Vegas, Thank Citibank( and I should too)

Well, it seems yet another year has gone by and with that comes another trip to Vegas, another chance to look back and say, "Wow that was ridiculous," "Where are my pants?" "Whose pants are these?" (no literally, I seem to have packed someone's pants in my bag, although Paul described my packing style as "goblinlike" upon leaving, so I guess it is not a complete shock I ended up with someone's else's crap in my bag). So, with another Vegas trip comes another semi-half-demi-quasi awful recap of the events.

First some admissions on my part:

1)I was drunking most of the time. Drunking you see, is like drinking, except without all those pretenses of later on saying "Wow! How did I get so drunk?" When drunking, you know what's coming to you. And, as I remarked to Paul and Darrell on our epic journey right after my arrival (more on that later), "It's like I want to experience Vegas all at once...I want to be drunk, I want to be gambling, I want to inappropriately dine only on snack wraps...." Then I took in a real deep breath and choked on some gas fumes.

2) Everyone else was drunking too. So, the recounted stories were about as good as the ones you hear in the short term memory loss ward about what happened a few minutes ago. (Zing. Oh yes, zing)

3) Vegas ruins all sense of time. There are always people up and about, always people having fun, and even more strangely I am convinced both by the new skin tone I have and by seeing it at all times, the sun is literally always up.


So, I arrived in Vegas on Thursday evening after one of my more brilliant and lucky acting performances in a while. I had decided before work on Thursday that I would feign sickness early on in the day in an attempt to get sent home early. Also, in prep for calling in sick on Friday, I had done pretty much all of my Friday work, so I was not that bad of an employee. Anyways, upon arrival on Thursday, my boss asks me how I am doing and I reply, "Oh, not so hot...." and she tells me she too has an awful headache...which I then retort, "Oh, me too...it's like there's a vice on my head..." So, throughout the morning, I act lackadaisical, and eventually around one, get sent home. So, I rush home, grab my stuff, jump in my car (which in prep for the suite we had this year, and due to me driving, I had stocked with 96 beers and 4 handles of liquor), and speed off to Vegas.

I arrived, pulled into the parking garage of the MGM and, using the defective part of my brain, which I am sure would have made me an awful caveman, pulled into the furthest parking spot away. Seriously, the thing went up to Row Q, and I parkedin Row Q, applying zero effort to park any closer. I have noticed this other times too, like when going to a store or movie, I leave whatever venue I was in, and realize I have parked really far away. So, I call Brian's phone, which is answered by Darrell, find out where the room is and grab the box of liquor and begin the trek. And yes, it was a trek. Also, everyone staring at my box of liquor all must have been Vegas first timers....come on people, you do some drinking there no matter who you are.

I finally made it up to the room and it was everything I imagined it would be...well, pretty much like you would think a suite would be...two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room area, a bar, and even a decorative artifact and some fake plants. Once in the room I saw D, Brian and Paul were awakening from naps and Danny was there too. I enlisted Darrell and Paul to come with me to my car for the 96 beers. And thus it was an epic journey. The about Row Q was it did not seem so bad walking towards it, especially empty handed, but the seemingly half marathon journey back with pounds of beer in coolers was not as fun. I guess I should have thought about it.

Back in the room, everyone else began to roll in, and the drinking began....and before the 12 of us went out that night all 96 beers were gone and a good deal of the liquor gone too. It was like whoa. Or something. Then our large gentlemenly crew headed down to Studio 54, the club in the MGM. And by gentlemenly, I mean we kindly would approach any group of women and say something extremely friendly. It was like watching National Geographic specials at times, but sometimes I was not sure if it was more one of the mating specials or one of the hunting ones, or one of the weird ones about insects.

Personally, I stayed in Studio 54 for about 45 minutes as the whole club scene only works so much for me, and plus when I notice that during my attempts at "dancing" if I am either falling over or pulling someone over with me, it might be time to stop the dancing, and the guys that just stand around at these places not dancing are actually a tad creepy. So I made the incredibly wise decision to go gamble. (and I know many are thinking...NO...you were so drunk you doubted your standing abilities and now you want to go throw around money???) But that's just the odd thing, for some reason I am pretty okay at blackjack...probably all those days of my youth playing with Dad for pretzels...sure I never stop soon enough when I am up, but I always be able to win some money. So I throw down my $100 at the $10 a hand table and began playing. I have no real strategy except to win...and most of the time I just would play the $10 hand, but sometimes I would feel it was time and throw out some random, way too large amount, like $260...and win. It was incredible. At one point I was up $1300 on my $100....but then I kept playing and playing and losing and losing....but by the time the dealer shut down the table, I had made it back up to $500...so I got a fine $500 chip and went back up to the room. That was nice.

