If we ever win another shootout, I'm doing this. Or not...
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Talk To Me, Dammit!
Probably by next week, I'm going to get my 10,000th hit on this site. In that time, do you know how many feedback comments I've gotten?
One. One lousy comment, because I got the wrong name in one of my pictures. Shit.
C'mon, boys and girls! I'd love to hear from you guys, especially those that are regularly reading from a different part of the country, or the world, for that matter. There are actually quite a few of you. It's amazing how this stuff gets around- I especially get a bunch of hits on the goofy pictures.
For example, there's someone in Redwood City, California that tunes in every week. Who are you, and what brought you here? It would be fun to know. I'm assuming you're acquainted with someone on the Dawgs hockey team, but I can't know that unless you tell me.
I also get tons of hits that just say "United States". Now, that doesn't narrow it down much, does it?
Don't be afraid, kids. If you can relate to my vacation debacle, tell me about your experience. If you're an old, fat guy clinging to his youth like I am, let me know if you wake up after a game feeling 90 years old like I do.
Just click comment at the end of an article, and give your chubby little pal some feedback. I've been flying solo for way too long. Let's hear from you.
One. One lousy comment, because I got the wrong name in one of my pictures. Shit.
C'mon, boys and girls! I'd love to hear from you guys, especially those that are regularly reading from a different part of the country, or the world, for that matter. There are actually quite a few of you. It's amazing how this stuff gets around- I especially get a bunch of hits on the goofy pictures.
For example, there's someone in Redwood City, California that tunes in every week. Who are you, and what brought you here? It would be fun to know. I'm assuming you're acquainted with someone on the Dawgs hockey team, but I can't know that unless you tell me.
I also get tons of hits that just say "United States". Now, that doesn't narrow it down much, does it?
Don't be afraid, kids. If you can relate to my vacation debacle, tell me about your experience. If you're an old, fat guy clinging to his youth like I am, let me know if you wake up after a game feeling 90 years old like I do.
Just click comment at the end of an article, and give your chubby little pal some feedback. I've been flying solo for way too long. Let's hear from you.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Dawgs Crack the MAAK, 9-3
How long can this thing go?
The Dawgs I squad stretched their EAHL unbeaten string to 18 and and improved to 5-0 for the current season with a 9-3 ass kicking over MAAK Holdings. Their last league loss came in the winter playoffs at the end of February.
Center Dan Pham, playing on a new line this week, responded by scoring four goals, bringing his season total to a team leading nine. Dennis Heaton continues his courageous comeback from a bout with Salesman Neck, scoring two more, while son Michael put in one.
The Heaton boys
Assistant captain Shaun Hollis, actually making it through the entire game this week without being ejected, scored his eighth while adding two assists, and real estate mogul Chris Acuna tallied his first of the winter campaign.
Goalie Al Sterner stopped 30 of 33 MAAK shots, but hurt his back in the second period after giving up a soft goal on a fluttering shot to his glove side. He turned his head too fast to look at the puck weakly floating into the net, and hasn't felt right ever since.
You'd think he'd be used to it
Pham, after scoring two goals last week against HTM Construction, really caught fire this game while being matched up on a line with Hollis and Matt McGarvey. The three young players combined for 10 points on the evening, and using the first letters in their last names, will now be known as the "Hump Line".
Get it? HMP? Hump?
And in what many consider to be a miracle, Pham actually picked up his first assist of the season. In the third period, after Pham attempted to shoot on goal from his own zone, the puck was intercepted by Hollis, who was stationed in his usual spot at the MAAK blue line. Hollis skated in alone, and backhanded the puck over goalie Cody Thron for the game's final goal.
Hollis
Right before the end of the game, a frustrated MAAK forward Jim Wood tried to bump stocky Dawgs goalie Sterner. What Wood didn't realize is that Sterner, with his pads on, weighs approximately 325 pounds. That collision didn't go well for Wood.
Stay down, bitch
The Dawgs now face maybe their toughest test of the season Tuesday night, when they play the Misfits. The Misfits are composed of many of the players from the Icebreakers, whom the Dawgs defeated for the summer league championship. Game time is 9:20.
In other Dawgs news:
Dawgs forward/defenseman Chris Acuna continues to look for creative ways to sell real estate in a tough market. This is his old promotional photo:
This is his new one:
Between periods of the game this week, the referee passes a giant kidney stone, and hands it to the scorekeeper
"Do you have a lttle cup?"
Part-time Dawgs forward Jack Kelly fell asleep on the bench before the game this week.
"zzzzzzz....money....zzzzzzz....cash....zzzzzzz....T-bills....."
Because of his wife Kathleen being out of town this week, a frisky defenseman Ben Ziff attempts to mount teammate Chris Acuna.
"Ziffer, get off me! Wait, do you want to buy a house?"
Dawgs II forward Nick Cortese this week found a sport in which he can compete with people his own age.
"I just like wearing the banana hammock"
New Dawgs forward Bernie Levesque shows everyone on the ice that he is proud of his French roots.
Dawgs captain Marty Richardson took a short trip to San Francisco this week to visit an old friend.
The Dawgs I squad stretched their EAHL unbeaten string to 18 and and improved to 5-0 for the current season with a 9-3 ass kicking over MAAK Holdings. Their last league loss came in the winter playoffs at the end of February.
Center Dan Pham, playing on a new line this week, responded by scoring four goals, bringing his season total to a team leading nine. Dennis Heaton continues his courageous comeback from a bout with Salesman Neck, scoring two more, while son Michael put in one.
The Heaton boys
Assistant captain Shaun Hollis, actually making it through the entire game this week without being ejected, scored his eighth while adding two assists, and real estate mogul Chris Acuna tallied his first of the winter campaign.
Goalie Al Sterner stopped 30 of 33 MAAK shots, but hurt his back in the second period after giving up a soft goal on a fluttering shot to his glove side. He turned his head too fast to look at the puck weakly floating into the net, and hasn't felt right ever since.
You'd think he'd be used to it
Pham, after scoring two goals last week against HTM Construction, really caught fire this game while being matched up on a line with Hollis and Matt McGarvey. The three young players combined for 10 points on the evening, and using the first letters in their last names, will now be known as the "Hump Line".
Get it? HMP? Hump?
And in what many consider to be a miracle, Pham actually picked up his first assist of the season. In the third period, after Pham attempted to shoot on goal from his own zone, the puck was intercepted by Hollis, who was stationed in his usual spot at the MAAK blue line. Hollis skated in alone, and backhanded the puck over goalie Cody Thron for the game's final goal.
Hollis
Right before the end of the game, a frustrated MAAK forward Jim Wood tried to bump stocky Dawgs goalie Sterner. What Wood didn't realize is that Sterner, with his pads on, weighs approximately 325 pounds. That collision didn't go well for Wood.
Stay down, bitch
The Dawgs now face maybe their toughest test of the season Tuesday night, when they play the Misfits. The Misfits are composed of many of the players from the Icebreakers, whom the Dawgs defeated for the summer league championship. Game time is 9:20.
In other Dawgs news:
Dawgs forward/defenseman Chris Acuna continues to look for creative ways to sell real estate in a tough market. This is his old promotional photo:
This is his new one:
Between periods of the game this week, the referee passes a giant kidney stone, and hands it to the scorekeeper
"Do you have a lttle cup?"
Part-time Dawgs forward Jack Kelly fell asleep on the bench before the game this week.
"zzzzzzz....money....zzzzzzz....cash....zzzzzzz....T-bills....."
Because of his wife Kathleen being out of town this week, a frisky defenseman Ben Ziff attempts to mount teammate Chris Acuna.
"Ziffer, get off me! Wait, do you want to buy a house?"
Dawgs II forward Nick Cortese this week found a sport in which he can compete with people his own age.
"I just like wearing the banana hammock"
New Dawgs forward Bernie Levesque shows everyone on the ice that he is proud of his French roots.
Dawgs captain Marty Richardson took a short trip to San Francisco this week to visit an old friend.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Dawgs Tear Down HTM Construction, 9-4
The Dawgs continue to go through the early EAHL schedule like crap through a goose. Tuesday night, they scored early, often, and rolled again to an easy 9-4 win over HTM Construction. The win now extends their EAHL unbeaten streak to 17 games.
Young forward Matt McGarvey, playing half the game without linemate and occasional fanny pal Shaun Hollis, netted a big three goal hat trick. Center Dam Pham continued his solid early season play, putting in his fourth and fifth.
McGarvey, left
The father and son team of Dennis and Michael Heaton each notched a goal, while French-Canadian wetback immigrant Bernie Levesque scored his third of the winter campaign. Star forward Shaun Hollis managed to tally one goal before being ejected due to some personal anger issues in the middle of the second period.
Goalie Al Sterner, after holding HTM to one goal for two periods, melted down in the third, giving up three softies when the effects of his pregame energy drink wore off.
