Seriously... I'm Kidding (18 page)

ROULETTE

Roulette is a lot of fun. Here’s my tip for roulette: Always bet on red. Unless red isn’t coming up, in which case you should really bet on black. Similarly, always bet on even. However, if that doesn’t work—I cannot stress this enough—you must bet on odd.

Here’s another tip: DO NOT place a Tic Tac on your winning number on the roulette wheel and think people won’t notice. They will notice. They will not get as angry with you for placing a Tic Tac on the roulette wheel as they would for, let’s say, eating a nut at a blackjack table, but they will get angry. There are cameras everywhere in casinos. Everywhere. If you think you’re alone in an elevator when you decide to look in the mirror to check if there’s anything in your teeth, you’re not. Someone in a security office is getting a horrific eyeful of the inside of your nose.

Next tip for roulette: If none of your numbers or colors or odds or evens is coming up, walk away. I mean it. Get up, turn around, and start walking. Go directly to a poker table.

POKER

You know what I always say. I say it every day and when I’m not saying it, I’m singing it. You gotta know when to hold ’em and you gotta know when to fold ’em. And you gotta never, ever, ever try to eat shelled almonds at a blackjack table, you dummy.

Now, you can know when to hold ’em or fold ’em yourself, or you can do what I do. Ask the other players at the table what they’re gonna do first, and then decide. Maybe treat it like a friendly game of go fish. “Hey, do you have an ace of spades? What about a pair of kings?” They might say “Go fish” or they might say “Go… something else.” But I think it’s worth a try.

If you find that you are not winning too many hands at poker and/or the people at your table are getting mad at you, walk away. I’ve never been more serious. Just take your fifteen shots of straight vodka and your hooker, throw your almonds in the nearest trash can immediately, and walk away. Head to the closest craps table.

CRAPS

To be honest, it’s hard for me to give you too many tips for craps because I don’t understand a thing about it. First of all, you can’t sit down, which is ridiculous. Instead, people are crowded around a table throwing things and yelling “Yo!” and “Loose deuce!” and “Give me four the hard way!” It sounds like spring break with the cast of
Jersey Shore
. My only tip for craps is—and it’s more of a request—please do not blow on the dice. Especially during cold and flu season. There are enough germs in a casino without you getting your spittle all over the place. Your lucky blow is gonna be someone else’s unlucky whooping cough.

If you find that craps isn’t a lucky game for you, walk away. Take all your chips, put them in your pockets, and—I really mean this—go straight to the cashier. Ask him or her what game they think you should try next. They usually have a feeling about these things.

Finally, whatever you do, wherever you go, whichever game you decide to play—do not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever even think about bringing a healthy snack such as an almond onto a casino floor.

Good luck.

Timeline of a Celebrity’s Day

10:00 a.m.—Gently woken up by houseboy Mañuel

10:00:07 a.m.—Quietly utter the word “snooze,” letting Mañuel know he is to return in nine minutes

10:00:08 a.m.—Dream about ponies

10:09 a.m.—Gently woken up again by houseboy Mañuel

10:09:05 a.m.—Quietly utter the words “snooze, coffee,” letting Manuel know he is to return in nine minutes with a cup of coffee

10:09:06 a.m.—Dream about ponies being friends with turtles

10:18 a.m.—Gently woken up again by houseboy Mañuel. Fed coffee.

10:25 a.m.—Carried into shower

10:30 a.m.—Bathed, shampooed, told I’m pretty by Shower Robot 3000

11:00 a.m.—Driven to work in solar-powered dune buggy

11:30 a.m.—Greeted at work by receptionist, told I’m pretty

1:00 p.m.—Fed lunch

1:30 p.m.—Yoga

2:30 p.m.—Pilates

4:00 p.m.—Tape talk show

5:00 p.m.—Helicopter home

6:00 p.m.—Fed dinner in tree house

8:00 p.m.—Read bedtime story by author of book I’m currently reading, tucked in by houseboy Mañuel, told I’m pretty and to dream of ponies

Sleep

I
just read an interesting statistic: 49 percent of people think it’s “wheel barrel,” not “wheelbarrow.” I also read that 33 percent of Americans suffer from some sort of sleep disorder. That’s a lot of people. According to my math, that means nearly 104 percent of the people reading this book right now have trouble sleeping at night.

About half of you out there are going to take sleeping pills to try and fall asleep, and I have to admit that worries me. I’m not a doctor or a mother or that older woman from
Touched by an Angel
who tried to guide people on the right path, but when I hear about friends and loved ones who are on sleeping pills, for some reason I just want to steer them away from doing that.

I know why I worry. It’s because of all the stories I’ve heard about people who do some pretty crazy things while they’re on sleeping pills—things like walking in their sleep, driving in their sleep, even eating in their sleep. Some people do more in their sleep than I do in a whole weekend.

