Bloggers and Bunnies Part I: The Arrival

I ripped a gagger in front of the spider monkey cage and wondered how many blowjobs Hef must have gotten standing in the same exact place. Did all of Hef's girlfriends swallow? The blonde hair and the enhanced boobular region was a must and I assumed slurping down Hef's love juice was also part of the job description of being Hef's latest fuck toy.

The existentialist moment of "How the fuck did I get here?" (which creeps up on me every few months) got a hold of me as I stood in the middle of the largest concentration of Redwoods in Southern California. It kept the Mansion secluded from the outside world while it provided a lush habitat for his small zoo and aviary that housed Hef's parrots, cockatoos, peacocks, rabbits, and spider monkeys. If you are a fan of the HBO series Entourage, there was a scene where Johnny Drama was banned from the Playboy Mansion because Hef assumed he let all the animals out of the zoo during a pajama party a decade ago. During the course of the episode, the viewers found out it was Ralph Macchio Pauly Shore who got drunk and let loose all the monkeys and finally Johnny Drama was back in good graces with Hef. I prayed that none of us would do anything stupid enough to get kicked out (like puke in the Grotto) or egregious enough that we would be banned for life (like puke on the spider monkeys). At some point during the course of the evening, we'd all flirt with that one moment where if the impulsive side of our degenerate gambler brains would steer us down a dark path of lunacy. Fortunate for all of us, we all survived the mind fuck of wandering around the Hugh Hefner's backyard shithoused drunk.

We all gathered at a hotel near LAX to meet up with AlCantHang who flew in from Philadelphia just for the event. The other seven of us drove from Las Vegas where we had been partying and gambling. Change100 drove Spaceman and I through bat country in the desert. Without any traffic to LA, we made great time. CJ drove the rental car and followed Joe Speaker a few hours later. By the time they arrived, I was already downing glasses of SoCo with AlCantHang.

We were given a free room that was given to the bloggers for covering the event. We were supposed to get two, but they only had one, which meant that Bobby Bracelet had to sleep on the floor wrapped in an AIDS-ridden bed spread and that BG had to curl up into the fetal position in the mildew encrusted bathtub. I luckily was going to stay with Change100 anyway which helped alleviate the sleeping situation. We really paid very little attention to that. We had bigger tasks at hand like getting ready for the Mansion. Between the eight of us, we must have spent about $300 each on new clothes. I know most women who will spend that on a pair of shoes but for us guys that's a ton of money. We didn't care. We were heading to the Mansion.

Several poker pros were also booked at the same hotel. Steve Dannenmann, who took second place at the 2005 WSOP (and won $4.5 million), ended up drinking with us at the bar along with "Cowboy" Hoyt Corkins and Gavin Smith, who's one of the top young players on the tour today. Dannenmann bought us all drinks and said he'd reward the blogger who had the best fake story about him. None of us had been invited to the Playboy Mansion before, but since poker players were the new rock stars, they were invited to appear at the charity poker event.

AlCantHang got chummy with them and hitched a ride in their limo to the Mansion. We were stuck having to drive to UCLA's parking lot and hop on a shuttle to the Mansion. We parked under the athletic fields and I quickly took a piss behind a pillar with Boy Genius. It was our first classless move of the night and would not be the first stint of public urination.

We figured out that we had to check in first before we could get on the shuttle. There were several lines... players, guests, talent, and media. Yeah, we were media reps and got word that no cameras would be allowed. So I didn't take one with me. I just took my notepad, a pen, my voice recorder, and my party favors.

There was a mix up and we could not get checked in. Spaceman called our contact and when she arrived five minutes later, we had the go ahead. We boarded the shuttle to the Mansion and I felt like a kid on Christmas morning ready to tear into my first present. As we passed through the gates, BG who had been sitting next to me said, "I think we should enjoy this moment in silence."

He was right. We were stepping onto scared sacred ground as the iron cast gates slowly crept open to allow us inside. As the bus climbed the hill, we could see the Mansion sitting on top with a large sloping lawn in front.

