A shot of insulin in Vegas

Having been some time since my last entry, it only seems appropriate that I submit from VEGAS! And by submit, I’m not referring to some BDSM type of thing..I simply mean submitting a blog entry. That being said, the gutter is the only place your mind should be right now.

A playground for meaningless sex and other debauchery, Vegas must be one of the greatest places on earth for those who are into that sort of thing. And apparently, it all begins at the airport judging by some of the people I see.

Inbound travelers vs. outbound travelers…the distinction couldn’t be more obvious here. The inbound excitement, energy and overall hustle. Smiles on their faces, whorelike eye fucking from random passers by and an overall sense of the trouble to come paints them into the unmistakable box of the arriving visitor. Box. Their best days are in front of them…

I see one outbounder smiling…the rest have a tentative/worried look on their face. Maybe it’s the money they lost. That or gas. Or gonorrhea.

So this guy is wearing a very full backpack…backwards. You’ve seen it…looks like a “front” pack. What is the reason for this? Maybe he doesn’t think he looks like enough of a tool without it. Oh…he took it off…yes, still a complete tool. Go back to the pregnant weight distribution so I can laugh at you.

Juicy Couture yoga pants…they have “Juicy” written across the ass of her pants… I bet it is. I wonder what's written across the front.

I’ve never seen someone multitask where they are simultaneously putting food in their mouth and picking their nose with the same hand. The french fries would have been a better side…in my opinion. Are boogers salty? I’ve literally never eaten one.

OK guys…Superman shirts…three of them so far. Do we have an ego issue or just an otherwise flawed self perception? And here’s one with a matching tattoo. If you’re going to get a superman logo tattoo, you should at least get it on your chest. …and perhaps be mildly superheroic in your appearance. The unshaven 110 pound ladyboy really is out of his league.

Get over yourself. I think business people should record their own calls and review them. Kinda like football teams review “the tapes” during the year. The guy next to me is a riot. He just said, “Someone’s got to do that” about 7 different ways…in a row. The best was this version….”Someone has to get that done ASAP…and I mean right away.” Really? ASAP means right away? Thanks for clarifying. That’s good to know since it is such an uncommon expression. I could see a need to clarify if it was DSL which can refer to digital subscriber line or dick sucking lips. One might want to specify that very important difference. …particularly in Vegas.

I love it…just received a call…”Hey Jim…you’re on your cell I take it?” ….umm…you just called me…on my cell. …and I answered. Of course I said that I wasn’t on my cell phone just to confuse things further. It worked.

Why do people walk so slowly? Why to older men have an obsession with picking at their finger nails…over and over and over and over again? Is there THAT much shit under your nails? Why does the enormous guy next to me keep smacking his lips and sucking the food out of his teeth?

Vegas, a great family vacation spot. I see three arriving families with young children. My guess is this…they’ll check into the hotel, hit the craps tables and then take in Holly Madison’s Peep Show before hitting some late night clubs. Maybe bring a hooker back to the room to finish the evening (so to speak). Go ahead…argue the virtues of Vegas as a family destination…

A small, awkward Asian guy is trying to get his arms around his girlfriend who clearly doesn’t want to be kissed. You funny guy… Ok..the guy is still smacking his lips. He finished eating like three minutes ago. What the fuck. And the guy behind him is two knuckles deep in his nose while he types away on a business computer. Makes you kinda wonder how he got so good at one handed typing. (I’m not insinuating anything, but he’s not really a prize if you catch my drift.) If you’re counting, we’re up to two nosepickers within a 6 foot radius of me.

Ladies, just so you know…the thin, light fabric pants…white or yellow. Yes, we can see right through them. The reason we’re walking behind you is to distinguish what type of underwear you’re wearing. And if you’re worth anything, we’ll talk about it with our friends and may even think about it later. Nice black thong with your white pants…really.

I refuse to run at the airport. Nothing more to say on that.

I literally just heard someone order a triple whopper with cheese. And really, why choose a Whopper or Double Whopper when you can actually get the Triple Whopper with cheese? 1230 cal and 738 from fat. Add large fries to get you to a total of 1730 cal …990 from fat. Go ahead…get the extra mayo. Nice job, America. Your way, right away means tempting fate and going for complete arterial blockage. Everyone has to strive for something.

Mayonnaise on a burger or anything else for that matter is just gross. That’s my position. If you don’t like it, then write your own blog.

