Sinergy

ADDENDUM: Aaron's Photobucket is the hookup. Pictures AND words; will technology never cease?
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
It's the franchise, boy, I'm shinin' now...
--John Cena, "The Time Is Now"

It's been a while since I sat in this chair, in a blacked out room where this monitor I'm seeing my words on is the only light on in the joint. I feel oddly sleepy, and my body is more sore than anybody who believed Vince wasn't going to hold a grudge over Matt's head like the Sword of Damocles. Just the effort of leaning makes me groan out loud. The next couple weeks are going to be enamel-to-teeth tight.

But would I do it all again?

I better go back to the beginning and find out.

FRIDAY
If God is a DJ, life is a dance floor...
--Pink, "God Is A DJ"

So it's Friday afternoon. I'm buzzing hard and I haven't touched a drop of the sauce in days. My birthday is my birthday, and that's all well and good. Christmas lost its cache with me some years ago. I haven't been to Sin City in 10 years and not since I was legal. The plan is simple and yet faced with a deluge of possible problems: I want to make this the most fun I have all year. The. End.

Going into this alone would obviously leave me dead within hours, so along with are two of my best friends and better angels, Aaron & Ivan. I am relying on them to save me from myself when such a time comes. Whole paycheck out, off to the airport, plane go up, plane land safe.

Staying in the MGM Grand, and it took longer to cover from McCarron to there to check in. Friday traffic is bad everywhere; cabbies upping their fares with alleged shortcuts will make it worse, though I do amuse him with a couple "Viva Las Vegas" couplets and some of "Danke Shoen". We get asked for the first time if we have any reason for being here: 'cause Expedia's the hookup, holla if ya hear me. The MGM Grand is a class act, and if you think it's unusual I used the term class act, we pass a nice sized black and white picture of the Chairman of the Board Frankie S himself as we come to and from the escalators. Inside, Sofia Loren in her heyday and Bela Lugosi. Two beds, working TV, a completely out-of-place Bible, and a good view of the southernmost tip of the Strip. Excalibur, New Yorkx2, Rio in the distance and the Palms. None of these things capture our attention as much as the bathroom--not just because we're boys. Marble floors. Marble. I'm literally afraid to drip on the thing, and then something new captures our attention. The wall of the shower is marble except for this one square that has a big giant ugly metal bar in the middle. Why the fuck is this thing here--

--and that's when you realize your profanity's answered your question. It is easily conceivable, if one were of such a mind and so fortunate, that they could have their paramour hang on to the bar while they engage in intercourse under the shower.

The MGM Grand's thought of everything!

Bags handled, ESPN Zone for dinner (wasn't horrible, wasn't spectacular, no, Craig Kilborn was not my bartender), and back to the room.

I had intended to go to Studio 54 because I'm me and me not going to one of the best clubs in the world is like expecting mercy from a hungry pit bull while you hold a pack of ground meat. What surprises me is that Aaron & Ivan are also in; Ivan's virtual state of marriage and Aaron's almost-Footlooseian refusal to dance keeps me from hanging out with them a lot when it comes to the club. But we all change--I actually iron for the first time, no less. Downstairs, through the lobby.

No line.

No cover. (Remember that later.)

Was I suspicious? God, yes. Was I going to get all "Hey, wouldn't you rather take my money?"

...

Anyway, 54's nice. Plenty of disco retro sweetness early in the evening. Two-leveled, and plenty of seats, bars, and space. The dance floor's on the bottom floor and you almost walk right into it when you enter. It gets proceedingly packed. They head upstairs and why yes somehow I have found myself in the middle of the dance floor around a ludicrously hot blonde and some of her friends. They cheer me on from upstairs. People rappel from the upper level down, hanging from moons and a man and a woman doing a spectacular act with chains while hanging from the ceiling. Glitter falls seemingly on the hour. There's some acrobatics I capture on Natalie, and the thump keeps thumping.

And around 1, right as Ivan & Aaron remove themselves from the proceedings (AB, I was trying to get the blonde for you, I swear on a stack of Alba mags), 54 goes from the Best Club I've Ever Been In to The Best Club I've Ever Been In, Period, Underline, Exclamation Fucking Point!

DJ P does this. He opens for Snoop Dogg on Saturday but since that's in the evening and this is just barely morning he decides he'd rather open up a spot in my heart, my ears, and my head for the rest of the decade.

He played "Tipsy". Over Spandau Ballet's "True."

He played "Shout". Yes, by Tears For Fears. But Biggie's "Hypnotize" in the Brit's place.

