Banality Fair Goes To Vegas, Part 2

After the fact, I thought that maybe I should have bartered with Breasty. Gotten something for giving her my cap. Instead:

Joseph K: Sure, take it.

She took my blue Washington Nationals cap and saunter to the center of the bar area. She pulled down her white tube top and put my cap over her right breat. It hung there. Then it went up. And down. And up. And down.

My cap got to second base. I have to say, my cap was never the same the rest of the trip. It was cocky. Too cocky.

She handed it back to me, and I debated whether I should wear it again. After all, it had been on some random woman's breast. I put it back on, and got brain freeze.

Jospeh K: Wild.
M. Fresh: Yeah.

Just then, these two people sitting at the table next to us approached us.

Guy 1: Mind if we join you?
"Guy" 2: Is it cool?
M. Fresh: Sure. You guys having a good time?
Guy 1: Yeah.
"Guy" 2: It's my 21st birthday weekend.
M. Fresh: Congratulations. Let us buy you a round.

Banality Fair Goes To Vegas, Part 1

Just got back from a weekend in Vegas with M. Fresh. We have an uncanny ability to attract the surreal.

So, after a few beers to get us loosened up, M. Fresh and I debated where to go next.

M. Fresh: So, where do you want to go next?
Joseph K: I am kind of up in the air.
M. Fresh: Me too.
Joseph K: Last time I was here, we ended up stumblling into a room filled with hookers at the Alladin. Amusing to watch them in action at a Disney-themed (maybe?) casino.
M. Fresh: The Alladin it is.

So we ended up at the Alladin. We went to the upstairs bar, where my friend A and I came across the afore-mentioned hookers.

We sat at a table. No hookers. No waitress even.

Joseph K: This is lame.
M. Fresh: Yeah, maybe we should go somewhere else.
Joseph K: Let me try and order a drink first.

As I waited for a bartender to notice me, a waitress appeared at the table. Things were looking up.

As we were enjoying our Newcastles, Suddenly, M. Fresh's eyes widened.

Joseph K: Some women is showing her tits behind me, isn't she?
M. Fresh: Yes.
Joseph K: My breast radar rarely fails me.

I turned around, and there was some woo-hoo girl with her tube top down. Sporting two fine examples of man-made breasts.

Joseph K: Pardon me, I have to move my seat.
M. Fresh: That's understandable.

Then, the woman started performing tricks. One breast up. The other one up. Both down. Remarkable control of her breasts, the type of which is usually seen on higher-end strippers. But, not at the Alladin casino bar. Usually, anyways. She was putting on the show for this table of 10 or so guys.

Then she looked at me and walked over. I was dressed in a maroon tee-shirt and jeans. And a baseball cap.

Breasty: Can I borrow your cap?

Finally Grillin' And Almost Dying

I made a very important step in my life yesterday. I finally bought a grill. A charcoal grill to be precise. It would not have happened but for the research hard work and enthusiasm of this one friend of mine. I rewarded her by having her make me a meal using it.

It actually went fine at first. Assembly was a snap. Then, we had to get the coals going. We were using some sort of device known as a chimney to light them. It is a cylindrical thing in which you put the newspapers and coal you use to get the coals going. Those coals really lit up. This enormous flame shot out and I was convinced they were going to set my house and those of my neighbors on fire.

And, the flames wouldn't go down. Finally, I did something that likely offended the barbeque gods: I poured a little water on the coals to calm it down. The flames went down (but still there -- this fire was indefitgable) and the coals still burned. I didn't realize that "chimney" is a synonym for "flamethrower." I am not sure I am going to use that device again.

The Economic Cost of Pimpin'

I do agree with the general adage that "pimpin' ain't easy." By "pimpin'" I mean trying to date multiple people at the same time. But, I think it ain't easy for atypical reasons. In my opinion, the economic costs of pimpin' make it more costly than beneficial. There are two costs in particular costs that stand out to me.

