Where in the world are Brad and Kirby? San Diego.

Our last night in Vegas was... memorable.  We became addicted to this Wheel of Fortune slot game, which from time to time afforded the player the opportunity to spin a big wheel and collect the corresponding prize.  I hit $1000.  Twice.  And $500 once.  And Dan and Kirby also both hit some nice winners.  So we were happy, to say the least.

The problem is that when you start to win in Vegas, you start spending recklessly, dropping $100 here or there like it's a single.  In fact, I think a couple $100 bills blew out of my wallet every time I farted.  I spent $63 on 3 cigars, and $87 to buy the crew one beer each.  That's right, $29 per beer.  They were 72 ounces each, and they came in enormous blue bottles.

They were delicious.  But the problem is that when you drink that large of a beer, you have to do this:

A lot.

This was a gift from the Paris Las Vegas Casino to the New York-New York Casino.  It's a good thing the statue is beautiful, because if the statue was ugly, that could have been awkward, especially if they regifted the statue.  Where's that great big statue?  Uhhh, Whiskey Pete's was having a birthday... and we didn't know what to get them.  We said it was from both of us.

When we finally made it back to our hotel, as we entered the elevator Kirby took is bottle and pretended like it was his penis, and attempted to... eh, never mind.

Another interesting thing that happened in Vegas was that, out of the blue, Kirby ate part of a pickle.  If you know him at all, you know that he HATES pickles, to the point that they sometimes make him cry.  Pickles, mayonnaise, sour cream, mustard - all of these things are to Kirby as horse manure may be to you and me.  But I think what probably went through Kirby's head was, "Horse manure's not that bad. I don't even mind the word “manure.” You know, it's 'nure,' which is good. and a 'ma' in front of it. MA-NURE. When you consider the other choices, “manure” is actually pretty refreshing.  I guess I'll try this pickle."

The next day we bid farewell to Mr. Whitmyer.  On the way out of town, we stopped by the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop, which some of you may recognize from the History Channel television show "Pawn Stars".  It was a madhouse in there.  I'm not sure I've ever seen a larger concentration of idiots in one place.  There were people trying to get pictures of Rick, and taking pictures of the store, even in areas they weren't supposed to, and buying stupid memorabilia.  Kirby bought a shirt.  Enough said.

Anyway, Kirby did have a legitimate reason for being there - he wanted to see if he could sell a ring.  He originally paid $1800 for it, but Rick reportedly only offered him "$250 if I gotta."  Kirby did not sell.  And we were off to San Diego, Mexico.  I mean California.  On I-15 on the way there, we passed what has to be the weirdest name for a road that I have ever seen:

Zzyzx Rd.  Well, it is sort of out in Area 51/alien territory, so I guess it kinda makes sense.

We then passed this rather bland mountain, which for some reason, Kirby could not stop photographing.  Perhaps it reminded him of his life back home in Zanzibar, where he was raised by the Forest People of Unguja island.

                           

As we checked into our hotel in downtown San Diego, we realized there was something that was just not quite right about it.  Then we reached our room: 

In order to get through the door, Kirby stood at the threshold, and I lauched myself at him off the opposite wall like a battering ram.  It worked, and now the doorway is plenty big enough to get through, although the door doesn't lock anymore.  So we have to carry all of our possessions with us wherever we go.  Apparently this hotel used to be a bank, which is why it is weird, and our room was the room where they used to store a lot of really tall, skinny things.

Later that night, we went out looking for something to do in the Gaslamp area of downtown SD.  Apparently it is a big thing down there to not put dollar signs in front of the prices on the menu, which is a big no-no for us.  So that kind of limited our options as far as testing the local fare.  So we wound up at T.G.I. Friday's, where I had the most expensive Tom Collins I've ever had.  Honey... why is there... a pine tree... in your Tom Collins?  I LIKE IT!  We're gonna... we're gonna... we're gonna decorate it... for Jesus.

After Friday's we headed to some bar called the Double Deuce.  We went there because the name reminded us of former Miami of Ohio basketball player Nate VanderSluis.  His nickname was the Double Deuce, but we, of course, called him the Double Douche.  It was like stepping through a time vortex to a week ago when we were in San Antonio.  It was a weird country karaoke bar with a mechanical bull and a mean guy in the dj booth who was getting mad when people didn't cheer for the people who were ABOUT to sing.  And the beers were expensive, so we did not stay long.  But this one guy was pretty good.  He sang "Redneck Woman".

This morning we went to the Coronado Beach.  At first we thought the beach was all rocks.

The water was kind of cold, so we spent most of our time playing in the sand.  I dug a hole with some small children, and I was about to throw one of them in when Kirby called me over. 

It seems he was having a problem:

Apparently he stepped into some kind of beach quicksand or something.  A lifeguard truck drove by and told us that there was some kind of stingray swarm going on or something, and that lots of people had been stung, and that in order to avoid being stung, we shouldn't pick our feet up when we walk in the water, but just shuffle around.  So, for fear of being Steve Irwined, we shuffled right back to the hotel, which is where I now sit.  Kirby went out to get a haircut.  I told him I'd do it for him for free.  He said no.  I don't blame him.

One last thing.  BRAD'S HOOK-UP OF THE NIGHT:

His name is El Blando.  He doesn't like condiments on his food.  And he doesn't like cond... eh, never mind.