He played "Africa". Yes, by Toto. Nobody moved. He put "Change The Game" over it.

He played "Jack And Diane". Except with the lyrics to "Planet Rock".

He played, in sequential order--prepare yourself--"Whole Lotta Love", "Back In Black" interspliced with "99 Problems", "Crazy Train", and "Let's Go".

That wasn't the highlight of the night. No, really.

The backbeat of "Eye Of The Tiger"...with the words for "Hollaback Girl".

I love all music, and I only stop for drinks and cuties. But on four seperate occassions when only the luckiest DJs get one, I actually stop and look at the booth. Is this happening? Am I actually listening to "Sad But True" with "In Da Club"? Is this only the second time in my short life, and the first back-to-front, that the Beastie's "Hey Ladies" comingles with "Ladies Night" by Kool and the Gang?

Needless to say, his shit is harder to get than Howard Hughes in daylight. That's why they've invented eBay. Find something, buy it, clear your schedule and listen. I--me--do not have the words to describe this. It was a mindfuck of the highest order, and if it'd been a concert it would be brawling with A Tribe Called Quest from last year for #1. Without speech.

That takes me to about 3 a.m., because that's as much as I can handle without my heart exploding. I find out the guys are still up and we hit the Strip. It's nice and cold, by which I mean "about 80 but the warm breeze is gone". We wander around aimlessly, because this is what happens when guys don't have rules. We get all the way up to the Wynn and tire out. We want to take the tram back. Got to wait until 6. It's 5:15. My offhand "we should stay up to see the sun rise" comment is up there with me taunting Suge Knight at this point. We can still bisect some of the distance and go to Bally's to catch the monorail.

We make it.

5:40.

Monrail begins operations at 7.

So it is. We make the 2...5...19...274 mile walk back to the MGM Grand as the sun breaks through, and it's really a sight to see other than the fact we're all about to fall over and die. We cap off at the Walgreen's down the block: I get a chocolate iced cream filled and a chocomilk.

Bed time is 6:45.

SATURDAY
Been dazed and confused for so long, it ain't true...
--Led Zeppelin, "Dazed And Confused"

As to be expected when one goes to sleep around 7 in the morning, it makes you sort of want to stay passed the fuck out until about the crack of 3.

We end up having breakfast around 5.

That sentence is never, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eVER going to get old. Everything's a little off in the in-between time after that and going back to MGM, because I order a yard-long margarita. Cost less than 3 beers in the club, that's for sure. I drink contentedly, as more and more tequila gets in the closer I get to the bottom.

There's such a severe disorientation when you wake up smack dab in the middle of the day, especially given the nights that we had. That and the fact my blood type switches over to Sauza. Even at dinner, I have to have it between my legs and slurp it up (filth!) because to put it on the table keeps me from drinking it. I debate whether I want to go to Rain or not (I choose 54 again after the Mother-of-Holy-Fuck that'd happened) and the guys decide to go chop it up at the poker tables. The same poker tables right across from Studio 54.

It's night and day.

The line goes out, down to the entrance doors, and the same way in reverse on the other side of the doors up almost to the poker tables. Paid cover, waited an hour. A lot of the same music from last night. I move towards the floor. I run into a hot brunette named Jen, who introduces me to her friends Portia and Mona. It's going pretty well: we're all dancing and not really self-conscious, just out having fun and marvelling at the floor show when it happens. The music switches into the late 80s and early 90s groove, and into "Everybody Dance Now".

Everybody does. I wait and watch. And then I jump in with the Running Man.

Why? Because everybody loves the Running Man. Just typing Running Man makes me smile.

And it appears this is the move that tips the evening in my favor, as we all decide to break. They go upstairs, I hit the bathroom and follow them up after that drink in hand. Yes, I have heard I'm a good dancer. Yes, I came alone--my friends went to the poker tables. You're from San Diego, too? Get the fuck outta here! Everybody drinks. I hang out with them (and get hit on by a guy, but we won't count that) for the rest of the night, and hand them VIP passes to Tabu, another ultra lounge in the MGM grand on my way out around 3:30. (Luckily enough with the long wait in line, I got some for us guys too.) Inexplicably, I'm starting to crash, and the memories of the Strip Death March that was getting underway a day ago aren't far off.

Beginning to sober up, but upbeat, I close out a 12-hour day.

SUNDAY
They got that Southern cookin' that got them fellas lookin'...
--Ciara, "Oh"

We gon to elope to Mexico
Called up my mama said "I'm in love with this stripper, yo"...
--Wyclef, "Perfect Gentlemen"


Up around 1 this time around, and watch the Chargers actually slap around the Rams for a little bit. Like Las Vegas wanted to adopt the Cardinals as their team; nobody likes the Cardinals before this year maybe.

