Always Time for Adventure

Sitting outside the apartment in The rental car I just took Casey to get we are flipping coins to see if I would to with him. I didn't really have anything else planned for the next few days but I still had friends I hadn't seen and I was hoping to catch up during my last few days in Los Angeles. The quarters directed me to stay but casey wouldn't let it go. A push over for adventure I guess cause all he really had to do was pull that card. Fate be damned I ran inside and put a bag together. Before I knew it we were halfway there and making good time. Marijuana and booze did theirr part in helping pass the time.
Now, vegas is vegas and I just wrote a blog about all that so I will skip around a bit. Casey is a performer in wintuk, a seasonal Cirque Du Soliel show at Madison Square Garden, which it would seem, puts him in contact with other performer in other shows. So that isnwho we wound up partying with. Same same. One little difference I will note and would highly suggest to sports fans is our trip to ESPN Zone at New York New York. That shot is a pretty amazng place to watch a game. One huge media wall and an LCD at your booth. Might just rivalnactually being atthe game except at the Zone you have a whole table, food, a server, and access to just about any other sporting event at the time. The Laker game turned oi to be a nail bitter and went for two over times. So we finished up in the super comfy recliners in the front row, amazing. Even though purple
And gold took a hit.
Early departure was the planpn exit. I still wanted sometime to party in Los Angles before I fly out. We were up and out by ten. Only problem was at the state line they had closed the 15 and were forcing us to hang at the casinos till two. Fuck that! A shady plot to create revenue in my opinion and I wanted no part of that business. Luckily niether did casey so we started adventure style barging through the desert to find our way around.
It is just now two and we are back on the fifteen well beyond the state line. The lost little romp through nowhere was a nice change of pace. So times it is good to get away and sometimes it is even better to get really far away. Away from it all. Your view will be clearer when you return. Thank heavens for adventure.

Only in LA

 A few years ago i was in a club in Santa Monica called Circle Bar.  This was way back when i didn't drink, though i have always loved to dance.  Well at the top of the dance floor was this large semi-circular booth that served as the VIP for the place.  On the night in discussion that booth was filled to capacity with hot chicks.  Not really wanting to question the why I settled for the "how".  As in "how can i be down".  So slowly my friend and I worked our way into the good graces of these ladies and the few geeks that accompanied them.  Before we knew it we were in the mix surrounded by hotness on all sides.  Including on the table right in front of us.  It was a dance revolution and we were leading the charge.  Just when you thought things couldn't get any better the record skipped not literally of course, I think the DJ in that joint was using CD's.  Although the song he was playing set up the pins that were about to be knocked down. It was Lynyrd Skynard's Sweet Home Alabama that sent everyone into a sort of rock mosh movement that connected the entire dance floor and some surrounding tables in a undulating mass motion that had the appearance of water sloshed around in a container.  It was somewhere in the middle of the song and at the apex of the rapid furry inspired by such a well know and well like master piece that my big mouth came falling open with a few random factoids about the driving force of our spirited union.  

See the song was written as a retaliation to the searing words of the Neil Young song "Southern Man".  The tune, at the time, must have really fire up Ronnie VanSant, the now deceased lead singer of Lynyrd Skynard.  I actually like both artists and I was simply commenting on the fact that it was funny how popular that song had become and how that must have fueled the fire to the conflict.  Truer words I suppose cause just that simple remark uttered in some sort of half witted attempt to win favor in the eyes of the beautiful women around me sure as shit sent fire through some ones eyes.  That some one being the guy whose VIP booth we were currently so happily residing in.  They flashed red and his lips split with all sorts of venom spewing about the rag tag bunch of rednecks that called themselves Lynyrd Skynard.  On another side note, which I hope doesn't offend yet again.  Those rag tag rednecks named their band after their high school gym teacher of the same name, different spelling.  See ole Mr. Skinnard let them know constantly that they would never amount to anything.  Guess the joke was on him.  Could you imagine having to live with that.  He must have heard his name over the radio for the remainder of his existence.  A constant reminder of his close minded folly. 

Well, as it turns out our irate host had also been at the short end of the Skynard stick.   Never would I have guessed the reason this dude was in the VIP surrounded by the best looking girls in the bar was because he was in fact the son of the man under discussion, Neil Young.  Needless to say, we didn't last much longer in the VIP.

