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  • Ramblings

    I drink the Kool Aid. It's strawberry. Mmmm strawberry.

     

    I wouldn't want to be the NFL game official whose jersey reads BJ. But that's likely just me. If the league ever introduces female officials, that's where they'll start. Who says it's the No Fun League?

     

    In his prime, Bo Jackson would've taken god (or whoever) in a steel cage match. Mike Ditka, however, remains undefeated.

     

    I had no idea until recently that John Lee Hooker was dead. That's just so wrong on so many levels.

     

    I can't decide if I'm more troubled by the many douchebags what should be dead that continue to walk the earth or the quality individuals that still had so much to offer who were taken from us too soon.

     

    I'd be all in for polygamy if it didn't entail getting, you know, married more than once.

     

    I recently had to explain to a 29 year old the difference between left and right. Jesus wept. I'd fire the kid if I didn't think he'd end up sucking dick for cigarette money within the day. See, I really DO have a conscience.

     

    I'd again like to reiterate the inhernt foolishness of referring to someone as a Discount in a public forum such as this. Kids, don't try this at home.

     

    As for everything else, I am totally in favor of kids trying it at home. I kinda hate children. And worship me some natural selection.

     

    Not sure what intelligent design is, however. Pretty sure I haven't seen much evidence of it in my day to day. For whatever that's worth.

     

    I miss the Kingdome.

     

    I am I am, I said. I'm not myself. I'm not dead and I'm not for sale.

     

    After all these years, I'm beginning to dislike working nights. Still hate daylight, though.

     

    I must've been the onliest one to buy a ticket for the Gin Blossoms show hereabouts Saturday past, as the Evil Empire Ticketmaster called me personally to inform me of its cancellation. Too bad, I'd have totally been down for some Rock Star Karaoke with the band. I do a mean Found About You, even if my Hey Jealousy still needs some work.

     

    This post seemed a lot better in its formative stages. And it was no great shakes then, either.

     

    I can't recall the names of all the women I've been inside. And no, it's been nowhere near enough. I can, however, recall all the unrequited lust. Again, not sure which troubles me more.

     

    I'm now officially willing to forgive Heath Ledger for Brokeback Mountain.

     

    I wonder why, at 2 this a.m. with nary a car on our stretch of road for maybe a mile, some jerkoff decided he had to cut me off. Can't decide whether I admire his style or wish him the death of 1000 cuts.

     

    I recently relost my innocence. I started out watching something called Strap-on Secretaries. Or some such. Sounds like a classic, n'est pas? That's what I thought, too. Starts out well, hot hoochie at a sex toy party. Then some chump rolls in, presumably a stripper; and I'm thinking 2 Girls For Every Boy (Brian Wilson=Genius). Uh, no. Reread the film's title. Throw out all expectations of a positive nature. And then folks wonder why I don't sleep very well. A lot, yes. Well, not so much.

     

    I still enjoy leaving a woman's house in the wee small hours whilst she slumbers. Even if it's, sigh, simply because I hate Rush Hour traffic and she has to get up for work. But I can pretend.

     

    So I'm watching I Spy. The T.V. series. And I'm downright floored by the fact that Bill Cosby actually used to, you know, not suck. In fact, he was kinda badass.

     

    Hannah Montana's cute and all, but her pal Lily's the one you've got to watch out for. She looks like trouble with a semen streaked grin.

     

    I've seen the Vanessa Hudgens pictures. No big. Still holding out for Ashley Tisdale. With a character's name like Sharpei, you just know she's ALL about the dogstyle.

    What? I've been up for 6.5 hours and it's 0815 MST. Sue me.

     

    How much pussy do you think Cole and Dylan Sprouse get? Do you suppose it's more than Aaron Carter?

     

    I still think Wilmer Valderrama's in league with Satan. Oh, no? Check his dating record. Look at the guy. E-mail me an apology.

     

    All I remember about Melrose Place is Jake. They should've just called the show Jake and Some Other People. 90210, however, was a way of life. Still is. Eagerly awaiting the spinoff.

     

    Last night I dreamed about sappers in the wire. Having never been in Vietnam, it troubles me greatly that I'm having flashbacks. I did, however, get jerked off by an Oriental chick once at a get together with some friends while we sat around watching the timeless Richard Grieco flick If Looks Could Kill. But do I get flashbacks about that? NOOOOO. Fucking subconscious will be the death of me yet.

     

    Off to troll the online dating sites for future victims. May Monday be kind to some of y'all.

    You know who you are. And so do I.