Off to Denny's, which takes too goddamn long to serve us and I skip out on getting an Oreo sundae I'm so disgusted. We had planned to go to the Hard Rock pool (should've, as it turned out, but hours earlier) but since it's so far off the path, we opt to hit our pool.

Pleasantly, it's only 3½ deep so I can't drown to death. I grab an inner tube and swim around the lagoon area. The MGM pool is like a bootleg Grotto and there are a few cute girls around, but as I feel both heated and cooled, the words of a wise Virginian come to mind: celebrate we will, 'cause life is short but sweet for certain. Sure, I can't always keep myself from running into some of the other occupants or hitting the walls, and I don't have a swimming technique down per se, but it just felt perfect. It was almost as relaxing as the Yard-Long Liver Destroyer Saturday, and sort of helped me work off the excess I'd built up. That's my diet plan: eat what you want, then dance for long periods of time like there's nobody watching.

Earlier on, Ivan had beaten us up to the punch and since he was doing well last night went back down to the poker room. While we were at the pool he chilled at the room, and he decides to head back down after I shower. I don't have a set plan because I'm thinking about Tabu later. Aaron's been scared off, and the buy-ins are too much for me with what I have planned for later on, so I'm out. We decide we'll root Ivan on, as I yell out "Terible! Terible!" and give off a mariachi yell. At least twice, then I figure between him texting us the pit bosses might think we're telling him his cards are terrible instead of referencing one of his poker nicknames and run the lot of us. Ivan gets a couple hands of luck but otherwise his small-stackedness keeps him from comping us all to Emeril's.

We go to Quizno's and mock Ivan for getting wheat bread that turns out darker than I am, and sure enough he starts feeling ill within half an hour. I get Amanda on the phone, who is staying at the MGM this weekend to come. How fortuitous for the both of us, as I'm almost positive I would've impregnated her at some point if we'd been in the same Vegas hotel at the same time. As Aaron & I bicker about which one of us would be making the drunken mistake (and I mean that in the best way possible, Amanda!) Ivan cops out, and we go downstairs. It's about 10:30 because we stop to watch the end of My Cousin Vinny. I'd told Jen & Mona around 10 to 10:30.

We wait.

More waiting.

That guy with a goatee--that's Tom Jones!

WHO!?

TOM JONES!?

WHO!?

Damn it, I just don't care who it is as long as the last name is Jones, do I? Anyway, we wait an hour and they don't show up.

It is at this moment I'd like to thank them.

Because Aaron's Plan B--taken from some sarcastic comments I'd made earlier in the week--is "What better day than Sunday to hit a strip club?" We taunt Ivan from downstairs until he coalesces to come down.

Sadly for us, or luckily depending on how hard we want to chase a life history of heart problems, we have to ditch our cameras.

Outside. We can take a cab.

Or, for $20, we can take a limo.

So, we're riding along in the limo when the driver mentions that despite what the doorguy said, we're going to Sapphire's.

Which, it should be noted on my taxes next year, is a restaurant. I have the receipts and the satisfied meal feeling and everything.

"Yeah," she says through the partition, "it's the biggest strip club in the world."

I make the Chandler Bing this-cannot-be face. And yes...

"In the world?"

"In the world."

We get there--by the way, a stone's throw behind Circus Circus...why?....why!?-- and I'm thinking I have exactly enough for a round of fun. We get a table about a row away from the floor and begin to sit down. We all get non-alcoholic beverages on the round I end up buying (Aaron a teetotaler, Ivan abstaining).

This is the point where you want to get the squeamish and holy out of the room and onto a lesser blog. G'head.


So a stripper sidles up to me (sidles, nice) and starts talking to me. But I have had this dream in mind since the trip first took birth and it's this: Aaron gets a lapdance before I do anything. Why? Because a lot of it's the fact he's my friend, and the rest of it is he's just a big nice guy and the dichotomy of suddenly having a woman getting naked on his person would just amuse me too much to not watch. Sure enough, as I talk, he comes back, and the cute black girl starts on him. Then a brunette starts on me.

The affirmative action programs get more strenuous by the day.

We get our lapdances and it's pretty good--well, Aaron didn't like his so much but I think what happened next and the fact it just sprung on him when he got out of the bathroom about 10 minutes into the trip sort of has coloured his view. I was perfectly satisified.

