Las Vegas Survival Guide: Life Lessons I Learned in Vegas

For a time in college, people thought my middle name was ‘Vegas’ – Kevin Vegas Leu. That’s how synonymous I was to Sin City. (Although, for a time, people also thought my middle name was ‘Douchebag,’ but that’s another story.) Going to college in San Diego, a short 4 hour drive to Las Vegas, I always found a reason to take a little road trip: whether it be female issues (that time of month), or receiving my tuition check, or when finals were coming up and everyone was studying but me. Nothing could make me happier than some BJs! That’s Black Jack for the layman – not to be confused with BlowJobs, although both leave you deflated and wanting more.

In my lifetime, I would estimate I’ve been to Vegas 30 times, only 4 minutes of which I was sober. And in those many, many trips, I’ve learned some important lessons on love, life, money, alcoholic intake capacity, projectile vomiting, syphilis, herpes, and gonorrhea. In order to establish some street cred with you young tykes before I go into the rules of survival, let me give you a quick rundown of some of my lifetime Vegas highlights and lowlights.

- I once got kicked out of Pure Nightclub at Ceasar’s Las Vegas for peeing into a trash can in full view of other club patrons.

They give you a stamp so you can’t get back in. Since none of my friends knew I had been kicked out (or would’ve cared), and I had nothing else to do, I washed furiously in the bathroom until all the skin was almost removed from my hand. And... I got back in …… only to be kicked back out minutes later for falling off my chair.

- I once hopped into a go-go cage with a dancer at the top of Rio … only to be kicked out.

I swear that dancer wanted me. Don’t worry, I got his number later.


- I once played a $100 minimum table at The Playboy Club at the Palms with only $100 in my pocket, expecting to play only one hand.

I proceeded to win 10 straight hands with increasing bets and increasing Patron shots. I fell off my chair at some point and was kicked out... But not before I had $1500 in my pocket!

- I once told a stripper I didn’t want the lap dance my friend had bought me and I wanted to know more about her and her life aspirations.

Let’s just say ended the night with her real name and phone number.

- I once (actually twice), played anal ring toss – where a girl puts a stick in her you-know-what and you throw rings at the stick (bachelor party, don't ask).

I blacked out, and for some reason, my butt really hurt in the morning.


- I once cussed at a 6’10’ former NBA basketball player and asked him what the heck he was doing sitting at my table.

Then I went in the bathroom and threw up.

- I once believed that girls on the street at 5am who were talking dirty to me, did it because I had mad game.

I asked her, "what's up?" And she answered, she was "horny." Then I remembered prostitutes were legal in Las Vegas.

- I once woke up and found two of my heterosexual male friends spooning.

Still my favorite pic....


- I once had to go to the hospital at 6am to pick up my friend who had been ambulanced out of a club.

She has not been back to Vegas since.


Well, I could go on and on, but frankly, this is not a novel.

Here are the rules of survival that you must always, ALWAYS remember:

RULE #1 – Always go home with the first, semi-decent, willing girl you meet.

- I can’t tell you how many times guys I know regret not going home with that first girl because it was too early in the night, or they thought someone better would come along. Newsflash: the girls later in the night are there because they have cockblocking friends. I repeat: cockblocking. Also, if they are leftover, there’s a reason that no one else has tried to take them home. If your purpose in Vegas is to hookup, take the first willing girl home. (For me, I like to ride in the elevators and jump when they hit the top floor. It’s fun – you should try it.)

RULE #2 – Don’t get obliterated when you first get there.

- I know it’s tempting because everyone (annoyingly) counts down their trip to Vegas, starting at 30 days. Facebook trailer trash Status Update: “OMG! 29 days to Vegas. Can’t Wait!!!!!” When you get there, you’re so amped up, you get smashed before you even leave the room and you’re a sloppy, disgusting, slurring mess. Take your time. Unlike other places in the U.S. – Vegas doesn’t close. You have plenty of time. Plus, if you’re trying to take home a drunk, sloppy, disgusting, female mess, you’re going to need some of your senses to make your way home.


