Here I Go, Ridin' Off Into The Sunset. Alone. Again...

Ok, I can't just leave you guys for two months with nothing, so I'm re-posting one of my favorite stories that took place a long time ago in a neighborhood not-too-far away. A lot of you have read or heard this before, but some of you may have missed it. Regardless, it's a favorite of mine, always brings a lot of laughs, and I think it's a good sendoff before I pull the plug for a couple of months. Enjoy!


I remember one Friday night back in the go-go days of the technology bubble of 1999. At the time, the four of us original gangsters were working together at Schwab, making decent money, huge bonuses, and day-trading our own accounts, thinking the party would never end. Between our own trades, Derek placed a few for clients, Ed W managed a team of eight brokers, I taught option trading classes to the rookies and did margin sellouts, and Eddie B was in charge of putting the hammer down on those clowns who exceeded their buying power. We were all pretty good at what we did and were rewarded generously every quarter for our hard work.

The cool thing about the quarterly bonuses was that they were paid on Fridays, thus guaranteeing an entire weekend of irresponsible behavior. Usually, ‘Bonus Friday’, for me, went like this—

1) Skip out of the office as soon as possible after the market closed.
2) Run down to the cigar store and pick up some fine stogies.
3) Meet up with the fellas at Aunt Chilada’s for happy hour.
4) Get drunk and stupid and hit on all the girlies we met.
5) After not scoring any love at happy hour, head over to the Highlighter with the fellas for lap dances and a little voluntary wealth redistribution.
6) Call it a night.

This particular time, the bonuses were so generous, that damn near every dude that worked at Schwab was at the strip club, so there were no good seats available, and getting four seats together was deemed a fruitless endeavor. So instead of dumping $300 or so, one Hamilton at a time, into the g-strings of chicks who only pretended to like us, we all took off and headed for the driving range.

It was late evening on a Friday night, and we were the only ones at the course besides the ranger and greens keepers. Derek was smart enough to make a quick stop and pick up (and sneak in) a cold twelve pack, and the four of us stood out there hitting golf balls, smoking cigars, drinking beer, and talking smack under the lights for about an hour when Eddie came up with the Best Idea Ever…

Hey, why don’t we road trip to Vegas tonight?

At first we all needed to be sold on the idea—we had no hotel reservations, it was already after 9:00 pm on Friday night, and we had to be back at work on Monday morning at 7:00 am. But we had plenty of money in our pockets and just enough alcohol in our systems to make it sound like a workable plan.

We agreed that in order to make it happen, we’d have to commit immediately. Of course, I was in. Ed was recently single again, and if the three of us went, Derek wouldn’t have anything to do for the rest of the weekend anyways, so he was in by default.

It. Was. On.

The plan was for everyone to run home, pack a bag, and then meet up at midnight at Ed W’s house since he lived in north Phoenix and was technically closer to Vegas than the rest of us.

Eddie B drew the short straw and had to drive, since 1) it was his idea, and 2) he was the only one with a four-door vehicle. He also went above and beyond and reserved us ONE room at the Westward Ho, because, according to him, nobody else would allow Saturday check-in.

We were on the road out of Phoenix before 1:00 am, and of course traffic was a breeze. Hell, we barely had to slow down to cross Hoover Dam.

Although we dozed most of the way up, we were wide awake and eager to Get Our Vegas On as soon as we saw the lights of the Strip glowing in the pre-dawn darkness.

Knowing we couldn’t get our room for several hours, and not wanting to sleep anyways, we decided to get our blackjack fix at the nearest available casino. But we’re not *total* degenerates, so we overruled Ed W and bypassed the Hacienda and the Railroad Pass and made our way to the Tropicana.

We managed to get a $5 shoe game all to ourselves, and spent the next five hours playing the blackjack combined with the WORST drinking game ever. The game was, if all four of us got a blackjack in the same shoe, during the shuffle we’d order a round of tequila and do a shot. If anyone got more than one blackjack, they had to do two shots.

At three to four shoes an hour, that’s a lotta tequila…

Eddie was breaking even, Derek lost his ass, and Ed and I were on fire, so we were the ones chugging the most booze. And it wasn’t the good stuff like Patron or Don Julio. Nope, straight up Jose Cuervo. At least they were kind enough to chill it first.

Finally, around 11:00 am or so, we decided to get out of there. I was up almost $400, as was Ed. Eddie B didn’t have too much damage to his bankroll, but since Derek was down a couple hundy and never had to double up on the shots, he was our designated driver. We ended up stumbling into the Riviera coffee shop, taking advantage of some sort of all-you-can-eat pancake deal, trying to absorb some of the alcohol.

