"Don't cum on me"

So it's just a little after midnight and we're still out on the town. Right now we are at the Imperial Palace Karaoke Club, Hootie is about to get his singing on. We always seem to end up here.

***The rest of the post***

Whoops, looks like I went and hit Publish Post before I had finished writing it. And I'm sure there's more than a few folks out there who are quite confused by the title of this post, especially after reading the first paragraph that did nothing in the way of providing enlightenment.

(As you might be able to tell, I've found semi-usable wifi and am able to type the rest of this post on a physical keyboard, not that the iPhone wasn't holding its own in a pinch.)

OK, let's recap Saturday the 17th picking up at 12:01am still on the town from Friday night. We were hanging out at La Scena at The Venetian, which is where we met up with Basement Boy and his buddy Barry. Basement Boy (BB for short) was actually at Bettyfest with us and we loved him so much that I was so excited when I found out that he'd be joining the festivities this time around. Bettyfest was so off da hook that there was no way that I was going to try to compete on a weekend of that caliber so we sort of just went where the night took us. And that meant hanging out, listening to a crummy band (seriously, the sucked hard), and getting just a wee-bit tipsy from the bevy of beverages. Hooters and I had decided early on that we were going to follow our single alcohol rule, vodka to be specific, but early on it was clear that wasn't going to happen. One thing led to another and suddenly, and this is still a bit hazy, it's like 3-4am and I'm suddenly feeling the effects of mixing alcohols and need to find a bathroom and quick. Stumbling into the mens room I'm soon bowing before the porcelain throne, praying that what comes next will be quick and relatively painless. As I'm waiting to puke my guts out, and for the record, this only makes 3 times in my whole life that I've been sick from drinking, some girls come bursting into the mens room and hunker down in the stall next to mine. One of them is giving the other one tips for surviving the binge drinking they've been doing and that was enough to coax my stomach to relieve its contents. "Atta boy," the advice-giving girl next to me trumpets. Solidarity. Good times. Somehow I managed to escape from getting any on me.

Did I mention before that this is going to be a loooong post? No? Well, you'd better get comfy 'cuz this is going to take a while.

So I stumble out of the bathroom, pretty sure I washed my hands too... I'm white trash, but very sanitary thank you very much. When I get back to the La Scena it's closed and I don't see anyone I know. Hooters, Hootie, BB, and Barry are no where to be found. So, like anyone in my totally wrecked condition would have concluded that they've gone back to the hotel, I trot off in the direction I think the exit to Las Vegas Blvd is. No idea what happened next. All I know for certain is that when I woke between 4-5am, someone (I assumed Hooters) was in the bed next to me and fell back asleep. And this is where it gets a bit ironic, every single one of us ended up going to the restroom within minutes of each other and when everyone came out, they couldn't see anyone else and each tried to find their way home. Hooters ended up walking close to a mile just trying to cross the damn street. Hootie ended up going and playing slots and was nearly taken advantage of by a lady of the night. BB ended up in the basement of his hotel with security threatening to count to three if he didn't leave the basement. Barry was probably the only one of us to make it back safely and with most of his memory intact. During all of this, Hootie and Hooters ended up having a great text conversation, a transcript of which I'll post soon.

Fast forward (your welcome) to 1pm on Saturday afternoon and Hooters and I are just finally waking up. We probably would have slept longer, but the phones kept ringing and ringing. The person on the other end? Howler! And she was hungry. Groggily I picked up the phone to hear "FEED ME!" on the other end. And when you here that, you best do as she says. Hooters and I do our best to pretty our still totally wrecked selves up and head to the MGM for a very late lunch at Wolfgang Puck's Bar & Grill. The food was good but the service was way off. We didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the server suggested just replacing the buns of a incorrectly prepared burger, or when they brought us decaf coffee when the regular stuff was just a few minutes from brewing.