And about broke.

But that all flies out the window, along with the concept of linear time as it relates to a person having a past and a future, when Kelli (I changed that to an I so as to disguise her real name) alights next to us.

It must be said partially in vain and partially to explain that our table combined is younger than some of the guys in there. A lot of the old guys are up by the stage, and we're sort of lying back in the cut, obviously appreciative but not ostentacious. We're all pretty-decent looking, with the exception of me--that's right, I said it, I'm hotter than the Strip at 3 p.m. So in retrospect it seems a pretty obvious choice, but at the time we didn't realize we were about to make ourselves a new friend.

Figuring with the sort of live-one-die-fast-leave-a-beautiful-highly-marketable-corpse mentality I usually have steroided up by the fact I'm in Vegas, cream and cleared by me being in the World's Largest Strip Club, I decide we only have one chance to use the psuedonyms we've been working on all week. So I become Ron Mexico, Ivan turns into Raoul, and Aaron into...I want to say Steve. We all hail from San Obispo as part of a church group here to examine the level of depravity in such a house of sin.

Stripper: "Getting a lapdance isn't a sin."
Me: "Let us pray."

But we end up talking and talking, and eventually I end up going with our real names and our real story. I just wanted to be somebody else for a while. And that's about when it happens. We're sitting there talking about her being from Georgia, and me having relations with Georgia Tech connections, and up comes the waitress. Should I keep my tab open and throw a lapdance on there?

Sure.

But I have to be in for $60. Three lapdances. Way over budget. I know this.

I mean, I have a mid-140s I.Q.! I cook, I write so well I've won awards, I speak some Spanish, I know a little something about the power and the struggle and the love and the glory that is American history. I'm a connoisseur of fine music and books.

But I look at Kelli with the I and I can't see the future, hard. I have a dim sense of overage charges and cell bills. But so very dim. Kelli's really pretty; I think if I'm remembering earlier correctly Aaron said she had a Cameron Diazy thing going on. I'm sure if not, he'll correct me.

What happens?

Three guys. Three lapdances.

You only live once, I say to myself.

Things degenerate quickly and markedly from that, as Ivan and I have started drinking. I, being me, have decided things will go Aaron-Ivan-me lapdance wise. A greedier man would've gotten his first; a smarter man knows he gets the best stuff last. Aaron somehow gets the "Sexual Healing" update which is quite nice, as Marvin would've made me cry and/or try to elope. Ivan gets his dance and I watch absent-mindedly diverting between that and the stage. You have to keep in mind, this is why I didn't party weeks beforehand--the sense of delayed gratification to prolong the actual moment. You can't appreciate a good meal unless you've been starving, et al.

I got "American Idiot", incongrously. (We actually heard "Beverly Hills", "Du Hast" (no really), and "D'Yer Maker earlier.)

Here are things I thought about:
Baseball
Football
Chewbacca
Barney
London bombings
9/11

It was the most surreal moment of my life. I felt like I was living it and somehow watching it on HBO. What to say? What to do? How much can I touch (damn this town and the no-touch rule)? Wow, it's dark in here. I'll take it. How much is the rent? I'm not drooling on them, am I? Should I have quit smiling when she shoved me in there? Should I be trying conversation? Shouldn't I've taken Chris Elliot's advice and flogged the dolphin before this? Dear holy GOD, how is she that flexible?!

She gets her legs around her head. And my head. She wasn't facing me.

And I being me, choose this moment to snake my hand through and grab my Heineken and have a pull. THERE'S your fucking commercial, you crazy Dutch bastards.

So Kelli laughs and once she's done takes the one empty seat at the table as we wait for my card to come back. We're being oddly witty and funny, I think mostly to detract from the fact that you could've fried an egg off our heads. I know this is going to be my Most Rock Star Moment of the year. It's all going according to plan. So we actually talk about Ivan's relationship and how it shouldn't be affected by this, how hip-hop makes better stripping music (yes, that was my end of the conversation), how good she smells, her remarkable boob job (seriously, one of the best I've ever seen, would've raised pre-flop they were real...) and then she drops a new nickname on Ivan when I admit I wasn't sure how much grazing my hand could do:

Kelli: I mean, he tweaked my nipples hard before I started on you...
Me (turning to Ivan, aghast): You did WHAT?!

Now, I did catch a little bit of it at the end. I had made a "tuning in the station" joke that she laughed at right away, but I had no idea that the better angels of my nature could in fact be corrupted by my nature.

I think his stomach's all right now.