Everything else isn’t that serious. It’s Vegas! Here’s some do’s and don’t.

Do buy gallons of water for the hotel room.

Don’t wear that stupid Ed Hardy shirt (think about how stupid you looked in Cross Colors).

Do eat late night food to prevent the hangover (either 1.99 steak and eggs, Fatburger, In-N-Out, or McDonald’s at the Palms).

Don’t EVER buy a drink for a girl who asks you to.

Do talk to that girl in the elevator (what have you got to lose?).

Don’t wear black (every douchebag in the club is wearing black).

Don’t do drugs……. Haha, just kidding! Do them all!

End list.


I don’t have all the answers in life, but I know that Vegas has taught me that you always need a little bit of luck on your side. You make the most of the opportunities that are given to you and you regret all the moments you don’t seize.

Like the great Robin Williams said: Carpe Diem!

Sincerely,
Kevin Vegas (not Douchbag) Leu

What Time Do Bars, Pubs, Clubs Close Around the World?

I'm not much for being a country-basher, but I feel very strongly about this particular topic. Why must our bars and clubs close at 2am!??!?! Is this not outlandish, coming from a country who touts its freedoms and democracy? Not only are we subject to the least amount of vacation days in the industrialized world, but we also must face caps on the time we are allowed to enjoy ourselves!

To get you started and riled up to join the Extended Drunk Hours to do Stupid Stuff Movement (and to get me placed on an FBI watch list), take a look at the vacation days granted to people in other countries:

Denmark: 31 days
Austria: 30
Finland: 30
France: 25
Norway: 25
Germany: 24
Brazil: 22
Belgium: 20
Ireleand: 20
United Kingdom: 20
Netherlands: 20
Switzerland: 20
Australia: 20
Colombia: 15
New Zealand: 15
United States: 10

Those countries seem to be doing just fine. Heck, InBev, a Brazilian beer company, just bought Anheuser-Busch! That extra 12 days of vacation must have really helped their beer consumption and revenue.... You see the circle of life here? If only we had had 12 extra days, we may have outdrank them and saved our American beer company, but the FOOLS in congress made us work AND go home at earlier hours! Now Budweiser is a Brazilian beer - happy?

Let us now continue with the hours of closure for alcohol serving establishments around the world. While hours may vary in countries depending on cities and residential areas, below is a non-scientific list. It's also worth noting that when I say a bar 'never' closes, that means they close when the bars die down, meaning anywhere from 5 to 8am, but can stay open for as long as they choose.

United States: 2am (with the exception of a few places like Vegas, NYC, Miami, etc.)
Mexico: Never
Canada: 2am
Brazil: Never
Argentina: Never
United Kingdom: 11pm (pubs), 5am (clubs)
Australia: 5am
Italy: Never
Russia: Never
Belgium: Never
Dominican Republic: 2am
Norway: 3am
Vietnam: Midnight
India: 2am
China: Never
Afghanistan: Midnight
Iraq: No bars
Chile: Never
Thailand: Never

Really!?!? We're about as "free" as India and the United Kingdom?!?!? We might as well have a King and Queen, stop fixing our teeth, and start playing cricket as well!

There are two ways to think about this extension of alcohol-serving operating hours: 1. The extension would lead to more havoc, chaos, and criminal activity from drunkards. 2. The liberation of our freedoms and rights to truly honor our Founding Fathers would lead to a crush of economic opportunity that would bring this country out of a recession.

I don't know about you, but I'm all for #2!

The other day, I went to Union Street Fair in San Francisco and started drinking in the daytime. I felt no rush to get drunk. I was paced, calm, and genuinely tired, but having fun. The lack of a deadline to stop drinking kept me from going off the charts, like I might normally do when going out at 11pm. When faced with only 2 hours of drinking time (before last call), people binge drink in mass quantities - thus taking shots (a very U.S. thing to do) - and "blacking out" more frequently than someone who knows they have all night and the morning, if they choose.



