Cream

I caught a large portion of Cream's Reunion on PBS the other night. It was good...although, at times, I did get the feeling that they were "mailing it in". I really can't complain, though...Cream's "mailing it in" is better than 99.9% of any other bands out there. It's fascinating to watch the onstage interplay between Clapton, Bruce, and Baker (they're all astounding musicians). They could've showed more close ups of Claptons hands as he played...pretty cool stuff...I can watch a great guitarist for hours.

Alcohol Inhalers??!? Where have I been?

Do I really need to imbide alcohol any quicker than I ordinarily do? Apparently so. I would've love to have been around when this idea was conceived. "Funnels, keg stands, shotguns...No, not fast enough. I want to BREATE pure Vodka!!!" Here's how I see it: If you feel the need to literally inhale your tequila, you're probably going to get wasted one way or another, regardless of what the government tries to ban. If the tried and true methods of social drinking (i.e. imbibing a few beers, a few shots of vodka, two or three mudslides, topped with a Jack shooter, followed by an embarassing night for you and your friends) do not meet your needs, then I think it's time you raise the white flag, march your ass into AA, and declare yourself what we all knew you to be in the first place....AN ALCOHOLIC!!! Talk to me when you get to step 9...because you ruined my fine knit cashmere sweater back in 01'.

Of course, there are always other ways to party.

Stand-up Bit...

HTE called me the other day to bounce a new joke idea off me. Awhile back, HTE and I started writing stand-up comedy routines, but neither of us have taken the next step and "gone live". Mine's VERY hacky (did you ever notice?...who are these people?), and needs a lot of work, but I'm going to paste it here anyway:

Have you ever noticed that companies these days try to fit in every single racial/minority category into their advertising? Macdonalds is the worst. Their placemats look like they were designed by the United Nations: They've got a black customer walking into the store, a Hispanic girl at the register, a 95 year old man washing the floors, an Asian woman cleaning the windows, a mentally retarded kid spraying the lettuce, and a deaf/mute American Indian working the drive thru. I mean C'mon, do I really need to know how to sign Navajo just to order a Big Mac these days?? I've got an idea, why don't they figure out how to make my fries taste like they weren't boiled in ass, THEN we'll work on the whole "World Peace Thing", OK?

Did you hear that Macdonald recently shut down all of it restaurants in Bolivia? I didn't even realize that Bolivia had the infrastructure to support a chain of McDonalds? Quite frankly, I didn't even know they had paved roads in Bolivia, because I've never been there. Maybe they don't?!? Maybe people were swinging from vine to vine just to get there. Of course, that's probably why MacDonalds decided to leave...have you ever seen a greasy fatso try to swing from a vine?

Have you ever had one of those really awkward situations where you run into an old girlfriend or boyfriend, and you try to impress them with how wonderful your life is since their gone? "So...how have you been?" "I've been super...I'm dating a lawyer" "Things are going great....Sally is a model". Have you ever wondered what that must've been like for Ghandi's ex-girlfriends? (Indian Accent) "So Asha, how are things going for you?" "Oh...things are great....I'm dating...(awkward pause) Jesus."

All men think about is sex. All we think about are the many permutations of how we can siutate ourselves where we MIGHT POSSIBLY POTENTIALLY be able to have sex. It's in our systems, and we can't control it...it's ingrained. For instance, the other day I was walking down the street, and I saw the hottest blonde I've ever seen coming the other way. When she passed, I thought to myself 'Man, I bet those legs go all the way up!"......WHERE DID THAT COME FROM??? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Wouldn't it be horrifying if her legs DIDN't go all the way up!! You take her home, you have a few drinks, things get hot and heavy, she takes off her dress, and she has 2 real feet and a pair of fake legs! "My legs don't go all the way up".

I tried to spice things up in the bedroom the other night, so I told my wife I wanted to try doggie-style. She said "Sure", whacked me in the face with a rolled up newspaper, and made me sleep outside.

I couldn't afford a laptop, so I invented the crotch-bottom. I can now read my email from anywhere in the world, but I refuse respond because I don't want to touch the keyboard.

I installed a dog whistle on my vacuum cleaner. My floors are clean, but my lawn is destroyed.

Treo pics #2: Vegas + Football Beer = 1 drunk Hag

Ok, so here are a few more old Treo pictures. These are of my first trip to Vegas (2/03)....the lights, the money, the over-the-top glitz that IS Vegas. The guys went out for the night, whilst my wife and my sister-in-law went out on their own, and so we decided to visit Ole' Vegas. What could be better than playing $2 craps next to crackheads at the Golden Nugget (not kidding)?? Ball, Harding, Hags the Elder (HTE...my brother), and The Hag (me). There may have been more people there (Fischer, Mallow, perhaps), but everything gets a little hazy once my foot leaves the cab and hits the curb (uh oh...).

So we went to one of the old casinos (I think it was the Golden Nugget) and played $2 craps for what seemed like an eternity. HTE craps out first, than Harding...Ball and I were in it for the long run. By that, I mean that we weren't losing EVERYTHING, and we ended up drinking like fish for free for quite awhile. By the time we left, I think both Ball and I had actually won ~$60.

Now we get to the point in the story where The Hag makes a crucial error in judgement. I saw a random guy walking down the strip with a GIGANTIC plastic football filled with what appeared to be some type of alcolholic beverage (testing later concluded that it was beer). Said gentlemen directed Ball and I to the "bohemoth football-sized libation" vendor. And there, at the door of the casino, was the sign that read something along the lines of "$1.99 48 ouncers". Here's where logic goes out the window: Why in the world would I PAY for something that I can easily get for free (AND pay for something that will go fetidly warm within minutes)??!?!??! It was that damn football, I tell's ya'! It was calling me...mocking me...questioning my manhood. So, with a gleam in my eye, I ordered my football...my golden whale (A'vast, ye mateys...beer ho!).

After 1 minute, it became clear to Ball and I that this was an unwise purchase due to the fact that 1) as I mentioned, these suckers got warm fast, and 2) the only way to drink out of the football was via a straw. 10 minutes later, footballs were completely consumed. 20 minutes later, I was completely schnookered (I was a stumbling mess). We met up with TStach and her sister at Harrah's, and that's about all I remember for that day...EXCEPT:

-Playing catch with the football
-I remember a woman selling shirts with pictures of cats on them, and I believe it was either Harding or HTE who said something like "Nice pussy" or something along those lines. Laughter ensued.
-I remember HTE making the comment re: "The Ayatollah of Gorgonzolah"
-Harding shouting at HTE "Dance, Monkey, Dance!!"
-I remember returning to the rooms later that night and kicking a room service tray (and all of it's contents) down the hallway. Ug..why did I rehash this nightmare?