[Deep breath]

A'ight, so everyone's been clamoring for the Vegas blog. Well, to be honest ... ... ... ...
make sure you're sitting down now ... ... ... Vegas kinda sucked. Yeah, I know, it's hard to believe that a fool like me that enjoys debauchery and drinking could have a bad time in Vegas, but it happened. Here's what I learned:

- it's really hard to win at blackjack with 13s and 15s
- losing at blackjack sucks
- losing sucks
- free drinks don't taste quite as good when you lose
- did I mention that losing sucks?
- sucking at blackjack sucks

Ok, so we'll come back to the Vegas part. The Grand Canyon was friggin' AWESOME! I've put a couple of pics up on Myspace, and I'm going to try to get a synopsis and pics up on my second webpage. I got some great pics and even got a really cool video of the canyon just after sunset, when it turned kinda purple. I'll save the smarmy stuff for the webpage, because some funny stuff did happen on the trip.

Let's take a dip through some of the bad things that happened, cuz there were so many of them, it got to be hilarious.

- A'ight, so I lost at blackjack. It was so bad that at one point, I was sitting at a table and I actually won a hand, and everyone cheered. I immediately got up and bowed to the table, the dealer, and to a couple of people passing by. Yeah, I was a little tipsy. I then tipped the dealer $5 and proceeded to return to losing.

- I saw a hooker! Yeah, I know, that sounds dumb as hell when you're in Vegas, but I'm just not very good at spotting hookers. I guess that's not a bad thing, unless you're on the Hooker Dating Game or something. Anyway, so I'm sitting at the blackjack table with this Slavic blonde lady, and this old dude comes up with some girl who looked about 12. She was sporting her best pink sweatsuit, and had a Huster shirt on. I looked at the Slavic chick, tipped my head and the two of them, and started laughing. Then, the dealer carded her, which cracked me up again. The old dude wasn't amused, until I asked the dealer why she wasn't carding the old dude. He laughed and the dealer got pissed. Tough crowd.

- At that same table, after Mr. Lucky and his hookin' daughter left, this Russian dude pulled up. Now, Vladimir was completely and totally blitzed, and he had all these chips in his hand. Not only that, but he had pretty much every denomination of chip available - everything from a $5 to $1000. Before each hand, he'd stare at his hand, shuffle the chips around, and come up with a random combination. It was awesome. On one hand, he bet $15, on another, it was something like $1135. I thought about following him around in case he just happened to drop a chip or two.

- So, my hotel completely hosed me out of a workout. I went to the fitness center, which was supposed to be an amenity, and was told it would be $25 to work out. This was the exchange on that situation:

She: Hi
Me: Hi, uh, where's the fitness center?
She: Right back there (points). It's $25 for one day, or $65 for a 3 day pass.
Me: Um ... uh ... (rattles head) ... what was that again?
She: (Rambles off idiotic pricing scale again)
Me: It's supposed to be an amenity and part of my package. Is there a charge for the pool?
She: No.
Me: (blank stare) ... but there's a charge for the fitness center?
She: Yes.

Yeah, that was pretty much the gist of my stay in Vegas. They also charged me twice for the same movie. Ok, so usually that's not a big deal, but it's a little nerve wracking when it's a Vivid movie, and you have to call and bring their attention to it. Heh. I also forgot a pair of jeans there and missed my flight home. Wahoo! In retrospect, I probably should've just saved the money and bought a date with Sarah Jessica Parker or bought the entire bar a round at Portside.

As a final act of indignity, when I got back, I managed to wash my mini notebook that I use to jot things down that I think are funny. Needless to say, notebooks that are washed and dried aren't quite as useful once that process is complete. Yeah.

I do remember this, though. So, everyone's at the Grand Canyon, chilling (literally), and waiting for the sun to set, which was about 10 minutes away. Luckily, I was standing near these idiot Australian folks, and I got to hear their conversation. It went something like this:

Roit! So, I don't like wine, but I'll drink it if it's free!
Crikey! You'll boot everywhere!
Roit!
Roit! You booted last night, too! Crikey!
Roit!
Here! Now that's a knife!
Yeah! One what?

Ok, so the last two lines were from Crocodile Dundee, but you get the idea. Friggin' Aussies. I mean, I love Men At Work, INXS, and Nicole Kidman, but those folks at the GC were yahoos.

I had Thanksgiving dinner at the Canyon Cafe. I'm not sure there's a more appropriately named joint. Yeah. Visualize the Canyon Cafe, and you're pretty much going to be right on.

