Whiskey Ramblings

I don’t know about you, but I think whiskey is delicious. I am sitting here right now, at 12:45 AM, on my bed, in my pajamas, sipping whiskey. Wow.

But it’s probably the only liquor I can drink straight up. Vodka makes me want to fucking gag. Same with tequila, but I prefer it to vodka. I actually don’t mind jagermeister, but something about the taste just bothers me. But I love a good jagerbomb.

Jack Daniels is a wonderful thing. Now I don’t normally drink liquor by myself on weeknights, but today I was just in the mood. And then when you pour one glass, it’s hard to stop yourself from pouring another. You know how it is.

So my birthday is officially one week away. I’ll be 23. Twenty-three! Jesus Christ. There’s no way I feel like I am 23. I have the maturity level of a 10 year old, the mindset of 7 year old, and the abilities of a 5 year old. Those don’t even combine to form 23!

I am in serious trouble.

I was excited to turn 21, but that’s probably the last time I’ll ever be excited for my birthday. It’s basically all downhill from here. Maybe if I live to be 100 then I’ll be excited, because that would be pretty cool. But I wouldn’t bet on that one.

Alright, I really don’t have much more to say. Except happy Passover. I’m jewish, and I don’t even know what Passover is celebrating. But I did eat matzo today, so… yeah.

She’s Out Of My League

Okay. Let’s face it. When we’re out in some type of social atmosphere, and there are plenty of guys and girls around, we’re all judging each other simply with a glance. To an extent, everybody is shallow. There’s no denying it. No guy ever looks at a girl and says “oh, that girl looks like she has a nice personality!” Unless maybe if she’s like juggling or something. But I don’t know anyone that actually would juggle at a bar. And it works both ways.

The first thing you notice about somebody is their appearance. You make the judgment as to whether you like based on how attractive you find them. If you think they’re attractive, then that’s when you pursue and find out more about them. But until then, physical characteristics are all that matter.

That is what makes the bar scene so tough. I hate trying to hit on random girls at bars, because, well I’m realistic, I know I’m not bad looking but I’m not great looking either, and yet… every girl is waiting for fucking Brad Pitt to come and approach them at a bar. Anything less than that is unacceptable. Get real.

Plus I have no game. My pickup lines are: “so… uhh… you drinking a beer?!” Shockingly, not as successful as you think.

But anyway, that’s all an aside to what my original point was. Like I was saying, we judge each other based on looks, and that’s when the “1-10 rating system scale” comes in. You all know it. The hottest of hot equal a 10, while people that resemble John “The Elephant Man” Merrick would be a 1. Or even a 0 in his case. It’s easy, it’s simple, and it’s convenient.

Whatever your rating is, you can only stretch within two points on the scale. This is more of the rule of thumb for guys. So if you’re a 5, when you’re on you’re a-game you can get a 7. An 8 is really pushing it and is not all that realistic.

This scale is the easiest way to get your point across. When you describe a girl to your buddies you can say “Dude I met this hot chick last night… she was a solid 9,” and immediately they know what you mean.

Honestly, I’m not really a huge fan. But If I were to use this rating system on myself….like I said, I’m realistic… on this scale I’d give myself a solid 6. The farthest you can stretch on this scale is two points; so that means on my best day I can aim for an 8. This scale normally just considers appearance, but I think there could be more to it. For example, I like to think that I have a good personality and that I am a fun guy. What this means is that once you get to know me and experience this, I become a 7.

My theory is that personality really only affects the rating for a guy. If a girl’s a 9, it doesn’t matter if she has a shitty personality as for as the scale. But a guy’s rating can be brought down with a shitty personality. And if you are below 5/10 in both appearance and personality, then you just suck as a person.

However, fuck the rating system. There’s a lot more that goes into evaluating somebody than using a number based on physical appearance. In my mind, I’m a goddamn 10. And I’m not trying to sound narcissistic, cocky or like a “player,” I just know that I am a decent person. If I’m not good looking enough for a girl, then fuck them. And if they’re shallow enough to dismiss immediately based on looks then I don’t want to be with them anyway.

