Ohio State is Offically The Dumbest University Next To BYU In The Country

Jim Tressel, the head football coach at, "THE Ohio State University" made all the kids suspended for violating NCAA rules about selling rings and jersey's and shit, PROMISE to come back next year so they could serve their 5 game suspension, or he wouldn't let them play in the Sugar Bowl.

Wow! That's tough, Coach. Totally punishing them. Any one want to bet how many don't bother to return next year. I'm picking ALL of them!

They get the Bowl Game, you get the national spotlight, and some time between the Sugar Bowl and the time to declare for the NFL draft, there is going to be a family emergency, or, "situation" that makes them have to declare for the NFL draft, because, "My Momma needs a house" or some other shit like that happens.

If Jim Tressel is really this stupid, then so is THE Ohio State University for keeping him on as their head football coach!

The whole bunch of them should be suspended for the Bowl Game, and the coach should be fired if this happened on HIS watch! But it won't.

Because, like at USC, nothing happens while you are winning, it happens several years after the violations occurred, so you can not have to accept the kind of punishment, SMU got years ago. They got caught, punished and it killed their football program for years.

You can't have THAT happen to USC, or Ohio State for crying out loud! That would be awful! And SO deserved! They cheat, they lie, and they win. And only years after do they get caught.

Try to pull that shit off at Central Michigan, or Troy State, or Middle Tennessee and see if you can. Bullshit. Since there is no TV audience to lose there, they will come down HARD on you.

So, THE Ohio State University, you have just given a black eye to the entire state of Ohio, and all the other universities in Ohio by being such a dumb ass institution that you let liar's, cheats, dirt bags represent you in a Bowl Game after you got caught by letting them off on the PROMISE of returning next year to take their punishment. Like that's going to happen.

You are now officially the dumbest "University" next to, BYU, who thinks they are, Notre Dame and can make it in football as an independent. Because like them, you think you are above the rules, and no matter what you do, you will be OK. You might pull it off. But the rest of college football is watching. And Jim's going to take the fall for it. Because your athletic director won't.

I hope Mr. Tressel likes his sweater vest with a Youngstown State logo on it.

You cheating bastard know what you did, and you don't care. But you will pay the price at some point. And I can't wait to see it.

ESPN Is Killing College Football

I had to take my son and his friends to the ski bus in four wheel drive early this morning because of the ten inches of snow we got over night. Cleared my driveway and my neighbors walks with my snow blower, then ran a snow shovel out to a friends house who lives sixty blocks west of me (long story) and then go to a doctors appointment. So I didn't get to watch college football Bowl Games today until later in the afternoon.

But it didn't take long to realize that ESPN is killing the game, and the NCAA needs to take it away from them.

I admit, I'm addicted to the Bowl Games, even when I don't have a horse in the race, I can't stop watching. So I've been glued to the TV for the last several days. And I've seen the bottom of the screen, "ticker" tell me all about Brett Favre ten times an hour for the last 48. We get it. Now shut up. As a matter of fact, why can't they go back to the way used to do that? Running a line of important SCORES and headlines on, "The 8's" for a minute or so. I'm watching college football, if I was interested in all that other shit, I could go to ESPN News, or better yet, the Internet and get it without all the other bullshit.

Tonight, during the first half of the Holiday Bowl, ESPN's relentless promotion of all things, ESPN, screw actually COVERING sports, or giving the viewer's what they want, reached it's peak.

You can call my a misogynist if you like but it's not true. You can tell me I'm a, "hater" which is not true either, but I have to tell you something. No one in this country cares about women's basketball. If they did, the women's game would get as much coverage as the men's, the Women's professional league would play in the winter and we would still have a team in Salt Lake City.

I hate the NBA, can't stand it because the guy who owns the local franchise sold my favorite team of all time, The Salt Lake Golden Eagles Hockey Team down the road years ago and I have never forgiven him for it. And I'll never buy a car from any of his dealerships (any one remember the, "BOYCOTT MILLER, THE EAGLE KILLER" t-shirts?) But I can name you a hand full of NBA players.

Quick, anyone, name me10 women who play in the WNBA who aren't named, Lobo! Can't do it can you?

