[Read Laz's past Comic Con Adventures: 2005 LiveBlog & Wrap Up.. 2006 Post.. Also check out 2005 Wizard Comic Con in Chicago.. Enjoy]
Jul 25, 2007 1:32 PM – Sup fuckos. So it is July and that means 2 things, I have watched approximatly 48 Cubs games so far, and it is Comic Con time. Being the Jet Set, Rock and Roll, Party time movie/comic executive that I am, this is my Mardi Gras Super Bowl. I go pretty much 24/7 for 5 days and then check into super hero rehab. It is kind of like regular rehab except you have to share a smoke with The Green Arrow instead of Lindsay Lohan. I smoke, I drink, I fuck girls dress liked wookies and try not to lose my shit too bad when I see Peter Mayhew in the hotel elevator. Like the French would say, “It is la shit.”
So my goal… get as fucked up as possible at the 2007 Comic Con and live blog that shit for you fuck tards. The brass ring would have to be to make a bigger dunken ass out of myself then I did last year. Impossible you say? I aim for the stars, bitches.
This is Lazlo saying, Excelsor biotch.
Jul 25, 2007 4:50 PM – So I get to my residence for the next five days and I find myself at the Marriott Marenia. This place is swank. It must be where rockstars stay when they come to Comic Con. I take a quick shit and hit the gym.
Now I know what you are saying, “Is Lazlo turning into a health nut? Will he trading brats in for sprouts?” And the answer to that questions is: What is a sprout? I work out because I found out if you do you get drunk quicker. I do not drink any less, but I shit myself half the time. I shower up and smoke a bowl and I am on my way. I grab a quick double Jack & Coke at the lobby Irish bar and I am off to grab my pass for pre view night.
July 26, 2007 12:35 PM – So, a lot has transpired in the last 20 hours including what can only be described as a good old-fashioned blackout. Somewhere around 7 last night I started to get a massive headache. I battled it the only way I know how…whiskey and weed. But no amount of THC or distilled rye could take this puppy down. Worse yet, I was about 5 bowls and 10 drinks in and I could not catch a buzz. This headache was acting as a drunk inhibitor and I was pissed. On the way out for the night I grab about 10 Tylenols off a friend and went on my way. About 4 shots and 4 beers later the Tylenol kicked in and the headache went away letting all of the booze hit me at once. The last thought I remember having was, “Oh shit, I forgot to eat today.” I woke up at six AM, asleep in a chair in the lobby of my hotel with a 50 dollar cab receipt in my pocket.
I slowly made my way down to the floor this morning to meet up with friends and I am now going to a bar to eat. Ain’t gonna make that mistake twice. Ok I will but not today.
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Lazlo’s Observations From The Road
Jet set, rock and roll drunk of the year, Lazlo coming at cha cha cha. I am currently staring out the window of an amtrack train headed to funsville, and I had a thought. Skynard had it right, “I’m as free as a bird, cause that is all I’ll ever be.” So much of our Puritan culture is based on limiting one’s options. Relationships, family, religon, politics are all ways of closing yourself off to other potential “things.” Things like cutting off work earlier on a friday to get loaded on a train to San Diego to see your boys from SOUND TRIBE SECTOR NINE rock the shit at the House of Blues is not an option when you limit yourself. Fuck that, I will defend my right to rock out with my cock out until I fucking die.
Folks look out the window, life is happening out there.
This is Lazlo saying, Give me Crown Royal, or give me death.
Lazlo Liveblog: The Return Of The Jet Set Drunk, NAWLENS Style WRAP UP
[Read Lazlo's Complete New Orleans Weekend HERE]
Jan 15, 2007 5:28 PM – The Saints kicked the hell out the Eagles and the town exploded. People were dancing in the streets. Strangers were hugging each. Grown men were crying. In a word, it was awesome. I get out of my mind drunk dancing to a cover band with chick singers wearing Saints jerseys. Seeing as we are leaving to gut houses at 7:30am, our group heads back to the hotel but Cory and I are not having it. We decide it would only be right if we were the last ones out.
We walk out the side door of the hotel onto Bourbon Street, where we are greeted by a 8 piece brass band playing on the street to a crowd of about 1000. We dance on the streets until about 4 am. Highlights include making out with a random girl that was walking down the street and smoking a blunt with some dudes and, oh yeah, tried to grab Angelina Jolie’s ass. What the fuck was she doing here?
