It's always a draining experience entertaining houseguests for a weekend.
This task becomes exponentially harder, however, when those same guests view a weekend in Austin through the eyes of their first adults-only vacation away from their son, who is nearly two years old. And while my mind can certainly wrap itself around blowing off steam, it's the body which can only be pushed so far before it rebels.
Ignoring the physiological ramifications, this past weekend was an utter success. The weather was perfect. Traffic was still manageable ahead of the South by Southwest madness. Nobody got hurt.
Unfortunately, the ramifications of an all-day drinking session followed by an all-night concert can no longer be easily shaken off. When you couple the latter with losing an hour of sleep due to Daylight Savings Time, you create a recipe for physical disaster that I am still paying for as I sit in my office and drink coffee this morning.
Things began to turn sideways almost immediately after work on Friday. I slipped out early to meet my wife and our friends at a wine bar downtown around 4 p.m. This was only a brief stop-over before we navigated our way to an Irish pub a few blocks over where we set up shop for several hours. 
Many rounds of Guinness were ordered and consumed as my brother and other people stopped by. At some point we decided it would be far cheaper to retire to the loft, so we split into factions with very specific tasks:
1) Get a ton of barbecue - brisket, sausage, potato salad, turkey, ribs, beans, bread and sauce
2) Get red wine to match the barbecue
3) Get cases of Shiner Bock
4) Chill 2 bottles of champagne
Luckily, everyone could be trusted and everyone kept their end of the bargain. So, we ended up running through pounds of barbecue and mixing some brutal drinking combinations to accompany the food. It started with red wine, progressed to champagne and ended up with Shiner Bock over the course of the next six hours and only ended when the last drop of alcohol that remained was a lonely Spaten bottle that had been sitting in the back of my refrigerator for nearly a year. 
Ugly.
I am no longer equipped for all-day drinking bouts. By midnight, simply walking up and down my stairs was a journey which required extreme preparation and I knew that mistakes had been made. The next day was nearly unbearable as the sun shined brightly, and I felt like a poisonous bullfrog had died in my mouth sometime during the night.
After consuming two breakfast tacos and a vat of Cuban coffee, we decided the only reasonable thing to do was to sweat some of the toxins out during a 5-mile walk around the lake. This masochistic activity nearly beat me and I only considered hurling myself into the lake ten or twelve times during the trek. 
Everybody made the course, however, and after taking them for a celebratory lunch of chicken fried steak and cream gravy, we went back to loft and napped for several hours.
Then, it was time to get ready for The Scabs concert at Antone's, a semi-famous Austin club near Sixth Street. I still felt like hell, but rallied as we spent the next five hours standing, dancing and drinking at the show. When the set ended at 2 a.m., we realized it was actually 3 a.m. due to the time shift, a piece of knowledge that depressed everyone in my car and seemed monumentally unfair. 
I haven't abused myself like that for a long time, and it seemed like utter bullshit that the universe would chose to punish me so suddenly by stealing away another hour. It was instant karma.
Nobody got to bed until after 4 a.m. due to the consumption of the remaining barbecue, and I spent yesterday changing clocks and cursing myself - more specifically my body - for betraying me when I needed it the most.
"I've given you years off of doing this kind of thing, and this is how you repay me?" was my mantra, a sentiment which fell on deaf ears.
Now, it's Monday morning and pouring rain in Austin. My head feels swollen and the clock in my car remains an hour behind the times.
I desperately need a weekend to recover from my weekend.
-BDS
"You are one ugly motherfucker," - Arnold Schwarzenegger, "Predator"
The weather is shaping up nicely for the weekend, which is stellar because I've got friends coming in town to stay with me. In general, I'm not wild about houseguests, but I do enjoy seeing people I like, so sometimes sacrifices must be made.
But before I start playing tour guide around Austin, let's take a look at the important stories of the week such as:
Four upcoming stops on Van Halen's reunion tour have been postponed due to an unidentified illness currently afflicting frontman Eddie Van Halen, concert promoter Live Nation announced Monday.
According to Eddie's physician, "he is undergoing a battery of comprehensive medical tests to determine a defined diagnosis and recommended medical procedures."
His physician later added that he wasn't optimistic for a Van Halen recovery because "there's no medicine available for dealing with an egomaniacal jackass like David Lee Roth."