While Washington is beating Nebraska, which NO ONE thought would happen because Nebraska beat them by 35 points in September, ESPN kept cutting my screen in HALF to show the UCONN Women's basketball team about get beat for the first time in 90 games. I don't care! Give me back my football game!

Great for UConn, good on ya, great streak, sports history, no doubt. But, I don't care! I'm watching football!

And the worst part of this, the game is on live, in HD on ESPN2! I knew this. I'm pretty sure the 500 or so people who care about women's basketball nation wide knew this, so if we all wanted to see it, we could just click down from channel 206 on DirectTV to Chanel 209 and catch it in all it's, full screen, HD, glory! BUT NO! I have to watch football on HALF of my 42 inch plasma screen so they can promote what's on their other channels to a bunch of people who DON'T CARE!

I didn't look, but I bet the people watching the basketball game didn't have to share THEIR screen with the Holiday Bowl. I'm just sayin...

They do it with men's basketball too, and it drives me crazy. I already know you're covering the game on ESPN2, or ESPNU or ABC. If I gave a shit I'd already be watching it instead of FOOTBALL! Show me the game.

Note to ESPN, no one gives a shit about the men's game either until March, so lighten up.

My son is a great soccer player. Might have the potential to go on to play in college, or ever professionally. I know that even if that came true, his relatives back east would probably never see him play, and couldn't care less. I LOVE the NHL, but it doesn't get much love from American TV, so I watch what I can, when I can and realize I'm not in the majority on this.

By the way, the last time I looked up attendance, the NHL out draws the NBA in the actual amount of people who buy seats to see a game live. I guess because NHL fans can afford tickets? Just guessing.

So, ESPN, the next time the next great thing is happening in Women's' basketball, or curling, bowling, or even, for that matter, horse racing, which no one who doesn't own one cares about, just let it go to your other network and leave the football alone! You already own it all, now you have an obligation to let us watch it. All of it. Full screen.

Blond Jokes. I'm Doing This By Request.

My FB friend, Shannon Renner was throwing out some, "Blond Jokes" tonight. Shannon is awful pretty. And blond. So I told her I had the best, "Blond Joke" ever, but it wouldn't fit on a FB post, and it might offend people, so I sent it to her on email.

She thought it was so funny, that I should post it on my blog, in HER name, so it could go out on FB. OK, I'll do it, but I'm doing it for, Shannon.

This joke contains adult content, and adult language. Reader discretion is advised.

A guy walks into a Florida bar, and he has a four foot long alligator on a leash. This gets every one's attention. He picks up the alligator, puts it on the bar, orders a beer and says, "I'll bet anyone a drink, that I can put my dick in this alligators mouth for a full minute, and nothing will happen to me. Any takers?"

Well, it's Florida! Everyone knows alligators, and everyone takes the bet. No WAY this guy is gong to have a dick in a minute.

Guy whips out his dick, puts it in the alligators mouth, looks at his watch, times a minute and then hits the alligator on the back of it's head really hard with a beer bottle, the gator opens his mouth and the guy has not a mark on his dick, which is STILL all there. It's amazing.

As he's collecting his drinks, the guy says to the bar, "Anyone else want to try that?"

From the back of the bar, a BLOND chimes up and says, "OK, I'll do it. But when we're finished? Don't hit me with the bottle, OK?"

Now, is that the best, "Blond" joke ever or not? Tell Shannon, not me. I'm just the messenger.

Game Day. I Love The Smell of Optimisim In The Morning. It Smells Like Victory! Fat Chance.

At 0300 hours on Wednesday morning it's raining hard enough to wake me out of dead, and alcohol enabled, sleep. This is not a good sign. The night before, a few short hours ago, the weather guy on the local Fox channel said he thought the rain might let up by game time. How sad is it that you are hoping beyond hope that the guy on FOX is telling the truth? Just this once, maybe? I hope, I hope, I hope!

We got nothing to do today. We grab a breakfast sandwich at McDonald's, buy a newspaper and head back to the condo to read it. Our plan is to go to the Sam's Town Casino out by the football stadium early in the afternoon, grab a bite to eat for lunch, pick up the chocolate's that, "Amarillo" told me I could find there, and then meet our friends to tailgate for a while. Smoke a cigar, have a few drinks.