The bus stopped and we all got off clueless on where to go. There was no sign of AlCantHang's limo with the poker pros. The red carpet was in front of us with paparazzi clutching cameras and a film crew behind the ropes. Should we go behind the ropes? Or walk the carpet? We huddled in hesitation for a few seconds, when Joe Speaker pointed to the red carpet.

Fuck it.

I led the way and headed down the carpet while I took a deep breath. When the red carpet ended, I found myself in the backyard only a few steps from the Grotto and infamous stone bar. I never stopped my stride and walked up to the bar with Joe Speaker as I looked back and watched CJ, Spaceman, Bobby Bracelet, BG, and Chad all saunter inside with shit-eating grins on their faces. Speaker flashed me that million dollar smile and said, "Doctor, we've arrived."

... to be continued

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

Here's my favorite conversation of the evening....

AlCantHang: "I used to spank it to you."
Julie McCollough: "Was that Growing Pains or Playboy?"
AlCantHang: "Both."

We survived our epic adaventure at the Playboy Mansion. No one got arrested, but Chad puked a few minutes ago. I won the prop bet with Boy Genius. I'll have some more updates soon, but nothing I can write can fully explain the experience of hitting the Mansion with some of my best friends and getting completely smashed.

Reports soon to follow from the Tao of Poker, Spaceman, Bobby Bracelet, Chad, BG, Joe Speaker, CJ, and... AlCantHang. Stay tuned.

Mucho thanks to Spaceman and Joy for hooking me up with the invite.

Three Hours Away...

The lovely Mrs. Spaceman sent me an email the other day that I'd like to share with you. Enjoy!

Yo Pauly!

I hope you guys have a blast at the Playboy mansion. I have given Jason permission to do anything he wants, as long as he stays out of the grotto (I don't want him traipsing through 25 years of cum stains. Ewww gross!) And if things get really kinky, make sure he (and you!) wears a condom, for god's sake. I don't want any bunny funk, if you know what I mean. But really, are the bunnies going to want anything to do with youse guys? Hell no - they're looking for some millionaire dickin'. But I bet there will be plenty of Hollywood wannabe socialite strumpet types looking for a good time. Hence the "wear a condom" comment.

I read on your blog that Change100 picked out your clothes. We went shopping last night, and since I have no fashion sense, we enlisted my friend Lydia to be Jason's personal stylist. And guess what outfit he ended up with? A nice shirt, sports jacket, and jeans. So I have to ask - just what is so wrong about that? Is it too casual, or is it too predictable, or is it too nice? I have no idea what "LA Chic" is, and I don't want Jason to look..um.. like a Tennessean. Regardless, we dropped some mad cash on this outfit, and I think he looks FINE, so fuck em if he looks out of place. What are you gonna wear?

Enjoy the fake boobies! And please make sure Jason has a good time... I know while you guys are having a once-in-a-lifetime evening, I'll be enjoying fantasizing about Jake Gyllenhaal's fine ass.

Take care!

Mrs. Spaceman

Strippers and Blow

Blonde Stripper: "Where are you from?"
Senor: "Rhode Island."
Blonde Stripper: "Awesome! I love New York."

Yes, it was one of those nights in Las Vegas, where everything you experience is blogworthy. To start, Senor flew in at 11am and Change100 and I picked him up at the airport. We checked into the Mirage and then Joe Speaker arrived soon after. We hung out at the bar near the sports book and watched the March Madness games. The place was super packed and full of gambling excitement. I had a blast with LSU. Not only did they cover, they beat Duke outright, which means that my team Strippers and Blow, has a shot at winning my pool!

Of course, I fucked up and took UCLA -4. Yeah, I don't wanna talk about it. Joe Speaker actually took them with the moneyline. The guy at the counter laughed at him when he cashed his ticket.

We ate dinner at Joe's Seafood and Steakhouse in Caesar's Palace forum shops with Flipchip, Grubby, and the Poker Prof. The filet mignon was excellent as well as the Jenny Potatoes.

