The HP Spectre is a very nice looking ultra-thin all-in-one desktop with a 23-inch flush glass display, 3rd Generation Intel processors and an optional solid-state drive. Perhaps most impressive of all, it features near field communication (NFC) technology that allows easy wireless sharing of photos, contacts, websites and more, all with a simple tap of the touch-sensitive screen. In fact, the Spectre can be used in conjunction with a user’s smartphone or tablet, which then becomes like a remote control for the computer’s operation. The Spectre is expected to be available in the United States on November 14, at a starting price of $1,299. The HP ENVY 20 and ENVY 23 TouchSmart PCs and the HP Pavilion 20 All-in-One PC also feature this technology, and will be available in the United States on October 23, at even lower starting prices. These devices are all a step up from traditional non-mobile units in that they provide connectivity with mobile devices the consumer may already have.

Some of the most impressive new devices announced by HP today are its notebooks, the HP ENVY m4 Notebook, and the HP Pavilion Sleekbook 14 and 15 PCs. The latter are especially nice-looking, in sparkling black or ruby red finishes, with super-slim, lightweight design. They each weigh under four pounds and measure only 21 mm thick, and at a starting price of under $500, they offer many of the same features as most $1,000+ models.

The HP ENVY m4 Notebook, on the other hand, features faster renders and more powerful graphics than the Sleekbook series, as well as a few very innovative HP exclusive features. CoolSense is a new development from HP that keeps the exterior of the notebook cool during extended use, and SimplePass is an extraordinary new security technology that uses fingerprint identification instead of typed passwords. In fact, each of a user’s fingers can be programmed to a different website, if the user so desires. For example, your index finger could bring up Facebook, while your middle finger accesses YouTube, etc. With these and other cutting-edge devices, it is easy to see why HP remains on top of the game for both professional and consumer electronics. 

The evening began with a bit of background on Goulding, who grew up in the small town of Hereford and got heavily into music early on. “My mum was cool with music,” she says. “She would buy every new thing that was out. We really had no money, but whatever we did have, she’d spend it on CDs and tapes.” Idolizing singers like Bjork, Joni Mitchell, Beyonce and Stevie Nicks, Goulding says she quit college because “something was pushing me into music.” Elaborating on what that something is, she also says, “Having people come together for the same cause is really important. The fact that I can do that with shows is really awesome.”

Delving into “Halcyon,” we heard samples of a few tracks, including the clearly Bjork-influenced “My Blood,” which shares thematic water imagery with other songs on the album. Goulding says, “I have a fascination with the ocean, being lost at sea. I kind of want to be a mermaid.” The title track, “Halcyon,” addresses another theme of the album in its plaintive chorus: “When it’s just us, you show me what it feels like to be lonely, you show me what it feels like to be lost.” “I write songs out of being alone,” Goulding says. “I’m around people all the time, but there’s a theme of loneliness on this album.”

That is not to say the album is relentlessly downbeat or somber, however, as Goulding is quick to point out that “I like making things that give people hope, I suppose, in the least cheesy way possible.” Ellie Goulding’s career certainly seems to show a lot of hope, with unreleased collaborations with the likes of Skrillex and Swedish House Mafia possibly on the way “in the next couple of years,” proving her mantra that anything could happen.

(Photo of the Bunnies courtesy of Marylou Coyle)

As a writer / editor with Bullz-Eye.com, I’ve seen and done some pretty amazing things, from traveling to Ireland solely for the purposes of sipping whiskey to watching Snoop Dogg blow up an armored car in the name of Mafia Wars, but even as jaded as I perhaps ought to be by this point in my career, I immediately turned into a 13-year-old boy again when I got the word that one of the first parties of this summer’s Television Critics Association press tour was going to be taking place at…the Playboy Mansion.