After lunch we somehow made it across the strip and checked into our luxurious motel room there in the rear of the Westward Ho.

Eddie had arranged for two queens and a rollaway bed, but there were four of us, so we had a dilemma on our hands. We decided to settle it the old fashioned way and have a quick Rochambeau tournament. Rock-paper-scissors, baby. I beat Derek and Ed beat Eddie, so Eddie and Derek had to spoon up together on the one queen bed, then Ed’s rock crushed my scissors, so he got the other queen bed to himself and I ended up with the rollaway.

We got settled in, and as tired and drunk as I was, I was all for taking a quick two-or-three-hour nap before going back out, but the guys would have no part of it. It was to be a marathon weekend, and sleep wasn’t really a priority. So we headed out again.

Wanting to stay close and avoid driving, we walked up to the Stardust for more gambling and buffoonery. We played some dice for awhile, looked at some futures bets in the sports book, and ended up at another blackjack table for the balance of the afternoon, with the same brilliant drinking game going on.

It’s amazing how good the cocktail service is when you really don’t want to drink…

So we sat there, glued to our seats, playing blackjack for about seven hours straight. And at some point—as you may have already guessed—due to all the tequila and lack of sleep, the wheels came off.

No, I didn’t get sick or anything like that, but my position in the pack went from ‘Alpha Dog’ to ‘Giant Drunken House Pet That Will Do Anything We Tell Him To’.

The blackjacks kept coming, which meant that the tequila shots kept coming too, along with the required stupidity.

I remember at some point saying, just a little too loudly, that we "needed to see some titties", because we’d gotten shut out the night before, and the old-ass cocktail waitresses just weren’t cuttin’ it. Somebody in our group, thinking that it was probably a better idea to leave the casino on our own before getting thrown out, suggested that we head over to Déjà Vu and get some lappies and bed dances.

So we colored up, hit the cage, and caught a cab for the quick trip to Industrial, one step ahead of casino security.

I don’t know if we had to pay cover, had to pay the cab driver, or had to pay the bouncer—I was completely smashed by that point, barely able to walk. I remember one of my pals suggesting that I switch to bottled water, because by then I was just drinking whatever they put in front of me.

One of the favorite strip club traditions amongst my buddies is that we’ll always scout out the nastiest, skankiest chick in the joint, call her over, and buy a lap dance for one of the other guys, offering her a little extra cash if she makes the dance ‘extra special’ for the victim recipient. It’s always funniest to do it to Derek, since he will only get dances from blonde super-hotties, so it’s the highest of high comedy to find a chubby biker girl with bad teeth and too many tattoos and send her his way. That never gets old.

Of course, since I was no longer calling my own shots, Eddie thought it would be good entertainment to send me a dance from a gal who I swear looked just like Reggie Miller. They were even chanting “Reggie… Reggie…” as she was grinding on me.

I was beyond caring at that point, and the combination of Skank Ho and tequila had conspired to keep me far from turned on and I wasn’t really enjoying the experience. So instead, I was dropping gems like “Hey guys, next time could you do me a favor and arrange a dance from Cheryl Miller, instead? I prefer chicks…” or “Hey Reggie, would you rather sink a three in front of Spike or dunk on Shaq?” My buddies were laughing at my antics, but I think she finally snapped when she turned around and put her ass in my face and I said “Hey dudes, check it out—She has THREE brown eyes!!!”

Well kids, that’s where the story gets interesting.

She didn’t like that remark, so she thought she’d be funny and pressed her nasty smoked ham directly on my face, so I pushed her away. Well, she was off balance, and immediately knocked over a table full of drinks trying to right herself, cursing me the whole time and then she turned around to get all up in my grill. Two bouncer/security types came hustling over just about the time I stood up to back her off. Suddenly, everyone in the joint was watching me, thinking I was going to brawl with an NBA stripper.

But they pulled her away and one of the bouncer guys started getting on my case about how I should respect the ladies or some other such nonsense. I wasn’t in the mood for listening to that toad, so in my drunken state, I said “F*ck this—I’m going back to the hotel. My buddies were kind of in shock at the time and were sitting there looking at each other with the “What now?” look on their faces.

Not exactly coherent at the time, I didn’t realize that when I stood up, my denim shorts had dropped to my ankles, leaving my yellow and white Homer Simpson boxers glowing under the black lights for all to see.

I took one step towards the door, tripped over my shorts, and went down in a heap.

The bouncer types tried to help me up, but in my drunken state, I thought they were trying to tackle me or arrest me or something, so I broke free and sprinted for the door, stepping out of my shorts and leaving them laying on the floor behind me, with my buddies sitting there pissing their pants laughing.