  • Vegas Redux

    To, you know, briefly summarize:

     

    - no, didn't get married again; or divorced, for that matter

     

    - tried absinthe at Luxor's centre bar, Liquidity: it's now available in the US and tastes slightly like sambuca or anisette whilst looking like Eno or Alka Seltzer mixed with water; something I can cross off My (revised) Bucket List:

    : meet Mandy Moore

    : kill someone, anyone

    : date a stripper

    : do porn

    : fuck a black chick

    : learn to play the guitar solo from Name by the Goo Goo Dolls

    : try Heroin

    : to quote the Beach Boys, 2 girls for every boy

    : sell my screenplay

     

    - got my 13th tat (infinity symbol, left forearm) at Hart & Huntington at my beloved The Palms; got taken on the cost, but, what the Hell, Vacation monies don't count- should've bargained, though

     

    - saw Get Smart for $10. at an evening show. Anne Hathaway is fucking awesome!

     

    - went to see The Veronicas (the reason for the entire trip) at the House of Blues; denied the promise of Kate Voegele (sigh), but discovered that Natasha Bedingfield can kinda wail and that I knew more of her songs than I'd suspected- plus, she's HOT. as were many of the jailbait in the audience at the show

     

    - learned that they really DO give out free passes to the clubs on weeknights, even though LV was a lot busier this week than I'm used to; got passes to Moon, LAX, and 2X to Coyote Ugly

     

    - the evening buffet at Luxor's More sucked...avoid

     

    - the evening buffet at The Palms was awesome: steak, crab legs, hot hostesses (very few unattractive employees at said casino); in fact, if you've never been, GO...it is, bar none, the hippest casino in LV, even if I couldn't get into the Playboy Club. not that I, like, tried to or anything

     

    - whilst watching hot bar folk dancing on top the bar, alls I could think about was ''when will they break out The Robot? can they be persuaded to do so?'' what can I say, I'm a smidge offbeat that way.

     

    - spent WAY too much, I can't gamble for shit. smoked WAY too much, too; I am, however, good at that

     

    - bought a stylin' and profilin'-type Perry Ellis sportcoat for 70% off

     

    - got a free Joker T-shirt at The Palms...saw the trailer for the new Batman flick, Heath Ledger (R.I.P.) really does light up the screen in this one

     

    - had a chick tell me to smile more (it happens more than you'd think) whilst I was traversing Fremont Street...sorry, honey, I ain't that kind of boy

     

    - had a sweet room at New York New York...above the rollercoaster, and all for only $10/night more than, say, Excalibur

     

    - realized the T Bay Rays might be for real after they swept Red Sox Nation

     

    - spent more time off LV Blvd. (the, you know, Strip) than on it; way less crowded with tourists and such

     

    - ran into one of my employees outside M&M's World, found out a much cuter one had been in town earlier in the week (breaks into an off-key chorus of It's A Small World After All); really should've gotten him and his BF to mule extra cartons of smokes acrost the border for me...alas, again, hindsight is 20/20

     

    - still haven't been to Rio or the Hard Rock Hotel, yet another reason to go back. SOON

     

    - lovin' (McLovin?) WGN America. now, If Only we got it hereabouts, not that I object to WGN Chicago

     

    - picked up something thoughtful for the geophysicist; TV DVD's, which I can keep, should things go south...contingency plans rule

     

    - caught Final Destination on the plane on my way to LV...you know, the one with the PLANE CRASH; good choice

     

    - saw a preview of the forthcoming sitcom Worst Week...sucked

     

    - the 7.5 with the premium tits in line at the checkout desk at NY NY who later ended up sitting across from me in the departure lounge at McCarren, thereby providing me ample op to, you know, stare at her rack and relax for the forthcoming flight; would've chalked it up to Fate if not for the 2 cockblocks (I'm guessing mom and aunt) accompanying her

     

    - came up with my not-so-lame version of the infamous Did It Hurt? approach

    : Did it hurt...getting beaten so hard with the ugly stick? (Only use on 9's or 10's, and you really need to be confident and in state to sell it. And, for the love of Mike, SMILE!)

     

    - the ginger syrup at (One Night in) Paris Hilton's fave Chinese eatery in LV, Chin Chin was well worth the very reasonable price of the breakfast buffet

     

    - still think Brett Favre will be coming out of retirement, likely not with the Pack, though

     

    - am I the only one what don't get the appeal of Cirque du Soleil? after listening to music from KA over and over for an hour whilst working a penny slot machine for points, I kinda wanted to claw out my own eyes with a shrimp fork

     

    - had a chick essentially leave her luggage with me at NY NY's bell desk...fucking nitwit just abandoned her bag without getting a claim check at the same time I was checking mine own bags in; if'n I hadn't been concerned about going over the monetary value I could claim upon reentry into Canada, I'd have kept her shit. oh well, probably just sex toys and frilly undergarments, anyway

     

    - 110 degrees Fahrenheit (40 Celsius) don't seem so bad when there's no humidity

     

    - Erin, the stewardess (whore of the sky? I'm not sure of the correct terminology) on my flight home was quite spectacular in a Jizz On My Glasses (if you don't know the site, look it up, it's worth the trip) kinda way

     

    Nope, still ain't seen it all. Hope to, someday, though. Enjoy your Independence Day weekend, y'all. I, my ownself am avoiding the Yokel Jamboree currently taking place here in Calgary.