Shoulda Left Las Vegas

Las Vegas
And pondering why I love the TV show, ‘Nashville’ so much.

Here goes:

Many a time while stationed in San Diego, I would make a spur of the moment decision to drive the five hours to Vegas.

Occasionally with a buddy or two after closing down a bar somewhere downtown San Dog. Once or twice with a female accomplice,  but usually alone.

“It’s OK. We (I) can sober up on the road. We’ll get to Vegas about sunrise.”

Would just show up, never having the wherewithal or forethought to reserve a room so I’d just nap in my Tornado if necessary.

But then, I never really slept while in Vegas anyhow. Why would I need a room?

Too bad I was born too late to experience “The Rat Pack.” Maybe if I accumulate enough good Karma, I can come back as Sammy Davis Jr. Or Frank Sinatra.  Stranger things have happened, in the night, eh?

Dean Martin, caught in a Gravity Storm.

Priceless.

One Saturday night after a not-too-lucky session at the craps table, I fell asleep in my car, which was always parked in the Union Plaza Parking Lot & Cow Pasture.

plaza

Union Plaza
Live it Up!

Well I woke up Sunday morning, (with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt) knowing full-well that I was due back in San Diego and on my “boat” before nightfall.

While attempting to drive out of the parking lot, the young uniformed schmuck informed me that I owed two dollars for the parking.

“Listen Asshole, I just dropped two grand in your casino last night.”

“Sorry Sir, but the parking is two dollars.”

“Let me say this one more time: I just ‘invested’ two large in your fucking casino.”

“Sir, I am just doing my job.”

“And me mine, for fuck’s sake. I’m protecting your way of life and your right to be an idiot.”

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Speakin’ of Leavin’ & Grievin’ & Drinkin’ & Sneezin’ & Thinkin’…. Too Much…I Shoulda Left Las Vegas! AND Louisiana!

Emmylou Harris – Leaving Louisiana in the Broad Daylight

Naw! I Love Las Vegas/Or, As More Frequently Referred: “Lost Wages!!!” I Love Louisiana Too!!!–See Be-low! — Elisabeth Shue!!

“I May Drink Too Much!

Smoke too Much!

Stay Out Late Out Late At Night Yoo Much!

Elisabeth Shue!

Please Marry Me!

I Promise To Be True!

To You!

Life is Just a Tire Swing!

Hitch Yer Wagon to a Star!

Martha Tilton

Cred for vid: Croonr1

**********

Jimmy Buff–Aye!

OKAy!

Yay!

“I’m Just a Tired, Worn-Out, Broken Swing!”

C’est Moi!

Tired Swing!

Cred: OutdoorChautauqua

Thank You!

This is Such a Charming Video!

Huh???

Really??

Nother Fun Fack:

Lance is A Dumb-Ass With No Class!

Cred: Jimmy-Some-Guy

Gotta Make a Livin’

*****

I Love You Emmylou!

You Are So Beautiful!

Liz Shue

I Love You!

GODDoddm-nIt!

Gone-Damn It!

This HITS

Way Too Close to my-HOME!

(Fun, Pointless Fact: Those Are Baby Koi Carp in That Fish Tank)

I know My Fish! Trust Me On This!

****

Las Vegas
And pondering why I love the TV show, ‘Nashville’ so much.

Here goes:

Many a time while stationed in San Diego, I would make a spur of the moment decision to drive the five hours to Vegas.

Occasionally with a buddy or two after closing down a bar somewhere downtown San Dog. Once or twice with a female accomplice,  but usually alone.

(Not Many were brave enuff, or stupid enuff, to get into my car at two a.m.)

“It’s OK. We (I) can sober up on the road. We’ll get to Vegas about sunrise.”

Would just show up, never having the wherewithal or forethought to reserve a room so I’d just nap in my Tornado if necessary.

But then, I never really slept while in Vegas anyhow. Why would I need a room?

Too bad I was born too late to experience “The Rat Pack.” Maybe if I accumulate enough good Karma, I can come back as Sammy Davis Jr. Or Frank Sinatra.  Stranger things have happened, in the night, eh?

Dean Martin, caught in a Gravity Storm. 

Priceless.

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I’m Gonna Blow this Candle out–Don’t want— Nobody at My Table; Got Nothin’ To Talk to any-Body About

I am so sick of people.

(Present company excluded)

I got nothing left to say

Screw it!