I pass out and get about 3 and a half hours sleep before heading back to the lower 9th ward to gut houses. This time the guy who lived in the home, Raymond, was there. I feel like shit as he tells me of his horrible experience 16 months ago. He woke up one night as his bed was floating around the room. He then had a harrowing day and a half journey to the Superdome where he saw more death and despair then anyone not involved in a war. But he kept going. He tells he wishes he could pay us and I am almost in tears. Summing up the frustration of the situation, he has had a FEMA trailer behind his home for a month that he has not had a key to get in it. They came, hooked it up and now he is waiting on an inspector to come and sign off on it. His home is probably going to have to come down, but it has to be gutted and inspected before the city will sign off on it being torn down.
That is when I realize that it is not government or agencies that are going to rebuild this city. It is people. Individuals who just don’t give a fuck what the government is doing, they are going to do it and they will not be stopped. Suddenly the Bear game I am missing means a little less (well they won so that helped). We finish up 2 houses making the total for the weekend 4. It is so small in the grand scheme of things, but I can not help feeling really good about myself. At dinner that night we are joined by some locals who talk about their experiences and MTV reporter Gideon Yago (surprisingly cool dude) who talks about what this situation was like compared to other disasters he has covered. The thing that kills me is everyone thanking us for coming. It feels like we have done so little, but to them it means so much to them.
We wrap up at dinner and head back to Bourbon Street to tear it up some more. We are all on a high that is pretty unexplainable. I notice a girl from our group is starting to wobble and a swoop in for the kill. We knock it out in my room and her room before I drop it like it is hot and head back to my room. Cory left a girl, who earlier that night I was told we were going to tag team, naked and passed out in his bed but he is nowhere to be found. I get a hold of him and he is at the Harrah’s Casino wanting nothing to do with the chick. I head over and play some back jack until about six and I somehow manage to leave up by about a bill and a half. I go back to the hotel room which is now populated by 6 people including 2 chicks I do not know.
I did not get up until 3 the next day when everyone from my group is already gone. I shit and shower and strap a hoodie and last nights jeans on for a last time walk around the French Quarter. I grab a slice and a hurricane and have a meaningful chat with a local and try to recapture my weekend. I realize I can not so I leave you with this…
Go to New Orleans. See the town. Talk to the people. Eat the food. Drink the booze. Do whatever, but just go. They need it as much as we need to do it for them. If you are or have ever been a Sorry Drunk in the slightest, go show New Orleans some love. Trust me, it will be worth it.
This has been Lazlo saying, Make Levees Not War.
Lazlo Liveblog: The Return Of The Jet Set Drunk, NAWLENS Style
Jan 11, 2007 4:34 PM – Ah the Big Easy. Not only was it Lazlo’s nickname in college, it is also the affectionate moniker for one of the world’s greatest drunken cities, New Orleans. And seeing as it has been some time since I live-blogged one of my drunken Kerouacian trips, what better a city for me to pull a Jay-Z and reclaim my throne.
I know it sounds strange, but I have never been to new orleans. I know you must be saying to yourslef, “But Lazlo, how could a party god such as yourself never taken a booze-addled step in the Crescent City?” I have no answer except I am sorry and I will never let it happen again. I will do my best to make up for lost time over this long weekend.
16 months ago, I sat there like most of you did, and watched the horrible images come out of the South. How could the White Sox win the world series? Where was the goverment to put a stop to it? Then Katrina hit. Most of the time I am too busy waging a jahid on my liver to notice storms, but this one affected me. I did not seem real. It seemed like some scene that was cut from Hotel Rwanda except it was happening at the site of glorious Super Bowl XX. Hollowed grounds were tainted before I had the chance to make a pilgrimage. Even my parents had been to New Orleans. So when a business associate who grew up in New Orleans told me she was getting a group of entertainment execs together to go down to New Orleans to build some houses and hit up Bourbon Street, let’s just say I responded a bit quicker then FEMA.
So I am off to the LAX to catch a flight to New Orleans to build some homes, drink some hand grenades and live-blog this bitch just for you. Blackberry don’t fail me now.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Jan 11, 2007 4:43 PM – So I arrive at LAX amid protests in anticipation of the arrival of the President of Taiwan and I am reminded of a little tradition that Lou and I have before we head off on one of our little adventures. We get fucked up. See I don’t like to fly so we use the 2 hours we spend are the airport pre-flight getting what the british call Pissed. We treat the airport like our own personal tailgate. Sometimes we even bring a grill. So I arrive at the United terminal and head directly to the Karl Strauss to spend some time with my good buddy, John Daniels. God I love that guy.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Jan 11, 2007 5:42 PM – Something just occured to me. People call New Years Eve “amateur night.” We save the Olympics for amateurs. So New Years Eve is the Olympics of partying thank you very much. Btw I have had 6 jack and cokes and am with my girl lauren who set this trip up. We are getting on the plane and I will see you Sorry Drunks in the Creole City.
