Advice Column: What Happens In Vegas...

Dear J-Wunder,

I'm a big fan and can't thank you enough for the daily laughs. The world loves you and we need more mo' fo's like you in this galaxy. Ok, enough of the praises...I need some damn help bad. 

So I've been dating my girl for a year. Great gal. Awesome relationship. We get along really well. Sex is great. There's only one big problem - I'm the best man in my best friends wedding and in the next two weeks, is his bachelor party in Vegas. My girl doesn't want me to go and it's making her trip out big time. I've done NOTHING to show her I can't be trusted but I think she just has this whole idea in her head that "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." 

I need your help because as much as I love her, this is my boy and it's his bachelor party for crying out loud. We're going to have fun. We're going to go to strip clubs. That's what it's all about right? It pisses me off that she's trippin' and I really don't know what to tell her any more. She basically has given me the ultimatum that if I go, our relationship is over which I think is stupid as hell. 

Help because as much as I care about her, I need to support my boy for his last night of fun. 

Thanks,
Just a bro supporting his boy



Dear Just A Bro Supporting His Boy,

Oh man...here we go with another bullshit email about someone in a relationship tripping over nothing.

What's the goddamn deal with some people? Can't a guy or gal just go and have fun in Vegas without the other person having to worry?

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!

I find it highly entertaining that some relationships are all good until something so small, like a bachelor party (ok, maybe not so small), sets the other person off. Mind you, you've done NOTHING wrong in your 1 year relationship to even make your girl trip. Ain't that a bitch?!

I'm going to be honest like I always am and will tell you what I think about your girl and her opinion on you not going:

FUCK HER.

TWAT.

Who the fuck is this broad to tell you, the best man in your good bro's wedding, that you can't go to his bachelor party? Because it's in Vegas? You know how you said, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas"...NO FUCKING SHIT. This applies to anyone who goes. Kids, parents, grandparents, nuns, students who say they are going there for college because "they got a good business program". You could be the most boring person in the fucking world and should still know, what happens there, stays there. Period. And you don't even need to do shit.

Why the fuck does your girl think that's the goddamn slogan for that goddamn city? For fuck fucking sake, bromigo...your broad needs some Calgon to take her ass away from whatever the fuck she's already thinking. I mean, shit. See, this is what happens when people date insecure motherfuckers. Sure y'all are all good, but once you get to have a good time outside of the relationship, all of the sudden, bitches be all worried about nothing.

So what if you guys go to the strip club? So what if y'all get so drunk you end up passing out on some bench on the strip, covered in your own puke and piss at 5 in the morning? That's what happens at bachelor parties. That's what happens in Vegas. You do shit that will make a goat throw up and a whole congregation pray for your sins. That's the fucking point. Sure you may want to fuck a few broads who are down to ride the Pound Town Express...hell, you may even not want to work that hard and just pay a hooker to bang you...and sometimes, that's ok. But has it even happened? Are you looking to even do that? You probably aren't, but guess who thinks you are?  You guessed it...your girl who is about to guilt trip the shit out of you until that fateful day comes and your ass is on a plane to the land where STD's are born.

All I'm saying is if she trust you and you've given her no reason to not trust you, then go to Vegas and tell her you're going. Say that shit with the manliest voice you got, too. Like Kevin Hart said, "Say it wit yo chest!!!" If she doesn't like it, she can kick fucking rocks because not only is she stupid for wigging out, but she's stupid as fuck for being an insecure hatchet wound (that's "vagina" for y'all who don't know what the fuck I'm talking about).

You know, back in the day, when I would go to Vegas with my boys, which felt like every other month, my homeboys women would usually trip out. Not because they were going to Vegas, but because I was going with them. I was tagged as "J-Wunder...the baaaaaaaadddddd influence." No bullshit. Every girlfriend literally blamed me any time their men hung out with me and ended up too drunk or got in trouble. Like I put a spell on these motherfuckers or something. No joke.

This is probably what your girl is thinking - "All these dudes going to Vegas for a weekend of sin and as much as I love my man, I can't trust his friends." Well, let me tell your girl and the whole fucking world who love to blame other people for shit, something...if you're a grown ass adult that is capable of making your own goddamn adult decisions, then don't blame someone else for that person's mistakes. No one is going to make you take a shot or have that drink. No one is going to put a strippers pussy in your face and force you to smack it up, flip it or rub it down....ooohhhh NO. We might try and influence you to do some shit like get you so wasted that you end up putting that roofie you saved from Tijuana in your own drink, but hey, like I said, you're a fucking adult capable of making adult decisions.

On the other hand, maybe your girl had a past relationship where her ex-man fucked up when HE went to Vegas. If that's the case and you let her win this battle and you decide not to go, I suggest you hand over your balls to her right this fucking minute and know that you will never get them back. Congrats for being a little punk ass bitch. Again, that's assuming, this happened and you want to donate your balls to the "I Made My Man, My Bitch" Foundation.

These types of broads need to chill the fuck out and calm the fuck down. Like WAY the fuck down. It would be one thing if your ass pulled Shady McShadster during your relationship but from the sounds of it, you're like this beautiful ass angel and shit. Vegas is not a place for everyone. But it is a place for bachelor parties and a ton of fuckery. Now, if your girl can't live with the fact that you are going there to have fun with your boys and let loose, then fuck her.

This is not about you having fun. This is about her just being a complete insecure little twat. Real talk.

What I will say is that if you do fuck up, tell her. You'll probably get an ear full and will never be trusted again but know this...it takes more of a man to admit he's done wrong than a man to lie and get caught slippin'.

If you go to Vegas, tell your girl she can exit stage left if she doesn't like it. But if y'all do decide to stay together while you head out there, just remember..."What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

I'm not telling you what or what not to do. I'm just telling you what the motto is to the place you're going.

Good luck,

J-Wun

The Other Stall

I woke up in a haze on Sunday morning in my hotel room at Bally's. Usually, this isn't abnormal considering what the fuck I did on Friday night, then again on Saturday. I really gotta stop these Vegas 10+ hours of drinking bullshit. I'm not 21 anymore and I need to stop acting like I am. This is the part where I say some stupid shit like, "YOLO," but I want to keep my fans so I'll shy away from making a complete fucking ass out of myself.