Producers announced that David Hernandez will remain on "American Idol," despite his past as a male stripper at Dick's Cabaret in Phoenix.
"We've had strippers on the show before," executive producer Ken Warwick was quoted on Tuesday as telling the Web site TVGuide.com. "We're never judgmental about people who do things like that. If it were some sort of heavy porn, then maybe we'd have to take action. But certainly not on this."
Paula Abdul made a personal plea for Hernandez to stay in the competition, and he is currently greased and tied to her bedpost when he's not on camera as his part of the bargain.
Lou Pearlman, the music mogul who launched the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync, has agreed to plead guilty and make restitution to victims swindled out of an estimated $300 million in phony bank and investment schemes, U.S. prosecutors said on Tuesday.
The charges carry a maximum of 25 years in prison and a $1 million fine.
In my opinion, Pearlman should be fined $10 million alone for bringing the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync into existence.
Lindsay Lohan's mom, Dina Lohan, announced that she will headline her own reality show on the E! network this week.
The new program - "Living Lohan" - will give viewers the chance to watch Dina shepherd Ali Lohan, 14, into a show business career as the show will "follow Dina as she works double duty as mom and manager to help Ali try to follow in her big sister's famous footsteps."
In preparation, Dina Lohan has already bought Ali a case of Greg Goose Vodka as well as a backstage pass to clubs around town. Ali will also have no curfew.
Kate Beckinsale revealed this week that her best attribute is known as "Pharaoh's Tomb" - a self-described monikor for her nether regions.
Beckinsale says, "My best feature is unfortunately a private matter, although I'm told it is spectacular. But you can't really walk it down the red carpet. What can I say?"
I'd love to get Beckinsale in a room, and put "Walk Like An Egyptian" by the Bangles on repeat until the Tomb was revealed.
Britney Spears' father will retain control over the troubled pop star's personal and business affairs until July 31, a court spokesman said on Thursday.
Jamie Spears will be paid a sum of $2,500 a week to manage Britney's affairs. 
It must be nice to get paid good money to act like a Father.
As always, let's end with a pleasing image:
Suddenly, my chair at work seems less comfortable and far less sexy. So, upgrade what you sit on, don't get your ass stuck on any amount of leather and . . . Happy Friday!
-BDS
I generally loathe standing in lines, inefficiency, arbitrary decisions and forced exuberance, but despite this brutal combination of dislikes, I chose to attend my local caucus in Austin last night.
The entire point behind a caucus seems antiquated and semi-ridiculous. Texas has a truly horrible system as you have to vote at the polls - this number represents 2/3 of the delegates selected - but then you also have to return to a different venue to vote in the caucus where the remaining 1/3 of the delegates are chosen. Why? 
I can think of no good reason for a dual system except that it provides you with twice the opportunity to screw things up.
Another pet peeve I have is piss-poor planning. As I stood in one long continuous line after another, I kept hearing staffers for the caucus mutter things like "I had no idea there'd be this many people" and things of a similar nature. I wanted to run up next to them, shake them repeatedly and yell "A blind, mentally-deficient rhinoceros living under a rock could have expected a record turn-out this year." 
I might have done this after the first hour of standing outside the venue, however, I would have forfeited my place in line. Who knew democracy could be so frustrating? Probably a lot of people, including me.
Anyway, it's too nice outside today to stay angry about the lingering chaos of last night. It's 70 degrees and sunny with piercing blue skies, and only a fool wouldn't take advantage.
I think I'll toast the voting process sitting outside the Draught Horse, an oversized pint of Fat Tire in hand at one place where the world always looks infinitely more appealing. 
-BDS
I was watching "Wedding Crashers" on cable last night (mainly for research - but that's a different post), and I noticed a peculiar use of censorship by the station. Apparently, it's now fine to use the word pussy on the air, however, shit continues to be off-limits. 
In context, it was fine for a character to chastise another character to "Stop being such a pussy," but that same character couldn't be asked "how full of shit are you?" The network substituted "it" for "shit" to make things palatable for viewers.
I found these arbitrary language choices very interesting. Trying to rationalize them, I guess that pussy is no longer verboten because it could be viewed as a companion piece to the word penis, a term which has crept onto the airwaves with more frequency over the past few years. 