Jumping ahead again finds us at The Flamingo to watch the Second City improv troupe perform. Hootie had the hook up and got us in for practically nothing. I've never seen them perform anywhere before, but I was expecting they'd do more improv with audience interaction rather than so much seemingly scripted material. Don't get me wrong, it was great time and I found my sides hurting by the end. The title of this blog is actually one of the lines from one of their best sketches. We've been repeating it all day, it was just that memorable. And, Rob Belushi, if you happen to be googling yourself and stumble across this blog, I'd just like to add that you are totally hot. TOTALLY hot. We made eye contact a few times during the show and I felt something, some sort of connection... and it couldn't have been from the drinks at the show... they were WAY watered down. So if you'd like to see where our brief visual encounter can go, comment below!

Ok, that's enough of that and it pretty much brings us up to the present at the karaoke club at IP. Hootie had his eye caught by a hot little number that apparently just returned from a tour of duty in Iraq. Let's call him Cockeye (the inspiration for which came from the name of a restaurant at IP). That boy had quite the ripped body, and Hooters was actually able to get him to pose for the camera. (Sorry Cockeye, I'll still take Rob hands down.) And yes, I'll post all the pics that are PVA (post-Vegas approved) this week.

And now I need to get to bed. We fly out on Monday, which is technically the day I'm updating this. See you tomorrow!

Three random things

Seriously, these are pretty random. I put some hardcore brain power into how these might relate and only ended up with a headache and new wrinkle in my forehead. Let's just dive right in…

#1. Last night I had the tremendous pleasure of going to see the national tour of Avenue Q. For those not familiar with this multi-award winning Broadway show the easiest way to describe it is Sesame Street meets South Park. Or how about full frontal puppet nudity. Oh yes, they go there and you're glad they do. And did I mention it's a musical? Get a sampling of what you're missing by not going to see it the next time you're in New York, or London, or near any of the cities of the current tour, by checking out their official website or by listening to the songs of the show on iTunes. With the stresses of work and home weighing heavily day after day, it was really nice to get out and just have a really fun evening. My divine date for the evening was Hooters of Bettyfest fame. She didn't really know what to expect when the show started but after the first couple songs she was hooked. A Friday night watching puppets get-it-on on stage = good times.

#2. I feel ever so slightly ashamed to admit that after hunting far and wide for a Wii, that in reality I'm barely using it. I think the roommates have clocked 20x the hours on it that I have. (I just wish they'd remember to turn it off after a half-baked session of tennis.) But at the not so recent E3 conference a new accessory was announced that has once again reignited my interest in playing with my Wii. The Wii-Fit will be hitting store shelves in the coming months with the promise of helping people do even weirder body movements in front of their TVs. Check out the official video now:



Now I know what you're thinking, "What that video needs is a narrator." And you'd be right. Check out below what someone out there on the interwebs came up with to solve this problem.



Brilliant! Say it with me…good times.


#3. This last one, well, I'm not sure what to say. Part of me thinks it's a hoax. But the other part of me—the nerd part—thinks it's fucking awesome. Kathy Griffin—whom I find hysterically funny—is rumored to be dating the one of the biggest geek icons of all time Steve "Woz" Wozniak. My jaw hit the floor when I stumbled across this on Gizmodo. And since you can't believe everything you read on the 'net, I went to one of those Apple fanboy-type sites for confirmation. I can only hope that he'll be on the next season of her show. That would be some seriously good ti–er, good television.

Please don't give any "Milk" money to Cinemark, Century, and CinéArts theaters

Some of you out there on the interwebs may have read recently that Cinemark CEO Alan Stock made a nearly $10,000 contribution to the Yes on Prop 8 campaign. You remember that campaign, don't you? The one designed to, if passed, to take away the rights of same-sex couples to marry. Well it passed. I still can't believe that it did. I honestly thought that my fellow Californian would care at least equally for the happiness and rights of humans beings as they do motherclucking poultry. I was wrong.

Well, in just a few days, "Milk", the film about California's first openly gay elected official, Harvey Milk, a San Francisco supervisor who was assassinated along with Mayor George Moscone will open in theaters. [trailer: HD | iPhone] And guess what chain is ready to reap the financial rewards for showing this much anticipated film? That's right, Cinemark. It can't be denied that "Milk" will draw a large audience from the portion of the population that is gay. But hell if I'm going to let any of my money ultimately end up in the pockets of a person who doesn't believe I should have the same rights that he does.