Maybe tomorrow

Stand by

But don’t hold your bated breath

****

Beautiful Joni

The Last Time I Saw Richard

“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in 68
And he told me, “All romantics meet the same fate Some day, cynical and drunk and boring
Someone in some dark cafe”

******

My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink and I don’t Love Jesus – Jimmy Buffett

“If I don’t die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night”

Story of My Life

That Old Man and The Sea

He’s Me!

P.S. Richard Shot hiss-self in the Head After He Went to FLA!

Broke My Fucken Heart!

Walking Around Bare-Foot’d On A Broken Wine-Glass Is Not A Pleasant Experience to Experience–Trust Me On This One Folks. I Know–From ‘Experience’

I Adore You Annie!

Best Line:

“I’m Livin’ In An Empty Room”

I Hear Ya Girl!

Yeah! I Crashed my Booze Glass

Had to draft it to be my spittoon

Shit Like This Happens.

A-Lot.

In this Mouse-House O’ Mine

So What?

It’s Not Unusual:

Tom Jones “It’s Not Unusual” (April 21, 1968)

On The Ed Sullivan Show:

***

Wine Glass Broke All To Bits an’ Pieces.

Wine Shards All Over My Floor…

Shatter’d

All Over-The Floor

Now

I Must Drink

Directly Outta The Bottle

Even Mo’ Bettah!I

Actually Prefer This Way

(Cuts Our the Middle-Man)

****

Did This Prevent Me From Walkin’ All Over it?

Naw!

I Enjoy To Bleed

It’s Cathartic

Fly Me to the Moon. Sleepy after five minutes. Falling Asleep in my Chair. Stream of Un-Conscientiousness

Falling into that world that is, yet not is…

That Nether World,

Which Doesn’t Exist,

Save Only In-My-Dreams

And for Any of Y’all Who wish to ‘Edit’ Me:

To My Fallow Writer

In-Sane ‘O-Tics:

Just Don’t.

Do Not attempt to Edit the Insane.

That could only end Badly.

***

Fly Me

‘Ole Blue Eyes

Cred: Frankie… Duh

***

***

I am a moron.

Just how I roll.

Ninety-Nine Percent of my Best Prose Never sees the Light of My… My… My Computer.

It just floats about in my head.

Lost in That Somnambulistic State of Glorious Oblivious Glee…

Gee!

When I am lying to me in me bed, I ‘write’ some very, very, Very Great Shite.

Alas, It don’t make it to the transmission point.

Once awake, It is Gone.

Forever.

Note to self: Keep a pen an’ pad next to Your Bed.-Instead

***

Some of my Best Posts languish away in my nether sleep

Alas

***

Golden Slumbers

“You Never Give Me Your Money, Only Your Situation”

Cred for Vid: el perro beatle

***

Note to Land-Lady:

The Money is Coming

On Monday

Shoulda Left Las Vegas

Las Vegas
And pondering why I love the TV show, ‘Nashville’ so much.

Here goes:

Many a time while stationed in San Diego, I would make a spur of the moment decision to drive the five hours to Vegas.

Occasionally with a buddy or two after closing down a bar somewhere downtown San Dog. Once or twice with a female accomplice,  but usually alone.

“It’s OK. We (I) can sober up on the road. We’ll get to Vegas about sunrise.”

Would just show up, never having the wherewithal or forethought to reserve a room so I’d just nap in my Tornado if necessary.

But then, I never really slept while in Vegas anyhow. Why would I need a room?

Too bad I was born too late to experience “The Rat Pack.” Maybe if I accumulate enough good Karma, I can come back as Sammy Davis Jr. Or Frank Sinatra.  Stranger things have happened, in the night, eh?

Dean Martin, caught in a Gravity Storm.

Priceless.

One Saturday night after a not-too-lucky session at the craps table, I fell asleep in my car, which was always parked in the Union Plaza Parking Lot & Cow Pasture.

plaza

Union Plaza
Live it Up!

Well I woke up Sunday morning, (with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt) knowing full-well that I was due back in San Diego and on my “boat” before nightfall.

While attempting to drive out of the parking lot, the young uniformed schmuck informed me that I owed two dollars for the parking.

“Listen Asshole, I just dropped two grand in your casino last night.”

“Sorry Sir, but the parking is two dollars.”

“Let me say this one more time: I just ‘invested’ two large in your fucking casino.”

“Sir, I am just doing my job.”

“And me mine, for fuck’s sake. I’m protecting your way of life and your right to be an idiot.”

Continue reading