The first time I was ever on an airplane, I was 6 years old. I remember the seats being comfy, having plenty of leg room and even getting an in-flight meal of hot dogs and potato chips.
Plus, I was given heaping glasses of orange juice. :-)
And that was the first and only time I have ever flown first class.
First class. We all have to walk through it every time we shuffle down to coach. First class. With its comfy leather seats. First class. Where the patrons get complimentary glasses of orange juice and champagne prior to takeoff.
First class.
No charge for the in-flight movie here.
Last night my wife Ramona and I took a red eye from Maui to Los Angeles, heading home after our honeymoon. And as we walked through first class into our cramped seats in coach, I found myself thinking the same things I always think about when I go through first class.
I found myself thinking how spoiled the folks in first class must be. I found myself thinking how these people don't know what it's like to suffer through bad food (which you have to pay for) and TVs that don't work half of the time. I found myself thinking how much I hate these people for their obvious wealth.
Man, do I want to be one of them!!
Let's face it: We all yearn to be among the pompous first class elite. We want to be spoiled, pampered, drink orange juice in fancy glasses like there's no tomorrow. We don't think that flying coach shows us that we're real people. And even if we did, who the %$#%& wants to be real?!?! Real is cramped, with screaming babies and lavatories that you have to share with 150 people. Real sucks.
And so, one day I vow to be fake. One day I vow to return to the world of make-believe. One day I vow to sit in first class, drink my OJ, enjoy my leg room, use my lavatory that I only have to share with 20 people, get my free in-flight movie, and...
Finally...
Insist on a special dietary meal of hot dogs and potato chips.
First class.
Where dreams happen.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
What's the deal with college football having teams do a pregame handshake? Postgame is one thing: The game is over, the battle has been won or lost, there's little more to do than to say "good game." But before the game? Why don't you just have soldiers of war shake hands before they shoot each other?
Hey Iraqi soldier, I'm going to do my very best to blow your brains out. But before I do, let's shake hands.
It makes no sense.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
'That' Married Couple, Wedding Rings, And Changing Your Maiden Name: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
So I've been married for a week now and I've discovered the following three things:
1) Ramona and I are totally "that couple", that stereotypical couple that you see across the room being lovey dovey with each other. You know that couple you want to throw something at really hard (and preferably at their heads) because they're so lovey dovey that it makes you fully realize just how lonely you really are?
That's us. It's our heads you want to traumatize. :-)
Example:
Ramona: Hi husband!!
Me: Hi wife!!
Ramona: We're married!!
Me: I know!!
Ramona: You're my hubby!!
Nev: You're my wifey!!
Both: Tee hee hee!!
(palms flail away at each other)
Yep. We're like that.
2) Wearing a wedding ring actually isn't that bad. For someone who has never worn a ring in his life, I was admittedly a little concerned. But honestly, I hardly realize it's on.
And I like that it's shiny!! :-)
One thing, though:
How the hell do you get this thing off? The whole "twisty" thing don't work and I can't pull it off without soap and water. Is it naturally supposed to be welded onto your skin? Is that part of the deal?
And finally:
3) People who mistakenly say:
Hello Mr. and Mrs. Barich
:-)
Now before I go further, know this: Ramona has decided to keep her maiden name. And honestly, I'm totally cool with it. Women today shouldn't automatically be expected to change their last name upon marriage. And besides, my new wifey (tee hee hee!!) is becoming one of the premier sports columnists in the country and is known nationally by her maiden name.
Plus, she's letting our future kids have my last name. So why should I complain?
Nonetheless, I have to confess that it's kind of cool when I hear people call us "Mr. and Mrs. Barich". I get a big kick out of it, probably because I know it won't last very long. It makes me realize that I'm indeed married, and because Ramona remains in honeymoon mode, being called "Mrs. Barich" isn't pissing her off yet. Before it wears off, I aim to take advantage by having at least one person call her: "Mrs. B."
(Note: As I write this, I asked Ramona how she'd feel about being called "Mrs. B." She did not look pleased. Admittedly, hearing it reminds me of a 60-year-old librarian).
I know that eventually, people calling her Mrs. Barich will annoy her. And that's cool. Today during our helicopter tour in the Hawaiian island of Kauai, someone accidentally called me "Nevin Shelburne."
And to me, it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard.
Men changing their maiden name.
Can you say:
Penis-less?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE:
Although Ramona and I are having an amazing honeymoon so far, we have avoided the overpriced spa at the hotel. The spa offers such deals as:
Sunscreen application with foot reflexology massage.
A 20-minute service. Price: $50
In other words, $50 to have someone rub your feet with suntan lotion.
In a "reflexology" fashion.
Right.
1) Ramona and I are totally "that couple", that stereotypical couple that you see across the room being lovey dovey with each other. You know that couple you want to throw something at really hard (and preferably at their heads) because they're so lovey dovey that it makes you fully realize just how lonely you really are?
That's us. It's our heads you want to traumatize. :-)
Example:
Ramona: Hi husband!!
Me: Hi wife!!
Ramona: We're married!!
Me: I know!!
Ramona: You're my hubby!!
Nev: You're my wifey!!
Both: Tee hee hee!!
(palms flail away at each other)
Yep. We're like that.
2) Wearing a wedding ring actually isn't that bad. For someone who has never worn a ring in his life, I was admittedly a little concerned. But honestly, I hardly realize it's on.
And I like that it's shiny!! :-)
One thing, though:
How the hell do you get this thing off? The whole "twisty" thing don't work and I can't pull it off without soap and water. Is it naturally supposed to be welded onto your skin? Is that part of the deal?
And finally:
3) People who mistakenly say:
Hello Mr. and Mrs. Barich
:-)
Now before I go further, know this: Ramona has decided to keep her maiden name. And honestly, I'm totally cool with it. Women today shouldn't automatically be expected to change their last name upon marriage. And besides, my new wifey (tee hee hee!!) is becoming one of the premier sports columnists in the country and is known nationally by her maiden name.
Plus, she's letting our future kids have my last name. So why should I complain?
Nonetheless, I have to confess that it's kind of cool when I hear people call us "Mr. and Mrs. Barich". I get a big kick out of it, probably because I know it won't last very long. It makes me realize that I'm indeed married, and because Ramona remains in honeymoon mode, being called "Mrs. Barich" isn't pissing her off yet. Before it wears off, I aim to take advantage by having at least one person call her: "Mrs. B."
(Note: As I write this, I asked Ramona how she'd feel about being called "Mrs. B." She did not look pleased. Admittedly, hearing it reminds me of a 60-year-old librarian).
I know that eventually, people calling her Mrs. Barich will annoy her. And that's cool. Today during our helicopter tour in the Hawaiian island of Kauai, someone accidentally called me "Nevin Shelburne."
And to me, it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard.
Men changing their maiden name.
Can you say:
Penis-less?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE:
Although Ramona and I are having an amazing honeymoon so far, we have avoided the overpriced spa at the hotel. The spa offers such deals as:
Sunscreen application with foot reflexology massage.
A 20-minute service. Price: $50
In other words, $50 to have someone rub your feet with suntan lotion.
In a "reflexology" fashion.