So I ask you, the moviegoing people of the world, regardless of your orientation, if you go to see "Milk", please do not see it in a Cinemark theater, or any of its subsidiaries. The third-largest theater chain in the U.S. also operates theaters under the name Century Theatres, CinéArts, and Tinseltown. Please avoid these theaters if at all possible.

"But Kenny, how can I easily find a theater near me that isn't part of the Cinemark brand and putting money into the pocket of Mr. Stock?" Good question! Please check out the NoMilkForCinemark.com and BoycottCinemark.com websites for tips and alternate viewing locations. In the San Francisco Bay Area I highly recommend AMC Theaters (their projection and presentation quality tends to be far superior to that of Century and CinéMark anyway), Landmark Theaters (the best place to see the best in independent film), and, of course, the world-famous Castro Theater (which you might just spot me and Hooters standing in front of as extras during the filming of "Milk").

The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Kenny Ray

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Life imitating art imitating other art. No, that wasn't a typo. Here's how it went down…

A recent phone call with Hooters (the person, not the place) inspired me to break out my Camp DVD and enjoy another viewing of it. The lead actor, one Daniel Letterle, was just so — and I know this is going to sound even gayer than I want it to — intoxicating that I ended up googling to see if he'd been in any more movies. Fortunately he had a couple follow ups and so I loaded up my Netflix queue and waited by the mailbox. With the amount of quality TV running thin these days (can't believe it's still almost 5 months until Lost returns with new episodes) I've been working my way through my Netflix queue pretty fast so in almost no time I opened my mailbox to find "The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Ethan Green" waiting for me. It's a low-budget (in a good way) film based on the popular comic strip of the same name. A comedy peppered with hunky guys was just what I needed to keep me pushing out of the funk I'm in, but in addition to the laughs, the sighs, and the "holy six-pack abs" I found was a wake up call.

Smack dab in the middle of the movie Ethan has a little walk and talk with him mother (played so gloriously by Meredith Baxter of Family Ties fame). Ethan has been steady downward spiral and Harper (his mom) finally levels with him. And me. This is what I heard…

Consider for a moment that you're having the Kenny Reflex. You get close, and then you pull back. Kind of like a rubber band. Just when you have something good … you do something to sabotage it. That is the Kenny Reflex and you've been doing it all your life. You're afraid of getting close, you're afraid of what you're going to hear, you're afraid of what you've got. And you are going to live in this little box of fear unless you change. Get some courage, darlin'.

I got called out. By a character in a movie. A movie based on a comic strip. Maybe it was because the lines were delivered by Mrs. Keaton, er, I mean Meredith that it made me pay attention. While certain semi-recent people have definitely deserved the boot because their part in the relationship had become toxic, she was totally right. I live in a box of fear. Fear of rejection. And, this is where it gets weird, fear of acceptance. That last part is way too deep for me to get into right now as the ear ringing is back and tearing my brain in twain. But it's giving me a good deal to think about over the next couple weeks while concluding what to do about the "glum chum dilemma."

Go rent or buy Camp and TMUSLOEG, both are very enjoyable flicks! Besides, supporting independent cinema is good karma.

Goodbye, Cinnamon Hole... Farewell, Sticky Buns...

See you soon, "You wanna woooman?" woman. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Woo! Ah, so many memories, so little money won. Actually, no money won. Damn, Vegas was a total bitch to me. But having Hooters, Hootie, Basement Boy, Barry, and surprise guest appearance by Howler more than made up for it. In fact, I would say that I hit the jackpot on this trip.

And now we're off to the airport. Back to the grind tomorrow. Until next time...

What's the big 'deal' with Vegas?

Like what I did with the title? Deal… like in poker… as in gambling… pretty cleaver, huh? Yeah, well, they can't all be funny.