After the meal, we headed to a strip club. I mean, that's what Grubby, Senor, and I do when we're in Vegas. Grubby drove and we took Change100 and Joe Speaker along. One of Grubby's friends is a dancer at Scores and we went to check it out. I've only been to the one in NYC. Strippers love Grubby and Senor loves Asian strippers.

"Holy shit, I'm going to a strip club with Dr. Pauly," Joe Speaker mentioned on our way to the Scores.

I have enough material for a new installment of Existentialist Conversations with Strippers. This one was named Nicki, and she was Vietnamese, Chinese, and Irish, What a combination! And she was from NYC. She dances at Scores there and she also flew into Vegas on Jetblue.

Nicki was smoking hot. Amazing ass. And I loved her hair.

"She has a crush on you," said Senor.

"I'm just a mark," I answered.

"Not this one. She's fallen for you."

Indeed, she did. She kept coming back. By the end of the night I must have paid for her flight from NYC to Las Vegas. The lapdances were average, but she was feisty and kept grabbing my nipples. I know that too much information to reveal, even on a blog, but I admit... I like have my nipples squeezed by hot strippers in Las Vegas at 1am. And she just didn't squeeze them, she molested them. I loved every second of it.

She gave Change 100 three lapdances. At one point, she was grabbing her breasts and pinching her nipples. They were all over each other. I admit, I got a chubby. Nothing beats girl on girl action. I love to watch.

"I can tell, you're a naughty one," Nicki said.

"Don't you know it," admitted Change100.

After it was over, I asked Change 100, "Were you making out with the stripper?"

She said no, but the look in her eyes said, "Yes."

Nicki was so good that I had to share her with the entire group, except for Grubby who was entertaining a dancer on his lap. They were talking about fashion. I paid for lap dances for Change100, Senor, and Joe Speaker. All of them had Nicki. I like to share.

She walked up to Joe Speaker and said, "I'm going to hurt you."

Joe Speaker turned to me and gave me a look like, "Holy fuck, what did you just get me into."

Afterwards, Joe Speaker jotted down some notes. I can't wait to read his post. After Nicki danced for Speaker, she headed over to Senor. She grabbed his belt and tied it around his neck, she used the end of it and was smacking him in the head.

"She was a rough one. We should invite her back to our room."

On our way out to the car, Joe Speaker said, "My God. I have not gotten a lapdance since 1986 at my first bachelor party! Twenty fuckin' years! And she had an amazing ass."

I realized that if I didn't gamble as much and didn't go to strip clubs, I would have paid off my school loan by now. Sure I'd be debt free, but I'd have nothing to write about.

Yes, there was no poker content in this post. I have yet to play a hand since I arrived in Vegas.

Editor's Note: This was crossposted to the Tao of Poker.

Please Don't Hate Me

"No, you can't come along." - Boy Genius

"The greatest cliche ever!" my buddy the Joker screamed into the phone when I told him about my invite to the Playboy Mansion on Saturday night. "I'm really curious about the Grotto. What's that all about? I get the concept of Heff putting on these parties with tons of hot chicks walking around. But are they lame? Please give me all the details. Oh, and are you gonna get high with Snoop Dogg? I'm glad I have a reporter on the ground embedded at the Mansion. I'm so proud of you. I can finally sleep at night knowing that you will be at the Mansion raising hell."

Yes, the rumors are true. I'll be heading to LA on Saturday to the Playboy Mansion with a group I'd like to call Pauly's 8 in homage to Ocean's 11... Spaceman, Bobby Bracelet, Chad, BG, Joe Speaker, CJ, and... AlCantHang. I'm still looking for an acrobatic Mandarin-speaking Chinese guy to fill the last spot on my crew. Oh and we need a wise cracking black guy for the zany one-liners. If you have any leads, shoot me an email.

A few weeks ago I turned down a free cruise to the Bahamas. The Poker Prof handed me a "gift assignment." And I declined. He was shocked and didn't know what to say. He ended up going himself and took lots of great photos. Make sure you read his trip report.

This past Sunday I found myself in another stressful situation. When Spaceman told me about the invite to the Mansion, I originally declined. I think he was shocked. It was bad timing... I'm here in Las Vegas to hang out with one of my best friends in the world... Senor. He's my Neal Cassady. He's my attorney. He's my Goose. He's my Carl. (Bonus points to you if you get all four references.)

