The Catalina Trip aka The Flying Fish Story

Author's short foreword: "I wrote this many, many years ago (maybe even a decade ago) and you can tell when reading that I was still developing myself as a writer. Be that as it may, it's still one of the funniest things I've ever had the priviledge of witnessing and as such gets a place here at dudebro. One other quick thing to note is that as I read this I immediately came to the conclusion that I wasn't old enough to legally drink yet, hence the reason I found it difficult to find alcohol so readily available on the island. But if you know Dom, that's not going to stop him. Either way, as with all my stories, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed living it."

I like vacations away from California whenever I can get them. These include a multitude of places I'm willing to go just to get away from the grind for a bit. One of these places decided upon one year was Catalina Island. A friend of a friend (I think he happens to be queerbait, and that will be his name for the duration of this story) was a lifeguard up there for the summer. I figured, cool, we gotta place to stay and plenty of stuff to do, so I thought. We got on the boat heading for Catalina the next day and were off. It was one of those insanely quick hydroplane boats that went Mach1 through the water. We made it there quick. The most enjoyable part of this trip was watching the fat people out on deck vomiting over the side. If you ever take a boat trip out to Catalina, you'll ALWAYS see this at some point. In some cases I've seen people actually turn a light complexion of green, now add an overweight male wearing a sweat suit and one of those 1985 belly bags to this equation and you'll see comedy on a grand scale.The DomMega on the other hand, has an incredible pair of sealegs and I was alternately unaffected.

We docked at Avalon and proceed to take a shore boat over to where Queerbait was. Now an important author's note worth mentioning here is that I thought this was like a teenage co-ed summer camp. I was sadly, sadly mistaken. It was a youth boy scout camp, and a shitty one at that. I never thought boy scouts were cool. I've mocked them when I was young for dressing like pretty boy retards and not much changed at the point we're at now in the story. The shore boat docks at the boyscout pier and we get off. Queerbait waves to us as he's playing soccer with a bunch of little shit scouts in shorts with their socks all the way up to their knees. ITS SUMMERTIME, WTF! I just walk past Queerbait and his band of lawn fairies and locate a shanty to put my bag in. (The lodging here was set up to where everyone slept in a little shack with a cot in it. Yes, I said a little shack. A makeshift shelter of wood boards and nails that you can actually see right through from all sides.) I put my stuff down and locked the door when leaving. I decided I had to go talk to Queerbait because I didn't feel like hanging out with Face AND his girlfriend. I didn't care much for his girlfriend back then, however seeing this story is about 8 or 9 years old, now she has become tolerable.

The first words out of my mouth to Queerbait was, "So where can I get some alcohol in this place."

Queerbait: "Dude, this is a boy scouts camp, there's no alcohol here."

Dom: "WTF! You drag me out here to some island and there's no fucking alcohol to drink!"

Queerbait: *whispers* "Hey bro, the Alumni eagle scouts have HALF a bottle of Captain Morgan that we're going to bring down to the campfire later after the kids go to bed."

Dom: "You're fucking kidding me. Why is that I've allowed myself to be in such a predicament as this? I've had more fun hanging out with my catatonic uncle than with you and everyone else in the immediate vicinity. And what's sad is that you all probably think you're super cool for drinking a HALF a bottle of Captain Morgan between the 13 of you. Thats fucking gay!"

Just then the apparent eagle scout in question comes over with the bottle surprisingly, and I take it from his hands and begin drinking. I did this because I needed to become inebriated to even deal with the given situation. The second reason I did this was to fuck up these woodsman's night by the fire so that they can not attempt to pretend like they're men because the only real man there already drank their entire bottle of alcohol. Fuck them.

Sensing my disgust and angst one of the eagle scout posers decides to take us to the isthmus for the night, possibly to get on my good side, I still don't know. Its a place where they have a reggae band, dancing, and at least some kind of nightlife. I was ecstatic, I couldn't wait to get out of that shit hole I was stuck on. On our way over, the main Eagle in charge thought it would be funny to sit Face on the seat cushion of the boat that shoots water between the cracks. It wasn't realized until he got up to depart the boat what had happened. Mr. Eagle (who I'm sure is still a virgin at age 24) began to bust up laughing. Face didn't find this funny and before he got off the boat he thought it necessary to slap little virgin boy across his fat face to show him that normal people will actually beat you for doing such things. After seeing this I couldn't hold in the laughter, not that I hold it in anyway to spare people's feelings. Evidently after Face slapped this kid in the grill, he slipped in the boat and fell flat on his back with the most amazing awestruck look on his face I've seen in a long time. Now we found a laundromat surprisingly at the isthmus and that was our first stop. Face threw his shorts into the dryer and proceeded to sit there in the laundry room in nothing but his boxers. Again I began laughing, the shit was just funny. I mentioned earlier that his girlfriend came with him, so now she can serve a purpose and wait with him. I was on my way to go get smashed somehow, so I say goodbye. I venture over to the dance area and try to find some girls with liquor. BINGO! A girl in a pink skirt was sitting far off in the corner and I saw them with a bottle of something. I locked on to the table and began my approach.