Right.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The Hours Before My Wedding: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Let me tell you something I discovered this evening about wedding rehearsals and wedding rehearsal dinners: When they're for you, they're absolutely exhausting. :-) As I write this, my New York relatives who flew in for the wedding -- all of whom are at least twice my age -- are downstairs in the lobby at our hotel, chatting it up like they're 12-year-old girls at a sleepover, while I am alone in my room planning to hit the hay after I post this blog.
There's something wrong there. :-)
If this blog is all over the place, forgive me. For those of you new to this blog, I write this a mere 16 hours away from getting married to my fiancee Ramona, and my head's a little hazy. She and I have been together for more than eight years and have been engaged for nearly a year, so although I technically haven't felt like a single man since Enron was all the rage, tonight (cue dramatic music) is technically my last night of freedom.
And I'm sitting on a couch. Falling asleep. Blogging.
But despite my lack of living it up, I'm happy. Truly happy. I'm getting married tomorrow, I can honestly say I'm not freaked out, Ramona seems totally happy that she's marrying me (either that or her "tears of joy" was actually caused by her stepping on a rusty nail at the restaurant), and all my friends and family are here ready to celebrate with me.
Pretty cool, huh? :-)
Not that tonight wasn't without its craziness. When you factor in parents, ring bearers, flower girls and Ramona's Grandma Eve, there are over 20 people in the actual wedding, and the rehearsal today consisted of all the women trying to talk over each other while me and the men...more or less stayed silent.
In fact, one of my groomsmen Joe commented at one point:
Nev, I'm a little surprised at your lack of input.
For the record: At today's rehearsal I was asked one question, made a suggestion, and it was ignored.
Just following the wedding tradition of many men before me. :-)
But despite all of that, we got through the rehearsal, and quickly. People know when to line up, where to walk, what to do, what to wear, what to say, and me and my best man Kevin even threw in a fist bump for good measure.
Plus, the rehearsal isn't without its funny story. Midway through I got a text from my friend and former co-worker Frank:
What's up Nev? Got any plans today?
Uh, yeah bud. I'm getting married tomorrow. Other than that, not too much.
The rehearsal dinner was even louder and more crazy, which will happen when you have 60 people from both sides of the family who don't know each other yet like to talk. I found myself meeting people I'd never met before, seeing old friends, revisiting with family I hadn't seen in a long time, and at one point I even went over to a table and said:
I know I'm related to all of you, but I have no idea who you are.
It was an ice breaker. :-)
But it was fun, eventful, everyone got fed, and no blood was shed over the course of the evening (at least in the restaurant). More importantly, everyone was happy. My parents seemed thrilled, Ramona's parents were smiling, Ramona was glowing, friends and family were laughing together, and I had a plate of cheese enchiladas in front of me so I couldn't complain. :-)
So what's my point here? No point. It's just that it's hours from my wedding and I'm cool with not being a bachelor anymore. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to marry the love of my life, wear the ring, be called husband (that will take some getting used to) and live happily ever after.
I'm getting married.
And I'm feeling pretty good.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Again: I'm getting married in 16 hours.
Does that qualify? :-)
There's something wrong there. :-)
If this blog is all over the place, forgive me. For those of you new to this blog, I write this a mere 16 hours away from getting married to my fiancee Ramona, and my head's a little hazy. She and I have been together for more than eight years and have been engaged for nearly a year, so although I technically haven't felt like a single man since Enron was all the rage, tonight (cue dramatic music) is technically my last night of freedom.
And I'm sitting on a couch. Falling asleep. Blogging.
But despite my lack of living it up, I'm happy. Truly happy. I'm getting married tomorrow, I can honestly say I'm not freaked out, Ramona seems totally happy that she's marrying me (either that or her "tears of joy" was actually caused by her stepping on a rusty nail at the restaurant), and all my friends and family are here ready to celebrate with me.
Pretty cool, huh? :-)
Not that tonight wasn't without its craziness. When you factor in parents, ring bearers, flower girls and Ramona's Grandma Eve, there are over 20 people in the actual wedding, and the rehearsal today consisted of all the women trying to talk over each other while me and the men...more or less stayed silent.
In fact, one of my groomsmen Joe commented at one point:
Nev, I'm a little surprised at your lack of input.
For the record: At today's rehearsal I was asked one question, made a suggestion, and it was ignored.
Just following the wedding tradition of many men before me. :-)
But despite all of that, we got through the rehearsal, and quickly. People know when to line up, where to walk, what to do, what to wear, what to say, and me and my best man Kevin even threw in a fist bump for good measure.
Plus, the rehearsal isn't without its funny story. Midway through I got a text from my friend and former co-worker Frank:
What's up Nev? Got any plans today?
Uh, yeah bud. I'm getting married tomorrow. Other than that, not too much.
The rehearsal dinner was even louder and more crazy, which will happen when you have 60 people from both sides of the family who don't know each other yet like to talk. I found myself meeting people I'd never met before, seeing old friends, revisiting with family I hadn't seen in a long time, and at one point I even went over to a table and said:
I know I'm related to all of you, but I have no idea who you are.
It was an ice breaker. :-)
But it was fun, eventful, everyone got fed, and no blood was shed over the course of the evening (at least in the restaurant). More importantly, everyone was happy. My parents seemed thrilled, Ramona's parents were smiling, Ramona was glowing, friends and family were laughing together, and I had a plate of cheese enchiladas in front of me so I couldn't complain. :-)
So what's my point here? No point. It's just that it's hours from my wedding and I'm cool with not being a bachelor anymore. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to marry the love of my life, wear the ring, be called husband (that will take some getting used to) and live happily ever after.
I'm getting married.
And I'm feeling pretty good.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Again: I'm getting married in 16 hours.
Does that qualify? :-)
Saturday, August 15, 2009
All Right, I'll Do The Damn Project Runway Hater Blog Again: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
OK, so here's the deal. Last week, I had made the announcement that I wasn't going to continue with my Project Runway hater blog this season (which starts Aug. 20) because I'm getting married on Aug. 22 and will essentially be away for the first three episodes of the season.
Plus: I truly did hate watching the show. :-)
But because so many of you have asked me to continue doing the blog -- and because I didn't feel like doing another wedding-related blog post this week even though the big day has overtaken my life (BTW: watching people come up with seating charts has to be like watching army generals come up with a battle plan for Afghan strongholds. I mean, there must be similarities) -- I have decided to use this week's space to announce that I will in fact by doing the Project Runway Hater blog -- www.projectrunwayhater.blogspot.com -- again this season.
Happy now? :-)
For those of you who don't know, last year my fiancee Ramona (who was my girlfriend at the time) was pushing me to do one of those fan blogs on a show, thinking that I would be good at it. I, however, hesitated. See, I'm not into fan blogs. I've always found them boring. What's the point of writing on a show you love? You'll either a) write about how much you love the show (which is like watching an action movie without a bad guy) or b) you'll rip the show but not really rip the show because you love it so (and if that sounds like it makes no sense, that's because it makes no sense).
But then I got an idea.
"What if I wrote about a show I hated?" I asked Ramona.
I mean, why not? I had never seen a hater blog before, and wouldn't it be funny to read someone's views on a show they absolutely hated? Ripping the show apart. Showing a lack of understanding. Telling fans of the show that they're moronic imbeciles for liking this idiotic piece of television.
