Maybe they didn’t exactly deserve that treatment, and I should probably think about apologizing at some point, but I’m going to give myself a few months to pout about it first. However, I will not let my spirit be broken. Like that song from “Frozen” says, “Let It Go.” Actually, that’s going to be my motto for the remainder of 2014. As a matter of fact, when my next electric bill arrives, I’m going to just “Let It Go”… right in the trash. A lack of electricity never bothered me anyway.
Though I didn’t win an Oscar this year—AGAIN—all is not lost. At the end of the night, I
was escorted away with walked away with a “World’s Greatest Superstar” trophy that I won (purchased) because I’m so awesome—kind of. I can almost certainly guarantee you that neither Jennifer Lawrence nor Sandra Bullock has one of these. Also, as awesome as “Gravity” and “American Hustle” were, neither of them can say that they write for this blog. That honor, my friends, is all mine, and I’m glad to be back in the driver’s seat. That noted, without further ado, let’s begin.
So, you’re probably wondering where I’ve been and why there have been no new blog posts in months. Well, contrary to what was recently printed in the tabloids, I did not fall off the face of the earth. No, I didn’t run away to France with my fish and an iPod. And, no, I didn’t win the current season of “Naked and Afraid” on the Discovery channel. In fact, on the first day of taping, after taking off just one sock, I was voted off the island for fear that viewers would boycott and file lawsuits for having to endure being exposed to my right foot in high definition every week. Unfortunately, due to the lawsuit I’ve filed against the network, I can’t go into greater detail about this incident, but just know that my foot and I are highly offended.
Though I can’t say that I have a great reason for being away so long, I can say that I used the time to knock a few things off my bucket list. First of all, during my hiatus I finally watched the first three episodes of “Scandal,” which leaves me only forty-five episodes behind when the show comes up in conversation. The only problem I have with watching Scandal is that you then start looking at everyone like they have an ulterior motive: the mailman, the paperboy, the cashier at Target, your dad. I’ve really got to stop telling people, “It’s handled.” Especially when they’re just asking me what time it is.
The most significant thing I’ve done over the past few months was attend my brother’s wedding in Phoenix, AZ. Before you ask, no, I wasn’t in the wedding. Although he vehemently denies it, it is my belief that my brother didn’t want the competition of having someone so handsome in the ceremony taking all the attention off him. Honestly, I understood where he was coming from because that was the same reason that I wasn’t invited to Brad Pitt’s and Channing Tatum’s weddings, but it’s their loss.
Anyway, because I’d already flown halfway across the country, I used the opportunity to go to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Jose—all in the course of one week. First of all, I didn’t even know that regular people like me were allowed to travel and go to places like Vegas and LA. I thought excursions like that were saved for important people like Alec Baldwin or Will Smith. However, after applying for a passport and receiving a security clearance to cross state lines, I was on my way. Who knew?
Although we were in the midst of a snow storm on the East Coast, in Phoenix it was very warm. And dry. And dusty. The kind of place where you’d expect your mother to stumble drunkenly out of a saloon with a pistol and tell you to “Stick ‘em up, partner!” Despite the fact that I thought I would have to fight my brother for his refusal to turn on the AC because “It was ONLY 80 degrees,” I had a great time—especially when I saw that they had a Starbucks. And a mall. And a grocery store.
After the wedding, we headed to Vegas. Since I was a little boy, I’ve always dreamt of going to Vegas. While other kids pretended they were on Sesame Street with Bert and Ernie, I had dreams of hitting it big on the slot machines. I pictured myself winning some type of game where I’d receive so many chips that I’d just throw them up in the air and let them rain down on all the other players. Now that’s what I call a great time! Let’s not forget that Vegas is known as Sin City and when you arrive they make you sign an affidavit stating that you agree that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I knew that rule well. Even at age three.
Well, what I can say is that, if there was any sinning going on, I must have slept right through it. I was in bed by 10 PM every single night. From what I hear, that’s the time that the fun is just starting. I believe this was proven the morning after the first night there when I ran into a group of grandmas stumbling back to their rooms at 8:30 AM. One was missing her skirt and the other had a fresh tattoo of tiger prints going up her thigh—then again, those could have been age spots. I’m not exactly sure.