Eventually, we get her her money. And then Ivan pulls out his credit card. Kelli goes for another round. This is a one of the rare sequels that doesn't suck. I was hoping for a good song, and I get "Don't Ya". She loves it too.

These pants are going into a ziplock bag.

This shirt is going into a ziplock bag.

We're both singing along. In response to the chorus, before I can even stop myself (let's blame the firewater), I say I don't have a girlfriend. But when she looks up at me and says "Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?" my response is an immediate, heartfelt "GOD, yes."

And for being a good boy, it's Aaron who buys the next round.

It's this damn town, it gets e v e r y b o d y.

I can no longer listen to "Oh" without taking me to a special place smelling of citrus and triple-ply soft to the touch, but it's a tradeoff I'll suffer through. We talk a bit about Ciara and I throw down the Atlanta sign. "Georgia peaches", she says.

Georgia peaches.

Me: Before you start, I'd just like to say something. I'm RICK JAMES, BITCH! All right, go ahead.
Kelli (laughing): I love that sketch! Just don't do anything to mess up our couch.
Ivan (drunk, immediately): FUCK yo couch, nigga!

This is what I've learned with this weekend:
1) Therapy is bullshit. A yard of tequila? A good swim in the light of day? A lapdance? If it doesn't make you feel a little bit better about yourself when they're done, you might as well off yourself. Worse comes to worse, take 3 lapdances and call me in the morning.
2) I want Kelli, but in someone else's body with the same range of flexibility. And isn't that what I should want, a girl I can talk hip-hop to who's titties I can play with? Someone I can goof around with and slap her ass like I've caught her stealing from the cookie jar?

Oh, the last part: she kept shaking it at me. I didn't want to hurt her after what Ivan did, I knew her boobs were sensitive. And there are the peaches, begging to be sampled. What am I supposed to do, deny her a little fun with work? Out of the corner of my eye during the "Stairway" solo I find Aaron looking at me as if he's never seen me before.

After my crisis of faith, I found/find myself believing heaven is a state of mind rather than a final destination. And all I know is listening to Jazze pop the bottles 'cause we've got another hit, hit, hit as I swatted Kelli's ass and she salt shakered that baby at me, surrounded by my friends--that, to me, was heaven.

But we have to check out at 11. And it's 20 to 3.

Two and a half hours, gone.

I mention that if we don't leave here now, we're never going to get out. That's bad somehow, I just don't know how. My card gets eaten by the system or just says "Goddamnit, enough!" and Aaron covers my tab and we stagger out into the night.

Sleep didn't come easily. Just kept thinking about it. Just kept thinking about it.

This morning...yesterday morning at the checkout. No Spectravision. No movies. No room service. No extra charges.

The woman behind the counter says "You didn't do anything!"

And I just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

4-Card Straight and Pinchy: we're taking Amanda to see Kelli next year.

Vegas, baby?

Damn right, Vegas, baby.

This post brought to you BAH: "Cannonball" by the Breeders

KWBR: the Playlist

ROADHOUSE BLUES:
"We Belong Together (remix)" (7)
"BYOB" (9)
"Best Of You" (10)
"Hollaback Girl" (13)

15) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (14)
14) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (12)
13) Slim Thug feat. Pharrell, "I Ain't Heard Of That" (debut)
12) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (11)
11) Beck, "Girl" (6)

10) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (debut)
09) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (15)*
08) David Banner, "Play" (debut)
07) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (8)*
06) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (3)

05) Common, "Go" (5)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (4)*

03) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (debut)

02) Pussycat Girls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (2)*

01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [2m]

This post brought to you BAH:
Hello, it's me
I'm not at home
If you'd like to reach me
Leave me alone
--"A Change Would Do You Good", Sheryl Crow

"Have You Ever Held A Man's Life In Your Hands?"

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Jessica And The Albaettes: August '05

IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME. I LOVE YOU, BUT I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU. OH, THIS IS SO HARD...:
Kate Beckinsale (37), Christina Milian (38--Nick Cannon? Nick Cannon? Bitch, why don't you just fuck J.J.?), Kelly Hu (39), Leeann Tweeden (40)

40) Teri Hatcher (re-entry)
39) Pam Anderson (33)
38) Jessica Simpson (debut)
37) K.D. Aubert (debut)
36) Maria Menounous (30)
35) Elizabeth Hurley (29)
34) Esther Baxter (34)
33) Ali Landry (36)
32) Alyssa Milano (24)
31) Rachel Bilson (20)