Dom: "Yeah, I can see that you ladies appear to be refilling your drinks with something in your friend's purse there. You need to realize this is against Island policy and you have been caught red-handed."

Girls: *Fear*

Dom: "HAHA! I'm kidding! But you will have to share some of that with me because there's little to no alcohol on this godforsaken side of the island so I'm going to need assistance."

Turns out these chicks were cool and had I actually been a nice guy I would've remembered their names and tried to get to know them better. But I'm not so I didn't, nor where any of them highly attractive. But I did drink half that bottle of Parrot Bay straight, but that wasn't enough to get me on the midnight train to debauchery. It's sad when the only alcohol you can get your hands on is 40 proof Rum, but whatever we were in dire straits. I had to forget I was staying in a camp with a bunch of little dipshits and even bigger queers as counselors. One of whom recently getting slapped by one of the elite members of my asshole syndicate. I began laughing again thinking of the earlier display of comedy on the starboard side of the ship.

I'm going to fast forward to when we began our departure of the happening, totally kick ass isthmus that was filled with the leftover, unwanted, carnival sideshow acts of Catalina Island. As a matter of fact I think I saw the sea hag from Popeye there perusing the contents of the trash bins. I didn't even try to hook-up with anybody, thats how bad it was. But I was soon about to witness the most outlandishly hysterical thing I've ever seen in my life.

We get on the boat and its mostly a bunch of high school graduates out there for the summer to have fun and relax before college. Why they chose this side of the island is beyond me, but whatever. They turn all the lights off in the boat so bugs and other things won't be attracted to the lights bothering the passengers late at night. I did notice a little Asian girl through the darkness, directly in back of the boat facing forward. This girl hardly spoke any English at all, but was able to repeat it very well. It was only a matter of minutes before she began to get fucked with.

Guy1: "Tell me you want my dick!"

Girl: "I wanta yo dick." *Laughter Erupts*

Guy2: "Say 'I'm your daddy."

Girl: "You my dad-ee!" *Again laughter erupts*

I didn't partake in this type of amusement, it was too easy and represented absolutely no challenge whatsoever. It would be like running a race with a quadriplegic, absolutely pointless. But I had no problem listening. We laughed and such, but it was pretty lame comedy to be sure. Then it happened....... out of nowhere I felt a burst of wind hit me in the face and didn't even have time to react before I heard a..........."DAH! GAWD!!" in the back of the boat. The "DAH!" had an Asian accent.

Here's what happened and its one of those things I'll only be able to Picture this fish 3 times larger and about a half inch widerexperience once in my life. A flying fish had flown into the boat. It was going so fast that we didn't even see it, we just felt the wind as it flew past our faces. Here's the kicker, out of everyone in the boat, it hit the poor little Asian girl in the back of the boat that everyone was making fun of and who couldn't speak English. What are the odds. Some guy picked the fish up and spread its wings to show the boat how big this fucker was. And it was HUGE! Even I was surprised. After the insane bouts of laughter that never really ended, I realized the girl wasn't saying much. I got up and looked into the back of the boat where she was sitting. SHE WAS COMPLETELY KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT! Yup, no shit, this poor broad was on the floor while her friend was standing over her, rattling off some foreign gibberish, trying to wake her up. I've never seen anything so hysterically funny in all my life........ever. Turns out the girl was alright but the fish's head was so hard, almost like steel, that when it struck her in the forehead going that fast in nautical speed, it knocked her completely unconscious. Don't believe me? If you ever have the opportunity to touch the head of one of these fish, do so and get back to me. Face is still my witness to this day. I can't make this shit up if I tried.

The entire weekend was primarily composed of idiocy and dorks surrounding me and at first I was pissed off I even spent money for the boat ride over. But sometimes in life, God just hands you one, and I ended up seeing the most hilarious thing of my entire life that very same weekend. Sure, the other 99% of it was completely lame and stupid, but I did get to do some kayaking and cliff diving, and last but certainly not least I got to see a fish hit a foreign exchange student in the face. All in all it was a pretty decent way to spend a few days outside of L.A. I'm sure the vast majority of those children who are now young adults are still nerdy dipshits and I'm sure the counselors have married women who have since removed whatever few balls they had between their legs, but that is not my problem. They have all served an integral part of my life, albeit merely as entertainment and getting their own spot in the dude bro blog, which I can assure you is a good a place as any for fame of this magnitude.

You Catalina folk are all still my bitches,

The DomMega

The Mysterious Case of the Broken Bracelet...

 I live in a city that is and has been morally bankrupt since it's very inception. I believe the same can be said for the world in general, but in other geographical locales, it isn't something that's really encouraged. In Las Vegas, Nevada however, it is not only encouraged, it's very much celebrated. Inhibitions fly completely out the window and judging others for indulging their more taboo of whims is non-existent. As a matter of fact, it is the entire reason people from all over this big blue planet of ours frequent this city on an annual basis, sometimes far more frequent than annual. There's something here that possesses your very spirit and interaction with others where you cease to be the person you were and become something you yourself wouldn't recognize on your best day of sobriety, and this is what happens if you don't live here. Let's talk about some of the choice residents who I've met within the bowels of night.