People think I'm crazy for bringing booze to Las Vegas from Utah, but I bought my friends a 12 pack of cans of Fat Tire Ale in an LV Albertson's store the night before, an it was $18! I don't drink a lot of beer anymore, but I think that's a lot for a 12 pack of anything that hasn't been distilled in another country. Or isn't being served in a bucket on a beach.

My wife and I discovered, Trader Joe's Store's years ago. And we love them. And the one in Henderson is the closest one to Salt Lake. If you are not familiar with this particular grocery store chain, think whole foods without the attitude, better service, and cheap alcohol of every variety. Oh, and everything is cheaper.

We will never have one in Utah because our liquor laws are as goofy as Gary Herbert is corrupt. Uneducated. Stupid. OK, I'll quit, but you KNOW I could go on.

So, I figure I'll go there and shop a little. I love their vanilla nut cluster cereal, but so do my kids and when we buy it, I never get any before it's gone. So this time I bought four boxes and hid 3 of them in the garage when I got home. I have plenty of wine at home, so I passed on the $36 case of, "Two Buck Chuck". But I did buy a bottle of Jack Daniels to bring home, since I haven't had that for a while. I'm a member of the, Tennessee Squires, but have found whiskey's that I like better as I've gotten older, so I don't drink, Jack much anymore.

Then we head for the stadium, and hope to find Sam's Town and get chocolate and maybe a sandwich in a coffee shop before we go tailgate.

Thank heaven's for the GPS in the Audi or we might have ended up in Arizona. But we do get to, Sam's Town. This is a locals casino. Movie theaters, .50 Cent roulette, the coffee shop's replaced by, TGI Friday's. And we find out, the Ethyl M's packed up and moved out of there four years ago. So much for, Amarillo's good advice.

I'd rather smoke a turd in hell than ever eat another meal at a, TGI Friday's. So Phil and I opt for the, "deli" in the casino to try and get a sandwich. It's not busy (I'll soon find out why), and the prices are reasonable.

I quickly drop $20 playing .50 Cent roulette, paying my Nevada property taxes and we go get lunch.

The menu is all over the place, and to my surprise, "Cuban Sandwich" is on there.

I first had a, Cuban Sandwich in Havana, Cuba in October of 2003. Went into a bar there with a bunch of other people on the KUER Cultural Exchange Tour and thought it was odd that a country would have, on it's menu, a sandwich, named after itself.

After all, there are plenty of sandwiches that are, without question, American. Cheeseburger, Patty Melt. Anything, "open face" from turkey to roast beef. But we don't have, even with the American Cheese, grilled cheese, an, "American Sandwich".

So, in Cuba it's pulled pork, sliced ham, casa nuevo, mustard and pickles on a baguette. In Miami, you might get provolone. In New York, it's Swiss cheese. In every case, the cheese is white, mustard and pickles are involved and it's served on the equivalent of, French Bread. It's not toasted, grilled, fried or otherwise exposed to heat, except from the meat that is in it, in any way.

Phil ordered a French Dip and fries, and he's eating WAY before I get my Cuban. I wait. And wait. And wait. I finally asked them why, and they tell me it's in the pannini press.

WTF? A CUBAN sandwich, in a pannini press? There is not a PANNINI press in ALL of CUBA! No one there can afford it! Who told these people to do THAT?

When I finally get it, it's burned to death on one side. Crispy, black and not edible. I make them give me back my money. I'll go to the game hungry. But I stood up for Cuban Sandwiches everywhere.

We park, for $10 in a lot that was so gooey I wouldn't have gotten out of it without the quattro. Meet our friends, and have a really nice few hours. Smoking cigars, having drinks. Catching up. At this point, we still have thoughts of actually winning the game.

It's raining like hell but we don't mind. We have a picnic table under a roof. And we just enjoy each other's company. And, by game time, the rain has all but stopped. I grab a beer, a burger and some garlic fries in the stadium and we watch the game. Shortly after it started, I'm on double Jack Daniel's, and can't believe I drove through all I went through to watch my team fall this far apart.

3 points? Really? That's all you could do? Everyone who was second guessing the quarterback situation all year? Really? You wanted THIS? Really? Oh, the horror.

I now know how all those Alabama fans felt two years ago in NOLA when we kicked them to the curb. I actually got to rub their noses in it the next morning in the lobby of the Intercontinental in NOLA, and it felt good.

My wife and I went out early to get a newspaper and a breakfast biscuit someplace on Bourbon Street. And coming back into the hotel lobby, in our, "UTAH' shirts there was a whole line of, "bama" fans waiting for buses/taxis, etc. to leave town. And after a whole week in town of listening to them yell, "ROLL TIDE" in our faces every time you got NEAR one of them, the silence was AWESOME! I walked in, looked at the line and said, as loud as I could, "Geez, Honey. Ain't no one, "ROLL TIDE'N" US THIS Morning, is there!" Stayed silent in that lobby. One guy took the bait and hollered, "Roll Tide!" To which I replied, as I took the escalator up to our room, "Around the bowl and down the hole! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I left town the next morning too early to see any Boise State fans, and that's probably a good thing. I had a handgun, and a lousy attitude.

Phil drove home. I didn't feel too good but I blame breakfast, not the previous nights alcohol. I was in bed by midnight. And he likes to drive the Audi.

PJ O'Rourke once called the chicken fried steak, "The Nevada State Bird" and he might be right. But the one I had at the, Orleans on the morning we left town was great, but an hour later, I was feeling awful and tossed the keys to Phil.

By about 5:30 on Thursday, our odyssey was over, and we were home. The Utes lost, we saw some shit we wish we hadn't. Lived through some shit we probably shouldn't have except for German engineering. And it was less of a, "Boy's Night Out" than I had hoped. But more of one than you could hope for. A good time was had by all.

Now, if I can just figure out where to get some, Ethyl M's chocolate's and lap dance by someone who I'd actually LIKE to have in my lap the next time I get to go there, I might go to Las Vegas again. But not for a while.

Part 3. Now That we've Seen The Pawn Shop, What Do We Do For Two Hours?

I'm going to admit right up front what a lot of men will not. Or are not permitted to admit in close proximity to friends and family. I still like to go to a stripper bar once in a great while, and if you don't do it in Las Vegas, you are missing a great opportunity.

Phil? Not so much. He's never been comfortable in these places, it's not where he likes to spend his money and if given the choice, he'd just avoid the place all together.

But he's a good friend, so he'll humor me. And I'll buy his beer.

The Olympic Garden used to be the premier, "shaker" bar in Las Vegas. You couldn't get into the place on Friday or Saturday night. Six stages, no waiting. Pretty girls as far as the eye could see. You actually had to have on a shirt with a collar to get into the place. It was a nice club.

One time years ago as a friend and I were walking toward the place from our hotel, a cab driver pulled up to us and asked if we were going to the OG. When we told him we were, but didn't need a ride as it was only a block, he offered to pay us $5 if we'd let him drive us up to the front door. I have to assume this means that for every cab full of, "big spenders" he brings in, the club was giving him a kick back in the $20 range. We took the ride, I didn't take his money. And this was a Sunday night! The place was packed.

Now, it's a dump. There must be 50 stripper bars in Las Vegas now, and the ones that seem to attract NFL players who end up suspended by league, must be nice. I don't know. I just got comfortable going in to the OG, lots of free parking I guess, and keep going. But I think I'm through.

We walk in, and there are hardly any people in the place, and no girls on the stage and this is lunch hour on a holiday week. Should have turned right around, but ah, what the heck, I'll buy a beer, and see what happens.

Before we can sit down, a stripper comes over, introduces herself and wants to know if we want a dance. Jesus, let me sit down so I at least HAVE a lap before deciding if I want it danced in, will ya?

This is not an attractive woman. And she's not young, either. She says her name is, well, I'll change her name to protect her reputation. It's a large, Texas city, so I'll just call her, "Amarillo". And despite telling her that we're just there to have a beer until check in time at the condo, she makes herself comfortable at our table and starts making small talk. Nothing unusual about that. But it doesn't take long for that to change.

As other, younger, more attractive (and even older, scarier women) come over, she cuts them off by telling them that we are just there for a beer until we can check into our condo. I'm being cock blocked by a stripper, and with my own story!