Forget the scale, and forget “leagues”. If you put too much thought into that, then you’re not gonna get anywhere. If you meet a girl that’s “out of your league,” just be yourself and don’t put them on a pedestal. If they’re cool than they’ll appreciate that. You want somebody to like you for who you are, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?

Alright, I think I got my point across. The overall lesson: don’t smoke crack.

Oh and this blog was inspired by the movie “She’s Out Of My League,” hence the title. Great movie.

I Love Breakfast.

Breakfast… the best way to start – and end – the day.

I love breakfast. Love it. Don’t get me wrong… dinner’s fun, and lunch is always a good time, but it just doesn’t compare to breakfast. You wake up after a lengthy slumber, and your stomach is empty. In my case, you’re probably hung over. Maybe it growls. That’s when you enter the kitchen and do your damage. Eggs, toast, home fries, bacon… maybe get creative and throw in some pancakes or French toast. And then top it off with delicious cup of coffee. Oh man, I’m salivating right now just thinking about it.

What’s the only thing that beats a morning breakfast? An early morning breakfast. And by early I mean 3 AM… when you’re shitfaced. I know people normally eat in ridiculous quantities when they’re high, but in my case, I do that when I’m drunk. I think I’ve said it before, but there is nothing better than going out for a night of healthy drinking, and then hitting up a diner afterward. That’s the great thing about Long Island… there’s always a diner around.

I’m become somewhat of a local phenomenon thanks to my eating abilities at diners. When I get my food, I usually eat everything on the plate within a couple of minutes. And I mean when I say I wipe the plate clean. Sometimes we go to the diner just because my friends want to watch me eat. And on the menu they have a delicious looking picture of a eggs, toast, bacon and home fries… so you don’t even actually need to order; you can just point!

But diners are great even when you’re not drunk. They’re cheap and normally serve you large portions. As for larger breakfast chains, I much prefer IHOP over Denny’s. Denny’s is crap. IHOP, on the other hand, has some of the best pancakes imaginable. They also have a nice syrup selection… and I think I’m the only person in the world that chooses the Buttermilk syrup. I have weird taste preferences.

I’m already premeditating what I am going to have for breakfast tomorrow. I think I’ll go with two eggs and cheese on a bagel. I cannot wait. I think that without question, I would marry any girl as soon as tomorrow that can cook a mean breakfast for me every morning. I like my eggs over easy. Not too drippy but not too hard either… that’s what she said.

I saw Hot Tub Time Machine tonight… very funny. I suppose I will talk about it tomorrow. Oh, and I got kicked in the head by a stripper on Friday. You can make whatever you want of that.

My Sports Teams Love To Tease Me

Tonight perfectly exemplified why I watch and love sports. There’s heartbreak, excitement, jubilation, and anxiety all in the span of minutes. I turn on my TV at 7:00 and start watching Syracuse/Butler. I have an intense hatred for Syracuse because the worst person I’ve ever met in my life is from there. So I root against them more than I root for myself to even make it through the day. Plus I had Syracuse losing in the sweet 16 in my bracket.

Butler got off to a hot start, but I didn’t think too much of it because sports rarely ever go my way. But, they went into the half up ten. I started to think it was possible. Then the game got tight, and Syracuse went up four with a couple minutes left. Inevitable… game over. But then something happened. The heavens opened up and God shined his ever glowing light on the Butler Bulldogs. They went on a huge run and beat Syracuse by 5. Pure ecstasy. Not the drug… but had I taken it, I probably would have felt the same way.

So, then I turn on the Rangers/Devils game. Rangers are down 3-2 late in the third and then POW! Chris Drury ties the game. It goes into overtime and then a shootout, and the Rangers win and pick up a desperately needed two points. Also, West Virginia beat Washington which I had in my bracket. For once, things were going my way.

That should have been the first indication that bad things were on the horizon.

At this point I referred to my bracket, and came to the realization that I can only come in first place in my pool if Xavier beat Kansas State. This is because there is a certain female being, I won’t give her name away for privacy reasons… so let’s just call her Melissa D. No that’s too obvious, let’s go with M. D’Onofrio. Anyway, she had almost an identical bracket as me, because we are soul mates and all. So the only way I could surpass her is if Xavier upset Kansas State.