Now, many years later I find myself in a very similar situation.  Only this time the famed figures involved are of much more present influence.  In fact you would never guess it would be possible to run into this person randomly in a public place.  At least I didn't.

Unfortunately after the mess that was made last night a compromise was reached.  I would still write about it, though out of respect(for my friend not the pissy little brat), I wouldn't name names.  So if you are still interested stick around and see what you make of the debacle.

Just after ten my brother and I rolled into Medusa Lounge.  I had never been there before but was quite pleased with the decor and over all mood of the place.  It was beautifully lit with stone pillars dividing the seating areas and stained glass on the walls.  The friends we were meeting had already settled into a table and greeted us with smiles, hugs, and hand shakes.  There were two guys and two girls there that I didn't know but introductions were made and the good times carried on.  of the two women one stood to shake my hand while the other barely glanced at me as the dead fish was delivered.  Funny how much is said without speaking. I sat next to the more friendly of the girls as we ate our sweet potato fries.  As it turns out these young ladies were good friends and had been working together traveling the country for the past year.  They joked about just how close they had become and how friendly they really were.  Jokes, how often they simply represent a thin vail for the truth.  Interested i was.  Things were going well and after some frisky little silliness the comfort level improved.  now it was only a few of us still sitting at the table.  The others had wondered off to find conversation of their own while we were left to ours.  Looking it seems more like a set up than anything.  Little miss dead fish priss was not only a princess but a drama queen.  The royal blood that pulsed through her veins needed attention and she was about to grab it, form everyone.

Now, much like our previous tale hot stuff was of famous decent.  Only much much more famous.  As in the prior recollection I was clueless as to who we were in the company of and actually had to google a picture of her later to be convinced.  The difference, however, is in the fact that the spark didn't come by way of a randomly played song.  The fuse was lit by little bit herself.  Hell she even fanned the flame, and when it didn't burn fast enough she went ahead and blew up.  Leaving  my brother and I questioning what had happened to cause such a explosion.

As news of the explosion spread our mutual friend came to fill us in on the details we had not previously been made aware of.  Still it the reaction seemed a bit much.  not wanting to let a spoiled little pre madonna ruin my evening I went on enjoying the atmosphere of the club.  I even took a quick stroll on the dance floor which was in a separate room with it's own DJ.  After the tour i went outside to get Jeremiah who was smoking on the sidewalk.  As i came through the heavy wood door decorated with mideval metal adornments I catch a glimpse of Rick Ray, a friend of mine that i hadn't seen since about the same point in my life as the previous story occurred.  We chatted frequently online and had actually just spoken on facebook earlier that day, weird.  As i walked over to greet he and his friends a well dressed asian man came bolting through the door spewing vomit onto the sidewalk.  not relevant but funny none the less.  What was even funnier was as the rest of his cohorts were departing in their fine threads, one sexy little stick figure of a woman nearly did a backflip as she slipped in her four inch stilettos on the water that was poured on the sidewalk to wash away the disgusting stomach contents that had been forcibly placed there.   She was very good hearted about the accident and even laughed as she questioned me as to whether or not i documented the event.  I wish.

Soon after we wrapped our convo up and took it back inside where unbeknownst to me the drama was still unfolding.  This was not my idea of a good time.  Nor was it Jeremiah's.  So he left and went of to the corner store to buy a soda.  I, like and idiot, stayed.  I was finishing what i had started with Rick outside when this little doosie of a dilemma found me once again.  "Don't blog about her, don't post photos of her....don't don't don't".  Funny how who I am and what i do was the first thing we talked about and no one had a problem with that until little miss britches went and made and ass of herself.  No wonder people talk so much shit.  The truth is i think she likes it.  Why else would she have whipped up such a club wide frenzy while everyone else is trying to ignore it.  So, again, i was forced to play her little game.  

