What do Adam Jones of Tool, and Richard Simmons have in common? Well, you wouldn’t think much, but they are the only two celebrities I saw when I was out in La-La land and Vegas for the past week. During the week, I traveled to the land of earthquakes, mudslides, fires and overpaid movie stars and then drove through the desert to the land of silicone breasts, sports gambling, and women that can be at your hotel door in an hour, and back (don’t worry folks - no women came to my hotel room in an hour, much less the whole trip.)

On my pilgrimage to the meccas of entertainment and gambling, I jotted down drunken rants on a legal pad, and then was just amazed at some of the things I was saying when I was on vacation. So, as I am writing this, I will probably shake my head at some of the crap spewed out of my pen, which hopefully should make for one or two laughable moments.

So, anyways, here is the bile that made it out onto a pad of paper either late at night, or early in the morning during my trip (some of it has been cleaned up for readable purposes):

1st Log - Thurs, May 11th; 2:15am Pacific Time: Man, so this is California? $3.40 a f---in’ gallon for gas? The weather is great, but only the damn actors and musicians can afford to live out there. It makes you want to get a g—damn Prius, as wimpy as that sounds. Anyways, Sunset is a long ass road to walk along, but it is like reliving the glory days of Motley Crue, but I wasn’t using a syringe to inject Jack Daniels into my veins. I just drank it instead.

We hit the Roxy first, and hung out there for a couple. Decent, but looks like Clutch Cargos inside.

There are 40 foot posters for Entourage everywhere out here, also signs for that Tori Spelling show all over the place as well. Man, she still looks like she’s been in the stable too long. Geez!

Went to the Rainbow tonight, to see where Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx used to pick up skanks at. This place is kinda small, but they know how to pour drinks. If you go to Sunset, go there.

Anyways, what the f--- is with Sunset closing up shop at 2am? I thought this area was supposed to be crazy all hours of the night, but NO!, I have to go home at 2, what a bunch of s---!

2nd Log - Friday, May 12th , 2:56am Pacific Time: Once again, even though they close at 2am, Sunset beats the hell out of Royal Oak any day of the week. Windsor too. I went to Hollywood earlier today. Did all the tourist crap. I have never seen so many lingerie stores and tacky two dollar shirt stores in my life. The Chinese Theatre was getting ready for the premiere of Poseidon. I will bet 20 bucks to anyone who thinks Josh Lucas is gonna be a big time star? Any takers?

What’s up with all these girls with the big black sunglasses? I don’t think it’s attractive to wear sunglasses that take up your entire face, unless you’re ugly. Then you need them. Even guys are wearing them.

Nancy Sinatra was getting her star on the Walk of Fame. Did she have to pay them to get that star up on there? Is Leif Garrett’s star not too far behind? What about Andrew McCarthy? Does he have one too?

Back to Sunset, did a lot of walking tonight, which turned into stumbling after a trip to the Rainbow. Tonight, they gave out free drink tickets with the cover. That g—damn bartender poured us some pretty strong Jack and Cokes. I swear, that place is stuck in at least 1991. White Zombie’s Thunder Kiss ‘65 was the newest song I heard in there. Motley Crue’s Shout at the Devil was playing most of the time. How fitting - Vince Neil supposedly used to have sex with groupies over by the Galaga game.

Oh God, I gotta pass out. Talk with you in Vegas.

Log 3 - Saturday, May 13th, 3:12am Pacific Time: I’m actually pretty with it tonight. I got to Vegas, after a drive through the 120 degree desert, only to find out our hotel was overbooked, and ended up being shipped to a different hotel. Great, with my luck, I will break down on the way home, and be left for the coyotes.

Being asked to stay at Bally’s instead of Paris was like being asked to stay Downriver, when you booked a hotel in Birmingham. A total insult, but the hotel made it worth my while. But they’re still a—holes for it.

Vegas was kinda quiet tonight, if you can believe it. The clubs were half full, and you could walk up to any blackjack or roulette table possible. And where are all the illegals on the streets, slapping porno ads in your hand? And the cab drivers trying to force me to go to a massage parlor? What about those ladies that can be at your hotel room in an hour - more than likely, they are sitting down at the bar at my hotel playing video poker, and having a drink until some drunk ass picks her up.

All right, gotta go, I have to be up to gamble in like 3 hours.

Final Log - Sunday, May 14th, 3:05am Pacific Time: Never, ever, ever, ever bet on those Pistons. The Mandalay Bay sports book had nothing but Pistons fans in it, and they blew it. Way to make us feel like losers! They lost to LeBron, and cost me money in the process. Thank God the Spurs covered the spread and saved my ass! The illegals with the porn flyers showed up bright and early tonight, and Las Vegas Boulevard was littered with $99 prostitution deals. I love how the people have a rhythm to giving out the ads. Most of them slap it twice, and then give it to you. And then, some either shove it down your pocket, and or in your face. It is comedic.

Hopefully, the Suns and Heat can come through for me tomorrow in order to win some real money on this trip. Right now, I’m not broke, but I am not going to be asked to stay in the penthouse suite anytime soon.

Hit a couple of clubs, plenty of girls in next to nothing, and oh crap! They’re still wearing those big black sunglasses! Don’t they realize its f---in’ night outside? Just because Lindsay Lohan wears them doesn’t mean you have to as well.

Gotta get ready to drive through the desert, and get back in time for my flight.

As you can probably tell, most of it was cleaned up a bit. To postscript the story, I ended up about dead even on betting for the weekend, and the hotel room was half off because of the snafu. I made it home, but not before seeing the previously mentioned Jones and Simmons on the plane home. There is no acting with Richard Simmons. The Richard Simmons you see sweatin’ to the oldies was the exact one I saw at the airport, shorts and tank top and all. And ironically enough, the guitarist from Tool (Jones) was talking with him. That was somewhat of a mind blower right there.

But I guess when in L.A., famous people will talk to any other famous people, no matter how ridiculous Richard Simmons look.

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