Now that I could get into!!
So I started thinking about kind of show would be perfect for such a blog. Enter Project Runway. I hate clothes, I had watched approximately 13 minutes of one episode and wanted to throw myself off a cliff during every second of those minutes, and Ramona loved the show so I knew that our arguments over her love and my disdain would make for great copy.
And so it began. :-)
And the funny thing was: The blog was successful. Each week, I did a running commentary of the crap that was on screen (and no, my hatred of the show never wavered) and people came to read!! By season's end, more than 13,600 hits were registered on projectrunwayhater.blogspot.com and I even got a small write-up in the Houston Chronicle.
So bucking under public pressure, I will indeed do the blog again. But please note: For the first three weeks of the season, my posts will be late. I'll do my best to squeeze in the Episode 1 recap before the wedding, but recaps of Episodes 2 and 3 will have to wait until I come back from my honeymoon in early September.
So my hate will just have to wait.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
A friend of mine said the following to me yesterday:
Enjoy your last weekend as a bachelor.
Whoa.
Now that sounded "OH MY GOD I'M GETTING MARRIED IN A WEEK WTF AM I DOING!?!?!"-ish.
:-)
Plus: I truly did hate watching the show. :-)
But because so many of you have asked me to continue doing the blog -- and because I didn't feel like doing another wedding-related blog post this week even though the big day has overtaken my life (BTW: watching people come up with seating charts has to be like watching army generals come up with a battle plan for Afghan strongholds. I mean, there must be similarities) -- I have decided to use this week's space to announce that I will in fact by doing the Project Runway Hater blog -- www.projectrunwayhater.blogspot.com -- again this season.
Happy now? :-)
For those of you who don't know, last year my fiancee Ramona (who was my girlfriend at the time) was pushing me to do one of those fan blogs on a show, thinking that I would be good at it. I, however, hesitated. See, I'm not into fan blogs. I've always found them boring. What's the point of writing on a show you love? You'll either a) write about how much you love the show (which is like watching an action movie without a bad guy) or b) you'll rip the show but not really rip the show because you love it so (and if that sounds like it makes no sense, that's because it makes no sense).
But then I got an idea.
"What if I wrote about a show I hated?" I asked Ramona.
I mean, why not? I had never seen a hater blog before, and wouldn't it be funny to read someone's views on a show they absolutely hated? Ripping the show apart. Showing a lack of understanding. Telling fans of the show that they're moronic imbeciles for liking this idiotic piece of television.
Now that I could get into!!
So I started thinking about kind of show would be perfect for such a blog. Enter Project Runway. I hate clothes, I had watched approximately 13 minutes of one episode and wanted to throw myself off a cliff during every second of those minutes, and Ramona loved the show so I knew that our arguments over her love and my disdain would make for great copy.
And so it began. :-)
And the funny thing was: The blog was successful. Each week, I did a running commentary of the crap that was on screen (and no, my hatred of the show never wavered) and people came to read!! By season's end, more than 13,600 hits were registered on projectrunwayhater.blogspot.com and I even got a small write-up in the Houston Chronicle.
So bucking under public pressure, I will indeed do the blog again. But please note: For the first three weeks of the season, my posts will be late. I'll do my best to squeeze in the Episode 1 recap before the wedding, but recaps of Episodes 2 and 3 will have to wait until I come back from my honeymoon in early September.
So my hate will just have to wait.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
A friend of mine said the following to me yesterday:
Enjoy your last weekend as a bachelor.
Whoa.
Now that sounded "OH MY GOD I'M GETTING MARRIED IN A WEEK WTF AM I DOING!?!?!"-ish.
:-)
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Turning 30 With The Most Wonderful Woman In The World By My Side: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Usually when I write birthday blogs, I typically write about getting older while coming up with some funny little twist. And this year was going to be no exception. I am mere hours away from Thursday, Aug. 6, where I will turn the big 3-0. My 20s will be gone, I'll be starting on the path to middle age, and I even had the "funny twist" all set up:
"If the 30-year-old me ever went head-to-head with the 20-year-old me, 30-year-old Nev would kick 20-year-old Nev's ass!!"
But here's the thing: I honestly have barely thought about turning 30. I really haven't. My birthday really did sneak up on me this year. I know people make a big deal about turning 30, but as my 30th comes near, I have something much more important on my agenda:
Getting married to the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world. :-)
For those new to my blog, on Aug. 22 I am getting married to my longtime girlfriend Ramona Shelburne. Ramona and I have been together for more than eight years, and it's her that I want to talk about this week.
Being with Ramona has taught me many things over the years. She taught me never to settle in my life. She taught me not to fear venturing out of my comfort zone. She taught me that it's OK to fail, and if I do, people won't think less of me and/or run away from me.
All of these lessons were huge and have helped me immensely throughout our relationship, but there was one lesson in particular that Ramona taught me that I value above everything else:
Unconditional love.
Unconditional love. It's different from falling in love. Falling in love, in many ways, is easy. You find someone that matches your physical, emotional and mental qualities, and you realize that it's easy to open up your heart to that person and let him or her in. You're seeing the best in that person and it makes you feel amazing.
That's falling in love.
But unconditional love is different. Unconditional love is when you continue to love that person no matter what. Unconditional love is when you love a person even after seeing some of their bad qualities, their flaws. Unconditional love is when you love someone even after seeing them at their worst, their lowest points.
Unconditional love is the love that matters most.
Ramona was the first woman I met with unconditional love in her heart. And I confess: It took me a long time to realize just how important and rare that really was. It was a lesson she and I have had to learn (and will continue to learn) more than once in our relationship, a lesson I nearly failed once or twice. But seeing her give me unconditional love during my low points in our relationship taught me the importance of doing the same for her. It's like a friend of mine once told me: "It's not about the good qualities in the person. It's about their bad qualities. Loving the good is easy. But if you can love the bad along with it, then you've got something."
That "something" is unconditional love. Ramona has always had it, and during our relationship, she taught it to me. :-)
Case in point: As I write this, I am currently holed up in my bedroom with bronchitis. I feel terrible, have to be waited on hand and foot, and look like one of the zombies in the movie "28 Days Later." The other night, I had a horrible coughing fit, so bad that I was nearly in tears as I feared something was seriously wrong. But Ramona was right there, calming me down, taking me to the emergency room, making sure I took my medicines and got plenty of rest. Her care has been awesome, but what's been even more awesome is knowing that even in this bad state, she still loves me regardless. I'm currently in one of those "at my worst" moments and yet I'm OK, because I don't have to question whether Ramona's love for me is any less. And during her "worst" moments, she knows that she also doesn't have to question my love for her.
That's unconditional love. :-)
Unconditional love is not easy. It's a two-way street -- both people in the relationship need to have it. So for those of you in relationships right now who have this type of love, I say never take it for granted. For everyone else, I say that falling in love is amazing. But unconditional love is truly the greatest love of all.
The love of my life taught me that. :-)
So how do I feel about turning 30?
Bring it on!! Because I got the greatest woman in the world by my side.
I love you, Ramona!! Thanks for saying yes!!