I kept running, like Forrest Gump did that day after Jenny disappeared. But since I’m so out of shape, I only got about 75 yards down the street before I was winded. I could hear the bouncer guys yelling at me to come back, and Ed, Eddie, and Derek joining in the chorus too.

But I would have none of it.

Disregarding my pants, my buddies, and common sense, I caught my second wind and started trotting off down the street in the general direction of the Westward Ho. A taxicab came by and slowed down, obviously amazed by my awesome physique and fetching undershorts. I tried to get him to stop so I could catch a ride, but as soon as I got up to the drivers’ side door, he floored it and took off.

In a stunning coincidence that defies all odds and would probably never happen again in a million years, a big bald guy who was about my same size and age decided that it would be a good idea to rob a convenience store three blocks away at the exact same time that I was getting my last lapdance of the trip...

Taking a page from the drunken Mikey playbook, he too made his escape on foot. So now there were TWO big bald guys running the streets near Industrial, one was a criminal, the other was just a drunk with no pants on.

At the time, however, I had no idea that this was happening.

Suddenly, there were about a dozen cop cars speeding up and down the streets in that area, lights flashing, sirens wailing, doing the perp hunt. But the drunken paranoia I was experiencing said that they were obviously after me.

So when I heard a siren go off about a half block behind me, the only logical thing for me to do was turn down a side street and dive under a tour bus that was parked on the side of the road, skinning up my knees and elbows.

Yes folks—I’m living proof that loads of tequila is always helpful in the decision-making process.

Catching my breath, I thought I was free from everyone who was obviously chasing me. Of course, I was too far in the bag to realize that there was no way the bouncers at the strip club could’ve had the police there that fast, but in my state of mind, they were after me.

In fact, they wanted me so bad that they sent the K-9 unit! And I wasn’t under that damn bus for thirty seconds before I knew the jig was up.

Yep, that barking noise I heard was not somebody out taking the dog for an evening stroll, but Officer Fido coming to take a big bite out of my ass. About that time I figured it was time to stop living like a fugitive, turn myself in, and face the music for insulting the stripper and causing her to dump over a table full of drinks.

Fine—I’ll pay for the broken glass! Just call the damn dog off!, I heard myself yelling to anyone who would listen.

In a moment of clarity, I thought the response was a bit excessive, but I just chalked it up to all those times as a kid when my dad told me there was no crime in Vegas. Damn—the old man was right--These boys had their shiat wired!

I crawled out from under the bus, drunk, bleeding, cut up, hands in the air, contrite—basically a perfect candidate for the next episode of COPS. Of course, I wasn’t even 300 yards from the strip club, so in addition to three cop cars, several officers, and a police dog witnessing my finest hour, one of the bouncers was there, along with Derek and Ed, and finally I saw Eddie standing there holding my pants and talking to the officer in charge of this particular train wreck.

I, however, was the center of attention, standing there on the side of the road in my boxers, sporting a new set of matching bracelets.

In another lucky coincidence, the words “Suspect in custody” came across everyone’s radio just a minute or two later, lending a little bit of credibility to Eddie’s story that I was just a dumb paranoid drunk running away from the strip club and not an armed criminal. Everyone else, of course had a big laugh while I sheepishly just put my pants on, relieved that I wasn’t going to jail. At least not for armed robbery...

I did, however, get a stern talking to about public drunkenness and running from the cops, but they had bigger fish to fry, so I was free to go after only a few minutes once they realized I wasn’t much of a danger to anyone but myself and the occasional exotic dancer.

My boys, however, thought it was the Greatest Thing They’d Ever Witnessed, and gave me endless shiat about it as we made our way back to the hotel.

I took a long hot shower once we got back, and spent some quality time pulling the cinders out of my knees, elbows, and palms before crashing in the rollaway, hard. I also had a pretty good gash on my leg that in any other circumstance probably would’ve required stitches, but after all that, I was content to just bandage it up and go. I didn’t feel like retelling the story to a doctor at the Quick-Care center, so I went to bed.

My boys weren’t in nearly as bad of shape as I was, and spent the balance of the evening playing blackjack and craps there at the Ho.

The next morning, I was so hungover and stiff that I could barely move. I was miserable. The only bright spot of the visit was that I was up over $600 on Sunday morning, and we were headed back to Phoenix.

We checked out of the hotel, hobbled out to the parking lot, and poured ourselves into Eddie’s car before hitting the road. Breakfast consisted of bottled water, Advil, and McDonald’s drive-through. I slept all the way back home instead of listening to my boys feed me smack for four hours.

It was a very rough weekend, but one that I’ll never forget.

