Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.
-Hunter S. Thompson
Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination. That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular. Follow @lavi_d_avegas
3 comments:
Why does Tom deface his otherwise glorious steed with the wuss wheel reflectors? Blasphemy!
Herewith the obligatory phurst...
-D
Perhaps Tom doesn't want to end up like the Al Queda parking lot post?
Nice touch equipping it to carry bimbos.
However, I can't even get the bimbos I hang with to ride the front of a shopping cart. They're afraid. I think it has to do with older bodies healing slower.
...older bodies healing slower.
There is some wisdom to that. I offered to help Tom test the rear pegs, as he rode around in circles in front of the Tropicana, but I refused to get on the front ones.
That and the fact that it would have just been too gay for a couple of fifty-year-olds.
I'll relay the reflector comments - I'd thought much the same myself.
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