Vegas!

Kat Nove and I managed to return from our whirlwind trip to Las Vegas without getting arrested, tasered, or contracting any sort of communicable diseases.

We received a bunch of great dares and performed some of them (mostly Kat) but chose to skip some because of lack of time, patience or inclination. There were plenty of “Put a Little Rudd In It” moments, which you can see on the video below, as well as Kat snagging leftover food from abandoned restaurant tables. (Thanks, Kay!)

Below is a list of Scavenger Hunt dares submitted by Twitter friend Diane, as well as our “excuses” for why we might not have attempted some:


1. Down a shot (or have anything alcoholic) at each of the following locations!

KAT: Taking shots at every place on the scavenger hunt was just asking for the early release of Hangover 3, starring Miss Calculate and Boozy McBoobs. I did have a beer in every casino where I could get one for free. (Memo to Casinos: Hire more cocktail waitresses!) Jeni was a total puss and drank club soda all weekend.

JENI: I was dehydrated!



2. Don’t want you wasting away.  Better go get re-hydrated and don’t forget the salt!

KAT: Not sure, but we think you wanted us to go to Tacos and Tequila at the Luxor. That’s a long walk from the Mirage. I lost a shit-load of money at the Luxor while it was under construction and I'm still pissed about it. Screw the Pharaohs!

JENI: I only eat tacos prepared by myself. You have no idea what they put in those things. No idea!


3. “Gambling Portion”:  Take a spin and hope you get 1000, otherwise you could always ask to buy a vowel.

KAT: We lost approximately the same amount of money playing Wheel of Fortune that Vanna White spends on facelifts.

JENI: We may have lost gobs of money, but I got all tingly down there every time I hit SPIN and the canned audience applause commenced.


4. You won’t have to worry about Gladiators anymore, but on occasion you may hear the Titanic, Marilyn or Maggie playing.

KAT: We spent some time speaking Italian to some statue’s penis at Caesar’s Palace. We believe that fulfills this portion of the scavenger hunt.

JENI: Said penis conversation will be posted soon and will double as our plea to the producers of The Amazing Race. Kat insists we get on the show - probably so that millions of viewers can see how out of shape I am - right before I keel over and die, garnering huge ratings.

KAT: Quit your whining! Premature death sells books!


5. Don’t expect to get your youth back or meet the cast of Ocean’s Eleven here.

KAT: We made it to the Bellagio, we stayed at the Mirage, but once again, the MGM Grand was a bit far to walk. Let’s blame Jeni.

JENI: I told you MY ANKLE HURT!


6. A tropical rainforest with waterfalls, lush vegetation and indigenous creatures in Vegas.

KAT: We saw three indigenous roaches at the Mirage. Okay, so we’re lying. The Mirage was a nice place to stay. We backed out of the habitat because it was $17.50 for hotel guests and that money was better spent on gambling!

JENI: I have the National Geographic channel at home. That’s as close as I need to get to indigenous creatures of any variety.


7. They are one-half and two-thirds the sizes of the originals.  Be sure to get a “Sugar” fix while you’re there. 

KAT: We spent just enough time in The Paris for Jeni to get video of the restroom. The chocolate was cheaper at Walgreens, but we did take our picture at The Sugar Factory.

JENI: I really appreciated the dares that involved us taking a quick snapshot in front of a sign before moving the fuck on to the slot machines.

8. George Clooney (ahhhhhh yes), Whoopi Goldberg, Jerry Springer…”grab hold” of your favorite star and try not to get arrested in the process.

KAT: At Madam Tussaud’s Wax Museum, Jeni placed her hand on Elvis Presley’s ass, which I thought was creepy.

JENI: I may be the only person in the free world who would rather touch Elvis’ wax ass over his real one.


 8. If you “Believe” that “Carrots” can improve your vision and lessen your “hot flashes” …have I got a Pyramid scheme for you?

KAT: What’s up with this challenger and the Luxor? Too far to walk... I saw Carrot Top at my last disastrous visit and kept pulling my bra out about six inches because of stabbing pain. Chris Angel’s Believe is there, but at least one of us has no idea who the hell he is. (Me.)

JENI: Have any of you noticed that Kat is passive-aggressively blaming me for all the places we couldn’t hike to? I hurt my ankle on day two! I think I did a magnificent job of pushing through the pain, even with her calling me a pussy seventy-five times a day.



9. The “Dare” portion:  Steak & Eggs for under $10 between midnight and 6 am.

KAT: We didn’t do this, but we did spend $29.99 for a FUCKING buffet our first night at the Mirage. After that, who had ten bucks for steak and eggs?

JENI: I would have eaten Chex Mix all week if it meant having more money to gamble with.

~*~

Our other winner, Kay, had a few dare suggestions:

I'm going to need one/both of you to ride someone's pet. Bonus points awarded for service animals. If you are unable to do that, I'm going to need you to ride someone's (mobility assistance) ride. With or without the owner also using the device.