Reeking of vodka, tequila, whiskey, what tasted like pizza, some birthday cake, cinnamon and a cigar, I needed to get food. REALLY FUCKING BAD. See, being 34 years old, this whole, "time to rally" shit doesn't work anymore. At least on me. The only thing that works the same now and when I was 21, is my Guamaconda...that's cock for you folks who have no fucking clue what I'm talking about. But that's for another time and another story.

Check-out time was around noon and with about 4 hours to kill, I went to some restaurant inside the hotel/casino...btw - don't ever eat at Bally's. Their food taste like something you could get out of a dumpster and a bum's asshole. But I digress...

As breakfast arrives at my table, I'm eating my food when all of the sudden it hits me:

THE BUBBLE GUTS.

Now, I know what you're all thinking..."J, not another infamous "J done shit his pants again" story, is it? Bro, control your asshole." No, no...it's fucking worse. Way worse. Keep reading.

I excuse myself from the table and dart straight to the goddamn restroom...ass cheeks clinched so tight, as I was walking, my motherfucking knees weren't even bending. Y'all know exactly what I'm fucking talking about too. Stop laughing.

I finally get to a stall and start to shake like a crackhead having withdrawals trying to put the toilet seat cover around the toilet. It was like I was having a fucking seizure and my hands along with my body couldn't sit still. I finally take a seat and unleash what was probably the next world war...but in the goddamn shitter. I had no fucking shame as I sat there yelling "God forgive me" while tears were running down my face because I forgot I ate way too many jalepeno's with my nachos at Senor Frogs the day before. At one point, I'm almost positive the bathroom attendant started reciting Hail Mary's and Our Father's because he thought an exorcism was going down in the stall he was mopping in front of.

The dust finally clears and my body calms down after what felt like the fight scene from Brave Heart was going on from my anus to the toilet for 10 goddamn minutes. As I sat there wiping the alcoholic sweat from my forehead and tears from my eyes, a guy comes flying into the bathroom and hits up the handicap stall next to me. Within seconds this guy is puking his brains out. And when I say puking, I mean, this dude sounded like a sea lion getting murdered in front of a thousand other sea lions just chillin'. That's how loud this motherfucker was.

Knowing I wasn't done dropping the heat, I sat there and was laughing at the fact it's not even 9am and this fucking dude is wasted and puking his brains out and saying shit that sounded like a baby looking for it's mom's titty. The worst part, when he was yacking with great vengeance and furious anger, he was hitting everything BUT the toilet. That's when shit got real...

Hands on my face, still pondering life and why I drink the way I do while in Vegas, I began to hear a pitter patter of puke approaching my feet and flip flops. Knowing this was the case, I pull my feet up as high as I possibly can but the fucked up part is while I'm doing that, dookie is flying out of my asshole like a roller coaster screaming down from the highest point. This was all way too fucked up.

He's puking like the exorcist, I'm trying to do fucking yoga while shit is machine gunning out of my anus and the bathroom attendant is cussing in Spanish at both of us because it's a complete shit show at this moment in time. It was so fucked up that at one point, I got a cramp so bad in my leg that as I go to put both feet down to stretch my leg out, this dude yacks towards my stall and my feet get hosed with something that resembled 3 days worth of Guinness and way too much beef stroganoff for a single human being to ever fucking consume. I know, I know..."J, why the fuck does this ALWAYS happen to you?! Like, all the fucking time?!" No fucking clue BUT why do any of you people care? You're laughing as y'all are picturing this fuckery in your head, right? You're welcome.

The bathroom stall is a mess, the bathroom attendant is pissed and there I am with a loaf hanging from my asshole with puke on my fucking feet. I saddle the fuck up, wipe like a big boy and as I leave, security comes and hauls off the dude who is so fucked up that I'm pretty sure he passed out puking. I head for the sink to wash my feet and flip flops because at that moment in time, I wasn't trying to be that fucking guy that motherfuckers stare at and say, "That fucking dude smells awful. Did he just puke on his fucking feet?!" At the sink, I'm scrubbing my feet and flip flops with no fucks to give when the bathroom attendant looks at me and says, "Senor, I so sorry that man puke in your stall. It sound like you not doing so good either. Ju ok? Vegas loco, pelon. Haha!"

I took one good look at this man and laughed. I said, "Senor, if you only knew the luck I have as a human being, all this fucking shit would look normal to you. Sorry about your bathroom brother. Here's a tip for your troubles."

It's never a dull moment in Vegas. Never a dull moment.

"The CODE" Of Silence

It's the rule every group of friends NEED to have. "You mean, last one to cum on the cracker has to eat it rule, J?" No, you sick fucks. I'm talking about "The CODE". What's "The CODE" you ask? Basically, "The CODE" is where you don't say shit and don't remember shit. Plain.And.Simple. That sounds so broad, right? Well let me break it down fuckers...

Las Vegas. Sin City. Disneyland for grown-ups. The place where there are no rules. There is no remorse. There are no goddamn morals. That my friends is a goddamn FACT. I've been to Vegas at least 70 times (issues, much?). No, I don't have a gambling problem. I have a drinking problem, thank you. Oh, is that funny? Fuck you. Yeah, it is pretty funny, huh? But I digress...

Any time anyone goes to Vegas, the absolute, number 1, motherfucking god forsaken rule that needs to be said before you even get to the airport is - "Remember The CODE." Say it with me people:

REMEMBER THE CODE.

Let's all be fucking honest with one another...Vegas, let alone any other place where you can cause a shit ton of fuckery and Tom Foolery, isn't for fucking pussies. This includes you ladies out there. Myself, along with many other shady fucks have done some shit that, let's just say, should never be talked about. EVER. Think less of me all you fucking want. The reality is, you've done it too. Probably some shit worse than me. Do I have any regrets? People, remember that regret is for suckers. No one would ever do anything if they didn't want to. So if you're sitting there, shaking your head and saying to yourself, "I regret hooking up with that prostitute that gave me krabs",  just know everyone reading this knows you're a goddamn fucking liar. You wanted that pussy as bad as she wanted that 200 dollars and your watch.