Of course, once we got back to the office on Monday morning, that story had made it around the entire building before 9:00 am. Walking around with a limp was all I could do to get people to feel sorry for me.

But chicks dig scars, and I still have one on my leg that serves as a reminder that you should never drink tequila all day long, never get a lapdance from a chick that looks like an NBA player, and never ever run from the cops in Vegas.



I'll see ya when I see ya...


Mikey

Can't Get Rid Of Me Yet **UPDATED**

So, y'all thought you were done with me after today, huh? Well, I may be taking a hiatus from the keyboard for a couple of months, but I'll still be lurking around the blogosphere. In fact, tomorrow night I'll be a guest on the Aging Nymphs BlogTalk radio show, talking about this website.

I don't have a proper link to it right now, but Linda Lou will send be sending me one later this afternoon/evening once she gets a few minutes away from that whole work thing. I just wanted to give you all a heads-up, just in case you had nothing else to do tomorrow night. Besides, there is also a link to the radio show's main page over on Linda's website. If you want, you can go over there and try and listen to an archived show just to make sure that you computer has the proper software working so that you hear the show.

I'm pretty sure I'll be on around 7:10 pm Pacific time on Wednesday night, if you want to hear it live. But if you can't listen right then, it'll be up in the archives within a day or so.


Mikey

Update-- Here's the email I got from Linda with the info:

Hey. Mikey—

Thanks again for agreeing to do our show tomorrow night. It’ll be fun!

Listeners can go to www.blogtalkradio.com/agingnymphs and click on the show title to listen live. To join the conversation, they can call (347) 215-9937 (number will display on the screen) or they can come back anytime and listen to the archives.

You’re the best!

XOXO

Linda

Work All Night

... Sleep all day

Hey, isn't that some cheesy hair band rock anthem? Well, I think it is, and it popped into my head as I made my way back to Casa de Mikey this morning. Had a good night at work, and now I'm kinda beat.

I'm feeling much better, but it's because I've been home resting for the past few days instead of being out collecting germs from the various women-folk I run with. In fact, my gal Hailey called me a couple of days ago asking if I was sick since she hadn't heard from me since last Sunday, and I told her that yep, I was under the weather all week. She said she's been out of commission also. Of course I blamed my illness on her funky germs, and she blamed hers on me. Either way, we were both down for the count for a few days. I'm feeling *much* better now, although I can tell I'm still not quite 100% yet. But it's getting there.

I still don't have all my strength back--being locked down at work for several hours last night really kicked my ass. I'm not complaining--I prefer it that way, but man, when I was finally done, I was draggin'.

Besides going to the bank to deposit a few hundies in a couple of hours, I've got no plans for the day except to lie around reading and relaxing. Yesterday, I got a visit from Amazon-Claus, and I spent several hours reading when I should've been sleeping--that probably contributed to my current state of exhaustion. I got one history book that completely sucked ass--I blew through it in less than an hour and was completely disappointed, but then I started reading Bill Simmons' latest edition of Now I Can Die In Peace, which is highly entertaining. I'm already almost 200 pages into it because I couldn't put it down. And the bonus is that it gives me something of his to read while I wait for him to get over his ridiculous NBA obsession and turn towards the football season.

I figure that once I finish this book off, my three Hornblower books will arrive and that'll give another week's worth of material. But then again, this is a holiday weekend coming up, so I figure I'll probably be at the casino pushing chips around the table for several days.

On the kitchen front, I found a few Thai recipes that I'm going to try as soon as I get a new wok, and I'm also going to try my hand with coconut rice. Also, as soon as I get a new dining room table and some individual casserole crocks, I'm going to try Coquille St. Jacques. I love me some scallops, and the fancy French version will give me a good excuse to go buy a couple of bottles of good wine. But y'all will have to wait until September to read about that--I've got a vacation coming up.

Mikey

More Reading, Less Poker

After my run of ridiculous bad luck at the 'M' the other night, I've decided to take a week or so off from the poker tables. And while I generally feel like playing poker is a positive expectation game for me, right now, I just don't want to take the chance on taking a hit to the bankroll with another slew of bills due in a few days.

So I've been chillin' here at the new apartment--something I find that I really enjoy, now that I live by myself. It had been so long that I'd forgotten all the small joys of having one's own space. Of course, having a sweet TV helps, but then again, most of the time, there ain't shiat to watch. I've already seen every episode of Deadliest Catch and No Reservations at least three times, AMC seems to show Clear & Present Danger about six times a day, (and it was a sucky movie anyways), and while I love me some History Channel, Food Network, and Discovery, I will *never* watch anything that has to do with aliens, ghosts, bigfoot, mummies, or Rachael Ray.