Needs a larger can
The Dawgs came out hard right from the opening drop, pounding four goals past HTM goalie Brad Rowan in the first period. They increased their lead to 7-1 after two, highlighted by a strange goal from 50 year old Dennis Heaton.
While on a power play, Heaton was stationed to Rowan's left. When an errant shot was headed wide, the puck struck Heaton's colostomy bag, and deflected into the net for his first of the season.
The second period also featured the ejection of assistant captain Hollis, who in the early season had shown great restraint in the face of confrontation on the ice. After the game, it was revealed that Hollis was distraught over his recent breakup with pre-teen actress Dakota Fanning.
She was just the right age, too. What a bummer...
The Dawgs pretty much took the third period off, but still had a big enough lead to coast home with their fourth victory against no losses this season.
The boys now put their long unbeaten streak on the line Tuesday night, when they face MAAK Holdings. Game time is set for 10:20.
In other Dawgs news:
With his performance this week, McGarvey is now tied for the team lead in goals, with six. Hollis also has six, while Dan Pham just trails with five. Pham has yet to pick up an assist this season, leading many experts to believe that he is a selfish prick. This was confirmed by a recent magazine cover shoot for Pham.
Dawgs II forward Eddie Cribbs this week decided to stop playing games with the new women he dates, and just cut right to the chase.
Cribbs
Dawg Nation hero Travis "Bloody Fist" Hollis stayed undefeated for his young career in mixed martial arts last Saturday night, going to 3-0 with a unanimous decision over Matt Cox. In order to generate more publicity for his next fight, he will now be known as the Travis "Golden Bulge" Hollis.
That's actually a Bartlett pear, girls. Settle down...
This week Matt McGarvey and Shaun Hollis accepted roles in the sequel to their favorite date movie.
Young forward Matt McGarvey, playing half the game without linemate and occasional fanny pal Shaun Hollis, netted a big three goal hat trick. Center Dam Pham continued his solid early season play, putting in his fourth and fifth.
McGarvey, left
The father and son team of Dennis and Michael Heaton each notched a goal, while French-Canadian wetback immigrant Bernie Levesque scored his third of the winter campaign. Star forward Shaun Hollis managed to tally one goal before being ejected due to some personal anger issues in the middle of the second period.
Goalie Al Sterner, after holding HTM to one goal for two periods, melted down in the third, giving up three softies when the effects of his pregame energy drink wore off.
Needs a larger can
The Dawgs came out hard right from the opening drop, pounding four goals past HTM goalie Brad Rowan in the first period. They increased their lead to 7-1 after two, highlighted by a strange goal from 50 year old Dennis Heaton.
While on a power play, Heaton was stationed to Rowan's left. When an errant shot was headed wide, the puck struck Heaton's colostomy bag, and deflected into the net for his first of the season.
The second period also featured the ejection of assistant captain Hollis, who in the early season had shown great restraint in the face of confrontation on the ice. After the game, it was revealed that Hollis was distraught over his recent breakup with pre-teen actress Dakota Fanning.
She was just the right age, too. What a bummer...
The Dawgs pretty much took the third period off, but still had a big enough lead to coast home with their fourth victory against no losses this season.
The boys now put their long unbeaten streak on the line Tuesday night, when they face MAAK Holdings. Game time is set for 10:20.
In other Dawgs news:
With his performance this week, McGarvey is now tied for the team lead in goals, with six. Hollis also has six, while Dan Pham just trails with five. Pham has yet to pick up an assist this season, leading many experts to believe that he is a selfish prick. This was confirmed by a recent magazine cover shoot for Pham.
Dawgs II forward Eddie Cribbs this week decided to stop playing games with the new women he dates, and just cut right to the chase.
Cribbs
Dawg Nation hero Travis "Bloody Fist" Hollis stayed undefeated for his young career in mixed martial arts last Saturday night, going to 3-0 with a unanimous decision over Matt Cox. In order to generate more publicity for his next fight, he will now be known as the Travis "Golden Bulge" Hollis.
That's actually a Bartlett pear, girls. Settle down...
This week Matt McGarvey and Shaun Hollis accepted roles in the sequel to their favorite date movie.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse (Final Chapter)
Now for both of you out there who still read this shit, let's just take a moment to figure out where we left off last time. Hey, I have an idea. Let's do it TV style:
Previously, on Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse:
Universal Studios was barely okay, L.A. traffic made me want to off myself, and some dickweed trucker rolled over on the I-15 freeway, killing himself and my family's chance to pet Shamu the Whale in San Diego. My daughter dropped a giant deuce in her swimsuit at the beach, we decided to drive screaming out of California a day early, and we had to cross the desert into Nevada at 113 degrees.
Okay, we're caught up. Hang on to your ass, kids- we're almost home.
Thursday, July 24th Primm, Nevada
We arrived at Buffalo Bill's Hotel and Casino around 7:00 Thursday night, after being caught in one traffic jam or another all day long in different parts of California. We were all tired, hungry, and ready to be out of the van for awhile.
They gave us a room on the top floor (15th) that had a strange odor; sort of a combination of failure, old people and ass. It wasn't a very nice place, but at that point I didn't give a shit. We needed a place to stay at the last minute, after our San Diego trip went down the crapper earlier. I figured this would do for one night.
We went downstairs, where they had a buffet restaurant, and chowed down on soggy shrimp and something that might have been roast beef. Or it might have been something they scraped off the highway. Not a real gourmet meal, the Buffalo Bill's Buffet.
So after that, we had to go swimming. We had gone swimming every night for six straight days, because The Girl wouldn't stop asking me about it until we went. It was around 8:30 when we went to the giant pool that was shaped like, you guessed it, a big buffalo. Buffalo? Bill's? Get it? We all just laughed and laughed...
We noticed that the lights weren't on when we got out there, and then I saw a sign that said that the pool closed at 8:00. Who the crap closes a hotel pool at 8? At that point in time, I was not ready to tell The Girl that she couldn't swim, when that was all she talked about for the last four hours of our ride during the afternoon. No friggin' way.
Screw it. Let's jump in until they kick us out. We actually got about a half hour in before some little old bastard that looked like he fell off a charm bracelet made us leave. So we barricaded the kids in the room, went downstairs and lost some money playing Pai Gow Poker, while drinking nasty Long Island Iced Teas. Everything about the hotel was kind of like Madonna- old and skanky.
We would discover just how skanky the next morning. Remember, this hotel was my idea.
Friday, July 25th- Las Vegas, Nevada
I opened my eyes Friday morning, only to discover that my lovely wife Annie was standing above me, staring a hole right through me. She was doing the old Vulcan Mind Meld, trying to wake my ass up.
"Allen, come into the bathroom. I need to talk to you."
Oh, shit.
"Allen! Now!"
So I rubbed my eyes, struggled out of bed, and went in to see what could possibly be so urgent. I thought maybe she caught one of the older boys whackin' the weasel in the shower. It wouldn't have surprised me- shit, I set a world record when I was their age. It was brilliant.
Well, imagine my surprise when I opened the door, and there she was, standing on the toilet. Swear to God.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"We have cockroaches!"
In the immortal words of Scooby Doo, ruh-roh...
We all have our things that make us jump on toilets. For me, it's mice. I hate those fast moving, come out of nowhere sons of bitches. Yeah, I know. I'm a pussy. Kiss my ass.
For my little wifey, it's big bugs and spiders.
"Where are they?", I said, hoping that she wouldn't remember that I picked the hotel.
"In the closet, under our suitcase."
So I looked under there, and sure as shit, there was a whole herd of those little bastards. How the hell did they make it up to the 15th floor? After I lifted the suitcase, they scattered like, well, cockroaches. I managed to stomp the piss out of a few to make Annie think I was semi-useful.
Still standing on the toilet, Annie announced, "We're leaving right now. Everybody pack up".
Previously, on Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse:
Universal Studios was barely okay, L.A. traffic made me want to off myself, and some dickweed trucker rolled over on the I-15 freeway, killing himself and my family's chance to pet Shamu the Whale in San Diego. My daughter dropped a giant deuce in her swimsuit at the beach, we decided to drive screaming out of California a day early, and we had to cross the desert into Nevada at 113 degrees.
Okay, we're caught up. Hang on to your ass, kids- we're almost home.
Thursday, July 24th Primm, Nevada
We arrived at Buffalo Bill's Hotel and Casino around 7:00 Thursday night, after being caught in one traffic jam or another all day long in different parts of California. We were all tired, hungry, and ready to be out of the van for awhile.
They gave us a room on the top floor (15th) that had a strange odor; sort of a combination of failure, old people and ass. It wasn't a very nice place, but at that point I didn't give a shit. We needed a place to stay at the last minute, after our San Diego trip went down the crapper earlier. I figured this would do for one night.
We went downstairs, where they had a buffet restaurant, and chowed down on soggy shrimp and something that might have been roast beef. Or it might have been something they scraped off the highway. Not a real gourmet meal, the Buffalo Bill's Buffet.
