KWBR: the Playlist

PUT A LID ON IT:
"Speed Of Sound" (13)

15) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil' Bit" (11)
14) Beck, "Girl" (debut)
13) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (3)
12) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (7)
11) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (15)

10) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (14)*
09) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (12)*
08) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (9)
07) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (10)*
06) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (8)

05) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (4)
04) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (6)*

03) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (2)

02) Common, "Go" (5)*

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

This post brought to you BAH: "Crazy Life" by Toad the Wet Sprocket

I Say Don't You Know, You Say You Don't Know...

There's an episode of the X-Files where no matter what Scully and Mulder do, a bank holdup ends up with everyone--themselves included--dying. Well, at least until the last go-round, otherwise the series would've ended much sooner.

I've had a bad night.

Started with work, which sadly in retrospect was the highlight of the day. So, after work, I have dinner and it suddenly occurs to me with the heat wave suddenly dying I might want a coat later. A coat I do not have. But I rationalize it away by figuring I'll be mostly inside, and will be sweating so much a coat will only make things worse.

I hit the club, and it earns a third strike. First two strikes on St. Patrick's Day, where I lost the World Title and instead of spreading a brunette sandwich got to watch my friend puke 10 Irish Car Bombs and her small intestine. But I chalk those off to a freak occurence. Despite the Clash's catchy tune, lightning doesn't strike twice, right? I sip drinks watching some 80-year-old guy hit on all the girls (which, quite frankly, was the best thing I'd ever seen in my life) and a guy who looks like he broke free from the Killers moving like a diabetic who hasn't gotten their daily dose of the insulin. It's not a matter of who, but of which, right?

Wrong. Despite that the floor was populated with more lanky uncoordinated white stiffs than have been seen in North America since the 1989 Milwaukee Bucks, I get shut out. Shut out. I never get shut out, but it happens tonight. Oh, and somebody steals my $30 retro Kangol hat, to boot.

So I head to the spot to see Liz and drown my sorrows in a fine hot chocolate.

No Liz.

Suck.

I lean against the wall for the bathroom, now mad I have to kill an hour or so here anyway until I can get home. I look inside to find out what the new flavor of the month is for future references and visits.

Fare Thee Well, one of those little whiteboards says.

Liz, 7/29, it says.

SUCK.

So there I sit in never-never land, and after the initial shock of it wears off I wonder if there's anything else I can be doing. Turns out, I can be checking my voicemail and getting a message from Rebecca inviting me to a party on the assumation I wouldn't be doing anything. Oh, and she Wants To Talk.

I cannot get home soon enough.

There are no cabs.

I start walking, and great, one's across the street at the 7/11.

Would anybody care to guess what comes next?

That's right, the cab doesn't go.

So he says about 15 minutes and I start walking some more, and since I'm black and it's about 4 in the morning I seriously doubt I'm going to get a shitload of cabs coming my way. My crush is disappearing, my almost-girlfriend's got me on the morphine drip, I threw an 0-fer in the club, and as I continue to walk it's about 50/50 as to whether I want to live to make it home or get shredded in a violent hail of gunfire.

The cab is fixed enough for me to get here.

That's comforting. Now all I have to worry about is watching my Quadrangle disintegrate into a straight line over the course of the week, if Rebecca still wants me, if I deserve it, if this club has become bad luck or if I should start putting up LOST: One mojo. If Found, Contact B. Rosser signs, and the fact my job highlighted my day just because of the lack of suck.

In semi-related news, that new Nine Inch Nails song is pretty sweet.

This post brought to you BAH: "Novocaine For The Soul" by eels

Chutes And Ladders

The first south poker night was a pretty good success, full of quips and Krispy Kremes. I lost about $15 in three hands--my first $10 in the first two hands--but other than that, played the way I wanted to play. I think the inital $10 was just figuring out style. In the end I ended up down $7, turning a profit on my buy-back.

Joanna, on the other hand, quadrupled her original $10 and THEN some, and is banned from all future poker nights. Her, and her children, and her children's children! (For six months.)

This post brought to you BAH: "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?" by Paula Cole

the Oft Imitated Never Really Duplicated Friday Night Lights Post

ALBA: You are looking live...

Yeah, it's so cute, it's so nice! And then you find it in bed handcuffing your sister! What the FUCK is cute about THAT, huh!?

Not pictured: Mr. Gates' yacht

Anybody know what the hell I was going for here?

