True Story©… Viva Las… Dammit

 

     Despite the utter 2020-ness of 2020 and the prayers of people who once SWORE they were on my side, I made it out of 2020 whole.
Yes, I got a 6-week furlough that wound up being VERY productive in terms of what was done around the house and pushing me back to writing.  The bigger point of the “whole” assessment there is that there were no missed mortgage or car payments, nothing was in danger of being cut off or defaulting and we got a shaggy dog while I was home.

I say all that to say that if I did so well on a summer vacation from Memorial to Independence days, I am hurting for nothing in the time since.

     As some of you may recall, we went to Vegas before ‘Rona decided that the world need to chill the fuck down for 14 months (and counting because some assholes have no chill).  For those of you who DON’T, here is a reminder…
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     Welcome back…

As Nevada and Las Vegas come back open, hotels on and off the strip have been champing at the bit trying to get bodies in rooms and asses on casino floors.
In cases such as the one you should have read above, they are also in need of some entertainers to occupy people as well and I was apparently more successful in my attempts to become an entertainer than I felt at the time.

My phone rang…

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “May I speak with uhh…  Moe Phillips?”

… I knew it was someone who did not know me.

Me: “Speaking.  Who’s this?”

Caller: “This is the rewards department from MGM resorts and hotels.”

Me: “Right, right…”

Caller: “I see that you and your wife stayed with us last February, and we actually married you a bit before that?”

Me: “Correct.”

Caller: “Had you guys thought of coming back through Vegas anytime in the near future?”

Me: “Not while the Wuhan Bat Flu is still outside, no.”

Caller: “I’m sorry…  Wu-han…  bat…  fl--…”

Me: “…  covid.”

Caller: “Ahh, I see--…  Oh shit, Wuhan Bat Flu, I get it haha.”

Me: “Nice…”

Caller: “Okay, so anyway.  We’re trying to get people acclimated to travel as things open back up and--…”

Me: “I was vaccinated, but nah homie.”

Caller: “Well we can make it worth your while.”

Me: “I’m listening.”

Caller: “Well in addition to comping your room, we can slide you guys some dining or gambling credits for your stay.”

Me: “Interesting…”

Caller: “You may even be able to make a few bucks while you’re here.”

Me: “Now you have my attention.”

Caller: “Now look…  Last time, you operated on really short notice, and--…”

Me: “Wait…”

Caller: “… and rudimentary promotion that was all hand to hand and word of mouth…”

Me: “Hol’up…”

Caller: “… but I think you were ON to something with the--…”

Me: “… PLUS SIZED MALE REVIEW?!!?”

Caller: “Bingo!”

Me: “Nah-ah…  No way!”

Caller: “C’mon, we can work together and make it a hit!”

Me: “No, y’all will come up with some corny shit and make it all kinds of--…”

Caller: “We’ll call it the ‘Dad Bodstravaganza’!”

Me: “Like I said…  Corny.”

Caller: “But you’re not hearing me out!”

Me: “Correct, I am not.”

Caller: “You don’t want to hear about the money?”

Me: “I mean…  I DO want to hear about the money.  It’s the dancing on the stage with other, also fat, dudes that I take umbrage with.”

Caller: “Is there anything we can offer to make this worth it?”

Me: “It’s gonna cost you a whole lot more than free room and some gambling credit.”

Caller: “Such as?”

Me: “Half!  As the inventor of the ‘Plus Sized Male Revue,’ I feel as if I am owed some kind of royalties for the use of said--…”

Caller: “HALF?!!?  David Blaine doesn’t even get half out here!”

Me: “Did David Blaine have a Red Hat Society lady throwing her panties at him while he ate at FatBurger with his wife?”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “Never mind.”

Caller: “I don’t think I wanna know”

Me: “You don’t.”

Caller: “So you won’t even consider it?”

Me: “I have to bounce it off the wife person, she is our travel planner person.”

Caller: “Please do.  When you know something, you can reach me at 702-[redacted]”

     For the rest of the afternoon I had a mashup of LL Cool J and Biggie’s “Back to Cali” songs earworming their way through my entire soul, with “Vegas” replacing “Cali” at the end of the lines.

Then wife person comes home…

Me (still singing): “I’m going going, back back, to Vegas Vegas.”

Wife Person: “You what?”

Me: “So check it--…”

Wife Person: “Oh shit.”

Me: “Vegas called me and--…”

Wife Person: “What are they calling you for?  I do our itinerary.”

Me: “I told him that.”

Wife Person: “So why’d they call you?”

Me: “You remember my performance art endeavor last time we were out there?”

Wife Person: “HA!  Performance art, sir?”

Me: “Listen, I wanted to be a fatman star!”

Wife Person: “You embarrassed yourself.”

Me: “I also made $243 for less than an hour of my time…”

Wife Person: “But you embarrassed yourself.”

Me: “And one of those old ladies tipped me another $10 every time they saw me the rest of the weekend.”

Wife Person: “Stop it!  What did they want?”

Me: “They want to make my plus sized male revue a thing now.  I guess that means I gotta get the old banana hammock out the drawer and start packing a bag.  We headed to Vega--…”

Wife Person: “No.”

Me: “That’s it?  Just no?”

Wife Person: “Yes.”

Me: “A-HA!!! I tricked you, let me find my TSA Pre Check information and--…”

Wife Person: “No, we’re not doing it!”

Me: “But it was my dream!”

Wife Person: “And you achieved it!”

Me: “You never let me do nuffin’!”

 

     And she just walked off from me.

After considering the amount of time that we do not have to be in Vegas with me shimmying like a newborn dolphin on a stage and trying not to cry, I decided that the wife person was right.  I called Vegas back and advised that there was really no in-person market for a plus sized male revue.

… but this onlyfans I’m about to start though…