Diesel Fumes In the Face and A New Love

Sorry it's been a while since the last entry. I had quite an eventful weekend - all good, of course. I hope that you are all still breathing and functioning ok without me. Put on your bifocals, this one's gonna take a few minutes to review - I'm busting at the seams here.

Let's recap some of my adventures and changes that took place this weekend, and no, I did NOT go through menopause.

My current roommate and I got this great idea that we would drive out to one of the Indian casinos for the day on Friday. He wanted to do nothing but play unadulterated blackjack and I wanted a massage and to fry in the desert sun by a luxurious resort pool while sipping mai tais. Some much-needed R &R. I even invited Charlie to join me as entertainment by the pool (sans mai tais, of course), which he gladly accepted. So we had it. Destination: Pechanga Resort & Casino in Temecula, CA (AKA: Strip Mall/Chain Restaurant Central). The idea of a casino in Temecula should have seemed like a BAD idea to me, but, apparently, the sleeping pills had taken their toll.

After a leisurely Friday morning rush-hour drive to Temecula, we arrived in style - with the hubcap popping off my roommates car and banging into the curb leading to the parking garage. Smooth. Upon entering the "resort", Charlie and I proceeded to wander around aimlessly for 15 minutes looking for the "Spa" (during which time I asked two people who I thought worked there for directions, but, they didn't. Damn those blue tooth wireless earphone thingies - they make all people wearing suits look like security). After locating the 6-room "spa" (men/women locker rooms, and four massage rooms) we waited in our robes (buck naked underneath, mind you) for another 15 minutes in the LOBBY since there was no jacuzzi, sauna, or a friggen hairdryer in the locker rooms.

I must say, both our massages were great. And do NOT ask if there were happy endings - this is a PROFESSIONAL massage at a RESORT, pervs. So, I was pretty relaxed and ready to hit the pool and pool bar. But, oops, the main pool was closed for a private party! This to me = NOT COOL. It was 100+ degrees out and I was going to catch some rays. Luckily, a shuttle could take us to the RV RESORT POOL. WOW! Lucky us.

So off Charlie and I went - to the RV RESORT POOL. I'm pretty sure at this point red flags are beating me in the head. We arrived at the pool that appeared to be a puddle. My face dropped. Obese people everywhere and everyone had their own radio - all tuned to different channels. After conning one of the local kids to let us in (we didn't have a key and security is strict at the RV RESORT POOL), we found two empty chairs next to foot dance lady and 10-month pregnant greasy-hair man. I plugged in my iPod and began to fall asleep, washing away the scene around me.

Then it happened. I felt the ground shake beneath me and I heard a giant rumble. Seconds later, thinking I was in an earthquake, I got a giant face full of diesel fuel from the house on wheels that rolled up next to me (to register for the RV RESORT), only 3 feet from my face. Unfortunately, the fumes did not knock me unconscious and there we laid for 3 hours, sucking in the various fumes from the enormous gas-guzzlers. I'm pretty sure by the end, we could tell Mobil from Chevron and so on.

Lesson learned: RV RESORT is an oxymoron.

So here go to Saturday. I woke up bright and early to go put salve on my diesel fume-burned face and race off to the Pet Adoption Fair in Brentwood. Let's just say that what I expected to be a couple tents and some animals was way off. It's Brentwood. Therefore, there was a red carpet (not sure for whom, though), a marching band (ugh) and tent upon tent of adorable animals. I wanted to take them all home but I didn't think I could fit them into the Stang (that's my pimp Mustang for those of you who don't know - ha ha).

And there he was. Cameron. The new 1/2 Maltese, 1/2 Lhapso Apso sunshine of my life. We were instant friends. It was as if the lame-ass clepto crazy psychos that stole Bo were banished from my memory. He is my new love and he has not eaten his brother, Floyd the Goldfish, as of yet. That's always a plus. My Christmas cards will feature the three of us, so, keep your eyes open.

Yesterday was spent watching the Yankees spank the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim's asses. We had some sweet nose bleed seats but it was good stuff to know that Boston lost and we won - and I was there in person to cheer them on. I bet they heard me. I bet China heard me.

But I do have to relay some observations that I made while being a spectator at the game.

1. The banger sticks (those stupid inflatable french-fry looking things that you bang together to make obnoxious noises) should be banned from the earth. They are the stupidest invention ever and if I see another pair, I will run out immediately and buy a bb gun and shoot them (or the owner).

2. Extremely obese women should ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS wear a bra. It's great that you are comfortable with your body but those things are lethal weapons and should be kept under guard.

3. 85 degree heat does NOT give you the right, as a man, to take off your shirt. I'll leave it at that.

4. Unless the number and/or player is retired, don't wear jerseys of old players that have since been traded. It's retarded and you look stupid. Wear a regular shirt. They will still give you a ticket to the game - I promise.

5. Last but not least. And some of you men will not agree with this (shocker). Women who wear Bud Light or Coors Light triangle bikinis = white trash.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

More tomorrow on the roommate and dating saga - it's "a whole thing".