My kingdom for a lightening of this shot, so I can use my dirty "Use the Force!" and lightsaber jokes. PLEASE.

And then one day they decided they'd just had enough of Grimace's shit.

Sure, it's expensive. But you want quality babysitters, you gotta pay.

Yarr. That's gonna replace the whale in my nightmares.

God to Mike Dupin: I hate you, and so does your mama.

Sardines somewhere look at each other and think "We're getting off light."

Get your philosophy from a bumper sticker...

Maggie Grace is in this shot, I swear.

"Look at this tubby fuck right here. Kate Beckinsale's in the hizouse and we're next to Mrs. Fucking Fields..."

90 degrees

180 degrees

270 degrees

360. Yeah, it was pretty busy on Saturday. Go fig.

Tenacious D(iane)!

"Where do they get those wonderful dipping sauces? Here? Ah."

Even Pac-Man has to wait in line sometimes.

We were actually both thinking of 11½, is the damndest thing. Also, Dupin sucks. Even more so.

This is not a good shot of Summer Altice.

Neither is this one.

The moral of the story: restraining orders suck.

He's on Crossing Jordan. I remember him as Astounding Andy from Night Stand with Dick Dietrick. I'm weird.

Deh deh deh deh deh deh deh deh deh deh deh!

It'd be cool, but at the Con every day is Halloween.

And if you think that mask is creepy, he's right around the corner from the women's bathroom!

Look at the fucking poser on the left escaltor. EIGHT MONTHS AGO, pal. Fucking biters.

"Our tech support staff should be back in a couple hours."
"No, we swear this time. Sorry about the last four days."

They call me white Moses, black Jesus...

ALBA: Aaron for the quick whiparound time and RT for the hosting priviligamijigs.

ALBA: Wedding Crashers, even if I like Rachel McAdams better as a blonde.

ALBA: Poker night tonight, and the club after work tomorrow. Good times/these are our good times...

ALBA: Payday!

ALBA: Under a month to fucking Vegas, baby!

DUBYA: I think it's high past time I quit jerking Rebecca around. Let's hope for forgiveness.

DUBYA: This heat wave. At least in Vegas I'll be drunk all the time and looking at skin, this is just annoying. I'm thinking of singing a CB4 song right now, and you know which one.

ALBA: David Banner's "Play". Good thing the Republicans are in charge, dirty songs to bump and grind on are getting raunchier and raunchier by the week, it seems.

ALBA: My poker nickname is now going to be the Dark Horse (thanks, Dule Hill, your check's in the mail). I need to buy a chess set and get the dark horse piece out so I can cap my cards in Vegas with it. I've always wanted one of those baubles.

DUBYA: This heat is really making me reconsider my stance on underwear.

DUBYA: In order to do Vegas up, I'm missing Anger Management 3 tonight. Everybody on Aftermath AND Lil' Jon. That's just gonna hurt.

DUBYA: Sweating.

ALBA: HERE! A good picture of Summer Altice to wrap it up on a high note.

This post brought to you BAH: "Freaks" by Live

This Year's Con : Inside This Young Black Soul Is An Old Jewish Comedian Dying To Get Out

Nothing happened today. By the time I fully recovered from my hangover, it was all over but the shouting. As a result of that and buying Rob's birthday present with my break, Dupin gets to live another 350-odd days without Iyari Limon being The Message. Feel good about something, Mikey!

So as I come in, one of my coworker friends says she saw me last night post-Hooters pre-guest-DJ-dance-machine-sucking-face-with-what's-her-face and asks why I look so bad. I say I only got like 3 hours sleep. She says that's a shock. I explain my mom woke up my brother for the Sunday service around 6:15 and then I couldn't really get back into REMville. She and one of my other coworker older female buddies says I should've been there asking forgiveness. And I say "Me ask forgiveness? I don't care if I can't remember her name, she stuck her tongue in my mouth first." It gets the reaction, I go out to change on the high note.

All well and good.

Except my original line was "I forget her name--I think it started with H and ended with her tongue down my throat."

I think the latter's much funnier, but ah well.

And now for a week off. Time to decompose, play poker, and plot Vegas.

This post brought to you BAH: "Just Like Heaven" by the Cure

This Year's Con: Come For The Show, Stay For The Afterparty

This is going to be one of the hardest posts I've ever had to make, partially because that infernal I love you I love you I love you song has lodged itself in my medium lobe and mostly because I'm Paris Hilton sloppy drunk right now.