I don't care if you're in Vegas, some far off land or the local bar. When shit goes down with a bunch of friends that you all know shouldn't be talked about, the thing you never do is let it leave outside your circle. Doing that, will get your ass kicked, shot or fucking killed. What you remember, you don't. Whatever happened, didn't. As far as anyone is concerned, isn't your concern. I don't care if it had nothing to do with you..."The CODE" still applies...to EVERYBODY.

Now, I know some of you like to bring a camera to "capture the moment". Guess what assholes? Leave that shit at home or it will be broken. People, cameras are a big fucking no-no. It's bad enough we have cell phones with cameras on them. Which reminds me, if you ever see a motherfucker use the "camera option" on his/her phone, take that shit from them and throw it in the fucking ocean (or nearest area of water...this means a toilet). Again, let me remind everyone that no evidence is good evidence (I don't think that shit made sense). I had a friend once, that brought a camera with him to Vegas. None of us knew the pics he took were pretty foul (because we were all fucking wasted) and when we got back, he chose to show his girlfriend. Let's just say, she wasn't happy with "his friends" and that we were "bad influences". Guess what happened to picture guy? He's been on a milk carton since 2000. I don't know how he got there but that's what he gets. Fucking asshole. Pictures speak a thousand words. Sometimes more than a thousand. You can really get fucked over with pictures. Especially when they show a bunch of guys making out with college sluts with hands jammed up their skirts eating a Moon's Over Mihammy at Denny's at 5 in the morning. I'm just sayin'. Put that shit away or you will find yourself stranded in a very hot desert with nothing but a pair of shoes and 2 ounces of water. Got it?

When you finally get back from your trip or night out on the town, you will always be asked, "So how was it?" You know what you say? You say this and this only - "It was fun." Of course, they will want to know more (because they know you're full of shit) so they will come back and say, "So what did you guys do?" You simply say, "Oh, just sat by the pool and got drunk." PS - if there was no pool, there is now, fucker. ALWAYS keep it short and fucking simple. Yes/no answers. Always look them in the eyes. Never look down. Don't cross your arms. Keep everything under 10-15 seconds. Here's why...A few years ago, an ex-friend of mine decided to tell his girlfriend all the shit us guys did. The son of a bitch basically broke every goddamn rule of "The CODE" (the motherfucker even showed pics from his phone). Let me just say, we did some fucking shit that should have gotten us either arrested or killed. Soooo, after that happened, word spread fast to a lot of friends, girlfriends, etc., and the end result was not pretty. I won't get into details but I will say, ex-friend now has to live with herpes for the rest of his fucking life. Big S/O to the prostitute who he did not remember fucking who ended up giving him herpes. Sucks to be you asshole. Always remember to pack the plastic. Or is it latex? Not sure since I always go raw dog. Wait, what? Hope your girl loves those sores on her mouth.

"The CODE" is a must. No one wants to hangout with a loud mouth. Specifically, a hater. Yes, once you open your mouth, you're a fucking hater. So in summary, know your roll, and shut your mouth. Your friends will appreciate it. Write that shit down.

Oh, and if you're all asking why I wrote this column today, I'm heading out to Vegas in August. This is just a reminder to the people that I'm going with, that if you don't follow what I'm saying in this column, I'm not responsible if your ass ends up missing or catches something on your dick from that "hot bitch that was checking you out at the bar". I don't hangout with fucking pussies...so don't be one.

I'm out. Who's thirsty?

Some Women Need A Little Pit Bull In Their Lives...Not The Singer

Police in Las Vegas were called to the home of a 23-year-old woman earlier this week after her neighbors complained that she was having sex with a pit bull in broad daylight in her own backyard.

When cops arrived at the scene they found Kara Vandereyk "naked and on the ground," engaging in an unspecified sexual act with the dog.

According to the police report, Vandereyk, who appeared to be on drugs, greeted the officers with a "hi" and proceeded to "touch the dog in a sexual way."

She was covered with a blanket and asked a series of questions about her identity, the current date, and the name of the President, none of which she was able to answer.

Vandereyk reportedly told the officers that she was "bipolar," and claimed to be on "prescription medication."

Animal control was called in to remove the dog, and Vandereyk was arrested on a charge of open or gross lewdness.

Vandereyk was looking much better just six months ago, when she was arrested in Utah for an unspecified crime.

[mug shot via LVMPD]

via - Gawker

Calling All Vegas Lovers...

You know what's awesome? VEGAS. You know what's awesome (this is now a word)? Vegas for Labor Day Weekend. You know what's awesome rest (if you thought this also wasn't a word, it is now) and gives me a boner? Vegas for Labor Day Weekend AND being taken care of by my boy and now yours, Jet Dones. No bullshit, dudes name is Jet, like the fucking Jet. We're getting all Mach 3 up in this bitch.

When I think of Vegas, I think of all these things: Sun - Check. Booze - Check. Bungalows - Check. Money - Check. Sin - Check. Beautiful people - Check. All the madness you could ever imagine and get yourself into - Check mate, bitches. No one can deny a place that gives you all the pleasures in life, right? So why don't you get off your asses, book a flight (if you haven't already) and go to Vegas this weekend or any fucking weekend for that matter. Not only to be part of one of the dopest weekends in Vegas, but, to get the hook-up compliments from the man himself, JET DONES.

Now, before y'all get all cray-cray up in this piece and think you got yourselves a free fucking ride to heaven, sit down, take a deep breath and calm your asses down with all that fucking excitement. Not everything Jet provides is free. However, he will take care of your needs so that your time in Vegas is not only super-fucking-spectacular but, memorable and worth your while.

When going to Vegas, there are some rules you should all read, understand and follow:

1. GIRLS are always FREE. Sometimes with drink tickets, but don't hold your breath.
You could be the duckiest of duck faces or the hottest bitch on earth, bottom line, if you're sporting a vagina, say hello to FREE bitches. Get in where you fit in.


2. NEVER assume GUYS are FREE.
"But I go to clubs for free in L.A." You know what? Since you're boss status in L.A., may I suggest you go back to fuckin' L.A. you broke ass mother fucker?! Just because you may run shit in one place, doesn't mean you're going to run shit in another. Unless your ass is famous or got a special "in" with someone, if you're a dude, assume you're gonna have to drop some sort of dime. No one is saying you're gonna break the bank, but remember, never assume.


