Well it's snowing like crazy in Taos, and I've only got a few minutes left on my Internet time allotment at the local library, so things will be brief as I've been getting stern looks from the librarians every time I even access something that looks vaguely questionable (another nail in the coffin of my previous librarian fantasy). 
Luckily, the luggage finally arrived and I now have some new clothes to wear and solution for my contacts. I'm still waiting for an apology from American, but I'm not holding my breath.
Despite my reversal of luck, however, I found myself drifting away last night while having drinks at a local bar.
I tend to boast an extremely low tolerance for social obligations that require loads of small talk. These kind of scenarios usually cause me to play a little game with myself titled: What Would I Rather Be Doing
The key is to sip your drink, look intently yet mysteriously at the person leading the conversation and then imagine a list of better alternatives to your present situation.
Last night I came up with places I would rather be that included:
A) Drinking at the same bar alone
B) Cleaning the underside of a walrus
C)Reading a book somewhere on the beach
D)Getting lap dances from Rosie O'Donnell
This was merely a short list, but I would recommend trying this same type of thing the next time you're fed up in a social situation that isn't working for you.
It's not a complete cure, but it beats talking about your job or the weather for hours on end.
-BDS
I can't remember when travel got to be quite so excrutiating, but the entire enerprise is there with a vengence now.
We're a far cry from the romance in the skies that was the time period where "Catch Me If You Can" was set, and customer service is going down faster than Paris Hilton at a New Year's party. 
I know this first-hand as I spent all day bouncing between the Austin and Dallas airports before ultimately getting to Albuquerque (sp?) and then driving onto Taos to ski, hike, eat at Michael's Kitchen, visit in-laws, see some snow and tell gigantic lies about my snowboarding prowess.
But before any of the good things can happen, I'm dealing with this debacle of a journey.
The problems started when the first plane was delayed two hours, which causes a missed connection in Dallas (since there are no direct flights from Austin). Luckily, there was a later flight to Dallas that had a connecting run to New Mexico which saved things slightly.
But once we hit ground in New Mexico, all 3 bags were lost somewhere along the way and are currently on the road via shuttle to Taos (supposedly).
The lack of decency and remorse from virtually everyone associated with American Airlines was staggering. The general attitude was "sorry our planes are late, you have no luggage and nothing has worked out as planned, but what do you want us to do about it?"
The days of easy travel are dead and gone. In their place, surly attendants and do-nothing baboons have sprouted up to fill the void.
This rant is nothing new, however, it still feels good to get it off my chest and my only hope is that some underwear and my contact lens solution arrives tonight.
Dare to dream.
-BDS
{This is the fifth of what will be a recurring series that will only happen when I have consumed far too many spirits with my brother. Last night, we shared a few bottles of Christmas wine with my Dad which triggered strange thoughts, candid insights and pure horseshit. Selah.}
* Any drink with an umbrella in it should only be consumed at a beach-front bar and even then only if the woman you're sitting with is drinking the same. 
* I never understood the idea of taking the bull by the horns because that seems like one of the worst possible places to grab a charging bull. Those things are extremely sharp.
* If someone exclaims "Man that stinks. Take a whiff" - Don't do it.
* You can definitely argue that Christmas has morphed into this consumer-driven, vapid holiday that leaves everyone miserable - but I still love it. 
Where else can you combine great food and presents outside of Chuck E. Cheese?
* I've always liked the thought of a sexy librarian who stocks books by day, reads the great philosphers by afternoon and then at night gets buck wild beneath the Dewey Decimal System. But I've come to the conclusion after years of research that this seems to bear little resemblance to reality.
* It's a good idea to keep your pubic hair shaved high and tight, but only porn stars and infants are completely hairless (this doesn't apply to females).
* If I were an animal I would be a bald eagle because I think it would be a pretty good gig to be rare, revered and be able to fly. 
* It seems like everyone should have sex on a bear-skin rug at least once in a lifetime. Preferably it would be a white rug and it would belong to someone else. 
That seems like all the thoughts that should occur around Christmas, so I hope everyone has a hell of a good holiday, stay safe and open as many presents as possible.
Let's hope one of those boxes contains some Advil. Ho. Ho. Ho.
-BDS
"Where are you going to put a tree that big Griswold?