I have met a ridiculous amount of poor choices and mistakes in the 702. Each one like a snowflake bearing it's own individualism, flaws, personality traits, and often times of the more recent, they are typically stranger and more emotionally dead than the one's before them. It's kind of like walking down a spiral staircase that gets darker and more fucked up as you descend. You hear disturbing voices, unorthodox verbal thoughts, and even weird baby crying noises that you'd hear in a psychotic movie, and you're so curious to see what's behind the next door you continue downward. We have just described my dating circuit and this definitely holds true with this last female whom I experimented with, who will in time, be nothing more than another number on a long list of convenient sexual interactions and late night romps getting me no further in the game of life than the last one did. The whole experience is reminiscent of jogging in place in the hopes of warming up and running a mile or two, but it inevitably gets dark outside and you lose interest and forget what it was you were even doing at the track. On a mental level I think about 98% of all residents here are operating day to day on autopilot. Hardly seeking enlightenment but entitlement as well as merely accepting what they see every day at face value and making a vein attempt of acting accordingly. I'm use to it and haven't had a female actually blow my mind mentally since back when southern California was still part of my weekend stomping grounds. But to be perfectly honest the names and the faces have become so amalgamated and juxtaposed with each other that I feel like I'm viewing the past through one of those fun house mirrors. I don't know who's who, where I met them, what conversations we've had, etcetera, but I do know what it inevitably led up to in 4 out of 5 cases examined. So without further a due, let's discuss the most recent failure of almost epic proportions (you can decide for yourself).

Have you ever really wondered how things end with certain individuals whom you choose to “date” or get semi-romantic with? When I think back on it myself, some of the reasons are absolutely hysterical. Others are just lackluster reasons like usually no longer liking the person, they smell like ass, they act like a dude, they're drug addicts, they have no self-worth, they're liars, cheaters, etc. You either just call it quits or stop calling and taking their calls, period. This one was a little different and due to the shear way of things going down as juvenile as they did, it gets its own place on dudebro. While perusing local night spots and even my own private community where I live, I meet people. Some of these encounters lead to something substantial, others do not. Some of them bring about simple conversation with others, some bring about hilarity, especially with employees of the two most famous jobs in Vegas for chicks, cocktail waitress and stripper. This story is about someone from the second occupation and how she's yet to actually grow up mentally as a person.

This particular individual whom we'll call “Tori” because you know I love pseudonyms, is one such character in my ongoing novel of life. She has been known to call me on the weekend around 2 or 3 in the morning to ask me if I thought she was stupid. She often times reads the stuff I write and will no doubt read this I'm sure. As a matter of fact when we were still on good terms and doing things of a romantic nature with each other I once heard her say, “You're not going to write about this on your website are you!?” To which I replied, “No hun, of course not!” However we were on good terms then, and now we are not and Dom happens to own and operate his own shit talking website. Oops.

I won't get into the actual things that transpired between us during those certain moments of intimacy because honestly they were very few and far between. She said I made her nervous because apparently she hasn't been with a male in about 4 years or so. She was playing for the other team for quite some time but apparently recalled her fondness for penis sometime after hanging out with me. I'm sure she's probably back to playing for that same team once again after dealing with me as I sometimes have that effect on certain people. Some women from my past still love and adore Dominic, whereas others detest my very existence. I try to have a clean exit strategy but sometimes shit happens and there isn't much you can do about it, and I'm at the age where I don't really care about doing anything about it. Unless I ran over your puppy and kicked your mom in the teeth, you'd be hard pressed to really get any kind of emotional response out of me.

Moving on, this girl was notorious for leaving shit at my house. If it wasn't a kitchen appliance for when I made dinner (which I do whether or not a female is here), it was jewelery. Among these items was a bracelet made from a gemstone which unbeknownst to me is very fragile. She left it on my counter and told me to put it somewhere safe. My whole house is safe, this place is like Fort Knox in a lot of ways. But because I blow things off and forget shit constantly, I just left it there on the counter. I wasn't going to wear it or anything and she could come pick it up next time she was over so I just forgot about it. The problem was she was a flake and would rather sleep all day then come pick up her belongings, and on my counter it remained.

I came home one day and found it on the tile floor by my door, broken. Apparently the thing fell off the counter somehow when I was cleaning or when the maintenance guy came over to fix something. I honestly don't know. After not seeing this girl for a week and me arguing with her about flaking for a certain festival taking place we got in a texting argument. (Yeah, an actual texting argument, which is where technology has taken us. I don't even have to yell on the phone anymore, which rules.) She called and said she had a $15 gift certificate for Olive Garden and would let me use it for dinner so we could "make up." I mean c'mon, $15 is a lot of money! I said OK and proceeded to meet her there on a Thursday night. Because I'm Dominic and have a strict rule of actually being honest with people I decided that at the restaurant would be where I broke the news (pardon the pun) about her bracelet. Evidently my honesty and being as forthcoming as I possibly can was NOT appreciated and in fact was reprimanded instead. The girl was pissed. Because it happened during our text fight, (yeah that's what I'm gonna call it, TEXT FIGHT!) she thought I had seriously broken her bracelet thingy on purpose. This is because I have nothing better to do than break other people's shit when I'm upset apparently. I can tell by the look in her eyes she wanted to punch me in the face. I told her that the thing could be repaired and in a very un-assholish gesture, I even offered to pay for it and be decent about it. Again, this was not met with positive feedback. In fact she told me that I shouldn't have even told her about it! But because I love all of you and knew I would be posting this, I have saved ALL of the text messages she sent me at 4 am that morning while I was still sleeping and I will now share them with all of you exactly as they came to me my gentle snowflakes, typos included.