3. NO ALL GUY guest list (except for Palms).
Try and have at least an even ratio or better to get on guest lists. Guest list information are to be turned in before 9pm, so let Jet know where you wanna go before then so he can put y'all on. I love rollin' with the homies but for the love of fucking God, if you can, bring broads with you. Unless you're gonna circle jerk around a saltine cracker all fucking night, then don't bring hot chicks. Have fun with "Guys Night Out." Take that how you want to.


4. BOTTLE SERVICE would be the BEST experience.
"But its too expensive." NEWS FLASH: You go on vacation to spend money, not to save it. Realize you're going to spend money on cover at the door and drinks at the bar. So why not spend your money where it's worth spending...poppin' bottles bitches!!!!


5. TEXT only, NEVER call
Promoters/host like Jet never answer phone calls unless they personally know you. If you don't believe me, I've known Jet for a hot minute and I don't even call the mother fucker. Matter of fact, I barely know what the dude sounds like and we're like best friends...brothers almost. Real talk.


6. Jet can book clubs, pool parties, strip clubs, limos, hookers, midgets, you ask and you shall receive. The INDUSTRY thrives off gratuity. TAKE CARE of EVERYONE! What that translates to is: he takes care of you, I expect you take care of him. This doesn't mean, free reach-arounds. Well, unless you're a hot chick, then ok.


Like I said, all you need to do is text him, let him know you're coming and he'll take care of the rest. Oh, and if you're a female, that's even bigger incentive. So to you fellas who are thinking about cruising out, remember, bringing a few ladies along for the ride is never a bad thing. Trust me.

Want table service at the club? Jet's got your back. Need to bypass that long ass line of 500 mother fuckers? Jet's got your back. Anything you need for a weekend in Vegas, ask and you shall receive. Just don't be a goddamn douche. I don't like douches so don't expect him too either.

So don't miss out this weekend or other weekends you don't have shit to do. Head to Vegas. Party at the Palms for Ditch Friday's (especially you ladies). Get hooked up with access to practically any club you want in Vegas. I don't say shit just to say shit. Who do I look like, Casey Anthony? My word is bond. Trust me. Hit up Jet, go get drunk and enjoy the greatest weekend you probably won't remember. Who needs work when you have Vegas.

JET - 702.569.3173

24 Hours In Vegas

I've never done a 24 hour trip in Vegas for fun. I guess there's a first time for everything, right? 24 hours. 3 guys. 1 mission. Make this shit memorable. And memorable it was.

8:30am - Land in Vegas.

8:35am - Find bar at airport. Do a Mexican stand-off (shot of tequila with a tomato back, pound a beer). Let the games begin.

9am - Approached by girls who asked if I was Tony Parker from the San Antonio Spurs. My response, "Bitch, do I look French? What are you ladies doing later?" That didn't go over so well.

9:45am - Hit up Margaritaville. Do another Mexican stand-off with a Ghetto Genius Special (Jager bomb, Car Bomb, shot of Jameson...all in a row).

10am - Feeling good. My buddy pukes on the sidewalk. Not even an hour and a half into the trip and the fucking guy pukes. Apparently, he "drank too fast". Pussy. He rally's though. All is well.

10:07am - Hit up Casino Royale (the best place to get drinks fast, gamble on the cheap) for a little Black Jack Switch and Craps.

10:08am-11:30am - We're all up a few hundred dollars at the Black Jack table. Buddy #2 just got the 55 year old cocktail waitresses number because he wants to fuck this chick at her trailer park because he's never fucked a chick at a trailer park. He actually leaves with this broad after her shift to her trailer park. Buddy #1 is smoking two cigarettes at once calling the dealer Rick Ross. The dealer is white and looks like Eminem. He's shitfaced and I'm worried. So I steal his chips and tell him it would be awesome to smoke three cigs at once. He does. The pit boss kicks him out. I stay.

11:45am-12:30pm - I'm losing a few hundred at BJ and decide to play craps. I roll for a good 20 minutes. I forget to place any bets. Who the fuck does that? I know I'm drinking too much, too fast. I could have gained back the few hundred I lost, instead, I end up with no money with 4 Crown and Diets consumed. I leave to find Buddy #1.

12:35pm - Buddy #1 is talking to a group of chicks and grabs a few numbers to try and get us laid. First thing he says, "I got the blonde, you got the grenade." I say, "There were like 5 chicks though." He says, "Yeah, two of them were single, the other three had boyfriends." Looks like I'm having sex with someones face tonight.

1pm - Buddy #2 sends me a text: "Bro, I'm a legend. I not only nailed the 55 year old coug at her trailer park but she wanted me to give her the Dirty Sanchez. If you don't believe me, I'm gonna let you smell my finger. I have stains to prove this. Meet me at the MGM Grand pool. We need a place to bathe before tonight, so the pool is our best option. The chlorine will kill our funk and the shit on my finger. LOL!" Why do I hang out with mother fuckers like this?  Please note: We have no swim gear. Head over to the store to get some shorts and head over to MGM Grand pool.

1:43pm - At the pool and grab a cabana. Shots of Jameson, Cazadores to hit the spot. I'm feeling buzzed. This isn't good. I have a whole fucking night to survive so we order food. We eat, drink then it happens. Buddy #1 throws up...AGAIN. This mother fucker is killing me. I knew I shouldn't have brought him along. Too bad this trip was his idea. I tell him, "I don't care if you throw up 100 times today. Don't fuck this up for the rest of us. Sack up, grab a drink and stop acting like you're allergic to alcohol you pussy." He gathers himself, re-rally's and heads out to the pool to bring some broads back to our cabana.

2:05pm - Buddy #2 gives me the play-by-play with him and Cougs Magee. The mother fucker really did give her a Dirty Sanchez. The only reason I know this is because his undershirt was covered in shit, jizz and what looked like Nacho Cheese Doritos. I even got the whiff of the finger. I almost puked but I had to see the evidence in order to believe this guy. BTW - that bitch is a sick fuck and I will never look at her the same way ever again. Hey coug, if you're reading this, call me.