It's also too getting too hot to do anything outside except go to the pool, and for the past three or four days, the maintenance crew here has drained the pool and are working on resurfacing it. So swimming is out of the question. Oh, and I'm still a couple of days away from kicking this head cold, so I don't feel like doing much except reading and cooking (although my appetite is still on the wane due to being kinda sick).

Thankfully the NBA season is finally over, and now that the draft is behind us, maybe Bill Simmons' column will be readable again. In the meantime, I've been doing a lot of other reading. Most of my books have been sealed up and stored for over two years, and some of them I've never even read, and some of them are almost ten years old. But I've been unpacking them all, and it seems that I've lost a storage tote somewhere. I cannot find my guitar notebooks anywhere, and while I can't name any specific titles, it feels like I'm missing some of my other books.

Oh well, at least I'm pretty much all unpacked now. And I see that I have some empty shelf space, too...

Over the past two days, I found and read the first two Back Bay editions of C.S. Forester's Hornblower saga, Mr. Midshipman Hornblower and Lieutenant Hornblower, both of which were fantastically fun to read. Normally, besides Tom Clancy novels, I'm not much of a fiction guy--I prefer history books--but well-written historical fiction is quite enjoyable.

Of course, absorbing that much Royal Navy adventure in so short a time has left me wanting for more. So this morning, I broke my promise to myself that I'd buy nothing but necessities until there was a new couch in my living room--I got onto Amazon and ordered the next three volumes in the series. That'll give me the first five out of the eleven total Hornblower books , and I'm sure that by the end of the summer, I'll have read the entire saga. (I'm also waiting on another shipment of a couple of other books, but I ordered them before I decided to stop spending money).

And even though I'm still a bit sick and kind of not hungry, I find that eating one meal a day of cheese, crackers, and apple slices just doesn't cut it. So this morning I felt like I had to make some sort of substantial meal.

So I broke out the big cast iron skillet, cooked up a pound of breakfast sausage, made a roux with real butter and bacon drippings (Oh yeah!), added some white and black pepper, mixed in a bit of milk, and let the whole mess simmer for a bit while I baked up a pan of biscuits. While watching an episode of Triple-D on the Travel Channel awhile back, I saw that one of the diners used maple syrup in their gravy recipe, so added about a quarter cup to mine, too.

Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction where Uma Thurman is in the restroom at Jack Rabbit Slims, does a line of coke on the counter, then stands straight up with a slight quiver and yells in the mirror "Gott-damn!!!"?

Well, that was my reaction when I took my first bite. It was outstanding.

I may have been in kitchen exile for the better part of the last year, but I still got mad skillz. This was probably one of the best batches of sausage gravy that I've ever made. And lucky for me there are leftovers, too.

Anyhow, there's not much else of interest going on around here. I'm just gonna enjoy the peace and quiet, the cool breeze from the air conditioner, and perhaps a rum drink or two, and spend most of my weekend reading and waiting for the phone to ring.

Mikey

Thumbs Up

While kicking around the house this morning, enjoying my coffee and relaxing, I sat down in front of my favorite new toy.

Usually, daytime TV really is a vast wasteland, but I scrolling through the channels, I stumbled upon a diamond in the rough. I landed on the Encore Drama channel about five minutes into a movie I'd never heard of called Greenfingers. But it was interesting enough to hook me in, and I decided to give it a few minutes worth of attention.

Anyhow, I found it quite entertaining and ended up watching the whole thing. It was actually a very good movie, kinda funny, and a bit of that underdog, power-of-the-human-spirit kind of uplifting tale. I don't think it won any awards or got much critical acclaim, but it was a nice enjoyable feel-good flick.

Basically, it's a tale about a bunch of convicts in an open-style British prison who take to gardening, and catch the attention of a famous gardener (it's a British movie, so I'm guessing gardeners are celebrities over there like chefs are over here). Anyhow, with a few plot twists and turns, she convinces them to compete in a national gardening competition.

It pretty much follows the predictable underdog movie formula, but then again, it's a formula that people find entertaining, and I really got a kick out of it. And one-liners are almost always funnier with a British accent, so it's got that going for it, too.

I looked it up on Amazon, and while the DVD is no longer in print, it can still be found out there. It's certainly worthy enough to get on your Netflix list, and I'm sure that Encore will play it again. So if you get a chance to see it, check it out. I think you'll like it.

Mikey

42 Bottles of Booze On The Wall

While making a pot of coffee a few minutes ago, I decided to count all of the bottle of booze I have. Yes folks, there are 42 different bottles, 15 of which are some variety of rum. The rest--decent stuff like Bailey's, Kahlua, assorted vodkas, two bottles of Crown, and then some weird shiat like Blue Curacao to round out the collection.

