Utah is Dry no More and Jack Nicholson Might Show up in my Hotel Room
I’m in Salt Lake City for my niece Paige’s wedding. Here’s proof (in case you thought I was actually in Guadalajara muling the latest shipment of Bolivian white in my large intestine. Hah! You’re wrong. That was last week.) This week’s all about Utah Travel.
I must say that I’m a bit disappointed in Brigham Young’s fair city. It has been incredibly easy to not just find booze, but to also consume said booze. In a previous visit I was more likely to deflower Joe Jonas than cop some wine.
But people are practically knocking me over the head with bottles of pinot grigio. And I have to say, it’s put me off booze. I mean, what’s the point of flouting authority (and the Mormon Fuzz) when they don’t care? I’m fairly certain my bartender is in the bishopric.
All I really seem to crave right now is some warm milk and a Thai caning. Neither of which I am capable of purloining in The Peery Hotel aka The Overlook Hotel in The Shining.
So apparently, should I survive my stay in The Peery (Shelley DuVall just walked by) I am now a teetotaler. And possibly a ghost! The naked one in the shower who transforms from a sexy hottie into a hideous, old lady. (Which, if you ask me, is age discrimination).