So, it's possible that pussy is now included among the safe words to balance the karmic scales and to give penis something to play against. This seems fair to me as we shouldn't discriminate against pussy or lock it away in a closet while penis roams freely across television.
This brings us to shit. 
I've always felt that shit gets a bad rap because I've heard many people from my mother to staunch conservatives to clergymen say shit on occasion. It's a bodily function that is not pretty, but obviously, shit happens. Yet the word has been on the banned list for a long time, and I don't see this changing anytime soon.
Maybe there needs to be a shit lobby formed where members harass the FCC to allow it on the air rather than a group formed to actually defecate in lobbies. I'll ponder forming this coalition in my spare time, which is less and less these days.
Or maybe I'm just full of shit.
-BDS
{This is the Fifteenth in a semi-regular series of posts regarding great cinematic sex scenes as defined by me. This is completely arbitrary and open for interpretation, but so is life.}
"Team America: World Police" easily boasts the finest display of puppet sex ever committed to film, and the scene in question, is also so graphic that you almost feel dirty for watching two pieces of manipulated plastic perform acts of extreme sexual acrobatics quite so well. 
Regardless of the filth factor, the puppet interlude definitely earns its place among the all-time great cinematic sex scenes. Set to the mushy Aerosmith tune, "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing," the "South Park" creators make sure that their puppets leave absolutely no sexual position out of the mix as the duo show their love - again and again. 
And no, those love-starved puppets don't miss a damn thing during their bedroom tyrst.
Nearly every sexual position is explored as the scene starts with the relatively tame missionary before going full-tilt into several minutes of cowgirl, 69, up-against-the-wall and even upside-down sex as stamina as well as flexibility mean nothing to these puppets.
They lay it all on the line, and the audience is better for it, although the unrated version does explore a 'steamier' side of things that jumped the shark for me (and I'll leave at least some territory unexplored with that one).
I doubt that "Team America: World Police" will ever face strong competition for puppet sex in the future, however, it wouldn't matter if they did because the passion on display in this project has already laid a high-water mark that will be nearly impossible to surpass.
-BDS
"Thanks for coming, please stay for the end credits, if you're wondering who the best boy is, it's somebody's nephew, um, don't forget to validate your parking, and to all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said fuck so much." - Val Kilmer, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang"
Fuck is a good word to use judiciously, although rarely if ever, at work. I don't plan to use it at all today, and instead, will focus on wrapping things up for the week and leaving early. Why not? But before that happens, let's examine the tough stories this week like:
Angelina Jolie has yet to confirm reports she is pregnant, however, you'd be a fool to think otherwise after the actress displayed her growing belly in a black dress at the recent Screen Actor's Guild Awards show.
The couple's spokeswoman, Cindy Guagenti, offers a firm "no comment" on the rumors.
On the other hand, Brad Pitt was heard exclaiming that "you're damn right I impregnated Jolie and I will do it again and again and again. Wouldn't you?" I tend to agree.
Sean Penn, who recently split from wife Robin Wright-Penn, stayed very close to model Petra Nemcova at Elton John's AIDS Foundation screening party during Oscar weekend. The model told People.com that she met Penn through altruism.
"Yes, we are friends," Petra said. "He is on the advisory board of my charity." 
Penn is one lucky dog to make it through the screening process for the Board because my application - which included a full-frontal shot tastefully set against the backdrop of a bearskin rug - was soundly rejected.
Speaking of marriage issues, Valerie Bertinelli says despite her girl-next-door image, her marriage to Eddie Van Halen was hurt by infidelity and drug use — by her, too.
"I wasn't an angel, either. I cheated, too," Bertinelli said on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" broadcast Monday. "He claims to this day that I cheated first, but I don't know. I don't know about the timing."
Bertinelli may have cheated first, but I'd wager serious money that Eddie Van Halen cheated much better considering his status as a rock star guitar god.
Expectant mother Jamie Lynn Spears has passed her GED and is looking forward to college, reported People.com this week. The younger Spears, 16, is said to have taken her high school equivalency exam about a month ago -- scoring well on reading comprehension.
Her next mission will be to teach Britney how to read, a service which Britney will pay back to Jamie Lynn by giving her parenting lessons. It's a vicious cycle.