So if anybody is thirsty, come on by. I have a blender, a cocktail shaker, and a bunch of ice cubes, too. Not to mention a mini-fridge full of Amber Bock.

Mikey

Pinche Rio

OK, I think that today, I'm just gonna lie around the house and whimper for a few hours.

I'm still under the weather, and you know how it is with a cold--you always feel like shiat in the morning. And this morning, I definitely feel like I've been run over by a large angry vehicle.

Yesterday was a fun day, though. I met up with Big Drew from Wisconsin--we had lunch at Grimaldi's. I hadn't been there in over a month, so it nice that he chose it as a place to meet up. The pizza was excellent, of course.

After we finished eating and catching up, Drew and his wife wanted to head over to the M Resort and check it out, so I gave them easy directions from the restaurant, and I headed out to run a couple of errands. I still haven't found the post office in my new neighborhood, but since Grimaldi's is so close to the old 'dog house', I headed over there to the post office that was damn near directly across the street from my old place.

Now, the main Vegas post office across from the airport on Sunset is a model of efficiency, but the 89012 outpost on Horizon Ridge is staffed by the most ridiculous collection of inept morons ever to pass a civil service exam. I *hate* going in there because it's always a clusterf*ck, and a thirty second transaction always manages to take five minutes. Even if there are only four cars in the parking lot, I know that at least a half-hour of my life is going to be wasted.

Well, thankfully they got a new toy there--an ATM style stamp dispenser. Normally, I'd just buy stamps at the grocery store, but twice this week I'd been shot down--both stores were out of stamps. That's the only reason I broke down and went directly to the source. Anyhow, in the past, that particular post office had a vending machine, but it was always out of the 'Forever' stamps, it only took cash, and unless I wanted to spend $40+ on a hundred of them, I usually had to wait in line.

But the new ATM-style stamp machine saved me the trouble this time. I bought a book of 18 with my debit card and was out of there in less than a minute. The six people in line, of course, had that exasperated look of DMV patrons, all knowing that they'd be there for the long haul, while the morons behind the counter took full advantage of the fact that they were indeed being paid by the hour, not per-customer.

I also hit the local Smith's grocery store for a few things--normally I've been going to the WallyWorld super center, but as big as their grocery section is, they seem to have a limited selection of things (like salsa), their produce ain't that great, and they ridiculously over-charge for bread. But with stamps and groceries in hand, I made it home and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon.

Around six in the evening, one of my gals called, seeing if I wanted to go play some poker. I did, but I didn't want to go the same room she was looking to play in--I wanted to go back over to the M. She didn't want to drive all the way out there, so I told her maybe I'd just meet up with her later.

I took a shower and got dressed, then called down to the M poker room and had them put my name on the waiting list. When I got there, I was still about 7 or 8 spots down on the waiting list, so I was hoping that they'd just open a new table. That didn't happen, so I just sat in the sports book watching the College World Series.

But while I was sitting there, I saw my favorite dealer, that cute gal with the kookie blond hair and the pierced tongue. She was just getting up from a game and saw me, so she came over to say hello, asking me where I'd been for the past month.

Mikey, I haven't seen you since before you headed off to Phoenix for the Jimmy Buffett concert!

True, I'd been gone awhile--I spent a week in Phoenix, then a week or so moving, and then after that, the bad beat jackpot over at Stations was so high that I was either working every night or playing there trying to get a piece of the action. So I hadn't been to the M in quite some time. (Actually, I went there on Sunday with my gal Hailey, and we played cards for a few hours and went to dinner, but my favorite dealer is off on Sunday and Mondays).

Anyhow, we spent a few minutes chit-chatting and catching up and then they decided to go ahead and open a new game--and since she was the break dealer, she would start it. Nice! So we sat down and a few other players came over, but then they realized that there was no rake-box under the table--it was just a big empty bracket--the box was never replaced after they did the drop the night before. So, they couldn't use the table.

We were getting ready to move to another one when a seat opened up in the main game and they called my name. So I went over there to play.

Unfortunately, I was just card dead for about two hours. I couldn't get a 'mustache card' to save my life and up until around 11:00 pm or so, I'd only had three pocket pairs for the entire session. Jacks, which of course lost. Pocket Jacks always lose. Sixes, which were no good after the flop, and Fives, which actually won a small pot for me when I flopped and outside straight and turned the winner, only for it to cost me a bet when the third heart hit the river. Grrrr... I still won the pot, but I couldn't bet the river from early position.

Anyhow, I was running so badly--a never-ending parade of stuff like 6-3, 9-2, 7-4--that I asked for a seat change and got it when somebody finally called it a night.

