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Alright, I’m back on my home turf! I’ve officially left Las Vegas. To sum up what I’ve learned… the national sport in Mexico must be some kind of competitive card flicking; you really gotta visit Vegas to understand this free alcohol tastes better plane rides to Vegas attract people who shit their pants; plane rides to Buffalo attract people who’ve had their normal brand of deodorant substituted by some kind of spicy onion paste old people and dance clubs don’t mix and yes, I consider myself one of said old people despite what I was told at the time, Calgary cannot possibly be the nose picking capital of the world; the blood-laced crusty nuggets I spelunked from my nasal cavity these past four days are proof positive Vegas casinos have EXACTLY the same senior citizen to human ratio as Canadian casinos, but they have a far greater number of female prostitutes with testicles baths are just as gay as they ever were give a Barnhardt the chance to eat a lot and he will eat a lot; give him the chance to drink a lot and he will drink a lot; give him wild fig and ivy moisturizing cream and he will indeed use it, but only on his feet And that about sums it up! Back to reality!! ...

So I’m sitting at the Las Vegas airport waiting for my flight home… And no, that’s not me. It’s the fruit who WAS sitting next to me. He seemed to be having an argument on his cell phone with either his girlfriend or his life partner. Several times he threatened to “go back to California” if he/she continued to treat him the way he/she was. He then called a hotel somewhere and was unhappy with their room rates. He called the life partner back and told him/her off some more. Then he left. I’m probably moments away from seeing him tie his ankle to the landing gear of a plane. I wish him well. ...

So today was our second last day here in Las Vegas. How my feet haven’t fallen off completely, I’ll never know. It’s been exhausting and I’ve gained many pounds of disgusting bloat. For example, just tonight we were treated to an extensive dinner at this place. Afterwards we went to the Voodoo Lounge. I think this place would be cool if I wasn’t a fat mess, it wasn’t fantastically windy and I had 2 to 3 pounds of sweet cocaine. Nonetheless, it was an experience and I took this crappy pic on my cell phone: ...

Brief post ‘cuz I gotta get to sleep!! Here’s a picture of a girl’s ass: She had the body of a 13 year old and a face like a dead gorilla’s armpit. I can’t begin to describe how hot that was. Here’s Barnhardt eating (big f’n surprise!): I guess the revelation here is that I like cake. Wait a second. No. There is in fact nothing this picture will tell you that you didn’t already know about me. Different time zone. Different country. I’m still an eating machine. They had to take a shovel to my back to stop me from filling my face. Rock and roll!! ...

Before coming here, my only exposure to Vegas was an old episode of Roseanne and the ending of Con Air. To my surprise, it’s exactly like that. Here’s a view from my window. So I’ve begun quite the collection of, what I’m calling “whore trading cards.” You’ll see the fruits of my labour later this week. If I don’t have enough to wallpaper a small room, then I haven’t done my job and there’s gonna be a truckload of miserable Mexicans out here. ...

Be sure to check in all week for coverage of my trip to Vegas!

So we leave for Vegas in the morning, arriving there at about 1 pm Vegas time. Have tickets for a “cocktail party and buffet” at 7 pm. The real question is, “Will Barnhardt make it through the week without making an ass of himself?” Tough call. Let me think… have I ever done something inappropriate in a group setting…… There was the New Year’s Eve about 5 years ago where I thought I could go shot-for-shot with the eldest Carolan. Couldn’t, and felt a sudden need to nap, so did so in the crapper. Kind of a tiny bathroom at Spoar’s old apt. so I stretched out and punted his shower door off it’s track (yes Ryan, that was me). Others had to use the bathroom and couldn’t remove me… ah, I’ll let this video tell the tale. ...

So Jeff’s driving us to the airport on Sunday. This reminds me of the first time I ate ants. I was young and had a penchant for eating potato chips. I had a half-finished bag of the tastiest BBQ chips Fort Erie ever sold. I tucked them away beneath some sheets and pillows so no one would take them (it would only have been Andrew – I needn’t have taken such measures). ...

An 18% creamy tear came to my eye earlier today when the greasiest man in Canadian broadcasting arrived to work and presented me with a large double double. I offered him my undying gratitude and $2 to cover the beverage* – both were rudely refused. So I salute you, Chris Hickey. You have brought this young chap more joy than Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and that $200 lady of the night ever could. ...

Whoever you are, I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you. However, everyone other than you? Yeah, I hate them. Back in ‘94 I had a brief stint as a deconstruction worker (I wasn’t good enough to put anything together, only tear it apart). After about 5 hours of terribly boring grunt work I accidentally stepped on a 2x4 and had two rusty nails go into my foot. Boss had to drive me to the emergency room for a tetanus shot while I was still wearing some beat up and unfortunately flaming red skin-tight sweat pants. ...