Dog Days

Hollywood has slipped into the do-nothing dog days of summer-- a place where, frankly, I'm very comfortable. The streets of Beverly Hills are overrun with tourists ferried in by the double-decker busload. The corn-fed, fanny-packing midwesterners in bad Wal-Mart shorts, the backpacker guidebook-toting Eurotrash, and the hordes of Japanese all posing for photos outside the awful faux-Italian architecture of One Rodeo will, until Labor Day, compete with the usual cast of botoxed trophy wives, leathery old-school BH dames and emaciated sitcom stars for sidwalk space. Up a dozen stories in my little world, I'm quietly rejoycing that over the course of the next two weeks, all four VPs plus the big man are taking some serious vacation time, so it'll just be us kids running the joint. It just means more time for insane prop bets and no-limit freezeouts with my PAs and skipping out early for a little No-Limit at Hollywood Park. In fact, it's 3:30 right now and I'm already planning my 4 PM lap around the office to make sure the coast is clear enough to slip away for the tables.

So if everyone's gone, what the fuck am I doing here? It's not for lack of trying. And it's not like I'd go anywhere but Vegas. So, with room rates falling as fast as the temperature rises in the Nevada desert, I thought I'd check it out and propose it to Showcase. Witness the following email conversation

ME: The thought of Vegas did make me run & check hotel rates on Expedia. $90 a night for MGM Grand 8/31-9/1??????lets???ditch?????work?????????

SHOWCASE: if you were to go with me....my car would break down on the way....the room would have been given away by the time we finally got to the hotel and everything would be sold out except for the excalibur...you'd lose everytime you got pocket rockets...and all the coke would be stolen by a joan rivers impersonator.

Pussy.

Though he's probably right. Showcase's luck has been running even further afoul than my little losing streak. First the burglary. Then a health crisis for his mom. Then a horrible debacle with his new DV camera that ended with him smashing it to bits on the living room floor (a tape got stuck inside and the douchebag authorized repair guy told him it would cost more than the camera is worth to take it apart and fix the problem...so he got it out himself). Then the fact that his new(ish) commercial agent hasn't sent him out all month. Then this, just hours ago:

AIM IM with Showcase

Showcase: hey
Me: yo
Showcase: i swear to god
i woke up in such a good mood today
Me: i heard you singing
Showcase: slept really well....happy to be alive....thinking positive thoughts
and as i'm driving up (our street) to olympic some jackass open his car door right as i'm driving by and slams it into my car
Me: WHAT
Me: are u ok?
Showcase: yeah....and my car is too
Showcase: it just really hit my side mirror
Showcase: but seriously....i couldn't even get 100 yards from home without something happening....seriously....we need to go to china town and find some witch doctor with live chickens and shit

So if you know a good Shaman or Exorcist, seriously, let us know. We've tried feng shui, burning sage, and some sort of Brazilian good luck rattle. It's all for shit. But I'm really starting to subscribe to the theory that luck does run in streaks.

3:54 now. Six minutes until my walk. I also just noticed that my Phil Gordon DVD just arrived in my inbox. Man that was fast. You trying to tell me something, Phil? (That hand is still eating at me, BTW).