Tori 4:04am- “I don't give a shit. Dnt even bother fixn it just giv it back 2 me. Ill tell her what happened and give her $4 a new one. I can't believe you did that.”

I'm still sleeping mind you. Sound asleep, not even replying.

Tori 4:07am- “U really are an asshole. I dont even want 2 b friends w u anymore. U want ppl 2 treat u a certain way but dnt care about any 1 elses feelings. Ur mean”

Tori 4:08am- “And I know u did it on purpose! Im not a fukn idiot. My aunt is 70 yrs old! Fuk. Ur a dick head. I wud never do that 2 any of my friends.”

Tori 4:11am- “And don't even touch my salad spinner! Ill pik it up 2mro and I dont even want to talk to you when I do.”

I am still sleeping folks.

Tori 4:25am- “I know the maintenance man didnt do it. Like youd really let them in ur apt whn ur not ther. U dont even make sense.”

Tori 4:27am- “dont be even more immature than u already have been n mess up my salad bowl. Im seriouse dom-dont fuk w me.”

Tori 4:31am- “I hate u. Ur a huge asshole. U should spend less time on being so smart w words n writing and more time on how 2 be a good person.”

Tori 4:35am- “God. Ur so into yourself it makes me sick! U hate whn ppl flake on u? I hate whn ppl take my beautiful thngs and treat them like garbage!!!”

I woke up later that day and told her she can come pick up her shit, that I left broken for her because me paying to have it fixed was out of the question because I am an asshole. I did however tell her that she was seriously exhibiting signs of narcissistic rage and that perhaps she should call an 800 number or talk to someone. I'm sure there's steps you can take if you find yourself in such situations in life and once again thought I would lend a helping hand.

This was her response instead:

Tori 11:10am- “Narcissistic rage? Dnt say what I am til I break somthn of urs. Not textn u again until 2nt whn im ther. Hope u wait 4me 2get thr b4 putn it out.”

I did not. I just left it on my balcony around 6pm or something. I thought me being decent at this point was well, pointless. But lets kind of digest the situation here. Dom was accused of breaking something on purpose, when in all honesty I didn't do it. If I actually chose to break it, I would have thrown it as hard as I could against my tile floor and it would have been in a lot more pieces than it was. I would say only ¼ of it's total circumference actually broke. I am insulted to think that if, in a fit of rage, I decided to break that thing Tori, that you honestly thought that it would only have one piece missing out of it. I would have went to town on that thing. I would have shattered it in as many pieces as possible. Then I would have taken a hammer and smashed those little pieces into even smaller pieces. At that point I would have just grinded up the remains with something and turned that bracelet into a very fine powder and gave THAT back to you in a zip lock bag. However I did none of those things.

What was shocking to me was that I knew the girl was going to be pissed. I also figured that she thought I honestly did it on purpose, hence the reason I offered to pay for it's repair. But what happens the one time Dom actually attempts to be nice? (And I did apologize surprisingly.) Yes, I am called an asshole, a dickhead, a jerk, a prick and a plethora of other uncomplimentary terms. I felt like I was back in high school or something, but even my girlfriend in high school was far more mature than this one, and this one is 27! Oh what a tangled web we weave when we're too stupid to weave webs.

So here is some quick advice for Ms. Tori:

 1.  I didn't break your stupid bracelet. Your maturity is exactly equivalent to that of a spider monkey who holds his hat out for change from tourists. Instead of having chicks pay you to date you as I was previously told, perhaps you should actually work on growing as a person and realize that accidents do in fact happen. Everybody makes mistakes in life, look at Hitler! But this wasn't even a mistake, the only mistake had here was you leaving shit at Dom's house and honestly thinking that the likelihood of something NOT happening to it in some way, shape, or form was unlikely. Your fault. If it was so important to you, then you should not have left it here to begin with. You could be over here right now talking about pointless and mundane things that I pretend are interesting!

 2.  And this is unrelated but get a boob job. I hear that there are certain establishments like clubs and other places in Vegas where they will actually pay for the surgery upon signing a 3-4 year contract. I have lots of friends out here who are female and do what you do. They make upwards of $3,000 a night when it's slow, whereas you're lucky if you make about $400. You've been in this business long enough to know that there are plenty of other women out there making a killing at strip clubs, and you choose to ignore the obvious. Instead of going back to school, you're going to milk the stripping thing and you're OK with making peanuts for the duration of the time you're doing it. And you called me stupid? Those funbags would be a tax write off! Get with the program and start making some real cash!