So I'm finally fully recovered from Vegas. Can't say that everyone else who was there is yet. Maybe it's just a case of Vegas withdrawals. The Bettyfest trip was a highlight of my life. That's right, I said LIFE. Ok, so I'm still in my early mid-thrities with my "whole life" ahead of me, but seriously, it's going to be hard to top Friday night at the HOB Foundation Room, followed by a visit to OGs (both down and up stairs) where I helped to change at least one person's life, and then meeting a lovely Scottish groom-to-be named Steven wearing a kilt [NSFW] and black leather corset who let me chomp on his ball gag [NSFW]. Yeah, that was just our first 12 hours in town.

But the real highlight wasn't so much the drinking and debauchery that took place as it was getting to drink and debauch with the people I was with. Being around Betty, Hooters, Whisky, Jack D, Hootie, Q, and the famous Joe Speaker—who, by the way, is like way hotter than anyone has a right to be—was the real jackpot of the trip. It would have to be, because I gave away all of my actual money playing poker, the slot machines, eating amazing food, buying dress shoes (AND a $50 belt that I could have picked up at the local Wal-Mart for a five and change) to get into clubs, and stuffing the crotches of damn hot (yet suspiciously homophobic) male strippers dancers. Bet you thought I was getting all sentimental there with all that jackpot talk, huh. Don't second guess the K-Ray. The sugar high from the box of Tagalongs® I polished off an hour ago has faded and the bitter coldness of reality is setting in again.

Plus we just had an earthquake.

To wrap this up, allow me to share some very important lessons learned in Vegas:
1. Stick to the same liquor the entire time and you can function on barely any sleep
2. Even strippers have standards
3. I finally understand how blinds work in Texas Hold 'Em
4. Hootie can sing like no one's business
5. While life takes Visa apparently Joe will only take off his shirt for American Express

Good times… good times.

What's a guy got to do to get friggin' Internet access in his hotel room?!?

I touched down at SFO at 9pm and the had to drive home last night to meet with and pay the contractors. As luck would have I'd, I didn't even have wifi at home because they had to disconnect everything when installing the new bamboo floors. Wait, did I already post about that? I'm so tired from my travels that I can't remember now. Anyhow, I barely made it back to the airport thus morning to get my tired ass to Vegas. Ended up flying Southwest -- I hate Southwest, and now they have some fucked up new line-up to board system that is just beyond lame -- but the flight wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, and surprisingly very little turbulance landing.

We're staying at TI, which is decent, but the Internet access us so hit or miss (and it's mostly miss) that I'm still posting from my iPhone. Not sure what the plan is for tonight but right now Hooters and I are going to get breakfast... at 3pm. It's going to be one of those trips I think.

I <heart> sushi

Being that I'm white trash, I know this sounds odd. I could eat sushi ever day. I don't know how or why I came to have an almost insatiable appetite for (mostly) raw sea life, but I don't really care to find out. The stuff is just gooooood. It's always a little disappointed to find out that others don't like it—though I think it's because they've never tried it or never had really good sushi—and do my best to try to convince them otherwise. Heck, once we found a place that will use soy wrappers in place of seaweed-based wrappers even Hooters found she loved sushi!

When I found out that Guitar Hero was going to be in town and that he loves sushi I had to get as many of the BettyFest 2007 players together for a mini reunion of sorts. GH should have been with us in Vegas but as sometimes happens, things just didn't work out. After determining that the BF crew has a universally loved sushi place we set the date. That date was today and I'm writing this after returning from it.

Many of the major players were there: Whiskey, Jack D, Guitar Hero, yours truly, and Betty. Wait. Betty wasn't there. Betty bailed. Betty flaked. Betty has very good drunk-texting skills which has us questioning if she really was too wine-soaked to drive. (Love ya Betty, but I have to give you a hard time 'bout that one.) It was great to see the guys again. And it was especially great to see GH. There's just something about him that you can't help but want to hang out with him. He's just a really special guy. Down to earth, funny, enthusiastic, and cute as a button. I think he's kind of the male equivalent of Q. Ok, ok, I'd better stop singing the praises of GH before my power-top, Whiskey, gets jealous.

Well the sushi was excellent, the guys were a blast, and the night was over far too quickly. We'll have to do this again sometime. Soon. And in Vegas, we need to get GH to Vegas.