Now i have been through alot of shit in my life so I have little sympathy for silver spoon spectacles looking for a pity party.  Throw it, fine.  Just don't expect me to attend.  Still for some reason declining the invite didn't seem to be an option.  In fact patrons of her little soiree were coming out of the woodwork.  One of the guys i had been introduced to early vehemently defended his wind bag of a host to me.  Not sure what he was looking to accomplished but had it not been for our mutual friend whom I respect it would have landed my fist in his big ass mouth.  That i realize now wouldn't have been the right thing to do either.  I go out to have a few drinks and a good time as a result.  Fighting should be left to the UFC.  Where I came from was a dark dark place.  I Have since evolved as a person but this silly son of a bitch wanted a trip back down memory lane and that is nowhere I would willingly travel.  So instead i took a breath turned my back and went back to my conversation where he had so rudely interrupted.  That didn't last long however.  The unused adrenaline killed what ever buzz my buddy Jack had created and played devils advocate to the underlying desire to joke out Henry the hero who still stood only steps away.  It was time to leave.  The night was done.  Our good time was damaged beyond repair.  Best to cut our losses and return to action under better circumstances and with better company.   From experience i now that the odds our in our favor.  The good times are abundant for those who know how to find them and the bad are simply speed bumps on the way.  For darling kill joy, on the other hand, she is only perpetuating here decent into misery by hanging onto pain in the past.  Best to move on sweetheart, you lost the election.  Don't loose your happiness as a result.

When You Gotta Go

As a man the world is your restroom.  you can just flop your junk out anywhere and relieve yourself on the spot.  You can pee standing up and thanks to the genius who engineered the fly there is very little exposure while doing so.  No pun intended, well maybe a little... see, a little, te he.  Daylight or dark if you gotta go you can always find a tree or bush or alley.  Hell, I have even peed in the potting soil of a plant next to the couch in a crowded bar where I was drinking. Sometimes you just can't be bothered to take that extra step for the privacy of the bathroom, or even one step in that case.  I just sort of rolled over on the couch and aimed at the first thing i saw.  Being a woman, on the other hand, presents a bit more of a problem.  Female plumbing, for those of you who haven't had personal experience, isn't just hanging out there like a fire hose.  It is tucked neatly, in most cases (meat curtains excluded), between the legs.  The targeting system isn't nearly as accurate and would most likely send urine running down both legs if pee pee were attempted while erect (men sometimes have problems while erect as well but i am pretty sure the difference in "erect" is understood).  So that means women have to squat and they have to do so directly over the little puddle that forms when emptying ones bladder.   Now i have seen public female urination  performed may times and in many varying locations.  The most spectacular of these was off a rock beside a a creek in Yosemite.  That shit was unbelievable.  Piss isn't generally something i am into, alright maybe a little into it,  but watching this girl blast a perfect stream of tinkle skyward and into that crystal clear mountain stream got me more than slightly chubby.  In just about all my previous eye witness accounts the vagina was only able to produce a random spray that legs, feet, and anything else wishing to stay dry had to give a wide berth.  Well not pro pee on the river.  That girl honestly just leaned back and fired a rainbow arching stream beautifully into that chili snow melt.  Granted most girls either don't posses that amazing skill or just have never had to pee so bad that their tinkle time could rival that of a mans.  So, on our present trip to the beach Jaime must have just been mildly inconvenienced by the product of our afternoon drinking.  

After a light lunch and a cold beer we had all strolled out to the sand at Venice Beach.  It was a beautiful warm sunny day and people were speckled here and there starting at the top of the dunes all the way down to the water.  We laid Gabe's blanket out at the bottom slope of the dune.  Right below a hippie guitarist who strummed and sang high atop for all to appreciate.  We just hung out listening to our own music and pretended our acoustic artist was performing it solely for us.  Those cheap laughs entertained for a bit but when Jaime started complaining that she had to pee our attention shifted to the prospect of female public urination on the open expanses of sand that stretched out in all directions.  At first i figured she was just bullshitting as she started work on her make shift booty bowl.  I challenged her poker face but as it turns out she wasn't exactly playing with a full deck....or just an uncomfortably full pee pocket.  I continued to document the event (more photos available at www.haneyland.com) thinking she would surely back down.  Nope, she pulled down her pants turned and placed her bare bottom on this makeshift port-o-pottie.  She pulled the beach blanket around her back to prevent further exposure and finally relieved herself right there on the sun drenched sand for all to see.  I am not sure that anyone other than the few involved even noticed but the mountain musician certainly quit playing during the event.  Still, Jaime seemed pleased with herself.  I wonder if the ass full of sand she received for her trouble was worth forgoing a short walk to a nearby restroom.  Either way it was a proud accomplishment in my humble opinion.  It doesn't top the stream stream but it easily makes my top five all time female tinkles. 

