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Fark. I'm officially back. Same old fucking rut. I should be going to the gym, booking it to work to finish a huge ass job Melonhead plopped in my lap on Tuesday, and writing my ass off cause I forgot about The Group Therapy meeting next week.
I've finally figured it out. I miss Vegas too much. I'm going to enroll for my master's at UNLV. Brilliant idea right? Just nod your heads. I mean, how bad can the English program be there? Plus, just mozy on down to the Hard Rock after classes for a milkshake. And blackjack.
Plus, if I'm gonna have to resort to working a scrub job to pay my bills, it may as well be in Vegas. One of the cab drivers told me that the janitors in Vegas all own three bedroom houses. That's fucking unfair.
I want to be a blackjack dealer. Obviously a sunny personality isn't required and I'm sure I can master that hand-flip-wave-magician move when my shift is over. Wouldn't that be nice? Maybe work at New York New York? Caesar's? Hard Rock?
I wonder if UNLV would take me. Jar Jar said the most wicked, horrible, evil, racist thing about UNLV the other day. I'm scared to even repeat it. Email me if you want to know that bad.
Speaking of email, a huge banana-filled thank you goes out to Christy who finally gave me the identity and product name of that Japanese CD I needed to get for Dental Chick's birthday. Which was nearly a month ago. I'm pathetic. I've never been this late for anyone's birthday before and I'm usually the sentimental one about these things.
But anyway, thank you Christy, thank you. I've been deluged with utter utter crap ever since I got back and once again, my faith in human kindness and Internet compassion has returned. May your writings sell billions and fund yearly blackjack and shopping excursions. And shipping fees will never be a problem again.
Ah, a perfect world, no?
Speaking of Dental Chick and utter utter crap, I swear to God, I go to check in on Dental Chick and The Good Mother at karaoke for just half an hour and I was instantly in a bad mood; the day after I got back from vacation no less. Hmm... Let me think of words. Selfish. Self-absorbed. Aww fuck it, add self- in front of any word you can think of.
Jealousy. That's what it is. They're jealous I had a rockin time and they're all salty that they didn't rock, so they have to put me in a bad mood with all of their neurotic, only-in-my-mind shit...
I'll stop now.
Even weirder, at the gym, I saw Veruca Chick's boyfriend and I finally went up to him and introduced myself cause although we've never actually talked, we kinda know what each other looks like and we always end up just staring at each other so... Anyway, I introduce myself and go, "You're Veruca Chick's boyfriend right?"
And he goes, "Yeah, I am. I mean, well, uh, I was..."
My jaw is scraping the carpet. "You mean, you guys..."
"Yeah, since last Christmas."
Then the poor guy proceeds to tell me what happened, and he looks like he's about to break down and cry, and I'm getting the urge to hug a perfect stranger cause I inadvertantly opened up some kinda huge emotional wound and...
The thing I can't get over is, I just fucking saw Veruca Chick at the wedding and she didn't tell me squat. In fact, she said everything was fine and blah blah blah. Nonetheless, an email's gone out and a lunch at Neiman Marcus in the smoking section is definitely in order.
I mean, I know I saw her AFTER Christmas. I still think someone's pulling my banana. Eww. That came out totally wrong didn't it?
Then I find out the gym is renovating and will be closed from 10 pm to 6 am for two to three weeks. The times that I usually go. Fabulous.
I cannot believe less than a week ago, I was screaming my head off on a roller coaster at night, then instantly playing blackjack and eating primo slabs of meat while hobnobbing with Seth Green, Ben Stein, and Academy Award-winning actress Gwenyth Paltrow, or however the fuck you spell it.
I got a Gameboy, I got a Gameboy... Of course, the first cartridge is Caesar's Palace 2...
The sharks in Deep Blue Sea looked spectacular and any movie that does THAT to a certain African American character in the middle of one of his trademark acting techniques deserves at least a little attention.
Moving on, Eyes Wide Shut. For the record, Mr. Fucking Kal-Ki-der-Whatever wrote that shit while I was off the fucking island. I'd just like to clear up some shit and say that in NO WAY does Spunker endorse Eyes Wide Shut. Ohmygod what a fucking piece of crap. It would have been wholey irredemable had the photography not been nice. Plus I still like the way they used the Chris Isaak song. But between Wing Commander, Instinct, and Eyes Wide Shut... What the fuck was up with that movie? I've seen Red Shoe Diary episodes with more aesthetic and emotional/sexual jealousy value than that movie. Crabby Boba summed it up perfectly. "It took two years to make that?" And what's with that stupid two note piano? By the two hour and a half mark, I was mocking that piano, pretending to play chopsticks with my fingers. Oh and I thought I couldn't do a denouement. What's up with that Nicole Kidman line: "I think we should go home and fuck." Talk about a fucking boring movie. It was a dirty old man's idea of what's titallating (or however you spell it). Artistic my ass. That was just plain boring. I can't believe Kitsune posted four spunkies for Kal-Ki. When I ran into Kal-Ki, I was all like, "Tell me you were kidding. That was just a joke article right? You were being ironic, sarcastic, one of the -ic words! Right? Right?"
Fuck.