KAT: I looked everywhere for a yapping poodle to squash, but had no luck. I finally sat on the lap of the most adorable old man who had broken his hip. The overexcitement caused him to have a heart attack. We rode in a cab with his adorable old wife to the emergency room, but he was dead on arrival. We consoled her and promised to be at the funeral, but that was a bullshit lie. We didn’t even call to check on her like we promised. You know how you lose track of time in Vegas when you’re having fun.

JENI: Yeah… what she said.


Might there be any interest in eating something found in a food truck/cart's trash bin? Or something left on a discarded table in a restaurant?

KAT: The challenge to eat food off someone else’s plate was no challenge at all. If I don’t have to pay for it, it’s a win/win for me.

JENI: The entire vacation was a win/win for me because Kat did most of the dares. I’ll gladly let her call me a pussy all week if it means she’s the one that has to endure the public humiliation. (See her complete the dare in the video below.)

~*~





Random people signing the copies of Waiting for Karl Rove:

Hot cops!

Tourists from Brazil:

Drunk Winnie the Pooh:

Sign-board boys advertising the local Drag Show:

Kat riding the zip-line! (Again, I pussed out.)

Sgt. Sexy feeling Kat up:

If you’d like to give her a little Twitter love, you can follow @Sgtsexxxy (pictured on the left)

Finally, for those of you who haven’t seen it, here’s the book trailer for Waiting for Karl Rove.




We'll get our Amazing Race Plea up ASAP, as well as a montage of bathrooms where the signed copies of Waiting for Karl Rove spent a little quality time.

Thanks to all who participated in our Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge. We had a fantastic time!

Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge

Kat Nove & Jeni Decker will meet for the first time (in person) in Las Vegas on April 1st. (The day of fools, how appropriate!)

To celebrate us taking Sin City by tit-storm, we’re announcing the “Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge.” Your job, should you choose to accept it: send us your questions and/or dares. We will live tweet the answers from Vegas, as well as proof of each accomplished dare, in the form of pictures and video.

What would you like to see us doing in Vegas?

Here are the rules:

1. No nudity. (Nobody needs to see that.)

2. Nothing illegal. (Actually, we’re willing to work with you on this one. Misdemeanors will be considered, felonies will not.)

3. Jeni will not eat any form of bug. (Kat can be talked into eating anything - but it’ll cost you.)

4. Nothing that requires Jeni to run. Jeni does not run.

5. Nothing that includes feces or any type of bodily fluid. (What, are you an idiot?)

When we return (hopefully with all of our teeth and no tattoos) we’ll be doing a book giveaway. Two lucky winners will each receive a copy of Waiting for Karl Rove, which will most certainly become COLLECTOR’S ITEMS.

Why, you ask?

Because the books will fly with us to Vegas, and when the winners receive them, will have the actual signatures of some of the characters from the book - including but not limited to:

Black Elvis
Two old ladies playing slot machines
A happy couple getting hitched at The Little White Chapel
… and any celebrities and/or politicians we run into (accost) while there.

So, let ‘er rip - and be creative, for Jehovah’s sake. Submit your questions and/or dares as comments below, or to us on Twitter: @Jeni_Decker @katnove @WaitingforKRove . Don’t forget to leave us your Twitter handle or some means of contact should you be the winner!

NOTE: We will also be taking video comprised of scenes from Waiting for Karl Rove as well as our upcoming sequel, Waiting for a Plot: or What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, Especially If Someone Slips You Some Roofies. So stay tuned for updates because we’ve already arranged for the use of a dead body for Karl Rove’s room!

It’s all Fun and Games Till Someone Loses Their Mind

TWEET: How do you make every teacher and kid within a 50 mile radius happy at 5:30AM while simultaneously making every parent weep? SNOW DAY!!!

That’s how the day started. And life was fine…

Thing One headed back to his bedroom to pull up Google Earth, his newest obsession, while Thing Two took to the bathroom to set up today’s Lego universe, as seen through the eyes of a 10 year old, still in Pull-Up’s, slightly verbal autistic boy.

I amused myself on Twitter, joking around with a few friends about this and that and some such nonsense, including an upcoming trip to Las Vegas, that I will, in just a few hours, begin to think can't possibly come soon enough.

At exactly 11:32 AM, I was staring at the alarm clock on my bedside table and praying for something to happen. ANYTHING to shut him up. Thing Two, at that point, had spent an entire hour screaming in my ear, poking and cajoling me, physically and emotionally.

“Mommy, Jake, Jaxson, Grammy, Grammy’s car, seatbelt, Walmart Store, Lego Jungle, Singing Mickey, Gamestop, McDonalds. I wuv… Mommy, Jake, Jaxson, Grammy, Grammy’s car, seatbelt, Walmart store….”

On and on and on and on and on… repeating the same thing over and over and over until I found myself on my bed in the fetal position with my fingers jammed in my ears, eyes scrunched closed and humming loudly enough to get his voice out of my head.

For the first, let’s say, thirty minutes of this tiptoe through Hades, I would like a huge dollop of credit for the patience I was able to exhibit.