:-)
Before I get to this week's Sign Of The Apocalypse, a lot of you have been asking whether I'm going to continue my Project Runway Hater's blog for this upcoming season. The answer, unfortunately, is no. Despite hating watching the show all season, I genuinely loved that people got a kick out of the blog, and getting that mention in the Houston Chronicle was awesome. However, the season doesn't start until Aug. 20 and my wedding is Aug. 22. Factoring in final wedding preparations and the honeymoon, I'm already missing the first three weeks of the show. So it's with a bit of sadness that I say no to the Project Runway Hater blog this season.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Remember that dare I talked about during last week's blog entry?
Here's the video.
:-)
"If the 30-year-old me ever went head-to-head with the 20-year-old me, 30-year-old Nev would kick 20-year-old Nev's ass!!"
But here's the thing: I honestly have barely thought about turning 30. I really haven't. My birthday really did sneak up on me this year. I know people make a big deal about turning 30, but as my 30th comes near, I have something much more important on my agenda:
Getting married to the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world. :-)
For those new to my blog, on Aug. 22 I am getting married to my longtime girlfriend Ramona Shelburne. Ramona and I have been together for more than eight years, and it's her that I want to talk about this week.
Being with Ramona has taught me many things over the years. She taught me never to settle in my life. She taught me not to fear venturing out of my comfort zone. She taught me that it's OK to fail, and if I do, people won't think less of me and/or run away from me.
All of these lessons were huge and have helped me immensely throughout our relationship, but there was one lesson in particular that Ramona taught me that I value above everything else:
Unconditional love.
Unconditional love. It's different from falling in love. Falling in love, in many ways, is easy. You find someone that matches your physical, emotional and mental qualities, and you realize that it's easy to open up your heart to that person and let him or her in. You're seeing the best in that person and it makes you feel amazing.
That's falling in love.
But unconditional love is different. Unconditional love is when you continue to love that person no matter what. Unconditional love is when you love a person even after seeing some of their bad qualities, their flaws. Unconditional love is when you love someone even after seeing them at their worst, their lowest points.
Unconditional love is the love that matters most.
Ramona was the first woman I met with unconditional love in her heart. And I confess: It took me a long time to realize just how important and rare that really was. It was a lesson she and I have had to learn (and will continue to learn) more than once in our relationship, a lesson I nearly failed once or twice. But seeing her give me unconditional love during my low points in our relationship taught me the importance of doing the same for her. It's like a friend of mine once told me: "It's not about the good qualities in the person. It's about their bad qualities. Loving the good is easy. But if you can love the bad along with it, then you've got something."
That "something" is unconditional love. Ramona has always had it, and during our relationship, she taught it to me. :-)
Case in point: As I write this, I am currently holed up in my bedroom with bronchitis. I feel terrible, have to be waited on hand and foot, and look like one of the zombies in the movie "28 Days Later." The other night, I had a horrible coughing fit, so bad that I was nearly in tears as I feared something was seriously wrong. But Ramona was right there, calming me down, taking me to the emergency room, making sure I took my medicines and got plenty of rest. Her care has been awesome, but what's been even more awesome is knowing that even in this bad state, she still loves me regardless. I'm currently in one of those "at my worst" moments and yet I'm OK, because I don't have to question whether Ramona's love for me is any less. And during her "worst" moments, she knows that she also doesn't have to question my love for her.
That's unconditional love. :-)
Unconditional love is not easy. It's a two-way street -- both people in the relationship need to have it. So for those of you in relationships right now who have this type of love, I say never take it for granted. For everyone else, I say that falling in love is amazing. But unconditional love is truly the greatest love of all.
The love of my life taught me that. :-)
So how do I feel about turning 30?
Bring it on!! Because I got the greatest woman in the world by my side.
I love you, Ramona!! Thanks for saying yes!!
:-)
Before I get to this week's Sign Of The Apocalypse, a lot of you have been asking whether I'm going to continue my Project Runway Hater's blog for this upcoming season. The answer, unfortunately, is no. Despite hating watching the show all season, I genuinely loved that people got a kick out of the blog, and getting that mention in the Houston Chronicle was awesome. However, the season doesn't start until Aug. 20 and my wedding is Aug. 22. Factoring in final wedding preparations and the honeymoon, I'm already missing the first three weeks of the show. So it's with a bit of sadness that I say no to the Project Runway Hater blog this season.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Remember that dare I talked about during last week's blog entry?
Here's the video.
:-)
Friday, July 31, 2009
The Las Vegas Bachelor Party Recap: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Nevdogg Note: Last week, I wrote about my anticipation leading up to my bachelor party weekend in Las Vegas (for new readers of mine, I am getting married on Aug. 22). I was originally going to leave it at that and not talk about anything that happened during the bachelor party. After all:
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. :-)
But then the following three things happened:
1) The trip was funny as hell.
2) It was the most fun I had in a long, long time.
And 3) I managed not to break any of my fiancee Ramona's "if you do anything insanely stupid, like get a tattoo, sleep with another woman or marry someone else in a drunken haze, I'm gonna chop your balls off and watch you bleed to death" rules of conduct.
In short: What the hell is stopping me from writing about this? :-)
So without further adieu, here's a breakdown of my bachelor party. Other participants: Kevin (my best friend, my best man, married); Joe (groomsman, also married); Jeremy (bachelor party planner extraordinaire, also married); Carlos (Latin guy, don't call him Mexican because he's not, single); and Evan (lawyer by day, lady killer by night, single):
FRIDAY
9:30 a.m., on the way to Vegas.
Kevin: Yeah, the Hoover Dam tour just isn't what it used to be.
The quote of the trip, by far.
10 a.m., on the way to Vegas. We stop to pick up Jeremy. We're packing everything in our rented SUV when Carlos picks up one of my bags.
Nev: Hey Carlos, be careful with that. That's my laptop bag.
(pause)
Carlos: Why the hell are you bringing your laptop?
Nev: So I can check my e-mail and ESPN.
Carlos: Dude, this is your bachelor party in Vegas. You shouldn't be wasting your time on a laptop.
Nev: But what if I want to check my scores?
Carlos: Dude, live without sports for a couple of days.
Nev: That's crazy talk!!
Carlos: Nevin, this is your bachelor party. You should be able to do what you want.
Nev: Fine. I want to bring my laptop.
Carlos: No.
Nev: You just said I can do what I want.
Carlos: Except bring the laptop.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: What if I let you borrow it for 10 minutes during the trip so you can watch porn?
Carlos: (sighs)
(the others come to the SUV)
Carlos: Guys, listen to this: Nevin is bringing his laptop. How lame is that?
Jeremy: I'm bringing my laptop.
Kevin: Me too.
Evan: I'm checking e-mails on my blackberry.
(pause)
Carlos: You guys are stupid!!
Nev: Maybe so. But anything we don't know, we'll look up on the Internet.
11 a.m. Stop for a late breakfast in Irwindale. Evan and Carlos, the single guys, discuss to the rest of the group how talking to ladies is done in today's times:
Evan: Nev, what do you think a guy says when he's talking to a girl?
Nev: Um, I don't know. What do you do for a living?
Evan: No no no. It's about non-communication communication.
Carlos: Totally!! Non-communication communication.