Again, I was pessimistic. However, Xavier was playing a solid game and kept up with Kansas State (who, interestingly enough, play their home games in Manhattan, Kansas, nicknamed the “little apple” – look it up). Xavier miraculously tied the game up in dramatic fashion at the end of both regulation and the first overtime. I started to believe.

However, I should have known better. All my teams love to tease… but they just can’t finish. And I am left with sports blue balls. K-State won the game by 5, and my bracket is nearly busted. However, I can still win second place and get 100 bucks. I won’t complain about that.

So an evening that started out so promising ended up in bitter disappointment. But, at least I got to watch some awesome sports action. You really can’t put a price on getting to listen to Gus Johnson call a dramatic game.

It’s just what happens. My teams love to disappoint me. However, one day… ONE DAY… the stars will align, a lunar eclipse will shadow the earth, and the alphabets in my cereal will read “WEINGRAD,” and one of my favorite teams will take me to the promised land. It has to happen.

Oh well. So anyway, I worked four straight days this week. So this is what it feels like to be a real human being. All I’ve pretty much done this week is work and exercise. It feels fantabulous.

What does it all mean? It means that I am due for a long weekend of debauchery. Tomorrow night should be interesting.

Oh… and don’t you just hate when people only respond to your instant messages simply by saying “lol?” For the love of god, think of something more creative to say! We know you didn’t actually laugh out loud!

Obama’s New Healthcare Plan

I was just reading some of the finer points of Obama’s new healthcare plan. I know the majority of America has been waiting on baited breath as to what I have to say about it, and after heavily scrutinizing the plan, I gotta say… I think I am okay with it. Our country is in turmoil, and something had to be done. At least Obama is attempting something. Of course all the republicans are going to throw a hissy fit, but they would do that for anything Obama does.

Anyway, I am in favor of the new plan. Like I said, I read the entire thing, and there are a few points that I am particularly satisfied with. Here are few of them.

Section 6, Article 2: Anybody that enters a doctor’s office featuring a tape-up similar to Pauly D from Jersey Shore will receive free health care. I was a little baffled by this at first, but upon further thought I think it makes sense. Guidos live a very dangerous lifestyle… with all that time they spend tanning, they are very liable to get sun cancer. Or suffer from ill effects of radiation from all the time spent in tanning salons. It only stands to reason that they, more than anyone in this world, should receive free healthcare.

Section 9, Article 4: Anybody that can talk with a pirate accent can redeem full healthcare in exchange for 1/8 of their plunder. This is really a no-brainer. Can you think of anybody that lives a more difficult life than a pirate? Sailing the seven seas with nothing but the rest of their crew? They spend their time swabbing the decks, keeping lookout, and shooting cannonballs at other ships. Half of pirates are already missing body parts and have to disguise it with eye patches, peg-legs, hooks, etc. Plus, there is a gigantic scurvy epidemic among pirates. If anybody should receive free healthcare, it’s them. Considering how much buried treasure they find, I think 1/8 is a reasonable price.

Section 13, Article 5: People on Life Support must be able to tell at least six funny jokes and/or riddles in a day to continue treatment. This makes plenty of sense. What good do people on life-support serve? They’re wasting valuable electricity, only to be able to extend their life an extra few weeks. People spend thousands of dollars to keep their 97 year old grandma alive just so they could talk nonsense to them for a few weeks. Sure, there are plenty of movies that take place where the story is being told by the grandma/grandpa to their children while on their deathbed (Big Fish, Benajmin Button, Titanic… kinda). But that’s not real. Movies aren’t real… except 3 Ninjas, that’s real. So if you’re gonna waste valuable time and electricity, you might as well be funny. Six jokes must be told that are legitimately funny. There will be a judge present to determine that.

Section 16, Article 8: People that never get sick receive free health care. You should be rewarded by the fact that you never get sick. There way too many hypochondriacs out there that think they have every illness possible and spend their lives in and out of the hospital. Those are the people that ruin the system. Therefore, if you can prove that you’ve never been sick a day in your life, then you receive free health care. In fact, you should have to take a test to prove that you are physically incapable of becoming sick, like Bruce Willis in the movie Unbreakable. Then you receive free health care. And the majority of the government’s money should go towards this cause.

