Our Last Gig: Las Vegas

No, we didn't make it on the marquee. We did, however, urinate beneath it's sublime neon glow---so we got that goin for us!

Rolled into Vegas around sundown, or I should say rolled past Vegas! Texas Station is located way North of town, right between the What the Hell? and Where the Fuck Are We? highways….

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Kimm checks in. What a world, when yer 3rd billed under Bingo!

Loaded into the South Padre lounge and then immediately headed to the all you can eat buffet:

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The Feast Around the World. Tomorrow: the Loose Bowel Movements Around Interstate 15

Tell me: What makes us eat like ravenous kennel dogs when we are unleashed upon an open buffet?
I mean, at home you probably wouldn’t consider a weekday dinner consisiting of menudo, baklava, pasta puttanesca, sushi and crawfish etoufee—would you?

Oh sure, you try to start off sensibly. You have a simple entree, maybe a few crunchy appetizers…

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Spaghetti. Meatballs. Fried Shrimp. Crab Cake.

…but, what’s that? TBone found some Cajun food over in the corner next to the frosty machines!

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Gumbo. Jambalaya. Dirty Rice.

And, huh? Seafood?!–oh, right, it’s Friday! The chilled seafood bar is in full swing, and though I would usually question the wisdom of eating raw oysters that have been sitting in the bacteria biodome that is a las vegas casino, it seems naturally fine tonight! Did I mention we’ve been drinking?

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Crab Legs, Oysters, Shrimp.

Things begin to blur at this point. Not even hungry, we eye the plates of the people who have just returned from the buffet, only to bolt out of our chairs and head back to the food! Wait’ll the fellas get a load of this plate!!

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Pizza. BBQ Ribs. Chicken.

Things have gotten silly now. Nationalities and flavors, entrees and desserts—they have all begun to melt together in our contest of culinary one-upmanship!….

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Collard Greens, Chow Mein. Bean Salad.

Thankfully, we slow down, and eventually stop eating altogether. We come together in silence as we behold the mesmerizing sight of Tbone tackling an endless supply of crab legs!

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TBone tries the utensils provided to extract the crabby goodness.....
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...only to abandon the tools and use the mouthful of weapons the good Lord blessed him with....
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...urp? Bird gets a little ahead of himself and swallows a oyster shell sideways.

Then we played the show.
Saturday: Up and at em, down to the casino floor for load out and a lil video poker!

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10am, back at the bar, and the fellas are hungry for breakfast!
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Bloody Mary? check. Coors Light? check. Fatburger with fried egg? Oh hell yes!
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Tomorrow we start the diet my little monkeys--but for now, mangia, mangia!!

Alright then, great roadtrip, guys!

Again: Our Last Gig: Las Vegas

Wha? Christ Almighty, what’s with all the complaints about our recent gig coverage? Apparently, some of you people don;t care about our culinary exploits and want to hear about, what? Actual gig news??
We go out of our way to spread the mighty CH3 seed throughout this great Nation, and then we come home and bring you all the details of our travels–and it’s still not enough?!

We’ve received hundreds of emails demanding actual proof that we really played in Las Vegas, as well as a dozen marriage proposals for Tbone.

oooh--his eyes are so dreamy!

What? You can’t trust us? It should be enough for your old buddies here at the CH3 information desk to tell you we went out and played a show.
Frankly, I find it a little insulting that you would demand photographic proof that we actually made it to the stage and played a gig.

Besides, we lost the camera.
And by lost the camera, I don’t mean misplaced it in the casino. No, we ran out of chips to split the Aces with fifty in the hole, so we put the digital down as a marker.

I really hope a one Miss Candace Petersson, StationCasino employee#4516b, hometown Akron Ohio, enjoys the Cannon D1400 Sure Shot. Bitch.

Knock yourself out, Sister--I hope you enjoy all the GG Elvis pix that are still on the memory chip!

Thank God our old pals at Big Wheel Mag were on hand to record the festivities!

A combined age of 97 years on this Earth....!!
Birthday Boy Kimm tries to stand upright and play a guitar at the same time: But it's so Goddamn easy when yer sober!!

