Sin City Part Deux

The Monte Carlo sucks. I repeat: The Monte Carlo Sucks. No coffee pot in the room. $10.99 per day to be on the internet. My cel phone has shit service. I was in the buffet having dinner - which is so lame to eat in the buffet alone for dinner, but I digress - and I got up for the second round of food (you can't go to a buffet and only make one pass, that's got to be a rule somewhere). While I am piling my plate full of crap surely to make me ill later on, my cel beeps to inform me that I have a new voice mail. WTF? Voice mail? The damn thing didn't even ring.

Sure enough, I sat down at my lonely table, and I had no service. 30 feet of distance and no service. I swear, they must put lead sheilding in some of the walls to keep people from using their cel phones. Deity forbid that anyone might make or receive a call that could interrupt their gambling for 5 minutes.

So, in my room, if I lean a chair against the window and sit in it, I may get uninterrupted cel service if I don't move a muscle. Otherwise, I only hear about 1/3 of the conversation. The rest is silence.

The good old days of free stuff and cheap food are so long gone, it isn't funny. There is no way in hell this room is worth over $100 per night, but I know that is what they are charging my company. For $100 a night, I should at least get a hand job from the cleaning staff.

But, see, I don't gamble - not in a casino anyway. Sure I gamble with gas prices from station to station. I gamble that the fish I buy at the grocery store won't give me food poisoning. But I don't gamble at the tables or machines in a casino. Not any more.

Think about it...A slot machine is like a giant piggy bank with all kinds of multimedia distractions. You keep putting your change in, and nothing comes out! Wow! Now, if only these things paid you back with compound interest, we'd all have it made. So, all electronic gambling machines are just different variations on a theme of piggy banks. Oh, sure, once in a while they get a little "full" and spit out a few coins or tokens to give you the faintest glimmer of hope. But, in the end, your pocket (or bucket) is dry and the machine won't even provide a satisfactory belch.

Now the tables.....that's real gambling. Taking chances on cards or dice. Man, that's not skill, that's just blind luck. I even saw a couple of drunks betting each other who could cross the street without getting hit by a cabbie. There's a bet I want to be in on.

But, hey, I am just one person in 10 brazillion who see casinos in this light. I guess some people just enjoy throwing their money away. Wish I could afford to do that (and not feel bad about it later).

So, yeah, I'm not really enjoying myself. I know this is supposed to be for work and all, but it's not like my off time is supposed to be dedicated to work as well.

So, what do I do? Blog.

Sin City

It's been 4 years since I lived in Las Vegas. Only 4 years. It may as well have been 40. Everything has changed. All the landmarks are gone, or grown over, or overshadowed by a new land mark. Oh, sure, many things are still in place, those things are just ones I have no interest in.

I damn near got lost trying to find the house I used to own. The 6-foot mesquite tree I planted in the back yard is now 30 feet tall. I wanted to check in on my former neighbors, but I have since forgotten their names and I didn't want to look stupid. Hell, I don't even know if they still live there.

Unfortunately, I am staying at my least part of Vegas - the Strip. When I lived here for 10 years, I avoided th Strip like the Black Plague. Of course, I always had to indulge every relative that would crawl out from under a rock to come visit me by dragging them through every buffet, casino, and relatively affordable show. But, for me personally, I stayed as far away as I could.

Why? Chaos. The strip feeds on chaos. That kind of energy in the air will suck the lifeforce and soul right out of you. I am just not meant to live here. How I survived it for 10 years is beyond my comprehension.

When I first saw the hotels/casinos (those two words are synonomous in Vegas) crest the horizon as I drove in, I was amazed at the intense haze that covered the city. I know from experience that most of that haze is dust from all the massive amounts of construction, but the other part is also exhaust from the thousands of cars.

Vegas' population swelled past 1 million before I left. I can only guess what it is now. Maybe 1.5 million? Maybe 2? All I know is that the streets are dog-eat-dog and the cabbies are wolves in waiting for a weak motorist or pedestrian.

If you like city light views, Vegas boasts one of the most glamorous. From Henderson, looking Northwest, the view is a spectacular array of glitz and color. I always preferred stars myself, especially the Plaides, but I am a simpler person.

The drive in was actually quite pleasant. It took me less time than I expected, regardless of all the road destruction and constant observance of the posted speed limit. (My days of driving like a bat out of hell are long gone - unless it is to a hospital)

I was slightly dissheveled when I arrived, so I quickly made haste to my room to wipe the shine off my face. And then, a taste of heaven: I had my first In'n'Out burger in 4 years. It's good that some things don't change.