Section 20, Article 1: You must have at least one talent to even be eligible to receive health care. Let’s face it, if you’re not good at anything… you’re worthless to this world. So if you get sick, then it’s not really a big loss if you die. So you have to be good at least one thing… whether you’re good at a sport, cooking, math, singing, fire juggling, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, you have to prove it to a panel of judges that includes Emilio Estevez, Carson Daly, and the girl who played Julie “The Cat” Gaffney from Mighty Ducks. This is probably the most logical part of the healthcare plan.

So, when you focus on those five amendments to the plan, it is pretty hard to disagree with Obama’s new healthcare plan. I think that in time we will look back on this plan as the single thing that saved our country. Obama, I knew you could do it man.

My New Haircut.

Today I am getting a haircut.

I wish I had the ability to cut my own hair… but anybody who actually knows me will attest that it is probably not a good idea for me to consistently hold scissors within close proximity of my head. But here’s what I dislike about haircuts:

First of all, when did haircuts get so expensive? It costs me like 15 bucks just to get a freaking #2! They only use one blade!  It’s probably the easiest 15 bucks my barber will make all day.

Secondly… small talk. Oh god do I hate small talk. I prefer just to sit there in silence while he does his work and I just can watch in the mirror. But no, my barber insists on talking to me. EVERY TIME I go to my barber he always asks me the same question: “So you’re home from school?” I graduated 10 months ago and have had several haircuts from him since then and yet he still asks me that same question every freaking time. Then of course the next question: “What did you study?” And then when I respond ‘English’… he asks me “Do you wanna teach?” It’s like fuckin’ Groundhog Day every time I set foot in that god forsaken place.

Thirdly, my hair grows so freaking fast. I don’t even like shaving my head, but I do it anyway because it’s the only way I can stay away from the barbershop for a good month and a half. I get my hair cut and about a month later I have an afro. Ok, not really. And I shouldn’t even really be complaining considering some people would die to have a head of hair as blissful and full as mine… but it’s still annoying.

So when I get my hair cut, I don’t even like it for a week. But that extra week buys me more time. It has its benefits though… it takes me two seconds to dry my head when I get out of the shower. And I guess that’s really it. I wish I was one of those people that could grow out their hair for a long time and have it look good. That’s become a style over the last few years. I think Jim Halpert from the Office officially popularized it. The “unkempt, I don’t give a shit” look. But the longer my hair gets the dumber it looks. I wish I had curly hair.

A week after I get my haircut is when I like it. And then the “peak” is about 2 to 3 and a half weeks after a haircut. So if I have a specific event I want to look my best for, then I’ll get a haircut about two weeks before. In this case, my birthday party is in 18 days.

Maybe I’ll do something differently today. Bleach it blonde or something. When I was 8th grade I got blonde streaks in my hair and it looked pretty awesome. Or maybe I’ll get a tape-up and turn into a guido. I hate having to do my hair though. I haven’t put a single ounce of gel in my hair in eight years. Hmmm… maybe that’s why I don’t get girls.

Dear Liver……… Sorry.

Yesterday marked the third day in the last eight days that I drank for the entire day. Now I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that’s not too good for my health. But it was totally worth it. The first two times were Vegas on Saturday and Sunday (of course), and the reason I did it yesterday was because it was Irishfest at Rockville Centre. Which means… all day pub crawl. I couldn’t miss that.

Drinking all day always sounds like a bad idea in theory, and when you start drinking that first beer in the afternoon it always feels gross. But when you finally get into it, you’re gonna have a great day. As long as you do it sporadically, the days are always going to be memorable. Because the more seldom you do it, the more it stands out. When you start making a habit afternoon drinking… than you have a problem.

So Saturday was an absolutely gorgeous day. It’s like the Gods shined down on Long Island and said “My people… drink!” Perfect weather for a pub crawl. Don’t know what the exact temperature was but it felt like it was about 70. And the sun was shining in full force. Perfect.

