Like Sands Through The Hour Glass . . .

For those of you who completed the above phrase . . . Congratulations on know who the hell Hope and Bo are! Even though you earned extra points for knowing that, this is not what this blog entry is all about. What it is about is about is friends, family, the good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between and yes there are times when the Hokey Poky is what it's all about. I can't say this enough . . . Life is too short! Before you know it it's gone . . . or at the very least someone that you shared your life with is! One thing is for certain . . . No matter how hard you try you just can't outrun or avoid the Grim Reaper. Many have tried and all have failed (Except For Kieth Richards of the Rolling Stones). Only God knows what the hell is going on with him.

With that being said, make sure that you do not let another day go by without telling those that you love as well as those that you don't just how you feel. That's right . . . No Regrets . . . If you love someone tell them . . . If the person in front of you is being rude or a dick tell them. Why has it become such a bad thing to be honest with people when it come to pointing out something as simple as "You're Being Rude"? I think until some calls a Dick a Dick they might actually not know they are being one . . . especially if their friends are to "Chicken-Shit" to point it out to them either.

As those of you who follow my blog know I do not like to be serious when it comes to my posts so I will be brief in this part. A friend of mine has recently lost his best friend in an accident and has left behind not only a family but friends who will miss him the rest of their days.

So if you do not remember anything from this rant remember this . . . Life isn’t a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, latte in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ‘Woohoo WHAT A RIDE’!

Do You Ever Wonder . . .

There are alot of things in this world that should make you say hmmm. Here are a few things that make me say that very thing.

Do you ever wonder why they make prescriptions that have side affects that are worse than the condition that it's trying to cure. There are quite a few on the market that not only cause diarreah but to top it off there is even one on the market that causes gas with an oily discharge . . . Oily Discharge. What the hell is Oily Discharge! Great, so you fart and ruin you pants with an oil slick . . . That's just wrong. Then to make matters worse there is one that causes "Death". What the HELL . . . death! I think I would rather take my chance on whatever my condition was. You can't recover from Death last time I checked! There was even one I saw the other day for asthma. One of the side affects was "Shortness of Breath" . . . Holy Shit! Really . . . the company that produced this "Wonder Drug" didn't think that this might actually be a problem for a person with Asthma. They could have spent a little more time on the formula to try and eliminate this particular side affect. I'm just pointing out the obvious . . . thanks for reading and joining me in a united Hmmm!

Funny Thing Happen On My Way To Work . . .

As many of you might already know there are many things that I find funny. Some of the things that make me pause and laugh may seem serious to most. Well that is why I have this blog . . . To share my sense of humor.

I have found that in my life of 46 years there is always room for two things . . . Jello and Laughter. So when you are faced with tough situations like someone being a "Dick" in the line at Starbucks because they don't have his type of coffee, take a monent to see the humor. You may wonder what could be so humorous about somone being a "Dick" in Starbucks because they don't have his type of coffee. Well first off the "Dick" is wanting to spend $4.00 on a fucking cup of hot water strained through ground up beans . . . Fucking hilarious! Second thing, is that the "Dick" is an adult acting like a spoiled child that doesn't get his way . . . Fucking hilarious! Last but not least the "Dick" doesn't realize that everyone in line is staring at the back of his head wishing he would just burst into flames . . . Again . . . Fucking hilarious!

So take a few minutes to asses the situation and look at it for what it is . . . Fucking hilarious! (See a theme) Remember life is too short to get your panties in a knot every time the local heroine shop . . . I mean Starbucks . . . can't give you the "Fix" you are craving.

There are also those situations where you wish you could say something to the "Dick" but you don't. Well I do and it is very liberating. I have found that when you say something, the "Dick" usually doesn't know how to react anyway. Let me warn you though, that if you choose to say something the next time you face a "Dick", be prepared to stand your ground and be quick witted. If you aren't good at this . . . Just laugh out loud and point. This is very useful because when the "Dick" asks what you are laughing at . . . Simply say "A Dick" . . . Problem solved . . . They never have a comeback.

Castaways At The Comedy Show . . .