Sleep-eating is fascinating to me. People get up in the middle of the night and start eating things they find around the house—sometimes things that aren’t even edible. And they have absolutely no memory of it until they wake up the next morning and find the remnants of a half-eaten sofa in their great room.

Some people only find out they’ve been sleep-eating after they start to gain weight. I read about someone who gained seven pounds and had no idea how. Can you imagine waking up one day full of pudding and having to ask your spouse, “Honey, quick question—did we go on a ten-day cruise last night?”

Sleep is one of the most important things we need to stay happy and healthy, and being the type of person that I am, I want to help each and every one of my sleep-deprived readers in any way I can. I thought of some things you can do to get to sleep without drugs. So if you, dear reader, are one of the millions of sufferers, please read on while I attempt to cure you.

Now, some of you are probably reading this book in bed to try and fall asleep. Silly! Unless you get tired from laughing too hard, this isn’t the kind of book that’s going to knock you out. You need to read something boring, like a story written by Harry Connick Jr. or something. Or better yet, a math or science textbook. That’ll put you right out. But by the time you find one of those lying around your house, it’s gonna be midnight. Plus, I don’t want you to have to get up from bed right now. You’ll end up tripping over a lamp cord on your way to the bookshelf. The cord will knock over the lamp, causing the lightbulb inside to shatter into a million pieces. You’ll keep walking, trying to avoid all the glass but how can you, it’s all tiny, tiny shards scattered about a shag rug. So you’ll accidentally step on a piece and you’ll scream, “Shoot!” because your New Year’s resolution was to curse less and, even though it’s hard, you’ve managed to hold pretty true to your word. Except for that one time when you jammed your finger in the car window outside church and you yelled such a specific, horrible series of expletives that you actually had to stop going to that church and go to the one in the neighboring town.

After you yell “Shoot!” your wife or husband or son or daughter will wake up from all the commotion. Your son was probably awake anyway because he just got home after sneaking out of the house to meet his friends in the mall parking lot. That’s always been your greatest fear. You worry that he goes there to cause mischief but really he’s a good kid who just wants to fit in and hang out with his friends. He’s actually never even touched a cigarette let alone smoked one, or smoked anything for that matter. I mean, one time he tried cocaine but that was only because his friends told him it was sugar and who doesn’t love sugar? Especially after sleeping with a hooker. I’m not saying your son slept with a hooker, I’m just saying everyone loves sugar.

So your son runs into the living room to see what happened. He finds you clutching your foot, which is bleeding from the glass, muttering curses under your breath. It’s actually a nice moment because he gets you some ice and asks if you’re okay. You tell him you are and you ask him if you can borrow one of his algebra textbooks because you’re having trouble sleeping. Turns out he’s a senior in high school and he hasn’t taken algebra in three years, he takes calculus now. He gets upset that you don’t know anything about him, yells something about his “real dad,” and storms out of the house. But he never tells you where his calculus books are, so you’re back to square one, only worse off because of the glass in your foot and the sadness in your heart.

So what I’ve done for you is included some math equations here in this chapter. You just have to read them and you’ll be dreaming of rainbows or puppies or being naked in English class in no time at all.

E=MC
²
. Are you still awake?

The square root of 144 is 12. Still up?

If a train carrying cargo pants is traveling due east at 50 miles an hour and a bus carrying bananas is traveling north at 60 miles an hour, how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Have you fallen asleep yet?

Okay, if that didn’t do the trick, I have more help to offer. People love to count sheep to go to sleep. But that can be hard, too, because you have to get out of bed, find a reputable shepherd in your area, and hope they can deliver you over 109 sheep on a moment’s notice. So what I’m going to recommend instead is that you count—stay with me—imaginary sheep. Yep, that’s why they pay me the big bucks. For ideas like that.

Let’s do it together. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Fourteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Forty-eight. You know what, I’m not great at counting. Let’s move on.

I have one more idea. This will work best if you pretend I’m hovering over your face swinging a pocket watch from side to side. Stare straight ahead. You’re getting very sleeeeeeepy. Verrrrrryyyyy sleeeeeepyyyyyyyyy. Verrrrryyyyyy—wait! WAKE UP! I just realized something very important. I don’t want you waking up in the morning, going to work, and telling people you fell asleep last night reading my book. That would be horrible! What would they think?! They would think my book is boring and dull. I can’t have that. Wake up! Go get yourself a cup of coffee, pour some Red Bull in it, splash some cold water on your face, and read on!

Letter to Mall Security

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing in regard to your letter dated March third where you cite my potential involvement in what your company has deemed the “Vase Breaking Incident.”