Bend over - I'll show you," - Chevy Chase, "Christmas Vacation" 
Well, our presents are bought and we're headed where the Internet doesn't roam, but before that happens, let's hit some highlights from the week before Christmas.
The week's big brouhaha was between Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump who pulled no punches in ripping on each other. 
O'Donnell started things by saying:
"He annoys me on a multitude of levels. He's the moral authority? Left the first wife, had an affair, left the second wife, had an affair. Had kids both times, but he's the moral compass for 20-year-olds in America. . .
"He inherited a lot of money, wait a minute, and he's been bankrupt so many times where he didn't have to pay. ... I just think that this man is sort of like one of those, you know, snake oil salesmen in 'Little House on the Prairie.'"
Trump responded with:
"Well Rosie is a loser. Rosie’s been a loser for a long time. Her magazine failed. She got sued. She folded up like a tent. It was too bad.
"Everything about Rosie, and I watch her — and actually somebody sent me a clip of what she said — Rosie is somebody out of control who really just doesn’t have it. And she ought to be careful cause I’ll send one of my friends to pick up her girlfriend, and I think it would be very easy."
This is a hard fight to call as I have a difficult time rooting for either one of them, so I merely hope they keep the mud-slinging coming because it's a damn sight more entertaining than "The View" and "The Apprentice" put together.
Carmel Sloane, a 29-year-old blonde, claimed this week that Mel Gibson impregnated her mother back in wilds of Australia in 1976 and now Sloane wants to meet the actor/director whom she believes to be her father. 
"I'm not doing it for his money," Carmel said. "I just want to meet the man I've always known was my dad - and for him to get to know his grandson."
This seems like an odd time to reach out to Gibson, however, as long as Sloane isn't Jewish, it seems possible that Mad Max might meet with her and then pay her off to go far, far away.
The accolades for Britney Spears keep piling up as she was voted the title of World's Worst Celebrity Dog Owner in an online poll of readers of Hollywood Dog and New York Dog magazines.
"Britney was the overwhelming choice," editor Hilary O'Hagan said in a statement. "She once had three Chihuahuas and never left home without at least one of them on her arm. As soon as she met K-Fed and had kids, they disappeared."
I'm not so worried about her dogs disappearing because I think her dignity will be even harder to replace.
Model and wannabe actress Tawny Kitaen entered a drug rehabilitation program after pleading guilty to possessing 15 grams of cocaine. She had previously been charged with felony drug possession after sheriff's deputies said they found cocaine in her apartment.
It's a sad state of affairs when you enter rehab and the most notable thing you've done is gyrate around on the hood of a car driven by members of Whitenake. Then again, she was in "Bachelor Party" and that was a hell of a good movie, so things could be worse I suppose.
Sharon Stone and Christian Slater have confirmed rumors they're dating and now plan to spend Christmas together.
I have nothing much to add except this coupling seems about right they both seem to be on the same level of lewd and perverted behavior and both of the actors seem to work the same hours - i.e. sparingly - so I think this might just work out.
Since it's nearly Christmas, let's end with a happy Santa image, which I hope will bring me good karma when opening my gifts this year:
That looks even better than milk and cookies, and here's hoping everyone has a great holiday. Ho, ho, ho . . . and Happy Friday!
-BDS
Someone recently asked me: If you could live in any time period past or present which one would it be?
An interesting question. I gave it some thought (roughly 5 minutes or so) and decided that I would be a Roman during the height of their empire. The reasons were surface-level and quite hedonistic. I felt no need to get high-minded or philosophical when all I wanted to do was:
A) Wear a toga around day and night
B) Enjoy feasts all the time where the food and drink were plentiful
C) Partake in the decadent orgies to work off the food and drink
D) Soak my fevered flesh in the public/private baths all over the city
I would leave the diddling of young boys and the intense vomiting to others as I could look past these things to find my own path among the Romans.
That sounds like a pretty good life on a dreary day in Austin.
-BDS
It's been a classy week as we near the holidays, and role models are hard to find amongst all the boozing, drugs, kissing and stripper poles.
The downward spiral started with Miss USA, Tara Conner, who nearly was stripped of her crown due to sheer debauchery, some of which she allegedly shared with her younger roommate Miss Teen USA, Katie Blair.