I also went to see Walk The Line while in Vegas. The actual movie itself was about a B, but Joaquin Phoenix was simply amazing, and Reese Witherspoon wasn't far behind. One of the better opening scenes in a movie, too. Check it.

One other quick note - they just built another Starbucks in Canton. The beauty? This baby is right outside the Safeway which has a friggin' Starbucks inside! I mean, I'm expecting to wake up one morning and find a Starbucks in my kitchen. It's coming, I'm telling ya.

Let's see ... I think I forgot to recap the rest of the weekend. Since I don't remember part of Saturday night, that might be kind of tough.

We started at Gecko's. Fortunately, we know not only the bartender but the owner at Gecko's. Needless to say, I left Gecko's having trouble seeing straight. We're off to a flying start! From there, we went to a bar in Fell's called Waterfront, which is actually pretty cool. A couple of friends were playing guitar there and doing some tunes. Luckily, I wasn't completely out of my mind, because the girlfriend of one of the friends tried to get me to sing a song, and I managed to say no. 'Course, the bartenders would've been happy if I had sang, because there would've been a stampede to get shots. I'll give you three guesses as to where I ended the night, and two of them don't count.

Sunday's highlight was seeing a guy with a metal leg riding a motorcycle ... my friend Ricky appropriately titled that his "kickstand". For some reason, this sent us off into gales of laughter. We're stupid that way. We also watched lots of idiots fight over their individual football teams at the Steelers/Ravens game. I think they were serving extra dumb sauce with everyone's game day hot dog.

Ok, so most of you know I"m going to Vegas this weekend. Fortunately, I have such good friends that they've all given me their opinions on what I have to do when I'm there. The wonderful part of that is, if I did everything I've been told to do, I wouldn't be back until the summer. So, here's a list of things I will NOT be doing while I'm there:

- Riding anything that makes me sick. That includes roller coasters, bungee jumping, and Richard Simmons.
- Eating at some fancy restaurant. I'm a single male in Vegas by myself. Why would I waste time with food?
- Playing roulette. Worst odds in the casino ... although ... women seem to love roulette. Hmm ...
- Sleeping. I'm still trying to figure out why I was stupid enough to reserve a room on Friday night, when my flight leaves at 7 am the next day. I tried to cancel the room for that night, and it didn't work. The funny part was, the reservation lady asked where I was going to sleep. Uh, single male, alone, Vegas, Friday night ... sleep?
- Going to a bunny ranch ... actually, any sort of ranch with an animal in the name. Bunny, armadillo, rattlesnake, etc. I believe in the Costanza theory on parking when it comes to women ... why pay for it when, if I apply myself, I can get it for free?
- Shopping. I'm still amazed that this was suggested. I think the next time I'm out with the person that suggested shopping, they might have to do a penalty shot just for the suggestion.

In other news, I think it's fantastic that Paris Hilton was given a new X-Box 360. I mean, if there's anyone in this world that needs to get some free stuff, it's her. Here's an idea ... how about giving her some anti-idiot creme for free? Actually, if they made that stuff, I'd fill up a tanker with it, head down to the local Wal Mart, and have an "accidental" tanker spill.

Anything that sounds like a cuss word but isn't is cool as hell in my book. Case in point - Fuddruckers. Get yourself real angry about something, then shout that. See?

One thing I forgot to mention about my buddy Damon's visit this past weekend ... he managed to eat all of the lemon Pez! I'm telling ya, life is beautiful when you have friends willing to do things like that for ya.

I love it when random folks from my past sign my website without any contact info. I googled your name, checked out the website ... ok, see ya! Odd. I'm trying a reverse Google on the latest drive by ... we'll see if I have any luck.

I'm pretty sure this week is on its 12th day ... it's going that slowly ... and it's a short week. Newman!

I watched a really sucky movie last night - Dead Ringers. It was supposed to be a horror movie ... the only thing frightening about it was that I wasted 2 hours of my life watching it. Ick. So, don't see Dead Ringers. My work here is done.

Phew! I stink! Ok, so I've done some experimenting and I have these two shirts that I wear to the gym that reek pretty badly if I don't bleach them. They are both colored shirts, so it's a little tricky, and I'm about as good at laundry as I am at not getting drunk on Friday nights. I guess it just would've been easier to say I'm not good at laundry. Actually, how friggin' hard is it? Put in the clothes, soap, and go. A'ight, never mind.

So, anyway, as I was saying before I managed to somehow interrupt myself - not a very useful or marketable trait, by the way - these shirts stink. Now, I'm sure you're first reaction is "Uh, dumbass, maybe it's YOU that stinks." Well, I can assure you, I don't stink. So there. I always smell like flowers. Problem is, I sometimes forget to put them in with the whites, and forget that I haven't bleached them. Today was one of those days. Luckily, I went in the spin room by myself, so few were subjected to the rank, cuz the rank was kickin', knowwhatimsayin?