2:34pm - Buddy #1 brings back 4 chicks to the cabana. All ugly. They drink our booze and probably take 47 duckface pics in a matter of 7 minutes. The only thing I can say out loud is, "If you're gonna do that, can you at least show your titties for the people who might want to punch you in the face?" I'm in complete dick mode. First I get assigned a possible grenade for tonight now I have 4 bitches drinking our $300 bottle of vodka, eating our nachos and duckfacing like a mother fucker.

3pm - I'm making out with one of the duckface bitches. At this point, I just needed something to warm-up my cock for the shit show that will commence tonight. She wants to hang out. I tell her I have a girlfriend. She's confused. I'm not. She wants to fuck back at her hotel. I tell her I have herpes. She leaves disgusted and tells all her friends. I started scratching my cock but realize I should only scratch it if I have krabs. Fuck it, I scratch it anyway and blow her a kiss goodbye.

3:30pm - More shots of Jameson, Cazadores and finish off with a Ghetto Genius Special. Take a dip in the pool to clean off and jam out of the MGM Grand Pool to go gamble some more.

4:08pm - Hit up New York, New York for a little roulette. I throw down $400 on 2nd 12. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Up a thousand. Fuck...after the cabana, bottle service, food, shots and beers...up $200. Fuck it. Still winning bitches.

4:19pm - Buddy #1 gets a text from the blonde at Casino Royale - they want to meet up tonight AND the chicks with the boyfriends are down to hook up if that's cool? Does shit float? Of course it's cool. I decide to put on a condom so I'm prepared in case I forget. Not really, just needed you fuckers to laugh.

5pm - More drinks at the Palms. 2 Long Islands, some mystery shot, and a little lunch. We're drunk. Buddy #1 passes out at the bar while myself and Buddy #2 make friends with two sisters from Colorado. 10 minutes later, we're making out with them. It's starting to smell funny. Buddy #2 is wearing his Dirty Sanchez undershirt still. The sister he's making out with mentions it smells like shit. She looks at him all funny. I start laughing. The sister I'm making out with asks me what's so funny. I tell her. She looks disgusted. She tells her sister. That sister almost pukes on my buddy. They leave. He takes off his undershirt and throws it at her. He goes back to pick it up because it's "memorabilia".

5:30pm - Buddy #1 is still passed out at the bar. We pay for the bill with his credit card and take his cash. We leave him.

5:52pm-6:12pm -  Find a seat at the BJ table at the Palms. Our dealers name is Dong from Vietnam. I can't stop laughing. Neither can the other 3 people who sit down with us. Dong was pissed so I had to ease the mood. I tell everyone that Buddy #2 and I are professional janitors from Bakersfield, CA. We have a 20 minute conversation on the life a professional janitor and if it's a cool job. Playing the role, the best perk we said being a professional janitor at a big ass office building, "We get to bone the secretaries. They are dirty little whores." 

6:15pm - Buddy #1 finds us and frantically tells us he's been robbed of all his cash. Dong yells at him and tells him to stop crowding the table. Buddy #1 tells Dong to go fuck himself and throws his cig at him. Security comes running but the pit boss stops them from beating the shit out of him. Dong says he was assaulted. I tell Dong that I'm two seconds away from putting my dong in his goddamn mouth if he doesn't shut the fuck up. The 3 other people at the table are shitfaced and laughing hysterically. We get kicked out again. Not before I get a BJ and cash out $300 in winnings. Buddy #1 still doesn't realize we took his cash.

6:17pm - Buddy #1 throws up on the casino floor at the Palms. We will never be allowed back there again. Casino #2 we are kicked out of.

6:50pm - More drinks. More shots. At this point, I don't even know how many drinks we've had. I'm fucking wa-wa-waaaaaasssssssted!!!!  Myself, Dirty Sanchez and Buddy #1 know with 12 hours left, we gotta go B-I-G!

7:15pm - We're walking on the strip and see a cop. I'm up $500 and figure, since we're in Vegas, lets gamble with the cops. I walk up to the officer and with a straight face I say, "'Cuse me sir. Will you taser me for 100 bucks? I just want to see what it feels like drunk and my two buddies over there want to see if it makes you piss or shit your pants. So can you?" Officer looks at me and says, "You are gonna offer me 100 dollars if I taser you? Son, stand up against that wall and put your hands up." That's right, this mother fucker is about to arrest me. Dirty Sanchez sees this and says to the cop, "Nice officer, arrest that drunk bastard. Who would offer a cop 100 bucks to get tasered? I would at least offered 200." Cops looks at DS and asks him to stand against the wall with his hands up too. This is not good. AT ALL.

7:22pm - We talk the cop out of arresting us but get a warning for being drunk in public. As this is happening, there is a guy pissing to the right of us 20 feet away. We point this out to Officer Dick Fuck, and say, "If we did that, would you taser us? We just want to get tasered." He left, we didn't get tasered. Buddy #1 pukes for like the 10th time by the guy taking a piss.

8pm - We do dinner at some steak joint inside Mandalay Bay. We're all hammered beyond control and Dirty Sanchez is no longer wearing his button up. Dude is shirtless, drinking a martini and grubbin' on a rib eye. Waiter looks at him and asks if there's a problem? DS says, "I'm just living the fucking dream Pierre." Waiter says, "My name isn't Pierre." DS replies, "Ask me how many fucks I give, Pierre?" Manager comes to escort us out. Like the asshole he is, Dirty Sanchez wraps his steak in the fancy fucking napkin and walks out...still with no shirt on. Highlight from dinner - it was FREE.

8:15pm - 10:45pm - I black out. I don't remember shit. Well, a few pieces but nothing major. But according to Buddy #1, on our way out of Mandalay Bay a few things happened:

1 - I tried to negotiate with a prostitute. First it was a hand job for 2 dollars. Then it was anal for 50 bucks. She upped the ante for both to $550. I told her I'm in if she did it on the escalator in front of everyone. She called me a douche. I grabbed her vagina. She charged me 50 bucks. I gave her $35.

2 - Buddy #1 threw up, yet AGAIN. This time, on Dirty Sanchez's shoes. As punishment, DS made Buddy #1 smell his undershirt. Guess what? Dude threw up, yet AGAIN. Who the fuck throws up that much and doesn't have the flu? Seriously.

3 - We played Pai Gow at the Hard Rock. None of us know how to play Pai Gow. We lost money. Roughly $300 each because we thought we were at a Black Jack table.