Better get up now. Time for a Cinnabon and a shot of insulin.

Mr. Answers

So Texas Toast is really something from Texas. It isn’t just thickly sliced bread…well…actually, that’s exactly what it is. But, in Texas, apparently everything comes with Texas Toast. As if it’s a State full of three year olds, everyone can get excited to know that their chicken fried chicken comes not only smothered with gravy and a side of fries or potatoes…but also with thick, unbuttered toast.

So there’s this blonde lady in a little black dress…very small lady. But she’s extremely…um…top heavy. Most certainly store bought. Noticing that her gate was next to mine, I had to verify my suspicion. For the record, I didn’t suspect that her boobs were store bought; I KNEW that…so that’s good. Because to verify that, I’d have to…well…I’d probably get in trouble many times over. Anyway, …I was right…she was heading to LA. I believe LA has more plastic and saline per capita than anywhere else. Regardless…sundresses are back. And despite the cartoonish appearance of this lady and her caricature-like chest, I am a fan of sundresses in the summer…or any other time for that matter.

Oh my gosh…could this guy’s feet be any smaller? He isn’t a small guy either. Very small feet. Perhaps his parents confused him for a Chinese girl when he was young and bound his feet. That’s really the only logical explanation. But you know what they say about a guy’s feet. Poor stubby. What do they say about the size of women’s feet? Gigantic feet = huge labia? Why don’t we have any “You know what they say about the ____ of a woman’s ____?” And I think it should be something totally random…related to their ears.

Ladies, if you’re wearing a skirt, you really shouldn’t be walking with your hands in your skirt pockets. Actually…guys…you shouldn’t be walking with your hands in your pants pockets. …or skirts for that matter. Come on…you look like a college student coming home from the bars after closing time in the winter.

Whoa…speaking of gigantic. This must be the day of caricatures. How can someone have a gigantic ass but otherwise have a normal-average frame? You know what I’m talking about…the guy or lady who leaves the room and has an ass that takes another 10 minutes to leave.

Scott Pollock (pahl-uck) was just paged. I know I’d be tempted to say pole-lock. “Scott Polock, please come to the customer service desk. Please walk forward…on your feet.”

Apparently “Mr. Answers” likes everyone in the airport knowing all of his unique knowledge. He has literally said, “Oh, I have an answer for that.” five times now. The fun thing, though, is I find myself trying to think of ways to stump him. I’m going to go give it a try.

Bacon with a Muffin Chaser

I’ll take the muffin….oh…and throw in a side of bacon, please. Weird? Maybe…but not in the South. Food is different here. Every culture is at least somewhat defined by their food. But Southerners have a love of food that is like no other. As if the health consequences of bad nutrition apply to everyone except them, Southerners enjoy foods fried in lard and grease…and covered with a gigantic pat of butter, just for good measure. I think I’m going to move here. This is the kind of food that dreams are made of.

I should be delayed this morning. The weather is horrible. Very tornado-ish. I think it’s a hurricane. FYI, I’m in Dallas. Consider this a preemptive blog. Premature blogging. Better than premature, well, forget it…I digress. Wait…isn’t this entire blog a digression? Nevertheless, I’m on a 4-state tour this week, so there is no doubt that this work-in-process blog will take you to different areas of the country. …Depending on the weather, the airlines and anyone or anything else involved in delays.

So I’m at Chili’s for breakfast. Airport Chili’s …big fan of this airport restaurant for breakfast. Especially in Texas. The guy next to me just ordered, in a heavy Southern drawl, a muffin and asked if she could bring a side of bacon with it as well. Nice…bacon with a muffin chaser. Now the only way to finish it off is with a tall glass of sweet tea. …that’s how they roll in the South.

I ordered the breakfast tacos, bacon (at the suggestion of my new friend) and an OJ. Be careful not to choose a side of fruit. Although fruit is a good start to your day, it is also dead giveaway that you’re a northerner. …some parts of the South believe we’re still at war. Here’s my food… …wait…ice in OJ? Um…no…unless there’s vodka in it.