Let's think about this - a country that is synonomous with hooligan activity (U.K.) shuts their doors at 11pm. Logically, people are pounding drinks because they know they have an impending deadline. Then they wreak havoc because they don't want to go to bed yet in a "free" country. When you do have the option to party all night, you're too tired after the clubs to get into fights, loiter, smash windows, and tip over cars. You just want to go get some food (economic activity: restaurants!) and then go home (taxi drivers! prostitutes!) and sleep.

Maybe, JUST maybe if we didn't have limitations on our bars and clubs, we could've saved our beer company...... It's still not too late to save our economy. Please, join my cause and write to the President. Tell him that Iraq, Afghanistan, North Korea, Somali Pirates, the Auto Industry, the Banking Industry, Michelle, Malia, and Natasha can wait - our economy is in need of a boost - and Viagra just won't cut it this time...

Sincerely,
Kevin
The Silicon Valley Bachelor

P.S. Please let me know what time your country's bars/pubs/clubs close and I will update the list.

Art in the Parc: Margaret Timbrell - America's own Frida Kahlo!

My friend Margaret is one of my favorite peeps in the whole wide world! Although I don't know her that well, I figure it's a good thing, since she can only go downhill from here! Margaret is a painter who has dealt with some extenuating, horrific situations in her life. One of them being her friendship to me... which has led her to paint with the thoughts of death, destruction, pain, and disgust.

I recently commissioned her to do a piece for my living room, which had housed an empty, blank white wall for the last two years. I'd been looking for just the right piece that would spell out to the ladies: "hey, I'm not just a Swanson's Hungry-Man-TV-dinner-eating-kind-of-guy, but I also enjoy a fine glass of Charles Shaw and can spell the word 'art'."

Below is the beautiful piece that Margaret painted for me, that I have classically titled: Death and Boobies.



On a serious note, Margaret did face a life-altering accident when she was, not only hit by a truck (a la Frida Kahlo), but also run over as well. She had over 25 broken ribs that gave her a tremendous sense of mortality. As quoted in this San Francisco Examiner article titled, "Accident Leads to Provocative Art", Timbrell says:

"I maybe think about death more than other people," she says. "It’s kind of simplistic, but I frequently feel like I ought to be dead. My accident should have killed me, but I was extremely lucky and yet despite my good luck, one day I will die. There are things that I need to complete before then."

If Margaret is a grim person, she hides it well beneath her physical beauty and infectious laughter. Quick to smile, she has a witty outlook that belies her deep complexities - complexities which add a range of emotions to her layered art work.

I'm no art critic, but I enjoy Margaret's work. I frequently like to entertain my female guests by standing next to the painting with a chocolate cigar and rambling on about "my original Timbrell" and "commissioning" her to do the piece for me. I'll continue about how it's "abstract," "acrylic," and "violent and sexual in nature." Then I move on and tell them about my "personal" relationship with the artist and her tragic run-in with a truck - an accident that left her reflective, similar to a young Frida Kahlo.

Of course, she's not Mexican, her boyfriend doesn't cheat on her, she's not in constant pain, doesn't paint self-portraits, doesn't have a unibrow, but other than that, almost a dead-on Frida! I think the pain and anguish experienced by both women is what I can relate to and appreciate the most about them and their works. While I doubt anyone would know this about me, the demons that haunt me are never far from my life. Art, whether in the form or words, pictures, paintings, music, or food, can sometimes be your only real venue.



Sincerely,
Kevin
The Silicon Valley Bachelor

P.S. Check out Margaret Timbrell's website at www.MargaretTimbrell.com.

Missed Flight Air France Passenger's Fate Reminiscent of Movie: Final Destination

I'm not much into conspiracy theories or sci-fi fantasy, but a lot of things going on with the crash of Air France Flight 447 has been downright creepy. While the cause of the flight hasn't yet been determined, I can't help but think of the television show, Lost.