Let's see what survived the Heineken bombings!

So, in bad news, missed Charlize, Kevin Smith, Tenacious D (thanks, completely bullshit last hour switch!), and Clare Kramer. Sadly, I recognized Clare but it was about 3 seconds too late. She's a lighter shade of blonde now. And the Wedding Crashers girls, which was damn irritable because at where I assumed the end of the line was I assumed I would be able to burn my lunch break waiting and having the hotter than fuck Summer Altice do the Voicemail Message of Immortality. And then when I brought up the fact I didn't use my job to line-hop, I still got sent to the boonies! Fucking security bitches. I got a chainsaw with their name on it, I do.

What else? Saw Amanda, who is being hoed out by Uncle Walt and Poppa Mickey for the event. NARNIA NARNIA NARNIA w00t et al terra firma pax requiem. Whatever the FOCK that means. Uhhhhhh...oh, in the daily Fuck Mike Dupin newsbulletin I got Nicholas Brendan's autograph, which adds to the Hannigan pipeline I have going, with Julie Benz and Mercedes McNab on tap in hours. (Funny: in doing this post in my head I of course immediately flew to Donovan McNabb. I blame the firewater.) Oh, and I saw and got a shot of Maggie Grace. I could've gotten a one-on-one but that's what I get for not watching Lost. I know, shuddupp. Saw Gene Simmons and got depressed because from behind I thought he was Wayne Newton.

I think that's everything.

OH! The line for Stacy Keibler was way too long--but even hot without makeup. So hoorah.

So after the show I had a dinner at a establishment less known for food than the frontally blessed ambiance and hit the club. Went great per usual, and I apparently threw out my voice screaming out "You Shook Me All Night Long" and, now that I can recall it, "I Love Rock N' Roll" and "You Give Love A Bad Name" (oh, the pain, the shame) to a lesser extent. Anyway, I was putting the moves on this girl named Danielle but when I lost her I settled for making out with some cute blond named Melissa. I think it was Melissa. It matters, right? So that happened on about three or four occassions.

Best part of the late evening--besides Humpty and DITTY~!--was hanging around outside the club after being exhausted from dancing my ass off after the shift and a guy asking me if my To: Women From: God shirt was true. Cue Rebecca--FREUDIAN SLIP! PROBLEM! MESSAGE!--Melissa or whoever coming out and sucking face with me.

"Truth in advertising laws've gotten ugly", I tells him.

Good thing Liz wasn't at Fumari tonight.

And now, bed, so I can wake up, go to work, and comp my brother and one of his dork friends into the Con.

I'm such a nice boy.

This post brought to you BAH (no, really): "Finding Out True Love Is Blind" by Louis XIV

This Year's Con: Big Five

5) Kane is frightening in person.
I don't mean to say it as he's a bad guy, or terrorizing small children and whatnot. It's just he pops up out of nowhere wearing a WrestleMania 21 shirt and his ring gear from the waist down and I say "Kane! Hey!" and he says "Hi." But then he smiles at me and all I'm thinking about is how many times I've seen this look shortly followed by (fill in your favorite: attempted vasectomy through car battery, chokeslam, Tombstone). I literally almost crap myself because I'm thinking he's going to pivot and chokeslam me down to the parking garage with everybody looking down chanting "HOLY SHIT!" too busy to notice my spleem has escaped my body and I'm fucking dying.

I'm pleased to report Kane just went up the escalator. I was shook for a good 5 minutes after, though.

4) I now know what it feels like when doves cry.
So for the first time since last decade, I see my old friend Ray. We catch up as much as possible, and he mentions Queen Jessica showing up last year and how he missed it. I am also bummed with authority--

--later on, a conversation about 20 feet away from me and what I heard--
Boy: blah blah blah blah blah Four blah blash Jessica Alba
Me: [ears perk up]
Boy: blah blah blabbity blah blah blah
Me: [eyes narrow, turns away]

--and he then asks me if I like Jessica.

My hand shoots to my waist and I pull out Natalie and flip her open, where the cover shot of her GQ issue is the wallpaper. Ray whips off his phone, and the second picture inside the GQ...

...anyway, to quote Dave Attell, we catch each other's eyes, we both start laughing.

3) Lenient bosses rule...
Because I came in an hour late and was able to talk my way out of persecution because...