So after that, we had to go swimming. We had gone swimming every night for six straight days, because The Girl wouldn't stop asking me about it until we went. It was around 8:30 when we went to the giant pool that was shaped like, you guessed it, a big buffalo. Buffalo? Bill's? Get it? We all just laughed and laughed...
We noticed that the lights weren't on when we got out there, and then I saw a sign that said that the pool closed at 8:00. Who the crap closes a hotel pool at 8? At that point in time, I was not ready to tell The Girl that she couldn't swim, when that was all she talked about for the last four hours of our ride during the afternoon. No friggin' way.
Screw it. Let's jump in until they kick us out. We actually got about a half hour in before some little old bastard that looked like he fell off a charm bracelet made us leave. So we barricaded the kids in the room, went downstairs and lost some money playing Pai Gow Poker, while drinking nasty Long Island Iced Teas. Everything about the hotel was kind of like Madonna- old and skanky.
We would discover just how skanky the next morning. Remember, this hotel was my idea.
Friday, July 25th- Las Vegas, Nevada
I opened my eyes Friday morning, only to discover that my lovely wife Annie was standing above me, staring a hole right through me. She was doing the old Vulcan Mind Meld, trying to wake my ass up.
"Allen, come into the bathroom. I need to talk to you."
Oh, shit.
"Allen! Now!"
So I rubbed my eyes, struggled out of bed, and went in to see what could possibly be so urgent. I thought maybe she caught one of the older boys whackin' the weasel in the shower. It wouldn't have surprised me- shit, I set a world record when I was their age. It was brilliant.
Well, imagine my surprise when I opened the door, and there she was, standing on the toilet. Swear to God.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"We have cockroaches!"
In the immortal words of Scooby Doo, ruh-roh...
We all have our things that make us jump on toilets. For me, it's mice. I hate those fast moving, come out of nowhere sons of bitches. Yeah, I know. I'm a pussy. Kiss my ass.
For my little wifey, it's big bugs and spiders.
"Where are they?", I said, hoping that she wouldn't remember that I picked the hotel.
"In the closet, under our suitcase."
So I looked under there, and sure as shit, there was a whole herd of those little bastards. How the hell did they make it up to the 15th floor? After I lifted the suitcase, they scattered like, well, cockroaches. I managed to stomp the piss out of a few to make Annie think I was semi-useful.
Still standing on the toilet, Annie announced, "We're leaving right now. Everybody pack up".
"Honey, I'd like to shower before..."
"Now!"
So we quickly threw everything in the suitcases, and off we went. Hell, NASCAR pit crews would have been proud of how fast we packed and hit the bricks. Because it was really the only place to have breakfast, we stopped at the McDonald's in the hotel's food court to eat before we took off. You can bet your sweet ass that I took a good look inside my Egg McMuffin before I took a bite of that sumbitch.
Believe it or not, Annie didn't really feel like eating, so she took the bags outside to load them up in the car. When we came out to join her, she was just standing there with kind of a blank look on her face. I could tell she had been crying.
I said, "What's wrong, sweetie?"
"I opened the suitcase, and a cockroach ran across my hand. It was the grossest thing I've ever seen."
And this was coming from a girl that cleaned up an enormous shit brick out of my daughter's swimsuit just the day before.
I may be going out on a limb, but I'll bet the house that we won't be ever staying at the Buffalo Bill's Hotel and Casino again.
So we got back on the road, and made our way towards Vegas, and the Gold Coast Hotel. We tried to get the Orleans again because of the great pool, but they were booked up. They were both owned by the same company, so we knew we could still use the Orleans pool if the Gold Coast's sucked.
It only took us 40 minutes to get to Vegas. In retrospect, we should have called ahead to the Gold Coast and stayed there the extra night instead of Cockroach Towers. Annie pointed that out to me more than once.
We got there around 11:00, and the nice people at the Gold Coast let us check in early. But there was one tiny little thing they forgot to tell us when we made our reservations. There was construction going on at the hotel, and they hoped we wouldn't mind the jackhammers and shit outside our room all day long.
Crap, I'd just spent eight days in a van with four kids. I'd lost most of my hearing and the will to live many moons ago.
So we went up and found our room. Just to be safe, before we unpacked our suitcases, we inspected it for wildlife. Finding none, we got settled in.
We decided to go to the downtown area of Vegas, and see if the Fremont Street Experience was in operation. For those of you that don't know, it's a covered area of around six blocks, and they show real cool images on the ceiling, like this:
What we didn't know was that the Experience only happened at night, and during the day it looks like this:
So that sucked, but while we were down there, we did stop by the Golden Nugget, and see the world's largest, you guessed it, gold nugget. It looked eerily similar to the world's largest brown nugget that The Girl had deposited in her Baby Speedos at the beach yesterday.
That killed about 30 seconds. Time to move on.
Our next stop was Circus Circus, because we knew they had a huge arcade where the kids could maybe win some souvenirs. We actually had some fun there, because your chubby little pal is a Skeeball playing mother ripper. I was able to win stuffed toys for all the kids, and not spend an arm and a leg. I was so proud.
Next, we went next door to the Slots of Fun Casino, and all lunched on the 99 cent foot-long chili dog. That baby is huge, and surprisingly good. While I was eating, I took a moment to wonder what that chili dog would look like next week, when The Girl finally pooped again. I guessed probably about the same, minus the bun.
I may have been fixating on poop a little too much. But you really should have seen that motherlode The Girl left in her one-piece at the beach. Tough to get that picture out of my mind.
Anyway, after that we went back to the hotel, because it was 109 degrees, and shockingly The Girl wanted to go swimming. We checked out the Gold Coast pool, and it was tiny. So we got in the van, and drove the half mile over to the Orleans.
When we got there, I took off my shirt to go swimming, and the kids kind of gasped. I said, "What's wrong?"
"Dad, you look like a giant tomato."
I knew I had gotten a little too much sun at the beach the previous day, but I didn't realize how much. I was fried. The kids were right. I looked like a tomato. But not the healthy, ripe kind. More like a stewed tomato- all saggy and shit. Only with lots of fur (I look a little like a Chia Pet). I didn't know then, but that sunburn was going to jack up my sleep for the next week.
So we did the swimming thing for a couple of hours. I stayed in the shade most of the time, and rubbed immense amounts of sunblock on my lumpy crimson carcass. Nobody dropped a giant growler in their shorts, so it was a big afternoon.
We gathered our stuff to go back to the Gold Coast so we could clean up, have some dinner, and take the hotel shuttle to The Strip and see the only other thing we wanted to see for the evening: the beautiful fountains at the Bellagio.
When we got to the parking garage, we saw a bunch of police and firemen lined up at the doors leading out to our car. I thought maybe they were collecting early for Jerry's Kids.
Not so much...
Fucking bomb scare.
You have got to be shitting me. In the past week, I thought we had seen it all. Multiple mechanical failures on amusement park rides, traffic jams out the wazoo, missing an entire day at Seaworld, almost getting hit by a flaming, out of control trailer, a cockroach stampede, and several tragic poopie incidents. And now a goddamn bomb scare? Really?
"Sir, we don't know how long this is going to take. We'll need you to go on back into the casino, and we'll let you know when we get the 'all clear', or when your van explodes into several million pieces. You might want to steer clear of any glass for a bit. And please make sure you check the organ donor box on your driver's license. Welcome to Las Vegas."
We hung out for about 90 minutes. They hadn't found whatever they were looking for, and had no clue when the garage was going to open back up. We were all still in our swimming suits- we were just going to change when we got back to our room. I had a serious ball wedgie from that mesh thing inside a guy's swimsuit that holds his junk in place. Not good times...
So we finally opted to abandon the van, and take the shuttle that goes back and forth between the Orleans and the Gold Coast. We weren't going to use the car to go to the strip anyway, so hopefully we could pick it up later Friday night. Or at least identify a charred license plate for the police.
Just more improv on the run from the Sterner family. We'd gotten good at it.
After waiting a half hour for the shuttle (the hotels were only half a freaking mile apart, for Christ's sake- I assumed the driver was getting a hum job somewhere), we made it back to the Gold Coast. There were big lines at the buffet and other restaurants, and we sure couldn't drive anywhere else, so we went for the luxury dining experience: The Gold Coast bowling alley snack bar. Bitchin'.
I grew up in bowling alleys, so I think the food is great. Nothing like a big old burger and fries, still dripping the oil from the fryer that hasn't been changed in six years. The kids liked it, too. Annie wasn't nearly as impressed.
After consuming the Heart Attack in a Basket, we got back on the other shuttle that would take us to the Bellagio. When we got there, we noticed something straightaway. There aren't many families with little kids on The Strip on Friday nights. To steal a phrase from Jim Rome, we stuck out like a boner in sweatpants.
If you haven't seen the Bellagio fountain show, it's unbelievably gorgeous. They play different songs every 15 minutes, and the fountains go off in sync with the music. I know it sounds kinda gay, but you really have to check it out to see how impressive it is. I'll bet it cost at least $100 to build that mamma-jamma.