I should've just stayed put, because in one hour, I flopped two-pair five times! Unfortunately, I was rivered by a three or four-outer each and every time. It was just ridiculous--I've never seen so many people make ridiculous suck-outs on the river against me--it was like I was playing four games at a time on Poker Stars. It was just an endless string of bad beats. And of course, every time I'd flop four to a flush, I never got there, but everyone else did, so suited cards only cost me more money.

There was one huge pot that I felt I was sure I was going to win--I had Nines full of Jacks, and when all was said and done, it was about a $150 pot. Of course, somebody else had the same thing, so we split it. My best hand of the night ended up being a split pot--that's how bad I was running.

On my last hand of the night, I had Six-Five of hearts on the big blind. There were six limpers, so I just checked when it came to me. The flop came out Six-Five-Deuce, so I bet right out, and everyone called. The turn brought a King, so I bet again and got a couple of callers. It was a nice pot by then, so I was anticipating finally getting nice payoff. The river brought a Three, there was no possible flush out there, so I bet. Of course some jackass called, and when I showed my two pair, he turned over 9-4 offsuit to make his inside straight.

Unbelievable run of bad luck.

I was so fed up by that time--stuck almost $180--that I didn't even play my small blind or button. I had $14 left in front of me and I was just pissed off. So I got up from the game, went over to the table where my favorite gal with the kookie hair was dealing, waited for her to push her pot, and then gave her all of the shrapnel I had left and said goodnight. No use standing in line at the cashier for fourteen bucks.

It was just a sucky night all around.

I got out of there sometime after midnight, tired, pissed off, and hungry. No, there was no chance of going to the Red Cup Cafe for breakfast--the staff there seems to have taken customer service lessons from the doofusses there at the Horizon Ridge post office. So I just came home, fixed myself a pimento & cheese sammich and watched TV for a couple of hours.

Finally, when I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, I took some medicine and put a mellow big-band CD in the player and went to bed.

I'm hoping today turns out a little better, although I don't have a thing on the agenda. I'm gonna chill out here at the house, do a few chores and whatnot, and just relax today. I'm still not feeling well, but it's nothing that a pot of coffee and some good drugs won't fix. Maybe later tonight I'll bang around in the kitchen some--one of the cocktail waitresses at work hooked me up with some homemade tortillas and refried beans two nights ago, so I might marinade a flank steak or something and make some burritos or fajitas.

Mikey

More 'Vacation' Stuff

Wow--over 50 comments! It's nice to be loved, that's for sure. But Dougie was right--with that many comments, you'd expect to find a coleslaw recipe tucked in there somewhere in that post.

Anyhow, thank you all for your outpouring of support and understanding. No, I'm not going away permanently--Even if I wanted to, I think after a couple of weeks I'd get the itch and post something. But knowing that I get to take a 'leave of absence', well, I think it'll do me some good. I'm kinda sorry that some of people are a little bitter and disappointed and feel let down, but you know what? Them's the breaks...

Keeping up a blog like this is a lot of hard work. And it began to feel like a part-time job--a part time job that doesn't pay much, either. And I don't need that pressure in my life. Besides, Linda cursed me with a quote that I can't un-hear when she told me "I only do things that bring me joy. If it doesn't bring me joy, well, I just don't do it". Sage advice, but I think I've taken it to heart. Not that I don't enjoy writing, but sometimes it's a chore, and a lot of times I only did it because I've felt obligated to. I don't know why that is, I don't owe anybody anything, but I think it has to do with a midwestern work-ethic combined with 20 years of guilt-inducing Mormonism (Hey, the Catholics got nothin' on the Mormons when it comes to telling you what a sinner you are!). I may be inherently lazy, but when something has to be done, I usually do it without too much complaint.

Sometimes, however, there just wasn't any joy to be found. But that's on me, not on you folks. I appreciate all the support and feedback I've gotten over the years. And it's always nice to know that people enjoy your work.

Anyhow, I don't know if there's really a point to this post, maybe just a little clarification was needed. But all is well and life is pretty good. And once I take a little me-time, I'll be back in the saddle again, and hopefully better than ever.

Mikey

Down Goes Frazier!

Man, I sure would like to find out who it was that gave me this head cold and kick them directly in the ass. Is there nothing worse than having a cold in the middle of summer?

I pulled an all-nighter at work last night, locked down the whole time, which is always a good thing, but this morning when I was getting ready to leave, my boss heard me sniffling a bit and trying to suppress a cough and said "You can't be getting sick on me now".