 3.  You're not a bad person per se, but you are seriously dumb. I seriously had to dumb down a large majority of my discourse with you because you honestly just did not understand what I was talking about. This ranged from my casual conversations about what little politics I discuss and know about, to educated humor where I was often asked by you, “What does that mean?” and a severe lack of just honest to God common knowledge that any schmuck should be aware of. Go to school. Do something with yourself. Your boobs won't sag when you get older because you don't really have any, but I guarantee you, you won't be a commodity at the old lady club you're currently working at forever. Do something with yourself that has some substance. When you're ashamed of what you do enough to where you won't share it with family members, then you should probably stop doing it at some point. Just saying. And who knows, maybe by moving outside that world of nakedness, drugs, booze and idiocy, you may come into contact with some mildly educated people whom you can actually grow as a person with. Sky's the limit!

 4.  Stop gambling, seriously. Perhaps Vegas isn't the ideal place for you to live if you have gambling problems. I know you've won at certain bar machines before, and pretty decent amounts at that, but you need to stop chasing the dragon. Because of your degenerative gambling disease, you were evicted from your apartment when you constantly kept paying it two weeks late and then you just couldn't pay it at all after that. Another tell tale sign of your maturity is that you called the managers all bitches because they evicted you. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think that because you pay your rent late all the time you were going to be inducted into the “Cool Girl Club” where the rules of the world cease to exist with you? That's actually not what happens. In reality, where I live, they tell you to go kick rocks and also to pack up your shit and move out of the apartment you can't pay for because you fuck off all your money. There's an 800 number you can call for gambler's anonymous. Perhaps one of my swell readers could provide it for you and you can give them a call. I'm giving you gold here Tori, perhaps you should take it for what it is and make some adjustments to your life. The family would be proud, you would be proud of yourself, and your friends would be like, “Damn girl, you gots it goin on baby! How do I get like you?” And you can say, “I once knew this asshole Dominic who actually made me curse the day he was born, but in the end gave me some good old fashioned advice that I applied to my own life and that has made all the difference.”

Lastly I will just end with a quote from a wise man in a movie called “Gangs of New York.” His name was William Cutting aka Bill the Butcher. Sometimes there are just people who have said it better, so why not just end with a quote that says exactly what you're trying to sum up?

“Here's the thing. I don't give a ten penny fuck about your moral conundrum you meat-headed shit sack. That's more or less the thing.”

Dom goes to Vegas, almost gets married (before I moved here)...

This was requested by a friend who never heard the story about how I almost got married in Vegas back in early 2001 or 2002 or something so it's definitely not recent. It's pretty funny and worth repeating for those who haven't heard it. Plus it was time to get something new up on dudebro besides an article about a sandwich. Enjoy.

The majority of the time I’m in Vegas I’m in such an alcoholic haze that the things I’m told I do make absolutely no logical sense to me. But as we all know, when you add alcohol, your buddys, hookers, strippers, clubs, and casinos all into the same formula, some interesting factors are going to take place. So I think the story I’ll share with my readers this time is the time I almost got married in the V-town to a drop-dead gorgeous Romanian immigrant. Lets proceed....

I touched down at McCarran like I usually do. I have officially "loathed" the drive to Vegas for about 4 years now, so I don’t drive there. As a matter of fact, I hate all long drives anywhere. I’ll just jump my ass on a plane and get there in an hour or so, while being drunk the whole time. Alcohol is my bitch and will always have my full and utmost attention. Especially when I’m on vacation or in my off-time. Now you see why I fly whenever I go somewhere.

We arrive at baggage claim to get our multitude of luggage for the duration of our stay. Walking out front I realize for once I want to take an actual limo to our hotel. Seeing me, B-Legit, Face, and The Doctor were all highly intoxicated anyway, we all agree. I see a black limo pull up with no reservation for anyone and flag him down. We all pitch in and jump inside. The first thing I go for was the bottle of bourbon in the sidebar. Have I eaten breakfast yet? No, of course not, I’m currently drinking my breakfast.

We pull up at the Flamingo and I’m still drinking as is everyone else. The driver had to open the door and suggest we depart or he’d charge us for another hour. I figured he served his purpose, got us there in style, and I wanted to check in anyway so I can have free drinks at the craps table. We get out and he bids us farewell. Yeah whatever, its GO time!

We check in, drop off all of our shit in the room. Crank the air conditioner all the way up to like 58 degrees or some shit (we take advantage) and proceeded to go downstairs. We had some buffet breakfast real quick, its cheap and its fast and they make it so. I have no problem with that, I’m in a hurry to continue my drinking binge. I give little Garaputo my plates and leftover table relics and we’re off to the tables.

I played craps for quite some time. I made drunken friends with men obviously in their mid-life crisis from the clothes they were wearing and the cars they were bragging about just purchasing. I didn’t care though, if they’re getting drunk with me and having a good time as we make fun of passers-by then all is right with the world. After a few hours of this however, B-Legit and myself decide that we must go hit up one of our favorite nudy bars in Vegas. Turns out we were gambling, drinking, and womanizing longer than we thought because it was now dark outside. But thats how Vegas is sometimes.