Then she starts telling us stories about the various sexual acts customers have asked her to perform in the club. Phil was uncomfortable when we walked in the place. Now I'M starting to get creeped out. And I spent 23 years as a Probation and Parole Agent, so I have a pretty high bar to jump over when it comes to creeping me out. I've had to discuss child abuse with child molesters and murder with murderers, and this woman is making my skin crawl! Time to bail out.

I look at Phil, finish my beer, and make an excuse about having to go find some Ethyl M's chocolate's for my wife and head for the door. Amarillo suggests that I can find an Ethyl M store at, Sam's Town Casino out by the football stadium. I thank her for the advice and head for the door faster than, Sara Pailin away from another interview with Katie Couric!

So, I have hundreds of dollars in cash in my pocket, all afternoon to kill, still can't watch an attractive young woman take off her clothes in a stripper bar. In Las, freakin' Vegas! This is a level of ineptitude I could not have previously imagined. This is what I believe, PJ O'Rourke once described as jumping into a pool of tits, and coming out sucking your thumb. Almost literally in this case.

One day, before my son's 21'st birthday, I'm going to have to have another, "talk" with him. We've had, "The Condom Talk". The, "Your father drops you off at school in an Audi or a brand new Camaro SS and has had no visible means of support for five years now, and some girls will notice this, Talk" It's kind of the same Talk as The Condom Talk, breaking down the reasons for it a little more. We will have to have, "The Tittie Bar Talk".

It will be short. No, they are not really that impressed with you, they do not love you, but they love your money. A stripper bar is a terrible place to look for a girlfriend. They all already have one. Or in some cases, a boyfriend or husband. If you fall in love, and tell them that you would like to have their children, they will tell you to pick them up at school later so they can keep working. And no, every Stripper in Las Vegas is NOT working her way through UNLV as a Political Science Major, and just needs the money for tuition, or she wouldn't be doing this. They spend more money on under ware than they would EVER spend on tuition.

Now it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon, check in time is at 4. Screw it, I'm going to take my chances since it's a new place in the, "World Mark" family and I haven't stayed in this one yet, and hope they will let me check in early. We drive to Tropicana, and then West, way past The Orlean's, and find it. It's nice, the staff is great, checks us right in, gives me the keys and we are moved in way before 4 o'clock.

By the way, this is just a side note, but now that we have, In N Out Burger here in Salt Lake? I just don't feel the need to eat one every time I'm in Las Vegas. I wish that feeling would go away re: the stripper bar. I'm just sayin...

Now we need to supply the condo for two days, and there is an Albertson's just down the street. Ice, a Diet Coke or two for me, snack's for, Phil and some beer for our friends who are flying in from Portland the next day who want to tailgate with us. We brought whiskey from Utah because you can't buy Ancient Age in Nevada.

While at the store, we notice this restaurant, funky old looking place. Capo's Fine Italian Food. They don't open until five, so we decide to come back.

We go to the condo, have a drink, watch, Sports Center. Oh, and while I'm on the subject? ESPN is as big a cheerleader for Boise State, as, "The Mountain" network is for, That Team Down South! Yeah, we knew deep down, in our heart of hearts, that we were going to lose to Boise State. But for crying out loud, when you're talking about the Las Vegas Bowl, and you don't even use the word, "Utah", just talk about Boise this, and Boise that, I can't believe how much they LOVE these guys. Oh, I forgot. The Mountain West Conference told them to take a hike when they wanted US to play on Tuesday and gave the Thursday nights to the ACC a few years ago.

ESPN sucks. They were much better before Disney bought them and they quit covering sports and just started covering ESPN.

We go back to the restaurant at five. There are cars there, but the door isn't open. Finally they do open it, and it's a pretty good copy of an old, speak easy. Lot's of Italian kitsch. This bodes ill, but I'm hungry and would even eat at the Olive Garden if that was my only choice. I order the salad and veal while Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin are singing. This is so, "Vegas" it's killing me. And I mean, "Vegas" in the same way I would mean, "Branson" if I was describing a shitty, catering to the lowest possible denominator, people who came here on a bus in polyester, type of, Roy Clark show, OK? NOT in a good way. I can't wait to see what the food is going to be like.

