I am Vegas bound tomorrow afternoon and quite excited to be getting out of town for a while. Between my retarded text message fighting with Paige, the Tony/Katie saga, and Grant getting popped in the mouth at the Izar Bizar…I think I am ready to blow off some steam at the roulette table. Dave and I are probably going to be the two coolest dudes in Nevada. I expect to be kicking it with b-list celebs, Martin Mull and Frankie Munez and so forth. Maybe Johnny Fairplay will be hanging out. Anyhow Hot or Not is new. Check it out.
This weekend was not all bad. We did manage to add to our ladies room photo collection. It turns out that Bouncer Bob aka the Notorious B.O.B is actually a fairly photogenic guy. Who would have thought?



I know this shit is stupid, but we honestly get a kick out of doing it. And Bob looks nearly as gigantic as the chick in our photo gallery.
Also of note, I also think that giving grown men wine coolers is about the side-splittenest thing a person can do. This is Mark chugging a Bahama Mama, in doubt so pinky out. As fate would have it, the snow on Mark’s back porch had a pink hue to it on the morning following this episode. Maybe the only thing funnier than a guy chugging Bahama Mama’s is a guy vomiting Bahama Mama’s.

Big shout out to Griff and his board game double date last night. Thumbs up.

The last order of business involves our second confirmed “hater” of bouncerblog.com. I know we have disappointed a few people, and apparently brought one to tears by letting Shama do his thing in the gallery. I think Grant is honestly offended by his lack of recognition on the site, so here you go. Nerd.

I am toying with the idea of taking my laptop on the trip to keep folks posted as to what sort of trouble Dave and I cause. Perhaps I could create a chart to log my Wells Fargo balance…who knows. Frankie Munez and I watching the pirate show at Treasure Island?
















Here are D, Griff, and I stocking the cooler after close. Two of the three recall this picture being taken. Good work Gackle.
On to some actual Cat/Griz photos. Dave gets the party started with some Champagne far too early, and things just sort of play out from there. Auto-pilot as my homey Eve would say.
Lets follow it up with a series of weird beard photos…
…and then with Waldo’s drunk ass grabbing some zzz’s
All right. Nobody really knows how exactly Dave ended up with the stamp pad from the doormen at the ticket entrance. It happened, however, resulting in a few dozen of our buddies and their buddies buddies cousins getting free passes into the Brawl of the Wild. Can you imagine the look on those guy’s faces when they realized that they botched the one simple task that was their charge?
And then Voy invented a restroom.
My photo journalism was lacking from this point on. I ended up on the field with a goal post, but for some reason the post is quite elusive in photography. I have some pics from Specs and from the field that I will toss in the gallery. The weekend in a photo? Right here. A big pork rind & beer thumbs up. 
Fifty eight bucks. Another sure shot way to indicate your udder classlessness would be to take the rug rats out to the old shopping center dressed like this…in mid-November.
Yuck. So my story is really not that interesting. I did however play a few demo games on the Xbox 360, which was pleasant. Upon my return to the auto center check out area, the fella working the counter told me that he thinks I may have a slight fluid leak somewhere. Excellent sleuthing. Whoever made the decision to swap this guy out of housewares and into automotive deserves a promotion.
I worked for a handful of hours on Friday before going it to tend bar. My big plan was to keep the big day under the radar for alcohol purposes, which worked quite well for a time. The last hour or so consisted of much too much Jim Beam, resulting in another of those aforementioned headaches on Saturday. The shift at the bar was going well, until a methed-up John Travolta fella showed up and started pitching about the dance floor. Upon my asking the patron to knock his intensity level down a few notches, he became less like John Travolta, and somewhat more like a more backwoods Chuck Norris. (Note: trying to drop some names for search engine reasons. Bubba Keg Bubba Keg) Well, Daryl and I get him drug out back, he attacks Daryl, we drop him, we let him go, he again attacks Daryl, we again drop him. We had to restrain him until the policia showed up, due to the cut on his forehead. Last night was the first time in 364 days that I had thrown a fist, and likely the first time in as long as Daryl had pinged a fella’s head off of a wall.
Oh yeah, as this clown was carrying on in the back seat of the cruiser regarding getting jumped by Daryl’s friends (all 160 pounds of them) he told the police that the altercation was the result of him being a better dancer than the two of us. I doubt that, sir. I have polished some serious floor in my day.
Daryl was having more fun than most on Friday. He rolls into the bar with a head of steam after closing time and starts throwing out the MadTV Stewart poses. You had better start growing your goatee brother. Saturday finds me in charge of the food/drink portion of the Morrison Design and Landscaping/bouncerblog.com tailgate. Dave found himself in Helena at the Seinfeld stand-up show. Dave’s stomach found itself brimming with wine…a reported three bottles. By the time he rolls up, this is his condition.
Note: this photo must have been taken during the forty five minute span of Kyle and Steph’s tailgate tenure. Also, that hot rod in the backdrop was running the entire time. Good work. Pre-nap time at Spectators is always a shit show. Some drink conservatively, some drink like Shuga Shane.
Better work. Shane wasted no time in hitting the dance floor at the Sleeg upon his arrival. Now that’s what I’m talking about.