(Nev and Kev look at each other, confused and unconvinced looks spreading across their faces)
Evan: It's about just looking at her. Not saying a word. Just looking at her. Catching her eye. Making it known that you see her, but don't need to rush it.
Carlos: Not rushing is key. Just maintain the eye contact and put out the vibe.
Evan: The vibe.
Carlos: The vibe.
(pause)
Kevin: Um, when do you actually go and talk to her?
Evan: Her body will tell you when.
Carlos: Oh yeah. It totally will.
Nev: Her body will tell me when?
Evan: Trust me, Nev. This is how it works today.
Nev: But what do you say when you actually approach her?
Evan: You just go up to her and say:
"Hey, you seem like a really interesting person and I just wanted to come over and see what you're about."
(Evan and Carlos lean back and give each other a triumphant nod. Nev and Kev, meanwhile, give each other quizzical looks)
Kev: I think I speak for Nevin and I when I say: You two are imbeciles.
Nev: I'm sending you the "imbecile" vibe right now. Can you feel it?
Kev: I can feel it.
Nev: That's because my body is telling you when.
Noon. Quick piss stop in Hesperia when...
Jeremy: OH MY GOD!!!! IT'S THE WIENERMOBILE!!!!
Everyone Else: WHERE?!? WHERE?!?
We proceed to follow the wienermobile to a shopping center parking lot where, along with a crowd of about 50 people, we take numerous photos with it from all different angles.
The trip is mere hours old and is already a success.
5:30 p.m. We get to Vegas -- we stayed at the Luxor -- and everyone convened in my room to discuss the plan for the evening. It should be noted that while I was not involved in my bachelor party planning -- Kevin and Jeremy handled that -- I did veto an early idea about going to see a Beatles show. I like the Beatles but am not crazy gaga about them like so many others. Nevertheless...
Carlos: So guys, Evan and I had an idea for tonight.
Evan: Yeah, we really need to go see the Beatles Cirque du Soleil show Love.
Carlos: It's awesome!!
Nev: Ah guys, I don't know. I'm not the biggest Beatles fan.
Evan: But Nevin, it's rad.
Carlos: You really have to see this.
Evan: Totally.
Nev: Uh, I'll be honest. I don't know if I'm feeling it.
Evan: Nev, let me just read you a description about the show.
(Evan grabs a hotel brochure off my desk)
Evan (reading): Born from a personal friendship and mutual admiration between the late George Harrison and Cirque founder Guy Laliberté, LOVE brings the magic of Cirque du Soleil together with the spirit and passion behind the most beloved rock group of all time to create a vivid, intimate and powerful entertainment experience.
Jeremy: Hey, let me see that brochure.
(Evan hands the brochure to Jeremy.)
Jeremy: Hey we can also see Fantasy at Luxor. Hot naked women...
Nev (interrupting): Sold!!
What can I say? Evan's a lawyer, but Jeremy made a more persuasive argument. :-)
7 p.m. We're eating dinner at Tacos and Tequila at the Luxor. Jeremy orders a shot of Patron Silver tequila for everyone. Now I hardly ever drink. Even in college, I was a light drinker. I had a kahlua and cream over 4th of July weekend that was my first drink in 18 months. So when the shots came, I had to ask Jeremy the following:
Nev: OK, so: What's the order?
Jeremy: You lick the salt off your hand, you down the tequila, and then you bite into the lime.
Nev: OK. Salt, tequila, lime. Salt, tequila, lime.
I take a breath, we hold our shot glasses, and the salt licking, tequila downing and lime biting commences.
(I cough 5-6 times.)
Jeremy: What do you think?
Nev: (coughs) Smooooootttthhhh. (coughs)
(Note: By the time the second shot came around, I was licking the salt, downin' the Patron and biting the lime quicker than anyone at the table. I'm a quick study. LOL)
8 p.m. We've been served all night by a cute little 22-year-old blond waitress named Molly. Near the end of dinner, we start chatting her up. Interestingly enough, it was the married and soon-to-be married guys at the table -- me, Kevin and Jeremy (Joe was meeting us in Vegas the following day) -- who were doing the talking while the vibe-sending single guys stayed quiet. Finally, Carlos spoke during the following exchange:
Nev: So you said you're a student?
Molly: Yeah. I go to UNLV.
Nev: What are you studying?
Molly: Ultrasounds.
Carlos: Oh really? And what are you planning to do with that degree?
(pause)
Molly: Um...ultrasounds.
Jeremy: She's gonna fly jets, Carlos.
It's OK Carlos. Points for trying. :-)
10:30 p.m. -- 11:45 p.m. The Fantasy at Luxor. 75 minutes of nothing but hot naked women on stage
Nev to Carlos: And you wanted to see the Beatles.
Carlos didn't answer. He was in a bit of a daze. But I think my message came through. :-)
SATURDAY
We all meet up for a late breakfast and then meet Joe in the Luxor sportsbook. Joe had come up to Vegas separately with his wife Kristy, who had already planned a trip to Vegas with her friends. All of us are milling around in the sportsbook chatting for a bit when a horrible sin -- a break of a bachelor party by-law -- is committed:
Kristy: Hi Nev. Just wanted to say hello real quick.
Kristy chats me up for a minute and leaves.
Now:
No no no no no. A wife or girlfriend never -- and I mean NEVER -- stops in to say hello during a guy's bachelor party. I mean...no!! It just can't be tolerated.
Nev to Joe: You know you're gonna get %$#@& for that by the guys later, right?
Joe: (sighs) I know, I know.
Suffice to say: The rest of the trip was a bit rough on Joe.
4:30 p.m. We all part ways for a few hours to do our own thing. After finishing second in a poker tournament, I head to my room to get ready for the evening when I get a text from my friend Tiffany. Tiffany's mom, apparently, has come up with a special "bachelor party dare" for me to do.
I accept the challenge.
More on this later. :-)
6:30 p.m. We're all eating dinner at the Rio Around The World Carnival Buffet (my favorite place to eat in Vegas) where, in quick succession, I am given both a double shot of Patron Silver (smoooooottthhhhh) and a Washington Apple, which consists of Canadian whiskey, sour apple schnapps and cranberry juice. As a result, I become a little...out of it. :-) Everything to me is now hysterical, I find myself juggling a Heinz ketchup bottle for my amusement, and in this intoxicated state I participate in the following exchange:
Joe: You know Carlos, you really should go after older white women.
Carlos: Really?
Joe: Definitely. They'll like you.
Nev: OH TOTALLY!!!! (I was a little loud. Remember: I'm a bit looped). Dude, chase after older white women. A lot of them are really hot, and they'll like you because they can fulfill their GARDENER FANTASY!!!!
(dead silence except for me pounding the table in hysterics. I look up at Carlos.)
Nev: See, you're the gardener and...
Carlos: Yeah Nev, I got it. I got it.
I have to sincerely thank Carlos for not kicking the crap out of me right then. That's a true friend. :-)
9:30 p.m. We stop at an Irish pub at New York New York for my traditional bachelor party roasting. Now at these things, you normally get a lot of gag gifts of a sexual nature that are meant to embarrass the hell out of the bachelor. In my case...it was no different. :-) The "highlight" of my gag gifts, by far, was an inflatable sex toy lamb that I was ordered to walk around with in plain sight for the rest of the evening.