Phil suggested going into the restroom and if it had a tank toilet, taking the .38 out from behind it, and getting out of there before we got, "whacked".

Our waitress is a cute kid, but she looks more like the woman from the HBO series, "Cat House" who CALLED herself, Soprano, than, Meadow Soprano from THAT series.

All things considered, I'm not expecting much.

Well, call me, Ted Sheffler! I haven't had a meal this good in a while, and I don't eat at crummy places. The salad was to die for. Artichoke hearts, blue cheese. I spilled it all over the front of my crummy, Belize tshirt I was wearing and didn't care. I might suck on the shirt front later! This was a GOOD salad!

And when the veal got there? It was an outstanding, young cow that gave it's life for my dinner that night. So tender and awesome, it was unbelievable. I gave half of it to Phil for some of his pasta, which was also out of this world, and still couldn't finish it. I can't wait to take, Deb there the next time we're in Las Vegas. It was every bit as good, if not better than the Italian place in, New York, New York, and a third the price.

By now it's 6 or 7 o'clock, and we are both worn out. Back to the condo. Phil's in bed (I gave him the bedroom and took the Murphy bed in the living room as I stay up late, and he's always in bed early) by 10 o'clock, and I'm determined to stay up and watch the local news.

The weather report is not good for game day tomorrow. Could be a lousy game, and lousy weather.

Turns out to right on both accounts.

Next up, game day. And a failed Cuban Sandwich. Oh, the horror.

Fear And Loathing in Fillmore: Part Deaux.

The night in Fillmore was not good. Well not for me. Phil could sleep through a bombing of Dresdien and still get up at six in the morning totally refreshed.

The heater kept going out. It was a gas/electric thing on the wall that required you to light the pilot light, hold it down, then turn the dial to a number. One through five. I didn't want to heat us up too much, so I kept setting it to 1.

After about the third or fourth time I woke up cold, at about 3 am, I figured out that that the number was NOT a heat setting, but a TIME setting. I lit the thing up, and turned the fucker up to FIVE and slept well through the rest of the night. Someone without my extensive education might just have frozen to death that night! I felt like a really, tired, moron.

Phil slept through it all.

The next morning, Phil woke up way before dawn as he usually does. But still thinking the water was from Mexico, he didn't shower. Just brushed his teeth and washed his face and then woke me. It was around 0700 hours.

There were at least eight inches of snow ON the car. It was all I could do to get the trunk open to get the snow brush out, so I could brush the snow off and maybe, just maybe, drive it out of the parking lot. Which was up to my knees, WAY over my UGG boots, deep in snow. And still snowing.

I was able to back out of my parking place, and while, Phil took the key to the office, I drove up there. Were the Audi not a Quattro, All Wheel Drive, I would not have been able to. I was pushing snow with the bumper. Once, Phil got in, the snowplow's of Fillmore had cleared Main Street, but locked us in. The snow was at LEAST three feet high in front of the driveway of the motel. And thick, as they had been buy a couple of times over night.

Someone, coming or going, I don't know, in an obviously lifted truck with skinny tires, had left a mark in that snow wall. I just pointed the Audi at it, and stepped on the gas. The Audi didn't even spin tires, just jammed on through like it was nothing. Busting through the bumper high snow like it wasn't even there. We headed south on Main Street, hoping for a breakfast of something from the local gas station before heading south.

Yeah, right.

Just as we got in sight of the local gas station/Arby's/Convenience Store next to the freeway, the lights went out. And that is no analogy. All the LIGHTS, in the city, went OUT! No power, no breakfast. Shit.

We got on the freeway and headed south. Hungry, tired, wanting coffee and just not at all happy. Hoping the storm would end soon. And it didn't.

Most of the way to Beaver, we followed a big truck, at 40 miles an hour because the snow was blowing right into the windshield, and we couldn't see very well. So we figured we'd be better off behind him. When I finally got a chance to pass, and did, I had to stop in Beaver to take the ice off the wipers! This is now, officially, the worst trip I've ever made!

We get back on the freeway and it's not TOO bad. Phil is driving all the way to St. George because I can't take it anymore. And when we finally get there, still in the storm, but WAY out of the snow, it's a relief to pull of the freeway and go to the best restaurant in southern Utah, The Fairway Grill in St. George.

