tee kah nee kah lee spee kee
2001.09.30 15.53
Back is killing me. Fell asleep on roommate's couch last night. Pain. Suffering. I'm there. Can't breathe. Bleah. As luck would have it, I am scheduled to be in the Jacquzzi Suite at the Best Western... finally! They were booked up and I finally got to slip in with the cheapie corporate rate. I have never seen the room, however. My worst nightmare is that the room is just like any other room except that the bathtub has dinky little jets and they give you one of those packets of 'Ocean Water' scented jacquzzi salts.
Idiots on Plane: Take 2. For some reason my seats are in business class today and can't figure out why. I'm not complaining. However, a little kid playing an annoying handheld videogame during takeoff briefly vexed me, as did the Good Ol' Boy who was reporting on every single f***ing thing the plane did and how it works and why we were turning and where the airport was and what those things were on the wing and how the plane was descending and how that sound was the wheels and how the engines have to reverse to stop us... and the guy he is telling this to is sitting right next to him. I wanted to jump up from my seat and tell them to switch places so the newbie could see everything first hand. Crikey! To make things worse, the guy sitting in the seat next to me kept bumping me with his elbow and letting pages from a stack of papers he was writing in brush against my leg everytime he flipped through the pages. I was almost asleep at least twice only to be rudely jarred into consciousness by the creepy feeling of papers rubbing up against me. What do I have to do to get peace around here? Buy out the flight!? AirTran still sucks (see my June blog entries for previous references to the Suckability Factor of AirTran). And yes, I did confront the inconsiderate dorko by telling him he was freaking me out with his uninvited ventures into my personal freakin' space. Again, I ask, where are the attractive single female passengers when you need them? Can't I put this in my permanent flight plan details?
Trying to remember where Megan told me my car rental reservations are at. Drawing a blank. Pondering idea of calling all of them to see if I have a reservation. Perhaps if I told them I am really Matthew Broderick and that Mark Shields is my fake name. Hmmm.
cruising for chicks at the airport
2001.09.28 15.56
I had a run-in with allergy on Thursday. The Palace of Asia restaurant is the source for room service at my hotel. For some reason they are never consistent with the condiments even though I always order the caesar salad with jalapeno poppers. Some days I get BBQ sauce. Some days I get ketchup. Some days I get mystery green and red Indian dipping sauces that my scientists have not yet identified. Lazy bastards, always playing basketball. Anyway, this past Wednesday night I got Ranch Dressing. After one dip I knew something was wrong. One dunk was all it took. My face started puffing pretty much right away, but I thought it was because of the big goofy smile I had on my face while I watched the new Star Trek show.Again, kudos to TheOnion.com for their ferocious attacks on the attackers. It would please me nothing more than to write articles for them. So, in order to brush up on my satirical skills, I'll be writing a satirical article at least once a week (or less, depending on whether or not I write it). I'm also going to change my site's layout and work on my screen navigation model. I am taking the week of October 15th thru the 19th off in order to take care of massive renovations at my house (as well as massive catch up on all the sleep I've lost during the last 4 months). Tell your friends. Expect new pages on The Batmobile replica and my Back to the Future DeLorean Time Machine replica to show up soon. Also, keep an eye out for my nude pictoral of Britney Spears (that is, if I am somehow able to get the negatives into this world from the dream world). Dang dream world! You wouldn't believe how many state lotteries I've won while over there, only to always be told at the last minute that the banking system couldn't transfer my funds without a note from Santa Claus. Bleah. As soon as I find Santa Claus... party at my house!
geekarama
2001.09.26 15.57
Got my favorite room service meal: Chicken Caesar Salad and Jalapeno Poppers. The new Star Trek spin off Enterprise starts in just a few minutes. Yay. I'll report back on the first episode when it's over. Buhbye.Okay, I'm back. It was great. What can I say? Next episode, please.
TheOnion.com is freaking hilarious. Only they could take this terrible situation and write something innocently hilarious. Hijackers Surprised To Find Selves In Hell: 'We Expected Eternal Paradise For This,' Say Suicide Bombers.
seniorita goobita
2001.09.24 15.58
diet coke, please?