Now I don’t know what exactly it was; the weather, the appeal of the bar crawl, or what… but I have never seen more attractive girls in Long Island before. Everywhere you looked there was good looking girls all over the place. That’s usually never case. I speculate that there simply were so many more people there due to the event that was taking place, and thus… more people = more pretty girls. Also, the weather was finally nice… so the girls didn’t need to be wearing eighteen layers to keep warm.  Whatever the reason was, it was a very pleasant surprise.

I know I mocked people that go out and celebrate St. Patty’s, especially when they’re not Irish… and those people were out in full force. Green shirts everywhere. I refused to wear one. In fact, I worse every color but green. Though I did wear a shamrock necklace that I earned after I paid 4 dollars for a jagerbomb.

So anyway, the bar crawl. Most of the bars were pretty packed, and it was fairly difficult to move around. But we finally got a prime position near the bar at RJ Daniels and started doing some damage. The thing to remember about bar crawls: It’s a marathon, not a sprint. You have to take it easy with the liquor early, because it will take its toll later in the day. Beer will get the job done. But it’s still fun to take the occasional shot.

After staying at RJ’s for about an hour we headed over to McFaddens, which is also the name of a popular bar in NYC. That place was much better. The beer was cheaper and there was a lot more space. We stayed here for a while and got super drunk. The highlights were: me taking my first ever Irish car bomb… it was absolutely delicious. Also when an actual leprechaun showed up at the bar and started pouring liquor out of a bottle into girl’s mouths.

I was also watching March Madness on the televisions in the bar, which made it even more fun. I blogged about my disastrous first day, when I lost more than half the matchups. Well since then, shockingly, everything has gone my way. None of the big losses (Nova, Kansas) really affected me at all. However, that was until Pitt lost today… that was my first final four team to be eliminated. Oh well.

Anyway, so the bar crawl was a massive success. By around 9:00, some of my friends were shot and wanted to call it a day. I, however, was just getting started. I hopped on a train and headed westbound to the city. I knew of a party that was going on and wanted to continue the good times.

The trend of good-looking girls did not stop. I also realized a great strategy for securing a second encounter with girls. If you have an event planned – in this instance, my birthday party is in 3 weeks – before you part ways you tell them of it and act like you really want them to come. It worked pretty well last night. Even after my birthday passes I can adjust it a little.

Instead of: “Oh by the way… My birthday party is in a couple weeks, you should totally come!”

I’ll say: “Oh by the way… I’m going out to dinner… by myself… in a couple weeks, you should totally come!”

Could work…

I’d say there wasn’t really one specific time throughout the day that I was overly trashed, but I had a very consistent drunkenness going. I took it easy at the party in NYC, especially considering how much I spent earlier the day. But I drank so much that I really just needed to nurse a few beers to stay nice and drunk.

Here is a brief dialogue that took place between my friend and I last night that showed how drunk I was…

My friend was wearing a shirt that only had one sleeve, so one of her shoulders was bare… I don’t know what you call those since I know nothing about fashion. But I walk up to her out of nowhere and say “Hey, your shirt is missing a sleeve!” Which isn’t even that funny to begin with by the way. In response, she just looks at me and says: “That’s the third time you’ve said that to me tonight.”

But it was a good day. My wallet took a little hit… but you can’t put a price on fun. Caught the 2:37 train home, arrived at my house at 3:50 AM… it was a great day. And made a few new facebook friends to boot!

March Madness

For sports fans, March Madness is the equivalent to waking up on Christmas morning as a child. There’s nothing better than getting to watch 16 college basketball games in one day, especially when you fill out a bracket for it beforehand.

What makes these games so great is the intensity and passion that the players play with; because up until this point in their lives they have never played on a bigger stage. Also, the possibility of an upset… this is the reason why mid-majors get into the tournament. We want to see the 15 seed take down the 2 seed. It’s the true David vs. Goliath story.

I’ve literally sat here all day and have done nothing except watch college basketball. It is extraordinary.