Naomi Campbell was hospitalized in Sao Paulo this week and is being treated by one of Brazil's top specialists in infectious disease, the hospital's press office said Tuesday.
"Naomi Campbell was admitted to hospital ... to have a small cyst removed," her publicist, Jeff Raymond, said in a statement. "Following the successful procedure, she is now resting and is looking forward to getting back to work. She would like to thank the doctors who have kindly looked after her."
Calls to Campbell's room to wish her a speedy recovery could not be connected because staffers took out her phone due to the model's long history of throwing them at people who work for/on her.
Pop star Michael Jackson could lose his Neverland ranch if he fails to pay nearly $25million that he owes on the sprawling California property. The Ranch is scheduled to go to auction on March 19th if this amount is not paid, a Santa Barbara official told the BBC.
The reclusive singer has not lived at the property since his acquittal on child molestation charges in 2005. 
In a brochure for the foreclosure sale, the house is described as "sprawling, yet discreet with lots of room for children to run and run and run" - if they're lucky.
But let's not end with any nasty business today, and instead, we'll go with this: 
Here's a nod to those readers requesting a guy to crop up in these parting shots, so here is an olive branch extended as well as a display of art that I can certainly get behind (pun intended).
With that in mind, remember that art is very much subjective, the human form should be religiously studied and . . . Happy Friday!
-BDS
{This is the seventeenth in a recurring series that will only happen when I have consumed far too many spirits with my brother. Last night, more than a few bottles of Red Stripe were consumed which triggered strange thoughts, candid insights and pure horseshit. Selah.}
* The only certainty in driving is that you'll make every green light when you're in no particular hurry, and miss them all when you're late for a movie.
* Nobody else on Earth tans quite as well as rich girls.
* Dogs only fart about 1 time for every 27 instances that they are blamed for by their owners.
* Riding a mechanical bull is always better in theory than in reality
* Nobody in America has a girlfriend in the Niagara Falls area, and don't believe any stories that tell you otherwise. 
* Never trim your pubic hair while drunk
* No man looks anything other than ridiculous in a Bolo Tie.
* Sex on the Beach - neither the drink nor the act - works out particularly well
* Pussyfoot is a phenomenal word that is far underutilized these days
* I think a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it. ~Raymond Chandler
-BDS
"Finally, Big Ern is above the law," - Bill Murray, "Kingpin" 
While it's impossible to move entirely beyond the laws of the land, in some cases, you can elevate yourself through money, power or title to an elevated position which offers you a glimpse of the edge.
I was reminded of this theory when I recently saw a picture of Prince Charles at the English premiere of "The Other Boleyn Girl," a forthcoming film starring Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson. 
This blatant breast-staring session comes on the heels of last year's shot concerning the military: 
Obviously, the Prince feels no shame in hiding his breast infatuation, and his title seems to allow him this viewing pleasure on a regular basis with no repercussions. It must be a fine feeling to know that you can meet and greet women, and if you so choose, to eye them like pieces of ripe pastrami.
Prince Charles certainly has come to terms with his elevated position, a place in the world where the air is thin and there aren't many people around to reign you in from your vices. I wish I was there too.
-BDS
Per usual, I watched most of the Oscars last night while alternately reading magazines, drinking wine, working on my taxes, using the bathroom during nearly all the sleep-inducing montages and power-napping through the categories I knew nothing about. 
I generally enjoy the Oscars despite the fact that they are always far too long, a marathon that might be a reasonable length if they cut merely half of the montages as well as the musical numbers. Regardless, the whole affair appears permanently coated with money, glitter, expensive fabrics, spray tans, and skin - a powerful combination that I can embrace from afar during viewing parties. 
The main problem I have with the entire event is the pre-show Red Carpet interviews. I loathe this portion, which typically airs as people are arriving at my loft and not yet drunk enough to laugh off the buffoonery. I don't mind watching people arrive, however, it's the interview charade that makes my skin crawl.
This is mainly a selfish view because I cannot stand watching some nitwit from E! asking celebrities questions which are often awkward, uninformed and vaguely insulting for 3 minutes at a stretch. The actor/actress in question attempts to look happy to be talking to anyone with a microphone without displaying utter contempt for being asked to perform like a circus animal.