We get a cab with some ex-crip gangmember as a driver and are in route to the fantastic Olympic Gardens. OG’s is one of my favorite nudy bars because the women are all gorgeous as one should expect for being right on Las Vegas Blvd, and the drinks are strong. I throw down a dub (thats $20, friend) and make my way around the cashier to find a suitable place to sit and poor alcohol into my face. I find it and my boys immediately join me.

Here's where it all happened...

Now B-Legit is like the nudy bar godfatherof the crew. He gets lap dances with women and they pretty much do everything to this kid you can imagine. He’s been *insert whatever you can think of here* and God knows what else. Out here in Cali, a girl came back out after the lap dance to where we were sitting, just to give him her number. He never calls, its awesome and I love it. When I asked him what his reason for not calling them is, he always replies, "These girls are nothing more than my entertainment for the night. Anything that is to develop outside these doors would be a waste of my time. I love strippers, but only when they’re at work. I don’t think they’re very smart and I don’t find them to be that entertaining OUTSIDE of work, so fuck ’em." I couldn’t agree more, although some strippers have been close friends of mine in the past. But the majority of the part about them being stupid and uninteresting is usually true.

Well we’re now situated and having a smoke or two with our long islands just waiting to see who’s going to come bother us for a lap dance and who was going to get immediately denied for doing so. I don’t really get lap dances anyway, but if I do it sure as hell isn’t going to be within the first hour I’m there. I have to marinate and get a comfortable view of ass, thighs, and tits in my face for anything of substance to happen. And 2 hours later, here she came...

Now don’t ask me what her name was, I couldn’t tell you. But I can describe verbatum what she looked like. Short white hoochy shorts, but classy somehow. A sequined bikini top exposing the perfect curvature of two perfect breasts and her legs. Legs that were so long, shapely and beautiful I had one of my temporary lapses of lust or love, I still don’t know what it was to this day, but she had my attention. Her hair caressed her shoulders as she turned her neck to look at me, and her skin was softer than a down pillow and satin sheets. She wore open-toed low platform shoes and her feet were perfection each time she took a step towards me. Her eyes were gleaming like 4 carats a piece, blinding yours truly like a freight train was coming down the tracks head on with just me standing there. And the ass, the ass would’ve made grown men leave their families of two decades to shack up with that thing for just one night. Things were heating up at a geometric rate.

She sat down next to me and just began small talk. At this point, I’m so fucking gone, everything was spinning, and everything sounded convincing. I’m no longer with my boys, she’s lured me to some back corner of the place as she sat on my lap, kissing my neck, and stroking my better half.  Turns out she was an immigrant from Romania but wanted nothing more than to be a legal resident of the united states. I think you see where this is going.....

We started making out and she was putting my hands on her chest and my other in between her legs. Now she sucking on my ear lobes and whispering all sorts of nastiness into my ear, and I’m loving it. In my highly, highly intoxicated frame of mind, (I’d been drinking since boarding the plane early that morning ,remember?) I heard her say she’d love to spend the rest of her life with someone like me. I immediately got up and grabbed her by the hand and was walking out of the building. B-Legit stopped me and asked where I was going. I remember saying, "I’m in a hurry, I’ll be next door, bye bye then!"

Well there was one of those speedy drive-thru wedding chapels next door and I was well on my way. I got there and remembered making out with her more as we waited to get our number. Upon seeing me, the cashier said I looked a little intoxicated and should maybe rethink my decision this particular evening. I remember telling her something like, "I don’t pay you to think or make my decisions for me, I pay you to give me one of those fancy certificates you got back there. Thanks!" I’m getting antzy because I really want to bang this gorgeous broad who’s latched onto me right now, and for some reason I think time is of the essence. I also recall suggesting to her we just consummate the marriage in the janitor’s broom closet behind us before the marriage itself even takes place. She starts giggling and says, "Good things cummmmmmm to those who wait." I look up and we’re next.

I stand up and walk to the alter thingy wearing my damn hawaiian shirt and dickies, and the lines come. "Do you *garbled name* take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold" so on so forth. Without even flinching she replies, "I DO!" Then he turned to me, "Do you Dominic, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" I was about to say, "I DO!" in my euphoric state of sex and liquor when I felt a large hand grasp my neck. I was yanked and carried out of the wedding chapel by B-Legit, Face, and The Doctor. I remember them saying to the minister as I was being carried out on B-Legits back, "You already passed the speak or forever hold your piece part, so we’re just going to drag him outta here! SORRY!"

So you see, I have good friends for the most part. Chances are the next week I would’ve got the marriage annuled, unbeknownst to her, as I flew back to Cali, and everything would’ve been ok and I still would’ve banged the hot Romanian girl. But my boys, being the types of guys they are, knew that I’d probably fuck that up somehow and didn’t even let the situation transpire. And lets be honest here, going through with a marriage in a tiny Vegas chapel regardless of your intoxication level, just to get a piece of ass is pretty retarded. I was doing way too much than was probably necessary, but I’ve done lots of dumb things in my life due to my fondness for the drink. But honestly, how hard is it to bang a stripper? I mean seriously?