On that note, my bracket is already fucked. I’ve managed to lose four sweet sixteen teams and an elite eight in the first day. As of right now I’ve only got 6/14 correct today. However, most of the time I start out well and then fizzle out, so maybe this year it will be the opposite.

I mean bracket pools are a freakin’ crapshoot anyway. You got guys that watch college basketball religiously and then spend eight hours filling brackets while studying team schedules, statistics and expert opinions. Meanwhile, you pool ends up being won by your friend’s little sister who picked the winner of each game based on what mascot was cuter.

Nonetheless, it’s an awesome time of the year. Especially the first four days. You’re gonna get some great games and even better finishes.

They don’t call it March MADNESS for nothin’.

The Most Overrated Day of the Year

St. Patty’s Day = Amateur hour.

What is supposed to be a holiday to celebrate Irish heritage suddenly has turned into a festive celebration for all douchebags to congregate together and make fools of themselves. Suddenly everybody thinks that it is a cool idea to get up and start drinking at 10 AM, and then act like they are the shit. And I’m sure that by 2 PM they are passed out on the street somewhere.

St. Patty’s day is probably the only day of the year where I have no desire to drink. I don’t drink because a holiday tells me too, I do it to go out and have fun. But because of douchebags that suddenly think they are Irish and sport green shirts so that they could conform to the other douchebags, anywhere you decide to go today is going to be ridiculously overcrowded.

Give me a random Friday night and I’ll outdrink any Irish wannabe on that goes out on St. Patty’s day. You don’t see me going out on Puerto Rican day and getting hammered for no reason, do you?

“Oh yeaaa, it’s St. Patty’s, that means I HAVE to go out and drink as much as I can because it’s the cool thing to do! Wooooooooooo!” Way to a walking cliché.

I’ve never had a good time on this day. I remember last year St. Patty’s was on a Tuesday, and I went out to a bar for my beer-pong tournament that takes place every Tuesday. The bar usually doesn’t get too packed on that day since it’s the middle of the week, but because of the “holiday,” it was crowded with assholes. Makes me sick.

And on that note, I gotta get going because I’m going out for St. Patty’s day. Call me a hypocrite.

VEGAS BABY

After Two long flights, a broken knee, a 67 ounce beer, several poor decisions on the roulette table, and about 750 dollars spent, I have returned from Vegas.

I never got around to posting a blog before leaving to share my expectations for the Vegas trip… but if I had, there would have been eight references to the movie “The Hangover,” fifteen mentions of alcohol, nine mentions of strippers, one mention of me saying that I’m gonna try not to gamble, and topped by saying there are at least 5/1 odds I won’t make it back alive. Now if only I put some money down on that I would have actually won a bet.

Anyway, the trip easily met all of those expectations. Unfortunately, no one slipped any roofies in my drinks at any point, but other than that it was a pretty adventurous and eventful weekend to say the least.

Gambling-wise I actually didn’t do too badly. End up with a net loss of only like 10 dollars, which is essentially a win in Vegas. Roulette is supposed to be 2/1 odds, and yet I lost all 3 bets I made on it. Fuck that game. Lost about 30 bucks there, Lost like 15 on my game “The Big 6” which features a wheel-of-fortune-type wheel where you bet on the odds, but won three of my four sports bets to make about 35 bucks back. Of course the one bet I lost was on the Knicks. Not only did they play their best game of the season, but their best game of the freaking decade… even when that team wins they let me down.

So let’s run down the trip. I kept a running twitter-blog throughout the course of the weekend; you can see that on my twitter page with the username DDubbs87… should be pretty entertaining.

Ironically, we were there for Goldberg’s bachelor party, and yet he was almost killed before we even entered the plane. As we we going up the escalator he was craning his head over the railing to see something. Finally he pulled his head back, and upon doing this he realized that he was inches away from a barrier that prevents people from falling over. Had he pulled his head back 2 seconds later, he may have been decapitated. That may have put a damper on the trip. The rest of us wondered aloud that had Goldberg been killed before we boarded the plane, would we still have gone to Vegas without him? the collective answer: probably.

