The Loathing Chronicles: Chapter Two.

OPP

The summer has come and gone. Fall came and went. And now, that cold hard bitch winter is here and in full force. Bone chilling winds, coldness in general, and the occasional falling of precipitation.

So, with all of this horrible weather in triumph, why is there so much skin on the Las Vegas strip? No, these aren’t the people that need to show skin. No, in fact, some of these people shouldn’t show any skin—even in summer. Never-the-less, people fly in for the weekend the party their behinds off and all of a sudden they feel the need to show everybody geographic regions of their body that they would probably be shy to show their doctor.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all for getting away from home and cutting lose to release some stress and change the pace. However, in the act of doing something different, I’m not sure you need to do things you wouldn’t do in your home town. PAUSE: don’t thing I’m getting all right-wing here, I’m just saying… And when you find some embarrassing video of yourself on YouTube that you “don’t remember,” don’t say I didn’t warn you.

On a side note, let’s talk about movie theaters. I’ve never really felt in danger on the Strip, but upon visiting the average Regal movie theater, for a respectable movie (I am legend), I was introduced to the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever experienced in Sin City.

Let’s explore: Of the 20 people in the theater, we made it through The 20. We even made it through the previews (which weren’t that great). But then the movie started. What ever I heard for the first 30 minutes of the film can only be described as one of the following: 1) Some poor gentleman sitting a few rows back has a severe case Tourette’s; 2) Some A-hole was extremely angry with the person he was sitting with (who I believe was female); or 3) Well, I don’t really want to paint that picture, this is more of a PG-13/R rated blog. Honestly, I don’t know which one of these options was really going on. When you really aren’t sure what you’re listening to, that’s when things really get scary. Trust me. It probably didn’t help watching Will Smith get chased around on screen by virally infected, vampire-like mutants—but I don’t want to ruin the movie for you.

In lighter new, I worked with the Teamsters over the last two days. They’re good guys. I’m not a big fan of unions, but the Teamsters have a few good men. No kidding, I was complemented by a teamster with no less than 7 consecutive swear words today. And yes, he was honestly giving me a complement. AWESOME. That’s all I could think.

So what’s the moral of the story? I’m not sure. Just stay away from OPP, especially if you’re alone, scared, and watching the latest blockbusting action flick.