I think what really did me in each night were all the buffets. If you happen to see any footage of me on YouTube stripping off my clothes and crawling back to my room, it wasn’t because I was drunk and sinning; it was because I had one too many crab legs and needed to loosen my clothing to make room for all that I had ingested. And although I thought that I would spend tons of money on slot machines, I actually only spent a dollar gambling. There was just so much to do and see. Instead of losing my house and my mother on a game of craps–AGAIN, I enjoyed all the lights and attractions, such as The Big Apple Coaster at New York-New York Hotel & Casino and the indoor amusement park at Circus Circus.
Because my brother, his new wife and I are big nerds, we soon left the bright lights of Vegas to go see the Hoover Damn. About an hour into the visit, my sister-in-law’s eyes widened as she pointed to something on my shirt. Before I could register what was happening, she and my brother were running in the opposite direction. It was clear that I was going to die. Insects, spiders, and all those sort of things love me. Even though there were thousands of people present, I would be the one person to somehow end up with a scorpion on his shoulder. It was later revealed that what I thought was a scorpion was really just a stink bug. Both are equally dangerous in my opinion.
When I ended up not dying, we went to Los Angeles. If you know anything about me, then you know where my first stop was: Starbucks! After getting my caffeine fix and threatening to sue the manager because the Starbucks on the West Coast had different pastries than we had in the DC area, I convinced my brother and his wife to go to the Madame Tussauds celebrity wax museum so that I could rub elbows and hobnob with the likes of Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Madonna—you know, all people who have used my blog as inspiration for their own careers.
Well, blog readers, I have to say that what you’ve heard about celebrities is true. They are kind of snobby. No matter how many questions I asked, none of them bothered to respond. Although I expected that sort of treatment from Michael Jackson, I expected more from Jennifer Lopez. After all, she’s just “Jenny from the Block.” Brad and Angelina were no better, but I didn’t really expect them to be. After all, I’m too old for them to adopt, so what interest would they have in engaging in conversation with me?
Honestly, the highlight of my Madame Tussauds experience was having the opportunity to take a picture with President Obama. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, we are both equally powerful men, but even I have to have someone to look up to. I mean, maybe if I didn’t aspire to be a writer I would have wanted to be president instead. Hmm. In any case, hopefully, one day I’ll meet the real president because I will have done something noteworthy like save a goldfish from a burning building, or maybe he’ll call a meeting with me after he’s read one of my posts. I guess the wax version will just have to do for now. Although he didn’t say much, he did allow me to use his phone and put my feet up on his desk, which I’m sure he doesn’t allow anybody else to do—except for Olivia Pope, maybe.
After finishing up at Madame Tussauds, we decided to hit the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Of course, like any normal person, I replaced all the celebrity names with my own. In reality I thought the Walk of Fame would be more awesome. Don’t get me wrong, seeing the stars on the strip was amazing, but it was obvious that people just walk all over them, and I’m quite sure that some of the stars have been peed on. At one point I dropped my danish on Britney Spears, but I opted not to use the five-second rule in that instance. That’s how I caught osteoporosis and high cholesterol last time.
After making a quick stop at the beach in Malibu, we drove up to San Jose where one of my former supervisors live. She and her family then took me to San Francisco for the evening. Over the course of a few hours, I went to Pier 39, saw the Golden Gate Bridge from a distance, and rode down Lombard Street, which is one of the world’s most crooked streets. After the ride down that block and several other steep streets in the area, I not only lost my desire to ride roller coasters for a while, I also lost my dinner.
Well, in closing, my friends, what I’ve learned from all the traveling is that the world is so much bigger than my living room, and there are so many other things out there to see besides what’s on Netflix. In fact, before I’d even gotten back home, I was searching the Expedia website looking at travel rates so that I could plan my next trip back to Vegas and Los Angeles. Unfortunately, if I’m going to travel more, I’m going to have to come up with some creative ways to make money. Like my brother once said, “I’m going to have to do some strange thangs for change.” That noted, if you should happen to see me under a bridge or on a street corner holding up a sign, throw me a quarter or two. I’ve got places to go and more wax celebrities to see!!!
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