So we sat through a few songs, and then went back for the shuttle that would return us to the Orleans, where we'd find out if our van blowed up real good. I was actually surprised when we got there and the vehicle was still in one piece. It would have been the perfect end to our family vacation.
It was around 10:00 when we got back to the Gold Coast. Between the cucarachas and the WMD at the Orleans from earlier, Annie didn't even feel like going downstairs, hammering some Long Islands, and playing some Pai Gow. So I went stag for a little while.
I found a $10 table, and sat down (for you gambling gringos, that means you have to bet at least 10 bucks per hand). A couple of minutes later, a well dressed foreign guy sat down next to me, and laid out $5000 in cash to buy chips. I guessed he was from like Turkey, or Morocco, or maybe Jersey. For our purposes, I'll just call him Omar.
So they gave Omar a shitload of chips for his five grand, and he layed $1000 down for his first bet. Just try to imagine how insignificant my $10 bet looked next to Omar's. You've heard of penis envy? I had chip envy. Fuckin' foreigners...
To make things even worse, Omar then fired up an unfiltered Camel, and plopped his ashtray right down next to me. I think Las Vegas is the only place left in the world where you can still smoke indoors. I grew up with cigarette smoke wafting in my face, but I wasn't used to it anymore, and it bothered me- big time. I lightly waved my hand in front of my nose, just to give him a little hint. He either didn't notice or didn't give a shit, because the lung rocket stayed right there in the ashtray.
I knew it was petty, but it became important to me for Omar to lose. And he did just that on the first hand. He pushed out another grand. He lost again. Two thousand bucks had gone poof in about two minutes. I tied the dealer, or pushed, twice, so my $10 was still sitting there. Take that, sand jockey.
Omar muttered something I assumed was a swear word in Moroccan, and put out yet another $1000 bet. Poof...
To quickly review, Omar had just lost in three minutes around the same amount of money that we had just spent for the whole week of vacation. The good news was that I won my hand, and happily stacked both of those red five dollar chips on top of the eight others I had in front of me. Cha-ching!
Now Omar was pissed. He bet his last $2000, and I think put a curse on the dealer's goat. He took a huge drag off of his unfiltered Camel, and put it back down, where it continued to send smoke straight up my right nostril.
Come on, baby, one more time...
Poof.
In four minutes, Omar waved "ma arsalema" (that's buh-bye in Moroccan- thanks Wikipedia) to five thousand dollars. David Copperfield couldn't have made that shit disappear faster. I covered my mouth so he couldn't see me smile.
I hadn't been this happy since I set that world record for "burping the worm" in the shower all those years ago.
Omar then demonstrated that he could also swear in English. He got up, told the poor little Asian dealer to go make love to herself, and stomped off. But he did leave the Camel burning in the ashtray, just to be sure that I would have a spot on my lung next time I go in for a physical.
Thanks, Omar. Have a great weekend, you Middle Eastern piece of shit. Oh, and you might want to mix in some Mennen's Speed Stick.
After all the excitement, I stayed for another hour, actually made $80 for a change, and went upstairs to bed. We had a long drive the next day.
Saturday, July 26th- Green River, Utah
Saturday morning, we happily left Las Vegas, and headed back east towards home. It took us about three hours, but we finally got out of the goddamn desert heat, and into something a little more normal, like 90 degrees. Very slick planning on our part, that vacation in the middle of the summer.
We didn't want to drive the entire 12 hours home Saturday, so we thought we'd go about halfway, which was Green River, Utah. It sounded pretty- the perfect place to spend our final night of vacation.
Well, we were so very, very wrong one more time. Green River was just another boil on Mother Nature's ass. The whole town can't have a thousand people in it, and it's fugly. The river isn't green, it's this crappy brown color. But I guess "Shit River" wouldn't look very good in the travel brochures.
There were no fast food places in Shit River, so we went to one of the two restaurants in town. I can't remember the real name of the place, but we ended up calling it Sam 'n Ella's. (Say that name real fast. Try it again. Ah, there you got it.)
It was Saturday night, so the entire town was there, I think. Zebediah, and his seven wives (this was Utah, after all); Merle from the fillin' station; Skeeter, the town sheriff; the whole gang. I think I was in a little self-destructive phase, because I ordered a big burrito with green chili.
I'll spare you the details about how I reacted to the Sam 'n Ella's burrito. Let's just say that the porcelain in our hotel room toilet, the wallpaper in the bathroom, and my kids' olfactory senses will never be quite the same. I left an extra 50 cents for the maid on Sunday morning- she certainly earned that four bits. Holy jumpin' smokes...
Anyway, we got the hell out of Morman country early Sunday morning, and drove the last six hours home. I can't tell you how great it was to get back to my own bed, back to my own DVR, and back to a place that doesn't have a swimming pool.
It was also great to get away from the kids for a while. Don't get me wrong- I love my kids more than my DVR (well, it's close), but we had been together for nine days straight. It was time for us to spend some time apart. Like three weeks.
So just to review- this was the Sterner family at the start of the vacation (click photos to enlarge):
And this was the Sterner family after:
Well, boys and girls, that's the story of our summer vacation. Thanks for letting me get that out- I feel a little bit better.
I've had a bunch of people ask me if all the crap that I described in the first three installments actually happened, or was I making it up for the story? It does seem a bit far fetched, doesn't it?
Kids, I have a confession. In chapter three, activists didn't try to push me back into the sea while I was laying on the beach, and clear out my blowhole. I made that up. But other than that, everything else really happened. No shit.
Now that it's over, what would we do differently? If Tinkerbell could wave her magic wand, and we could change anything, what would it be? I have a few thoughts:
1) I don't think we'd plan something for every day of the vacation. There would be a day or two where we would just hang out, or spend a whole day at the beach. Some time where we would just play it by ear. We definitely crammed 10 pounds of shit in a five pound bag, timewise.
2) We wouldn't drive in the desert in the middle of July. We were kind of screwed, because we have such a short window between little league seasons. This was really the only time we could go, but it was a hot sonofabitch.
3) I imagine we wouldn't have stayed at Buffalo Bill's Hotel, Casino, and Cockroach Preserve. I'm almost sure on that one.
4) We wouldn't have gone to Universal Studios. It just wasn't worth it to deal with L.A. traffic. I'll never piss and moan about Denver traffic ever again. What a nightmare.
5) We wouldn't let the kids drink any liquids all week. We stopped 147 goddamn times to pee. Dehydration is a risk I'd be willing to take.6) I'd be taller. She's got a magic wand, right? I'm just saying...
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse (Part 3)
Okay, so when we last left our vacation epic, we had just finished three less-than magical days at Disneyland. But we were far from done, kids. We still had two more days in California before we had to pack up, and head back to the relative sanity of Colorado.
Let's resume, shall we?
Wednesday, July 23rd- Universal Studios, Los Angeles
We were staying in Anaheim, which is around 30 miles from Los Angeles, and our next stop, Universal Studios. We decided to sleep in a bit after three full days at Disney, and leave the hotel at 10:00, to avoid the rush hour jam on Interstate Five, or just "The 5".
We were so wrong about so many things this week, why the hell should we stop now? It took us 90 minutes to drive those 30 goddamn miles. The closer we got to L.A., the worse the traffic got. I discovered later that there are several better ways to get there than taking The 5, but that's what Mapquest told me to do. And there are two things I don't disobey- Mapquest, and my Magic 8-Ball.
There was no wreck. There was no bad weather. There was no construction. That's the way traffic is all the time in California. Now I know why people shoot at each other on the highways out there. They're bored. They need something to do while they're waiting to move.
While we were waiting in the jam, I made a mental list of the things that I would rather do than live in Los Angeles, or anywhere in California.
Here is a sampling from my list:
Let's resume, shall we?
Wednesday, July 23rd- Universal Studios, Los Angeles
We were staying in Anaheim, which is around 30 miles from Los Angeles, and our next stop, Universal Studios. We decided to sleep in a bit after three full days at Disney, and leave the hotel at 10:00, to avoid the rush hour jam on Interstate Five, or just "The 5".
We were so wrong about so many things this week, why the hell should we stop now? It took us 90 minutes to drive those 30 goddamn miles. The closer we got to L.A., the worse the traffic got. I discovered later that there are several better ways to get there than taking The 5, but that's what Mapquest told me to do. And there are two things I don't disobey- Mapquest, and my Magic 8-Ball.
There was no wreck. There was no bad weather. There was no construction. That's the way traffic is all the time in California. Now I know why people shoot at each other on the highways out there. They're bored. They need something to do while they're waiting to move.
While we were waiting in the jam, I made a mental list of the things that I would rather do than live in Los Angeles, or anywhere in California.
Here is a sampling from my list:
I would rather watch a two week continuous reel of "St. Elmo's Fire" than live in California.
I would rather make sweet love to Rosie O'Donnell, and have her sing show tunes at the same time.
