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Never Bring Your Kids To Las Vegas

It is almost virtually impossible to have a horrible time in paradise. I can literally lose all my money and still not be bothered by it because a) I intended on losing it regardless; as I am aware of odds, statistics, etc. B) winning in Vegas is a bonus and you shouldn't bank on winning anything. You are there to blow money like your wad and have a good fucking time while all the normies suffer back home.

With that said, the one thing that WILL piss me off, and almost ruin my fun, is when the Vegas strip and hotels are packed full of crumb-crunchers: strollers and large gaggles of kid's like mallard ducks with their parents on the sidewalk; taking up valuable real-estate from me to stagger down in a drunken fashion.

The side walks on the strip are for college dude-bro's, party-gurls, guys in suits who ask, "Strip clubs, gentlemen? Titties in yo' face?", nig-nogs who try to hawk their shitty rap music on lame CD's, and Mexican/Filipino midgets who hand out those snapper cards with the nudies on them. That is the ecosystem to which is acceptable. Oh! I forgot the prostitutes. Fuck, sorry. Can't forget whores!

On the last two nights we were in Las Vegas, on trip six, we stayed at the very luxurious and infamous, Mandalay Bay (also known as Paddocks Palace/The 'Eagles Nest'). Too soon? Fuck you. Upon arrival, all was well; the room was fit for two kings. The view? To die for.

Give That Baby A $20 Dollar Mini-Bottle From The Bar!

As per usual, we set out for the entire day and night; gambling, drinking and just being free mother-fuckers. After a great day, instead of coming back to HQ, ready to hit the sack and do it all again, we are greeted with the high pitched, face-punching sound of a baby next door to our hotel room, screaming it's fucking head off.

It was almost midnight.

It was possible that this family (because we could hear multiple kids aside from the Arabic jawing of the parents) got into Vegas on Aubu Dabi time and weren't ready for bed yet. So, you think, "Ok....its late...the kid has to shut-up soon and go to bed".

An hour rolls by. Nope!

So, you then think, "Ok, the kid has been crying and screaming for more than an's gotta tire itself out sooner or later."

Babies have their own agenda.

Like, I could see if, oh i dunno, some middle-aged dude from Mesquite was firing a fully automatic rifle a few floors above you, out his window, at a crowd of people; the room vibrating from the rapid thunder of the barrel. Then, and only then, could I understand why a baby would scream and cry it's head off because that shit is terrifying. But, none of that was happening. Actually, our floor was incredibly quiet as far as partying goes.

Now, Mandalay Bay is very generous when it comes to your bed and how many goddamn pillows they give you. I only used 1 out of like, fucking 10. I wanted to use one of those and go over next door and "make the crying stop", if you know what I mean. It was that fucking annoying and uncalled for.

This would then happen again on our last night when we only had 5 hours of sleep until our flight.

It's Called Disney World And It's In the Other Direction

So, yeah, do EVERYONE a favor and leave your goddamn, fucking window-lickers at home where they belong; or shove them back up your twat. Some of us want to live life and peace as we've paid top dollar for it.

What kind of parent brings a baby and their kids to Vegas anyway? Ever heard of Disney World? Where there won't be titties in your 4 year-old's face and you won't have to explain to them why daddy has a huge boner for the cocktail waitress or why mommy isn't back yet to the room because she has a gambling problem, suddenly.

You must be some kind of model parent to pull off such a stunt, or just selfish. You and your partner want to go and party, but you fucked up and spat out some kids. But you are still in your twenties (you see these kinds of parents there all the time). So you people think, " biggie, we can drink and gamble while we push the stroller around town in 100 degree F." Leave the kids under the blackjack table and the dealer can watch em' and make sure one doesn't swallow a $100 chip?

You lost, you rolled the dice; had kids, got married. Which means you don't get to do the same things you use to. I get to party all night; drink all day, gamble. You can't afford to do that, literally!

Baby Not On-Board

The other incident, was of course, right after the hotel. When we got to the airport to leave there was this family who had two kids. They were fine for about 10 min. Then the crying starts, the screaming, the kids running into my bags and knocking themselves over like little drunken bowling pins.

It is bad enough that everyone in the terminal leaving Vegas is hung-over and in a shitty mood and then you have this shit going on. It is always hard to tell sometimes who is going to be on your flight because the gate seating is connected with the seating from another gate. So, I prayed to the Vegas gods that these little shit-heads and their irresponsible parents weren't on my flight back to DTW and were in fact going to Atlanta.

Prayers work, because they and their crying kids, went on to make the Atlanta flight a miserable experience, most likely.

It's really simple, parents. If you have kids, you have to do stupid kid things with them. No wonder why they are crying in Vegas...all they see are tits and they don't get to suck on them!

Goo-goo, GAGA.

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