Given all the amount of hype it’s been receiving, it would be reasonable for you to presume that this was an event being thrown in conjunction with NBC’s new drama, “The Playboy Club,” which premieres this fall. In fact, the party came about through Playboy’s own network, Playboy TV, which made their TCA tour debut back in January, courting couples to watch their new programming. But while there’s little question that this evening’s goings-on resulted in plenty of journalists writing about their experiences – I’m living proof! – it must be said that, even though there were several TV screens running trailers for Playboy TV programs on a loop, the function ultimately did more to promote the Playboy brand name as a whole than the actual network. I did walk out of the event with screeners for a couple of Playboy TV's new shows, however, so you can expect a write-up on those at some point in the future.

For now, though, here's the big thing I'm here to write about: I went to the Playboy Mansion.

Was it everything that 13-year-old me had imagined it to be? Read on and find out...

As the shuttle drove through the front gate and up the winding road leading to the Playboy Mansion, I can't pretend that I wasn't giddy with anticipation, and seeing the mansion suddenly appear off to our left only served to intensify my excitement. Basically, if you subtracted me from the above photo, you'd be looking at approximately the same sight that I was. I couldn't actually hear "The Hallelujah Chorus" suddenly begin to play, but that's probably just because I was too busy imagining how many Playmates had rolled down that grassy hill naked. And don't tell me that that's never happened, because I've already convinced myself that it has. And often.

I stepped off the bus to see a pair of Playboy Bunnies taking pictures with the guests. Yes, I had my picture taken, but, no, you can't see it: when I went to retrieve it at the end of the night, they couldn't find it, and if they managed to come up with it after my departure, they've yet to send it to me. Oh, well, at least I have my memories.

I spent the majority of the evening with a couple of the regulars from my past tales from the TCA tour: Bill Harris of the Toronto Sun and Amber Dowling of TV Guide Canada. After Amber and I hit the bar to grab a couple of the strongest bourbon and gingers you've ever had in your life - they were something like 90% bourbon and 10% ginger, leading Amber to observe, "This is why so many people end up having sex at the Playboy Mansion" - the three of us ventured into Hef's infamous grotto, which was as cool as you'd expect it to be. Yes, there were the inevitable jokes about how we were setting ourselves up to contract Legionnaire's Disease, but I'm here to tell you that the smell of chlorine was so strong that it's hard to imagine that any disease could survive in that water.

Upon exiting the grotto, it was time to indulge in some of the fantastic food that had been provided for us. On the appetizer front, I can't help but feel like the corn dogs were offered solely to be phallic (no comment on what the inclusion of crab cakes were to have signified), but they were still quite tasty. For the main courses, there were a wide variety of options, including various meats, cheeses, noodles, salads, and whatnot, but I ultimately decided to go with the sushi, which looked way too delicious to turn down.

From there, we started our stroll around the grounds. I had no idea that Hef had so many animals on the property, but there were parrots, cockatoos, toucans, peacocks, various reptiles, and many, many monkeys. Alas, we were unable to enter the mansion itself, nor were we ever favored with an appearance from Mr. Hefner itself. Rumors abounded as to why he wasn't coming out (supposedly, it wasn't his party, so he didn't feel obliged to appear), and since we never saw him, there's really no definitive proof that he was even inside, although I did hear repeated comments about how he was in the midst of a heated game of Gin Rummy. This may not be true. But if we're pretending it is, then let's also pretend that he was playing with naked Playmates.

Okay, you clearly get the idea that I've got kind of a focus on the Playmates, but I think that's pretty reasonable, given that they're almost as integral to the magazine as its articles...which, as ever, remain the official reason that I read Playboy. If you're wondering, there were indeed some Playmates onsite, giving tours of the grounds. Alas, I didn't end up taking a formal tour, and I really regret it now, as I've heard from others who did take tours that their guides offered no end of stories about various goings-on, including topless shenanigans on the tennis courts and, of course, the occasional orgies. But I still managed to see the Van Room - there's some preposterous story that Hef designed the room to look like the inside of a van because that's where he lost his virginity, but even if it's true, I doubt if that van looked quite as '70s-inspired as this room did - as well as the Red and Blue bedrooms. It was more than a little disconcerting to see stacks of towels beside the beds, but I guess it makes sense that there were copies of Playboy in the drawers of the headboards.