4 - We finally find a Black Jack table and we're finally starting to gain some momentum with a few wins. Then shit hits the fan and we lose 5 hands in a row. I'm now down like $1,200. No clue how, but I guess I thought I can win it back. Apparently, I had 2 Aces to split but no more money. So I guess I put one shoe, my cell phone and 67 cents in change on the table and tell the dealer, "These items should cover my split. Hit me, fucker." The pit boss walks up and asks me to remove my items off the table and either place a bet with more chips for the split or hit it straight up. I threw my change at him. We get kicked out of casino #3.

5 - Dirty Sanchez made out with a midget. Like a real one.

11'ish pm - We hit up Marquee and are out of fucking control. Dirty Sanchez still has his fucking shirt off. Unfuckingreal. Buddy #1 is still hoping that whore blonde fucks him later and I'm completely shitfaced but am well enough to hold it together. The line for this fucking club is long as fuck but I have an idea. I'm going to tell the bouncer I'm related to Pitbull. I walk up to the biggest fucking black guy I have ever seen and just say, "Hey mang, can me and my compadres cruise on in? I'm related to Pitbull mang. Calle ocho, playa. Calle ocho. Calle ocho. Ocho calle. 1, 2, 3, 4...uno, dos, tres, quatro." I have no clue what the fuck "Calle ocho" means, I just know mother fucking Pitbull says that shit about a thousand times in one of his songs. I was obviously shitfaced drunk beyond belief. The bouncer looks at me, D. Sanchez, Buddy #1 and laughs. "C'mon man, you really gonna come at me and say that shit? You can come in for $200 each." Nothing more I could say than, "$200 each? You gonna give me a blow job too Big Daddy Kane? I know this place is tight but fuck that shit. How bout I shit on your clipboard and you let us in, you broke ass Herschel Walker?" He wasn't happy, neither were we. I was 2.5 seconds away from getting power bombed by this dude. Goodbye casino #4. Kicked out yet again for being "too intoxicated". More like "too awesome".

11:55pm - We hop in a cab and decide to hit up Spearmint Rhino. We're drunk, almost on the verge of broke and need to mix it up a little bit. Cab driver hooks us up with passes then proceeds to asks us if we want any ecstasy. Sanchez is all about it so he buys two pills from the cabbie who pretty much looks like he's homeless with AIDS who just stole the car about 10 minutes ago. DS pops them in his mouth and I just look at him like he's fucking crazy. "Bro, you realize you just bought ecstasy from a man who looks like he has AIDS, right?" "J, stop trippin' bro, this is Vegas...I'm fucking drunk so what does it matter? Let's go see some fucking titties." We arrive at the Rhino minutes later.

12:10am - Never in my life have I seen a Vegas strip club so packed, so early. Not sure if it was Asian businessman night, but it sure as fucked seemed like it here. Never seen so many Asian cats in business suits making it rain 20 dollar bills and shit. We grab a seat and wait.

12:20am - We all order a beer and a Ghetto Genius special. This is not good. Especially for Buddy #1 who looks like he might murder a bitch with throw up yet AGAIN for the 1,849th time. Doesn't matter, we drink that shit like champs anyway.

12:25am - I'm on the verge of baby drunk. You know, can't see shit and anything that comes out of my mouth makes no fucking sense?

12:27am - Dirty Sanchez is bitching because the "X" hasn't set in.

12:30am - Dirty Sanchez is asking me to give him a massage. Dude is wasted and the "X" has set in but he has no fucking idea because he's too shitfaced.

12:32am - The first slutty stripper comes our way. Buddy #1 calls dibs. We let him play. "Pour Some Sugar On Me" starts playing. Dude loves Def Leopard and the stripper takes notice. About a minute into the song, she does a handstand 69 and Buddy #1's face is now in her vagina with a 5 dollar bill hanging from his mouth. He looks happy.

12:34am - Not sure what the fuck happened but that look of happiness turns into a fucking nightmare. Buddy #1 throws up on the strippers vagina. Real talk. Chaos ensues.

12:36am - Me and DS run to the bathroom. No fucking way are we getting kicked out of this place because dumb fuck keeps throwing up. We watch the madness progress. Buddy #1 looks clueless and completely shitfaced, the stripper is disgusted and we watch her take all his cash, a 6'2" bouncer grabs Buddy #1 by the collar and calmly escorts him out the club while accidentally ramming his head into a few walls along the way. I was laughing uncontrollably. How could I be pissed. Dude has now thrown up 2 million times in a matter of 18 hours or so. The best part...he yacked on a strippers fucking vagina with a 5 spot in his mouth. Me and DS head back to the floor.

12:45am - I'm approached by a stripper named Kandy (go figure, right). I can barely see anything, completely shitty but am proud I still remember what is going on. I tell Kandy I want a dance and a handy. She tells me it's gonna be 300 bucks. I tell her to go fuck off...I got bills and shit to pay. That's outside my means.

12:50am - I'm puking in the bathroom. I want to die.

12:52am - Dirty Sanchez is in the stall next to me puking. We need to leave.

1am - Buddy #1 is calling up me and DS. We don't answer. He's a rookie. We don't like rookies. We head back out to the strip club and regroup and rally.

1:15am - We find two strippers and get dances. Drunk as fuck, we order more drinks. Just beers this time. 3 songs. 100 dollars later. We're happy and I think DS just came in his pants. We both forgot he was drunk AND on ecstasy.

1:35am - I go to the ATM and withdraw 500 dollars from my bank account. At this point, I have no idea how much I've spent. All I know is that I'm getting a bunch of ones and I'm about to make it rain like a mother fucker.

1:40am - I'M MAKING IT RAIN 1 DOLLAR BILLS!

2:10am - On my 4th stripper of the night. I've spent roughly 400 dollars in a matter of 35 minutes. I don't care. Dirty Sanchez has been getting the same lap dance from the same stripper the whole time I started to make it rain. She's getting paid while he's high.

2:15am - I am now on my second trip to the ATM. 500 more dollars I withdraw. I think I'm down $3K in less than 24 hours.