There was one other time I almost got married, and that too took place in Vegas, its just that kind of a town.

"The Capastrami"= the greatest sandwich in the world...

OMG here it is!!!Let me tell you about the best pastrami sandwich to ever exist...

I'm suppose to be sending off some letters of recommendation to a local Network Operations Center right now but this is far more important, and I have to get it down while it's still fresh. Also, as a final mention before starting, I am NOT affiliating with "Capriotti's Sandwich Shop" in any way shape or form. I am merely just a happy consumer who luckily has one of these places less than a mile from his home.

As I was coming home from my interview today I decided to stop and get a sandwich. I didn't know exactly where to go but then I drove by a place called “Capriotti's” and have heard amazing accolades about this place from everyone I know out here. So as Fortuna would have it, I decided to walk through those doors and it was a life changing experience.

As I took my first step into the establishment I was greeted by it's employees.

“How you doin' today sir?”

Dom- “I am great, how are you?”

“Pretty good, have you ever been here before.” (It's like he knew what was about to transpire.)

Dom- “Nope, but I wanted to sample a sandwich.”

“You've heard about us though right?”

Dom- “Oh yes, word of mouth has nothing on this place.”

So as I gazed upon the menu that has no doubt been written by the sandwich deities of the heavens, I saw it. It was called “The Capastrami” and was on the side of the menu that included 3 other hot sandwiches. Being the advocate that I am for pastrami I decided that this was to be today's choice, however I was unaware the type of impact it would have on my life.

After about 10 minutes or so of the chef concocting the greatest culinary masterpiece of a sandwich the world has ever known, immediately hand delivered it to me, wrapped in thick gray paper that is used by only the finest of delicatessens. Who knew that just a few short seconds later that I would be teleported to a place of pure euphoric pleasure. I would imagine from a taste perspective, the first time you try this sandwich may possibly be like someone's first time doing heroin. I honestly wouldn't know that feeling, but I'm just going to go with that analogy and continue onward. I also believe that at some point during the Capriotti's lineage, one of their heroic ancestors braved the ascent up Mount Olympus, slapped Zeus across his fat mouth and stole the recipethis was probably the Capriotti that punked Zeus for this sandwich as a gift to mankind, to be enjoyed until the end of times, much like Prometheus did with fire. Except Prometheus got punked in the end by being shackled to a rock and had his liver eaten by a crow everyday, whereas the Capriotti family opened up a sandwich shop and made lots of

money.

The "Capastrami" is comprised of only four ingredients. The bread that is used for this sandwich is non-negotiable. It's a white bread, and they know that it is the absolute best bread to be used for this sandwich, so your opinion on this subject serves no purpose. Moving on, you have your basic meat on the bottom being pastrami of course, but immediately above that there is just a very thin layer of swiss cheese, that is a marriage of flavor in and of itself. A union of this magnitude is enough to shake the very foundation of every sandwich you've ever known up to this point. If marriages were this outstanding between actual people, the current divorce rate would be 0.00%. But did it stop there? No! Above the swiss cheese there is an amazing helping of cole slaw, but it's not just any cole slaw it is obviously some kind of family recipe cole slaw that reminded me of something my grandmother use to create during the holidays. There were special ingredients involved here, the likes of which you know not. And then to top this all off there is just a hint or a punch of Russian dressing to garnish the entire sandwich, that was put there just for you, the fortunate consumer.

Now I've had Russian dressing before on salads and I wasn't impressed. I recall telling the waiter, "take this commie salad back to where it belongs. Free men do not indulge in dressings from mother Russia!" But today that was no longer the case. My taste buds had no idea what to do. I stood there in momentary shock at the grandiosity of what I was attempting to consume, but I was having trouble. Never before in my life have I ever truly had a sandwich bursting at the seams with so much flavor that my mouth became petrified. The world stood completely still, and I was basking in the Elysian fields with all the war heroes of history, as I slowly devoured each bite, savoring its nectar, unsure if I could handle the next. To say it was an amazing experience would be nothing more than a misdirected understatement. You truly believe that you are merely undertaking the consumption of a sandwich, but you ultimately end up in state of euphoric grandjeur, the likes of which you've never experienced on any scale.

Today felt like the first time I ever engaged in adult activities with a woman. Everything I thought I knew about the world went completely out the window. I left Capriotti's today in a state of enlightenment that I haven't felt in almost two decades. From one random guy being mentally coerced through those doors simply by word of mouth this morning, this establishment has now started a completely new fanbase with a completely new network of people. Not bad for a first date Capriotti's, not bad.

Also, here is a video that a good friend of mine named Doug from Soundman Car Audio in Santa Clarita, CA (http://www.soundmancaraudio.com) and his girlfriend Kelly, along with myself filmed while actually venturing to Capriotti's in southside Las Vegas. I am actually half dead in this video because I was up for about 24 hours when we filmed it. I'm usually far more dynamic. Either way enjoy, its quite good.