The next day we wake up, we all start drunking before going to the pool then eventually head down. I went to cash out my winnings and told everyone else I would meet them poolside. However, I wanted to win some more....and stopped and played a little more 21 and won $100 more...which I decided was adequate. Then, the pool. Some stuff happened, it was crazy, it was ridiculous, there was beer flowing readily, everyone who walked by was spoken too, and so much of an impact was made that by Saturday at 6am a girl saw Brian and me and said "You were at the pool," here voice dripping of disdain. We were confused, but whatever. I left the pool a little before everyone else to...yes....go gamble. Long story short, I cashed out about an hour later with $1,100 worth of chips, and walked back up to the room beaming, and once there obviously gloated about my $1,000 chip and let see it and stuff. As I had only put down $100 of my money the previous night, I was pretty happy.

This was the night that was actually dedicated to Adam's bachelor party which Brian had setup...and he did a pretty damn good job...a strech Hummer limo was to pick us up, take us to a strip club, then later take us to Rain (or Pure...I am not really sure...some one word named uber-trendy club) where we would get to walk right in, which is tough for any large group of men to do in a Vegas club.

So, in a moment of hindsight being even better than 20/20 for something I should not have done, I went and cashed in my chips before we left on this escapade. I remember being very giving at the strip club for all in the group...and then we went to Rain/Pure/Whatever, I disliked it off the bat, got lost trying to leave The Palms for about 45 minutes, and the next morning, I had $3. I do know for sure I did not go gamble, because even when drunk, you remember doing that because it requires some focus and usually takes up some large periods of time. I made it back up to the room, where security had to let Adam and me in since we did not have keycards and we had to verify some objects in the room before they let us in....here was what I said, "I have a blue adidas bag straight ahead from the door....and ....and a Christopher Walken t-shirt in it! Yeah...Christopher Walken!...." They verified and let us in.

The next morning I went to use my "temporary" ATM card Citibank had furnished me upon opening my account, but for some reason they still had not gotten me the actual one I needed, and I discovered that good old temporary card had expired. So, no big deal. I know those cash advances on credit cards are foolish, so I was done gambling. Drinking was not a problem since we had so much liquor in the room...but then everyone enjoyed a fine laugh at my expense...or some disbelief. How had I spent $1200 in one night....the best theory was that some lucky cab driver got a great tip for resuing me from the Palms. But, at the very least, I only really lost $100...and even paid Brian $200 towards the room costs...

So, Saturday was yet another day down at the pool, although on this day we spent much more time in the party pool then the lazy river. And I must say things got a little out of control. But not for me. I wwas wasted alright, but every girl there was not putting up with me. Maybe because someone got the fun idea to tell some people that I was a Make a Wish recipient and that this was my wish, or maybe the fact that I was being loud and irreverent most of the time.

We left the pool and I was...ummm...decidedly tired. I passed out on the floor, at one point woke up shivering, then later woke up in a blanket, then later woke up in a bed, until finally I was ready for the world again around 3am....and ready to go out. So, Brian, Mike, Todd, Nick, Danny and myself were wandering around just looking for anything fun in the vicinity. The most we did was talk to some girls eating McDonald's in the food court for a while...and once I had another beer I realized I was literally full of beer and done drinking, and actually pretty tired...so by 7:30 we went back up to the room and things were done. And I finally realized I had the pleasure of driving home that day. Ouch.

Obviously many more things happened, but until I get my reality TV show, no one can really be too sure about what they are. But at least too many groups won't picket against me before then.

TIM's RULES OF LIFE 1-17 COMING LATER IN THE WEEK

BYAH

You and the captain make it happen

After the Cubs acquired Jason Kendall yesterday, and I read the many articles regarding this trade, and spoke to all my sports fiending friends, the general consensus was that the Cubs had made a decent upgrade from Rob "I'm Not a Real major League Baseball Player, I Just Play One on TV" Bowen and Koyie "Oh shit, my first name is Koyie and people unwittingly think I am a young catcher prospect when I am really 32" Hill, they were decidedly right. How unfortunate is it that when a team acquires a guy currently hitting .224 with no real pop left in his bat in a decidedly popless career, that there is some excitement? But, Kendall has been hitting a lot better since a dismal April, he was ranked #1 in catcher's ERA in baseball, and the National League has always been an easier league to hit in then the American. So, I am excited, especially to have a player who, in video games with old Pittsburgh Pirates teams I used to switch to #1 in the batting order.