Anyway, Senor works his ass off and hasn't had a vacation in a very long time. He lives in Rhode Island with his wife and 1.5 kids. He's got a second son due in July. We were both looking forward to our yearly trip to Las Vegas for March Madness. Gambling. Golf. Strip clubs. What could be better?

So when I found myself at a fork in the road... I was perplexed. Do I take the road that leads to the Playboy Mansion? Or do I spend time with my best friend? (Make sure you read this short story I worte called... Amanda Dick.)

I made the decision and declined the invite to Hugh Heffner's paradise. I'm a good friend. You want me in that foxhole with you. I'm the guy you wanna be stuck in an elevator with for three hours. You need me on the wall...

Slowly, my friends and my brother all took time out to tell me how stupid I was skipping out on an invite to the Mansion. My buddy Jerry called me "retarded." Derek questioned my sanity. When I got Senor on the phone he was concerned, "Dude, you skipped a cruise to the Bahamas and a now trip to the Playboy Mansion? Are you OK?"

He talked me into going. That's why he's a great friend.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," Senor said. "As a writer, you have to go."

He was right. The last thing I want to do is cover another charity poker tournament. I've done that and it sucks. But this one is different. So different that I needed to buy new clothes.

"What are you going to wear?" Change100 asked.

I mumbled something and she quickly disagreed with my choice.

"You have to go out and buy a nice outfit. This is not some hipster bar in the East Village you're going to. It's the Playboy Mansion. I dig your 'I'm a writer' look with jeans and a sports coat. But that's not going to cut it at the Mansion."

When she arrived in Las Vegas, she took me shopping. Two hours later I spent $400 on an outfit. $198 for a shirt. $148 for pants. $40 for a new belt. I haven't spent $400 on clothes in the last three years. I usually let Briana buy me clothes. I hate shopping. The concept horrifies me.

I discovered that Joe Speaker and CJ also bought new outfits. The spent about $400 too. That's $1,200 on new clothes since the dress code will be strictly enforced.

That's the skinny for now. Stay tuned for more details. In the meantime, I have to go win an extra $500 on March Madness game (I'm driving to LA and flying back to Vegas on Monday on JetBlue) just to cover expenses. UCLA is my team in the Sweet 16. If they cover against Gonzaga, my trendoid clothes are free.

Please don't hate me.

Editor's Note: This was cross posted to the Tao of Poker.

Almost in Vegas

On Monday I had a "To Do" list of about 20-25 things that I had to do before I left for Las Vegas. I cranked out about 10 of them last night and added 10 more. I did about half my list before Tuesday at Noon.

So what's on these lists you ask?

Some of the errands included going to the post office and doing laundry. The most important thing on the list is making sure I bring the right plugs and cords for my various electronic items like my laptop, two cameras, and my cell phone. In Barcelona, I had to get a UBS card reader and I luckily had a mall next door to my hotel. It was much cheaper in Spain than in the US. Packing for six weeks is no different from packing for six weeks. Lucky for me, where I'm staying in Las Vegas and LA, there's a washer and dryer.

I also had to answer my email. When I first had email, I used to write lengthy responses to the handful of people who sent me messages. It was cathartic for me, plus it was a great writing exercise. No one writes long letters anymore. It's been replaced by the coldness of two-line emails with plenty of "lol" and :).

Anyway, I have a few different email addresses and it takes almost 30 minutes every morning for me to look at all of them and pick out the important ones from the crap. I had almost 100 emails that I never answered and I took 2 hours to do all of that. And I still feel that I gave a few people just a few seconds of my time when they deserved more. Oh well. That's the hardest part these days... too much email. It's good and it's evil. The good news is that I got over 100 messages down to 4 in one account.

I also have a lost of people I owe phonecalls too. It seems the people you need to get in contact with the most are never around or in the middle of a vacation in Chile or at a business luncheon. I've got through 80% of my list.