30) Jennifer Walcott (32)
29) Monica Bellucci (28)
28) Jessica Biel (26)
27) Rebecca Romijn (16)
26) Lacey Chabert (25)
25) Mya (31)
24) Sarah Shahi (35)
23) Nikki Cox (27)
22) Halle Berry (23)
21) Kristanna Loken (17)

20) Summer Altice (debut)
19) Kim Smith (22)
18) Katherine Heigl (18)
17) Kitana Baker (21)
16) Adriana Lima (8)
15) Shannon Elizabeth (19)
14) Beyonce (14)
13) Sofia Vergara (15)
12) Carmen Electra (12)
11) Shakira (11)

10) Stacy Keibler (13)
09) Vida Guerra (10)
08) Jennifer Love Hewitt (9)
07) Salma Hayek (7)
06) Brooke Burke (6)

05) Josie Maran (5)
04) Trish Stratus (3)

03) Eva Longoria (4)

02) Angelina Jolie (2)

01) What's-her-face....Jessica...Alba, is it? Sure. (1)

This post brought to you BAH: "Shake Ya Ass" by Mystikal (no, really)

If You Want My Want My Want My Autobiography...

So after work tonight, Aaron & I went to a local Mexican eatery. What's better than a local Mexican eatery? A Mexican eatery playing "Let's Stay Together".

What's better than that?

A Mexican eatery playing "Let's Stay Together" with two hot brunettes in it.

What's better than that?

Them singing along.

I, of course, have been singing along since I set foot in the joint. We catch each other's eyes a few times and laugh but don't stop singing. The song ends and now I'm suddenly in the mood for the Reverend. "Let's Stay Together"'ll do that. The jukebox is over by them, so I roll over and hit it up. I hear the cute one in the Bryn Mawr baby-blue hoodie go "I know this guy's going to put on something good" and without looking up, I go "I'll be honest--I'm just going to put on some more Al Green." So I pick, pick, pick and go sit down.

"Here I Am (Come And Take Me)" is also loved. But it's when I--based off the fact I caught them dancing a little bit--begin to hear my second choice that the evening gets a little more fun.

"Bootylicious". So they try to get Aaron to dance, which is funny on so many levels, but then I am dared. I had decided I was going to have to move. They were of the belief I was not sufficiently prepared for their toast condiment, but in reality it was they who were caught off-guard by my marmalade substitute! They admit they were going to play this earlier but had decided against it. Sadly, they quasi-wrangle out the door before they get "Brick House" dedicated to them, but needless to say I will be keeping a closer eye out at my Benihana's, just in case.

So Aaron & I discuss my kevorka, and in a little while the topic of discussion via something that just came up via his blog is something I visited in the early days of the blog, back when it was Another Step Closer To Rollerball: if you were making an autobiographical CD, what 16 songs would you put on there? Aaron being Aaron (and having a seven-song head start in his head just off the past 48 hours) made a list. So did I.

If it was 18 I'd put Sade's "No Ordinary Love" on there. And I got rid of "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, so per the rules I have one more replacement option before Sunday's over. But here, in song alphabetical order, is my CD:

• Back In Black - AC/DC
• The Boys Of Summer - Don Henley
• Crimson & Clover - Tommy James & the Shondells (though nothing against the Joan Jett cover)
• Don't Worry Baby - the Beach Boys
• Fight the Power - Public Enemy
• Five O' Clock World - the Vogues
• Flashlight - Parliament/Funkadelic
• Here I Am (Come And Take Me) - Al Green
• Juicy - Notorious B.I.G.
• Lithium - Nirvana
• Louie Louie - the Kingsmen!
• Man On the Moon - R.E.M.
  
• Once In A Lifetime - Talking Heads
• Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye
• Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - the Clash
• Voodoo Child (Slight Return) - Jimi Hendrix

So there it is. I think you guys know what I'd like to see out of y'all now. And I'm out this mothafucka! *throws down the mic and walks off*

This post is brought to you BAH: "Salt Shaker" live by the Ying Yang Twins & Lil' Jon

State Of The Friday Address

+: 6 days, 19 hours, 6 minutes...

+: Preppy white girls singing "Get Low". That will never become unfunny.

-: I'm so close to being broke because of Vegas. Verizon is cawlin' me, as Lil' Jon would say. See, all they have to do is let me go to Vegas, clean up, and then get their money, but noooooooooooooo...

+: Raquel Gibson. And all my Alba clone jokes have finally been born! It's alive! ALIVE!

+: KMB coming back to blog, since that joke reminded me.

-: Everybody in the CSSA league who let Rob pick Harrison and Manning. It just happened last year, you dumbasses! Not only did it just happen last year, it happened ALL THE TIME!