The day began at the crack of 10:30am as the night before ended early in the A.M. And lets face it we're old. Upon meeting up we decided to have breakfast at the Pyramid cafe in the Luxor Hotel and Casino. That was where the first amazing thing happened . . . Hold on to your hats . . . Dennis ordered pancakes! I know that for most of you reading this the first thing that comes to mind is “What the fuck is so amazing about a man ordering pancakes for breakfast . . . Wait a second and I'll tell you. Dennis is what is known as a “Pancake Snob”. He will only eat pancakes that he cooks. They have to be made with Bisquick, sugar, milk and “Real” vanilla, and the batter must be the perfect consistency. So back to the amazing part of ordering pancakes . . . blueberry ones to be exact. He informed our waitress that this was the first time he has had pancakes in a restaurant in 30 year . . . that's right you read it correctly . . . 30 Fucking Years . . . Holy Shit!

For those “Non-believers” there is a video that I will be uploading to my Photobucket account later. The video is a living account of what is now fondly referred to the castaways as “The Pancake Miracle”. I recorded the interview live with the “Man”, the “Legend” the “Pancake Snob” Dennis Crow. The breakfast soon arrived and there was a sort of drum roll happening silently in all of our heads in anticipation of the first bite. Needless to say the waitress was feeling the pressure too, it was as if the pancakes were being reviewed by Chef Gordon Ramsey or some other famous foodie. The preparation began . . . an adequate supply of “Real Butter” was applied . . . this was soon followed by a dowsing of “Hot” maple syrup (I knew it was hot because that is how Dennis ordered it). The drum roll was getting louder . . . The first cut was made . . . Followed by another . . . the tines of the fork pierced the fluffy flesh of the pancake . . . the fork was raised to his mouth (The anticipation was palpable) . . . the wedge of fluffy pancake goodness was now in his mouth and chewing had commenced and nothing but the review remained . . . on baited breath we all watched and waited in silence . . . The eyes of everyone in the entire restaurant were now on Dennis (Not really but it makes for good reading) . . . then he spoke . . . “There Good” was his response, followed by . . . “They're a little “Bubbly”. What the fuck does a little “Bubbly” mean? The only words that came to our collective mouths was “What”. We then received a culinary lesson on the topic of “Pancake Consistency”. You know . . . fluffy vs. bubbly! The breakfast was an overall success and while most of you reading this may find it a slow moving part of this blog . . . It was definitely a “You Had to Be There” moment of our adventure.

Breakfast was now but a memory and we were off for a couple of activities arranged by the female castaways . . . Bodies The Exhibit and The Titanic Exhibit as today was the 100 year anniversary of the day the ship set off on its fateful voyage. The Bodies Exhibit was an exhibit where cadavers were preserved, dissected, skinned, sliced and injected with a type of polymer that made it possible to display them in unimaginable stages of dis-assembly and action poses that was a little disturbing at times. There was a wide array of bodies and parts of bodies on display and provided a very thorough lesson in anatomy from the circulatory system to the central nervous system and beyond. The exhibit consisted of twelve viewing rooms and one thing was for certain . . . the creator of the exhibit sure loved orientals and their penis'. Old Doc Donald Had An Exhibit E . . I . . E . . I . . O . . . With A Dick Dick Here . . . And A Dick Dick There . . . Here A Dick . . . There A Dick . . . Everywhere A Dick Dick. It was a plethora of Penis' on parade and we were all victims :-(

After the Penis parade it was off to the titanic Exhibit. I now know what the poor bastards on the Titanic must have felt like . . . Waiting in line for a lifeboat only to have some inconsiderate fucker cut you off . . . Well Kiss My Ass Rude People . . . Wait your fucking turn like everyone else in the free world. Don't think that because you are from another county and that's not how your rude cultures does it, that it goes around here, because it doesn't (That is enough ranting sorry). It's not like Vegas has a shortage of lines anyway . . . Ticket lines, buffet lines, baggage claim lines, taxi lines, cocaine lines . . . My point is Jesus Christ this was one hell of a line. As far as exhibits go this was a historic Sanford & Son-like display as the exhibit consisted of some artifacts that as you can imagine were seriously damaged and if not for the historical value would have been thrown out a long time ago. With that said I give it one thumb up (Two if I had them) based on the Hollywood History wrapped up in the exhibit . . . then again I'm not much of a museum person.