2001.09.23 15.59
I have re-written the journal entry below. Too much rambling and not enough grammar. I was rambling like the old George W. You know, before ''what happened.'' I was at Expo, a high-end home appliances & goodies store, signing me up for their Expo Credit Card. Almost done with my 2001 Buying Binge, I was purchasing a Fisher Kaypal dishwasher. This puppy is actually two dishwashers configured like drawers that can run independently of each other. It takes up the same amount of space as a normal dishwasher. So, anyway, I was signing up for credit there and they instantly gave me a $750 credit limit... at which I remarked, ''Is that all?'' The guy signing me up said that everyone was being given this low limit ever since ''what happened.'' Funny how we don't have to bother saying ''what happened'' specifically. I've been able to do this myself in the past. For example, whenever I refer to fracturing my ankles. ''I can't really jog anymore, you know, after what happened.'' ''I can't really clean up the house, you know, after what happened.'' ''I can't be a famous porn star anymore, you know, after what happened.'' Poor Ron Jeremy (pictured below left). I hope he gets over it.
Ron Jeremy: ''What do you mean you don't want to make movies anymore? Aren't the female stars pretty enough for you?''
Me: ''I'm sorry, Ron. I need time to heal. The movies will go on without me.''
Ron Jeremy: ''But what am I going to do? This is gonna be like when John Holmes died, only worse.''
Me: ''Yeah, I know. Oh well. You and the girls will have to find someone else to be in your movies.''
Ron Jeremy: ''Nooooooo!''
The airport today was extremely crowded. Looks like the American public is wising up that if they don't fly, they're still gonna have to indirectly save the airlines now that the 15 billion dollar bail-out was approved by the president. What? Did you think they were just gonna print some money and say, ''Here you go. 15 Billion Dollars. Have a nice day.'' Nuh uh! We're paying for that. Judging by how busy the airport is, however, they may not need all 15 billion. Maybe just 2 or 3 billion. What a bargain.
I again got stuck as The Middle Guy on the flight up. That sucks. I treated myself to an upgrade to business class to counteract the icky effects of being sandwiched between two dudes for two hours. Why am I NEVER sandwiched between two beautiful female passengers? Conspiracy! And these two dudes were idiots, too.
Idiot On My Right: ''Duh, look, huh, huh, there's smoke coming out of the air vents.''
Me: ''That's condensation, not smoke.''
Idiot On My Right: ''Oh, yeah, I knew that. I was just joking with ya. Huh, huh.''
Me: ''Riiiiight.''
On Saturday one of my errands was to push the DeLorean to the gas station. I had to do this because the car is very stubborn and won't start if I have less than half a tank of gas. Isn't that nice? For some reason I forgot that the DeLorean weights 3100 pounds. That's really heavy. I was moaning in pain after having pushed the car about 200 feet when two people at the storage place saw me and were like, ''Dude! That's a DeLorean! Let's go help him push it!'' They told me it was ''an honor to push such a cool car.'' Riiight. Keep pushing! I offered free cokes after we pulled into the Chevron, but they declined. As they walked off I could hear one of them go, ''Dude, we just pushed a real DeLorean.'' Riiight. I filled the tank up with high octane gas and two hits of STP carb cleaner and gas cleaner. I plan to get the car inspected next weekend and the increased octane should allow me to slip by with a passing grade. I got this tip thanks to an auto mechanic chick at the Wal-Mart a few weeks ago. The car started up, but drives like crap when it's on high octane gas. I can imagine that if the car could speak it would be saying something like, ''Hey, where's my octane, b*tch?!''