I would rather dip my junk in a tank of piranhas that haven't eaten in a month.
I would rather get a lap dance from Hillary Clinton.
Anyway, we pulled in to Universal around 11:30, and spent the day. We had no intention of coming back through L.A. during rush hour, so we knew we'd be there until around 7:00. We had until 11:00 the next morning to check out of the hotel, so we thought maybe we could get back in 16 hours if we caught a break with the traffic.
I don't know if it was because we had a Disneyland hangover, but Universal wasn't all that great.
The first thing we did was take the studio tour, which had it's moments. You realize that they can do some magical stuff with film, making something look big and spectacular when the real thing is a little piece of shit. The coolest thing was the boat that they used in the newest version of King Kong. The whole thing was about three feet tall, and they made it look life-sized in the movie.
That took about an hour, and then we explored the rest of the park. They had a new Simpsons ride, so we waited for 45 minutes to go on that. Right when we got to the front, guess what? The bastard broke down. Un-freakin'-believable. Story of our week.
So we waited another 15 minutes for them to fix it, and finally got on. The Simpsons ride is another innovation that we saw a lot at Disneyland. You get in a roller coaster seat, they put you in front of a big screen, and they move you around, blowing wind in your face, while the images on the screen give you the feeling that you're actually on a coaster.
Call me old fashioned, but if I'm on a roller coaster, I'd rather move, and have the stuff around me stay still, instead of the other way around. I'm sure they save a lot of money and space designing it the new way, but it's not the same.
The only other thing there really worth mentioning is the Jurassic Park ride, which was the best thing that happened all day. It's a water ride, where you get on a boat that takes you around, and big dinosaurs come out of nowhere and scare you. Then at the end, you go down a steep 80 foot ramp, and get soaked by the splash. Great ride.
Now, if you think there was any way we were going to get our four year old daughter on that sonofabitch, you apparently haven't read part II of my saga. So the boys and Annie went first, and The Girl and I waited at the end for them to finish. We had a great time waiting, because you could stand near the bottom of the big ramp in an area where the boat splash would come over the rails. The Girl loves water, so I stood there with her and we were both drenched by the time the others came out. I had a case of the Swamp Ass for the rest of the day, but it was worth it.
Other than that, there was nothing much memorable about Universal, except maybe the half hour we watched a live version of Fear Factor. That was okay, except when the contestants would have to eat goat scrotum, or drink beetle puree, or some other nasty shit. I never understood why that was necessary in the original show- it always made me turn the channel. Well, that and Joe Rogan. What a boner that guy was.
Anyway, we left Universal at 7:00, and by some miracle made it back 30 miles to the hotel in an hour. After taking the kids swimming in the frigid pool, and then relocating a certain organ that had gone elsewhere because the water was so goddamn cold, we went to bed and got ready to check out of Anaheim and head on down the coast to San Diego, where we had a date with Shamu the Whale.
Thursday, July 24th- Somewhere north of San Diego, California
We packed up and left Anaheim at around 9:00, and started on the 100 mile trip to San Diego. We planned to spend from around 11 until 7 at Sea World, and then make it to the hotel in time for dinner at the beach and the inevitable swimming pool visit.
We thought this was a great plan.
Well, it just wouldn't have been right if that part of our trip didn't somehow get fucked up. About halfway there, we saw a sign on the highway that there had been an accident, and to expect some delays. We didn't know at the time what kind of delay we were looking at.
We got near San Clemente, and traffic came to a dead halt. I'm talking about sitting there for 20 minutes, and not moving an inch. We turned on the radio to see if we could find out what was going on.
It turned out that just to screw up our day, some selfish bastard in a tanker truck had rolled his vehicle, and splattered his sorry ass all over the highway. I guess there were body parts everywhere, because they had all five lanes shut down. And there's only one way to get to San Diego- U.S. Highway 15.
So we started to do damage control in our van, and tried to figure out what we were going to do. The most urgent thing was to find a way off the highway, so we could whiz and then evaluate our situation. It took another half hour to move a half mile, but we finally exited in San Clemente and found a gas station.
After filling up our tank (at $4.69 per gallon, by the way-I threw up a little in the back of my mouth) we spotted a brown sign that said, "San Clemente Beach". So after some discussion, we decided that we would spend a couple of hours at the beach. Certainly they would have scraped the Rubber Duck off the road by then (if you get that reference, you're old), traffic would be flowing again, and we could still get in a good six hours at Sea World.
We pulled into the parking lot at the beach feeling very proud of our improvisational skills. California was not going to kick our ass. Not any more.
We had a friggin' ball at the beach, especially yours truly. The older kids had been to the ocean once, but they were really small, and didn't remember much about it. And the little ones, including The Girl, had never been at all.
The day was beautiful- not real hot, and the water was amazingly pretty warm. I had heard that swimming at the beach in California wasn't that great, because the ocean was always cold. Not in this case. Maybe things were turning around for us...
My favorite thing was waiting for a big wave to come in, and then running and jumping into it, and letting it knock me back. I'm fascinated by how powerful the ocean is. I've only been there a handful of times in my entire life, so this was still new enough for me to act like a kid.
It was maybe the best two hours of the whole vacation. We played Nerf football in the waves, the little ones dug holes in the sand- it was brilliant. There was the one incident, when I was laying on the beach, and the locals gathered around me, and tried to push me back into the sea. "Make sure his blowhole isn't clogged", they said. But other than that...
Until...
I'm not quite sure why, but The Girl only poops about once a week. But when she goes, it's massive. Adult rhinos have nothing on this little girl. She must lose half her body weight when she finally drops anchor. And when she needs to go, it's right now.
Well, she was having so much fun, she forgot to tell us she needed to do the stinky. So next thing you know, she came running up, and showed us the big ol' Fudge Dragon sticking out the back of her tiny swimsuit.
As my dad likes to say: Jesus Tap Dancin' Christ.
So bless her heart, Annie picked up The Girl and sprinted like Usain Fuckin' Bolt to the bathrooms, and dealt with what had to be the gnarliest cleanup job ever.
The boys and I did our part- we stayed behind and made poop jokes.
"Hey Dad! Lauren gave birth to a big, brown, baby boy!"
"Hey Dad! Did you see that mud monkey she made?"
"Did you see that? Lauren made ass-kabobs!" (That was mine. I feel it's important to interact with my children. Shut up.)
So after "wet cleanup on aisle three", we were ready to get back on the road. While we were changing in the restroom that wasn't completely wrecked, I happened upon a California Highway Patrol (or CHiPs) officer that had pulled into the park. Our conversation went a little like this:
Me- "Hello officer. Do you have any idea what the status of the highway is out there?"
Ponch- "Why, yes sir. It's still fucked up, big time."
Me- "I see. When do you think I'll be able to get to San Diego?"
Ponch (smiling)- "Oh, are you and the family headed to Sea World?
Me (smiling back)- "You betcha!"
Ponch (still smiling)- "No, you're not."
Me (smile fading)- "Uh, why not, sir?"
Ponch (smile also fading)- "Because when somebody croaks on the highway, they have to have a full investigation before they move the body. It can take 10 or 11 hours. The soonest you'll get to San Diego is around 9:00 tonight-right when Sea World closes."
Me- "Officer, could you please take your revolver out of the holster, and blow my goddamn head off? Pretty please?"
We paid for the Sea World tickets, and we had reservations at a fairly expensive hotel in San Diego. And we couldn't get to either one. It was 1:00 PM. Now what?
Your hero had a suggestion for the rest of the family. "What if we head back to Nevada? It's Thursday- we can probably get a room at the Buffalo Bill's Hotel, and I'm sure the roller coaster there is fixed by now. They have a nice pool. Then Friday morning, we can get an early start back to Vegas, and spend the whole day there. What do you think?"
Nobody could think of a better idea, so back to Nevada we went. We got our reservation cancelled without charge at the San Diego hotel, so that was something, I guess.
From where we were, it should have taken about four hours.
It took six.
Why, you ask? Because there was a wreck on the highway just north of Anaheim.
Of course there was.
We decided to get off of the gridlocked mess, and take some side roads around the jam. Annie did a hell of a job navigating with her road atlas. At that point, I didn't give a fat rat's ass anymore where we went. I just wanted to keep moving, and get the Sam Hell out of the state.
I officially had had enough of California. I would have rather eaten crushed glass, while talking politics with Barbra Streisand, than spend another minute in that shit-hole of a state.
Get...me...the... fuck...outta...here...
So we finally found our way back to the highway, got past all the traffic, and made our way back across the desert and into Nevada. This time we weren't as lucky with the weather as we were the previous week. It was hot. Like 113 degrees hot.
When we stopped for gas in Barstow (quick note: If the U.S. ever needs an enema, it will be given in Barstow, California), we could barely walk on the pavement at the station with our shoes on. We're talkin' about hot.
And you know what didn't help? Your pasty white little buddy forgot to apply sunscreen before frolicking at the beach. The last time my upper torso was exposed to two hours of sun was around 1994. I was starting to feel significant pain under my "F the French" t-shirt. More on this later. It's not good.