Given that I'm happily married and was therefore in no position to make a fool of myself by hitting on any of the hot women in attendance, the highlight of my visit to the Mansion was, oddly enough, playing "Donkey Kong." If it sounds crazy, you have to remember that I was channeling my inner 13-year-old throughout the evening. As I stood there, surrounded by Playboy memorabilia, sipping bourbon, and helping Mario save the princess, it was one of the strangest, most surreal experiences of my life. And one of the most awesome.

(Photo of the Bunnies courtesy of Marylou Coyle)

As a writer / editor with Bullz-Eye.com, I’ve seen and done some pretty amazing things, from traveling to Ireland solely for the purposes of sipping whiskey to watching Snoop Dogg blow up an armored car in the name of Mafia Wars, but even as jaded as I perhaps ought to be by this point in my career, I immediately turned into a 13-year-old boy again when I got the word that one of the first parties of this summer’s Television Critics Association press tour was going to be taking place at…the Playboy Mansion.

Given all the amount of hype it’s been receiving, it would be reasonable for you to presume that this was an event being thrown in conjunction with NBC’s new drama, “The Playboy Club,” which premieres this fall. In fact, the party came about through Playboy’s own network, Playboy TV, which made their TCA tour debut back in January, courting couples to watch their new programming. But while there’s little question that this evening’s goings-on resulted in plenty of journalists writing about their experiences – I’m living proof! – it must be said that, even though there were several TV screens running trailers for Playboy TV programs on a loop, the function ultimately did more to promote the Playboy brand name as a whole than the actual network. I did walk out of the event with screeners for a couple of Playboy TV’s new shows, however, so you can expect a write-up on those at some point in the future.

For now, though, here’s the big thing I’m here to write about: I went to the Playboy Mansion.

Was it everything that 13-year-old me had imagined it to be? Read on and find out…

As the shuttle drove through the front gate and up the winding road leading to the Playboy Mansion, I can’t pretend that I wasn’t giddy with anticipation, and seeing the mansion suddenly appear off to our left only served to intensify my excitement. Basically, if you subtracted me from the above photo, you’d be looking at approximately the same sight that I was. I couldn’t actually hear “The Hallelujah Chorus” suddenly begin to play, but that’s probably just because I was too busy imagining how many Playmates had rolled down that grassy hill naked. And don’t tell me that that’s never happened, because I’ve already convinced myself that it has. And often.

I stepped off the bus to see a pair of Playboy Bunnies taking pictures with the guests. Yes, I had my picture taken, but, no, you can’t see it: when I went to retrieve it at the end of the night, they couldn’t find it, and if they managed to come up with it after my departure, they’ve yet to send it to me. Oh, well, at least I have my memories.

I spent the majority of the evening with a couple of the regulars from my past tales from the TCA tour: Bill Harris of the Toronto Sun and Amber Dowling of TV Guide Canada. After Amber and I hit the bar to grab a couple of the strongest bourbon and gingers you’ve ever had in your life – they were something like 90% bourbon and 10% ginger, leading Amber to observe, “This is why so many people end up having sex at the Playboy Mansion” – the three of us ventured into Hef’s infamous grotto, which was as cool as you’d expect it to be. Yes, there were the inevitable jokes about how we were setting ourselves up to contract Legionnaire’s Disease, but I’m here to tell you that the smell of chlorine was so strong that it’s hard to imagine that any disease could survive in that water.

Upon exiting the grotto, it was time to indulge in some of the fantastic food that had been provided for us. On the appetizer front, I can’t help but feel like the corn dogs were offered solely to be phallic (no comment on what the inclusion of crab cakes were to have signified), but they were still quite tasty. For the main courses, there were a wide variety of options, including various meats, cheeses, noodles, salads, and whatnot, but I ultimately decided to go with the sushi, which looked way too delicious to turn down.