On Sunday I drove the Batmobile Corvette conversion around. I need to spend a couple of hours going over the car to find all the little problems it has that the seller didn't bother telling me about. For example, the windshield wipers don't work. The car leaks transmission fluid like it's trying to paint the road red. A serious tune-up is order. One of the hubcaps is missing which SUCKS. Bastard shipping dudes. I'll bet one of them took the hubcap off. Need to check eBay to make sure someone isn't trying to sell it. I am going to transfer the title over and keep the state registration up to date, but I am going to wait until January before I get the car inspected. You see, in January the car will be 24 years old, and I am no longer bound by Texas Law to adhere to the stringent emissions standards that we must all comply with. I just had my Mistubishi inspected on Saturday, as a matter of fact. It passed with flying colors. I love that car. It's paid off, too. That kicks ass. Anyway, back to the Batmobile. I drove it to the grocery store and bought some Rain-X just in case I don't get the wiper glades fixed anytime soon. People in the parking lot couldn't freaking believe my car and just descended upon me like I was a total freak. Of course, I am a total freak, so this seemed normal to me. The Batmobile got about five times the amount of gawkers that I normally get with the DeLorean. By the way, to anyone reading this, I will be making an appearance with the DeLorean at Trader's Village in Northwest Houston, Highway 290, on October 12th, 2001. I plan to set up a table with my computer and a printer, hopefully selling digital pictures of people sitting in the DeLorean. I am almost thinking I should use the Batmobile instead. Money is good. Two quarts of transmission fluid and I bet I can get the Batmobile there. And if anyone asks about why there is no inspection sticker? Oh, that. Yeah. Well, they don't have inspection stickers in Gotham City, okay? Don't you know anything?
back and forth
2001.09.21 16.00
I'm leaving Philly again tonight at 7 PM for another exciting AirTran Airlines flight back to Houston.
Unlike myself, I have lots of friends who have been going out of their way not to fly. Will this result in an increase in auto traffic?
An increase in traffic fatalaties? An increase in the price of gas?
As long as it doesn't result in a decrease in the number of flights willing to ferry me back and forth, I don't care.
I don't like driving. I especially don't like divided lane highways. I want a nice big grass partition or a solid concrete barrier separating myself and
opposing traffic when I do have to drive. Speeding past other cars while we are doing a combined speed of 150 miles an hour is a blind trust.
Will the other guy slip into my lane at the last second? He'd better not, else I'm gonna kick his ass. When is the damn transporter beam going to be invented?
Hurry up, science guys. Geez.
Lost my rental car key this morning before I left the hotel. Turns out it was inside the pocket inside my pocket. Why is there a pocket inside of my pants pocket? Is that the special pocket? I can't fit anything to special in there. Condoms? Nope. Money? Nope. Rental car keys. Yup. I do have something that I consider special that I'd like to keep in there. I have an old 1901 Indian Head penny I keep in my drawer at home. It has history. I sometimes wonder where the penny has been for the last 100 years. It would be way cool to have that ''know everything about an object'' power that Jeff Goldblum's character had in the 80's movie Vibe. That power is also a lot like the power Bruce Willis has in the movie Unbreakable. Come to think of it, Superman had that power at the end of Superman: The Movie. How else would he have known Lois Lane's ugly red car had fallen into a big hole in the ground and killed her? That's a very strange scene. He's standing there looking at the mess he's made by blocking the river, and then all of a sudden he has this ''Oh Sh*t!'' look on his face, as if he forgot to turn off the oven or something. Heh. Movies are cool. I want to make them.
