There's something special about this time of year that really gets my blood pumping! It's probably just all the allergens affecting my blood pressure, but I'll pretend like it's because I give a damn about this year's NHL playoff picture. After all, with the upcoming CBA expiration I don't expect to be seeing any hockey next season. I think I'll root for the Nashville Predators. They're not toooo far from here, I hate Detroit (their opponent in the first round of the playoffs) and my Canes didn't make the playoffs, so why not?

Some friends were talking about sports on a message board I frequent, and someone mentioned that hockey sucked to watch on tv. I took it upon myself to enlighten him. After all, hockey only sucks if you don't know the rules or if have crappy reception-- I don't even like sports and I love hockey! I suggested they enjoy some playoff hockey, but first commit the following to memory:

This should help you "get" hockey.

There are three main rules in hockey that cause a stoppage in play.

1. The puck sent the length of the rink (to delay play) is "icing."

2. The puck must move into the zone before the attacking player or it is "offside."

3. There are three lines in the middle, the centerline, and the bluelines. This area is the neutral zone. The puck cannot be passed more than half the length of the neutral zone-- a pass that crosses two of those lines is an offside, or a "two line pass."

After that, the other stuff just sort of makes sense. If a player does something bad (and gets caught) they get penalized. Penalties give the other team a man advantage-- the power play. Goalies play their position the entire game. The other positions (three forward, two defense) are changed on the fly; they switch in and out while the puck is in play.

If you lose sight of the puck, look for the guy that has two hands on his stick. He's got it.

I think horoscopes are fun to read. I usually look at them the night of, rather than the morning of, so I can see if any of it applied to my day. Last night, I was looking at my astrology.com horoscope for the day and saw what might be the most accurate horoscope I've ever had:

Pisces - April 13, 2004.
Distraction is your middle name. Maybe you're the one causing all the disturbance. Maybe your attention is all over the map, lured every which way by rogue stimuli and passing whims. Admit that you're built for fun right now, and you'll feel much better. There's nothing in store for you but good times if you can get out of your responsibilities this easily. Maybe you're a slacker, but that doesn't mean you're without a clue. Anyone who talks to you will surely recognize your wisdom. Anyone who passes you by is missing out on the experience of a lifetime.

Romance

You need to reach out and tend to folks outside the confines of your primary relationship.

Technical

Budgeting isn't your strong suit. You'll gladly help someone else spend his or her available funds down to the last dollar. The good news is that you know what things are worth. You have a valuable eye and a golden touch.

That's me, no?

People say Las Vegas is a different kind of city. I'll give them that. With the nickname Sin City, it's no wonder I had a little experience like this. I was walking alone from the Hilton after escaping the Karaoke disaster. The line at the taxi stand was literally out of sight, so I opted to hoof it. I was on my way back for my wife's pajama party and picking my way through the edge of a construction site that had encroached on the road.

Brrrring-brrrrrrring! The sound of a bicycle bell rang out behind me. I glanced over my right shoulder and eased over a bit to the left. A dark-haired girl on a bike rolled up next to me and I started to walk a bit faster. She paced herself at my walking speed and managed to stay upright with only a little wobbliness. "Hey-ey" she says, with a touch of song in her voice.

"Hello, hello," I said politely, although I probably should have ignored her.

"What are you up to?" she inquired.

I replied, "Just headed back to my hotel for the night."

She visibly perked at this. "Oh yeah? Wanna have a good time?"

"My wife is there, and I don't think we're going to need any help having a good time," I said, as I steeled myself for another Atlanta incident (Sorry, that story has to be told in person).

"I bet we could all have a really good time together..." she countered.

"Yeah, but I don’t think our girlfriend would like that." I said, ending the discussion.

"Touche!" she exclaimed, "You have yourself a good time, baby. I'm gonna find some fun of my own!"

She turned left and I watched for a moment as she rode out of site; bell ringing, fishnet clad legs and high heel tennis shoes pedaling in search of another perspective john.

Has this sort of thing happened to anyone else? Is it safe for me to say "Only in Vegas?" or is this another one of those "Only Donnie..." stories?

Just taking a little break from the Vegas recap for The Friday Five!

1. What do you do for a living?

I wear about six different hats at a computer distributor that specializes in industrialized, embedded PCs.