I tried calling some old friends. One was permanently indisposed and I will not get to see him on this journey. A second has agreed to meet me on my last night here. A third has not yet returned my call, and, finally, my former colleagues have agreed to have lunch with me on Thrusday.

Friday, I return home. Maybe to stay, or maybe not. A phone call tomorrow morning may change my future. It may not. These uncertainties have lead me to another bottle of Baileys for this evening. I have also acquired a small bottle of Bombay just in case the Bailieys doesn't have enough kick to it. It really doesn't, but I enjoy the hell out of drinking it.

I have a few pictures of the strip at night from my hotel room window. Maybe I will complement them with some daytime photos as well.

Then again, maybe not.

This Just Makes Me Sick

According to cnn.com:

"A man who sought safety from Hurricane Katrina in Tennessee was gunned down in the street and died, possibly during a robbery of his Red Cross relief money."

Can you fucking believe this shit? I really do try to remain optimistic most of the time. But it's shit like this that just makes me want to join a militia in Montana and bury myself in a cave with a bazooka.

(Insert your favorite deity name here) forbid that we actually do help these people and the next batch of disaster victims from Rita. At this rate, why bother? Why not just turn our heads and say, "Well, at least it isn't me."

I hope the bastard that shot him buys some tainted smack and fries his brain on an overdose while blowing a mutant sheep infected with syphilis and getting reamed in the ass by a really pissed off ex-con.

Mmm-kay pumpkin?

Only In Holland

1916

16 years old when I went to war
To fight for a land fit for heroes
God on my side and a gun in my hand
Counting my days down to zero.
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died
And I never did get any older.
But I knew at the time
That a year in the line
Is a long enough life for a soldier.
We all volunteered,
And we wrote down our names
And we added two years to our ages.
Eager for life and ahead of the game
Ready for history's pages
And we fought and we brawled
And we whored 'til we stood
Ten thousand shoulder to shoulder.
A thirst for the Hun,
We were food for the gun,
And that's what you are when you're soldiers.
I heard my friend cry
And he sank to his knees
Coughing blood as he screamed for his mother.
And I fell by his side and that's how we died
Clinging like kids to each other.
And I lay in the mud and the guts and the blood
And I wept as his body grew colder.
And I called for my mother and she never came,
Though it wasn't my fault and I wasn't to blame.
The day not half over and ten thousand slain,
And now there's nobody remembers our names.
And that's how it is for a soldier.

In case you aren't familiar, that's Motorhead.

Good Ol' Hump Day

It was a rather interesting day. I had the typical daily stress of catching up and handling each new emergency as it arose. About 4:30, I felt this wave in my chest. I wasn't under any particularly large amount of stress at the time. Then I noticed my hands were tingling. It became a little difficult to breathe - in that I kept having to remind myself to breathe. My hair tingled like I had the flu. I decided to step outside and get some fresh air. Everything looked and felt so surreal. It's like I wasn't really there.

I went back upstairs to my cubicle and laid on the floor. I tried to stretch and breathe deeply. It got worse, and I could feel my pulse fading. I leapt back to my feet - how I didn't collapse I still have no idea. I set my computers to auto-pilot and I drove myself to the emergency room.

I made it to the front desk with little trouble. I explained myself as best as I could. My vitals were checked and I was admitted to the ER for treatment. A nurse came along and re-checked my vitals, I explained myself once again. The nurse left and shortly, a real doctor appeared. Once again, I repeated my tale once more. I was examined, which mainly consisted of listening to my heart while I breathed deeply.

After all was said and done, it was concluded that I had a panic attack. I have had one before where I landed in an ER. This one seemed different, maybe because it was ten years later. The doc gave me an Ativan and had an EKG run just to be sure. All perfect results. After waiting what seemed like an eternity, I was released and given a prescription for more Ativan - just in case I have another episode.

Great. I feel foolish. But then, I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry. I just don't understand why I had the attack at all. I wasn't feeling anxious or stressed out at the moment it began.

So, now I am chasing my Ativan with Bailey's Irish Cream. I feel fuckin' great. All my ex's could come to me right now and chew me up and spit me out, and it wouldn't phase me.

Don't think I will be doing much else for the rest of the night.