I also like to go in there and sing along with songs on my iPod as loud as possible while I'm bikin'. If they were ever to put a camera with audio in that room, they could get some hilarious stuff. Today, I rocked the house to Incubus, Weezer, Foreigner, LL Cool J, and I even had the entire house singing along to Bryan Adams. Ok, the "house" was a crowd of people in my head, but it was pretty cool. Everyone was doing the Na Na parts and clapping in rhythm. Yup, I am a legend in my own mind.

So, my buddy Damon came up last night to help me get inebriated. I think I spelled that right. He also helped me get drunk. Damon weighs about 79 pounds wet, but he's a pretty good drinker. He's also Irish, and I'm pretty sure it's a requirement that all Irish people either (1) have red hair, (2) are good drinkers or (3) are good drinkers and have red hair. Damon doesn't have red hair, so you do the math. I'm pretty sure they all have to eat potatoes every day, too. I think I read that on a box of Lucky Charms or something.

So, being 1/16 Irish myself (explains a lot, doesn't it! Shaddap!), I decided we had to do the good Irish thing and go to Claddaugh. Ok, so I can't front ... I always go to Claddaugh. I also always go to Portside. Guess where we went after Claddaugh? Ya'll are some smart readers.

I also ran into Chrissy Hot while we were at Claddaugh. That's my little nickname for her. Her name is Chrissy ... you can probably figure out the rest. She goes to my gym, which I've renamed The World's Dumbest and Most Pretentious Gym. Eh, that's probably too big to fit on a sign. How about TWDAMPG. Perfect.

A quick aside about TWDAMPG. I hope I haven't told this story before ... if I have, pretend like you haven't heard it. There's a pool at my gym, which is always packed in the summer with the def hipsters that go to my gym. It's pretty much impossible to get a seat on the weekends unless you show up after the bars close the night before. So, this dude is re-building the area around here, and he built this hecka huge building right by our gym. The funny thing is, turns out it completely blocks out the sun at the pool. Completely. Like a solar eclipse with bricks and glass. Hahahahaha. Damn, I'm getting bitter in my young age, but I find that hilarious. What's not so funny is the yahoos at the gym are raising prices. I might not be long for TWDAMPG.

Anyway, so after Portside, we managed to get sucked into the pizza joint on the Square. I haven't the slightest idea what it's called ... all I know is that the pizza is great at 1 am when you're drunk, and it tastes like cardboard ass when you're not. Well, cardboard ass with sauce and cheese. So, I had a couple of slices of cardboard ass with sauce and cheese for breakfast. Needless to say, I feel GREAT right now. Might have to start drinking.

Ok, back later with details of tonight's silliness. On the card is Gecko's, Waterfront, and then probably ... gee, wonder where I'll go after that? Maybe Portside? Hmm. I believe I said shaddap!

Oh, and I just realized it's pretty much impossible to kick yourself in the crotch. I haven't the slightest idea why that popped into my head, but you better believe I tried it. No, I'm not on crack.

Hubba Bubba bubble gum. It's just fun to say.

So, I got completely hoaxed this past weekend. Some internet personality on a message board where I post faked her own suicide. A lot of people got really angry ... I actually thought it was kind of funny, simply because I got totally taken by it. Never let it be said that I'm not a complete rube ... and, yes, the main reason I'm telling you this is so I can use the word rube in a sentence. Sweet!

If you haven't noticed yet, it is butt ass cold outside. I might even have to stay in tomorrow night if this keeps up. Yeah, I know, that's blasphemy ... or something like that ... but I ain't huffing my ass 10 blocks to the bars and getting ice in my nose just so's I can get drunk and say dumb things to women. I can do that at home. Well, minus the women. Maybe I'll call some up.

Classic cat move. So, we have two cat watering holes in this house ... one in my bedroom, and one downstairs by the food trough. So, why is it that when the upstairs bowl is empty, Batman just sits by it and stares at it? I mean, either he's dumb as a stump, or he's too lazy to walk downstairs and get a drink. Probably a combo. He'll sit there for hours until I show up and magically refill it. And we all think cats have it easy ... hey, it's tough being that dumb.

I finished watching Vanilla Sky this week. Yeah, it's muddled and blurry, but I actually liked it. I even have this little thing for Penelope Cruz now, too. Just what I need ... another women to fawn over that I'll never even talk to .... not that I could understand her. I also realized during the movie that I've never slept with a woman with a Spanish accent. Yes, this is what I think about during movies. Plus, it's good to have goals in life, doncha know.