Now initially, I was horrified as hell. But I'll tell you something: Women all over the place were coming toward me, wanting to pet my lamb (which I named Molly). I mean, this thing was a conversation starter!! I offered it to the single boys Evan and Carlos for their use -- they declined -- and even whispered to Kevin at one point:
Why the hell didn't we think of this when we were single?
Observe the following exchanges:
Random Hot Blond Girl At The Irish Pub: Oh, I love your lamb!!
Nev: Her name is Molly.
Hot Blond Girl: Aww, that's so cute!! You named her?
Nev: Would you like to dance with us?
Hot Blond Girl: Sure!!
See? :-)
And later:
Another Random Hot Girl: Hey nice lamb.
Nev: Thanks!! We just met tonight.
Another Random Hot Girl: Yeah, I recently bought an inflatable beaver. Want to come up to my room later and see?
I politely declined -- I'm a one-woman guy -- but I'm telling you, my single guy readers:
Inflatable lamb.
It'll change your life.
:-)
10:30 p.m. - Midnight. My boys got me tickets to see Zumanity, the nude Cirque du Soleil show. Kevin, Jeremy and I had actually seen it before -- at Kevin's bachelor party in 2007 -- but since it involves hot naked girls bending in ways never before seen, I wasn't complaining. LOL Besides:
We had third-row seats!!
As a result, we had a bird's eye view (pun intended) of my favorite part of the show: Two hot Asian chicks frolicking in a large water bowl.
The women jump in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women jump out of the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women go back in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women lift their legs high.
Nev: THEY'RE BENDING!!! (holds my lamb in triumph)
My bachelor party was better than Kevin's. I apologized to him. He accepted.
And finally:
12:15 a.m.
You remember that dare? :-)
Earlier in the night, I asked Kevin to be sure to bring his camera as it had a function to record videos. I call everyone in for a huddle in the middle of the New York New York slot machines:
Nev: OK listen up. I'm gonna start playing some slots. Kevin, you stay behind me and start filming. Everyone else, just stay back. Kev, no matter what happens, you keep filming!! And guys: If you see security coming, squawk like eagles.
Worry permeated on everyone's faces. Nonetheless, I had accepted the challenge.
I start playing the slots. A minute later:
Nev: Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD!!! I WON!!! I WON!!! I WON I WON I WON!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!! I DID IT!!! I DID IT!!! I HIT THE JACKPOT!!!!
(I high-five the old ladies to the right of me.)
(I give Evan a bear hug.)
(I high-five the blackjack players to the left of me.)
(I leap into Joe's arms and raise my arm like I just won the Super Bowl. That part looks especially good on video).
(I run back into the middle of the slots)
Random Casino Patron: How much did you win?
Nev: I WON A DOLLAR!!!
(people stop cheering)
Nev: A DOLLAR!!!
(cheering has not re-commenced)
Nev: And in today's economy, that means something!!
(dead silence)
Nev: Thank you, and I now return you to your regularly schedule gambling.
By this point, people were pissed. No matter. We got it on video, my boys thought it was hysterical, and besides:
It was a double dog dare.
:-)
We ended the night by heading to the coffee shop for a quick bite to eat. By 2 a.m., everyone else had gone to bed. Me? I stayed up to gamble for a while, winning $350 playing cash poker and 3-card poker before turning in at about 4:30 a.m., my head pounding, my throat dry and the biggest smile spreading over my face.
My bachelor party.
The most fun I had had in a long time.
Vegas baby.
Vegas.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Next Thursday, Aug. 6, I turn 30.
Any guess as to what next week's blog topic will be about? :-)
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. :-)
But then the following three things happened:
1) The trip was funny as hell.
2) It was the most fun I had in a long, long time.
And 3) I managed not to break any of my fiancee Ramona's "if you do anything insanely stupid, like get a tattoo, sleep with another woman or marry someone else in a drunken haze, I'm gonna chop your balls off and watch you bleed to death" rules of conduct.
In short: What the hell is stopping me from writing about this? :-)
So without further adieu, here's a breakdown of my bachelor party. Other participants: Kevin (my best friend, my best man, married); Joe (groomsman, also married); Jeremy (bachelor party planner extraordinaire, also married); Carlos (Latin guy, don't call him Mexican because he's not, single); and Evan (lawyer by day, lady killer by night, single):
FRIDAY
9:30 a.m., on the way to Vegas.
Kevin: Yeah, the Hoover Dam tour just isn't what it used to be.
The quote of the trip, by far.
10 a.m., on the way to Vegas. We stop to pick up Jeremy. We're packing everything in our rented SUV when Carlos picks up one of my bags.
Nev: Hey Carlos, be careful with that. That's my laptop bag.
(pause)
Carlos: Why the hell are you bringing your laptop?
Nev: So I can check my e-mail and ESPN.
Carlos: Dude, this is your bachelor party in Vegas. You shouldn't be wasting your time on a laptop.
Nev: But what if I want to check my scores?
Carlos: Dude, live without sports for a couple of days.
Nev: That's crazy talk!!
Carlos: Nevin, this is your bachelor party. You should be able to do what you want.
Nev: Fine. I want to bring my laptop.
Carlos: No.
Nev: You just said I can do what I want.
Carlos: Except bring the laptop.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: What if I let you borrow it for 10 minutes during the trip so you can watch porn?
Carlos: (sighs)
(the others come to the SUV)
Carlos: Guys, listen to this: Nevin is bringing his laptop. How lame is that?
Jeremy: I'm bringing my laptop.
Kevin: Me too.
Evan: I'm checking e-mails on my blackberry.
(pause)
Carlos: You guys are stupid!!
Nev: Maybe so. But anything we don't know, we'll look up on the Internet.
11 a.m. Stop for a late breakfast in Irwindale. Evan and Carlos, the single guys, discuss to the rest of the group how talking to ladies is done in today's times:
Evan: Nev, what do you think a guy says when he's talking to a girl?
Nev: Um, I don't know. What do you do for a living?
Evan: No no no. It's about non-communication communication.
Carlos: Totally!! Non-communication communication.
(Nev and Kev look at each other, confused and unconvinced looks spreading across their faces)
Evan: It's about just looking at her. Not saying a word. Just looking at her. Catching her eye. Making it known that you see her, but don't need to rush it.
Carlos: Not rushing is key. Just maintain the eye contact and put out the vibe.
Evan: The vibe.
Carlos: The vibe.
(pause)
Kevin: Um, when do you actually go and talk to her?
Evan: Her body will tell you when.
Carlos: Oh yeah. It totally will.
Nev: Her body will tell me when?
Evan: Trust me, Nev. This is how it works today.
Nev: But what do you say when you actually approach her?
Evan: You just go up to her and say:
"Hey, you seem like a really interesting person and I just wanted to come over and see what you're about."
(Evan and Carlos lean back and give each other a triumphant nod. Nev and Kev, meanwhile, give each other quizzical looks)
Kev: I think I speak for Nevin and I when I say: You two are imbeciles.
Nev: I'm sending you the "imbecile" vibe right now. Can you feel it?
Kev: I can feel it.
Nev: That's because my body is telling you when.
