It's good to be back. Although I've really enjoyed my little break from the internet. But today, a new challenge is up at the Creative Type. All about messing with your letters. Covering them, painting them, sanding them, throwing ink on them. It is fun, I tell you. Come play.
And now I feel like I'm overdue for a Vegas re-cap. Don't worry, traveling pals – I promise, nothing too embarrassing here.
We didn't make Erin re-visit Taco. But we did have a good laugh when we saw this sign.
Since we had covered the strip pretty well last year, this time we ventured to Fremont Street to see the old Vegas sights.
We made a stop at The Griffin, which led to some of the best times of our whole trip. And the funniest photo ever. Which I don't have because it's on Erin's camera. But trust me, you'd laugh.
Attempted to hit up the Beauty Bar, but no luck.
And watched a super rad lazer show.
But our most adventurous night (and my favorite part of the trip) was spent at the Double Down, which is apparently somewhat of Vegas punk rock legend. They never close. They serve things like a bacon martini and offer puke insurance. The guy who carded us at the door initiated us by walking by our table every once in awhile and thwacking one of us upside the head. We sat down, took a look around and found our Vegas home. (Because I'm not even going to tell you about the night before when we attempted to go to Ghostbar or Rain at the Palms. On Memorial Day weekend.)
Bonus for us was seeing Brutally Frank play a pretty killer set. (That's the lead singer actually standing on the upright bass mid-song.)
The Double Down is also home to one of the most fantastic bathrooms I've ever seen.
Covered, and I mean completely covered, in paint.
Which may gross some people out, but I assure you, it really wasn't that bad. Okay, that floor is bad...
You couldn't help but sit and admire the crazy artwork covering every square inch of the walls and ceiling. (Okay, we're out of the bathroom now. The entire bar was painted with murals.) Unreal. Wish I had been brave enough to take pics of the whole place, but yeah, it was just one of those bars where I really didn't want to be that girl. So you only get photos of the bathroom.
Erin and I afterwards at the Hard Rock. (And our biggest regret? No photos from Wasted Space.) There really is no dressing up for us. Vans and Converse. And many, many, many good times. Sorry Vegas, we had to leave eventually. The midwest needed us back.