Jan 11, 2007 5:55 PM – By the way, United is so the Anti-Southwest. I have not seen one wifebeater or styrofoam cooler. Classy.
Jan 11, 2007 9:57 PM – Movie on the plane was LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE. What a fucking great movie. Not sure if it was the compelling story or wonderfull acting or the 2 bloody marys but this flick got to me.
Landing in new orleans I am reminded how much of a mixed bag this city is. White people stick out while people of different shapes and sizes seem to be the norm. I grab a beer by baggage claim. This is going to be fun.
Jan 11, 2007 11:23 PM – So I get to my hotel, which is located at the coner of Canal and Bourbon, and toss my bags in my room to hit the streets. For those of you not familar with the city, Canal and Bourbon would be like being at the coner of Times and Square in New York.
I am noway a good enough writer to describe Bourbon Street. It is everything I stand for and so much more. It is a breathtaking vista of sin and vice. It is a little after 2am local time and it may as well be noon. After walking all the way up and down Bourbon Street with my mouth wide open as gazing at the awesomeness, I hit up a place called Jesters for a slice and 2 huge Coors Lights. It is on.
Jan 11, 2007 11:26 PM – Next stop is a little hole in the wall of off Bourbon called Johnny White’s. I am drawn to its dollar beer sign like the tractor beam on the Death Star. This town is crazy about the Saints. It is all anyone can talk about. If they win on Saturday I am pretty sure this may have some sort of frozen drink explosion. It is way more then a game to these people. They bleed it down here in a way that is hard to explain. Down here, the Saints are a reminder and an escape. If the Eagles have the balls to win, I may kill Jeff Garcia just out of respect. My bartender Scottie reeks of the city. It is awe inspiring.
Jan 11, 2007 11:58 PM – Being able to walk down the street with a drink is like skydiving. It is a reminder of what it means to feel alive. I need to move somewhere where open containers are a way of life.
Jan 12, 2007 12:00 AM – They have a funnel at the bar. I am offically in heaven.
Jan 12, 2007 12:02 AM – So I leave Johnny White’s out of my mind fucked up. This brings to mind a simple point. People do not walk down Bourbon Street. The pretty much lean forward and let gravity take over. MIT should do a study on it. It defies scientific law.
Jan 12, 2007 11:14 AM – I wake up at the crack of noon feeling like I got my head bashed in by a baseball bat. I can already hear music pouring in my room from down the street. Even though I feel like shit, the allure of the city is to great to resist. I quickly shower, pop some wake up pills, and hit the street. My first stop is Sammy’s Seafood and steak for some blackened chicken refried beans and rice washed down with a healthy dose of beer.
Jan 12, 2007 12:26 PM – Food mmmmmm. Serious grubage in this town. I plan on adding about 50 pounds to the old Laz man by the end of this weekend. I find another Johnny White’s. At first I am pissed at the thought that I spent all last night in a chain bar as apposed to the dive I thought I was in. Then I realize the one last night was just an offshoot of this one. Even better, this one was the only bar on Bourbon Street to remain open 24 hours a day during Katrina. Seeing as this is my off day, I consider attempting to spend 24 hours at the bar in tribute.
Jan 12, 2007 12:50 PM – New Orleans is a surprisingly rasict town. Not so much in a behind closed doors hateful way, but in a “you’re different then I am and that just the way it is,” way. Both horrifing and refreshing. Strange.
Jan 12, 2007 1:19 PM – So I just had to handle a biz emergency back in LA. If you ever have the chance to do business over the phone drunk in a bar on Bourbon Street I highly recommend it. Also, there is a Moose head at Johnny White’s named Moose-o-Lini. He is quoted as saying, “You have not partied til you pooped your pants.”. Somewhere, Lou is smiling.
Jan 12, 2007 2:24 PM – So it is 4:20 and I feel the need to comment. It is strange, this city has a rhythm and a pulse to it like no other. It is the only city I have been to the defies comparison. You feel it when you walk down the street. Something in the air here affects you in a way that makes you lose yourself. I have to pee.