With the morning and early afternoon events behind us it was time to return to our rooms and perform a costume change for our evening adventure . . . A live comedy show at the Riviera Hotel . . . Not to be confused with Geraldo Rivera's house . . . As one of the cast aways had referred to it as "The Rivera". After some recuperation and reapplication of make up it was time to go to the MGM Grand Hotel to the Monorail station . . . Our chariot awaits! Did you know they have a 70 year old security guard posted at the entrance to the monorail station to deter “Gate Jumpers” . . . Holy Shit it was Barney Fife. Well we boarded the state of the art “Driver-less” monorail and in no time we were at our destination of the Las Vegas Hilton . . . Just a short walk to the riviera . . . Or so I thought. While not a long walk by Vegas standards it was through the most desolate stretch of street I think I have ever seen. It was like a creepy scene from the Omega man . . . not another soul around . . . the occasional paper would blow across the empty street. Once we arrived it was time for the Las Vegas tradition . . . The Buffet. The great thing about the buffet at the Riviera is they give you complimentary beer and wine and only $16.00 per person. After the beer buffet it was off to the comedy club for the show. This was a great comedy show where the comedians soon found their targets in the audience and thankfully we were not in the cross hairs.

After the show it was off to explore the Circus Circus which was across the street. The Circus Circus soon became know to the castaways as the “Ass Palace” as when we walk in the front door the warm smell of ass and cotton candy hit us right in the face. Everyone in the this house of feces was just walking around like there was no disgusting smell permeating their nostrils . . . Seriously . . . You can't fucking smell the stench of sweaty taint . . . Fuck! Needless to say our time at the ass palace was short lived and only last a disgusting five minutes. We rushed out into the night air where the smell of turds and candy apples couldn't follow us and the exhaust coming from the line of taxi's was like fresh scent of flowers compared the the ass matter that was hanging in the air inside the “Circ-ass Circ-ass Cassino”. After our horrific experience and a short stop in the Slots of Fun casino we took a short cab ride to the Hilton to catch the monorail back to the Excalibur as there was no was we were going to walk back . . . at night . . . down the street of rats and shriveled condoms . . . no matter how much the cab costs. The cab and monorail rides were uneventful and we were soon back in our rooms to wash the smells of Ass Matter and Vegas buffets from our bodies and get some well deserved shut eye. Can't wait to see what adventures await us . . . Until tomorrow . . . Elvis has left the building!

Marriage Can Be Murder . . . Calling Nurse Little . . .

Well the Castaways settled in and freshened up a little and it was time to head down to Fremont Street for our first nights entertainment. We jumped into our Las Vegas rickshaw (Taxi) and headed out for the adventure that awaited. The cab ride was uneventful and the driver was one that actually spoke English and actually lived in Modesto for ten years about seventeen years ago . . . What a small world.

We arrived at our destination, located the box office, picked up our VIP tickets . . . that's right VIP tickets . . . Nothing but the best for us. Actually the tickets were half off and on sale . . . Like I said . . . nothing too cheap for us! After the tickets were in hand it was time to get in the VIP line . . . Where the privileges were soon made apparent. The VIP's were the first to receive the well placed “Big Breast” humor from our evenings MC, yes some of the women attending the show had what some professionals might refer to as “Hooters” (that's what I've heard anyway). The VIP's were then asked what they wanted as their main course . . . Beef, Chicken, or Fish . . . Breasts for Pam and Joanie . . . Beef loaded with growth hormones for Dennis and Ray please. We were then escorted to our very exclusive front row seats and prepared for the evening by ordering a round of beers. It wasn't long before our hostess for the evening MiMi began by telling us the rules of the evening . . . there were none . . . SWEET!!!