2) The starlets I want are never on time.
...I didn't meet Natalie Portman. A damn dirty shame, I was staking out the secret entrance, friends with security, Aaron was on the inside doing recon, I literally had them all set up like dominoes in a row. And she was late coming out, so three plus hours down the shitter (including one I was supposed to get paid for). It totally would've been worth it, of course. After making myself late, I had to see how far I could go and not get fired. I should've hung in another half-hour; she probably would've come out and I could've worked the maximum amount for 3 breaks.

But I'm still upbeat overall about the day...

1) To: Michael Dupin From: God RE: My opinion of you Text: You SUCK.
So as I'm fashionably late on my post, I'm just looking around. It's a big part of the job, what Vegas calls their jammers: any problems, you solve 'em. So as I'm scanning the lobby, I see a blonde.

And I'm like 85% sure.

So I call out, "Amber! Hey, Amber!"

And she turns and heads over to me and I do a double take and say "I didn't really think it was you!" But it is. She autographs my program--and Michael, poor Michael, this is the kicker:

The guy who takes the picture of me with Tara is WARREN.

To Butch:
[heart] Amber Benson
"Tara"

Awwww. You're looking at the bridge between Willow's girlfriends, in consecutive years no less. I'm dorking out quite hard right now.

Good luck getting to sleep, Michael. Hands that touched Alyson Hannigan touched mine, and the proof goes up next week.

I smell an ulcer coming...

This post brought to you BAH: "Never Been In Love" by Talib Kweli

This Year's Con: Baby Steps

There are way more one-hitters than no-hitters. And way more no-hitters than perfect games.

So for the first day ever at Comic-Con, I didn't meet anybody famous. Though I could've met Virgil! ("You said famous!") Iyari no-showed, which was mildly distressing, and I didn't get to break to see John Kricfalusi. Ah, well. I did, in the interests of fairness, get a shot with a smoking hot Leialike, so the day wasn't a complete wash. Yeah, the Force was with me...in my pants!

Classics are classics because they're always good.

Tomorrow & Saturday are the big star-gazing days, though it's going to be fun this weekend with the Padres back in the Litterbox across the street from the year the Con quite possibly breaks six digits.

And as my tired head hits the pillow tonight, a little voice will go "Portman, take me away!"...

This post brought to you BAH: "Megalomaniac" by Incubus

the King of Clubs The King Of Hearts

I'm sitting here thinking.

Three roads diverged in a snowy wood, and I...

Haven't picked one yet. But I'm getting there.

Saturday I was thinking of calling Rebecca. R's the one I met back on Memorial Day Eve and had the good date with, and the one who went off for a couple weeks for her brother's graduation.

This is where Liz and...ooh, I really don't want to name names on the third. For completion's sake and because I like the name, we'll call her Jessica...step up further in my mind. Liz and I start flirting as I through a random series of events show up at the hookah bar more often. Jessica I meet out of the blue at a party and we get along great, especially on the dance floor.

Rebecca comes back, and I pull the Swingers over the holiday weekend on her. Why? Because I have to. Better to be aloof than needy. Don't play the game, I just make the rules.

So I'm about to call Saturday afternoon and get into the whole casualask to Rebecca of what she's doing Saturday night and see if she would also care to frequent the club I'm planning to hit when Aaron comes up and tempts me with the possibility of seeing Jessica.

And what option does my 142 IQ take? Jessica. Duh. And she doesn't disappoint, as at some point I am sure my overt staring of her when I can get away with it is going to cause a Clark Kentian eruption of fire. Doesn't, thankfully. But I do forget to call Rebecca back for a day or two, or up until right nowish.

I go see Liz with the date question cocked and loaded in my mind. Despite that, I play some of my best poker ever. If only we were allowed to bet money in the City of San Diego I would be quite far ahead--folding good, making fold-inducing raises, figuring out Aaron & Ivan's hands by how much they bet on some occassions. In fact, things are going well enough I sort of go on autopilot pokerwise and start focusing on the Lust Parallelogram I've wandered into. I think of the date I had with cute and funny Rebecca, I think of probably-way-too-young-for-me-but-that-just-makes-it-better Jessica's legs, I think of Liz inches away and it's like If it weren't for my horse... except the scenery's a billion times better when it all goes six ways from Sunday.

Earlier on, Aaron & I order hot chocolate while Ivan foolishly reveals he bought his hookah elsewhere. Liz goes as far as to jokingly call it a betrayal while we immediately sell him out and make sure our beverages don't get spit in. So when he says hot chocolate and hands me a five for two bucks, I decide to take a break from the game action and get him a second hot chocolate.