apprehension
2001.09.15 16.00
I left the hotel with my camera and my wireless email device. I'd emailed a copy of the directions to NY in case I'd forgotten anything. I got there quickly but it took a long time to get into the Lincoln tunnel. There were no visible inspections going on so I'm not sure what the hold up was. I got into town and could see bright lights illuminating the smoldering remains of the World Trade Center in the distance. I headed for George Washington Park which has a miniature Arche de Triumph at the forefront. There were hundreds of people with candles walking around the fence which surrounded the archway. Apparently the public is not to be trusted to come close to the arch because a giant fence surrounded it (and it appeared that the fence had been there for some time). Notes, fliers, flags, and mementos covered the fence which was itself surrounded my thousands of lit candles. Very peaceful. I walked down Thompson street to Broadway (I believe) and then hung a left towards Church Street... command central for Ground Zero. There were literally hundreds of policemen on every corner. Fighter jets zoomed across the sky. Giant trucks filled with debris drove by, one after the other. I caught a glimpse of a severely mangled tanker truck which was only a shadow of its former self being towed away on a flatbed truck. Apparently the number of people out was nothing compared to a normal evening. Once I got to Church Street I could see cameramen being checked for credentials and then being allowed to walk towards the hole in the sky where the towers once stood. A firetruck drove by with 15 firemen on it and the crowd cheered wildly to them. I didn't dwell for long. The air smelled close to something like burning metal or burning fiberglass. I overheard people tell their stories about where they were that day. Nothing unusual. There are pictures of people missing on lamp posts all over. Trucks from the morgue drove by. I left. I went back up Thompson street and decided I'd try some Sushi at a place that had a significant line. I was bookended by two couples on either side. The one in front of me seemed to have been dating only a short time and the guy was in ''Show Her Everything I Know About The World'' mode. He was talking about Austin and how awesome it was. True, Austin is nice, but compared to New York, aside from the past events, it is a New York wannabe in the middle of Texas. I'm impressed that Russell Crowe likes to hang out there as much as he does. Maybe there is something in Austin that I haven't figured out yet. Anyway, the couple behind me were definitely longer term daters. The girl was talking about her father's crazy friend who suggested that the reason why the towers were bombed were because they were filled with so many Jewish people and that this was how the Arabs were just continuing what they've been doing in Israel. ''Thank you for your twisted opinion'' was the apparent response. Once inside the sushi place I sat between some big lunkhead dude and his tiny little girlfriend and two very obviously single girls who were trashing men left and right. I smiled and ate my Miso soup. I ordered the regular sushi dinner and was treated to these enormous portions of sushi on tiny little rice patties. With a chopstick you can't really cut these things up so I did my best to eat them whole. A tasty meal, but I'll go back there with someone signficant again. One is the loneliest number that you ever heard, okay?I returned to the park and listened to some guitar players that were playing popular inspirational songs and getting the crowd to sing along. Among the songs: Red Hot Chili Pepper's Under The Bridge, So Happy Together, David Bowie's Major Tom and the Beatle's Hey Jude. Around 11:30 PM I decided to bid New York farewell and headed back to the car. After some minor confusion I eventually found my way back to the Lincoln tunnel (always drive down 37th or 35th) and began the drive back. I missed my exit on the New Jersey Turnpike. I thought I'd be clever by using a U-Turn lane specifically labeled DO NOT USE THIS U-TURN LANE! I swear I hadn't turned onto the other side of the road not five seconds before Mr. New Jersey Super Cop pulled me over. I briefly considered using the old ''My Daughter Hit Her Head'' story but figured I wasn't motivated enough to put on my acting face. He was nice enough to give me directions back... as well as a ticket for the illegal U-Turn. Bastard. I may just pay this one after consulting with my insurance agent. I got back to the hotel and zonked out. The next day I decided to just stay booked in the hotel and to take only 1 bag with my vital stuff (i.e. toiletries, computer, and camera). I bought a Bruce Lee karate type suit while I was in LA for peanuts, so I'm taking that home for proper storage.
I am on the plane flying into Atlanta and, after initial tripidation, I'm feeling normal. The lady sitting next to me was supposed to be on a flight that left on Tuesday the 11th. So of course, she's a little bit jumpy. There are two idiots behind me playing slapjack or something that is defiling my ability to chill out. When I got to the airport it was fairly barren. Security checked my entire suitcase from top to bottom. My fingernail clippers were a suspect instrument, but the guy said he'd let me keep them if I broke off the toe-jam remover part. Darn! I need that toe jam remover... for, uh... my elephant. Yeah. So, I cut it off and then put all my stuff back in the bag. The security chick doing the checking nearly ripped open my bottle of Armani cologne. I had to tell her it doesn't open. I then had to demonstrate how to spray myself with it. I smell really good right now. I need to remember to avoid open flames.