From there, we started our stroll around the grounds. I had no idea that Hef had so many animals on the property, but there were parrots, cockatoos, toucans, peacocks, various reptiles, and many, many monkeys. Alas, we were unable to enter the mansion itself, nor were we ever favored with an appearance from Mr. Hefner itself. Rumors abounded as to why he wasn’t coming out (supposedly, it wasn’t his party, so he didn’t feel obliged to appear), and since we never saw him, there’s really no definitive proof that he was even inside, although I did hear repeated comments about how he was in the midst of a heated game of Gin Rummy. This may not be true. But if we’re pretending it is, then let’s also pretend that he was playing with naked Playmates.

Okay, you clearly get the idea that I’ve got kind of a focus on the Playmates, but I think that’s pretty reasonable, given that they’re almost as integral to the magazine as its articles…which, as ever, remain the official reason that I read Playboy. If you’re wondering, there were indeed some Playmates onsite, giving tours of the grounds. Alas, I didn’t end up taking a formal tour, and I really regret it now, as I’ve heard from others who did take tours that their guides offered no end of stories about various goings-on, including topless shenanigans on the tennis courts and, of course, the occasional orgies. But I still managed to see the Van Room – there’s some preposterous story that Hef designed the room to look like the inside of a van because that’s where he lost his virginity, but even if it’s true, I doubt if that van looked quite as ’70s-inspired as this room did – as well as the Red and Blue bedrooms. It was more than a little disconcerting to see stacks of towels beside the beds, but I guess it makes sense that there were copies of Playboy in the drawers of the headboards.

Given that I’m happily married and was therefore in no position to make a fool of myself by hitting on any of the hot women in attendance, the highlight of my visit to the Mansion was, oddly enough, playing “Donkey Kong.” If it sounds crazy, you have to remember that I was channeling my inner 13-year-old throughout the evening. As I stood there, surrounded by Playboy memorabilia, sipping bourbon, and helping Mario save the princess, it was one of the strangest, most surreal experiences of my life. And one of the most awesome.

Maybe you did. Maybe you even watched it happen at MafiaWars.com, since the event was streamed live…and if you did watch it live, then you no doubt noticed that, despite the designated start time having been established as 6 PM PST, it didn’t actually go down ’til a little bit later.

Yeah, I noticed it, too. Except I noticed it live from the Nevada desert, since I was standing right there when the whole thing went down. And it wasn’t much of a surprise to me, since I’d been watching the events unfold for the previous two hours.

First, for those of you who didn’t see it happen, here’s a video of the event:

And, now, here’s the story of what happened and how I came to be there.

On Wednesday afternoon, I received a very kind invitation by E-mail to attend Zynga’s celebration of 10 million visitors to “Mafia Wars: Las Vegas,” namely Snoop Dogg blowing up an armored car in the middle of the Nevada desert. I thought to myself, “Okay, sounds cool, but I’m in Virginia, and I can’t exactly hop on a plane and attend.”

About half an hour later, I received a phone call, following up on the E-mail, assuring me that they’d be glad to fly me out there.

I hesitated at first, since the event was the next day, but with an assurance from my ever-wonderful wife that no one should ever turn down a trip to Vegas, especially not when it’s three days before your 40th birthday, I said, “Okay, I’ll go.”

So I went.

When I first arrived at the site designated for Snoop’s big boom, I was met with an unexpected request to sign a document which essentially said, “If anything happens to you here, it ain’t our fault.”

Given the amount of dynamite involved in this situation and no idea of my proximity to the explosion, it was hard to get enthused about signing off on such a thing, but in the end, I turned into a lemming and signed it, anyway.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried: we were placed high above the detonation site, nowhere near where the actual explosion took place.