During the beginning of her interactions with the crowd she asked if there was anyone who was a Nurse and naturally Joanie raised her hand . . . and being in the front row . . . was chosen to be Nurse Little for the evening's murders. This is where she would put her skills to work by checking murder victims vital signs . . . ignoring them . . . and pronouncing the victims dead anyway. MiMi's next player chosen was the assistant police woman to handle evidence when the murders occurred, a hand picked group of the finest “Air Band” musicians in the restaurant at the time, and finally all of the men with facial hair were designated as pall bearers and given one vinyl glove to assist with the moving of the bodies. If you guessed the Dennis and myself were pall bearers you were correct, but what you would have never guessed was that soon after the second murder both Dennis and I went to the restroom and were thus designated as a couple . . . a gay couple and we were required to stand up and perform the YMCA dance . . . and were we Fabulous!! (Too gay sounding?)

The evening was very entertaining . . . Murder, victim pronounced dead, evidence collected, bodies moved, and a musical funeral procession followed by . . . Murder, victim pronounced dead, evidence collected, bodies moved, and a musical funeral procession two more time for a grand total of three dead people. It was now the crowds job to figure out “Who Done It”? Going back to when we first sat down and MiMi was telling everyone that “Trust No One . . . People Aren't Who The Appear To Be”, both Pam and Dennis immediately pulled out their inner Colombo and pointed out the gentleman seated next to Dennis as a “Suspicious Fucker”, well maybe not Fucker I might have paraphrased a bit. The evening was just about over and the announcement was made as to who the murderer was . . . Pam and Dennis Colombo were absolutely correct . . . They didn't receive anything for their amazing sleuthing skills Damn It!!!

With dinner behind us and a great time had by all we all wandered around Fremont Street for while when it soon became apparent that it had been a long day. So we hailed a cab back to the Excalibur for some end of the evening gambling and then it was to bed for some well deserved shut eye. Stay tuned for more adventures from the Castaways . . . Peace Out My Bitches!!!!

Pam . . . Don't Look Down . . . We're Vegas Bound . . .

Well the Crows arrived promptly on the agreed upon time of 9:00am for the loading of the tonnage . . . I mean luggage. With the Bags loaded and everyone one safely in the Durango . . . It was off to Denny's for a PreVegas breakfast. Well it was soon evident that the Vegas Vacation was going to be interesting because as we all got in the Durango it soon became apparent that there was a problem with one of the rear windows. The window began to roll itself down as we left the Little house. That is when Dennis informed us that the windows plastic track inside the door had broken the night before, but not to worry because he had whittled down a piece of wood and securely jammed it under the window inside the door panel. Holy Shit let the adventure begin . . .

We soon arrived at the Salida Denny's and this is where we met our waiter Tweaker Billy. Holy shit talk about over friendly auctioneer of a waiter . . . can you say cocaine anybody! With the order placed and ranging from Pancake Puppy's to and All American Slam without cheese on the eggs the wait began, After a relatively short wait Tweaker Bill arrived with our food . . . Well almost everyone's food. As he passed out the food to all of the wrong people and after a brief session of “Musical Food” it was soon discovered that someone had taken the Puppies to the Pound . . . Where the hell are the Puppies was the chant at the table. It was soon evident to everyone at our table that Tweaker Bill was a few snorts short of a full blown Cocaine addiction which has unfortunately left him with only a few brain cells to use to wipe his own ass . . . and that's about it. After he realized his tip was on the line he tried to make it all better by delivering a complimentary bowl of fruit . . . that’s right . . . a fucking fruit cup . . . an old persons entree . . . Really? What the hell was he thinking . . . that by waving some melons and a few grapes would distract Joanie enough to realize that the food that she actually ordered wasn't what she was actually eating . . . What a Tool. With the rest of us at the table rapidly approaching empty plates . . . the Puppies arrived . . . like little balls of lava that Joanie couldn't eat because they were too hot. Was this really how the trip was going to begin?

Well it was soon evident that the Vegas Vacation was going to be interesting because as we all got back in the Durango it soon became apparent that there was a bigger problem with one of the rear windows than was first thought. The window began to roll itself down even further as we left the Denny's parking lot to the point that further repairs were in order. It was back to the Little house for tools and tape . . . the recommended repair solutions for Rednecks worldwide. After removing the door panel with the speed and accuracy of the best NASCAR pit crew the wood was once again jammed under the window and secured with seven and a half feet of black electrical tape. While it is well know that the preferred tape of all Rednecks is the Duct variety, many Hispanics have successfully repaired many a Chevy Impala with electrical tape, so all is well . . . or Bueno for my Hispanic readers. To avoid further delay in our departure the reattachment of the door panel was postponed until our return from Vegas. So with the theme song from Sanford And Son being hummed by the wounded Durango's passengers, we were off to the Stockton airport to check in for our flight.