1. The actual cost of dating multiple people. If you are dating three people at the same time and are being a gentleman (sucker) then the costs, over time, can be astronomical. Imagine spending at least $60 a night, three times a week. Also, you have to assume you'll spend one extra night with one of them. So make it four nights. That is $240 or almost $1,000 a month. For many people that is anywhere from 25%-50% of your monthly income. If you invested than much a month in mutual funds, you could probably retire on that investment in 30 years. Even going halfsies is $500 a month, which is a steep sum too. I realize this is a gain to restaurant and bar industry and perhaps the economy overall. Stop overthinking this.

2. Productivity losses. The productivity loss can be measured in two ways. First, there is the lost productivity at work from having to respond to emails and phone calls from multiple people. Time that could be spent working is spent planning dinner or hearing about someone else's day. Then, there is the actual time spent with the multiple people. Again we are talking 3-4 nights a week. Books unread, home improvements undone (impacts resale value of home), professional development not done (affects earning power).

On final analysis, pimpin' imposes more personal economic cost than benefit. I know financial planners talk about the value of diversification. But, in this instance, you'll go broke, and you'll end up being a lot less productive. And, then, there is the fact that they all begin to blend together at some point.

Geeks

I am a fantasy football geek. Actually, I am a geek generally. But, among the many subgroups of geekdom, I am definitely affiliated with that of fantasy football geeks. And, the next season is about to start.

Over the years, league membership has stabilized. It's basically the same 11-12 core group of guys. We are all in our 30s. And we live vicariously through the sporting exploits of men who are bigger, faster and better looking than us.

When you are in that age bracket, a lot of important life events happen between last season and this season. Two of the guys had babies. One got married. One got engaged. One got engaged and then broke it off a few months before the wedding. All of these men are going to spend many, many hours preparing for the live draft in a couple of weeks. They'll love their wives and babies. But, they'll also love to get Kansas City RB Larry Johnson.

Joseph K is the commisioner. Do I get drunk with power on occasion? Absolutely. But, I like to think of myself as a benign dictator with thick skin. And you have to be, because all of these guys in their 30s whine and cackle about everything. And the phone calls to gossip about league goings on (trades, beefs) ... man they can take some time out of the work day.

One year, Commish K was to busy to run the league and a buddy took it over. He started to use democracy and consensus-building to determine scoring and other league issues. It was chaos. The following year, I regained control of the league and imposed my iron-fisted, dictatorial ways. Things are much smoother under my firm hand.

Inevitably there are 3 to 4 major falling outs a year. Major fights, where these 30 year olds refuse to talk to each other for weeks. These fights usually result from the inevitable trashtalking that goes on, trashtalking that often borders on the surreal. Here is a sample of some from the lead up to last year's championship game:

• This weekend, your team will be as impotent as an 80 year old dong fresh out of the shower. As you grasp your withered, lifeless vestige of manhood lost, you'll yearn for your days of fantasy football virility.
• Now if I am an 80-yr old man, I am not the type with a withered manhood, but rather I am a Charlie Chaplin-esque wizened old Don Juan (CC had babies when he was in his 70's) and I am going to knock your team up like he did his dear wife Oona.
• Every sports dynasty is tested by a gatekeeper who first serves as a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. The Cowboys had the 49ers. The Bulls had the Pistons. And I have you. You are a fossil. A relic of a bygone era in fantasy football. You might want to change your Depends and refill your Viagra prescription, because if you're Charlie Chaplin, I'm Joe McCarthy and this weekend your pinko commie ass is going into exile.
• You seem to be well-versed in childish things such as bogeyman monsters from kiddie movies and TV shows when you were a wee lad being mocked for trying to intimidate the schoolyard bullies with your weak version of "I Pity the Fool". Winning the Superbowl, however, requires experience. The type of experience that I have had in defeating you 2x in our previous postseason matchups (TB and SB), as well as our meeting this year. My seasoned veteran team has faced adversity, overcome Jesus and all sorts of other problems. We are barely being held together, but we know how to win.
• Well I'll be god-damned! FF owners not fit to eat the corn out of my crap are battling for the championship, while I am toiling in utter obscurity somewhwere amongst the base and common masses. I missed the passage where it was written, "honor the mediocre and the shitty, for they shall inherit the earth, whilst the strong shall be consigned to eighth' place."