2. What do you like most about your job?

I really enjoy putting my problem solving skills to the test.

3. What do you like least about your job?

Spending hours and hours on the phone with people that either don't plan to buy anything, or are too freaking stupid to figure out something rediculously simple on their own.

4. When you have a bad day at work it's usually because _____...

When I get two or three of those phone calls above, or when I get slammed with multiple tasks from multiple aspects of my job.

5. What other career(s) are you interested in?

Teaching has always fascinated me, but I don't think I have the patience. I would love to write fiction! I think I need to wait a few years and experience a little more life before I try to actually sell any fiction, though.

It looked like we weren't going to make it. Emma wasn't quite ready to go. Alicia had to enter and stamp another seventy bills. I was certain I was forgetting something. A small engine aircraft made an emergency landing on Airport Road, the primary means of entering and exiting Raleigh Durham International Airport. We started out the door at quarter till five. I realized I was missing the itinerary-- I had left it printed out on my desk at the office. Was the flight at seven o'clock sharp, or half past? In which remote lot should we park? What terminal were we supposed to use? Which gate? What was the baggage limitation? Arrgh! We stopped at Alicia's parents' place on the way out so I could print a copy of the itinerary on their printer. My notebook didnt cooperate with their network or their printer. Five minutes after five. Time to go to my office! We made the best possible time to Pittsboro and grabbed the itinerary. My coworkers were shocked, I had left at about 3pm so I would be able to load up and beat rush hour traffic on I-40. I said "No time to explain, or I'll miss my flight!" snagged my itinerary and jumped in the car.

The departure was at seven-forty. We had time, but not much time. Our next stop was not East to Raleigh, but back North to Chapel Hill to drop off Emma with my mother-in-law, Ginger. Alicia skillfully selected back roads through Chatham and Durham county which dropped us off practically across the street from Ginger's office. We had planned to stop to get a bite to eat on the way, but time was growing short. Less than two hours left and we were still twenty or more miles and a metric shit-ton of traffic away from the airport. We somehow managed to arrive with forty-five minutes to spare, catch a shuttle bus from the park and ride lot, get our luggage checked and suck down a cheeseburger from the A&W restaurant next to our gate. We hastily boarded when the call was given, and I found myself in the window seat. It wasn't much of a window seat, since we were at the wing, but it wasn't so bad. Alicia was in the middle, then another fellow about my size, with long brown wavy hair in a pony tail, similarly goateed and mustachioed arrived to sit in the aisle seat. He was holding a copy of RA Salvatore's "Exile." I had in my hand a copy of RA Salvatore's "The Crystal Shard." Strange. I asked him where he was headed and he opened his mouth to say something, shut it, and then said "Oh, just a Billiards show. Fun stuff." Uh huh. I'll see you at the EverQuest Fan Faire, Jack. I can't poke too much fun at him, though. When he asked what brought us to Vegas I said, "Oh, we're planning to meet some friends." Hey... we are planning to meet friends! Two thousand, five hundred fellow recovering, budding and of course, current EQ addicts.

Whoa, hold on there Donnie. I thought you didn't play EQ anymore!

Well, I don't really play EQ anymore, get that notion out of your head this instant. I do have other interests related to the game, though, and my many friends that I met there. I was done with the game last summer, and while I did play a bit in the fall after Alicia's accident, it was more for lack of anything to do than a real, serious interest in the game. I still care about my friends that I met while playing the game, and my extended family of Crimson Tempest. The main reason I don't play anymore is due to the sheer time requirements in order to get anything done in the game. I'd rather spend time with my family and closest friends. I feel more comfortable playing Star Wars Galaxies because you can play for a short period of time and still have fun. EverQuest 2 looks to be that way, but I'm still undecided about playing that one. I'll check out the EQ2 preview tomorrow during the Fan Faire and see what the latest version of that particular game is looking like. Now, back to the story...

Somehow the flight was only four hours and twenty-three minutes long. I was expecting to be in the air for five or more hours, and so did our flight itinerary. Evidently we had some favorable winds. When we disembarked, the first thing we saw were slot machines. Tons of shiny, sparkly, happy slot machines and mindless zombies twitching slightly as they shoved every bit of available currency into the machines. Fun! We decided to skip this, find the nearest bathrooms and hit the baggage claim. As I strolled up to the luggage carousel, our suitcase slid onto the conveyer. I scooped it up and we made for the cab concourse. We found Anna, Craig, Pat and her husband out there and made plans to meet up outside Quarks at the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton.