Speaking of that, I also watched Bound. If you haven't seen this thing, it's got the hottest woman I never talk about, Gina Gershon, in possibly the hottest lesbian sex scene in the history of the free world. That movie spent two days in my TIVO "save until I delete" area just because of one 30 second scene. I might have to take a shower after writing about it. I think the rest of the movie sucked ... I had trouble focusing after watching Gina put the Playboy Channel to shame.

The only Pez I have left in this entire house is lemon, so I'm thinking I should be safe for a bit. The dispenser sits on my desk, mocking me. It's there right now. It's this smiling pumpkin thing, and I'm tellin' ya, it's laughing at me. Friggin' pumpkins. The only good thing about pumpkins is turning 'em into pie. Ok, I don't really dislike pumpkins, I'm just bitter about having a cavity when I brush my teeth more than Tara Reid makes an idiot of herself.

I am getting hecka geared up for this Vegas deal! I leave this Wednesday, do Thanksgiving at this big, huge hole ... some call it the Grand Canyon ... then I have all of Friday to get myself into all kinds of trouble in Vegas. Last time I was there, I managed to meet a woman that wasn't a hooker ... which is apparently like finding a needle in not just a haystack but an entire hayfield. I come back Saturday, just in time to go out Saturday night in Baltimore. Wahoo!

Funny thing is, I was dumb enough to book a room for Friday night. Now, my flight leaves at 7 am. I called and tried to cancel the room for Friday, and the woman asked where I was going to sleep. My response: "Uh, I'm a single guy, alone in Vegas, on a Friday night. Why would I want to sleep?" Unfortunately, she wouldn't cancel the room without a hefty fee. Probably a Mormon.

'Course, I have this weekend to knock off first. The big highlight, besides the usual shenanigans on Saturday at the Square, is going to the Ravens/Steelers game. I haven't gone to one of these in a couple of years, simply because people can be complete and total idiots at a football game.

Yes, I'm a Steelers fan, going into enemy territory. I'm actually very respectful, but it doesn't matter. A couple of years ago, I walked in, sat down at my seat with my friends, didn't say a single word, and some yahoo in full purple Barney gear came running down from a few rows up and started yelling obscenities. He was immediately shown the door ... b-bye, dumbass, hope you enjoyed the 17 seconds of football you paid for. Moron.

We have some bake off thing at work tomorrow, like I need this. I've been mainlining sugar all week, and now they're going to fill our conference room with sweets. It's quite possible that I just mutate into a Cavity Creep tomorrow ... why fight it? If you can't beat 'em ...

I'm starting to really enjoy this slogan stuff. So, let's do some more!

Indiana ...

... only half of our state is flat and boring. The other half has hills.
... come for the corn. Stay for the ... uh ... corn.
... you haven't lost 20 pounds, we're just chubbier.
... I told you not to blink ... that was our state capital.
... it could be worse - you could be in Kentucky.
... thanks for driving through on your way to someplace more interesting!

Fun with text messages! From Friday night ...

Ha - there's a freak here in a banana costume. I'm very upset.
Since when are you not excited about 2 drunk chicks?
Dude, I'm 34 and I have a big margarita.
Beer pong at a bar? If I could bring my own cups, I'd love that game!
Someone learned me the el paso. I'm hot now.

Hmm. How about some text message slogans? Text messages ...

... when you're too lazy to dial.
... doing their part to help botch the English language.
... yet another way to fake looking important.
... Ladies! Set your phone on vibrate, lock the doors, and text yourself!

So, let's recap Friday. This might take a bit. Started out with some friends at Max's for happy hour. One lesson I learned here ... no matter how good a shot tastes, if it's huge, it's eventually going to suck. Also, if you're trying to decide whether a shot tastes like chocolate cake or Fruity Pebbles, you're probably drinking the wrong shot. I'm learning lots these days!

I managed to be lured away from a potential game of beer pong back to Canton Square by an ex. Lesson here? Exes are exes for a reason. Fortunately, Claddaugh's and Portside allowed me to recover from that blip on the night's radar. It also doesn't hurt to know the bartenders and give good tips ... you know, something more than "don't walk down any dark alleys alone" or "avoid sleeping with scratching women."

One thing I've learned - even when I know the bartenders, I still end up spending the same amount of money, because I give them ridiculous tips. I'm an absolute genius sometimes. Hey, a $15 tab? Here's $20 for a tip! Idiot.