…and here I am in Chicago…on my way to Phili. It only makes sense that there are weather delays in Chi-town. But I love it here…and that love has very little to do with the alcohol Ive consumed. The alcohol, could however, be a contributor to my missing apostrophe in I’ve. …or the fact that I’m speaking aloud each word that I’ve typed so far…and laughing now…

OK…whoa…leashes are for dogs, not kids. WTF. I just absolutely disagree with the idea of having kid leashes. Vehemently. Well, not that strongly. I bet the kid’s name is Rover…maybe Sparky. Good boy!!….look at the good boy walking through the concourse and not peeing on each pillar! …and we wonder why some 38-year olds still live at home…

Welcome to Phili. I know, hard to believe I’m delayed here. Ahem. At least it’s only for 5 hours. Oh…and FYI…quit looking at my screen. Yes, you…in the food court in the pink polo shirt with the popped color. I see you…you look like you need a hobby…. I’ll keep writing about you until you look away. There… that’s better. I suppose the computer screen privacy filters have merit.

What is the goal of wearing a half-length vest that is cut to fit around the underside of your boobs? I think I know the goal…just checking. Oh…and PS…big fan…I guess something can look “dumb, yet eye-catching” all at the same time. Wouldn’t really want to see anyone I know wearing it, though….ever.

When wearing heels, women either walk like they have never taken a step in their lives or like they’re completely in-charge. The in-charge thing is pretty hot…otherwise, not so much. Don’t wear them if you can’t walk in them. That’s why mine are in my closet. …so to speak.

Some hair colors are unnatural. But at least you have hair…albeit orange. Remember Cookie the clown from The Bozo Show? Yeah…it’s like he has a daughter. …without as much eye make-up. …but close.

Flight Attendants and ‘Roid Rage

I have close friends who are gay. Isn’t that how every good joke starts? You start by saying you have a close friend that is something or other...and then you go on to insult or make fun of that person/group. Well....here we go.

I guess the airport isn’t the only place for observations. I was sitting on the O’Hare – Dallas flight and noticed my flight attendants...what an untapped resource for my blog!

A lot of flight attendants are gay men. Not just gay, but flaming homosexuals. Maybe it’s a job requirement. Check “here” if you’re gay. If you checked “gay”, please indicate on a scale of 1 to 10 exactly how flaming you are. Please use the box below to elaborate...we know it’s a box, but you’ll have to make do this time.

Female flight attendants, on the other hand, are a completely different story. You can take almost any woman, put her in a flight attendant uniform and instantly upgrade her rating. It’s kind of like the teen movies....where they take the nerdy girl, let down her air, remove her glasses and voila...hot, popular chick emerges. And yes, we do rate you, ladies....it’s just a fact of life. Deal with it. You’re probably in the 4-6 range...it’s true....you’ve seen bell curves. Get over yourself.

Head bobs are funny by themselves. But combine them with turbulence and an iPod...it’s quite a show. Picture this.... You’re listening to Bohemian Rhapsody while comfortably sitting in your seat. The guy in seat 8A is ahead of you...head bobbing as he’s drooling down his shirt. Meanwhile, you hit turbulence and everyone else begins moving accordingly. You have the extreme movement of Mr. 8A’s head bob with the softer turbulence movement effects on other non-droolers....very entertaining. Try other genres of music to see which works the best for your entertainment value.

So in the South...mashed potatoes come with gravy and tea comes sweet. That’s just the way it is. Actually, I think it’s a law. And it should be. This kind of thing leads me to the conclusion that The South will rise again! Ok it won’t. You’re all racist.

Alright, I’m getting thoroughly annoyed. Sitting here in DFW waiting to return home....on TV is the hearing on steroids. Our elected representatives are interviewing Roger Clemens. I would bet a million dollars that they’re in line for his autograph after the hearing. However it plays out, the one central message that comes from this is: members of Congress are excellent at wasting our time and money. Relatively speaking...how important is this to our country right now? Great...Clemens’ nuts are shrinking, he has back hair, zits and roid rage. Thanks for clarifying, Nancy.

Memorial Day Tribute

We can't ever forget the sacrifices of our Nation's heroes and their families.

God bless all of them.

My kind of town....usually

The Windy City. The Chairman sang it correctly... my kind of town. Chicago is unquestionably one of the best cities in the entire world. But today, Chicago’s very own O’Hare airport is moving in incredibly slow motion.

I’m not talking about Baywatch slow motion, either... For the record, I’m a really big fan of that. Run Pamela! ...save this drowning 32-year old with your buoyancy. I saw her with Tommy Lee trying to give him mouth-to-...wait a minute...old news and inappropriate. What a stellar performance, though.