So, I get back, and Liz brings the hot chocolate.

Aaron just paid me back for the first one, since he didn't have exact change. Superflous! So after some embarrassment, I just take it in. And then, after putting the straw in but not having any, I decide to get a refund. What's more, I decide to announce it to my friends.

My friends who immediately look at me as if I am dancing the fox trot on Elliot Ness' corpse.

But fuck them, I'll get to see Liz, which is worth it. Back to the front I head, and then I explain to her exactly what had happened and calmly ask for my refund.

She says to me but you bought it. I say, this is true, but I didn't have any of it, all I did was put in the straw. I rotate the glass a bit to show her the level of liquid has remained unchanged since she made it, and we go back and forth about the rebate on the chocolate, the possibility of germs, and my flash of idiocy. And she says something, and I smile and ask if you're trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson, and she says no with a yes smile and then I turn away.

It was really something, the look on Ivan & Aaron's faces when I walked back with the rebate.

And the hot chocolate.

It's a Spectorian Wall of Sound, whatthehowthedidyouholdherupwhatthehowtheareyoufuckingkiddingme for about two minutes. All I can do is laugh and deliver one of my favorite quotes by an African-American philosopher: I'm a hustla, baby.

Poker continues. I'm too busy laughing. They're too busy wondering if I am, in fact, Lucifer Hisself. There's a followup move I have to do, and it takes me a while to figure out what it is. Clearly, heart chess is being played here and she's made a move. But while I ignore the poker, I think of everything possible to say and/or do.

And when it closes, I thank her one more time, and tip her the money she gave me back. An "Aww!" and "Thank you" later, with another fetching smile, I'm out the door with the Dirk Diggler Power Kick.

Aaron thinks I should've pulled the trigger earlier, and I'm willing to bet Rob does too. But she took a step forward, and I met it. So the next move is the all-in, not this one.

I mean, if I was smart enough to wait until the end of the night to drop the tip, I'm not about to blow my goodfaith wad in that early a stroke.

As for Rebecca and Jessica...well, clearly, some things are going to be done on my part on those fronts. But all I can think about now is a certain beautiful blonde and that second hot chocolate that tasted like heaven-coated sweetness.

Chris Griffin was right: the best things in life are free.

Current music: "Until The End Of The World" by U2

Work ChummmmmmmmmmmmmmmPs

My usual Saturday night I head downtown, across the street from work, and wander Fourth and Fifth Avenues looking for a good place to get up on the goodfoot, drink, and be merry.

What'd I do at work today?

Wandered Fourth & Fifth Avenues plugging the Comic-Con.

They said some people found it hard. I said "Some people need to try doing it every other Saturday with seven beers in them at 2 in the morning with two girls using you as a crutch to keep themselves upright."

Oh, and there was a metric shitload of hot hostesses out, including a really cute British girl with blue eyes working--where else--at a Mexican restaurant.

And I got off two and a half hours early.

BRING ON THE PORTMANIA!

Current music: "In The Garage (live)" by Weezer

That Which Does Not Kill Us...

August 16th: Sin City DVD
August 19th-22nd: Vegas vacation.

All I know is if I'm still alive on the 23rd, I'm going to be dizzy like a b a s t a r d...

Current music: "Popular" by Nada Surf

KWBR: the Playlist

First time for everything...

WHERE IS THE LOVE:
"Be Yourself" (14)
"Beverly Hills" (15)

15) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (9)
14) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (13)
13) Coldplay, "Speed Of Sound" (7)
12) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (11)
11) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil' Bit" (6)

10) Ludacris feat Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (12)*
09) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (5)
08) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (9)
07) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (4)
06) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (10)*

05) Common, "Go" (debut)
04) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (3)

03) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (1)

02) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (2)*

01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (debut) [2w]

Current music: "Lucky Man" by the Verve

This Is The Usual Friday Post With A Little Twist

Shoutout to Victor, condolences for everybody affected by the London Attack, and eggnog in the face of the guilty parties.

LADDER: Payday!

LADDER: Paying for the Alba Fantastic 4 poster to help bolster my Jessica corner, and being able to get Passion Is A Fashion, a Clash biography for only $10.50 off eBay.

LADDER: The weather, which is why we suffer exorbitant prices.

SNAKE: The mercurial nature of my modem out of nowhere today.