Also, after Johanna Ganthaler and her husband Kurt barely missed the flight last week, this week she was involved in a car accident that took her life. Her husband was seriously injured. I'd be interested to see who else missed the flight and hope nothing bad happens to them.

If you've seen Final Destination, a group of young folks end up getting off of a flight because one of them sees a vision of the flight crashing. One by one, "fate" chases them down and kills them through a series of freak accidents.

On another note, I saw a ghost (or a figment of my imagination in my dream state) in my room two nights ago as I abruptly awoke at around 5am. I was freaked out, but then started calming myself down by telling myself that ghosts can't hurt you (or so I hope). Also, I figure, as in Sixth Sense, maybe they just want some help. Unfortunately, as I lay holding the sheets above my nose, I had no ghost therapist to confide, "I see dead people." Plus I could never say it as eerily as Haley Joel Osment. That kid can act.

It could be just as much of a blessing as a curse to see a ghost. Do I sound crazy? It could very well have been just a part of my dream as I awoke, but I figure I must come to terms that it was an actuality to get past the fear that it caused. I don't like to live in fear. It's scary.

Sincerely,
Kevin
The Silicon Valley Bachelor

P.S. If Patrick Swayze starts singing songs in my bedroom as I'm sleeping, I'm going to be downright p*ssed.

Myspace is Dead: How Facebook Outwitted a FOX

I’m sure quite a few of you have a MySpace AND a Facebook page, but if you haven’t already, I’m sure your MySpace page is headed for retirement or deletion altogether, much like that Friendster page of yours. As for me, I’ve kept them all, but only in hopes that one of those hot women on Friendster or MySpace named Hope, Charity, Dawn, or StripperFace turn out to be a real girl who will love me for me, and not the $29.99 a month I pay them to watch their live webcam.

At first, MySpace ignored Facebook. Then as Facebook’s growth became undeniable and their rise to the top, inevitable, MySpace began copying every cool feature from Facebook. The worst part about it was they did a second rate copy job. It’s like seeing your buddy come home with a hot female blowup doll and then you get your own in the mail, but it turns out to be male, so you have to put your own lipstick and wig on it. It’s just not as good.

Well, we all know how Facebook won over our minds and affections: vanity and voyeurism made easy. Sure, FOX scored a major boon when they bought MySpace for far less than it was worth. And they’ve made their investment back tenfold through lucrative deals with Google and gaudy front page advertisements, but they let a valuable entity become virtually a non-player. In another year, I predict you’ll see a precipitous drop in traffic and users to a Friendster-type level, and worse yet, a drop into irrelevance. If it weren’t for users logging-in to listen to music for hours at a time, MySpace would already be toast.

The reason is pure and simple. MySpace employees got old. With no equity left to gain, Los Angeles sunshine to enjoy, and employees well into their 30s and 40s, the desire and thirst for innovation stagnated as MySpace rested and vested on its laurels. Facebook, on the other hand, continues to hire some of the brightest from the college ranks each year. While MySpace has made far more money than Facebook, thanks to a marriage of old media (FOX) and new media (web 2.0), they let the old minds spread a virus through MySpace. Inactivity caused by corporate bureaucracy leads to death in the constantly evolving world of web 2.0.

Facebook has constantly changed its look and feel, even as users unleash varying levels of backlash against this wave of change. Facebook is smart, though. Not only have they pinpointed the luxuries of the web (connection, voyeurism, simplicity), they’ve kept the focus and priority on the user experience, as revenue takes a side seat - a very important passenger seat, but still not the driver. This is important, because in the quest for the big dollars, MySpace succeeded and won that battle, but ultimately have lost the war.

Sincerely,
Kevin
The Silicon Valley Bachelor

P.S. Building and sustaining a brand is a marathon, not a sprint. Therefore, take your time when blowing up that mail-order doll. The rewards can be immense.