Vegas Baby, VEGAS!!!!

Vegas, what a wonderful place.  The ultimate adult playground and only a few hours drive from Los Angeles. nearly impossible to avoid the gravitational pull when you are that close.  So at 8:30am on a Saturday morning a car full of us found ourselves caught in the tractor beam.  Being pulled by forces beyond our control to the epicenter of fun in the universe.  Just about anything you could imagine getting a thrill from is readily available.  No matter how many times i have been the prospect of arrival in this sin wonderland always excites me.  Vegas baby, Vegas! Just the fact that you can roll through the streets escorted by a huge bottle of Jack Daniels and no one bats an eye is enough to plaster your face with joy.  Aside form senior Daniels as the stand by our arsenal also included a healthy dose of fungus, herbal medication, the benjamins, and the Jefferson to keep all them company.  Movin' on up in deed.  Once everyone was comfortable we had a snack and hit the sack.  Vegas is for vampires.  The sun is just an inconvenient destroyer of the wonderful illusions created under the nights bright lights.  So till that bastard is put to rest we all catch up on ours.

Night returns life to our eyes as Jeremiah, my brother, reports back to our room with three hundred plus in winnings.  Things were looking up, but they always do this early.  Jeremiah has crazy luck or some sort of sick gambling intuition cause this is a repeating cycle for him.  By the time we made it to dinner he was up over five hundred, bastard.  The down side to all that is that drinking seems to cloud his judgement for some reason, go figure.  Case by case though.  At the very least he has a blast playing and it keeps his normally cranky ass is high spirits.  That only adds to the jubilation of the group, which at this point is made up of him, his girlfriend Nadia, Brian, Azat, and myself.  Our rooms are in the pyramid in the Luxor and the porn convention awards ceremony is going on next door at the Mandalay Bay where our friend Casey and a whole crew of Cirque du Soliel performers are staying.  We band up and head over to meet them for dinner.  The connecting corridor is line with adult film flesh barely crammed into some of the sexist form fitting formal wear on the planet.  Mmmmm, Vegas baby, Vegas!!!   Jeremiah buys a new shirt to insure our entrance into where ever it is we finally land while I cop some shades to spice up the outfit and protect my eyes from the inevitable rising up the morning sun.  As for dinner we settle on China Cafe.  It was empty at the time but they asured us that they had only one table they could part with.  Not believing them we opted to stay and assume the cirque guys would still be able to stay.  As it turns out they all got turned away at the door and went to find food elsewhere.  I tried to find them after a text from Casey clued me into the issues they were facing.  Once i got to the door, however,  it was too late.  Although, as chance would have it, i exited the restaurant just in time to run into, to my knowledge, my only porn friend Chanel.  Maybe you now her.  My acquaintance with her began while i was working for Girls Gone Wild.  Long before she was in film and most likely the employment choice that paved the way to her current career.  That is neither here nor there and certainly the subject for another blog entirely all together.  At our current meeting , however, we simply caught up for a bit and exchanged number.  She told me about the after party and went on her way.  i wonder if she was up for any awards?

Mean while back at dinner the food was showing up in courses to all of our delight.  i won't go into the delicious details of just how marvelous the meal was but trust that if you are ever in Mandalay Bay with the money to blow.  The chef sampler special deal is fricken out of this world.  I didn't have wine with the meal but i would recommend some marijuana.  It complimented the bounty beautifully.  By this time the options for night life were staggering and with the sheer number of people involved making a final decision was damn near impossible.  So we hoped around a bit sampling the world class party buffet that Vegas provides when just after midnight we all settled on Tryste at Wynn.  It was supposed to be the new hot shit and none of us had been there before, perfect.  It indeed did not disappoint.  It was paced wall to wall with over dressed ass grinding out their heart delight to the newest club hit remixes.  it was a semi circle set up that centered around a huge pool with a five story water fall that blasted cool breezes onto the huge central dance floor.  There was a seperate smaller elevated floor to the right that had a strip poll that attracted the tourist as they lived out every midwest fantasy of just what a wild vegas night was supposed to be.  Some good, some bad, and some really fricken bad but all entertaining.  We had bottle service at a table to the right with a huge window view of the massive water fall as a backdrop to the debauchery.  We were also lucky enough to have a go go dance box at the back of one of our seats so the nights entertainment was none stop.  Somewhere along the way my phone died and therefore radio contact with the other members of our disconnected was lost completely.  Just one less thing to worry about as far as i was concerned and the dance floor was calling like siren song.  The chaos from this point becomes a little hard to catalog which is why i generally take a shit ton of photos, which i did.  But the big disappointment is still to come.  As the night stretches on and the bottles empty into our minds the details grow hazy, like floating through a dream.  Until finally all there is is dark.