As I continue to work on my first screenplay, I continue to, even as a person who speaks on numerous occasions everyday, struggle with writing dialogue in a more natural way. For some reason, I become like Kramer of Seinfeld fame when he is attempting to act and become decidedly unnatural and proper. None of my other writing comes out in proper English with good grammar and punctuation, yet when I shift to writing dialogue it is like my writing has had the Henry Higgins treatment. Here, look at this dialogue:

TIM: Oh no Logan! It seems we might be late for work! What are we going to do if we missed the entire meeting?

LOGAN: I am not quite sure, Tim. Maybe we can try using a different entrance entirely to the building!

This dialogue would work great if I were writing a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book, which I think were secretly written to force grammatical correctness and quick changing life dynamics on children (as well as the effects of consequences...how I always ended up getting caught by the police in the neighbor's basement no matter what Choose Your Own Adventure I ever read, I will never know). But I am trying to write one of those movies that on the surface sucks, is not critically acclaimed, but people love to watch and own, and eventually drinking games are invented to correspond with it. So, when I get out of the writing zone and have to go back and edit all the dialogue because it has a lame factor of approximately 12 on a 10 point scale, the process is quite arduous. I guess I should try speaking it out loud before I write it instead of afterwards.

This past weekend I took a rapid trip to Chicago to surprise some of my homies and to see as many as I could. It was a great time and I have already realized that Chicago and all its boasting about being such a great place is not really that far off. (It also might have something to do with the great number of friends I have there, but hey, many are FROM there....) That being said, I have begun more and more to think of this LA experience as just that, a grand experience, sort of like a study abroad trip within the country, where I am going to try and do as much as I can and accomplish what I feel like I need to accomplish, but at the end of the day being close to a multitude of friends and a quick drive away from my family might seem like a better place to be. And I know what you are thinking: "Isn't this some sort of harshly formed opinion when you have not even been in LA tha long?" "Have you been poisoned?" "Why was Ghostbusters 3 not as celebrated of a Nintendo game?"

-I am a man constantly engaged in thought about many things and there are not too many times I just chill out and stop thinking, and I think that this experience will be great and lend me many new perspectives, but at the same time this is not a crazily formed idea. But, I'm gonna ride it out and see what happens. Just like I don't want to choose at this moment what I do for my 30th birthday, that would not even make sense (as I am only 24).

-Nope, no poison that I know of.

-The world had already moved on to Super Nintendo and Sega and therefore even though Ghostbusters 3 really could have taken off on the Nintendo as it had so much more then its predecessor Ghostbuster Nintendo games, Sonic and NBA Jam had taken over in a significant way. (And no, I have no idea if there even was a video game for Ghostbusters 3, I'm just saying)

Leave some comments, and I'll leave you some comments, and then you can leave me some more, and then next thing you know we are married with a third child on the way. It's science.

Live every week like it's shark week

As Tracy Jordan of 30 Rock tells Kenneth the page, "Live every week like it's shark week." For those of you not familiar with shrak week, which I assume is no one, I will let you in on what shark week is: a week long worth of prime time programming on the Discovery channel devoted entirely to sharks. So, if you are into sharks, shark week is a big deal, I guess, and you live life all exictedly or something. My sister Eileen was really always the shark-o-matic lady in the fam, so I never really got fired up about them but still sometimes spout off her wisdom like, "Oh no, this water is far too cold for sharks." (Note: If you ever hear me say this, I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. We might be about to venture into Tiger Shark infested waters in the Indian Ocean and I would say this to ease your mind. I always just looked at the pictures of sharks in her books, never really paid attention to the facts.)

As nbc.com offers pretty much all of their shows for viewing on your at home or local library terminal computer, they also have recognized the need for advertising during these programs. The thing is, it seems that the advertising techinique employed is that of brainwashing. Each 30 Rock episode, for instance, is split into 3 or 4 parts, and before each part loads, the same ad will air for that episode. By the 4th time I see the exact same Cingular commercial within a 20 minute period, I do feel semi-brainwashed and think to myself, "Man, Cingular really HAS been raising the bar." A few seconds later I find myself in a trance like state looking at Cingular cell phone plans, before I snap back to Earth and realize why I am with t-mobile, and it has very little to do with the 2 year contract extension I just got to get a phone for cheap (after losing my other one in a puddle while I was "napping" in my backyard), and much more to do with the fact that all contractholders get to, ya know, do as they please with company spokeswoman Catherine Zeta Jones (and it does take a moment to get over the whole Michael Douglas thing, this is true, but then you remember your cell phone bill and the lovely lady in front of you). All I can say is thank goodness nbc.com does not play cult propoganda during their shows.

