Ok

By continuing your visit to this site, you accept the use of cookies. These ensure the smooth running of our services. Learn more.

  • Fucking Non-Smoking Fascist Cocksuckers

    Yeah, I like to sugarcoat things sometimes. It outrages me that I have to walk pretty much all the way around Calgary airport just to find somewhere I can smoke outfuckingside. Outside. Not in the middle of the concourse during Rush Hour. Outside at 2330. And I'm still not adjusting well to not being able to smoke inside McCarren airport, either.

    I smoke. I should be encouraged in that. Guided. It's Darwinian in its simplicity, the world's population is too high. And don't even get me started on the numbers that need to be culled.

    Anytime a restaurant uses the word culled in describing its cuisine, avoid said restaurant. Consider the knowledge increased, you're welcome.

     

    Only one week until the season premiere of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Set your sundials. Liked her home movie, though. Caught a little bit of the Ray J show the other night. Nope, still no idea who he is or what he does, other than that he has Brandy (is she still single?) for a sister and Kim Kardashian smokes his rope on the 'net.

    I liked Tough Love, though. Especially the chick that was dealing out a handjob under the table in the bar and telling her date that she sucks a mean dick. Now, that's a lady.

    Sport Science looks like a watchable reality show.

    I'd really enjoy seeing the top nine or however many on American Idol fight it out (as advertised in the commercials). To the death. Otherwise, don't bore me.

     

    I've been told that I need to work on my people skills and I can't, for the life of me, imagine why. What can I say, I can't relate to discounts and I don't have any premiums working for me.

    If anybody saw Marshall coaching kindergarten hoops on How I Met Your Mother, they know exactly how I'm expected to treat my minions. And nary an Allyson Hannigan to be found. Sigh.

     

    After watching some ESPN the other morning, I have to say that Hannah Storm's got her some perky little tits.

     

    Big ups to Houston Rockets Power Forward Carl Landry for returning to action so quickly after being, you know, SHOT. It's a good thing when a professional athlete actually manages to be a role model for the kids in these turbulent times.

     

    I recently read Ice T's book The Ice Opinion. Now, admittedly I don't really have time to read much anymore (work/life balance has a nice hollow ring to it, though, thanks for asking), but I quite enjoyed it. Learned some, too. Check it out if you're so inclined, as it's a relatively quick read. Perfect for on an airplane.

     

    I was pleasantly surprised to see that Michael Jordan somehow managed to squeak his way into the Basketball Hall of Fame.

    Sorry, they can't all be gold. Deal with it.

     

    Caught the remake of Race to Witch Mountain. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Here's what I'm thinking: Fuck...wait for it...you. Sure, it's a kids' movie, but I'll see anything with The Rock in it. And he'll always be The Rock to me. We have a special relationship, The Rock and I. The Rock was born 8 days before me in 1972. And, there but for the grace of god (or whoever) go I.

    Haven't heard anything about the revisioning of Star Trek, but it looks cool. Same with the new X-Men flick, about Wolverine's origin.

     

    Um, I had Oklahoma vs. North Carolina in my bracket, in case any of y'all were doubting my credentials.

     

    Dice was totally right, Obama SHOULD cultivate an afro and scare the living shit out of pretty much everyfuckingbody that opposes the U.S.

     

    I'm positive that anyone who objects to my negative attitude can, you know, blow me.

     

    So, I just got back from fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada, my home away from home. Some thoughts.

     

    I had hoped to be able to post me some pictures of an escort in various states of sucking my cock and masturbating and whatnot, but it didn't pan out. Now, don't get me wrong, the FB and I have some good times, but I really needed my dick sucked.

    Anyhoo, she opened me on the escalator out of Ballys at 0045 Tuesday morning and she'd do. Why go a-lookin' when opportunity had presented itself? Petite. Exotic. I needed my dick sucked. Y'all needed pictures.

    Unfortunately, she'd just been asked to leave the premises and, although she promised to meet me at my room, she never did. Sigh. Stood up by a prostitute. Yeah, I like that interpretation better than we just got our wires crossed and I was supposed to wait for her by the elevators or, perhaps, she simply wasn't able to get back into the hotel or forgot the room number or what have you. Nope, I WAS STOOD UP BY A PROSTITUTE!