At best, the exchange is innocuous, but usually, it is painful for everyone involved. I hate this nonsense with a passion, but my objections are nearly always overruled. The only decent thing that happened this year was when a crazed Gary Busey damn near assaulted Jennifer Garner while she talked to Ryan Seacrest.
You can always count on Busey for some serious amount of crazy as the man proves time and again just what an amateur lunatic Britney Spears can be. But watching Busey burst onto the scene couldn't justify watching the rest of interviews for me.
I think the only way to go next year is to watch the pre-show on Mute because I get enough meaningless banter at work to last me a lifetime.
-BDS
"You still hungry? Then feast on that," - Mark Wahlberg, "Boogie Nights" 
I watched this movie again earlier this week, and it's pretty damn hilarious even when things get dark during the 80s. But let's ignore the dark side of human nature today as the weather is great in Austin, I feel strong enough to push through my workload, however, I can't even begin until the major stories of the week have been addressed like:
Heidi Klum jumped on the Help Britney Spears bandwagon this week as the 34-year-old model says she'd be willing to open her home to Spears while the troubled pop singer puts her life back together.
"She can call me and come live in our house with us for a couple of months," said Klum. "I would help set her straight."
Unfortunately, Klum's invitation does not extend to non-celebrities based out of the Austin-area as my calls for help have gone unanswered by the Victoria's Secret model.
KISS star Gene Simmons is angry after a video allegedly showing him having sex with a model was posted on the Internet.
The rocker, who has been dating long-term partner Shannon Tweed for over 20 years, is alleged to have made the tape while carrying out promotional duties as a spokesman for Frank's Energy Drink.
The winner is all of this is obviously Frank's Energy Drinks because I doubt Simmons would have had the stamina he displays without aid from the beverage in question.
Pictures of Lindsay Lohan playing Marilyn Monroe between the sheets – literally – were released in the new spring fashion issue of New York magazine this week. Recreating Monroe's legendary 1962 final photo shoot for Bert Stern with the veteran lensman himself, Lohan said the nudity didn't bother her.
"I was comfortable with it," said Lohan, 21 – though Lindsay did admit to having done "250 crunches" the night before the shoot. 
If Lohan is the best modern-day equivalent to Marilyn Monroe that we could find, then I think we should all be worried about the utter dilution of the planet's talent pool.
Kirstie Alley and Jenny Craig ended their weight loss relationship this week, but the one-time "Fat Actress" isn't giving up on the industry itself.
"After lengthy negotiations, regretfully the Jenny Craig Company and I did not come to an agreement to continue as their spokesperson," Alley said in a statement posted on People Magazine's Web site Tuesday.
Alley said she intends to develop her own weight-loss brand with plans to launch in 2009 "to create something new that will help millions of people end the seemingly never ending fatty-roller coaster ride."
In response, Jenny Craig called Alley "a large woman with no willpower, and we're better off without her," a stance that I felt was somewhat petty.
In other weight loss news, a company suing Jessica Simpson and her manager dad, Joe, over blocking the release of a fitness tape she made is saying, "they are hurting millions of fat people in America," the New York Post reported.
The "Dukes of Hazzard" star made the video in 2005, but despite signing a multimillion-dollar contract with Speedfit, she later nixed the release by not giving final approval, the Post reported.
The suit made no mention of the millions of people who's ears have been impacted by her over-the-top singing theatrics as they focused solely on the stomach region.
Celebrity bounty hunter Duane "Dog" Chapman is set to return to television after his reality TV show was pulled from the air three months ago in a controversy over his use of a racial slur, cable channel A&E said on Tuesday.
The revamped series will focus on Chapman's ambassador role in upcoming meetings of the United Nations council.
Pink and motocross racer Carey Hart have separated after two years of marriage it was announced this week.
"This decision was made by best friends with a huge amount of love and respect for one another," Pink's representative, Michele Schweitzer, said Tuesday in a statement. "While the marriage is over, their friendship has never been stronger."
Hart's representative stated that the marriage is over because "ironically enough, Pink has a cold, Black heart."
But let's not end with divorce and decay as we'll focus on the positive with this image: 
I love whipped cream and using the bathroom, but I rarely mix the two pleasures. This picture, however, makes me reconsider this stance, so get outside your comfort zone, don't be afraid to combine odd mixtures and . . . Happy Friday!
-BDS