We checked into our room at the Mardi Gras Inn after the confused clerk tried to figure out how to assign a room. I thought he was new, but it turns out he was just a fecking idiot. I ran into him again this morning, we'll talk about that a bit later. We lugged out bags to the room and spent the next half hour unloading and freshening up. Quarks had closed by the time we arrived, but all our friends were still inside. We explored the Hilton a bit and pissed away ten bucks in some nickel slots, ate a bite at the twenty-four hour cafe at the Hilton, visited a jewelry store with some really gorgeous goods, poked around in a fashion boutique, got mauled by a kilted barbarian, met up with Anna and Eric and headed to Tom's room for some drinks. Captain Morgan, Grey Goose and a two liter bottle of coke went nicely with the company of Anna, Eric, Tom, Lubey, Mish and a couple of other folks that I didn't know beforehand. Alicia decided to call Jenny, and they spoke, then the phone was passed to everyone in the room. After our cell made a circuit of the room, I snagged the phone and chatted with her for a good ten minutes, huddled in the corner with my hand over my other ear so I could hear her over the din of three different conversations happening at once. I would have talked longer, but it was noisy and my ear was hurting really badly so I gave her my love and passed the phone to Alicia to say goodnight. We left shortly afterward and caught a cab back to the Gras and shared a little snuggletime since our pal Andy was arriving Thursday to hang out with us for the weekend.

Interlude: About my ear
Warning: disgusting health stuff here. You might want to skip this paragraph!

If you read my old diaryland journal, or know me pretty well, you have probably heard about my post-Pennsic ear infection and the ruptured eardrum. My ears are pretty sensitive after tons of ear infections as a child. I only hear well out of my left ear. Things sound sort of washed out in my right ear and I can't hear any midrange tones in it. Major changes in pressure play havoc with my inner ear, and this time was no different. Things were a little more different than normal though, because I've had an earache. When I got off the jet Wednesday night, I could not hear clearly. In fact, it was pretty painful. I had a small clue what was happening, so Thursday morning I bought a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the hotel gift shop and used it to irrigate my ear a few dozen times. After an hour or so, and the spectacularly horrifying experience of washing out something that clearly couldn't have fit in there, I could just about hear normally again. Of course, later that night at the Karaoke party, I was rather wishing my hearing was still gone.

Thursday

I stumbled out of bed and fell into my clothes at seven in the morning after Armando called waking Alicia. I was hoping to discover the hotel's continental breakfast, but I didn't quite have it all together yet. I decided to pay a visit to the cafe instead and eat a real breakfast. Strangely enough, the idiot that couldn't figure out how to assign a room for us last night was my host this morning. His eyes were even more glazed over than the night before and he seated me at a table for ten. Then he seated another guy at a table for ten. The same table for ten! Then another. Not too long afterward, nine people showed up for breakfast and they sent all of us to the bar. Well, all of us but me; I got re-seated at a table for four. Evidently I looked like I needed some serious table space. My silver dollar pancakes and sausages arrived in short order, and I wasn't sent to yet another seat, but I was wondering if they were going to ask me to move to the bar when three folks walked up to the host stand. I tipped the waiter, but I decided it was best to stuff the money in his pocket rather than leave it on the table where Fernando the Wonderfuck host could get to it.

After breakfast, I doctored my ear and woke Alicia. If you skipped the second paragraph before this one, just ignore that line. We planned to relax a bit, but we had tons of people stop by our room and call our cell. We agreed to go to the Sahara Buffet with Johnny, Rich, Jay, Beau, Ashley and Tiffany for lunch and to get party supplies. I headed out with Charles, Alyce and Dan to get liquor, beer, mixers and soft drinks for that night's pajama party, but there was a small misunderstanding between Alicia and I and she didn't know where I had gone. We cruised out to the Henderson Costco and bought copious amounts of libations and I returned to a grumpy wife. Oops. She got over my three hour disappearance and I picked up my badges and the birthday gifts provided by SOE for EQ's fifth anniversary. We called Tabby and passed the phone around to all the folks she knew. Aftarward we deliberated for about an hour on where we were going to eat. I returned to the hotel with Alicia to get the punch mixed, then I walked back to the Hilton for the third time since we arrived to check out karaoke at the pre-party.

