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Friday, February 7, 2020

The Senior Strip Club

There are all kinds of wonderful dining choices downtown, but you know what I wanted? Junk Chinese food from Lanai Express. The stomach wants what it wants, and the heart can shove it.

Day 11 part 3

From the Cosmopolitan, we took a Lyft to the Four Queens. We weren't actually going there, but you can kind of get dropped off at the street and then cross over to Fremont, where we were really headed.

The guy took Charleston off of the interstate so it was easier to get at the Four Queens than Fremont would have been.

I hate to tell you this, but it was uneventful, the ride. And that's good.

Cosmo has the coolest rideshare pickup place ever.

The Quad Queen plunked herself down at those good ole Super Slippery Sloppy Slurpy Slutty Times Pay machines and I plunked myself down in the line at Lanai Express, which is within burping distance of those favored machines.

I used points to pay for the Chinese, so that was good. I went for fried rice, Orange Chicken, and Beef 'n Broccoli. The Broccoli made this meal healthy, with tons of cruciferousness to it.

Caption on styrofoam plate: "Do Not Eat".


OK, not really. :(
A healthy Srirachi-load blown on top made everything so fucking onolicious! Everything was so perfect!

I was in the Fremont. With the meal that my stomach-heart wanted. I had a guy with a Chihuahua next to me, and he lifted the Chihuahua dog right up on the table, which everyone around chuckled at with 'isn't that cute' chuckles, its little dog nails clattering around on the table top like a tap dancer dog. Look Jolene, a Dawg. Onna TABLE. BWAAAAHAHAHA.

It couldn't have been better than if the dog had had a little vest on and a little sombrero on it's puny eye-bulging head and a rattly tambourine fastened to its collar, to take advantage of its interminable shaking.

Actually, that would have made it so fucking much better.

I messaged BomberGal: "We're downtown. Where are ya?"

I didn't get a response.

By the way, you can probably tell I was a little melancholy at having what would probably be the final srirachi-load of hot sauce blown on my dinner for this trip - because it would soon come to a close.

I have to roll it back a bit, and unpack a situation that happened at Main Street Station that I haven't covered in excruciating detail yet.

Here's how it went.


I approached the Main Street Station casino cage with a couple of cashout tickets. Nobody else was there at all, so I stood at the little sign that says 'wait here, you over-eager son of a bitch' and I caught the eye of not one but two cashiers, one slightly to my left, and one slightly to my right.

"Which one of you wants to be my favorite?"

They kind of laughed, and I walked up and held out one ticket in each hand and gave one to each of them.

"I can't choose, you are both too special!" I said.

Well, apparently, you can't really use two wickets at once, and they laughed and said no, you can't do that.

So I stopped doing that and presented both tickets to one cashier. Fair enough.

She scanned them and I said, "Can I have all singles please?"

Because we needed tipping dollars.

As she was counting out $22 in singles, I continued, "You know what I'm going to do with those?"

She shook her head no, and kept counting.

"I'm taking them to the Senior Strip Club. No really, there's a senior strip club in back. Didn't you know? And... let me tell you... a few crisp dollar bills go a long, long way there."

She was laughing by this point, and had to start counting again.

"Have you ever seen the Senior Strip Club here at Main Street?"

"No!"

"It's really something," I said. "Yeah... the stipper pole has handrails."

After dinner, I rejoined the Quad Queen and played some dime triple play of my own.

And what do you know, I finally got a kicker.



Except it was on dimes. And no multiplier. Maybe I am destined to be a nickel and dime player.

Because (with apologies to Ringo) they don't come easy - the kickers don't come easy.

"Can you tell me where the bar is?

The Quad Queen was having no luck and starting to get snippy, and I didn't want her to harsh my Chihuahua mellow, so I opted to go and play Boner Deluxe somewhere. To give her a bit of breathing space. And to keep from getting targeted for random frustration violence.

Well, Boner-boi came through for me.



Back at the Quad Queen's machine things weren't much better. There was only one thing left to do - convert our points to freeplay. Use 'em or lose 'em, baby. And there wouldn't be any more meals to buy on points this trip.



I had $28 worth and squandered it on some stupid glowing sputtering flashing colorful machine or other. The Quad Queen's also went for naught.

Next up was to continue (hopefully) our amazing coupon run with some fairly heavy $25 a hand action across the street.

To the D!





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