Noon. Quick piss stop in Hesperia when...
Jeremy: OH MY GOD!!!! IT'S THE WIENERMOBILE!!!!
Everyone Else: WHERE?!? WHERE?!?
We proceed to follow the wienermobile to a shopping center parking lot where, along with a crowd of about 50 people, we take numerous photos with it from all different angles.
The trip is mere hours old and is already a success.
5:30 p.m. We get to Vegas -- we stayed at the Luxor -- and everyone convened in my room to discuss the plan for the evening. It should be noted that while I was not involved in my bachelor party planning -- Kevin and Jeremy handled that -- I did veto an early idea about going to see a Beatles show. I like the Beatles but am not crazy gaga about them like so many others. Nevertheless...
Carlos: So guys, Evan and I had an idea for tonight.
Evan: Yeah, we really need to go see the Beatles Cirque du Soleil show Love.
Carlos: It's awesome!!
Nev: Ah guys, I don't know. I'm not the biggest Beatles fan.
Evan: But Nevin, it's rad.
Carlos: You really have to see this.
Evan: Totally.
Nev: Uh, I'll be honest. I don't know if I'm feeling it.
Evan: Nev, let me just read you a description about the show.
(Evan grabs a hotel brochure off my desk)
Evan (reading): Born from a personal friendship and mutual admiration between the late George Harrison and Cirque founder Guy Laliberté, LOVE brings the magic of Cirque du Soleil together with the spirit and passion behind the most beloved rock group of all time to create a vivid, intimate and powerful entertainment experience.
Jeremy: Hey, let me see that brochure.
(Evan hands the brochure to Jeremy.)
Jeremy: Hey we can also see Fantasy at Luxor. Hot naked women...
Nev (interrupting): Sold!!
What can I say? Evan's a lawyer, but Jeremy made a more persuasive argument. :-)
7 p.m. We're eating dinner at Tacos and Tequila at the Luxor. Jeremy orders a shot of Patron Silver tequila for everyone. Now I hardly ever drink. Even in college, I was a light drinker. I had a kahlua and cream over 4th of July weekend that was my first drink in 18 months. So when the shots came, I had to ask Jeremy the following:
Nev: OK, so: What's the order?
Jeremy: You lick the salt off your hand, you down the tequila, and then you bite into the lime.
Nev: OK. Salt, tequila, lime. Salt, tequila, lime.
I take a breath, we hold our shot glasses, and the salt licking, tequila downing and lime biting commences.
(I cough 5-6 times.)
Jeremy: What do you think?
Nev: (coughs) Smooooootttthhhh. (coughs)
(Note: By the time the second shot came around, I was licking the salt, downin' the Patron and biting the lime quicker than anyone at the table. I'm a quick study. LOL)
8 p.m. We've been served all night by a cute little 22-year-old blond waitress named Molly. Near the end of dinner, we start chatting her up. Interestingly enough, it was the married and soon-to-be married guys at the table -- me, Kevin and Jeremy (Joe was meeting us in Vegas the following day) -- who were doing the talking while the vibe-sending single guys stayed quiet. Finally, Carlos spoke during the following exchange:
Nev: So you said you're a student?
Molly: Yeah. I go to UNLV.
Nev: What are you studying?
Molly: Ultrasounds.
Carlos: Oh really? And what are you planning to do with that degree?
(pause)
Molly: Um...ultrasounds.
Jeremy: She's gonna fly jets, Carlos.
It's OK Carlos. Points for trying. :-)
10:30 p.m. -- 11:45 p.m. The Fantasy at Luxor. 75 minutes of nothing but hot naked women on stage
Nev to Carlos: And you wanted to see the Beatles.
Carlos didn't answer. He was in a bit of a daze. But I think my message came through. :-)
SATURDAY
We all meet up for a late breakfast and then meet Joe in the Luxor sportsbook. Joe had come up to Vegas separately with his wife Kristy, who had already planned a trip to Vegas with her friends. All of us are milling around in the sportsbook chatting for a bit when a horrible sin -- a break of a bachelor party by-law -- is committed:
Kristy: Hi Nev. Just wanted to say hello real quick.
Kristy chats me up for a minute and leaves.
Now:
No no no no no. A wife or girlfriend never -- and I mean NEVER -- stops in to say hello during a guy's bachelor party. I mean...no!! It just can't be tolerated.
Nev to Joe: You know you're gonna get %$#@& for that by the guys later, right?
Joe: (sighs) I know, I know.
Suffice to say: The rest of the trip was a bit rough on Joe.
4:30 p.m. We all part ways for a few hours to do our own thing. After finishing second in a poker tournament, I head to my room to get ready for the evening when I get a text from my friend Tiffany. Tiffany's mom, apparently, has come up with a special "bachelor party dare" for me to do.
I accept the challenge.
More on this later. :-)
6:30 p.m. We're all eating dinner at the Rio Around The World Carnival Buffet (my favorite place to eat in Vegas) where, in quick succession, I am given both a double shot of Patron Silver (smoooooottthhhhh) and a Washington Apple, which consists of Canadian whiskey, sour apple schnapps and cranberry juice. As a result, I become a little...out of it. :-) Everything to me is now hysterical, I find myself juggling a Heinz ketchup bottle for my amusement, and in this intoxicated state I participate in the following exchange:
Joe: You know Carlos, you really should go after older white women.
Carlos: Really?
Joe: Definitely. They'll like you.
Nev: OH TOTALLY!!!! (I was a little loud. Remember: I'm a bit looped). Dude, chase after older white women. A lot of them are really hot, and they'll like you because they can fulfill their GARDENER FANTASY!!!!
(dead silence except for me pounding the table in hysterics. I look up at Carlos.)
Nev: See, you're the gardener and...
Carlos: Yeah Nev, I got it. I got it.
I have to sincerely thank Carlos for not kicking the crap out of me right then. That's a true friend. :-)
9:30 p.m. We stop at an Irish pub at New York New York for my traditional bachelor party roasting. Now at these things, you normally get a lot of gag gifts of a sexual nature that are meant to embarrass the hell out of the bachelor. In my case...it was no different. :-) The "highlight" of my gag gifts, by far, was an inflatable sex toy lamb that I was ordered to walk around with in plain sight for the rest of the evening.
Now initially, I was horrified as hell. But I'll tell you something: Women all over the place were coming toward me, wanting to pet my lamb (which I named Molly). I mean, this thing was a conversation starter!! I offered it to the single boys Evan and Carlos for their use -- they declined -- and even whispered to Kevin at one point:
Why the hell didn't we think of this when we were single?
Observe the following exchanges:
Random Hot Blond Girl At The Irish Pub: Oh, I love your lamb!!
Nev: Her name is Molly.
Hot Blond Girl: Aww, that's so cute!! You named her?
Nev: Would you like to dance with us?
Hot Blond Girl: Sure!!
See? :-)
And later:
Another Random Hot Girl: Hey nice lamb.
Nev: Thanks!! We just met tonight.
Another Random Hot Girl: Yeah, I recently bought an inflatable beaver. Want to come up to my room later and see?
I politely declined -- I'm a one-woman guy -- but I'm telling you, my single guy readers:
Inflatable lamb.
It'll change your life.