Fast forward 35 minutes California time . . . Captains log 10:00am . . . Stockton airport.

The castaway's unloaded the tonnage . . . I mean luggage and headed for the terminal where a substantial line had already formed. After a 30 minute wait in line the bags were checked in and the castaway's with carry-ons in tow . . . headed to the bar. A round of adult beverages were ordered as a toast to a fun adventure and to signify the beginning of all things fun! After the beverages were consumed it was off to be fondled by our friends at the TSA. With shoes off, belts off and the caressing touch of the TSA man cupping my ball sack it was over as quickly as it had began. With the shallow promise from my new found TSA Ball Sack Buddy to stay in touch . . . it was time to board the plane.
We were instructed to board the plane from the rear of the plane . . . that’s right we climbed a set of stairs that ascended into the rectum of the plane . . . That's right I said it . . . the Rectum. We were soon settled into our assigned seats and were soon winging our way the Vegas . . . hitting every speed bump between here and there . . . much to Pam's delight . . . NOT! We arrived in Vegas 20 minutes early . . . What the hell do you mean 20 minutes early . . . Was there a shortcut that the other pilots don't know about. At any rate we landed safely then proceeded to wait on the tarmac for 30 minutes awaiting the gate to become open . . . that's right we arrived 20 minutes early only to arrive 10 minutes late . . . Holy shit . . . We discovered time travel . . . where time means nothing.

We made our way to retrieve the checked tonnage I mean baggage and then to the taxi line which went surprisingly smooth. After a brief ride to hotel we stood in the check in line for what seemed like an hour . . . holy Shit there was a Shitload of people checking in and on a Monday no less . . . Recession My Ass! While this process took a while it went off without a hitch . . . It was not without a Bitch. That's right our check in agent apparently left her personality at home because she made us feel as welcome as a whore in church. As Bitcherella helped us is soon was apparent that were weren't in Kansas any more . . . Thank god for alcohol.

We went to our rooms to freshen up and get ready for this evenings event . . . the murder mystery dinner show . . . Marriage Can Be Murder. Tune in for the next installment of Castaway theater , , ,

Pre-Vegas . . . The Nuts Get nailed Again!!!!

That's right it seems that when the Little's and Crow's get ready to hit the road on one of their famous outings aka vacations, the girls (fondly known as the “Nuts”) go get “Nailed” at Vickie's nails. This time it was the works for Pam and only new claws for Joanie.

I was again secure enough in my maleness to chaperone the event once again. There I sat getting high as a kite again . . . Holy shit I do not know how you women fucking do it. I think I have found the source of you so called “Headaches” when the time is right . . . You all are coming down off your “Nail Polish High”. All and all it was uneventful, and I even got to pick out the color of nail polish that Pam would use on her toes. I told you I was secure in my maleness . . . no matter how gay it sounded!

After the nails were done it was a quick trip to Target for a last minute lube purchase then off to the Crows to meet up for Dinner. We had a fine Mexican meal at Las Consuelas where it was Sopes for all as well as a Pre-Vegas Pitcher of Margaritas. Sometimes everyone just needs a pitcher of margaritas . . . You know what I'm saying. After a fabulous dinner it was back to the Crow's Nest for some last minute strategies. After everyone had their assignments and all questions were answered we left and I decided that Joanie was in deep need of a Kindle Fire and I stopped by Best Buy on the way and purchased Joanie a new technology packed busy box . . . guess who is get some on this trip. That's right . . . you guessed it . . . the Pigs on Angry Birds . . . She annihilated the little bastards!

We soon arrived home where the final stages of packing were completed and sleep was in order. Tune in to tomorrows installment when the Vegas Bound castaways take flight . . .