Blair, 18, and the 20-year-old Conner have been spotted guzzling drinks like sailors and making out on couches at ultra-trendy clubs, thus bringing shame to their respective pageants and putting their titles in jeopardy.
But Donald Trump refused to de-tiara Connor and chalked it up to getting "caught up in the whirlwind that is New York."
Conner, who also supposedly failed a drug test for cocaine, was ordered into rehab and fought back tears at the announcement while she thanked The Donald profusely. 
I am a firm believer in second chances (especially when it comes to extremely good-looking women with questionable morals), but my main concern was with all the cell phone cameras, paparazzi, etc. how could nobody get pictures of the titillating tiara twins drunkenly making out like wildebeasts?
When our moral pillars of virtue fail us, the only where to look for a life raft is . . . Lindsay Lohan who continued her deranged behavior this week by spending time with strippers while researching an upcoming role. 
This has obviously been a trying time for Lindsay, who has a bad habit of sending bizarre and grammatically-challenged emails to her friends like this one:
"They're all whores, they're all whores . . . xcept for some obviously! So . . . 3 hours of pole dancing and bruised. everywhere . . . I mean we're talkin' like, UPPER AND INNER THIGH ACTION-bruised . . . like a walking black-and-blue mark. I mean really though, really, I didn't know it was actually possible to have bruises in such areas of the body. Strippers dude, I tell you, I really respect the cunts now. . . I'm not gonna lie to ya."
Maybe Lindsay, Tara and Blair should start hanging out together to combine their intellects and flair for late-night partying into one supreme residence of uncontrollable class.
At the very least, I hope someone would take some pictures of the proceedings.
-BDS
{This is the fifth in a recurring series which will explore the brutally complex concept of monogomy in increasingly outlandish scenarios. We hope these will be illuminating what-if scenarios, and that they will cultivate some intense philosophical discussions around what, if anything, really constitutes cheating.}
Is It Really Cheating If: 
You're traveling through Europe, and when you reach the South Coast of France, you find yourself walking along the stone beach in Nice late one night.
The clubs have just emptied when you make eyes with a native French vixen who doesn't turn away. She joins you for the rest of your walk as you don't speak French and she doesn't speak English. She also doesn't laugh when you tell her that although your fluency in French is poor, you do kiss that way.
The night ends with some mutual pawing and then her hands find their way into your pants for a manual release as the waves slap the beach and your eyes are closed and you're thinking about nothing at all.
By the time you fly back home to the States you barely recall the encounter, and since it was a foreign country and neither of you spoke the same language and you kept your eyes closed during the actual act:
Is this cheating?
-BDS
"It never got weird enough for me," - Hunter S. Thompson
So I got tagged to list 6 weird things about myself, and since my mind was running on empty this weekend, it seemed like a good enough idea for a post.
Weird is an extremely relative term. We all have own own peculiar habits, and it is both the quantity and the sheer brute strength of our own personal strangeness which provides the ultimate test in just how long others can hang around us without going crazy themselves.
Anyway, here's my list:
1) I hate cutting my toenails, and had my Mom cut them until I was nearly 17-years-old when she finally rebelled and forced me to take the reigns. This doesn't mean that I won't cut my toenails or that I let them get long, gnarly and dangerous, however, I still loathe this entire process. 
2) For a brief period in early high school, I decided that I wanted to be like Steven Seagal. This was around the time of his "Hard to Kill," "Marked For Death," and "Under Siege" fame. Luckily, my hair would not cooperate in growing into a pony-tail thus averting what would have been some truly horrible pictures. Small favors. 
3) I have an obsessive thing with the number 3 and all it's deriviatives. I can't remember exactly why I think this number holds power, but that doesn't stop me from stopping sets in the gym at 9 or 15 reps or pumping gas into my car and then turning off the register at something like $21.33. A bit strange. 
4) During my junior year of college I got in the habit of waking up by fixing a big bowl of cereal and then eating it in the bathtub. I was taking a bath at the same time (not merely sitting in an empty bathtub eating cereal) and I did this for many months before ultimately giving it up for hygiene issues as the time management aspect just couldn't overcome the fact that I was eating inside a bathtub and then sitting my empty bowl on the toilet seat. 