Fortunately, Portside has returned to its former excellent self. It's basically like Teri Hatcher ... hecka hot at first, a momentary lapse of eesh, and now back to hecka hot. Good thing, too, because I was starting to worry ... about the bar that is. Unless she shows up at my door with a bottle of Captain and a case of Pez, I don't worry too much about Teri Hatcher.

Got up Saturday and started watching Vanilla Sky. I've seen it once before, but I don't remember it. I was either making out with someone or on crack the last time I watched it. I have a hard time keeping track of what I do when. I'm fascinated by Penelope Cruz. She's quite possibly the hottest women that I've ever seen that has no chin. It's uncanny. 'Course, the movie also stars Crazy Sauce, aka Tom Cruise. Watching him "act" is always fascinating - he plays himself so well. I'm only about an hour in, so I can't comment on the movie yet.

Yesterday, I went and bought a space heater for the house. I have oil heat, and in case you didn't know, oil is about a billion dollars a barrel right now. Ok, I'm exaggerating ... it's about a million dollars a barrel. In any case, my plan is to go with the space heaters this winter, at least until I accidently burn down my house.

The beauty of the space heater is that it's something new in the house, so the cats are wiggin'. It has this oscillating feature, so I'm sure when it's moving, it's like some sort of Loch Ness Monster type creature to them. It turns, it hisses and spits out hot air, and it's black. It's an electronic dragon! They get spooked and do the sideways turn with the big tail move, which never fails to crack me up. Eventually, they'll get used to it, but there'll be a good week or two of entertainment and big, fuzzy tails before then.

As for the rest of the weekend, it was fairly tame. RIP Kari ... you will be missed. :-(

Wanna know what is amazing to me? Well, there are a number of things - people that can do that whistle thing with their fingers, Charo's accent, three legged dogs that can still take a whiz - but this one is at the top of the list ...

Someone actually sat down one day and wrote these lyrics:

I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps.

I mean, there's brilliance, like inventing the airplane or chocolate milk, and then there's writing that tune. Wow.

Looks like it's slogan time again. I saw a bulletin where the folks of Baltimore are looking for a new one. 'Course, I have some.

Baltimore ...

... that ain't crack, it's powdered sugar. Wait, it is crack.
... allowing you to pee in alleys without getting arrested for years.
... if you lived here, you'd be hiding in your home by now.
... One million people, ten million teeth!
... now with extra hookers!
... where syphilis is a sport.
... don't worry, you'll never be bothered by paparazzi, cuz no famous folk come here.
... the world's only predominantly black white trash city.
... um, we're a little short on garbage cans - just use the street.
... that smell isn't us - we're downwind from New Jersey.

So, I got all kinds of information on Captain Crunch from one of my co-workers. Let's just say that the people at the Captain Crunch company have WAY too much time on their hands. 'Course, they could be writing dumb blogs ... hmm. Turns out that there's this place called Crunch Island, where they harvest stuff like Crunchberries. Personally, I think it's made up. Crunch Island? Whatevah.

They also have a pic of the Crunchberry Beast (also known as C.B.). Sadly, I even remember this beast. Basically, if you took the muppet Beaker, gave him a pound of weed and some snacks to fatten him up, and then gave him the chicken pox and an even worse haircut (like that's possible), you'd have the C.B. Yeah, that's my second reference to Beaker in a month. I'm quite proud.

The also had a pic of the Peanut Butter Elephant but ... eh, who cares ... peanut butter cereal totally sucks peanut dust.

Survivor was awesome tonight. Just sayin'. Oh, and Danni's hot. Just sayin'.

So, I happened to put on one of my crummier shirts for the gym tonight. Unfortunately, no one gave me the memo that it was Hot Chick Night at the gym. DAG! Seems the HCs have had a meeting, and they've decided to only go to the gym one night a week. Problem is, they won't release the schedule to the general public, meaning me. The rest of the nights, it's Jarhead City. I might have to pay someone for that schedule.

It's official. My love for Pez is rotting my teeth. I went to the dentist today, and I have a cavity. A cavity! I haven't had a cavity in a good 30+ years. I brush at least three times a day, use floss more than the cast of Baywatch, and yet I've got a cavity.

I'm thinking the Crunchberry Beast is behind all of this. There's probably some sinister group of cereal people out to mess with my teeth. I can see them sitting around a conference room table now - Count Chocola, Trix the Rabbit, Tony the Tiger, the Cocoa Puffs idiot bird, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, maybe even King Vitamin. Bastids.

Speaking of cereal, a couple of quick reviews:

Cookie Crisp ... I remember being in complete shock that I was being allowed to eat cookies and milk ... for breakfast! What genius thought of this?

Fruity/Cocoa Pebbles ... pour a bowl, then pray you don't get distracted for more than 2 seconds, or it's soggy city. The after-milk was fantastic, though.