The next morning i woke back in the room with a grumbling belly still dealing with the previous evenings vodka and no recollection of how things ended.  My roommates helped me fill in the blanks a little bit but i wasn't satisfied with the details available so i went looking for the fail safe, my camera.  Nowhere to be found.  This isn't an entirely new scenario since two of the last three times in vegas have ended with the same results.  Vegas baby....Vegas.  Seems that you are bound to loose one way or another.  Just another sacrifice to the alter of temptation is how i write it off.  I want bore you with any of the shadily detailed stories but i supposed i could sum up what i was told.  i rolled around in extremely expensive courtyard flowers of the Wynn, climbed the statues out front with a few equally intoxicated females from the club. chatted up the cabby with requests for pot and threats of applying my penis to various part of the car as well as attempting to climb out the window going down the strip.  Then once back to the hotel I cupped random boobs, slapped random ass, and made a general fool out of myself. Curtains.  Non sense in crying over pilled milk though. i had a marvelous time as always.  I think you just have to now what to expect, and that is that you have no idea what to expect.  The city is a gamble and just like gambling, some times you loose...and sometimes you loose.  expect that and you will be fine regardless of what shape you leave in.  Just to be on the safe side and illustrate my point further as we were leaving i dropped all the money in my wallet, 185 bucks, on black.  Round and round spun the roulette wheel.  Focusing i thought positive thoughts.  Jeremiah too added a few hundred.  Still spinning the little white ball held our fates.  Momentum began to slow and the orb started to bounce chaotically about the metal ridges dividing up the the 38 slots available, half red half black.  Unless of course you are counting green but who counts green.  Green is the red headed step child of the roulette wheel.  It only has two measly spots, zero and double zero.  Nobody cares about green or zero.  Well that should, cause that is sure as shit where that little bastard of a ball came to rest.  Right in the lap of nobody cares.  So stand up and tae notice of the red headed step child, cause he is here to stay.  Vegas ba-by........vegas.....

New Year New You

Here we are a few weeks into the new year. The hang over is gone. The STD and pregnancy tests have come back negative. The dust has finally settled after the big fandango and life is back to usual, but why?

The passing from one year to the next should be more than another excuse to cut loose and drink your guts out. It should and could stand as a threshold, a door into a new time, a new you. Well this year I am doing just that, taking it seriuosly. For the last few years I have been coasting through life on a heavy train with biscuit wheels. Ambitionless, aside from the drive to get more ass or more wasted. I don't regret this time. Hell, it has been two wonderful years. Times I will always remember. I have made friends I will always cherish. I have been with women who touched all parts of me, including my heart. I regret none of this and that is the point. It is time to let the old me finally burn down to ash. Now, instead of, this year, throwing more fuel on the same fire I am letting that Daniel go and see what rises from the remains. This year isn't a dog or a rat or even a dragon. It is a Phoenix. I am taking it seriously and I hope to inspire others to do the same. This year I am back to work.

That work started with a choice and a set of resolutions that I honestly plan on following. I have tried to keep it simple. That way it will be easy for my distractable mind to stay on point. With this new destination in mind and A new me I am hoping to build I invite you all along. To grow and change with me or to grow and distance yourself from me. Either I will readily accept so long as it is growth and not bitterness. Iit isn't the destination that is important but the journey at hand. I am just happy to have been in your company at some point on the trip. Good luck and best wishes to you all in the new year. I love you all and believe firmly that we are all part of one another and from this point forward we are all irrevocablly tied to one another through the contact we have shared. No matter how large or small thank you for your contribution.