How was Vegas?

The question is asked with such promise. No one cares about your trip to Ft. Lauderdale. Outside of your parents, no one really wants to hear about your honeymoon. Your summer vacation to the Grand Canyon? No thanks. Everyone knows what your average vacation entails. That’s why people can’t wait to ask, “How was Vegas?” There is nothing average about Sin City. No other place on earth has the potential that Las Vegas has. You could win enough money at the tables to quit your job. You could also lose your house. You could meet the woman of your dreams. She could give you crabs. Any trip to The Strip is filled with endless possibility and that’s why everyone wants to know what happened. Your friends, family and co-workers will never accept that “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” They want to know and you’ve got to tell them something.

When it comes to Vegas I give very detailed descriptions of two things: food and what I did while the sun was up. I’ve never had a reason to lie. This past weekend I had the worst meal I’ve ever had in the state of Nevada. The Veracruz Seafood Hot Pot was $60 worth of Cambell’s tomato soup with a rubbery lobster tail floating in it. However, the Brazilian Steakhouse from Saturday night more than made up for it. I conservatively ate 2 pounds of various grilled meats. It was quite the display. As for my daytime activities, I watched some March Madness, enjoyed the pool and did a little gambling.

Some Vegas lies are easy to see through. “I lost a little at the tables.” No, you lost about a grand. A quick check of your cell phone will easily reveal the 3am call to Bank of America asking them to let you take more money out than the $300 daily limit. They don’t build casinos with giant gold lions out front from people winning their money back. Still, you recount one good winning hand at the black jack table; splitting nines against a six, getting two twos and doubling down on both. Then you hit a “bad run” but didn’t lose “too much.” Right. Personally, I lost about $20, which is a huge win for me. Usually, I lose $100 in about 7 minutes and have to hover next to the table until my “free” drink comes.

The trickiest part of any Vegas trip is talking about the nightlife. I think we all know about the sheer volume of excess available. It’s not called Sin City for nothing. If you want to do it, you probably can. This part of Vegas stays in Vegas. I’m not saying everyone who goes there does an 8-ball off a stripper while two hookers do things you can’t mention in The Aristocrats’ joke. I’m just saying it’s possible. It’s also possible for someone to stay in their hotel room and watch the Discovery channel.

There’s plenty that goes on under the bright lights that you can tell your family. (Speaking of families, don’t bring your baby to Vegas unless you’re planning on selling it. It’s no place for kids. There’s nothing for them to do. There’s a reason I don’t drink at Chuck E. Cheese. I don’t want to be drunk around children. Leave them at home.) From bachelor parties to fashion conventions to shotgun weddings, people want to know about the trip. The bottom line is this: ask the question, but be satisfied with whatever answer you get.

Dear Mr. Fantasty

I have to apologize for not posting yesterday. I know that I normally update the site with a new nugget of wisdom or funny anecdote every Wednesday, but I wasn’t able to. My dream didn’t come true yesterday. I didn’t win the lottery. I was crushed. I had spent the previous two days figuring out how I would spend $370 million and it was hard coming to grips with the fact that I had to go back to work. Not winning the lottery was like losing that jackpot, not just the dollar I used to buy the ticket. What is it about the lottery that makes everyone believe they can win?

The odds of winning the Mega-Millions drawing are roughly 1 in 175 million. If everyone in the entire United States bought a ticket, less than 2 people would win. Those aren’t just bad odds, they’re terrible. Yet, we keep playing. We gladly hand over the cost of a fast-food burger for the opportunity to own Belize. It’s $1 for an unfathomable amount. Who wouldn’t take that deal? And that’s why the lottery is so attractive, addictive and heart breaking.

From the time you buy your ticket to the time of the drawing you become more and more convinced that you’ll win. I buy quick picks and never even look at the numbers, yet I’m sure they’re winners. I can’t believe how awesome it’s going to be to turn four quarters into hundreds of millions of dollars. I work myself up into such a frenzy when I play the lottery that I can’t even imagine not winning because I just know it’s my time. That’s why I couldn’t write yesterday, because my fantasy didn’t come true. All the plans I had for my new found wealth were shattered. But since I’ll never be able to play them out in person, I’ll share them with you.