So we finally made it over the state line, I cried just a few tears of joy, and we pulled into Buffalo Bill's at around seven.
The roller coaster was closed for repairs.
Fuck me.
Next time in the fourth and final chapter: Wildlife at Buffalo Bill's, an interesting Friday in Vegas, and our final night on vacation in Green River,Utah.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse (Part 2)
Sunday, July 21st- Disneyland, Anaheim California
So when we left off last time, it was Sunday night, and we were about to go to Disneyland for a few hours. We thought we might get the "lay of the land", and know right where to go when we started again early Monday morning. I was pretty wiped out after driving along the Highway to Hell from Vegas to Anaheim, but I thought I could make it through a couple of hours.
In one of the few wise moves we made all week, we bought a pass for the whole family that would let us ride a shuttle from the hotel to Disneyland for the whole time that we were there. That would allow me to park the van for a few days, and not have to worry about traffic or parking spaces. More about the shuttle and one of it's drivers later on.
You know what? Disneyland has undergone some changes since I was there last. That may be because they're constantly making repairs and improvements to the park. Or it just might be because my last visit was in 1963.
That's right, 1963. I was five years old, John Kennedy was president, and my parents were still married. Within the next few months, by sheer coincidence, both my folks' marriage and Kennedy's brain would explode (other than that, Mrs. Kennedy, how did you like the parade?).
It is a small world, after all, isn’t it? Let's move on...
Now, for you people that have never been to the Magic Kingdom, let your chubby little pal give you one small piece of advice: When you first get inside the park, get the goddamn map. I spent the first half hour in that place spinning around in circles like Dorothy Hamill, trying to get my bearings. Then I had to go all the way back to the gate to get a map. Not a great start.
We got there at kind of a good time, because the people were all lining up on Main Street to see the big parade that they have every night. We thought it would give us a good chance to get away from the huge crowds, and explore the rest of the park.
At first, we decided to split up, with Annie taking The Girl to Toon Town, where they had small rides, and I would take the three boys to the Matterhorn ride, because I knew we could at least find that sonofabitch. I think it was in Adventureland.
The boys and I waited in line there for around 35 minutes, and right when we got to the front, the ride shut down because of mechanical problems. Now if you remember from the last article, we had just gotten turned away from a roller coaster earlier that day at the Buffalo Bill’s Casino, and the pirate show at the Treasure Island in Vegas the night before, because of mechanical problems.
Once again, not that great of a start to our Disney experience.
We were beginning to feel like the Griswolds from the movie “Vacation”. Everything we touched was turning to shit. We hoped that this wouldn’t last forever. If I could have found a live chicken, I would have sacrificed the bastard right there to change our luck.
So we found Annie, and made our way to Frontierland, or Spend-All-Your-Cashland, or some friggin' place. (Quick note: Never, ever go to Disneyland without a cell phone to track down people. You'll come home with half a family. Swear to God.)
Now, it was that first night when Annie and I discovered something that would affect the rest of our trip: we were going to have major problems with The Girl. No matter what the ride was, from the most innocent kiddie thing, like Dumbo, or something a little more grown up, her first response was, “I don’t want to ride that”. Then we’d make her, she’d cry the entire time in line, and then most often she’d have a great time.
This would be the pattern for three…fucking…days.
That happened with Splash Mountain, which was pretty cool, then Butt Pirates of the Caribbean, and some kind of big train ride. There were some others, but it’s all kind of a giant blur now. But it was always the same. She didn’t want to ride it, she’d cry, then she’d enjoy herself. It was day one, so I wasn’t in “find the shuttle bus, and then suck on the tailpipe until I die” mode yet. I was still pretty patient.
We actually had a pretty decent night overall. The lines weren’t that long, and we were getting on most of the good rides. But it was starting to get late, and everybody was pretty tired, considering we had driven in from Vegas earlier that day, and almost perished on the way several times because of the California drivers.
Around 9:00, they had their nightly fireworks display, and it got crowded again in the middle of the park. We happened to be in Tomorrowland, and discovered that there wasn’t much of a line at Space Mountain, which was supposed to be the best ride in the place. So we decided to hit that as our last ride before we called it a night, and went back to the hotel.
Now, you have to be 40” tall to ride Space Mountain, and The Girl comes in at around 42”. So we thought, “How bad can this be? They let little kids ride it.” So we got in line, she cried, and we ignored her. Same pattern as the rest of the night.
My friends, let me start by saying that Space Mountain is the most kick-ass ride I’ve ever been on. It’s a roller coaster that’s completely in the dark, and you’re supposed to be on a journey through space. The music’s fantastic, and you have no idea which way the coaster turns, so you’re bounced around all over the place. Just a superior experience.
Unless, of course, you’re a four year old girl that’s afraid of the dark.
She freaked. And, honestly, I can’t say I blame her. 40” or not, that is no ride for a real little kid. We bought 47 goddamn Disney guides before vacation, and not one of them said that. So I held onto her the whole time, she closed her eyes, and we got through it. The coaster came to a stop, the bars came up, and I was feeling pretty shitty for putting her in that situation.
When you get off the ride, you go out on the opposite side of the car that you got on. The Girl, believe it or not, was a little disoriented and started to exit the wrong way. It was then that this 18 year old female ride attendant yelled in a real snotty voice, “Come on! Get off the ride!”, at my four year old girl who had just been scared out of her wits.
Well, your hero didn’t take that particularly well. As I carried her off, I walked by the bitch and said, “Thanks for being so nice about it”. Pretty tame response under the circumstances, I thought. Then she turned around and shot me one of those dismissive, shitty little 18 year old looks. Goddamn, I hate that look. So I called her a “skagg”. It was the fourth option of what I really wanted to call her.
I don’t know what she thought I said, but Skagg went bat-shit. She followed me all the way down the ramp, screaming at me about using bad language in front of my kids in a family park. I mean, she was all up in my face. I have to believe that in the Disney customer service guide, that’s probably not the way they’d want an employee to handle a dispute with a customer. But there she was, almost nose to nose with me, screaming at me about language.
What the hell would she have done if I had called her a bitch, or the dreaded “C” word”, (which, as it turns out, would have been accurate)? I swear I just called her a skagg. Shit, maybe she read my mind. Because I was certainly thinking the C word.
This turned out to be a pretty big scene. Now I was really pissed. There were only two things that kept me from unleashing my entire arsenal of obscenity (and trust me, it’s extensive). One, I wouldn’t ever do that in front of my kids. And two, I got a mental picture of her calling security, me getting tasered by Mickey Fuckin’ Mouse, and then getting led out of the park in handcuffs, having shit my pants in front of my children.
So I looked at her, shook my head, and said, “Just get away from me”, then turned around, and walked away. I was actually pretty proud of myself for stepping back. Twenty years ago, I would have showed her my ass. Okay, probably ten years ago.
Oh, but Skagg wasn’t done yet.
As we were walking out of Tomorrowland, and heading for GetTheFuckOuttaHereLand, another Disney clone came running after me. Now this was obviously a supervisor. She had to be at least 23.
“Sir, I want to talk to you about the language you used to my worker back there on the ride. You know this is a family park, and we don’t appreciate your use of those words.”
I think mainly because I was so tired, I actually had calmed down a bit. I carefully explained to her what had really happened, why I had said what I said, and that where I come from, the word “skagg” isn’t very nice, but it’s also not obscene. I’ll bet Skagg thought I called her something else.
Supervisor Girl seemed satisfied with that, because she turned around and went back to Space Mountain. I mean, what sense does it make for a 50 year old chunky dude with four kids to get off the best ride ever, look at the attendant, and say, “Oh, by the way, you’re a skagg”, without being provoked? I think she realized that. Plus she didn't want to have to explain to her boss why one of her people got in my face.
I found myself wishing that it wasn’t 10:30, and my kids weren’t exhausted. Because I would have gone back in there and gone up the chain of command, including digging up Walt Disney’s worm eaten, heroine taking, Jew hating carcass, until I got an apology from that little snatch.
Then she could apologize to my little girl.
Monday and Tuesday, July 22nd and 23rd
I won't bore you too much about the next two days at Disneyland and California Adventure, because this story is already turning into War and Peace. Let's just say there were lots of crowds, lots of lines, lots of sun, and we spent lots of money.
Okay, I can't help it. I'll just hit a few of the high points.
1) Our shuttle driver- I told you I'd get back to the shuttle and one of its drivers. Our last two nights at Disney, we had the same guy, and there's a very good chance that the dude was insane. He had a raspy voice that was a dead ringer for Gary Busey, and he would constantly get on the bus PA, and ramble on about all sorts of random shit. Nothing about the park- just whatever happened to be on his warped mind. He'd always start with, "Sorry to interrupt...". We called him Gary.