LADDER: Next week's the motherfucking Con! List of people I hope to interact with (ranging from meet and give props to saw off own arm for a no-holds-barred one-night stand): Iyari Limon (it's becoming a tradition), Jerry O'Connell, Christine Taylor, Lucy Lawless, John Kricfalusi, Greg "the Hammer" Valentine, Charisma Carpenter, Natalie Portman, Stan Lee, Seth Green, John Landis (going for the repeat), John Favreau (especially given the trip to Vegas next month), Grace Park, David Boreanaz (maybe Jaime Bergman?), Amber Benson, Kevin Smith, Joss Whedon, Nicholas Brendon, Kate Beckinsale, Eva Mendes, Matt Groening, Michelle Rodriguez, Summer Altice, Rachel Sterling, Tenacious D, and Carla Gugino.

Keep in mind this is just who's advertised to show up.

SNAKE: The Portman announcement--this is akin to having a religious revival in the LA Coliseum and mentioning Jesus is going to swing by for Q & A. If I don't come back alive, you know why: I stood between 90,000 nerds and their goddess.

LADDER: I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about Natalie recording The Voicemail Message on the cell I named after her. Plus, I gotta figure meeting Natalie Portman is like playing with pocket aces all the time--how many times have I pissed off poor Dupin with "Everybody's who's hugged Ms. Calendar put their hand up. Hey, it's just me! I guess you need to shut the fuck up, then!"

LADDER: Fantastic 4's out today! Will it suck? Do I give a rat's sweet ass? Oh, that reminds me...

SNAKE: Leno...

LADDER: ...interviewing Jessica. Jessica actually copping to her jealousy and absolute willingness to scrap over her man, including the old punch in the hand...if she hadn't broken the scale, that would have broken the scale. It was either cute in a frightening way or frightening in a cute way.

LADDER: By putting my right hand up and applying constant pressure to the mute I barely heard from the fat-chinned eunuch.

LADDER: Jennifer Tilly winning a women's event at the WSOP. Was it because I took the pictures of her last year? Who can say? Well, me. Sure, some people will try and tell you it's her boyfriend the Unabomber, but ask QT how Kill Bill did after I wished him good luck in '03. Not only do I got the magic stick, I'm a magic charm.

LADDER: Londonites, for their well-that-sucked-back-to-work-on-Monday attitude. I hate to sound glib and flip about this (outside of my 'pocket sevens are going to get called the London Attack in poker within the next year' comment last night) but it almost seems like they're fully prepared to handle something like this.

LADDER: VEGAS, BABY! Oh, I know it's like five and a half weeks away. But you swing a deal like Aaron, Ivan and I swung, and then have a week off with nothing but time on your hands and the daydreams are just wheat ready to be reaped or whatever the fuck it is one does with wheat. I feel like Red crossing the border to that Mexican town where Andy was working on the boat. I hope I can make it into the Grand, and shake the concierge's hand with a 10 in mine. I hope the pool at the Hard Rock is as full of morally decrepit babes looking for someone to fling around as it has been in my dreams. I hope...

SNAKE: I'm thirsty.

LADDER: Mmm...Pepsi.

SNAKE: I haven't played poker in entirely too fucking long. Epecially emboldended by Ms. Tilly's success and the trip, I need to rectify this and the sooner the better.

LADDER: Grandmaster Flash coming to town...

SNAKE: ...on the first night of Comic-Con. Decisions!

Current music: "Electric Avenue" by Eddy Grant

Ezekiel 25:17, or something like that...

And you will know my name is the LORD
When I lay my Vengeance upon thee.

Either one works. Carlito defends, Christian rules, and Lita spends 20 consecutive minutes without being on her back.

Be there (or there). Aloha.

Current music: "All Day And All Of The Night" by the Kinks

And On The Count Of 40, Everybody Run Back To My Fantasy

So, did a spot of HTML work and reformed my hot chick laminates list without the help of outside sources. You can pan down the page and see it after the blogs.

Tidbits:

• Four dropped out: Anna Kournikova (26), Kylie Mingoue (28), Teri Hatcher (32), and Tyra Banks (39); but all of them are in the top 50.
• Leeann Tweeden and Jennifer Walcott re-enter the top 40, and Kelly Hu & Sarah Shahi debut.
• Jessica Biel made the biggest jump, up 11 to 26.
• Jennifer Love Hewitt is back in the top 10 roughly since Time Of Your Life.
• Jessica Alba....still #1.

