The answer is yes. I had an eight-some. Myself, Hugh Hefner, and then 3 sets of hot blond twin ho's. H.H. was the conductor. Me at the caboose. Cigars. Patron. And low-brow sexual activity.
This is how I spent my Saturday night. Except without everything I just said.
I did, however, get to the top floor of the Playboy Club in Vegas. How? Well, being white and middle class helps. But of course, a friend of a friend who is a hot girl.
Amidst the bunnies, absurdly priced drinks, intimidating body guards and badass view, I realized something. A year ago, to the day, I was driving out to California in my Jeep Liberty (I race soccer moms on weekends). To LA. With about 8 grand in my pocket, no job, no idea of where I was going to live, a dog in my car, and a close friend whom, at the least, would have a drink before my suicidal realization set in.
Now, I proudly sit here with a somewhat regular income, the same Jeep, the same dog, the same favorite "I ran into a wall" haircut, and the same dream with a more defined path. A little further along. A lot further along.
I still wait for my burnout. A demise where the harsh realities of society kick in, and I decide to grow a gut and attend bowling nights on a regular basis. I'm not the Vegas type either. Throw change at my feet, and I'll pick it up and run fast. Somewhere between college football and song-and-dance.
I'm not always entised, I'm not always stable, but I've got my legs under me at the moment.
What I'm most proud of though...even in the depths of hedonism, I haven't wasted many moments.
I guess that's my goal right now...just don't waste many moments.
Me and Julio (and a line somewhere in there I keep coming back to): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqtX4qZBdRs
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