Honeycomb ... Too friggin' big! I could only fit one on a spoon. Who wants to eat cereal one comb at a time? Jeez.

The Crunch family ... yeah, I could make the requisite rip the roof of your mouth jokes, but I ain't going there. Hmm. Actually, I'm not creative enough to think of anything else, so it rips up the roof of your mouth. Next!

Trix ... so they totally f-ed up Trix recently, and it's pretty much useless. I mean, I have no idea how you can screw up colored balls of sugar, but they did. Well done, marketing idiots. To top that brilliant move off, they'll probably have a commercial where the rabbit gets hit by a bus.

The Monster family ... you know, Count Chocola, Frankenberry, that nonsense ... never liked them. Whoever tricked kids into thinking those colored styrofoam peanuts they put in those cereals were marshmallows ... well, you didn't get me, sucka! Same goes for Lucky Charms.

Alpha Bits ... let's spell cuss words!

Woot! I just made myself a kick ass dinner. I did a steak with some teriyaki marinade, and some rice, also with the teriyaki zip. It was teriyaki night here at my joint. Well, actually, the furballs got the usual dry food, so they didn't take part in the festivities. I'm pretty sure they didn't notice. Cats hate teriyaki anyway. They also hate karaoke, and anything else that ends with -oke or -aki.

Ok, let's talk about Shoop. That's right, the song by ... who were those two chicks? Ah, Salt and Pepa. Now, Pepa was on the Surreal Life, and she's hot. I haven't the slightest idea if Salt is hot or not. If she walked up to me on the street and flicked me in the forehead, I still wouldn't know, although I would be interested. The point that I completely lost was ... Shoop ... WTF? I'm sure there's some hidden meaning to it, but it's been over a decade since that song was out, and I still don't have the scoop. For whatever reason, ol' Shoop decided to fester in my head for the last 3 days, too. Lovely!

Here's a question - what would I do with 190 million? Here goes:

- I'd buy the Pez company and eliminate lemon flavor ... actually, I'd buy the lemon company and eliminate it. Friggin' lemon.

- I'd buy an island for Andy Dick to live on with Richard Simmons ... I'd even throw in Paris Hilton so they can get some occassionally. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure they're both asexual. Eh, Paris could use a break from being a ho anyway.

- I'd buy Tom Cruise a new religion. Freak.

- I'd buy the Chesapeake Bay, and have all the water replaced with chocolate milk. Actually, that wouldn't be much of a change - it pretty much looks like that already.

- Oh, an even better idea for the Bay. I'd buy the Pop Rocks company, and have them all dumped into the Bay at once. Just to see what would happen, ya know.

- I'd buy my gym and kick out anyone who has a conversation lasting more than 10 minutes. Yappin' fools. I'd also kick out the jarheads who don't like to rack their weights, the yutzes that don't sanitize their machines, and anyone who wears a kerchief on their head. Basically, it'd be me and about 20 women left. Perfect.

- I'd buy the Cap'n Crunch company and have all the crunch parts taken out of the Crunchberry flavor. Crunchberries only, baby! I'd also hire a team of scientists to find out where the crunchberry is harvested, and buy that island.

- I'd buy Ricardo Montalbaum, and have him stand out in front of my house. Every day, when I came home, I'd pay him to say "My friends, I am Mr. Rourke, your host! Welcome to Fantasy Island!"

- Ah, let's face it ... who am I kidding? ... I'd blow all the money on buying the Playboy Mansion and figuring out a way to get Angelina, Lauren, and Sarah Jessica to the Mansion on the same night. Ya gotta have goals, ya know.

So, the recap of the weekend. Friday night was an odd one. I had it in my head that I was going to do something new, and I set out to do just that. I started out by procuring a bottle of the new Captain Morgan flavor, Tattoo (it's grape, just like Grape Ape!), managed to kill a fairly large portion of that, then set out on the city for my new adventure. Unfortunately, all of the new things I tried were all boring. Ok, take a deep breath and follow along:

Kiss Cafe, Gin Mill, Castaways, Max's, Slainte, Koopers, Waterfront, Gin Mill, Red Fish ... at this point, I got tired of trying to do something new, because something new apparently SUCKS. So, I finished off with this ... Claddaugh's, Looney's, Mama's, Colburn's, Cosmopolitan's, Portside, Colburn's, Cosmopolitan's.