Karaoke was pretty bad. I got to watch Ruka and Fanther sing a song each, and a few other performances of note. One guy sang a System of a Down song and absolutely nailed it. Another did Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi and could probably replace Jon a la Ripper Owens if the need ever arose. The rest of the songs were as bad as those were good. I couldn't bear much more, so I strolled back to the Mardi Gras for pajama action. Tiffany and Ashley were just arriving, and some of the guys had already showed up, though none were wearing any pajamas just yet. Beau strolled in wearing my silk pajamas, which arrived directly from Thailand a week before and were actually a size too small. They were a little warm, but he sat in front of the air conditioner and did just fine. I changed clothes in the room because no one seemed to be paying attention, and I just don't really care anyway. The first dozen or so at the party seemed pretty dubious of my "Rescue Ranger Punch" (3L Hawaiian Punch, 500mL Bacardi 151, 250mL pineapple juice) but after I passed a cup for a taste test, the first gallon went quickly. Mike mixed the next few batches and made them a bit stronger, but you could hardly taste the alcohol in any of them, so it was all quite good-- and quite dangerous.

My friend Andy arrived as the taste test was going on. We welcomed him to the room and he jumped into his pajamas upon hearing threats of violence by Ashley. He seemed to get along alright with all of my freaky friends, which is no easy task considering exactly how wonderfully freakish they all are. That, of course, is an overstatement. Most of my folks are perfectly normal, except perhaps Rich. Andy and Alicia had a long talk about the rules of the room, since he was staying with us. He said if we needed privacy, just hand him a dollar and tell him to play in traffic. He'd do the same with us if he found someone special. We're so considerate, no?

Interlude: The Italians

These two italian guys showed up just before midnight at the room next door. One put his hand on my shoulder as I stood on the balcony with some friends and said "Ees paltayuh?"
I said "Yeah, we're having a party. Want to come over and have a drink?
"Ahhh, No-uh, we f-f-f-f-fly ahhh italia ahhh ... sis ay em," which means "We have to get up early to fly back to our god forsaken country at six in the morning."

"I will do my best to ask my friends to keep it down. Sleep well, friends," I said. Then I re-entered the room and informed everyone of the situation.

The party raged on until the wee hours of the morning. The wee hours, of course, are when everyone is so incredibly drunk from rescue ranger punch that they are running around on the terrace shouting "Weeeee," which, in turn, causes angry, sleepy italians to run outside of their room making throat slashing motions and describing in stuttering, slurred and broken english how they are going to kill everyone, or call the cops or something. I wasn't quite sure which. Johnny, better known to some as Gohron, saved the day. As my guests dispersed, he headed off the manager and flashed his badge, explaining that the party was over and the situation was under control. The cowed manager returned to the front desk. Thanks, Johnny!

Alicia, Andy and I roamed around the room removing evidence of the party. We dumped ashtrays (and things that had been used as ashtrays), disposed of cans, bottles, cups and anything else that didn't look like it belonged. Andy stepped outside to dispose of the trash. I thought I had seen a dumpster around the corner, but it was a grease dumpster, and these things simply werent going in there. He wandered down the street in his pajamas until he found an appropriate receptacle, while Alicia and I were snuggling discussing whether we should send him out with a buck to play in the street. He got back before we made up our mind, and we settled into bed to get ready for the next day's Live Quest and the party at the Beach. Alicia cracked a joke about getting another call at seven in the morning tomorrow, and just as we stopped laughing, our phone rang. It was Jenny! We talked for almost an hour, and I still didn't tell her everything I wanted to say. She let me know she was still planning to write every day and she missed us lots and lots. Before long, it was time to go. Alicia was very tired and I had been keeping Andy awake too. I promised Jenny I would call her the next day, and asked her to look for us at the Beach webcam. I gave her my love and reluctantly got off the phone. I plugged it back in and kissed Alicia good night. I was asleep the moment I hit the pillow, the happiest I had been since arriving in Sin City.