Still, I kept my eyes peeled for shrapnel the entire time…like I’d really be able to duck, right?

Upon reaching the site, the folks from Zynga couldn’t have been more cordial, offering up drinks and sandwiches, along with “Mafia Wars” hats and sunglasses. Basically, everyone was excited about the event and ready to roll, except for one small thing: Snoop Dogg was nowhere to be found.

Actually, this was a very big thing, as we’d been assured beforehand that Snoop would be doing interviews with the journalists from 4:00 – 4:30 PM. Given that I arrived at 4 PM and sat far on the outskirts of the detonation site for an extended period of time while unsuccessfully trying to sort out a way to avoid signing the aforementioned liability waiver, I was at first concerned that I was missing my window to chat with Snoop, but then I was assured that, no, he wasn’t even there yet. And once I signed my life away and got into the area where we’d be viewing the explosion, he still wasn’t there. I felt pity in my heart for the poor people of Zynga, who were – quite understandably – freaking the hell out about the fact that Snoop wasn’t yet on site. Time was ticking ever closer to 6 PM PST, the highly-promoted time of explosion, and yet no one seemed quite sure where the designated detonator was.

Most of us, however, were relatively confident of his state of mind: while not an exact quote from anyone, I think it’s fair to say that most of us approached the situation with the mindset, “Okay, we know he’s high. But where is he?”

Kiddingly, I said to one of the publicists, “You guys did actually get him to sign something saying he was going to be here, right?” I received a hollow laugh in return, which was more than I got when I suggested that, right about then, Snoop was going to be reporting in from Las Cruces, asking, “Where everybody at? Las Vegas? Aw, hell, no…” Basically, they were trying their best to keep a stiff upper lip whilst dealing with the situation, but it was clear that there was one big overriding concern: what happens if 6 PM PST arrives and Snoop Dogg still isn’t here?

A helicopter appeared overhead. It was a news crew from one of the Las Vegas network affiliates, hovering in the vicinity in hopes of capturing the explosion live for their 6 PM newscast. It was not to be. There was a great deal of sweating going on, much of it nothing to do with the 90+ degree heat of the Las Vegas desert. 6 PM came and went, but no Snoop. Still, the Zynga folks continued to monitor the number of online viewers who had come to the site to see the blessed event, and although the established time of the explosion had come and gone, the number of viewers was continuing to rise steadily.

And then Snoop arrived.

And, oh, how the Zynga folks cheered.

Quickly, the journalists were huddled together and given the lowdown of the situation: Snoop being Snoop, there was really no guarantee that we were going to get to talk to him at all at this point, but the plan of action was that we were going to be quickly hustled into a vehicle after the explosion, taken down to Snoop’s location, and hope that he could be kept around long enough for us to chat with him. We agreed, mostly because our options were limited. If this was how we were going to be able to talk to Snoop, then so be it.

So we stood idly by, waiting to find out when the explosion was going to take place, knowing that it was likely imminent now that the man of the hour was in attendance. Someone had the live feed running nearby, and we could hear the pre-event conversations taking place. Unfortunately, what we discovered far too late was that the feed was slightly less live than we had been led to believe. Oh, it was pretty damned close to live, but much as “Saturday Night Live” is often on a several-second delay, so, we learned, was Zynga’s feed of the explosion…and we learned it when someone said, “Hey, they’re getting ready to…”

Oops.

I can assure you that it was indeed a sight to behold when that armored car exploded, with flames, metal, and money (presumably of the fake variety) flying everywhere…but, alas, all you have from me are my assurances, because the lack of any forewarning meant that not a single person standing safely on the plateau was in a position to take a shot of the explosion.

I’m not going to lie to you: I was pissed.