+: Finally going over at pokerrom.com, turning 1k into about 6k last night. Nothing like making a Queen-high straight on the river to bust 3 people at once. Well, one thing.

+: My new clock. Simple yet a little pretty with the teal circle.

-: Missing my first time at Del Mar. I would go, Danny, but work pays and creditors know where I live. Bet on a black horse that seems to hate everybody else for me!

-: There's no more Radio Shack 3 blocks away from my house! I wanted to buy this adapter so I could take my old-ass TV and be able to play DVDs on it, but I guess not.

+: Aaron loaning me the Donnie Darko and first season Scrubs DVDs, one of which may go missing somehow magically in a way I know not.

This post brought to you BAH: "Harder To Breathe" by Maroon 5

It's Getting Better All The Time (?)

Another Poker Night. Everything changes--people. Nothing changes--my game gets better and I lose a small amount of cash.

Tonight it was mostly Aaron's friends. An earlier start than usual, and we six were underway. Three hours later, it was over. Ironically enough on WPT Night, the cash game ended up breaking like a tournament.

My folds continue to get better. Mostly. I actually uttered the Jean-Robert Bellangian phrase "This is a great fucking laydown"--once with A/J and another time with pocket Jacks--and they both turned out to be great fucking laydowns. Anyway, things were going decently, until a point was reached after a couple eliminations I ended up all-in against Ivan.

Up against pocket Jacks with my 10/A.

Jack hits on the flop.

King on the turn.

And....queen on the river. Turn the bass up to 11 and start pumping "How We Do", I hit Broadway like Cats. Sadly, that is the highlight of the night, and it barely got me back up to the $10 buy-in at that. People get bounced. Six. Five. Ivan's out in fourth.

Down to three, and I'm horribly short-stacked, and get bounced. Then Aaron & his friend play head-to-head, and that's it. I make $5 for the third place finish, which bolsters me a little bit along with my improving play. I can only hope to an extent that the improvements pay off when we get down to doing the do in seven days and 14 hourish as they have in my dreams. Until such a point is reached I got to hope my online game improves, and keep solace in the quiet improvements that hopefully will lead to monster payoffs with more cash on the line.

Even though she's nowhere near WKIRGB, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE!

ADDENDUM: 20 minutes, two buy-ins. Lost with a Jack-high flush to a King-high flush and lost a full-house to a better full house. Fuck you, pokerroom.com.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Start Me Up" by the Stones

Where Surveys Go To DIE Get Filled

Whoop, here it is, thoughtcha knew...

This post brought to you BAH: boredom, and "I Walk The Line" as covered by Los Lonely Boys

It's Official: Jessica Alba Is Having The BEST YEAR EVER!

200 pictures.

And now, some poetry I have specifically written for the occassion.

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god

This post is brought to you BAH: my #2, "Don't Ya" by the Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes

KWBR: The Playlist

ROAD TO NOWHERE:
"Feel Good Inc" (10)
"Oh" (11)
"Blue Orchid" (12)
"Wait" (13)
"Just A Lil' Bit" (15)

15) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (debut)
14) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (6)
13) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)
12) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (debut)
11) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The Wold" (7)

10) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (8)
09) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (9)*
08) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (debut)
07) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (5)
06) Beck, "Girl" (14)*

05) Common, "Go" (2)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (debut)

03) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (4)*

02) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (debut)

01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [6w]

This post is brought to you BAH: "the Last Song" by the All-American Rejects

Craps And Handshakes

KISSES: For the fancy-ass belt buckle with the scrolling marquee--I will pause here so you can go back and read that--I'm to get from Hong Kong. They say 8-10 business days so I got to jump on paying quick so I can have it in Vegas. Once again, the Prince of Bling strikes the club!

PIMPSLAPS: The United States Postal Service, as apparently the MO for the Fantastic 4 poster is still in transit or got lost or something, and then asked "Is Japan different than Hong Kong?" when I tried to send out an MO for the belt buckle just now. I still haven't figured out the nicest way to say "Congratulations, you're a fucking moron."

PIMPSLAPS: I got to figure out a way to get this 20 to Hong Kong in the next 28 hours.

KISSES: Payday!

PIMPSLAPS: Overdraft charges!

KISSES: Two weeks and 40 minutes. The bird takes off. Mother. Fucking. VEGAS, BABAY!

PIMPSLAPS: Most of life. This is boring as monkey (™ Heat Man Enterprises, CEO Michael Renner, Esq.) waiting around for the Lost Weekend to begin.

