SomaCow

Just to show you what a gambling n00b I am: I didn’t even know about the Exploding Mosquito Bonus.

That’s right, this past weekend we gathered all the loose change out of our sofa and hit the long, thin parking lot that is Interstate 4, bound for the fabulous Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Tampa.

If you’ve never been to a Hard Rock property before, it’s like going to a rock concert and somebody decides “Hey! We should build a hotel here and never stop partying!”. And then somebody else yells “Yeah! And we could get the Seminole Indian tribe to run it for us!”. And then everybody kind of mopes around because cheap cigarette prices are not enough incentive to hang out with Indians for any length of time.

But there is music everywhere! Even song lyrics posted around the hotel. Like, when you pull up out front, huge block letters proclaim “Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends… – Emerson, Lake & Palmer“. And over the the front lobby exit doors it says “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. – The Eagles“. And on the movie-ordering screen on the TV in the room it says “We’re sorry, but you have reached the daily limit for ordering porn. – The Management“.

One thing that was really cool, to me, was the display they had of actual costumes worn onstage by KISS. You cannot consider yourself a real “player” until you have come face to face with the stains on Gene Simmons’ codpiece.

We gambled until five o’clock in the morning, primarily playing the Tabasco videoslot machines. Imagine the electric excitement of putting money into a flashing, beeping, throbbing slot machine, pressing the “Bet Max” button, waiting five seconds, and then doing it all over again! I can finally understand how people get addicted to gambling.

Speaking of which, the casino very responsibly offers a “Self-exclusion program”. This allows people with gambling addiction issues to say “I am unable to control myself, please do not allow me to gamble at your facility”. Then, if you try to gamble there anyway, armed security guards gently and respectfully escort you away from the gaming tables and shove your face in Gene Simmons’ crotch. The program has a 100% success rate.

The hotel also houses “Floyd’s Nightclub”, one of the most popular hot-spots in all of southeast Tampa. You can tell how good a nightclub is by the number of women’s nipples you get to see during your visit. I stopped counting at twenty-three, although I assume there must have been a twenty-fourth nipple that I was too drunk to notice, otherwise somebody there was a freak of nature. Most of the girls at the club must have been professional gambling instructors, because they would leave with a guy, then come back about thirty minutes later with a whole bunch of the guys’ money, and the guys seemed very happy. I think it’s very decent of these ladies to try to help out such obvious beginners.

The dining was excellent, if a little pricey. Dinner for two at the seafood buffet was seventy bucks, plus gratuity, but that was still less than the cost of the King Size Snickers I got from the mini-bar fridge in our room.

Would I recommend the fabulous Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Tampa to you, dizzy reader?

Oh HELL yeah.

I think the “gambling lessons” alone would be worth it.

Tags: boobs, casino, Emerson, gambling, Hard Rock, kiss, Lake, nipple, Palmer, Seminole, Snickers, tabasco, Tampa, teen, The Eagles

SomaCow Media, Inc. in proud to present SomaCow, brought to you in this hour by Text-Link Ads… If you have a blog worth a damn, you should be using them.

Ah, Florida – In this hour, we discuss what is wrong with our home state skillet, and why the rest of you people no longer want to grace her shelly beaches with your overwhite fat flesh. It looks like the streams of “New Family” arrivals into our fair state have dwindled to lows not seen since the great Sadness of ‘77 (see also, Dumb Gov., Gas Shortages, and Stupid Hair). Whereas we had once been content to sit back and wait for the multitudes to settle down in our suburbs, lapping up the over-chlorinated groundwater, settling into their stucco empires and demanding the immediate erection of god knows how many Wal-Marts, Walgreens, and Walled Communities, it is now apparent that we can no longer count on John and Jane Q. Pennsylvania to swell our ranks.

So, what is a suddenly single stategal like Florida to do to make ends meet? We used to simply pay tribute to The Mouse, as The Mouse would attract dollars to its various theme parks and overpriced resorts, allowing us the occasional mealy morsel in the form of a Bed Tax. With a tanking economy, the idea of waiting for millions of vacationers to show up with a fistful of financial stability doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

Some people scream, “Let’s get some GAMBLIN’ already!” – I ask those people to look at New Jersey, or those god-awful southern states along The Hurricane Brim. Poor bastards live hand to mouth, and most people with sense can see that gambling makes Casinos and Land Developers rich, not citizens. Plus, they attract crime, and as we are rapidly advancing on the Murder Capital of the Country prize here in Orlando, I doubt we can afford to plug in a giant neon bandit brigade right now.

And so, we at SomaCow have a simple solution – Boobs.

I know, we ALWAYS say boobs, but, seriously, boobs.

Open the finest strip clubs in the country. Kick out the sleaze, the ne’erdowells, the coke dealers and the just plain creepies. Build strip clubs on every corner, and stock them with clean kids with business degrees and fresh immigrant poon. STATE OPERATED STRIP CLUBS is what I am driving at. Every girl that does enough sit-ups to be able to hold her own weight up sideways on a brass pole gets a tax break. We have the sun for tanning, it’s certainly hot enough to make most girls want to get undressed, all we need is the legislation to allow a friendly neighborhood boobecue on every corner. Get rid of the stupid purple buildings, and the creepy smoked glass, and the lame ass gold chained fur chested fauxmafia types, and make a strip club into the kind of place a man would proudly bring his kids to live beside. I gotta get some more facts here, so consider this one in the works. Mickey announced his intention to open the first prototype!

We’re still recovering as a city from Nipple-Shock. It seems that the WWE had to modify their promotional materials here in Orlando so that MALE wrestlers nips were not showing. When I first heard about it from Xander on The Lunar Room, I realized that I do not currently have a large enough font to display my wtf-acity.

Speaking of wtf-acity…

I mean, why would anyone want this taken down? It’s the truth, right? Or is it? Should you raise your children with religion? religions? If you do will they turn out like J and sue the church?

Mickey actually quotes Bill Clinton in his Life Coaching this week at the :40 so check it out!

J doesn’t get aroused in strip clubs. I am just saying.

We’re never taking down the following great bands:

• Richard Cheese – Girls, Girls, Girls
• The Vandals – Fucked Up Girl
• They Might Be Giants – The Mesopotamians

Tags: ads, arousal, aroused, be, bed, bill, billboard, blog, boobs, brass, capital, casino, cheese, clinton, clubs, comedy, dancer, disney, fleetwod, forida, gambling, gas, giants, governor, independant, independent, internet, link, lunar, mac, male, mickey mouse, might, murder, music, nipple, orlando, Podcast, pole, radio, religion, richard, room, somacow, strip, sun, talk, tax, text, the mouse, they, tmbg, vandals, wal-mart, wrestler, wtf, wwe, xander