What some people don't understand about my anger issues, and my penchant for physically trying to detach someones jaw from their goddamned body, is that said anger is only directed at people of the asshole persuasion. I said all of that to say that the biggest lesson that I have learned while on earth for the past 32 years is that it pays to be nice to people. Let me explain. I have said this before, but in High School I was popular by default, meaning that I was actually a nerd who was propelled into the stratosphere of popularity because I ran track, that simple. Even though I was accepted by the cool kids as one of their own, I always felt like a ghetto ass Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike 12, exposing my pocket protector and my love for foreign films. But I figured that while in High School(Or the "ball" to keep up with the Cinderella analogy) I would use my new found popularity for good and not evil. I made it my personal mission to cause physical pain to any "bully" that decided to harass someone that they considered a nerd, and one of the people that I helped was a dude named Bill.
Bill, for all intents and purposes was a bona fide nerd, but he was my friend. Anyway, he was going through the rough transition of losing his parents to a car accident and the everyday tragic monotony of being a High School student. One day this dude who was on my football team named Todd started bullying Bill, smacking him in the face and giving him a severe wedgie. I ran over, kicked Todd in the face(knocking a couple of teeth out), and gave him an even more severe wedgie in front of all his peers, telling him that if he resisted that I'd "break his fucking arm". After my week suspension from school was over and I returned to class, Bill gave me a heartfelt letter telling me that I was the only person that ever stuck up for him in his life and that he once contemplated suicide, but not now. My act of random violence assured him that there were cool people out there. I knew right there I had a friend for life, not only because of the way that I touched a classmate of mine, but because the entire year I acted as Bill's body guard protecting him from Todd's boys who wanted revenge.
I went into that lenghty introduction worthy of a "Lifetime Movie of the Week" simply to say that Bill, the nerd that I once protected, now runs a casino and hotel in Las Vegas. So, suffice it to say, he hasn't forgot about High School and has been "looking out" for me the past decade or so. Despite my shoddy history there, Bill has invited me to the place they nickname "City of Lost Wages" for a Christmas and New Years celebration that he says will be "one to remember". I want to go, I really do, but I feel like Joe Pesci's character in "Casino" because of the trouble I have caused my childhood friend whenever I have been in Sin City. So after reading about some of my actions in Las Vegas, I need your opinion whether I should go or stay my black ass in Virginia Beach Virginia.
Joe Dirt: A couple of years ago I had one of the best times in Vegas ever, my band had just played a fantastic gig where a few ladies had pumped my ego up tremendously, I was up 4 grand from just playing blackjack, like a masturbating massage therapist I was feeling myself. One of our last nights there we were drinking, a lot, and betting like there was no tomorrow. After the croupier had dealt me my cards and I was trying to figure out whether to play them or not, I look up and who do I see siting across from me but David Spade. OK, not exactly Brad Pitt on the "celebrities you should give a shit about" list, but recognizable nonetheless. Plus, this isn't a very popular opinion, but I think the movie that he did entitled "Joe Dirt" is funny as shit. So I said, "Man, I loved Joe Dirt. That shit was funny as fuck!" Even though I said it in the most sincere way that I could while drunk, trying not to come off as sarcastic, he said "Shut the fuck up asshole!" I sat there for about 20 seconds bewildered because usually I would be pounding someone for saying that by now, but I decided to let him make amends so I said, "No I'm being serious, that was a good movie" Then he looked at me, smirked, and said "Like I care what the fuck you think, ass-bag!" OK, it was official, this motherfucker was talking shit. So I calmly said, "How would you like it if all these people in the hotel witnessed Joe Dirt getting his ass handed to him motherfucker??" Immediately, I guess playing it incognito, two of his very big bodyguards come out of nowhere, prompting this SNL reject to boldly say, "I'll kick you ass, you want some of me???", while 2 very large black men about 6'5 280 pounds stood behind him.
So I put my cards down and started to make my way around the table, planning to take 2 of his bodyguards out, then making my way to Spade where I intended to break one of his puny limbs.(That was my plan, not saying that it could have happened.) Before I get to them Bill comes out of nowhere, along with a couple of his security guys, and tackle me in a fashion that would make Lawrence Taylor proud. As I look up and David Spade, along with his bodyguards are walking away, all the while Spade saying something like "He's Lucky, He's lucky!!" Even though by the time Bill and his crew let me up off the ground, Spade and company were still visible down a long hallway, prompting me to grab a glass off of the table and hurl it at them like I was a center fielder trying to make a play at home base. To my delight I actually ended up hitting him with it so I felt that I had accomplished something that night. After the situation ended me and Bill went back to his office, where we laughed for minutes after he said, "Dude, you almost beat Joe Dirt's ass!!!"