Current music: "Walk On The Wild Side" by Lou Reed

And The Winner IS...

LAST NIGHT: A simple game based on the Price Is Right. If I wanted to take an over-the-weekend four-day three-night roundtrip flight to Vegas and stay in the MGM Grand, how much would I have to spend?

Five guesses.

And you all overbid.

I'm not talking kinda overbid, I'm talking overbid. I'm talking up to three times as much at the most extreme.

Because the winning number for my new vacation beginning six weeks from tomorrow?





It's $375.

How does this happen? How does a man land this plum a spot on the Strip at that big a discount this close to the date of the event?!

Two things: you should know I'm a veritable captain of charisma, and as such--heh--that's how I roll!

Current music: "Don't Lose Your Head" by INXS

In My America...

...the longer people preach about the need for the Lord Jesus Christ to save somebody who obviously isn't interested, the closer they come to spontaneously combusting.

...robots do all the work on major holidays.

...the national anthem is "Flashlight" by Parliament.

...the guillotine is back, and we are richer for having tested it out on Julia Roberts, Ryan Seacrest, and the Runaway Bride before using it on the murderers and rapists.

...girls under 18 who look older have a red barcode on the back of their hands. Between 18 and 21, yellow barcode.

...dress size is in direct inverted proportion to hotness.

...the hottest selling celebrity porno tape is Angelina Jolie/Jessica Alba.

...my birthday's a national holiday.

...Valentine's Day is so completely optional.

...we've annexed Canada, renamed that North America, and renamed North America Butchland.

...Vicente Fox lives in Compton. Or, he did for a couple hours...

..."Hail To The Chief" has been replaced by "Back In Black".

...sarcasm meters made by fine upstanding Japanese workers are readily available to the populace, just 'cause.

...there's a PSP in every hand and a plasma in every room.

...Brazil is the 51st state.

...not only have I legalized it, but the chip and salsa industry has hit 10 figures.

...not everybody's opinion counts the same, because some people clearly have no idea what the fuck they're talking about.

...in the event something horrible happens to me, David Stern will act as defacto President.

...I've bombed the Fox News building back to the Stone Age.

...Catholic school comes with 4 grand worth of psychiatry appointments.

...fewer Starbucks. More strip clubs.

...I've taught the world to sing, but it's not in perfect harmony because a lot of us are drunk. Coke. Pfft.

...everybody within 30 minutes of their job goes home for lunch, you get off at 7, dinner's at 9, the clubs close at 4, and work starts promptly at 10.

...Tom Cruise has his own reality show, and the ratings are spectacular.

...people who can't control their kids get them controlled for them. Any irritated strangers get 1 (one) free swing at the little fucker.

...I'm the gardener on Wisteria Lane. Screw you, this is MY America.

Current music: "Pass The Mic" by the Beastie Boys

The Interactive Portion Of My Blog

I figure I'll run this game for 24 hours, since it'll be fun.

Now then, the rules are basic Price Is Right, whoever can come closest without going over wins. Those who already know the answer can't play.

But what do you think I'd have to pay to get a roundtrip flight to Vegas next month along with a four-day, three-night over-the-weekend stay at the MGM Grand?

Hm?

Use the comments. I trust we can all play by the rules of the honor system, so don't cheat. At least over something trivial like this.

Current music: "Somebody To Love" by Queen

And the Whole Pampered Style-Making Cult of the Bored Young

It occurs to me on this very early Sunday morning as I sit back in this chair smelling dimly of sweat and booze, dreading work the next couple days and feeling an ache in the back of my neck that I'm just sick of it.

I'm sick of meeting friends from the Net and I'm sick of taking them to the Strip Club where apparently everyone knows my name and I'm sick of letting DJs let me do the chorus of "The Choice Of Yours" and I'm sick of walking Fifth Avenue on a Saturday night after the game with beers in me and I'm sick of wowing hot girls with my dance moves and encyclopedic knowledge of old school hip hop and I'm sick of bumping and I'm sick of grindiahahahahahaahaha.

Well, shit, I tried.

Current music: "Undone (The Sweater Song)" by Weezer

Don't Know How To Live. Gotta Lot Of Toys.

Too many. I actually have a blog where I just fill out surveys, cheekily named When Keeping It Real Fills In The Blanks.

Be there. Aloha.

Current music: "Brimful Of Asha" by Cornershop