Some of my favorite moments we had on vacation were the times when my older boys and I would sit in the back of that bus during the trips back and forth to the hotel, and take turns doing impressions of Gary, and making up the weirdest announcements we could think of.
Here are just a few that I can remember (it's better if you imagine Gary Busey's voice):
"Sorry to interrupt, but am I the only one in here that names his socks? I'm wearing Steve and Tony tonight."
"Sorry to interrupt. When I was in Vietnam, I made it with a water buffalo. We have a son together named Dougie."
"Sorry to interrupt. Tonight my macaroni and cheese talked to me, and told me to steer the bus into oncoming traffic. So I'm gonna do that. It never lied to me before."
"Sorry to interrupt. Sometimes I like to hang out in public restrooms, and smell other men's crap."
So we'd spend 20 minutes trying to top each other. By the time we'd get back to the hotel, we'd all be crying, and the other people on the bus would be staring at us. This could only happen with my family. But that's a part of the trip we'll all be talking about 20 years from now. They'll all come to the senior home, and we'll reminisce while I fill up my Depends. It'll be fun.
2) The Foreigners- I know this is an international place, but we spent three days in the park, and there were only two other people the whole time that spoke English. I know the exchange rate is good right now for them, but holy crap. I was left wondering if there was anybody still left in Asia, or were they all with us at Disneyland?
What's really fun to watch is when they pose for pictures. They don't just stand there and try to smile like we do. They act like it's some kind of big spread in Vogue. They'll turn and look back over their shoulder, then put their hand on their hip and pout, that type of shit. Very entertaining.
Now I'm sure it's because they're used to dealing with crowds, but they have no problem pushing and shoving to get to where they want to go. About the fiftieth time that happened, I almost backhanded one of those five foot nothing, 110 pound, skinny sons-of-bitches. But there was that mental picture again- Mickey Mouse, taser, handcuffs, shit my pants. You know the rest.
3) The Little Friggin' Mermaid- Our second night, after seeing all of Disneyland that we could stand for awhile, we went next door to Disney's California Adventure. As the name indicates, the theme there is all about California, complete with movie studios, ocean fronts, etc. This park is a little more suited to older kids, but there is still plenty there for the little ones.
They also had a 3-D Muppet show inside one of the theaters, and that was fantastic. We went to that twice- partly because it was funny, and the images were so amazing. And partly because it was one of the few places where The Girl didn't scream like a mashed cat. She never really got over that Space Mountain experience.
But there aren't enough "kick-ass" rides there to make it worth coming back. The California Screamin' roller coaster is good, the Tower of Terror is spectacular because they drop you about 10 stories, and of course, Space Mountain is the best ride I've ever been on. Well, it's even better if you don't get into a shouting match with a teenager.
But that was really about it. So I've decided that I'm going to wait another 45 years before I go back to Disneyland. I'll be 95, I'll have a cyborg body, and I'll just beam myself there instead of driving through the desert. And I'll bet Skagg will still be letting people off Space Mountain and yelling at little kids.
This time, I'm going to use the "C" word. It won't matter if I get tasered- I'll be shitting my pants by then anyway.
Next time in part three: L.A. traffic sucks ass, the San Diego trip sucks ass, and just to be different, the trip home sucks ass.
So when we left off last time, it was Sunday night, and we were about to go to Disneyland for a few hours. We thought we might get the "lay of the land", and know right where to go when we started again early Monday morning. I was pretty wiped out after driving along the Highway to Hell from Vegas to Anaheim, but I thought I could make it through a couple of hours.
In one of the few wise moves we made all week, we bought a pass for the whole family that would let us ride a shuttle from the hotel to Disneyland for the whole time that we were there. That would allow me to park the van for a few days, and not have to worry about traffic or parking spaces. More about the shuttle and one of it's drivers later on.
You know what? Disneyland has undergone some changes since I was there last. That may be because they're constantly making repairs and improvements to the park. Or it just might be because my last visit was in 1963.
That's right, 1963. I was five years old, John Kennedy was president, and my parents were still married. Within the next few months, by sheer coincidence, both my folks' marriage and Kennedy's brain would explode (other than that, Mrs. Kennedy, how did you like the parade?).
It is a small world, after all, isn’t it? Let's move on...
Now, for you people that have never been to the Magic Kingdom, let your chubby little pal give you one small piece of advice: When you first get inside the park, get the goddamn map. I spent the first half hour in that place spinning around in circles like Dorothy Hamill, trying to get my bearings. Then I had to go all the way back to the gate to get a map. Not a great start.
We got there at kind of a good time, because the people were all lining up on Main Street to see the big parade that they have every night. We thought it would give us a good chance to get away from the huge crowds, and explore the rest of the park.
At first, we decided to split up, with Annie taking The Girl to Toon Town, where they had small rides, and I would take the three boys to the Matterhorn ride, because I knew we could at least find that sonofabitch. I think it was in Adventureland.
The boys and I waited in line there for around 35 minutes, and right when we got to the front, the ride shut down because of mechanical problems. Now if you remember from the last article, we had just gotten turned away from a roller coaster earlier that day at the Buffalo Bill’s Casino, and the pirate show at the Treasure Island in Vegas the night before, because of mechanical problems.
Once again, not that great of a start to our Disney experience.
We were beginning to feel like the Griswolds from the movie “Vacation”. Everything we touched was turning to shit. We hoped that this wouldn’t last forever. If I could have found a live chicken, I would have sacrificed the bastard right there to change our luck.
So we found Annie, and made our way to Frontierland, or Spend-All-Your-Cashland, or some friggin' place. (Quick note: Never, ever go to Disneyland without a cell phone to track down people. You'll come home with half a family. Swear to God.)
Now, it was that first night when Annie and I discovered something that would affect the rest of our trip: we were going to have major problems with The Girl. No matter what the ride was, from the most innocent kiddie thing, like Dumbo, or something a little more grown up, her first response was, “I don’t want to ride that”. Then we’d make her, she’d cry the entire time in line, and then most often she’d have a great time.
This would be the pattern for three…fucking…days.
That happened with Splash Mountain, which was pretty cool, then Butt Pirates of the Caribbean, and some kind of big train ride. There were some others, but it’s all kind of a giant blur now. But it was always the same. She didn’t want to ride it, she’d cry, then she’d enjoy herself. It was day one, so I wasn’t in “find the shuttle bus, and then suck on the tailpipe until I die” mode yet. I was still pretty patient.
We actually had a pretty decent night overall. The lines weren’t that long, and we were getting on most of the good rides. But it was starting to get late, and everybody was pretty tired, considering we had driven in from Vegas earlier that day, and almost perished on the way several times because of the California drivers.
Around 9:00, they had their nightly fireworks display, and it got crowded again in the middle of the park. We happened to be in Tomorrowland, and discovered that there wasn’t much of a line at Space Mountain, which was supposed to be the best ride in the place. So we decided to hit that as our last ride before we called it a night, and went back to the hotel.
Now, you have to be 40” tall to ride Space Mountain, and The Girl comes in at around 42”. So we thought, “How bad can this be? They let little kids ride it.” So we got in line, she cried, and we ignored her. Same pattern as the rest of the night.
My friends, let me start by saying that Space Mountain is the most kick-ass ride I’ve ever been on. It’s a roller coaster that’s completely in the dark, and you’re supposed to be on a journey through space. The music’s fantastic, and you have no idea which way the coaster turns, so you’re bounced around all over the place. Just a superior experience.
Unless, of course, you’re a four year old girl that’s afraid of the dark.
She freaked. And, honestly, I can’t say I blame her. 40” or not, that is no ride for a real little kid. We bought 47 goddamn Disney guides before vacation, and not one of them said that. So I held onto her the whole time, she closed her eyes, and we got through it. The coaster came to a stop, the bars came up, and I was feeling pretty shitty for putting her in that situation.
When you get off the ride, you go out on the opposite side of the car that you got on. The Girl, believe it or not, was a little disoriented and started to exit the wrong way. It was then that this 18 year old female ride attendant yelled in a real snotty voice, “Come on! Get off the ride!”, at my four year old girl who had just been scared out of her wits.
Well, your hero didn’t take that particularly well. As I carried her off, I walked by the bitch and said, “Thanks for being so nice about it”. Pretty tame response under the circumstances, I thought. Then she turned around and shot me one of those dismissive, shitty little 18 year old looks. Goddamn, I hate that look. So I called her a “skagg”. It was the fourth option of what I really wanted to call her.
I don’t know what she thought I said, but Skagg went bat-shit. She followed me all the way down the ramp, screaming at me about using bad language in front of my kids in a family park. I mean, she was all up in my face. I have to believe that in the Disney customer service guide, that’s probably not the way they’d want an employee to handle a dispute with a customer. But there she was, almost nose to nose with me, screaming at me about language.
What the hell would she have done if I had called her a bitch, or the dreaded “C” word”, (which, as it turns out, would have been accurate)? I swear I just called her a skagg. Shit, maybe she read my mind. Because I was certainly thinking the C word.
