Blogger Convention Part 1: Viva Las Vegas

by singerz

For those big blog fans out there (both of you), you know that we have had two previous blogger conventions. This year, as the Garbage Dump’s financial situation is simply FLYING, we decided to take our convention on the road. And where better to do a convention than…wait for it…wait…a little longer…almost there now…this is getting annoying Zev…New Jersey. No no, VEGAS my friends. That’s right, Mink and I packed our sunscreen and mouthwash, had them confiscated at the airport by the dicks who think terrorists use sunscreen and mouthwash, bought more sunscreen and mouthwash at CVS, and went to VEGAS!

So where to begin? People seem to think that we spent 4 days straight completely drunk. That allegation is out and out…kind of true. But let me clarify, we were not drunk for 4 days, we were in a perpetual haze of tipsy grogginess and delight for 4 days. I’d be surprised if most normal human creatures could sustain the alcohol consumption that Mink and I experienced, but, alas, we live on. Wavering on that thin line between the normal sobriety of human society and the idiocy of drunken lunancy is not easy to do. We did it for over 80 hours. Impressed?

Here is an extremely awkward pose of Mink and I holding our “mai tai’, a drink consisting of vodka, rum, schnapps, tequila, scotch, bourboun, beer, liquor, mikes hard lemonade, and Zima. That’s what the strange old man at the pool told us. Then he asked Mink if he could put lotion on Mink’s back. Long story. I too winced when I saw this awkward picture, but a true blogger holds nothing back:

Now, many people have asked me if I gambled on this trip. Forreal? Sharing a room with Mink for four whole days? Biggest gamble of my life. Did it pay off? Depends on what you mean pay off, suckah. Actually, no, it doesn’t depend what you mean. It didn’t pay off.

One of the highlights of the trip for me was Mink’s insistence on approaching complete strangers, claiming that we were journalists filming a documentary, and asking to take a picture with them, Here are some examples:

Mink told this couple that we were making a documentary. Two major problems: 1) Why would a documentary-making-journalist take a random picture with an Indian couple walking around a casino? 2) Why would his photographer, yours truly, be giggling like a schoolgirl with a rasperry lollipop as he snapped the photos?

And heres another one:

It seemed like this guy thought he was going to be famous from being in our “documentary”. And in case you are wondering why Mink is grabbing onto the phallic looking object that the man is holding, so am I folks, so am I.

So far sounds like a CRAAAZY trip, right? Like INSANELY WILD. Well just wait. Below is a picture of the night Mink and I went “clubbing.”


That’s what I’M talking about, Mink. WORK IT at the Tangerine Nightclub.

Stay tuned in the next week for part 2, where Mink gives his perspective on the convention, denies my allegation that he thought a hooker was actually hitting on him (true story, just ask Candy Cane-Ass, she'll tell you) and obviously some more absurd pictures. Peace.