2:30am - Two strippers. 4 tits in my face. I'm covered in the scent of cocoa butter and glitter. I have the worst case of blue balls but I can't get hard for the life of me. I'm so drunk but having the best time of my fucking life. I get a secret quick handy from both strippers. They walk about 200 dollars richer. Each. What the fuck am I doing? I just spent 400 bucks for 10 minutes and I didn't even bust a nut. I'm pissed.

2:35am - I tell DS we need to fucking leave. I've spent over $1K at a strip club and I'm too fucking drunk to comprehend anything, let alone English. He hands me over a credit card. It's Buddy #1's. We stay for another hour.

2:40am - 3:40am - 4 more lap dances and shit ton more drinks. I was able to negotiate 2 free lap dances because I've been so kind in supporting 10 strippers with their college education for the last 3 hours. I ask "Sexy Lexy" to make out with me for 20 bucks. She makes out with me for free. Wish I would have told her I threw up earlier. WINNING.

3:45am - We leave with smiles on our faces and about $3K poorer. DS is half naked, AGAIN, and is still fucked up off the "X". We head back to the strip.

4:05am - We find Buddy #1 passed out on a bench in front of Bally's. Covered in puke. People are taking pictures of him. We wake him up and decide to play one last hand inside one of the casino's. We head to Excalibur because that's where I first went when I was 21. You always gotta go where you popped your cherry.

4:25am - We get to the first roulette table we see and pull out all the money we had left on 2nd 12. It was roughly 250 bucks. Dealer spins the ball and we watch it roll in slo-mo.

4:27am - Buddy #1 pukes A-G-A-I-N. Right before we watch the ball hit 18...a fucking winner. They stop the game, yell some shit at the top of their fucking lungs and what do you know...kick us out. Peace out Casino #5. At this point, I just want to punch Buddy #1 in the face. But how could I when DS and I just maxed out his credit card at the Rhino. Oops.

4:45am - Broke, battered, drunk and haggard we head to the airport.

5:25am - Buddy #1 checks his phone to see that the blonde from Casino Royale wants to meet up. He looks at this text, looks at us, rolls down the taxi cab window and throws his phone. Silence and not a single fuck was given.

5:45am - We hit our gate at the airport and look like we've been through hell and back. We're still wasted, we smell God fucking awful and what we've experienced in the last 22 hours is nothing I could even digest, let alone...I don't even know. I have no fucking words.

6:30am - Board our flight and don't say shit to each other. As I go to look for my seat in the foggy haze, the flight attendant takes one look at me and says, "Looks like someone had an interesting night. Hahahaha.", as I stand there scented with cocoa butter and glitter all over my fucking face. Shirts a fucking wreck. Sin all over my body but a smile that only says, "I did Vegas right." That we fucking did.

It was the quietest flight I have ever been on. When we landed, I told Dirty Sanchez and Buddy #1 we shouldn't talk to each other for at least 4-6 months. They agreed.

24 hours in the books and day that will never be forgotten. The only sad part...I didn't get laid. Fuck it. Shit happens. Until we meet again Vegas.

Vegas Pool Party Anyone????

Everybody (even fat people) love a good pool party. So what if I told you, I could hook you up to one of the best pool parties around? No bullshit...remember, I'm J-fucking-Wunder and I know a lot of mother fuckers. True story. But this isn't any pool party. This is a Vegas pool party folks. Specifically, Ditch Friday's @ The Palms. Interested? Keep reading...

Sun - Check. Booze - Check. Bungalows - Check. Beautiful people - Check. All the madness you could ever imagine and get yourself into - Check mate, bitches. No one can deny a place that gives you all the pleasures in life, right? So why don't you get off your asses, book a flight (if you haven't already) and go to Vegas this weekend or any fucking weekend for that matter. Not only to be part of one of the dopest pool parties in Vegas, but, to get the hook-up compliments from the man himself, JET DONES.

All you need to do is text him, let him know you're coming and he'll take care of the rest. Oh, and if you're a female, that's even bigger incentive. So to you fellas who are thinking about cruising out, remember, bringing a few ladies along for the ride is never a bad thing. Trust me.

Want table service at the club? Jet's got your back. Need to bypass that long ass line of 500 mother fuckers? Jet's got your back. Anything you need for a weekend in Vegas, ask and you shall receive. Just don't be a goddamn douche. I don't like douches so don't expect him too either.

So don't miss out this weekend or other weekends you don't have shit to do. Head to Vegas. Party at the Palms for Ditch Friday's (especially you ladies). Get hooked up with access to practically any club you want in Vegas. I don't say shit just to say shit. Who do I look like, Casey Anthony? My word is bond. Trust me. Hit up Jet, go get drunk and enjoy the greatest weekend you probably won't remember. Who needs work when you have Vegas.

JET - 702.569.3173

What happens in Vegas...goes on Facebook

Just so you know folks...

Two words: BAD ASS

MDW + Vegas + Jet = Good Times

Memorial Day Weekend is right around the corner and the only question I have is, what the fuck are you doing? I have an idea, go to Vegas. If you're going, awesome. If not, go assholes. Why? Well, for a few reasons:

1) You can get away with murder.

2) You can have sex with pro's. Not pro athletes but, prostitutes.

3) You can lose your life savings.

4) You can marry a stranger you just met at a blackjack table.

5) You can look like a whore or douche and not be judged.

6) You can do things Mormoms dream of doing...that's pretty much everything.

7) You can die due to your stupidity.

8) You can stay awake for 72 straight hours and not remember a goddamn thing.

9) You can hang at the beach that's really a big ass fucking pool.

10) You can enjoy the best weekend of your life without having to think about it.

Wait, "You can enjoy the best weekend of your life without having to think about it"? Why yes...yes you can. How? All you gotta do is hit up this guy:

You like clubs? Done. Jet will take care of you. You like VIP? Done. Jet will take care of you. You wanna go to a pool party? Done. Jet will take care of you. You wanna "make it rain" hundreds and fifties on a handful of titties? Done. Jet will take care of you.

One guy. One name. One number.

JET: 702.569.3173

He's my man at the Palms and will get you access to every place there and then some. Don't bother waiting in lines with all the other fucks that are looking to have a good time. Just hit up my boy and all your worries and waiting will be taken care of. Hey, if you're lucky, you just might be drinking with a group of banging chicks and hot guys that like how you roll.