I Actually Know People Like This

I was sitting at the counter in a diner recently, next to a blonde woman who was engrossed in reading her newspaper. I noticed one of the headlines that blared: "12 Brazilian Soldiers Killed." I could see she shook her head at the sad news as she read the article. Then suddenly, she turned toward me and asked, "How many is a brazilian?"

************

I promised myself that I wouldn't continue to rag on the Annoying Bitch I Work With, but I seem to be really good at breaking promises to myself lately.

AB is training her replacement - but I already mentioned that her replacement isn't much better than her. What's even sadder is that AB is training El Blimpo to be just as annoying as herself. I have been swamped heavily since I returned from vacation, and I have only this week to catch up on all my emergency ad hoc requests before I am gone all next week again for a conference.

But, that doesn't stop AB from nudging EB to nag me about something I just don't have time to get to (nor is it really that important).

I am considering purchasing a real chalkboard to replace my eraserboard. Then, everytime I hear either AB or EB speak, cough, sigh, or breathe, I will drag a series of metal files across the chalkboard, sending screaches of agony to their cubicles. Maybe I can lace all their chewing gum with shreds of aluminum foil. Better yet, I will inject their little bottles of lotion with itching powder and replace their Kleenex with sandpaper.

I'm really not a mean and twisted person. And I will kill anyone by slow torture who says otherwise.

Season Finale

Regardless of my recent back pain, I spent the weekend on a final camping trip. Typically I refrain from using established campsites because I go to the mountains to get away from people, not camp next to them and their stereos, generators, and screaming children. However, this trip was spent in a fairly uncrowded campground. It happened to be located next to my most fruitful fishing lake, so it had its purpose.

Saturday, the fishing was just a tease. I got cleaned every time I cast my line into the water, but never hooked a single trout. Sunday, I couldn't stop bringing them to shore. I spent 7 hours fishing Saturday and only 3.5 on Sunday. Go figure.

Of course, going back to work today sucked. I was slammed with emergency requests one right after the other. To top all that off, it was my turn to prepare for another cellmates birthday tomorrow. This meant I had to stay late to decorate a cubicle. Not my idea of fun, but someone else did it for me a couple of weeks ago, so I was obligated.

When I finally got home, I had to bake (yes bake) the celebratory offering. I planned to make my infamous Oreo cheesecake. Unfortunately, I lost my recipe. Hey, no problem, I'll just look it up on the 'net. Yep, several versions found. I snagged the "official" recipe from the Kraft site and began my work.

Ok, when it comes to cooking, there are many times I like shortcuts. Cheesecake is one of those times. I usually buy the prepared graham cracker crusts and just fill them with the appropriate mixture and bake away. I did this tonight. Unfortunately, the batter I prepared was more than enough for 4 cheesecakes. I should have looked at the recipe a little more closely....

So, I filled 2 pre-made crusts, baked those, and then made a third crust from scratch and baked a third Oreo cheesecake. I like the stuff, but not that much. I am already nauseated from looking at the batter, and I can't even fathom eating that crap tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, etc. I mean, I like chocolate in small doses, but this is overkill.

Oh yeah, I have to attempt to get up earlier tomorrow, too, so I can get the cakes (yes, cakes) to work and in the fridge and finish passing around the birthday card for others to sign. I am already so exhausted I could just puke.

That pretty much sums up the end of summer for me. My second favorite season come to a close and all I have to show for it is 3 fucking Oreo cheesecakes that I don't even have an appetite for.

I think I'll take a muscle relaxor and call it a night.

Just When I Was About to Lose Hope

A good friend of mine sent me this photo of how GW is helping out in New Orleans.

Exclusive!

Britney and her new baby!

Holy Mutant Clones

Is it just me, or is Pam Anderson, Lee, whatever the hell her name is now, starting to look a LOT like Zsa Zsa Gabor???

Rock & Roll Weekend

Sammy Hagar wrote a song called "Rock And Roll Weekend" many many moons ago. Unfortunately, none of his lyrics apply to the weekend I had, but the title seemed appropriate.

So, there was this "major" concert event. For where I live, it definitely was major. For other, real cities across our nation, it probably wouldn't be given such high regard, but here it was a very big deal.