Dom gets dumped in 20 minutes; retard to blame...

I was talking to one of my best friends today and I told her about a date that I had a few years back. She started laughing uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. I figured if the story had that much comedic allure, Id retell it here. This should be relatively short as the date only lasted 20 minutes.

I remember a few years back I was at a bookstore perusing some books about finance. I didnt see anything I really liked so I went over to Real Estate to see if something there caught my eye. Well, there was definitely something there  that did but it wasnt in the form of literature. There was a very attractive young lady sitting there at one of the coffee kiosks doing her homework. I walked by her and saw that she was taking a sociology class just as I did many years ago. Conversation ensued:

Dom: Sociology huh? Are you finding society to be as demented and ridiculous as I did when I took that class?

Hot Chick: Haha, its funny you mention it because this class is slowly just becoming a source of comedy to me the more I go.

Dom: I dont blame you, it was a joke when I took it. Are you here just doing your homework or what?

Hot Chick: Yeah, the school library is always crowded with weirdoes.

Dom: Yeah, I dont think I ever kicked it there myself. Well, if youre going to have some free time later this week we should go out and have some dinner. School will stress you out if you dont make time for fun in between. Im thinking Chinese food. Eating food with two sticks has always intrigued me.

Hot Chick: Sounds great actually, heres my number. Give me a call and well set something up.

Now that of course was the readers digest version of what transpired. In reality it wouldve taken a little more work than that to retrieve a number. As far as what was actually said and how long it took, I dont know. Give me a break it was like 3 or 4 years ago, bite me. I just remember the conversation going somewhat along those lines. I wasnt as aggressive because I figured she was a "nice" girl in certain aspects so I took a different verbal route. So with that I was gone. It was a typical greeting, make someone smile, get the number  and go about your day. I didn't care, she was really, really hot and worth the approach. What I was unaware of however was that this girl was a born-again Christian. I can handle religious girls to an extent; theyre not all that bad. But if youve never gone out with a born-again than its imperative for you to realize that theyre like Jesus Nazis and only think clean jokes are funny and many are quite sheltered. Boy, was she in for a rude awakening.

Fast-forward a week and Im on my way to go meet her at a Chinese restaurant I really like. I saw her in the parking lot waiting for me so I parked my car and met up with her. As we were walking down the sidewalk towards the restaurant, that was when I saw it.

Walking across the street was a short, obese, retarded person complete with helmet. I think there was also a physical retardation here because it appeared to me that one of his legs was longer than the other. There was an everlasting string of drool from his bottom lip to the center of his shirt and the noises he made while walking were incredible. If someone told me to duplicate them, it would probably sound like a donkey fighting a hippo. Like I said it was incredible. He was also intolerably dirty, kind of like he was rolling around in car grease all day. As he strolled past parked cars he was making loud farting noises with his tongue and spitting all over the windows. Sometimes God just hands you one.

He kind of looked like this guy, except with a helmet on.

If any of my stories have been any indication as to my sadistic sense of humor, than you should obviously know that I started laughing so uncontrollably I couldnt walk anymore. So much in fact I had tears coming out of my eyes and was unable to breathe. I was actually gasping for breath in public out of the shear hilarity of what I was witnessing. The only thing that comes close to this is when my friend Bobby told me he saw a tard in an electric wheelchair fall into a missing piece of sidewalk down on sunset. The poor guys wheelchair fell over sideways and started kicking up rocks behind it because he was still holding his joystick forward.

Awesome.

Well to this girls unpleasant surprise she found out, only after twenty minutes mind you, that her date was a complete, unsympathetic asshole. How do I know this? Because thats exactly what she called me as she walked back to her car to go home. Not before of course she told me of her denomination of faith and that she had only heard about people like me, but never so much as imagined herself actually going on a date with one. Was she a little too uptight? Yeah, probably. I should actually have thanked that brave retarded gentleman for walking across the street the way he did. He saved me about $30 or so on a girl who wouldve inevitably pissed me off a day or two after dinner Im sure.

I laugh at retarded people because well, theyre funny. They really are, and I find solitude in the fact that I didnt make them retarded, their parents just had shitty genes. Or maybe they were taking drugs while pregnant or dropped at some point in their baby years of life. I dont know. All I do know is that it isnt my fault and retarded people are hilarious, hands down. I have friends who have a retarded brother or sister or something and we laugh at them all the time. They tell me, "What am I suppose to be serious all the time because theyre retarded and not laugh at the stupid shit my brother does on a daily basis? Fuck that, its funny. You shouldve saw when he peed on himself in the sandbox when we were kids and all the other kids jumped out of it screaming."

Now thats Dominic comedy on a grand scale. If you cant take it, youd probably be strongly advised to walk back to your vehicle and forget you ever met me. Adding your own derogatory discourse at that point, projected at me no less, is ultimately up to you.

Now if anyone can find me a midget who likes to get insanely intoxicated, I swear I’ll give you a finder’s fee and take him everywhere I go.