5) I skipped my Homecoming Day at High School to catch the first showing on the first day that "Pulp Fiction" was released. I later went to the game/dance/etc. but this was at the beginning of my Tarantino craze and the theater that I saw it at featured one old guy by himself who seemed to really enjoy The Gimp scene a little too much. 
6) I started shaving my legs for a few fitness photo shoots last year after the casting director suggested it. It's been nearly a year since the last one, but I'm still shaving the bastards smooth for reasons I can't entirely explain.
-BDS
"On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone," - Kris Kristofferson - "Sunday Morning Coming Down"
Sundays have never agreed with us.
There's something about that day that usually finds us feeling worn-down, hung-over, downtrodden & disillusioned with a strong case of the blues.
Kristofferson knew what he was talking about in that song as Sundays are about as useful as pennies or the career of Joe Rogan.
To ward off these kinds of feelings, here's some images that seem vaguely uplifting or at least a few items to remind us of something better than paying bills or nursing hangovers.
So watch football, go to church, do laundry, read a book or whatever you choose to do on Sundays because 2 Dollar Productions needs a break to re-charge the creative engines and hit the ground running on Monday.
And with that in mind, check back tomorrow for some actual content which will stay away from self-indulgent whining.
Damn you Sunday.
-BDS & JWS
{Editor's Note: This is a semi-regular series of high-water mark performances that spans movies, television, books and life its ownself.}
If there was ever a high point for wish-fulfillment adventure movies, "The Goonies" would certainly be at the top of my list. 
I love that movie. I enjoyed it immensely as a kid, and unlike some childhood things that you shed as you grow older, "The Goonies" has never lost its luster for me as I have the DVD sitting in my current collection.
In college, my roommate and I used to hold 'Goonies & Gumbys' nights where we would order a 20 inch pizza from Gumbys and watch as the Goonies banded together in an effort to find One-Eyed Willy's treasure and save their house. 
"The Goonies" was a pure product of the 80s with a cast of future stars that included Josh Brolin ("Hollow Man", "Into the Blue"), Sean Astin ("Rudy", "Lord of the Rings"), and Corey Feldman ("The Lost Boys", "The 'Burbs"). The gang was rounded out by an Asian gadget expert, Data, and the token fat kid, Chunk, who invented the classic "truffle shuffle."
This film pulled elements from everything that I wish would happen to me as it featured:
A) Hidden treasure on a pirate ship
B) A treasure map filled with riddles
C) Booby Traps
D) Perilous passageways filled with danger to hide the buried treasure
E) No adults around to screw things up
There was also a phenomenal cast of villains that featured that hideously ugly woman from "Throw Mama From the Train" chasing the Goonies with her two dipshit sons in tow. The movie also introduced one of cinema's most iconic misunderstood characters in the monstrosity that was Sloth.
Sloth is first seen chained up in a basement, and is scary as hell as this poor bastard was obviously beaten daily with the ugly stick while growin up. We later learn that Sloth is actually a gentle giant who befriends Chunk over their mutual love of Rocky Road ice cream and Baby Ruths, which are food choices that can always be counted on to bring people together. 
I won't ruin the ending for anyone who hasn't seen this classic, but it is a fitting conclusion to a movie that still holds value for me because I would trade a lot of things in my life to be chasing after pirate treasure with a group of friends beneath the city. 
This same belief was true for the movie's prettiest girl, who chooses to stay with the Goonies despite the danger they face. The town's resident scumbag can't believe she turns down his invitation to take her away from it all, and chastises her by screaming "Andy - You Goonie!"
We should all be so lucky.
-BDS
" . . . Like a blind man at an orgy, I was going to have to feel my way around," - Leslie Nielsen, "Naked Gun 2 1/2"
It's starting to feel like Christmas in Austin despite the temperatures reaching into the 70s this week. The combination of work and holiday shopping can beat anyone down and easily cause slippage concerning important events in our universe.
This obviously means that it's time for a Cliff Notes version to keep everyone in touch.
Mariah Carey, possibly fearing a sudden slip in album sales and personal fortune which would cause her to start making low-budget pornography, will reportedly take legal action against a similarly named porn star to prevent her from trademarking the similar name 'Mary Carey'.