Jan 12, 2007 3:14 PM – So after 4 hours at Johnny White’s I decide to venture out into the city. After walking around for 20 minutes and helping to bust a shoplifter, I stagger into a place I like to call, “random bar with a blues band.” I like to call it that cause it was a random bar with a blues band. My plan to sober up is derailed by a shot a Jager and a beer that comes in a cup that says “Huge Ass Bourbon Street Beer.” Nuff said.
Jan 12, 2007 4:16 PM – So at random blues bar # whatever, I met the coolest crackhead in town. He adopts me as his surrogate Angelina Jolie and we have conversations that blow my fucking mind. When I run away from him, he chases me down to give me a cig. What a guy. I hang on Bourbon Street long enough to have someone sell me coke. HOW AWESOME IS THIS TOWN? I am now in the shitter of a 5 star restaurant trying to get my shit together enough to host a dinner.
Jan 13, 2007 9:30 AM – I lost a decent chunk of my night. At one point I was sleeping under a truck about 2 miles from Bourbon Street think about that. Not only did I get 2 miles away from where I was, but I tried to sleep in the gutter under a duellie. I would love to give you all the details of my night, but I ain’t got them. There was dinner, then Pat O’Briens, then me asleep under a truck. And some asshole did all my coke.
Jan 13, 2007 4:36 PM – We spend half the day on a tour of the devastation. To say it is mind blowing would be an insult to the destruction of grey matter. Block after block just gone. We stop at one of the houses and get to the gutting. Gutting is when you break down a house to the 2 by 4 and pitch everything else. My girl Lauren points across the street at what used to be her grandmothers house. The entire thing, for lack of a better word, is sobering. I will remember what I am seeing as much as I will not remember last night. I need, hell, this whole town needs a drink.
Jan 14, 2007 11:56 AM – So, after me and my friend Cory have 6 Jack and Cokes and watch his Colts beat the Ravens, we head to dinner at a little joint called Mothers. This place took away 5 years off my life and added 50 pounds to my weight. We are now watching the end of the saints game with a healthy dose of liquor.
[Read Lazlo's Conclusion HERE]
Lazlo’s E3 Liveblog
11:35 AM – Why E3 Lazlo? Well I am a bit of a gamer (I like to smoke pot and play madden) and I work for a company that turns comic books into movies (I get to beat up nerds and take their lunch money) so I got sent here to scout the booth chicks… uh I mean projects.
Let the gaymes begin…
11:41 AM – Security just confiscated a book. Only here and at the CrackHouse can you get made fun of for reading.
11:47 AM – People are lined up to get their picture taken with a Playstation 3.
11:52 AM – And you will know my name is the lord….I found the 97 Madden. High def yo. [Ed.Note: I'm sure he meant 2007, but hey 97 MADDEN wasn't too bad and it wouldn't surprise me if Laz found the only retro Sega Genesis booth or something.]
12:08 PM – Well I just played MADDEN and broke up with my girlfriend. I have a new love. First play was a 30 TD from Roethlisberger to Heath Miller. Rex would be proud. Seriously, I want this game and a pound of coke delivered to my house STAT.
Top Ten Things That Suck About Valentines Day
Sup Peeps, Laz and his black crusted heart here.
So, I do not have a girlfriend. I know it is a totally shock that a 300 pound drunken slob whose goal in life is to watch 24 hours of sports while consuming a barrel of whiskey and peeing in a glass in the corner Howard Hughes style has not found his Mrs. Right, but alas, I have not found that someone that will bring back the feeling to my genitals. So naturally, V Day (I prefer this moniker for the day because it supports the association to D Day) is like the anti Super Bowl for Laz. I fucking hate it and all of its essence. So with out further ado
Top Ten Things that Suck about Valentines Day
10. CHICKS RULE – 364 days a year they are nothing more then wet holes and the only time we want you around is when we want to stick pieces of ourselves inside parts you have and on this day we are supposed to treat you like a princess. In the words of the immortal Tom
Leykis, “The only reason to put a girl on a pedestal is to look up her skirt.”
9. YOU HAVE TO BUY ALL THIS SHIT AND THEY DON’T HAVE TO SUCKIE SUCKIE – Most time men and women have a little unwritten rule. If we pay for your dinner and listen to you babble about how unfair it is that Jenny at work gets all of the good Post-It notes because she brushes up against the supply boys cock and we at least get a handie at the end of the night. On V Day, it would be totally expectable for us to spend an ass load of money and end up on the wrong end of a cuddle stick.