:-)
10:30 p.m. - Midnight. My boys got me tickets to see Zumanity, the nude Cirque du Soleil show. Kevin, Jeremy and I had actually seen it before -- at Kevin's bachelor party in 2007 -- but since it involves hot naked girls bending in ways never before seen, I wasn't complaining. LOL Besides:
We had third-row seats!!
As a result, we had a bird's eye view (pun intended) of my favorite part of the show: Two hot Asian chicks frolicking in a large water bowl.
The women jump in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women jump out of the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women go back in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women lift their legs high.
Nev: THEY'RE BENDING!!! (holds my lamb in triumph)
My bachelor party was better than Kevin's. I apologized to him. He accepted.
And finally:
12:15 a.m.
You remember that dare? :-)
Earlier in the night, I asked Kevin to be sure to bring his camera as it had a function to record videos. I call everyone in for a huddle in the middle of the New York New York slot machines:
Nev: OK listen up. I'm gonna start playing some slots. Kevin, you stay behind me and start filming. Everyone else, just stay back. Kev, no matter what happens, you keep filming!! And guys: If you see security coming, squawk like eagles.
Worry permeated on everyone's faces. Nonetheless, I had accepted the challenge.
I start playing the slots. A minute later:
Nev: Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD!!! I WON!!! I WON!!! I WON I WON I WON!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!! I DID IT!!! I DID IT!!! I HIT THE JACKPOT!!!!
(I high-five the old ladies to the right of me.)
(I give Evan a bear hug.)
(I high-five the blackjack players to the left of me.)
(I leap into Joe's arms and raise my arm like I just won the Super Bowl. That part looks especially good on video).
(I run back into the middle of the slots)
Random Casino Patron: How much did you win?
Nev: I WON A DOLLAR!!!
(people stop cheering)
Nev: A DOLLAR!!!
(cheering has not re-commenced)
Nev: And in today's economy, that means something!!
(dead silence)
Nev: Thank you, and I now return you to your regularly schedule gambling.
By this point, people were pissed. No matter. We got it on video, my boys thought it was hysterical, and besides:
It was a double dog dare.
:-)
We ended the night by heading to the coffee shop for a quick bite to eat. By 2 a.m., everyone else had gone to bed. Me? I stayed up to gamble for a while, winning $350 playing cash poker and 3-card poker before turning in at about 4:30 a.m., my head pounding, my throat dry and the biggest smile spreading over my face.
My bachelor party.
The most fun I had had in a long time.
Vegas baby.
Vegas.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Next Thursday, Aug. 6, I turn 30.
Any guess as to what next week's blog topic will be about? :-)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Bachelor Party. Las Vegas. Need I Say More? A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
When I got engaged last August, one of the first things I did was tell one of my best friends Kevin the good news.
And Kevin -- one of my oldest friends, who has seen me through many ups and downs in my life (and vice versa), and who has met the love of his life and gotten married himself during the course of our friendship -- proceeded to ask me one of the most important questions that a good friend asks upon hearing the news that one of his closest buddies is planning to tie the knot:
Bachelor party in Vegas?
And that's why he's my best man. :-)
As I write this blog, I am mere hours away from joining Kevin and four other good buddies to participate in a tradition that has spanned across the world throughout the generations. The bachelor party: A chance for a man about to get married to enjoy one last romp of single-dom; to drink, to gamble, to see naked women, to be stupid in general with his equally stupid friends.
All to celebrate the fact that I'm pledging my love to a single woman for the rest of my life.
It makes no sense. None whatsoever. And it's OK. Because it's a bachelor party!! It's supposed to be mindless!!
And this weekend, it's all about ME!!!!!!!
I'm a little excited. :-)
The bachelor party. My father before me, and my grandfather before him, are among the many men who have participated in this ritual of rituals. I've heard their bachelor party stories, seen the light shine in the oldest of eyes as they retell the stories of their own bachelor party experiences. I've even been a member of the experience, but always on the outside looking in, someone planning it rather than living it.
And now, it's my turn. Men young and old, living and deceased, all waiting for me to join this prestigious fraternity, ready to say: "Welcome, brother. This is your moment."
I'll just admit it right now: I'm gettin' misty. And I'm not ashamed.
Know this about me:
I consider myself a nice guy. I try to be a good person. I do my best to be a good friend, a good fiancee, someone who listens and tries not to judge. I was never into wild parties, drugs, or heavy drinking. I was a good student in school and have worked professionally since I was 17. I never caused my parents any real trouble and have done my best to become a responsible adult.
I guess what I'm saying is:
I've earned the right to act like a %$#*&^$# idiot for a couple of days. :-)
Bachelor party in Vegas?
Could we possibly have it anywhere else?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Are you Jewish and have a need to pray at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, but can't because it costs too much?
Well fear not!!
The Western Wall now has its own address on Twitter, allowing believers around the globe to have their prayers placed between its 2,000 year-old-stones without leaving their armchairs.
Isn't that nice?
If that ain't a Sign Of The Apocalypse, I don't know what is.
And Kevin -- one of my oldest friends, who has seen me through many ups and downs in my life (and vice versa), and who has met the love of his life and gotten married himself during the course of our friendship -- proceeded to ask me one of the most important questions that a good friend asks upon hearing the news that one of his closest buddies is planning to tie the knot:
Bachelor party in Vegas?
And that's why he's my best man. :-)
As I write this blog, I am mere hours away from joining Kevin and four other good buddies to participate in a tradition that has spanned across the world throughout the generations. The bachelor party: A chance for a man about to get married to enjoy one last romp of single-dom; to drink, to gamble, to see naked women, to be stupid in general with his equally stupid friends.
All to celebrate the fact that I'm pledging my love to a single woman for the rest of my life.
It makes no sense. None whatsoever. And it's OK. Because it's a bachelor party!! It's supposed to be mindless!!
And this weekend, it's all about ME!!!!!!!
I'm a little excited. :-)
The bachelor party. My father before me, and my grandfather before him, are among the many men who have participated in this ritual of rituals. I've heard their bachelor party stories, seen the light shine in the oldest of eyes as they retell the stories of their own bachelor party experiences. I've even been a member of the experience, but always on the outside looking in, someone planning it rather than living it.
And now, it's my turn. Men young and old, living and deceased, all waiting for me to join this prestigious fraternity, ready to say: "Welcome, brother. This is your moment."
I'll just admit it right now: I'm gettin' misty. And I'm not ashamed.
Know this about me:
I consider myself a nice guy. I try to be a good person. I do my best to be a good friend, a good fiancee, someone who listens and tries not to judge. I was never into wild parties, drugs, or heavy drinking. I was a good student in school and have worked professionally since I was 17. I never caused my parents any real trouble and have done my best to become a responsible adult.
I guess what I'm saying is:
I've earned the right to act like a %$#*&^$# idiot for a couple of days. :-)
Bachelor party in Vegas?
Could we possibly have it anywhere else?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Are you Jewish and have a need to pray at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, but can't because it costs too much?
Well fear not!!
The Western Wall now has its own address on Twitter, allowing believers around the globe to have their prayers placed between its 2,000 year-old-stones without leaving their armchairs.
Isn't that nice?
If that ain't a Sign Of The Apocalypse, I don't know what is.
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