visit
2001.09.14 16.01
My plane is scheduled to leave tomorrow (Saturday). I've decided to drive to New York before I leave. I'm feeling drawn there. I'll report back late tonight.continuity
2001.09.13 16.03
It is usually in times of crisis where you finally figure out who the really stupid people are. Howard Stern. He's funny, but he's an idiot. I heard about this redneck chick in Houston that was telling everyone to ''fill up your gas tank and take your money out of the bank.'' Also, I'm hearing about stupid people who are being jackasses to anyone of Arab descent or anyone who even appears Muslim. Again, this includes Howard Stern, and he seems to be inciting people to do this. On the other side of this behavior, however, people are being very brotherly (and sisterly) towards one another. We need more of that. Love one another, people. Offer comfort to those in need. And, in keeping with that thought, if here are any gorgeous women over the age of 21 who need super genius comforting, feel free to contact me to set up a comforting appointment.My return flight to Houston was canceled today. I'm not looking forward to the trip. The flight number is 911 on one of the legs, so, right there, that's bad. I've had a couple of ideas about what I would have done if I'd been on one of the doomed flights. Among the possibilities:
- Throw hijackers out of the plane. The ground can break their fall.
- Figure out way to put hijackers into the container that holds the blue toilet water beneath the plane. I'm willing to put them in there piece by piece, if necessary.
- Tie hijackers to a rope and lower them outside of the plane and into one of the engines. Wouldn't that suck?
- No unattended vehicles will be allowed curbside at the terminals
- Vehicle parking restrictions are in effect
- No curbside or remote check-in for baggage and passengers
- Only ticketed passengers and badged airport employees will be allowed beyond the passenger security checkpoint
- Increased patrols and security checks
- No carry-on luggage of ANY kind. Baby diaper kits are allowed, but must be stringently searched.
- Flight uniforms. That's right. You don't get to pick what you want to wear. You have to change out of your clothes and into this uniform.
- Federal Marshall on every flight, without exception. Bonus if the federal marshall is a big mean guy.
- Replace the x-ray security staff with off-duty police officers or fire marshalls. Right now they will hire any bozo who wants a job. In my opinion this should be one of the highest paying jobs at the airport and, if a hijacker gets past them when they're on the clock, they should be held legally responsible. Right now they do a crappy job because, frankly, they don't care. The x-ray security staff are now supposed to report to the FAA directly, but think about this: the FAA are the same dimwits that were stupid enough to allow knives ''four inches in length or smaller'' on any flight! Why do you need a 4 inch knife with you on the plane? Did you plan to do some wood carving? I don't recall the flight attendants ever saying that, upon reaching 10,000 feet, that we could begin using approved electronic devices as well as sculpting wooden horses with our 4 inch knives. Duh!
- No spoons or forks on the plane, either. Might as well cover the whole gamut of silverware, for the sake of fairness.
- To compensate for lack of silverware, finger foods will be served from now on.
- Seatbelts that can be electronically latched. Not only can these be used to hold down suspicious people until authorities arrive, anyone drunk and acting like a jackass can be easily contained with the flip of a switch. While we're at it, might as well add shoulder restraints to the seatbelts. Why are these required on a car only?
- Ejection seat for any pilot seat in order to eject a hijacker from the cockpit (preferrably as painfully as possible).
- TWO INCH reinforced steel doors separating the cockpit from the rest of the plane. If the pilots want to eat or have some coffee, they can bring a lunch bag. Give them their own bathroom while we're at it. Why should anyone on the plane have any contact with them at all?
- Make anything said in the pilot's cabin available on one of the headphone channels for the entire flight. An informed passenger cabin is an educated passenger cabin.
- Parachutes installed in the back of all chairs on the plane.
- Video surveillance of the passenger cabin or cockpit is available for flight controller or pilot review at any point. This video along with the audio should be accessible at any time from the ground during the flight.
- Develop fusion technology to power the plane. Why are we filling these things up with thousands of gallons of kerosene? Let's come up with a fuel that doesn't burn as hot or as long as kerosene. Dilithium crystals, anyone?
- Hand to hand combat training. Good enough for the marines, good enough for the stewardess.
- Foreign language education. Might as well understand what they're talking about. It isn't code, after all.
- Mental telepathy lessons in order to anticipate evil. These are also known as Spidey Sense lessons.