Let's see: All you can eat crablegs+nine beers+a warm shot of Patron. Oh yeah, I gotta remember this combination!

Let's speed things up, bitches! The blackjack tables are callin to me!

In my sleep, I tells ya! That's how long I've been playing these same fuckin songs!

(Happy? Check out Big Wheel Magazine for all your news and gig updates, and leave us alone, Goddamnit!)

Gamblin’ Time!

CH3 in a casino lounge...I bet ya never saw this coming!
Kimm's birthday, a CH3 gig, and Las Vegas...sounds like a peaceful weekend to me!

So the road show rolls into a nutty little town we like to call Las Vegas this weekend, eh?

When you’ve been around as long as yer ol pals in CH3, you develop a certain history with the cities you visit on a periodic basis.
Yeh, we’ve seen this burg grow from a classless little hick hole to the classless monument to excess that it is today!

This is how we like to remember the joint....

And don’t give me that crap about the Wynn art collection or Tommy Keller’s slop houses raising the cultural bar!
Listen, if I’m gonna drop three hundred goddamn dollars at Bouchon or Nobu, it’s not gonna be in a place where I have to look at a faded cougar on an oxygen tank play penny slots, Brother!

Sure, keep goin' Ma! The kids back home in the holler don't need no shoes this winter!

Besides, you wanna talk about fine dining when any sane man is gonna stroll down the strip for a 99 cent half pound dog at Slots of Fun??!

Ya know what would hit the spot after this? I'm thinkin 25 cent shrimp cocktail and a Heimlich maneuver!

Over the years, we’ve done Vegas a hundred different times and a hundred different ways. From the Bellagio waterfront suites to sleeping it off in the downtown parking garage, this town has always welcomed us with open arms and then kicked our asses back down Interstate 15.

But there’s always been one constant: Yeah, you got it–Gambling!

Ah, hell yeah! Tell Alf he doesn't have to pass out the whore flyers on the Strip any more!

What is it about gambling that sets the blood to boil, hmm?

Is it the thrill of risking what you really can’t afford to lose?
The chance—ever so slight!–of winning?

Actually winning— now there’s a concept!

To receive unearned monies, dropped down upon your grateful open palm like a feather. A reluctant gift from the last sad bird of an exotic and now extinct species?

Your reward in chips: the reduction of familiar monetary values to meaningless tokens. Kinda like buying a Youth Brigade T shirt!

Nah. We simply gamble for the free booze and this simple fact: They let ya get away with murder if yer gambling!!

I mean really, where else can you stumble through a ritzy lobby (or ride a wheelchair *ahem*), a smelly cigar on your lip and all your junk hanging out of your vomit-crusted trousers without getting kicked out on your ass? Just drop a coin in the video poker and they’ll bring you a bloody mary and a Keno card!!!

Keep yer eye on the tall Jap with the two wetbacks....
either they're counting cards or they're too drunk to count to 21!

It’s the spirit of Las Vegas that we love, that sleazy independence that has survived through shitty lounge acts and white tigers!
Come join your buddies out in the desert, won’t ya?-and give Kimm a kiss for luck.

(Need more push? Click the goddamn arrow below and listen to the coins clatter into the tray—it’s the sound of a million lucky angels with prosthetic wings, baby!!!)

Gamblin’ Time

Didn’t I learn a goddamn thing
Is it only half way through Lent?
This hundred bucks is getting awfully warm
And it ain’t going to the rent

I want a chance at something more
Or something different at least
Gimme a shot, a shot at hope
To get me through one more week

Is it wrong to use that cash
Well, her teeth are really pretty straight
Over under’s at fifty four
That one dude’s groin is strained

All I know about myself is nothing’s never enough
Screw the payment on the truck and the rest of that boring stuff
It’s gamblin’ time

In Sam’s Town I double down
The bitch held back my King

The frickin’ horse dropped down in class
She didn’t learn a goddamn thing

I dream of jet black roulette wheels on a velvet ocean of green
I hold the dice like wounded birds and then I set them free