    And deprived of the romance of checking a prospective partner for needle tracks. Sigh.

     

    I didn't find out about the Lee Ann Rimes/Kellie Pickler show on Saturday night until Sunday morning.

     

    Bally's charges $3/day for the use of its in room safes. Nope, will never be staying there again. Fucking place doesn't even have a buffet anymore. Or a concierge. Or a sportsbook. All are shared with Paris. Their buffet was all right, ambiance sucked, though.

     

    Happy to report that the Palms still doesn't like my money. And when did they start taking NBA bets there? Had my famous person moment there, too. Saw a roadie from Fall Out Boy at the buffet. Not as weak as it sounds, he got up onstage and sang the end of I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me.

    Good show. Well worth the trip. Merch was reasonably priced. Opening bands didn't suck. Someone that looked suspiciously like Ashlee Simpson came out to help out at the end of Sugar We're Going Down. Drummer totally vibes Animal from the Muppet Show. Sadly, they didn't play Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends, but I'll survive. I won 800 free Club Palms points simply by swiping my card. Good scenery, as always. Love me the Palms.

    Next trip, next month, I'll try one of their new absinthe cocktails, even though I don't drink anymore.

     

    Managed to catch the Seattle Mariners/Colorado Rockies exhibition tilt on Saturday. Got the sunburn to prove it. Found myself seated between a hardcore Rockies fan who was all serious about the preseason game and attempting to explain baseball to his GF and a premium transplanted Seattleite with big tits, a firm knowledge of baseball and a high tolerance for alcohol who was telling her current BF about how she used to bang Mariners' starting pitcher Ryan Rowland-Smith when she lived in Seattle. 6'3'', 240 pound Ryan Rowland-Smith who was, coincidentally, the starting pitcher for the M's that day. Good Times.

    Her BF handled it like a champ, though. Kept buying her beers. Went to the souvenir shop and bought her a shirt. Did I mention her ample rack? If so, it was worth mentioning more than once. And she tried to get me to sing along with her when Sweet Caroline played on the P.A. But I have too much respect for the musical stylings of Neil Diamond to perpetrate that sort of crime against his work.

    And it was cool when she used the phrase 'anal beads' to describe what some vendor chick was peddling. What can I say? She made an impression, hot and cool.

     

    I sat in the front row at an Andrew Dice Clay show next to a mail order bride, her old guy and their kinda fly daughter and emerged unscathed. Dice still rules. Another thing to cross off the bucket list.

    And, whilst waiting to get in, I stood in line beside a good looking young guy who was quoting passages of Bret Easton Ellis' timeless classic American Psycho to his buddy. I love Las Vegas.

    It does trouble me that Dice has fallen from selling out Madison Square Garden to playing some dingy little club at the Palazzo, but at least I got to see him. Sadly I didn't hear about his show in Calgary when he was here until the day of, and was working overnight. But there was scenery all over the attached restaurant, and the door chick was a very shapely young adorable.

     

    My first time at Planet Hollywood. I was at the Aladdin once. Quality clubgoers at Prive. Excellent buffet, and I got $5 off for joining their players' club. Three liquored-up blonde hookers at the slot machines, breastesses and ass hanging out everywhere. Pulled out $240 on a $5 bet on a dollar machine. The fine black chick at the Pleasure Pit, up on a table, shaking that ass.

     

    Sunday brunch at the Bellagio.

     

    Target. Pronounced Tar-zhay.

     

    All you can eat all day for $29.99 at the MGM Grand Buffet. And I did, even though I missed lunch.

     

    Double points at the Luxor.

     

    Going to Vegas with $450 in cash and coming back with $316, despite cabfare, gambling money, tips, an FOB T-Shirt, smokes, food at the airport and $5 to print my boarding pass; priceless.

     

    And I'm already planning out my trip next month, complete with hookers for my birthday. Soooooo, long story somewhat less so: donations will be gratefully accepted for my Get Christian an Interracial 3-Way for his Birthday Fund.

     

    Take care, y'all.