"It's kind of funny because I'm a porn star and I've been being myself for a long time. I think she's being silly," said Mary Carey.
Mariah has been accused of far worse than being silly, and although I can't say I would whole-heartedly endorse a potential foray into the adult world for the deep-voiced diva, I do have a morbid fascination in watching it.
Nicole Richie was arrested this week on suspicion of DUI, and allegedly told police she was on dope and painkillers at the time she was driving on the wrong side of the freeway. 
How Richie thought her 86 lb. frame could stand driving on that concoction I have no idea, and it's unclear whether she will advise her attorney to use the patented "But Paris did it first" defense at her upcoming hearing.
For die-hard Rosie O'Donnell fans out there, Ebay recently auctioned an XL teddy that the actress wore during the filming of "Exit to Eden." 
This sounds like the perfect Xmas gift for that person you really loathe this holiday season.
Paris Hilton gave an interview this week, and defended the "party ethics" of her new best friend, Britney Spears.
This just shows how far Spears continues to fall because when you have Paris Hilton making an ethical case for you, things have definitely taken a turn for the worse.
Joseph Francis, founder and CEO of the "Girls Gone Wild" series was ordered to do 30 months of community service in Florida for the failure of his company to create and maintain age and identity documents for performers in his films. 
Francis tried to argue that it's difficult to check IDs when you're pouring booze down the throats of 18-year-old girls and then having groups of guys yell "Show us your tits."
You can only do so many things at once I suppose.
With all the red and green and gold colors this time of year, let's shake things up and end with a gorgeous image in blue: 
So, rev up your engines, trample any shopper that stands between you and your prize and . . . Happy Friday!
-BDS
If your looking for the very definition of blandness, you would need to look no further than the Ford Taurus. 
I've always said that owning a Taurus is on my list of things I will never do in this or any other lifetime. But now I'm driving around in a pale blue one because my car had to go back to the shop yesterday.
My increased testosterone count from the Plasma TV has been horribly reversed by this sudden development as I can feel poor Stanley crawling into his shell like a frightened tortoise every time I set foot in the Taurus. 
I realize that you are not what you drive as that's extremely shallow and no way to judge anything about a person. That knowledge, however, doesn't help me with this Taurus situation which violates an ideal I once held sacred.
Unfortunately, there were no other options with Hertz as I pleaded with their representative, and was coolly informed that this sensible sedan was the only car they had available in their whole fleet.
I muttered something about how "I bet Enterprise has other options," but that didn’t win me any points either.
Oh well, with any luck it's only for a few days as I should have my car back by the end of the week. We'll see how long it takes for my masculinity to return as it can be a slippery slope when you start caving on positions you've cherished for many years.
But as long as I don't start wearing men's capris or begin taking cell phone calls on the toilet then I should be able to retain my personal equilibrium.
-BDS
For those counting at home, that's a 50-inch erection which would shame Tommy Lee, make pogo-sticking virtually impossible and force me to wrap my unlawful appendage around my body like a skin belt in order to venture into public.
Obviously, this is an exaggeration (at least by 40 inches or so), but the beautiful men from Best Buy delivered my new 50-inch Plasma to me last night, and my joy is barely containable. 
{Editor's Note: My TV did not come with a smiling Asian woman when it was delivered to my place. Damn.}
This event unfolded after my old TV blew its lamp shortly after putting my car into the shop (why does everything break all at once) and instead of pouring $350 into buying a new piece for the old TV, I used it as an excuse to give myself an early birthday present and once I found out that Best Buy was running a 3-year no interest promotion, the deal was done.
I know that gadgets and TVs in particular can be construed as signs of blatant insecurity and pure greed. I call bullshit on that logic, however, as I simply love these shiny devils with something akin to pure ectasy.
Watching sports in HDTV or DVDs with the color levels exploding is something that I appreciate every single time. I'm not trying to cement my manhood to my caveman buddies - I simply want to see every contour and exposed ribcage during the Victoria's Secret fashion show.
I don't think that's too much to ask, and I have a powerful urge to throw "Miami Vice" into the DVD player tonight because the color saturation in that film is ridiculously good. 
It's either that or "Forrest Hump," which would be tested on my new set for entirely different reasons.
-BDS