So our flight there was delayed about two hours, so by the time we finally were able to check in it was about 2 AM Western time… so needless to say we were pretty exhausted and didn’t do much the first night except walk around the hotel a little. However, the travel agent apparently screwed up our rooms, so what at first seemed like a major debacle ended up turning into awesomeness because we were upgraded to three luxury suites. Fuckin’ awesome. That definitely set the tone for the trip right away.

Second day, after a little bit of walking around we started drinking early in the afternoon. The shitty thing about Vegas is that nothing is cheap; if you can find a $6 beer somewhere then that is a good price. However, as we were walking the strip, we found a bar that was serving alcohol in the biggest quantity I have ever seen… 67 ounce mugs! That’s about six beers in one! And it only cost 20 bucks! And it was free refills! By the time I finished that I was absolutely hammered. We found an outdoor bar that had blackjack tables and live music, and I as was standing there sipping my 67 oz. beer with all of my friends I remember thinking that life cannot possibly get any better than it is right now.

The best part is that while we were enjoying beautiful weather, back in New York there was 35 MPH winds and torrential storms that caused several power outages. We could not have gotten luckier with the timing of the trip. Because today it’s back to being beautiful again… so we completely missed the shitty weather.

Anyway, after I got a refill I stumbled back to the bar and saw that my friends had wandered away. Fortunately I found Mike talking on the phone. For some reason we wandered into the corner of a clothing store and set camp there for about twenty minutes for some odd reason. After that, we went on a quest to find everyone else. This is not an easy task to do when you are wasted and in a city where you have no idea where you’re going.

So we went back into the bar where we got our 67 ounce beers. I left Mike at a table while I went to the bathroom, and when I got back he was passed out at the table. There was also a girl sitting next to him that I’m pretty was checking on him because I’m pretty sure she thought he was dead. After that, we found out everyone else was a hotel called the Venetian… so we made our way towards there.

However, we must have gone the wrong direction at least ten different times. It literally took us about an hour and a half to find it. I’m fairly certain everybody thought they would never see us again since we were gone for so long. That entire time from about 4pm to 7pm was a complete and utter blur and was easily the drunkest I was throughout the entire trip. However, we finally found everyone. That’s when we did some more gambling. Drunk gambling is fun at the time, but not when you check your wallet after.

I was playing the “Big 6” game, which is where they spin a wheel that has 6 different numbers on it, with the smaller numbers (1 and 2) being more prevalent. You bet on what number you think will come up, and if you’re right you win the odds. For example, if you bet $2 on 5 than you win back 10 dollars. It’s a good game because you can bet low and it takes a long time to lose your money; unlike blackjack or roulette where you can lose anywhere from 20-100 dollars within minutes. Usually I bet conservatively, but at one point I remember being bold and putting 5 dollars on 20. As the wheel was spinning, my eyes widened as I saw that landing on 20 was a distinct possibility. And I’m not even kidding, if she spun the wheel with one extra millinewton of force, it would have landed on it and I would have won 100 bucks on one spin. Unfortunately, it literally stopped right in the middle, and ended up landing on 2. I distinctly remember putting my head on the table after that. I was not happy.

Apparently, while I was doing that, Goldberg suddenly became a minor security risk while playing the Deal or No Deal game. Supposedly he meant to push one thing and it selected another for him. He complained about it and floor mangers came from all over thinking he was trying to cheat. They ended up giving him more money for the game which I think he went on to lose anyway. I’ve been told that I wandered over towards the end of that, but I have zero recollection of that occurring.

The rest of the night was devoted to dinner, more gambling, and then a late night trip to the strip club; a necessity for bachelor parties. I won’t detail what occurred there. In this case I will stick to the code; what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Day 3 we slept a little later as we were finally adjusted to west coast time. This was the day of “the accident.” We had a nice buzz going because we were drinking fruit smoothies that were loaded with alcohol (kind of). So that was definitely partly to blame.