“No, honey. Not today. No store today.” I said it as many ways as I possibly could, very sweetly and calmly, interspersed with portions of time where I ignored him completely - going about my daily routine of laundry and dishes, with him trailing behind me as I continued to hope the broken record would finally skip to another song.

He was on a roll. It was as far from a “normal” tantrum as one can possibly get. Because I can’t reason with this child. He doesn’t “get” words of reason, with the possible exception of “NO!” which I finally screamed - having done everything else I could possibly do, starting with TRYING to reason with him - hoping it would be the one time he would understand - “Mommy can’t go to the store today. The roads are icy and even if they weren’t, Mommy doesn’t have enough money today… and even if I did, I’d have to use it to pay the phone bill, not buy you another set of Legos to add to your ever-expanding collection…”

Reason. Ha! The universe mocks.

I knock, knock, knock on his little head. Nothing’s getting thru. So I try ignoring him, closing myself in the bathroom until he breaks in to join me - because we don’t have locks on ANY of the interior doors in the house. Locks? Are you crazy? Two autistic kids live here. The last thing I need is to have to crowbar either one of them out of a room they’ve barricaded themselves into with a lighter and a four pack of generic toilet paper.

Okay, so Thing One wouldn’t do that, but that’s totally within Thing Two’s modus operandi.

So, I’m in the bathroom and he’s at my feet and he’s whining and crying and it only takes ten minutes of this sheer hell to realize that the acoustics in the bathroom - coupled with his hysteria and the decibel level of such - is not conducive to me retaining a sanity level that is greater than or equal to a sanity level necessary to keep me from being carted off to a padded room somewhere.

For a moment, I laugh - the horrible guffawing of the clinically insane - as my mouth waters for a few moments in that goddamned padded room. I bet it’s quiet in there… and at this point I’d take ten seconds of silence over a ten minute orgasm.

I flushed (at least I got something done while I was in there), stepped over Thing Two and escaped to my bed, where I burrowed under the covers. Unfortunately, he burrowed right along with me.

I tried the finger to lips, “Shhhh.” A gentle cue for him to SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE MOMMY LOSES IT!!! - one I’m certain he understood. But, then come the tears. Tears in earnest, as if I’m torturing the kid because I won’t take him to Walmart. He doesn’t understand. He’s not getting it. And there’s not one goddamn thing I can do about it but ride the tsunami of dysfunction till he tires out or I have a stroke - whichever comes first.

And he’s poking me. Non-stop poking. This is not the hard, barbed, LISTEN TO ME poking at this point, but the very gentle, almost-a-tickle poking that says, “Please give me some attention because it seems, Mommy, that you’re not understanding my wants and needs and all I require is a little understanding.”

It is so sweet and so sad and so damned absurd… and if the little guy only understood that I completely understand his wants and needs, but his wants and needs, at this precise moment, juxtaposed against my particular wants and needs, seem to be at loggerheads.

I need him to stop touching me.
I need him to be quiet.
I need a cigarette - which I cannot have because I’ve recently quit - ironically, for my kids because if it were only me I had to worry about, I’d gladly smoke myself into an early grave while enjoying every menthol-y drag on my road to emphysema.

Poke, poke, tickle - he continues his non-stop refrain, quiet, soft and accompanied with tears, and it is worse than the screaming of earlier: “Mommy, Jake, Jaxson, Grammy, Grammy’s car, seatbelt, Walmart Store, Lego Jungle, Singing Mickey, Gamestop, McDonalds. I wuv… Mommy, Jake, Jaxson, Grammy, Grammy’s car, seatbelt, Walmart store….”

I lay there thinking about my flippant early-morning tweet and how the universe is a sarcastic bitch, (and how I could probably put this torturous situation to good use by inventing something similar as an effective form of torture for our government to employ on “enemy combatants”) when I start to laugh. It’s so over-the-top, having gone on almost two hours, so ridiculously, morbidly horrifying, that I’ve now reached that point where there’s nothing to do but laugh.

So I laugh, taking a brief few seconds to GROAN LOUDLY in frustration, then continue my hysterical laughter of the insane…

Then, it happens. Thing Two stops, the record skips to another song and suddenly he’s in the living room and I’m on the bed alone and I’m not quite sure how I got there, or what I did to make the bad thing stop, but it has stopped.

I close my eyes and do some yoga breathing I picked up somewhere, who the hell knows where because I’ve never done yoga in my life, and would most certainly risk pulling something vital like my aortic valve if I did.

When the coast seems clear, I tiptoe over to my computer and jot down this rant - which will never get properly edited because there are only so many hours in the day…

“Mom, look. Mom…”

Now, he’s at the computer, watching some Lego video on YouTube and pointing to something he wants me to help him build. I smile wanly and nod as he pulls the huge box of Legos into the living room.

Then, I sit down next to him, dreaming of a day, 79 days from now, when I will have four consecutive days to do whatever the hell I want to do …and I assure you, whatever happens in Vegas, it won’t include Legos or Walmart or me being screamed at or poked.

…and for 4 days, life will be fine.