This place is great. Mostly old folks there, and the waitresses are not kids either. They do a great job, and the food is awesome. It's on St. George Blvd. It's my favorite restaurant in St. George. Great breakfast. But if you have the chance to have lunch there? Have the fries! they are AWESOME! Crispy steak fries. You will never have fried potato's this good, ever, anywhere.

We have breakfast and head south to Las Vegas. We get there, and it's about noon local time. So NOW what do we do? Can't check in until four o'clock.

We go to Planet Hollywood so Phil can get his daughter some jacket from some designer shop.

I've got an idea! Let's try to find the pawn shop from, "Pawn Stars"! I LOVE that show. I couldn't figure out, when it first started, why THIS was on the, History Channel. But when I'd watched a few shows, I learned a lot, and knew it was here for a reason.

Made a few wrong turns, but did find it. Pulled into the parking lot, and there is, I shit you not, a LINE, behind a velvet rope, to get IN! Really? There's a line to get into a PAWN SHOP!?

Have you seen the big, Black Man on the show that's at the door? He's working the, "rope" this morning. When he let's us in I ask him, "Is this normal?" He says, "Every day."

Wow.

Phil and I look around a little, since neither of us want anything out of a Pawn shop, I just wanted to see the place since I like the show. I buy some t-shirts for me and the kids. Deb doesn't wear tshirts. And I'm about to leave. But, "Big Hoss" comes out into the store. Oh, shit, he's a ROCK STAR to the guys checking out in front of me. So I have to stand there for a while, while they have him autograph their stuff. Bummer.

"BIG" Hoss is not THAT big. He's shorter than me, and not half as wide. So it goes.

I finally got close to a counter, jewelry, and ask the guy behind it, "I'm in the market for a .45 Auto. It's a gun I've always wanted and it would be cool to say I bought it from here. But I don't see any guns in here. Do you still sell them?" He said that, no they did not. They only sold historical guns. And most telling he also said, "We're now a t-shirt shop with a Pawn License". True story.

I still love the show. But I'm now smarter, and don't fall for it so much.

Next story? Why I can't get a lap dance in Las Vegas. Even when I tried, and had money with me.

Fear And Loathing in Fillmore: How The Trip to Las Vegas REALLY Went.

I should have brought the camera. This was a surreal experience.

As I said before, we were planning to leave for, The Las Vegas Bowl on Tuesday morning. That was until I watched the weather at 5 o'clock Monday night. They were warning of horrible weather all along the I-15 corridor the next day. This could make getting to Las Vegas an all day deal instead of the leisurely six hour drive it usually is. So I called, Phil and we decided that we should leave on Monday night and drive as far as we could stand to, so that if it was snowing the next day and travel was slow, we would still get to Las Vegas at a decent hour.

We decide to have dinner with our family's, and head out. Hoping to make it to Fillmore or Beaver before it started to snow and giving us a head start on the trip.

My friend, Diane came over just after we left, and so I came back to see her. She now lives in Las Vegas, but was visiting her parents. God bless her, she gave me a bottle of Maker's Mark for my birthday, told me to take it Las Vegas with us. Four hours later, we would be glad we had it. We left the Salt Lake Valley at 1900 hours. We thought we were pretty smart, to get out early and beat the storm.

Until we drove right into the teeth of it in Provo.

Snow was blowing directly into the face of the car. And even with the high tech lights and fog lights on the Audi, it was all you could do to see well enough to keep the thing in a lane. But by the time we got to Nephi, that didn't matter. There was only ONE lane, and the semi's in front of you were defining it as they went. And you either followed them, or took a big risk by passing them.

I decided a few years ago while driving to Denver to see the Redwings play the Avalanche on the day after Christmas, that the Audi has the best AWD system in the world if you are trying to stay on pavement in snow. I might not be what you want if you are hunting ducks, or trying to climb dirt trails, but for staying on the highway when everything from Suburbans to Subaru's are flying off the road in all directions, it can't be beat. And it served us well that night. I was even able to pass a couple of extra slow moving trucks when they gave me enough room. But even at that, the trip was made pretty much at 40 miles an hour.