Alright, so you know how your parents always told you NOT to run the wrong way up an escalator? Well, they had a pretty good point. I was 95% of the way up when somebody finally approached it looking to go down. That’s when I tried to rush and I attempted to hop 2 at a time. Not a very good idea to jump steps when you heading in the opposite direction to begin with. I promptly missed the step and my knee went directly into the corner of the step where the metal grooves stick out. Immense pain. I tried to walk it off until I realized that I was bleeding through my jeans. That’s when I had to seek out hotel security to get it bandaged once a random lady told me that I may get tetanus. But at least everybody got a good laugh out of it. Although it did impede my walking ability for the rest of the trip, so in hindsight, it probably was not a good idea.

This all happened shortly after another funny incident. We were standing around a blackjack table, and Seth – not really paying attention – stepped backwards onto somebody’s foot. When he turned around he realized it was an old lady in a wheel chair. Here is the conversation that followed:

Seth: Oh my god! I’m so sorry!

(Lady in Wheel Chair, also wearing sunglasses, says nothing)

Lady that’s directing the wheelchair: (stares at Seth) She’s deaf.

For the rest of the trip, anytime we saw somebody in a wheelchair we joked about it… which officially makes us horrible people.

After all that we did more wandering and occasional gambling. Seth, who was definitely drunk, put down 2 dollars on a horse called “Booger Street” because it had 35/1 odds. As we were watching the race, Seth turns to me and gave me some wonderful insight into the world of horse racing, and also one of the better quotes of the trip:

“You wanna whip it a lot because when you whip it it goes faster.”

Although Booger Street did exceed expectations and finish in third place, it was not good enough to win Seth his money. But a valiant effort indeed. Anyway, we finally didn’t all reunite as a group until around 8:00. That’s when we met in one of the rooms and started drinking in the hotel. During this time, Seth passed out on the couch. And I mean passed the fuck out. We did the works, putting beer cans and boxes on top of him, and even put his hand in a glass of warm water. Finally we woke him up and he started uttering incoherent blabber towards us.

After this we headed to a New York themed hotel to hit up a club. The club was slightly underwhelming… I didn’t get a drink because I didn’t feel like paying fifteen dollars for one. Plus there were only three girls dancing that were by themselves, and groups of guys literally went up to them every five minutes. So I did not feel like being cliché.

Lastly, we headed back towards the casino to gamble for the rest of the night. AT this point, the fact that I had not eaten for 12 hours began to take its toll, and I wandered off to search for a place to find food. I finally did, and I enjoyed what at the time felt like the greatest meal of my life: 2 eggs over with white toast, bacon and home fries… with a bud light to wash it down. After that I finally met back with everyone else.

Another funny moment ensued when Goldberg’s friend Jeff, apparently hitting the ultimate peak of frustration with the combined fact that he was losing tons of money in blackjack and that he had ordered a diet coke an hour ago and still hadn’t received it, finally lost it and subsequently stood and up and the top of his lungs screamed “WAAAAAAAAIIIITTTREEEEESSSSSS!” The floor manager immediately came over to make him stop, and the waitress, reasonably pissed off came over and finally took his order. There’s no chance that she didn’t at least spit in his drink, if not worse.

We finally went to bed that night around 6 am and got about four hours of sleep before having to wake up, pack, shower and check out.

Monday was a long day full of traveling. Luckily our plane suffered no delays, and despite Mike’s threat to explode the plane, – which he proclaimed through the airport’s Wifi service and was extremely fortunate not to be labeled as a security threat – we made it home safely.

Man, what a weekend. As much as I hated to leave, I was looking forward to not having to keep spending money excessively. But it was well worth it. My first trip to sin city was definitely a success, and despite a knee injury that will probably linger for at least a few weeks, it was probably one of the best trips I’ve ever had. I highly recommend that place. It’s crazy because everybody was blatantly drinking from open containers while walking the strip, and not only did no one get reprimanded for it, we didn’t even see a single cop the entire weekend. You could probably kill somebody on the strip and get away with it. On that note, no wonder they never found the dude that killed 2pac.

Despite no encounters with Mike Tyson, no drunken marriages, and no tigers in the bathroom, we had pretty much just as good of a time as the dudes from the Hangover. I didn’t exactly fully stick to the code of “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” since i posted everything here, but I at least had enough sense not to mention the hooker we were forced to bury in the desert after…

whoops, I said too much.