Mobb Deep: Even though gambling is obviously legal in Las Vegas, there are a lot of what people call "underground games", games that are pretty shady and usually you need a personal connection even to sit down at one of them. Well, Bill was my personal connect, so I attended one in a back room of a local business one hot Tuesday night. I sat at a table that I quickly named "the little U.N", because everyone who played there was of a different nationality and a different walk of life. The first few hands went horribly, me losing about 300 dollars within minutes, but my luck changed for the better for the rest of the night. I was definitely on a winning streak, bluffing the shit out of people while holding the crappiest hands possible, all the while talking more shit than a chatty proctologist. During one of the last hands of the night, a gentleman from New York had went "all in" on me, betting his entire stack trying to bluff me. I pushed all my chips in to match him, not because I was playing recklessly, but because I felt confident because I was holding a full house. When we revealed the cards I had won that hand, worth 2 thousand dollars, so obviously I was expecting to collect my money. But this motherfucker quickly grabbed his chips and said, "I'm not giving your black ass anything!!" Outraged, I grabbed him, prompting him to flash me his gun tucked ever so tightly in his belt, so I sat the fuck down still defiantly calling him a "bitch-made peasant"(I don't know why those particular words came out of my mouth)
Anyway, a day later I see this jackass in Bill's casino, so I decided to make a complete scene and irritate the fuck out of this wannabe mafioso. In a crowded casino, I ran up and put my arm around him and said, "Whoever can hear this, do not bet with this man, he is a piece of shit that won't pay his debt! Ain't that right you miserable motherfucker??" He pushed me off of him, but the whole night all I did was talk shit, even sitting at the tables that he bet at saying shit like, "I bet you'll pay your debt here, you dick-less inbred piece of shit" My alcohol level along with the outrage that I felt because of the 2 grand he owed me just made the immature ridicule I spewed in this man's direction unbearable. So unbearable that Bill had to take me outside and give me a stern warning, a warning that went exactly like this: "HumanityCritic, the guy you are bickering with is a Mob guy. I am surprised that he hasn't killed you by now, so chill the fuck out. If my previous two sentences somehow get lost in translation in that dreadlocked head of yours then maybe this will make my point crystal clear, there are bodies in the desert that that guy is responsible for." I looked at him, smiled, and said "What's 2 grand anyways??"
Screaming like a bitch: Bill was kind enough to invite me and my friends to some celebrity shin-dig a while back, so because the fact that he mentioned the possibility of Rosario Dawson being there I quickly accepted. We get to Vegas and attend said party and it was off the hook, no Rosario though, but enough celebrities and high class prostitutes to make a prick like me extremely happy. Emilio Estevez isn't the celebrity he once was, but I got absolute joy when some random drunk asshole was giving him shit and I stepped in, put my fists up, and told the asshole "I'll make you famous motherfucker!!"(like Estevez' character says in "Young Guns", minus the "motherfucker" part) Anyway, I meet some extremely beautiful women who say that they want to "party" with me and my crew. I told them that the term "party" is a codeword for "vaginal entrance for currency" and that we weren't into paying for any prostitutes. They assured us that they weren't hookers, so we went back to my hotel suite and played cards with these beautiful women, with images of me putting on three condoms and spraying her with disinfectant later. We were all pretty liquored up, so for some reason one of the women asked me what name I had given my penis, saying in a very stripper-like voice "What do you call the little guy?" Smirking at her for calling it little when she hadn't had any proof of that, even though she was correct, I thought for a minute for my answer. The answer I gave has to be the corniest thing I have ever said to a person of the opposite sex, so corny that I wouldn't blame any man, woman, or child who decided to stop reading this blog because of said idiocy. OK, I said: "I nicknamed my penis "Dictionary". She asked "Why?", prompting me to say, "Because nothing I would like more than to put words in your mouth!!"(see, corny)
She giggled and said, "Well, that will be extra if you want that!" "Extra?", I said, "You girls said that you weren't prostitutes!!" She said, "You guys knew we were working girls, don't front. Plus, why other would four beautiful women be hanging out with you jackasses anyway?"(The woman had a point) I told them that we weren't paying a fucking thing and that they should leave immediately, which prompted her to call up two extremely huge gentleman in black suits. I guess these guys were their corporate looking pimps, but these dudes looked like they meant business. I figured they had guns as well, not because I saw a gun or anything, but because they said "We've got guns" Like going down on my college girlfriend who was a feminist and didn't believe in shaving, it was a pretty hairy situation to say the least. Before I could even figure out if I should just pay the money or even fight these guys, my boys opened up the window and started to scream for help like the hotel was on fire. All you could hear were these masculine shrieks of horror coming from 3 grown men, "Help! Help! They're going to kill us!!!" I looked at the two men and they were uncomfortable, uncomfortable to the point that they started inching for the door, so I decided to scream with my friends since it seemed to be working, "Help!! Help!! Somebody Please, for the love of god and everything that's holy, somebody save me!!".(Not one of my finest moments) The guys left and it was only us and a few of the girls remaining, inducing one of them to say, "You guys are a bunch of bitches!" So I said, "We ARE bitches, but we are bitches that aren't going to pay you 500 dollars for a game of cards and a whore-level conversation", as I gently mushed her out of the door with the bottom of my shell-toe Adidas.