Text him. Tell him J-Wunder sent ya and please...don't act like a fucking douche. But if you do, do it when everyone else if fucking drunk.

Trust me. Get hooked up so your weekend can be that much more entertaining...and sexual. Just don't get arrested and blame it on me.

Cheers!

Just Put it on my TAB

You're Welcome.

Big Thanks to J-E-T

Here's an email I got from a reader on their recent trip to V-E-G-A-S this past weekend. I told you, I don't say shit, just to say shit. Hit up my boy...you can thank my ass later.


Dear J-Wunder,


Just wanted to give a huge thanks regarding the column you wrote on your boy Jet. I was a little skeptical thinking that this was some b.s. on some guy that you were friends with. However, I said, "What the hell" and decided to text the guy. Let me just say that what you said, you weren't lying. Once I told him that you sent me, he took care of me and treated me like he knew me since childhood. I kinda felt like a kid in a candy store because Jet pretty much said, "Whatever you want, I'll take care of you." And being this was only the 4th time I've been to Vegas, we decided to do the club scene. Jet hooked us up at all the places in the Palms and access to VIP with 2 for 1 bottle service. Can I just say that shit was poppin' and was off the fucking hook? That was just the first night too. Jet was cool enough to even invite me and some friends to a pool party the next day. And if I didn't have prior plans, I would have went, got piss drunk and probably died a happy man. So we made up for it and got hooked up AGAIN, at Club XS on Saturday night. Lets just say the weekend was good and my hangover on Sunday was well worth it (and I got laid). Appreciate the hook-up and please let Jet know, next time we come back to Sin City, we'll have him on speed dial. Whoever is going to Vegas needs to look him up because he's one guy that really does take care of you. Many thanks and keep up the great work! 


I'm still hungover,
The Hangover


Going to VEGAS? Program this name and these 10 digits in your phone and you should be shitting pretty for the weekend. Would you EVER DOUBT ME PEOPLE? You're welcome.

JET - 702.569.3173

His Name is J-E-T

Las Vegas...the place that I like to call "The Disneyland for Grown-ups". I don't care who you are. If you have any intention on going to Vegas, your ass is looking to party, get drunk, and do some shit that is barely legal. Hey, I'm not one to judge. I've been to Vegas over 50 times (yes, this statistic is actually FACTUAL) and have no shame in saying, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." I mean, why would any mother fucker say that, if it wasn't true, right? See, Vegas is a place where you aren't even your real self, any way. You can be broke as fuck, but act like you rich as shit and people will buy it. You can be the ugliest bitch on the planet, but I guarantee you, someone in Vegas is willing to fuck you. Now, whether the dude might be blacked out drunk, roofied or somehow lost a bet to his buddies, ain't no ones business...all that matters is that you got some wang chung, right? That's Vegas for ya.

In Sin City, gambling is a given. Shopping is a given. Pool time...an absolute given. But what is missing? What is the BIG TIME buzz and reason people actually go to VEGAS nowadays? One word: CLUBS. 22% of you folks reading this are probably saying, "Fuck all that, clubs ain't my thing. I go there to gamble and play circle jerk with my 8 other buddies that I'm sharing a hotel room with instead." But the reason you say that is because you have no "IN". The funny part about Vegas is that if you plan to go to the club, you want to go to the hottest ones. The problem is, you're not willing to wait in line. Am I right? And if you're a fucking dude, with a bunch of other fucking dudes, you sure as hell gonna be waiting a bit longer than a dude that is with a bunch of hot ass bitches (throw in a chubby one too, if you'd like). That's reality my friends and it pisses you off. But what if I told you I could help change all that? What if I said, I know a guy that will take care of you. You need VIP? Done. You need to bypass that long mother fucking line with 1,000 other people in it? Done. Hell, you want some special hospitality at a strip joint? Done.

There is one dude...one cool ass dude that can help you with all that. He goes by the name J-E-T. Not the football team. I'm talking about the dude, Jet.

Remember when I went to Vegas a few weeks back? J-Wunder living the good life, at the clubs sitting VIP drinking my ass off? Remember that? Facebooking away like I was someone fucking special? Well friends, that wasn't because my name was J fucking Wunder. It was because of my boy, JET. This dude took care of me and the people I was with. In two days, I went to Revolution, JET Nightclub and Moon @ the Palms - it was Spring Break too (AND MTV was there). Lucky for me and my peeps, we bypassed every fucking line and sat our pretty asses down at a table. Matter of fact, at Moon, I had a dude come up to me, and tell me he'll be my security for the evening. Now I don't know if Jet set that shit up, but whatever the case, that made my fucking dick grow another half inch. Making it a mind blowing 2.5 inches while hard, now. Who does that? Who takes care of you that well where even security tells you, they'll be the guy fucking up anybody that tries to intrude your party? No mother fucker I know. Was that probably coincidence? Sure. But do I care? Fuck no. I was living the high life and my boy Jet made sure of it.

Folks, I know quite a few nightclub promoters. And they're all good at what they do. But this dude, in my opinion, takes the fucking cake and the candles that go with it. And the ones that know me, know...J-Wunder loves a good fucking party and doesn't fuck around when shit be poppin' VIP style...ESPECIALLY IN VEGAS. If this guy wasn't the shit, I wouldn't be blogging about it. And not only is this dude a promoter for the Palms, but this cat is cool as a mother fucker too. I'm almost convinced he's my cousin (scary, right). Jet took care of me and is one of those guys that will take care of anyone I throw his way. That's why I'm showing some love and spreading the word.

So if you're going to Vegas, and looking to party and hit the hot spots, text my boy, Jet. Don't call him and leave some long ass fucking message because the dude doesn't have time to listen to 2,000 voicemails. Just text him and the dude will take care of you. 3 things: #1 - Who you are? #2 - How many dudes and hot ass bitches in your group? #3 - What do you need? Trust me...my big brother is there right now and I will say this...that mother fucker is having a blast and will probably be hungover and sleep deprived for 2 months. Would I ever lie to any of you? Exactly. Now go book your trip, buy some hot ass gear, text Jet and tell him, J-Wunder sent ya!

Oh, one last thing...be cool, don't look like a fucking douche and remember...party like J-Wunder would!

JET - 702.569.3173

Sex Education