After the freshly completed third week of work at my new job, I have decided, I am simply do not enjoy working. While some people might counter, "Tim, you need to find something you like," or "Tim, you have always been a good worker," or even, "Tim, eating raw bacon is not a good call." I hear you. But, I really would much rather be unemployed. And it is not a matter of motivation or a hatred of working, I really do not mind doing so, I would just rather not be doing it and instead sit around working on "screenplays" (reading Far Side cartoons). So, here are some Pro's and Con's of unemployment"

Pro:
Seldom set an alarm clock to wake up in the morning.

Con:
Lose sense of time on a day-to-day basis.

Pro:
Basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt are acceptable attire.

Con:
Basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt are acceptable attire. (I don't see many non basketball players wearing these clothes and getting a lot accomplished)

Pro:
Everyday, your own agenda.

Con:
No regular paycheck. Suddenly that daily agenda is a lot more limited.

So, as you can see, there are the plusses and negatives, and I only hope to either a) steal all of the gold from Scrooge Mc Duck's room of gold or b)marry a really rich older woman on the threshold of death. Or I guess invent Jell-O or something. Although I guess since I wrote that sentence that someone beat me to the punch with that invention.

Oh well, it is what it is. The first screenplay is finally in progress. That being said, if I could focus more of my time to this writing craft, and until I get better at it, living in California works just about as well as living in Chicago, Canada, or Madagascar...it's all about devoting the time. (just kidding about that Canada part...that would suck balls). I am glad I have come to that realization, and maybe if I can have some discipline, I can move somewhere cheaper and with less consistent weather (really this day after day sameness is freaking me out).

HOLLA

Even the milk turns chocolatey.....fuck yeah

As I spend another delightful night sitting around doing such fun activities as: eating baby carrots, watching episodes of 30 Rock, reading every word on espn.com, researching Peru while on the phone with Melissa (don't ask), trying to make my back forget I have been sleeping on couches for the last month, drinking water, pondering life in the Arctic circle, and researching how hair grafts work, I constantly have to remind myself of my mantra. "You chose this life. You chose this life. You chose this life. You chose this life." And even I must admit after the sixth time of saying it or so, it makes me laugh, because hey, when you repeat any word or phrase it just starts to sound like made up. E.T. style alient talk.

I have been doing some writing, and reading about writing, and watching youtube videos about writing, and learning Braille so that I can feel about writing, and listening to written works as read by former Cheers castmembers (if you get a chance, pick up The Stand as read by George Wendt((you know him as Norm!)) so that I can try and find my muse so that I might too write something other than a blog read by somewhere in the ballpark of 12.7 people (Actually I have no science to apply to knowing how many) and wonder why no one has offered me some cash up front to write a pilot or something. Then I figured it out: while I am in fact, pretty goddamned funny, I need a lot of people based humor...witty, sarcastic verbal barbs tossed into conversation, jabs about other people that are around, commentary on commentaries...that kind of stuff. That being said, I am not saying the fountain has run dry and I have nothing to write about. The fountain is actually needing of a larger bucket and some sort of disinfectant for the ladle everyone uses to get the water out of said bucket, since I have 24 years of life experiences and characters.

Today at work, for the first time ever in my life, I had a thought of a joke that could be used in some sort of standup act. And, since I do not foresee a standup act ever being my sort of thing, I thought I could go ahead and share my "bit" with you:

(while dressed semi-normal, yet with something ridiculous on, like some denim chaps)
"You know one of the things I always most looked forward to about being a standup? Dressing like a hobo who lived near an outlet mall that discarded haute fashions....You know what I'm talking about...remember that multi-colored number Sinbad always used to wear? And heaven forbid you get a special on HBO...think Chris Rock....ultra-shiny suit. When is ANY...and I mean ANY other occasion when you would glance in your closet and say, 'Man, I should totally pull out those denim chaps.'.......(points down) Ooooohhh yeahhhhh. I guess everyone says this (points down again, disgustedly) is how stadups seperate themselves. Grand. A guy with crappy jokes and a feather boa hookup is going to take over."

Reading it, pretty okay. But that is why I am not forcing my hand and trying out standup. Especially with a one lame joke routine.

Alright, I will bless everyone in the next couple days with some actual humor.