Yeah, there's some doubles in there. I think I spent all of my lottery earnings, too. Yeesh. So, the lesson - never do anything new when the same ol' stuff is more fun. Count it. I walked into Gin Mill ... both times ... to the tune of not needing all of my fingers to count the number of people in there. I also walked by a bar that I have since learned is a sports bar and a hookah bar combined ... and here I could've swore that the worst combination ever was Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley. I've been corrected.

So, Saturday, I decided to do the regular rabbit noise. Started at Claddaugh's, which was excellent. Virginia Tech decided to allow Miami to break their foot off in VA Tech's ass, on national TV no less, so there were lots of Tech fans at Claddaugh, and they all wanted to buy me a shot. I'm not quite sure why, but who's going to turn down a free shot? Ok, in retrospect, I probably should've, but whatevah.

I had a little trouble seeing Portside as I approached, but I managed to stumble in. Inside, I managed to somehow walk right by the hot neighbor without seeing her, compliment a woman from the gym on the outfit she was wearing earlier at the grocery store, and tip the bartender 133% when I signed my tab.

The rest of the night is being filed away to protect the innocent ... and the not so innocent. Hee hee!

Sunday, I went to check out the movie Capote, which was one of the finer films I've seen in a long, long time. Just to warn you - it's incredibly dark and highly disturbing - but if Phillip Seymour Hoffman doesn't win the Oscar for his work in this, it's an absolute crime. I'm still a bit stunned at how good it was.

Also this weekend, the HN scored some major points by giving me a Pez dispenser, complete with strawberry, orange and, yeah, you guessed it, mofo lemon flavor. Eh, two outta three and all that. I even managed to load it without spilling Pez all over the place. I'm very proud.

This just in ... I'm a tad odd. I prefer eccentric, but whatevah. So, I'm in this class this week learning how to do Project Management. Believe me, it was as thrilling as it sounds. I'm going to try to make this story short, but it'll probably get long and suck and ya'll can bite me. Hmm ... come to think of it, maybe the class should've been Anger Management.

Anyway, so at one point, we're doing this thing where you assign people to jobs, and there's a point where you assign too many hours to one person and have to learn how to fix that in the software. So, our instructor made some joke about "Writer 1" complaining about having too much work ("Writer 1" being one of the people you assign).

Damnit. See, I told you this story would get long and boring. Feh, I'm too far in now. Anyway, so we're supposed to go to this graph part, and put a note in about Writer 1 having too much work. 'Course, that wasn't good enough for me. I wrote "Writer 1 is a wanker!", and highlighted it.

I know. It's not really that funny. But, for some dumbass reason, I found it hilarious, and nearly snorted water through my nose trying not to bust out laughing in the middle of class. It was quite the scene, man. I've always been a fan of the word wanker. File that away for future reference.

Other notes on the class:

- People, in general, are idiots. That's my conclusion, and probably the main thing I learned in class. If I had a dollar for every dumb question ... well, I'd have a lot of dollars but not THAT much money. Let's not get crazy here. Couple hundred bucks, though, all in singles. I'd have strippers following me around like stray dogs.
- I've perfected the technique for pretending like you're rubbing your eyes, yet you're catching a few quick winks. I also used the cousin of that move, where you put your hand over one eye, then switch.
- I've also realized that when you start dozing off, you sorta cross your eyes, and they're nearly impossible to keep open. Weird. I've also noticed the same thing when climaxi- ... um, never mind.
- It's a really, really, REALLY bad idea to have a big lunch then come back to class and try to stay awake. See the crossed eyes point above.

I managed to survive Halloween. I have a sweet tooth. Big time. I mean, you show me a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, and it's like showing Tara Reid an open bottle of tequila. Lots of slobbering, overt begging, and someone's getting laid. Um ... yeah.

I did, however, have 3 pints of frozen yogurt this week. The Safeway people apparently thought it would be hilarious to first put Haagen Daas on sale, then follow that up with a sale on Ben & Jerry's. Pricks. I'm quite the sight in front of the ice cream freezer, too. Face pressed up against the glass, tongue out, steaming it up. Think Tara Reid in front of a liquor store. Um ... yeah.

I watched the new Madonna video the other day. Yup, she's still hot. Jeez. I'm of the mindset that, at her peak, I would've been scared to death to have sex with her. I mean, I just envision being all ready to go in the bed, then her suddenly stopping, sitting up and doing the thing where you put your fingers in your mouth and make that really piercing whistle sound, and then the door opens and in walks:

- two male dancers
- a 6'2" woman in leather
- a cook wearing one of those cook hats (hell, I dunno where that comes from ... that's my head, and I can't help it)
- an entire video crew
- the paparazzi
- a donkey wearing a tutu

Let's just say that, amazing as it may sound, I might've passed on sleeping with Madonna. But she's still hot.