- Jackie Chan style fighting techniques. Might as well frighten any potential hijacker with the idea that not only could we kick his ass, we could kick his ass using a ladder, a chair or a stick of bamboo.
setting things right
2001.09.11 16.03
coast 2 coast
2001.09.10 16.04
I've added my pictures from the Los Angeles trip which includes photos from the premiere of Rock Star. No pictures of my other employer, Mark Wahlberg, but VIP access is well worth spending my off hours on updates. Check out the pictures and enjoy. A nice index will be added once I finish beating up the author of Web Thumbnailer for not fixing the bugs in the registration function of his product.the business
2001.09.06 16.05
Celebrities spend months and months making a film behind closed doors. The films they star in are shown to the population of the earth. I'll bet at least 2 billion people watch their films. That's a lot when it's just you and two billion people. Inevitably you have to make sacrifices to how many people you can meet in a given day without getting tired of meeting people over and over and over and over. I receive lots of mail from fans of Mark Wahlberg that mistakenly send mail to my old email address thinking it's going to him. About 99% of the mail is fan love mail (i.e. ''i love you!!!!!1') and the other 1% might possibly be something I need to forward on like another celebrity or personal contact trying to get in touch with him. I myself am a human filter for this stuff, so I can imagine that the source himself would be getting the same kind of communications, only several hundred times over. I don't know if I ever want that, although it would be nice to be recognized by total strangers, and hopefully, have your work complimented. However, since there are two billion people coming at you, the potential for crazies, dingbats, psychos, and freaks is very high. Just like the old saying goes, if you put 100 monkeys in a room with a typewriter for a thousand years, they'll eventually write something legible. Hmmm. This sounds like a blatant Planet of the Apes promo. Good movie, by the way. Go see it.Went to Rock Star last night. Hilarious. The foreshadowing and recurring themes were very clever. I liked it a lot. The music was great as well, although I like the fact they didn't press the fact that the film was set in the 1980s. Mark Wahlberg carried the film and was completely believable in the role of Chris Cole, a xerox machine repairman that sings for a tribute band called Blood Polution. Chris' band replicates all the looks, moves, and sounds of a huge megametal band called Steel Dragons. One thing leads to another and eventually Chris is offered the chance to sing for Steel Dragons. Anyway, I'll skip the full on review. The movie was very funny and well done. Produced by George Clooney (who I didn't see at the premiere) and directed by Stephen Herek, the movie was filmed nearly two years ago so it's very nice to finally see it.
Who did I meet or come into fairly close contact with? Marilyn Manson (who had a very cute goth chick girlfriend that I was instantly attracted to), Vince Neil (I'm taller than him, nyah, nayh), LL Cool J (told him I loved his stuff -- he was awesome), Everclear (''Come on dude, sing that Father of Mine song a little bit), Brad Pitt (The Man), Jennifer Aniston (hottie), Fred Durst (he's a regular guy), Quintin Tarantino (he's a big hulking guy, I had no idea), Matthew Perry (he had a sunburn just like me, I felt a bond) and, of course, Mark Wahlberg (he was very kind and met with all of us very briefly before ducking out of the club). During the screening there was a scene set in a club where his character and Jennifer Aniston's character make out with lots of beautiful people. When the scene faded to black, a single person was clapped out loud -- Mark Wahlberg. :-)
The afterparty was at the House of Blues on Sunset which required a short drive. Sarah Lum and Eric Weinstein (aka E-Factor), my contacts for the site, were very cool and accomodated the group I was with by getting us in past the long lines waiting to get in. We didn't get a lot of photos of Mark because we were stuck upstairs in the VIP room (oh, it was so terrible... not) while Mark was downstairs (unbeknownst to us) in the big room. We also met Ron Jeremy, worlds most famous pr0n star, as well as witnessing the historic first meeting of Ron Jeremy and Brad Pitt. By the way, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston are going to make some pretty babies one day. I just want to point that out. Jennifer... babe. Brad Pitt... well, put it this way, I wouldn't mind if some supernatural cosmic force caused us to switch bodies. I'm sure Brad would be pissed with mine, plus he probably isn't ready to create screen navigation models and HTML prototype screens. I'd be nice to him and let him live in the bungalow while me and Jennifer made home movies. Heheh. Heh. Ahem. Right. Uhhh... There were actually so many rock stars there that I need to go visit the Yahoo photo section and figure out who was who and who I missed. It's annoying to recognize someone but not remember their name. The only way to prepare for something like that is to memorize what *every* celebrity looks like. Where are Joan and Melissa Rivers when I need them?