When we hit Nephi, I told Phil we needed to make a decision. Do we stay there or try to push on to Fillmore? Because I didn't think there was a motel in Scipio, and I didn't want to spend the night in the car in a gas station parking lot. He decided we should keep going.

Easy for him to say. I'm driving and it's MY $50K car we are risking! I've been taking his advice for more than 30 years now and he's right WAY over 90% of the time, so I keep driving.

At one point, I'm in the right lane, well, on the right side of the road as far as I can tell, and letting a snow plow in the LEFT lane, lead the way when a big truck comes up behind me and is flashing his lights.

For those of you who don't know this, or don't travel a lot, flashing lights at the guy in front of you, when he is in the fast lane, means you would like to pass. It's not the equivalent of, "the finger". So I know what the guy is asking me to do. But I'm already in the SLOW lane! You want to go around? Your argument is with the guy in the snow plow! Not me.

I finally just slowed up enough to let there be plenty of room for him to go around me and get in front of me and pass the plow on the right. Easy for him, his rig weighs 80K pounds! The Audi is heavy, but not THAT heavy.

The stretch of I-15 between Nephi and Fillmore was a terror ride. A white knuckle, scary experience I hope to never have again. Every few miles, a car off the side. The only thing going past me were tow truck drivers in big assed 4X4's that had obviously done this a lot in this kind of weather, and who were racing to make a buck by beating the other tow truck drivers to some guy who needed to be pulled back onto the road, and some truckers who obviously felt like their load was heavy enough to keep them on the road no matter HOW much it snowed!

But the Audi stayed on course, never wavered. Even though changing lanes was scary, it just kept plugging away. Even when you hit the big piles of snow between lanes that would slow you down, it kept moving in a straight line. Other 4X4 vehicles I've had over the years would wobble a little. But not the Audi. It's German, so it just told the snow, "Neign!" when it tried to slow her up.

I've traveled this road a million times over the years. But only gotten off and taken Main Street in Fillmore a couple of times. It's a pretty little town. Nice park where the coaches made us get off the bus and run on the way to a high school football game in St. George. So, as far as I know, there are two motels in town. The Best Western on the north exit, who's, "Garden Of Eaten'" restaurant was probably the sight of the worst meal I ever ate. And a place on the south exit, next to, "Larry's Drive In" which I used to love to go to because they had the best chicken sandwich anywhere, but has gone down hill in the last few years, and now is just another small town greasy spoon next to the freeway.

I don't care about the food options at this point. I just want a warm place to sleep.

The Best Western is the first option. No vacancy. Now we're in trouble. I told, Phil that the chances are that the other one is full too, and we will have to just keep driving, or sleep in the car in a gas station parking lot.

So, in what turned out to be a good idea, I just kept driving down main street. I didn't want to get back on the freeway. It looks like the main street in Bedford Falls. Christmas decorations in all the stores. No other cars on the road at 9:30 at night. Actually very pretty.

And out of the corner of my eye, through the blinding snow, I see a bright red, "VACANCY". I don't even see the name of the motel. I slam on the breaks, and it takes the anti locks on the Audi a block to come to stop from 40 miles an hour. I pull a U turn and if it were not for AWD, I don't think we would have gotten into the parking lot, but we made it.

We go inside (and by the way, I looked at the receipt tonight when I unpacked my bag, and the place is called, "The Fillmore Motel") and despite the fact that no one running the place speaks a lot of English, they figure out that we want a room with two beds for one night and pretty soon we have a warm place to stay. I expected them to gouge us because of the weather. Nope. The room was $40. We get in in time to watch the news while we get ready for bed, and just as the news is ending, the cable goes out. No big deal, going to bed anyway.

Phil says he has to take some pills and wants to know if he can open one of the water bottles that we have in the cooler. Sure, but what's wrong with the tap water? He says, "You really think it's OK to drink?"

Uh, yeah. Just because the folks running the place are Mexicans, doesn't mean that's where the water is coming from. You're still in Utah. I don't think they're trucking it up. Knock yourself out and have a drink from the tap.

It's been a long night. This is where, Di's bottle comes in handy. We both need a drink before going to bed.

Later, part two. The rest of the trip, the strip, and the bad football.