I’ll only briefly mention the standard moves like buying your loved ones houses and cars and making sure they are taken care of. I’d like to do it in a fun way, surprising everyone and throwing keys at my parents and brothers like Oprah does. Sure, I’d give back to my Alma Mater and various charities too. I wouldn’t be one of those jerks who say they won’t quit their job just because they won the lottery. I’d take a dump on the rug, shout “that’s real ultimate power” and speed away in my new Jaguar. I’d spend the money in small amounts doing crazy little things. I’ve always wanted a room filled with plastic balls like at Chucky Cheese. I’d have an entire refrigerator filled with proscuitto. I’d have a KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut in my living room. And I’d have a penguin.

Sure, those things don’t take millions of dollars to have, but I think that’s the underlying lesson that comes with playing the lottery. We let our thoughts run wild about what we’d do and spend, but most of the things we come up with are within our grasp. Maybe you can’t buy your relatives a house, but you can do other things that send the same message that you care. You may never own a Chucky Cheese, but you can buy a kiddie pool and a few thousand plastic balls for a couple hundred bucks. You can fill a mini-fridge with cured ham for half that. As for my penguin, it turns out they’re protected and it’s illegal to sell or purchase them. So, I’m just going to have to steal one. And my penguin and I will keep playing the lottery. After all, it’s only a dollar.

Gym Crow Laws

If you've ever been to a gym, then you've probably ranted about a gym. Sure they're a great place to get exercise when you want to be indoors and surrounded by strangers, but there are some drawbacks. Who hasn't dealt with the 5 o'clock cardio rush only to find every treadmill filled by people completely ignoring the 20 minutes when busy rule? And how many times have you stalked your way to an empty machine, sizing up other potential users and cutting them off through the free weights, only to find the bench covered in sweat? As for unnecessary nudity in the locker room, what can I say that hasn't already been said? Grab a towel. Don't stretch without pants on. Have some shame.

No, I have a totally different set of issues I'd like to raise with the gym-going population. I'd like to first address the gym rats and I'm talking guys here. You know, career exercisers who happen to be at the gym no matter what time you go. If you're there on Wednesday morning, they're there. Ditto if you show up Thursday at midnight. Now, I have no problem with these macho-types working out a lot. More power to them. I simply have a problem with their attire. If I can see your nipples head on, what you're wearing doesn't constitute a shirt. I understand you want to show off your pecs, but do it at appropriate places like the beach or the prison yard.

My criticism of attire isn't limited to the fellas. There is a very large subsection of the female gym crowd that never seems to break a sweat. Their workout clothes are designer and hug every curve of their already toned bodies. They walk on the treadmill at the same pace as a DMV line while talking on their cell phones not burning the number of calories they ingest from a Mentos. Again, if that's your regimen and it works, great, just don't get mad at me for staring. I'm looking for two reasons. One: I think you're an idiot for coming to a gym and essentially doing nothing. Two: You're hot. When I'm done working out I'm closer to discovering fire and dragging a woman back to my cave than walking out of the pages of GQ and offering to buy you a drink. I'm going to look. Stop getting mad at me.

This next PSA is for those who frequent the community hot tub. Let's just get out of the way the fact that it's gross. Hair. Skin. Old people. Band-aids. The stuff that floats around the whirl pool is disgusting. And yet I still use it. Why? Because I've weighed the pros and cons and decided that having a nice soak after my workout is well worth having to scrub off the first few layers of my skin afterwards. What I don't need is anyone to make the experience any grosser or more uncomfortable than it is. I'm talking to you, old guy who pretends to be stretching but is actually just positioning his balls next to one of the jets. I know what you're doing. You're not fooling anybody. I understand that by the nature of the swirling water, most of it is going to contact the area around your speedo that houses your nugget pouch, but for God sake's don't make all the water rush past it on the way to me!

Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention at least one problem in the locker room. I'm usually breathing kind of heavy when I'm done. It's the sign of a good workout. My lungs need oxygen and that requires deep breaths. What my lungs don't need is your spray deodorant. It seems like every time I walk in the locker room it's fogged in like the Golden Gate Bridge in June. Let off the nozzle! Those cans aren't single use. Mix in a stick of Degree and save the planet. That goes for you cologne addicts too. It's concentrated shit, just use a drop. You know why I don't wear Tag Body Spray? Because I hate it. Consider yourselves warned. I'm going to get one of those bird flu masks and start carrying cans of Raid and hold the nozzle down as long as you do. Now if everyone would just take these points into consideration our collective gym experience would be a whole lot better.