More later. All this and I went to Disneyland and Venice Beach, too.
in l.a. & lost in the bathroom
2001.09.04 16.06
| I took four pictures of Richard Simmons while we were both waiting to board a flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles in the summer of 2001. Here's the scissor-paper-rock game I wrote based on those photos. The game now features my new W3C-compliant javascript that should work on any browser. Have fun! |
|
Let me start at the beginning... I stayed over in Philly this Saturday and re-arranged the room I was going to potentially be working in. Okay, I didn't just re-arrange... I
utilized my anal retentive super powers and organized. I haven't heard back on the response, but hopefully no one will send me back to Houston upon my return. Later in the
day I drove to the airport to fly to Los Angeles. While I stood in line to check in I heard someone say Richard Simmons was in the airport. I briefly considered tracking him down
to improve my Forrest Gump factor (thanks to Mark A. for that description). I decided against it and went straight to my terminal only to discover Richard Simmons and I would
be flying to Los Angeles on the same plane. I asked if he could take the photos I use in the above program and he was very gracious and happy to oblige. He actually was very
animated as I took the photos. You can probably detect that based on the expressions on his face. I told him it wasn't necessary to move around but he said, 'I like to get
into what I'm doing.' Fair enough. I wrote the program to play the game while on the plane since it was a 5 hour plus flight. I sat next to some non-English speaking Germans
who kept coughing. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when people seem sick around me and avoid their ass. Dammit.
I'd phoned Oktober ahead before leaving to tell her Simmons would be on my plane and when I walked off the plane she and Kristina were at a fancy bar not 20 feet away from
the exit ramp. They really know how to chill out over here. We were out of the terminal and waiting for a decent car at Thrifty car rental. They told me a nice Kia was waiting for
me. Hell no. I was briefly promised a convertible, but My Man at the Thrify came up empty. We instead opted for a luxury car with a sunroof. I need to make a conscious
effort to remember when I've got my head near a sunroof and avoid the sun. Dammit.
We checked into the Best Western on the corner of the 405 and Santa Monica Boulevard. The price is right, and it's only a few blocks away from the Mann's Village Theatre where
the Rock Star premiere will happen. Kristina got us hooked up with a house party and subsequent trip to a club called Deep. We were only at the house briefly and were
quicky whisked away to Deep thereafter. Deep is on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, so right there... that's cool. There was a fairly long line of people but, of the 10 girls
who accompanied me, we were allowed to bypass the line thanks to someone knowing someone. Oh, did I mention I was the only guy, practically? I think there was some other
guy, but he vanished quickly. There were three large areas comprising the club. The glass room in the back featured a dance area enclosed in one-way glass. You can see
inside, but the dancers can't see out. There's also a giant glass ceiling where two dancers crawl all over each other above the dancing crowd. Very... interesting.
Of course, I suffered greatly while being surrounded by 10 attractive women. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when I'm
surrounded by 10 hotties and avoid leaving. Dammit.
I drove the girls back to the hotel and we conked out until 11 A.M. At one point I woke up in the middle of the night and only saw Kristina in the other bed. I noticed the
bathroom door was ajar, although the light was off. I figured Oktober was busy. I waited 5 minutes although I really needed to make a visit to that particular room.
I eventually got up, opened the door, Oktober walked out and beelined straight to the bed. Thinking nothing of it, I entered and that was that. The next morning, however, I learned
that Oktober had actually been lost in the darkness of the bathroom for several minutes. I think the blame goes out to the bartender at Deep as well as the bottle of
champagne I bought so we could sit at a nice table back by the glass room. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when I hear groping in the bathroom that it
could be a tipsy sleepy girl walking in circles thinking she's entered a labyrinth. I'm not saying dammit this time, dammit.