This turned out to be a pretty big scene. Now I was really pissed. There were only two things that kept me from unleashing my entire arsenal of obscenity (and trust me, it’s extensive). One, I wouldn’t ever do that in front of my kids. And two, I got a mental picture of her calling security, me getting tasered by Mickey Fuckin’ Mouse, and then getting led out of the park in handcuffs, having shit my pants in front of my children.
So I looked at her, shook my head, and said, “Just get away from me”, then turned around, and walked away. I was actually pretty proud of myself for stepping back. Twenty years ago, I would have showed her my ass. Okay, probably ten years ago.
Oh, but Skagg wasn’t done yet.
As we were walking out of Tomorrowland, and heading for GetTheFuckOuttaHereLand, another Disney clone came running after me. Now this was obviously a supervisor. She had to be at least 23.
“Sir, I want to talk to you about the language you used to my worker back there on the ride. You know this is a family park, and we don’t appreciate your use of those words.”
I think mainly because I was so tired, I actually had calmed down a bit. I carefully explained to her what had really happened, why I had said what I said, and that where I come from, the word “skagg” isn’t very nice, but it’s also not obscene. I’ll bet Skagg thought I called her something else.
Supervisor Girl seemed satisfied with that, because she turned around and went back to Space Mountain. I mean, what sense does it make for a 50 year old chunky dude with four kids to get off the best ride ever, look at the attendant, and say, “Oh, by the way, you’re a skagg”, without being provoked? I think she realized that. Plus she didn't want to have to explain to her boss why one of her people got in my face.
I found myself wishing that it wasn’t 10:30, and my kids weren’t exhausted. Because I would have gone back in there and gone up the chain of command, including digging up Walt Disney’s worm eaten, heroine taking, Jew hating carcass, until I got an apology from that little snatch.
Then she could apologize to my little girl.
Monday and Tuesday, July 22nd and 23rd
I won't bore you too much about the next two days at Disneyland and California Adventure, because this story is already turning into War and Peace. Let's just say there were lots of crowds, lots of lines, lots of sun, and we spent lots of money.
Okay, I can't help it. I'll just hit a few of the high points.
1) Our shuttle driver- I told you I'd get back to the shuttle and one of its drivers. Our last two nights at Disney, we had the same guy, and there's a very good chance that the dude was insane. He had a raspy voice that was a dead ringer for Gary Busey, and he would constantly get on the bus PA, and ramble on about all sorts of random shit. Nothing about the park- just whatever happened to be on his warped mind. He'd always start with, "Sorry to interrupt...". We called him Gary.
Some of my favorite moments we had on vacation were the times when my older boys and I would sit in the back of that bus during the trips back and forth to the hotel, and take turns doing impressions of Gary, and making up the weirdest announcements we could think of.
Here are just a few that I can remember (it's better if you imagine Gary Busey's voice):
"Sorry to interrupt, but am I the only one in here that names his socks? I'm wearing Steve and Tony tonight."
"Sorry to interrupt. When I was in Vietnam, I made it with a water buffalo. We have a son together named Dougie."
"Sorry to interrupt. Tonight my macaroni and cheese talked to me, and told me to steer the bus into oncoming traffic. So I'm gonna do that. It never lied to me before."
"Sorry to interrupt. Sometimes I like to hang out in public restrooms, and smell other men's crap."
So we'd spend 20 minutes trying to top each other. By the time we'd get back to the hotel, we'd all be crying, and the other people on the bus would be staring at us. This could only happen with my family. But that's a part of the trip we'll all be talking about 20 years from now. They'll all come to the senior home, and we'll reminisce while I fill up my Depends. It'll be fun.
2) The Foreigners- I know this is an international place, but we spent three days in the park, and there were only two other people the whole time that spoke English. I know the exchange rate is good right now for them, but holy crap. I was left wondering if there was anybody still left in Asia, or were they all with us at Disneyland?
What's really fun to watch is when they pose for pictures. They don't just stand there and try to smile like we do. They act like it's some kind of big spread in Vogue. They'll turn and look back over their shoulder, then put their hand on their hip and pout, that type of shit. Very entertaining.
Now I'm sure it's because they're used to dealing with crowds, but they have no problem pushing and shoving to get to where they want to go. About the fiftieth time that happened, I almost backhanded one of those five foot nothing, 110 pound, skinny sons-of-bitches. But there was that mental picture again- Mickey Mouse, taser, handcuffs, shit my pants. You know the rest.
3) The Little Friggin' Mermaid- Our second night, after seeing all of Disneyland that we could stand for awhile, we went next door to Disney's California Adventure. As the name indicates, the theme there is all about California, complete with movie studios, ocean fronts, etc. This park is a little more suited to older kids, but there is still plenty there for the little ones.
So we were strolling down a boardwalk by a "pier", and happened upon a restaurant called Ariel's Grotto. Now for those of you that don't have a daughter or a gay son, Ariel is the princess in the Little Mermaid movie.
I haven't mentioned this yet, but Ariel is the reason that The Girl wanted to go to Disneyland. She is all Ariel, all the time. Ariel toothbrush, Ariel sheets and pillow cases, Ariel nightlight, and so on. So imagine when she looked inside the restaurant, and there was Ariel, in person, posing for pictures with the guests. She freaked yet again, but this time sort of in a good way.
So we naively walked up to the restaurant hostess, and the conversation went a little something like this:
Me- "When will Ariel be coming out of the restaurant, so that we can get a picture of her with our daughter?"
Hostess (chuckling to herself)- "She stays inside and just takes pictures with the dining guests, you poor, stupid, little man. "
Me- "But you wouldn't mind if we go inside for a minute and take a quick one and we'll be on our way, would you?"
Hostess- "Not at all. Just go ahead and pay for two dinners now, and you can go right on in. In the meantime, do you think you could get your daughter to stop pressing her face against the window so hard? She's going to break through the glass."
I looked down, and The Girl looked like one of those Garfield dolls that is plastered against a car window. She wanted to give Ariel a hug, and right now. The ironic part was that in order to save a hundred bucks, the whole family had gone back to the hotel, and just eaten dinner in the room. We had a suite with a kitchen, and had made chicken burritos. Isn't that smart? Yeah, I thought so, too.
I looked back up at the hostess, and she gave me her extra special, "I've got you by the balls, and you know it, bitch" smile. And of course, she was right. So Annie and The Girl went inside and ate their second dinner in an hour.
That's dinner at the Disney park. We had been warned about the cost of eating a meal there in almost all of our 47 guides. Uh, oh...
To their credit, the restaurant does it up real well. She got to hug and visit with not only Ariel, but a bunch of the other princesses (Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Brian Boitano, etc) came by the table, spent five minutes with her, signed her special Disney autograph and photo book, and took pictures with her. It was very sweet, and was absolutely the highlight of the trip for The Girl.
That's the good news.
The bad news, you ask? Well, that would be the tab for this hour of magic. Annie had a sandwich and salad, and The Girl had a chicken finger platter, or some such nonsense. Oh, she didn't eat it, by the way. Wasn't hungry. Not exactly the Surf and Turf, right? Plus there was the autograph book, and all the photos we bought with her and the princesses.
So when they came back out of the restaurant, I asked Annie what the final damage was. She didn't answer. She just looked at me, dollar signs flashed in her eyes, and I heard the sound of a cash register bell (cha-ching!).
How much? The low, low Disney discount price of $108.
Okay, maybe this is just me talking, but for $108 I think I should have gotten some kind of Little Mermaid "happy ending". Or she could have at least slapped me around for a few minutes with her tail and called me Suzie.
I think the worst part was when the boys and I came back to pick the girls up, the hostess had gathered a bunch of other employees, and they all pointed at me and laughed. I felt so...used.
So those were some of the bullet points. Overall, Disney and California Adventure were pretty cool to see- once. The detail was amazing inside the rides- it really is a visual spectacle. And it was exceptionally clean inside the whole complex- they do a great job with that.
They also had a 3-D Muppet show inside one of the theaters, and that was fantastic. We went to that twice- partly because it was funny, and the images were so amazing. And partly because it was one of the few places where The Girl didn't scream like a mashed cat. She never really got over that Space Mountain experience.
But there aren't enough "kick-ass" rides there to make it worth coming back. The California Screamin' roller coaster is good, the Tower of Terror is spectacular because they drop you about 10 stories, and of course, Space Mountain is the best ride I've ever been on. Well, it's even better if you don't get into a shouting match with a teenager.
But that was really about it. So I've decided that I'm going to wait another 45 years before I go back to Disneyland. I'll be 95, I'll have a cyborg body, and I'll just beam myself there instead of driving through the desert. And I'll bet Skagg will still be letting people off Space Mountain and yelling at little kids.
This time, I'm going to use the "C" word. It won't matter if I get tasered- I'll be shitting my pants by then anyway.
Next time in part three: L.A. traffic sucks ass, the San Diego trip sucks ass, and just to be different, the trip home sucks ass.
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