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Posted by on Oct 11, 2012 in Blog, Personal | 2 comments

Pervert Alert — Unidentified Man Stalking Women’s Restroom

nolan-dalla-photo

 

This is a public service announcement.

Be on the lookout for a sick pervert in the habit of trolling women’s restrooms.

He was recently photographed on Thursday at noon in the tiny desert town of Shoshone, California at a Chevron gas station.  The perverted man appeared shocked just as he was caught in the act of leaving a women’s restroom.  Check out the look on his face.  This disgusting man is clearly guilty of immoral acts, and perhaps worse.

This man is a danger to society.  He remains at large and was last seen headed in the direction of Las Vegas.

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Posted by on Oct 7, 2012 in Blog, Travel | 4 comments

Where’s Inspector Clouseau When You Need Him?

 Inspector Clouseau

 

A few days ago, I lost everything I have ever written.

Every article — gone.

Every draft — gone.

Two half-completed books — gone.

Hundreds of World Series of Poker official reports — gone.

Thousands of personal photographs — gone.

Basically, everything I’m now working on or have nearly completed as a writer — gone.

So, what happened?

My laptop was stolen.

After spending 24 hours crying and another 48 hours throwing up, my next instinct was to write about the pain this has caused.  Even as I sit here now, three days removed from the loss, words cannot express what comes from being severed forever from the emotional reactions I had to different things over the years that were reflected in those very heartfelt writings.

When I felt happy, I usually wrote about it.  When I felt sad, I usually wrote about it.  And, when I felt angry, I almost always wrote about it.  That laptop was a basket case of emotional bedlam.

And now, it’s gone, likely transformed into little more than back-alley barter for the next $50 fix.

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Posted by on Sep 29, 2012 in Blog, Personal, Rants and Raves, Travel | 3 comments

Nolan’s Kinky French Sleeping Habits

 

How did this happen?

Look at this mattress!

Disgusting!

The photo above shows the king-sized bed in my hotel room, in Cannes, France.

Here’s a closer look:

 

 

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re horrified.  You find me repulsive.

Well, it’s not what you think.

There’s a story here, and if you’ve read this far, you’re going to hear every sleazy detail.

I got out of bed this morning at 9 am sharp.  As I was getting dressed, I looked back at the bed and saw this appalling sight.

Imagine the horror.

But the odor wasn’t quite what I expected.  In fact, the odor was quite pleasant.

Has your revulsion meter hit overdrive yet?  I’ll pause a moment and give you a chance to run to the bathroom and vomit.

I had smelled this familiar odor before.  Many times.  And, it wasn’t just coming from the sheets.  I looked down.  It was also all over my body, especially my backside.  I was covered in brown.

What was this odd brown substance?

You guessed it.

Chocolate.

Reminiscent to the famous scene in The Godfather where the evil movie producer wakes up with what appears to be a bloody nose, only to find his prize mare’s head splattered all over his silk sheets, my worst possible fears turned out to be little more than a mangled and molested confectionary treat.

But now, there’s an even bigger mystery.  I don’t remember eating chocolate in bed last night.  So, how did it get there?

The only logical explanation seems to be that the maid somehow left some chocolates on the bed when she cleaned my room the previous day.  Was she munching on a candy bar?  Did she set the chocolate down and then forget about it?  Or, were there chocolates on the pillow as some fancy hotels do — and did I stumble in at 3 am last night, rumble under the sheets, and proceed to pulverize a couple of pieces of chocolate candy?

I don’t know.

What I do know, however, is that with no help from the useless “shower” in my bathroom, it took me ten minutes to wash the chocolate out of my ass.

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