The last comment was from a guy whose team finished out of the playoffs last year. At least it gave him more time to spend with his 18 month-old son. Thank goodness our wives and girlfriends don't read the league message board.

But, the league is like its own dysfunctional family. A place where we are free to be a bunch of pointless knuckleheads. To act 1000 times more boorishly than we could in our real lives. I am getting so fired up for it.

More Questions Answered

A questioner from Henderson Nevada asks -- "entrap jesus with their questions about if they should pay caeser tax." This is a common misperception about the ways the Pharisees and others tried to test Jesus. It comes from a bad translation of some original Aramaic and Greeek versions of the gospels. These haters never sought to entrap Jesus by asking about taxes (how silly). No, they hired Wonder Woman and she sought to entrap him with her magic lasso. And of course it failed.

Unanswered Questions

Often, people end up at Banality Fair after typing in a search query. And, I fear that the posts those folks are directed to do not directly answer their questions. So, I am going to try and respond to those unanswered questions in this post:

1. To the reader in San Jose who ended up here based on this query, "Is it ok for a Christian to go to a Sikh wedding?": Not only is it ok, it is Christastic! That said, as a Christian, you are not going to be prepared for sitting on the ground cross-legged for an hour and a half. Practice before you go. Or make like the other Sikhs and grab a prime seat along one of the temple walls.

2. A lot of searchers looking for the elusive Dr. Dmitri Zorken. Fellas: He does not exist. Just learn to deal with your small peckers.

3. To our Brazilian from who got here after typing in the query "the world be strange, we all" -- frankly, I cannot help you with this gibberish. But, if you are one of those many, many incredibly hot Brazilian women, email us at banalityfair@yahoo.com and we make your world as strange as you want it.

4. To our friend from San Diego who got here after writing in the following query "step on a used condom" -- I assume you are asking what happens if you do that. The exact same thing that happens when you step on a sidewalk crack. You break your momma's back.

5. Our friend from Bloomingdale, Illinois wonders whether "Gary Fencik gay?" Fabulous, maybe. Gay, I dunno.

6. To the many people from the Phillipines who get hear by typing "fuck mather" -- I'd like to think your typo was hitting "h" instead of "t." That you are saying "fuck matter," because you want to take it to the next dimension. Go from matter to pure energy. Free energy. Yeah, fuck matter! (and you too, thoery of relativity) But, we all know you are actually a bunch of Oedipal sickos.

The Running Of The Brides

Every year, a certain Filene's Basement (FB) in D.C. stages a "Running of the Brides." Basically, FB slashes the prices of its bridal gowns, and then opens its doors to a mass of women.

What ensues next is carnage. Its like a swarm of pirhanas descending on a wounded cow that stumbled into the Amazon. The dress racks are picked clean in seconds. Some women arrive in gangs, and the weaker women are stripped of the finer fare. The floor at FB at these events often flows with the blood of the weak.

Authorities had implemented several security measures to contain the casualties, but this year's casualties were comparable to last years, 6 dead and 43 injured. Not all the news was bad, though. Amy Johnson was gushed to a local paper, "I got the greatest dress ever! For $349! I hope the blood stains come out eventually."

We do too, Amy.

Eleanor Holmes Norton Interview

I think it was Michel Foucault who said, "If you can't be with the one you love, they may not exist." Stephen Colbert raises this interesting existentialist syllogism with D.C. Congressional delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton: if we live in the United States, and D.C. is not a state, is it really part of the United States? This interview is the best I have seen in a while: