Take it back say it's not what you thought

Last night I stayed at a friend's house. This morning we went to breakfast. When the server brought the bill we each handed her a card and asked her to split the bill down the middle.

Me: I think mine was a little bit more than yours so I probably owe you a dollar or two.

Friend: How about you just don't jizz all over the sheets on my guest bed and we'll call it even.

Me: Uh. It might be too late for that. You should've told me last night if that's what you wanted.

See our friends, see the sights, feel alright

I went to Vegas this weekend. I didn't tell any of my friends I was coming. I just surprised them.

When I saw Girl Who Won't Be My Girlfriend, she grabbed my arm and said, "I really have missed you."

I said, "Really? I've mostly just missed your boobs."

She shook her head and said, "You're a dork."




This is why I'm single.

When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor

Last week while administering an exam, I got a phone call from one of my friends. Obviously I didn't answer. A few minutes later I got another call. Then a text. I figured it must be important, so I took my phone out of my pocket to see what was going on. Turned out that they had a suite at Planet Hollywood for the weekend, but weren't going to be able to use it that night. They wanted to know if I wanted it. Of course I did, because, hey, free suite.

It turned out to be the Sharon Stone suite, with a bunch of memorabilia from various movies starring her. There were a bunch of pictures of her on the walls, outfits she'd worn in various movies displayed in huge cases around the suite, and coffee tables/end tables with glass tops and props from her movies, including her cigarette case, the ice pick, the lie detector machine, etc. from Basic Instinct. It was kind of cool.

I took a bunch of pictures, but something was wrong with the lighting in the room, my camera, or both, so none of them turned out and you're going to have to take my word for it since the pics below don't do it justice. Which is a shame, because as I texted my friend upon my arrival, there were so many nice surfaces, I wouldn't even begin to know which one to first snort my coke off of.

Anyway, here are the few that actually look decent:
The bed:


The nightstand (aka, coke snorting surface number three):


The view the next morning (because the really cool night shots were all blurry):


Memorabilia table (aka, coke snorting surface number one)


Also unfortunately, I spent the night alone. I told a friend the next morning that if there was ever a room for housekeeping to enter only to find my dead body slumped over a pile of cocaine, or naked in the closet with a belt around my neck, that would've been the room.

Ah, missed opportunities.

Forget about feelings, that's not what pays

Student (about to turn in his lab final): How can we find out our grades?

Me: I'll have them posted outside the lab sometime tomorrow.

Student: Is there any chance for extra credit?

Me: No.

Student: You need your car washed or anything?

Me: No.

Student: Need a tall blonde girl? I could see about sending a hottie your way.

Me: No, I think I'm good.

Another student approached me and said that the one who made the "offer" shoots porno films.

Which means he probably could've delivered the goods.

Which means . . .

WHAT WAS I THINKING???

I won't let you bury it, won't let you smother it, won't let you murder it

Last Saturday I saw Muse play at Mandalay Bay. It was possibly the best concert experience of my life. And thanks to the internets, I can share some of it with you. Here are some pictures that some people posted of the show:







And here are some videos:

Muse 4/10/10 - Intro and Uprising


Time is Running Out


Starlight


Supermassive Black Hole


United States of Eurasia


Feeling Good


Stockholm Syndrome


New Born (Bad sound, but the lights were really cool for this song)


I can actually see myself in the crowd in he Starlight and Supermassive Black Hole videos.

Don't be jealous.

An old friend calls and tells us where to meet

I was walking into a store the other day and saw a guy talking on a payphone outside. He looked just like this:



You stay classy, Shirtless Pay Phone Guy!

She's got hands like a man's with hair on the back

I lost my Swiss Army key-chain knife a few weeks ago. To most of you this wouldn't be a big deal, but you see, it's how I trim my nails. Finger and toe. I also have crooked toes. Crooked toes and long toe nails are not a good combination for me because that's when a few of my toenails try to become ingrown. So last night I got a pedicure in an attempt to curb the ingrowingness of some of my toenails.

While getting my toes worked on, a tall women with enormous breasts walked in to get her nails done. Or so I thought. When "she" opened her mouth to tell the nail person what "she" wanted, it was a voice that was way too low to be a woman's. At that point I felt a little dirty for admiring "her" breasts. But who am I to judge? After all, I was in a nail salon getting a pedicure.

When I went up to the front counter to pay, the tranny looked at me and asked, "So what color did you get?"

"No color."

"You didn't opt for glittery nails? Or maybe something army green?"

"Nope."

"Did you like it?"

"I did."

"Isn't she amazing?"

"She is*. I'll probably have to come back on a more regular basis."

"I like a man who takes care of his feet."

"Not many do. Have a nice day."

Once again, I didn't get a number.








*The lady who gave me the pedicure was hot too - I couldn't help but think naughty things while she was massaging my feet.

There weren't no chocolates, no pretty flowers

Last night my friends and I went to try out a new restaurant, Herbs & Rye. The food was fantastic. The overall feel was like a step back to the time of Prohibition. If you live in Las Vegas, or are in town for a visit, I'd highly recommend it. But since I'm not a food critic, that's not the real point of the post.

After dinner, my friends wanted to go sit at the bar for a drink (apparently this place makes amazing cocktails - I can't say for certain since I don't drink, but I can say that they looked like they'd be good). Everything was freshly made, and they had unique glasses for each individual drink. The owner and bartender take their spirits seriously. It was really cool to watch them work. But again, I digress.

There were a few attractive girls sitting by us, and the owner of the place asked one of them (the one I thought was the prettiest) if she had any plans for Valentine's Day.

"Well, let's see, I'm going to wake up and rub one out, drink a bottle of wine, then go to work drunk and see if I can get fired from my job."

The owner looked at me and said, "Did you hear what she just said?"

"Yeah, I heard." Then I smiled at her.

She smiled back at me and said, "Now don't be jealous."

"I have to admit, I am a little jealous. Sounds like it'll be better than my Valentine's Day."

She thinks she's the passionate one

Last night there was a bachelorette party at the table next to us at the bar. They were playing some sort of dice game where they needed to do certain things with certain types of people. A half hour or so after they started I heard someone call out to me.

"Are you tall?"

"Yeah, I'm tall."

"Good. Can you come here for a second?"

Then the bachelorette grabbed my hand and started singing to me: "I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself*."

Apparently the dice told her she needed to sing to a tall guy. I was happy to offer my services.

About an hour later, she walked back over to the table.

"I need a tall guy again. You're my trusty tall guy. You're the one I can sing to. Can you help me again?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Now I'm supposed to do a shot with a tall guy. Will you do a shot with me?"

"Uh, okay."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know. Just get whatever you want. I don't drink."

"You don't drink? What do you mean you don't drink?"

"I mean I don't drink. I've only done a shot once. Twice if you count sake. This will be the third shot I've ever taken in my life."

"We're going to do a Jager Bomb."

So I did a Jager bomb** with her. Who am I do deny a dying*** woman her last wish?

My friend is convinced that I could've made out with her last night. Looking at some pictures that another friend texted me of the event, I think he might be right. She was hanging on me for a little while afterward, posing for pictures and whatnot. I didn't make out with her though. I only gave her a kiss on the cheek.

I'm classy, yo.








*Remember Divinyls?

**It was terrible - don't worry, I'm not going to start drinking.

***Dying, getting married, same diff.

These postcards from tiny islands mean more than you know

I've been at this university so long, and taught so many labs, that I can rarely go to any sort of event without encountering someone who knows me. This was the case last weekend when I went to a football game.

We arrived early, so that we could get the best seats in the student section. As kickoff neared, more and more students trickled into the stadium. A couple of guys came to our row to meet up with some of their friends. I recognized one of them. He had taken a lab from me a few semesters ago. He saw me, said hi and shook my hand as he walked past.

His friend, who I had never seen before in my life, looked at me and said, "What are you doing here?"

"Uh. I just came to watch the game."

"But I thought you were on sabbatical right now."

"Sabbatical? No*."

"Weird**. Somebody told me you were on sabbatical in Fiji, doing fish research there."

"I wish***."

Sometimes it really is too bad that you don't get to live the life that others have envisioned for you.








*Grad students don't generally get to go on sabbatical.

**No, what's weird is that you're talking to me like you know me when I've never seen you before in my life.

***It occurred to me later that I should have gone along with it, motioned to the girl I was with, and said I'd brought her back with me. She's Mexican, but he might have bought it.

Party with the animals, party, no dogs allowed no more

Last night I went with some friends to the box office at the Hard Rock so they could pick up tickets for a concert we're going to next week.

When we got there, Ozzy Osborne and Dave Navarro were hosting a private party for the release of the new Guitar Hero.

Bastards didn't even invite me.

I am soooo deleting both of their numbers from my phone.