I ate an Everything bagel yesterday. There's three main people who work that shop; an old white lady with a hair net, a young Cambodian girl, and a middle-aged ethnic guy from somewhere in Eastern Europe. I've been going to that place for years. The young girl and old lady know what I want by now. I rarely have a problem with them. I always cringe when the ethnic guy takes my order because he always fucks it up. They do a bad job buttering the bagels. Since they keep jacking up the prices, I want my fair share of butter. Anyway, I always have to ask for "extra butter" because they always skimp. Sadly, whenever ethnic guy butters my bagel, he barely gives me any. I ask for "extra" and he simply does not get it. Maybe I should try "double butter" or "extra extra butter."

I finished up a few writing assignments. I've been cranking stuff out the last few days. It seems since I got back to NYC, all I've done was write and watch basketball. I finally cranked out the latest issue of Truckin'. That project had been taking up a lot of my time. Just when one deadline is over, I have another one looming.

I watched The Soprano's on TiVo so now I'm all caught up. I appreciate it when writers take risks. And they did it in this episode. The beginning started out great and then it fizzled. The Sopranos still suck. I did like the Tibetan monks bitch slapping Tony. Oh well. I'm awaiting the new episode of Entourage. Johnny Drama baby....

I completed The Tipping Point. I read most of it on the subway on Monday. I started Arthur Nersesian's new book and I read the first 20 pages of Charles Bukowsi's Hollywood.

I cooked dinner for my brother last night. I cooked spicy sausage and cheese tortellini. I made the marinara sauce from scratch with extra garlic. Oh, and I made garlic bread with extra mozzarella cheese.

I just have to finish up last minute packing before I head to the airport for another cross-country flight. I've done the NYC-Las Vegas leg so many times that I think I can do it in my sleep. 5 hours on a plane used to bother me. Now I can do it without blinking.

Update...

10:10am... I arrived at the airport super early. My flight does not board for another hour or so. I had an incident of sorts to report. Last night while I was packing, I grabbed my press badge for the World Poker Tour which I keep with my passport in a drawer. Since I was going to be on the road for 6 weeks, I decided to take my passport with me. I usually take it with me whenever I travel because you never know when you might have to leave the country at the last minute. Being on the road for six weeks meant that it was a necessity. I'm glad I packed it because when I arrived at the airport, I could not find my driver's license anywhere. I used my passport to get past security and everything is fine for this trip as long as I don't drive... which is supposed to happen at the end of April when I get a rental car to cover the WPT Championships at the Bellagio. I was fixin' to stay with Grubby in Henderson and commute to work everyday. If I can't find my license, I might have to stay in a hotel near by! I'm 75% sure I know where it is... on my old dresser next to some business cards. I had taken out an old credit card last week and replaced it with my new JetBlue American Express Card. I must have also taken out my license at the same time. If it's not there... I have to go get a replacement when I get back to NYC in May. Yikes.

10:21am... Hot Asian chick with a book sat down next to me. She smells like peaches.

10:23am... In a moment of clarity, I realized where my license was! I had to photocopy it for a bill for proof of address. It's sitting in the tray of my printer/scanner. I'm such a retard. I'll ask Derek to mail it to me in Las Vegas/LA. Problem solved, for now.

10:50am... While on the shitter, I sent Bobby Bracelet a text message.

10:55am... I called Senor to tell him what a dumb ass I was for forgetting my license. He's flying into Vegas on Thursday morning via Providence. He suggested that we go to a strip club tomorrow night. He wants to play golf on Saturday, which I'll miss because I have to drive to LA. In case you are wondering, I'll just be a passenger since I'm totally inept and can't drive stick. So the missing license is moot anyway.

11:01am... A suit sat down next to me and checked his Americtrade account. That reminded me about a small windfall that unexpectedly came my way, part of my grandmother's estate that was liquidated this week. It's not much, but more than the $1700 I got last month. At least this check won't go to pay my taxes. I have three options...

1. Pay my school loan.
2. Open up a new IRA account.
3. Use the money for travel and blow it on hookers and Thai stick.

11:11am... I'm playing online poker at the airport. Man, am I a shill for Poker Stars or what?