Not at Zynga, of course, but at Snoop, whose late arrival threw the event into a complete tizzy. And I’d love to tell you that I gave him a piece of my mind, but in the end, I was kind of caught up in the surreality of the situation. Moments after the explosion, we were indeed hustled over to a vehicle with the plan of heading down to Snoop…until, naturally, it was decided that Snoop wanted to come up to where we were, since there was an air-conditioned trailer available for him to conduct the interviews. So we got out of the vehicle and stood by the trailer…and that’s where we were standing when Snoop drove right past us and over to the collection of Zynga employees, thereby forcing us to run our asses over there instead. Actually, “run” is a pretty loose description of what I did, as I’d pretty much decided that I was tired of chasing after Snoop, resulting in a speed which was far from top gear. Once I arrived, things got even more off-track, as we were abruptly informed that, instead of each of us getting three questions with Snoop, a single journalist – Arren Anderson of Las Vegas’s Fox 5 News, to be specific – would be running point, and we were to give him our questions to ask.

So much for getting an exclusive.

Still, I had my recorder out and ready to catch every word that fell from Snoop’s lips, figuring that at least I’d be able to salvage something from the conversations. First, though, I had to endure our designated spokesperson offering up a rap that would’ve felt pretty damned white even if he hadn’t delivered it while standing next to Snoop Dogg:

“When Snoop flips the switch / This armored truck went boom / Don’t switch that dial / It’s coming up on more real soon.”

Wow.

Well, give the guy credit for having serious cajones, at least…though, in retrospect, it turned out that they were even bigger than I’d first believed: when I went to the Fox 5 News website, the video of Anderson asking questions of Snoop…some of which we’d given to him…was described as an “exclusive.” Uh, yeah, to him and everyone else who was standing in the huddle!

Anyway, here’s what I could make out from the short scrum. Given the wind blowing in and the near-whisper volume at which Snoop tends to speak, I suppose I’m lucky I got anything at all…

Were you as scared as we were?

Naw. You know me. I just came here to do what I had to do: to blow up the armored truck and destroy the evidence. That’s what it was all about: getting rid of the evidence so nobody could see what was in there. So I did my job.

Most people come to Vegas to blow off steam. You came here to blow something up.

Yeah. Same thing. You play and get away.

What is your role with “Mafia Wars”? How’d you get involved?

I’m a fan of the game. They reached out to my people and said they wanted me to be a part of this 10 millionth user blow-up in Vegas, so I said why not? Catch a plane out here and blow it up. Make me ready for my free copy of the game when it come out.

Why you? Why was this a job for Snoop?

‘Cause I’m Mafia. You know what I’m sayin’? I’m the perfect guy for the job.

How does this game fit into the O.G. lifestyle?

It’s so O.G.. It’s the game of the lifestyle. It’s the Mafia Wars. It’s the life that we dream of as young gangstas, growing up and watching it, looking at it and becoming fans of it. There’s no other video game that can really put you in there to really feel like you’re part of it. It’s perfect.

Who’s the biggest gangster? You’ve got Don Corleone, Tony Montana, Tony Soprano, or anybody else out there. Who’s on top?

Snoop Dogg. Yeah, the one and only.

Did you catch that bit about Snoop wanting his free copy of the game when it comes out? Given that he doesn’t seem entirely sure where one actually plays “Mafia Wars,” I think it’s probably a fair bet that his interest in participating in the event wasn’t necessarily influenced by a huge amount of fandom on his part.

Ultimately, though, does it really matter?

From my perspective, I can’t say as it does. I mean, I went to Las Vegas and I watched Snoop blow shit up, and for my trouble, I got my picture taken with the Doggfather himself (remind me to show it to you sometime) and an autographed “Mafia Wars” hat. Even though the event didn’t quite go as planned, it’s still very much a “what’s not to like?” situation, y’know? I don’t know that Zynga necessarily feels the same way, mind you, but if nothing else, they can write this off as a learning experience…and when “Mafia Wars” expands to its next city, I’ve got three words for them:

“Mafia Wars: Branson.”

The way I hear it, Andy Williams is as prompt as they come.