8. MAKES CHICKS FAT – Candy + Dinner = Fat Ass. It is a simple time tested formula. Get ready for a couple weeks of sweat pants.
Fat And Drunk Is No Way To Go Through Sundance
Read Lazlo’s Entire Account Here
Jan 22, 2006 10:19 AM – But it has worked well for Harvey Weinstein. So it is fucking cold up in this piece. Having lived in Southern Cali for the last 6 years you forgot that the cold, especially mountain cold, is sobering. Which sucks billy goat balls. So for film folk, Spring Break doesn’t end with college graduation, it just moved to Park City and got higher end sponsors. This place is nuttier then Flava Flav at a “white women who love cracked out black men” convention.
I stayed sober long enough to see one movie yesterday, a Paul Giamatti flick called A HAWK IS DYING. It is the tale of a man and his hawk and the bond they form after the death of the man’s nephew. I wish that last sentence was a joke but it is so not. I will now directly address Mr. Giamatti:
Paul, we get it. You are a good actor. Probably one of the bests for your archetype in the game today. But if you don’t get your head out of your ass and make fun movies instead of this depressing man love animal shit, I will cut you. Make me laugh clown.
Guess what? After that depressing piece of bird shit, I needed a drink, and several. Went to a little watering whole on Main Street called Cicero’s and erased all the crap indie film from my mind. After a little din din and some nasal congestor medicine, it was into the belly of the beast. We went to the Motorola party and Lazlo proceeded to put a huge fuckin’ dent in their supply of Jack Daniel’s. The placed was insanely packed, as all of these things are. After about my 800th Jack and Coke and coke, I look next to me and Sting was having a conversation with Kevin Sorbo. Normally I would chalk seeing that up to an acid flashback from my hippie days, but seeing shit like this is what Sundance is all about.
Bout 4am, I could not see straight so I figured that was my cue to leave. That is when the funniest thing happened. Walking down an empty Main Street, a black SUV screeches to a hault and a stick thin blond somersaults out and stumbles to the door of the party. The door guy stops her and tells her to wait at the front entrance. She replied “I am Paris Hilton, the biggest celebrity at Sundance.” I proceed to fall down laughing, much to the delight of the door guy, and mockingly repeat her line as I went upon my merry way. Funny, cause I would have assumed she would have no problem with going backdoor.
Off to get drunk and watch football on the company dime while I should be seeing movies.
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry
Park City Bitch Slap
Read Lazlo’s Entire Account Here
Jan 21, 2006 10:11 AM – That John Denver was full of shit. On the flight up yesterday, I sustained myself on Jack and Coke and coke. It was about 8 hours from the time I arrived at LAX until I land in the Salty Lakey City. I am fully tossed by the time I arrive and I am no help to the retard driving my shuttle in finding my condo. I get in about 45 minutes late so I lay my bags inside and head out to a party being held on main street by International Creative Management. The only person of note in attendance is Guy Pierce who is sufficiently fucked up. I down a couple of Jack and Cokes and head to the bathroom for others. The party winds down and we stumble back to my boys condo with a few chicks and make with the love.
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Sundance? Hell, I Was Lucky To Sunstumble
Read Lazlo’s Entire Account Here
Sup Kids, Laz Here…
So my company is sending my warm weather loving ass to Park City UT because I have fooled them into thinking that I am a Hollywood big shot and not the fucked up drunk that I truly am. So I have packed my suitcase full of bottles of hooch and I am catching the first Delta piece of shit flying contraption and heading North to Hollywood Mormon country. Think of the potential. I may get myself married several times. I may beat me up some gays.* I may get into a drunken brawl with members of the Youth Nazi Society aka CAA agents. I make steal a car and take off Bandit style and take out Harvey Weinstein and wake up in prison with many wives. Whatever happens, there is one thing I know… I will be Drunk. Very Very Drunk.
Stay Tuned…
* This comment was made, not as a reflection of the way that Lazlo feels about homosexuals, but as a reflection of current news events that have shown that some people from this mountainous region have the wrong attitude towards those of the same sex ilk that is less than honorable. Me.. I love the gays. Can’t get enough of them. They make me laugh. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that nothing about man ass turns me on, I would totally be gay.