PIMPSLAPS: I'm gonna miss SummerSlam, and I was quite looking forward to Matt Hardy catching Edge with a business end of an 18-wheeler.

KISSES: Poker Night sometime before we go. Truly an oasis. Even when it goes bad it's good, and when it goes great it's awesome.

PIMPSLAPS: Gardening. Construction. Car alarms. Shut the fuck up, the lot of you.

KISSES: Public Enemy's Greatest Hits. Even Aaron recognizes, and he's, like, Anaheim white. Heh.

KISSES: New season of Celebrity Poker Showdown! About fucking time, man.

PIMPSLAPS: Starting...about 3 hours after we land in Vegas. Bah.

KISSES: The way Peter Krause died on Six Feet Under has set a new threshold in 2005 for describing how good the sex was. "....and then I was all narm--narm--narm--"

This post brought to you BAH: "Save It For Later" as covered by Harvey Danger

It's Only Seventeen

1. TEN YEARS AGO: About to start junior year of high school. Highly impressionable. Good boy.
2. FIVE YEARS AGO: About to start junior year of college. Pretty cynical. Less good boy. Adjusting to the taste of adult beverages.
3. THIS TIME LAST YEAR: Working for the Man. Had just gotten my friend Danny back in my life after a 12-year absence. Starting to make the Gaslamp Quarter and the party scene therein my home away from home.
4. YESTERDAY: All my troubles seemed so far away....oh, wait. Uhh...watched some of the Chris Benoit DVD, did some writing, watched the local WSOP circuit event with Jesus winning with the quad Aces, talked about maybe having a poker night on Saturday with Aaron, watched Rescue Me, did some more writing.
5. TODAY: Is the greatest day I've ever known...wait, no. Woke up at the crack of 11:30, watched the Garden State DVD with the Braff/Portman commentary, found out Chappelle's Show was dead (CHARLIE MURPHY! :( ), did this, and after that...*shrug*
6. TOMORROW: Fuck if I know.
7. FIVE SNACKS I ENJOY: Reese's Big Cups (mmm...gigantic peanut butter cups), salad with Italian dressing, Swiss Cake rolls, chips & salsa, carrot sticks.
8. FIVE BANDS/SINGERS WHOSE CATALOGUES WITH WHICH I'M VERY FAMILIAR: Al Green, Led Zeppelin, Red Hot Chili Peppers, R.E.M., Nirvana. Yes, I just listed my five favorites of all time. Screw you.
9. FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH $100 MILLION: Get the fuck up out of here and live downtown or by the beach, donate $5 million to the local Boys & Girls club, buy my parents and brother a house on the other side of town, start a publishing house, take all my friends out for a good dinner and a club without them lifting a finger while riding between spots in a Hummer limo.
10. FIVE LOCATIONS I'D LIKE TO RUN AWAY TO: Vegas (soon, my precious, soon), New York, Miami, Ibiza, Jessica Alba's shower
11. FIVE BAD HABITS: Arrogance, sloth, lust, gluttony, greed
12. FIVE THINGS I LIKE DOING: playing poker, writing, eating good food, bullshitting with my best friends, and shaking what my momma gave me.
13. FIVE TV SHOWS I LIKE: Scrubs, 24, Arrested Development, Celebrity Poker Showdown, and Rescue Me
14. FAMOUS PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO MEET: David Letterman, Jessica Alba, Kevin Smith (actually talk to in depth instead of the quick run-in from '03), Michael Wilbon, Tony Kornheiser, Jay-Z
15. BIGGEST JOYS AT THE MOMENT: The prospective Vegas trip. The nice weather here. When the writing feels more like court stenography than dragging the Stone of Shame. The new Alba beach pics. Getting better at poker. The reaction the Running Man gets in the club.
16. FAVORITE TOYS: The hearts of impressionable young girls. Oh, wait, I'm filling this out and not my friends. GameCube, the computer, Natalie my cell, the unbelievably superflous remote to my radio.
17. FIVE PEOPLE WHO SHOULD ANSWER THIS: Rob, Aaron, Jen, Matt, and Jamie.

This post brought to you BAH: "Toxic" by Britney Spears (no, really)

Fun At Work

So, I'm trying to decide what was more so: the picture of the guy who looked like a suicide bomber London-style who in the recent past had been taking pictures of the building or the off-duty officer who said that coat check where I was working was the place he was most scared of someone sneaking in a bomb.

Good times.

This post brought to you BAH: "Best Of Me (Part 2)" by Mya & Jay-Z