May 30th, 2002


Freaky Friday

Something’s not quite right with me.

A friend’s bachelor party was awaiting me this past Friday. In Vegas. And to top it off, they somehow managed to book the high-roller penthouse suite at fricking Bellagio. Chuck asked me if I was going.

I said no.

What the hell just happened to me? I just turned down the opportunity to go to a bachelor party in Las Vegas.

Could it be that I’ve actually become tired of Vegas bachelor parties? Not possible. Like the bejeweled Faberge Eggs, each one is extraordinarily precious, unique, and filled with hot naked women. And yet, I had absolutely no desire to go whatsoever.

I thought about this for quite some time. Perhaps I was subconsciously telling myself to take it easy before my epic two-week return trip to China in June. Perhaps it's because I was hungover from my morning visit to the massive sensory overload known as E3, the videogame industry convention. Or perhaps it was because I just wanted to stay home and rent “Serendipity?”


Something’s not quite right with me.

That Saturday Incident

Went and saw “About A Boy.” Yeah, you bastards, the Hugh Grant movie.

There were three reasons why I saw it:

1. The movie got great reviews from pretty much every critic out there, which is impressive for any film that features Hugh Grant trying to look charming and awkward at the same time.

2. I have this thing for British comedies, whether it’s Monty Python, Benny Hill or “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” I like the fact that they pioneered puke jokes, used words like bollocks, and completely confused the hell out of Americans.

3. I actually went and checked out the movie’s Web site and discovered that the main character’s a commitment-phobic, soul-less bastard who likes Grey Goose vodka. Which is absolutely not like me at all. But in the strange event there was a slight character resemblance, I was curious to see it on film.

After the movie, later in the evening, an Incident occurred.

In the grand scheme of things, I didn't think the Incident was that serious. But in an amusing note, after it happened, I did end up making a random series of sharp quick turns through the dark streets of LA a la "Dukes of Hazzard" as a "precautionary measure."

I was sooo looking forward to writing about the Incident, since it’s not something that happens everyday in our safe, somewhat routine existence. (It's not that our friends' lives are tame; I'd give ourselves an "R" rating but only for harsh language.) It's one of those things, decades from now, that I can tell my imaginary grandkids as I sit by the fire in my underwear and samaurai helmet.

But I was specifically forced to swear to not write about the Incident online. Apparently it was felt that there was a small risk that doing so could end up leading to something bad, like a revenge killing or at the very least, really nasty swear words. I highly doubt it, but I made a promise – what can ya do?

So instead I thought I’d piss you all off by mentioning it, and then not telling you what happened.