Clean airport floors are about as unrealistic as a Republican social worker, but the staff at O’Hare gets an A+ for effort. Armed with a scraper at the end of a long pole (no Tommy Lee reference intended), this guy is walking along pushing the scraper down the floor....scraping the entire path whether it needs it or not. For those who can fit down the 3-inch path, I’m certain the clean floor is nice. But for those larger than a Smurf, the sound rivals the annoying pitch of fingernails on a chalkboard. I’m tempted to shove the scraper straight up his ass if he passes again.

I am a self-proclaimed expert in airport delays. And since there is no organization to disprove that, I’m sure you’ll find what I’m about to say as insightful as it is true. When traveling, comfort is a must. That’s why I stopped at the oasis to change from dress pants into cargo shorts. Yes, I was mildly concerned about the rest stop public bathroom frequenter....but I made out ok. Not like that. We all miss you, George. Again...not like that.

Travelers are taking comfort to an entirely new level today. Shorts, black socks and sandals, ...while comfortable to him, he doesn’t realize that it frightens me. He certainly carries himself like he is straight out of the pages of GQ, though. So what’s more important ...fashion or attitude? Can a complete disregard for anything even slightly fashionable be offset by attitude? Not when I’m judging you without your knowledge...that’s for sure.

Hairy butt cracks. There’s a familiar sight in the airport. If my ass crack stuck out that much, I’d at least try to clean it up a bit. I might even try to make it functional. Excuse me, sir, do you have a _________________? Fill in the blank...pencil, piece of gum, boarding pass, mint, light. Why yes I do.

Is your posture really that good or are you just trying to stick your boobs out? Either way, good for you...and me.

Tattoos are permanent, so use caution. Big Nick and Doug have done a great job with theirs, but Captain Ape across from me really doesn’t seem to give much thought to what he’s putting on his body before permanently inking himself. A wife beater wit a bearskin rug quantity of fur coming out of the top is only interrupted by one half of his huge spider tattoo peaking out of the mess.

The vinyl covered chairs here at gate B8 are so hot that they make the surface of the sun seem like an Antarctic holiday. That...plus the approaching floor scraper is forcing me to end it here. “Today on NBC news at 5...an O’Hare worker is in good condition after having a scraper shoved up his butt.”

I still believe.

It’s always moving to see a big group of soldiers, but especially so at the airport.

I noticed them as I was working my way through security. A large group waiting to board their airplane. They were at gate B29; I was flying out of B30.

The sight was emotional for everyone, although I’m certain the most was felt by the soldiers and their families. Men clutching their wives and kids...Moms and dads embracing their soldier sons & daughters...the USO lined the path to board the plane and handed out gift bags and water as they hugged and shook hands with our soldiers.

I made eye contact with one of the soldiers who stood a few feet from me. I knew the answer, but curiosity made me ask...“Where are you going?” One quiet word came out of his lightly clenched jaw ... “Iraq”. All I could do was thank him and shake his hand. I saw the strain in his face as he turned away to board.

A woman hugged her Army husband as her mom held their brand new baby and watched with tears rolling down her face. One final kiss and a hand holding until the final fingers slipped apart...

A young Sergeant hugged his wife and their 5-ish-year old son until all others had boarded. Grandma and Grandpa were there too. It was time. As this Sergeant walked down the aisle of USO supporters, his son ran after him... “Daddy!”

Everyone cried and solemnly watched this group of volunteers. All of these soldiers making a sacrifice. Restless nights from anxiety and the fear of battle. Missed first words and Baptism. The first T-ball game. And...God forbid...life.

They’re doing it for us...and for our country. Forget about the politics...forget about the mission and whether or not you agree with it. You aren’t going to agree with everything...that’s American and it’s ok. ...it’s better than ok; it’s right.

But our soldiers deserve our respect. All the time. No matter what. Hundreds of thousands of their brothers have sacrificed throughout our history in wars against hostile nations...peacemaking missions...and conflicts against extremist groups. They safeguard our freedom...that’s all there is to it.

But what are you doing? Are you still flying your Flag? Do you even have one that’s in good condition? Have you written an email to a soldier or service family? Is there a yellow ribbon on the tree in your parkway? Do you stand for the Color Guard at a parade? Sing the National Anthem? It really doesn’t take much.

I still believe that we’re a great country. ...the best. I still respect those who protect it. I still want them to feel that. And I still believe in America.