In all honesty, it was a pretty big deal for myself. Friday's venue included Loverboy, Cheap Trick, and Alice Cooper. I remembered all of Loverboy's and Cheap Trick's songs, and screamed along with each one of them. I knew most of Alice Cooper's material, but not well enough to shred my vocal chords along with him. Friday was a rare occurance for myself. I rarely partake in alcoholic beverages, but I blew $100 in concert trimmings and drank myself into a stupor. Fortunately, I am smart enough to know what my limits are, and actually remember the entire evening - even the evil thoughts I had about several young, scantilly clad females.

Cheap Trick had some technical difficulties and Robin Zander made it very apparent that he wasn't pleased. He walked off the stage twice before they ended their all-too-short set. That was a bit of a letdown to me, but I still enjoyed every beat of their list.

Alice played the longest of all - and loudest. He pulled out every trick he used to have - the boa, the guillotine, costume changes between every other song. He kicked some serious rock ass. Fortunately, I had a designated driver, and I made it home safely.

Saturday was sort of a whim. Initially, I did not have a ticket for both days, but I was able to score a free ticket for Saturday's show. I missed Edgar Winter (wasn't disappointed), but did make it in time for Little River Band, Uncle Kracker, Foreigner, and Styx. Originally Lynard Skynard was supposed to perform last, but Styx replaced them at the last minute.

I have to admit that LRB surprised me. They are not my style at all, but they performed very well and had a fantastic stage presence - very laid back.

Uncle Kracker also impressed me. Again, not my style but they were so damn cool on stage, you couldn't help but like them.

Foreigner was a tremendous surprise. Only Mick Jones is the remaining original member, but the rest of the replacements made up for where original band members left off. They truly rocked their asses off and played every Foreigner tune I liked. Can't beat that.

Now I am sure I will receive several hate comments for this, but I have never been a Styx fan. I don't know why, but their music just never tripped my trigger. I can appreciate the talent, no doubt there, but the sound just never appealed to me. Regardless, these guys really put the final touch on Saturday's show. Even though they couldn't play everyone else's favorite Styx song, they still managed to squeeze out a barage of memories. They were definitely a class act.

Out of all, though, I think I was the most impressed with the audience. Every age category was represented, as well as many different "handicaps." It was more like going to a carnival than to a concert. I saw toddlers, teens, 20-somethings, 30-, 40-, 50-somethings and octogenerians. Strange brew...

Of course, all the food and beverages were insanely overpriced. I am just glad I remained sober Saturday - I don't think my bank account could have handled another day and night of debauchery.

I was reminded of something Friday. No matter how smashed you are (or sober), there just isn't any way you can look at a female you are talking with and tell her how much you would like to have her sit on your face. It just doesn't happen - well, not without a grand slam to the chops. Fortunately for me, I didn't have to be reminded with a slap - common sense kicked in.

Yeah.....long live rock and roll....

I think I am still living, therefore I am...or not

13 1/2 hours of driving and I am finally home. Unfortunately, I am fairly comatose, so I am fairly certain that this post will be nothing greater than the drool oozing from my lips as I attempt to type this.

My visit with my mother was fantastic. Neither of us has spent that much time just doing things together. I am saddened only slightly that it has taken 41 years for us to do so. I cooked a dish my grandmother used to make for us with my mother. She hadn't had it since before her mother passed away in 1998, and she couldn't even remember how long before that.

She took me shopping for my birthday (belated) and we must have hit the motherload of all sales. I now know where I inherited my passion for shopping. I also noted that I inherited my mother's feet and a few other traits that I blamed on self abuse (no, not masturbation - hell that cures a lot of things).

We even found time to sit down and enjoy a couple of movies together. I wish I had spent more times with my mother like this last week during other parts of my life. My mother is a cool lady, and I love her. Yes, I have told her so - many times. But, don't get any ideas that this makes me a "mama's boy." I'll kick yer ass for that. (Yeah, right)

Now, I need to pass out. I think the ground has finally stopped moving.

I Stand Corrected

I am not too big-headed (or pig-headed as the case may be) to admit it when I find out I am wrong.

Quoting MSNBC:
"The [gas price] increases followed price spikes on wholesale and futures markets Tuesday and Wednesday after the hurricane knocked off-line refineries and pipeline links along the Gulf Coast that provide about a third of the country's gasoline supplies. The good news? Analysts expect that prices will ease once supplies are restored."

I do think it's a bit ironic that this all happened around a holiday, but that is just the skeptic in me.

On a side note, my sideline career as a porn star is doing great. Uh, yeah....right...