Fuhgedaboudit! That's right, I went to Philly on Saturday night. Here's what I managed NOT to do while in the City of Bro Love:

1) Say "fuhgedaboudit"
2) Do the Rocky run up the steps of whatever museum that is while humming the Rocky theme
3) eat a cheesesteak

What did I do? Hmm. That's a fine question that involves some explanation.

See, my boy Mark is who (whom? like I care!) I went to see in Philly. Now, Mark is 6'2" or so, looks like he's about 5 inches taller, and is Philipino. He's easily the biggest Philipino I know ... which isn't saying much now that I think about it, considering that the next tallest Philipino I know was a dude named Carlos Carlos (swear to God) and he was about 5'2". Mark also is pretty comical, we can have entire conversations just involving quotes from the movie Snatch, and he managed to acquire one of the better nicknames of any friend I know. We call him the Stallion. Why, you ask? Well, the Stallion gave himself the nickname in an email one time, and no one was brave enough to argue. I might have to try out that technique.

He's actually quite the cool cat, and I decided to pop up and have him show me the town. We hit a couple of joints, and had a couple of drinks. Ok, I had more than a couple, but who's counting? We also found one of the finer inventions in the history of the free world. No, I'm not talking about the telephone or electricity or something dumb like that. I'm talking about ... hold on to your seats and hats ... the new Cap'n Morgan flavor, Tattoo! Holy bovine, is this stuff awesome. It's like there's a party in my mouth, and everyone's invited! Woot! It's basically tastes like a grape Nehi. Tastalicious! Needless to say, I'll be combing the Baltimore hooch shops for this fine beverage before the weekend is here.

So, in the midst of all this hoochdom, I managed to notice a couple of hecka hot women in the Philly area. I had heard rumors about Phillychickians being hot, and the rumors are true. Now, the Stallion can be a good wingman. Key word there is can be. Hmm ... that's two words. Let's move forward.

Problem is, he has different priorities than me. Mine:

1) Women
2) Women
3) Booze

Stallion:

1) Food
2) Booze
3) Food
4) Food
5) Booze
6) Staying warm (he is Philipino, doncha know)
7) Women

Guess it doesn't hurt that he's attached and quite happy. Lucky Stallion! So, we're chillin' at this bar, and I'm trying to make eye contact with this mega hecka hot, and I'm also attempting to engage the Stallion in conversation. Unfortunately, about 20 minutes before, the bartender put a plate of wraps on the bar, which is within the range of the Stallion's peripheral vision, so he's pretty much MIA in any sort of conversation I'm having with him. Here's a general recreation of the convo:

Me: So, I think I've discovered the cure for cancer.
Stallion Thought Process: I wonder if those are veggie or if there's turkey in there.
Me: I'm thinking about getting a sex change.
STP: That certainly looks like turkey. I like turkey.
Me: I had a threesome with Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Connelly.
STP: Hmm. Are they free, or do I have to pay for one?

I mean, I could've been telling him that I'd won the lottery and we were flying that minute to Cancun to celebrate with Heff, Jack Nicholson, and the cast of Desperate Housewives, and he wouldn't have heard a word.

Fortunately, we did manage to procure one of the wraps for the Stallion. We didn't manage to procure the hecka hot for yours truly. Eh, 'twas my first real visit to Philly, so I should probably warm up to the city before trying to meet any women. Besides, the Stallion now has a new nickname ... The Wrap!

Friday was spent in the usual joints - Max's then to Canton Square. Since I had taken the entire previous weekend off thanks to my dumbass cold, I was primed to go. Unfortunately, the finest bar on the face of the Earth has suddenly become lame. That's right ... Portside has been taken over by dorks. I spent about 2 hours in there, scratching my head (among other things) and lamenting the loss of my old friend. I'm hoping it was just an off night but, needless to say, I'm having trouble sleeping with this in my head.

So, not only was I lucky to have a nice sinus infection last week and weekend, but I now have an extra added bonus - I whistle when I breathe! I'm tellin' ya, I just keep getting hotter each day. I was sitting in a class today, and trying to figure out why there was a draft in the window near me, when I realized the draft was in my own snout. Fabulous.

A story. Gather round, children. No, I don't have any Pez. Just sit quietly and pay attention. This'll be quick.

So, I used to work in this small office, and one of my female co-workers was talking to me and another male co-worker. She was telling us about how she had screwed up her ankle, and that she needed to find a brace for it. We told her to go to Dick's Sporting Goods to get one. So, after a bit, she walks out and into her office. We're putzing around, and suddenly we hear this from her office:

"Don't go to Dicks.com!"

Hahahahahaha.