Let me see you stripped down to the bone

I encountered some former students at lunch today. They invited me to come sit down with them. In the process of catching up with them I asked one about her dental school applications.

Her: I only applied to five schools, but I should be able to get into one of them.

Me: I'm sure you will. You're smart enough. You should be fine.

Her: I'd better get in. I don't really have a back up plan, so if I don't get accepted I'll have to start stripping somewhere.

Me: Well, if that ends up happening let me know. I'll come buy a dance from you.

Her Friend: Maybe you could just tuck some dollar bills into her g-string.

Me: Either way works for me.

So if it starts to get you down just pretend that you don't make your living selling advertising

If this doesn't drum up some business for these guys I don't know what will.



I might also mention that the van is full of boxes and trash, and has two flat tires.

Nothin' forbidden, who you kiddin', now that's livin'

It's hard to pay attention to the band you paid to see when you have this at the bar to the side of you.



Many thanks to my European friend of gay chicken fame for taking this picture* for posterity.








*He may be the gay chicken champ, but his appreciation for nice boobies should be evidence enough that he's straight. If that's not enough, his hot wife ought to be.

I'm going down down down down down down down to Pussytown

[Disclaimer: If you are any member of my family, you may not want to read this post as it contains what you would consider to be pornographic images. Unless, of course, you're my brother, in which case you're going to want to see this. Heh.]

Are they gone yet? Good.

I'm going to share with you a letter I received earlier this week. Well, it's not exactly a letter per se, but it was in an envelope in my office mailbox.

I grabbed a thick envelope with my name scrawled across it out of my box. Normally I don't receive letters at work, and things that people place in my box are usually in manila envelopes. Not this one. It was just in a regular old white envelope. And did I mention it was thick?

I opened it, and inside was a sheet of paper all folded up with something inside it. It looked like one of those notes you'd get in third grade. You know the kind:



It took quite the effort to open the paper as whoever had given it to me had it all taped shut. Nevertheless, I prevailed, and unfolded the note. What was wrapped up inside it? Why nothing other than about thirty-five advertisements for strippers and escorts (aka, those cards they hand out on the Las Vegas Strip) of course!

I've picked the "tame" ones to show you here (believe me, some of them were a lot more risqué).








The note itself just said:


I have no idea who collected all those cards and wrote the note. It's not exactly the sort of thing you'd expect to be delivered at the office. But, I think it's time I went and gave "Honey" a call.

This is where the party ends, I can't stand here listening to you and your racist friend

Overheard the other day:

Guy: What do you want to eat?

Girl: I want to go somewhere I can get chink food.

Guy: Did you just say chink food?

Girl: I did.

Guy: You can't call it that.

Girl: I can if there aren't any chinks around.


Las Vegas: Home to some of the classiest people you'll ever meet.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Just a face in the crowd

Cashier*: You look like you've got a face that's on TV.

Me: Is that so?

Cashier: Yeah. Have you ever been on TV?

Me: No.

Cashier: Are you sure? Not even in a commercial.

Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've never been on TV.

Cashier: That's weird because I swear I've seen you before.

Me: Maybe you're confusing me with who everyone says I look like.

Cashier: Who do people say you look like?

Me: Bill Clinton.

Cashier: Who's that?

Me: Our former president.

Cashier: Oh.


Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the people of Las Vegas, Nevada.





*This actually happened a month or so ago, but apparently I never got around to blogging about it. Until now.

Stacy, can I come over after school? We can hang around by the pool.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to Mr M's school for a parent-teacher conference. Friday he brought home a note from his teacher. It read:

"Appropriate Dress Attire For Parent Volunteers/Visitors
When volunteering/visiting at [School's Name], parents are expected to wear attire that reflects the boundaries outlined in the [School's] Dress Regulation for students. We ask that parents do not wear spaghetti straps, shorts or skirts that are shorter than fingertip length, or clothing that exposes the midriff and/or the chest area."

The fact that they send this note home tells me they've had trouble with parents showing up in inappropriate attire. This being Vegas, I can only assume there are strippers with children at the school. Seriously, I have got to meet some of the other students' mothers.

All I want is to be a happy man

While at a sushi restaurant the other night, I realized that there are things I'm going to miss when I move away from Vegas. Luckily, my friend had his camera phone out, so I made* him sneak a few pictures. Here they are. See if you can guess what things I'll miss the most. I'll give you a hint: It won't be the menus, or the table.









*Because I'm creepy like that**.

**But also so I could share with you.