Unfortunately, I've already been sick for several days, and although the common cold takes about two weeks to run it's course, I'm right in the middle of the worst of it. Luckily for me I had plenty of drugs handy, else I would've never made it all the way through my shift. And I can never afford to miss any work, especially right now.

Once the morning crew came in, I was glad to be able to get out of the casino, take some medicine, and get some breakfast (What is that saying "Starve a fever, feed a cold"?). Nothing like beer and pancakes to make ya feel better. But once I got home, man, I crashed hard. I could barely keep my eyes open once I got in the front door.

But it's been like that for the past couple of days--I've been busier than hell for a few days, and just haven't gotten enough rest. Until today, that is. I got a good five hours of sleep without interruption. I heard my phone go off a couple of times, but it was just out of reach and I didn't feel like making the effort to grab it. Oh well.

I really wish I was feeling better--I've got a couple of days off later this week and I wanted to play in at least one, if not more, of the Binion's Poker Open tournaments over the next several days. As much as I was looking forward to this series of tourneys, I've only managed to get into one of them so far. I wanted to play this past Sunday, but I was just feeling too poorly. One lesson that I've learned the hard way is *not* to play cards unless I'm feeling 100%. In hindsight there is nothing more stupid than thinking "Well, if I go bust on this hand, at least I can go home and get some rest..." Seriously--that's just poor judgment. Besides, in this town, there will *always* be another game or another tournament tomorrow. No need to be miserable and lose money at the same time.

Anyhow, I wish there were more going on around here, but my adventures are somewhat curtailed until I kick this bug. Oh, and by the way, I *still* have my sense of smell, but rest easy--I won't be buying anymore Zicam nasal spray once this bottle is gone.

I just wish somebody would make some wasabi-based cold medicine--that always seems to work, and it tastes good, too.

Mikey

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Hey Gang... I've got an announcement to make that some of y'all ain't gonna like.

I'm taking a vacation.

No, I'm not going anywhere (as far as you know), but I am going to take a break from the keyboard for a little while. After almost seven years of trying to be creative, I think I've become a little burnt out. I find myself using too many adverbs, repeating the same movie lines and song lyrics over and over again, and damn, if I had a dollar for every time I wrote about having to go to the bank or do laundry, I'd never have to work again.

Basically, I'm just getting kinda bored. The thrill is gone. In fact, I've actually considered just shutting this joint down and finding something else to waste time with, but my writing-guru Linda just about went upside my head when she heard that. Nothing really wrong at this end, but I just find myself staring at a blank screen longer and more often every time I sit down at the keyboard. I think my outlook has changed for the worse, too, as whenever I'm in a situation, good, bad, or indifferent, I find that I'm always asking myself How do I write about this? I don't like thinking that way, to be honest--I'd rather just enjoy the moment and not have to worry about the best way to share it with everyone else.

So I think some time off to recharge the batteries is in order. I'm not gonna go away, I'm just gonna take the rest of the summer off, starting on July 1st. I'll keep posting until then, but after that, I'll see y'all in September.

Mikey

The 'After' Picture

Ok, so I finally feel like I'm pretty much done with the whole unpacking chore that comes with moving in to a new place. I haven't had a lot of free time this weekend, and I'm still feeling under the weather a bit, but I managed to get a lot done.

Remember the 'before' picture from last Wednesday morning?



Well, that's what my living room *used* to look like. I cleaned it all up, got the new furnishings put together, hooked up the new TV, and now it looks like a nice place to live. Check it out:



Oh yes, it's still missing a few things, like a couch/sectional, a coffee table, and some sort of art to hang on the wall over the TV, but it's getting there. And as soon as I make my way down to the music store, I'll get a guitar stand and set the acoustic up between the tall bookcase and the TV stand. That's an empty spot that needs something, and I'd kinda like to hide the cable outlet if I could. I might also get an area rug of some sort--something that really ties the room together.

One one hand, I'd also kinda like to get rid of my old TV, but it's still in perfect condition. I may just store it for a couple of months, and once football season rolls around, I'll set it in the corner on top of the beer fridge, and have it showing the secondary game on the weekends.

I'm glad that chore is done, but I'll be even more happy once I get some real furniture in here. I remember back in the early 90's when Reverend Dave and I first moved to Phoenix, we didn't have *any* furniture. Nothing--no couch, no chairs, not even beds. We rented a two-bedroom place in the ghetto and sat on the floor for like three months until the money started coming in. (We were still dirt poor, though--we had to walk across the street to the Circle K to use the pay phone in the alley!). Eventually we bought a cheap living room set that went into the dumpster about four or five years later.

But not this time around--I'm gonna buy the best stuff I can afford, the heavier the better. It may take a few weeks, but I don't mind waiting. All I know is that once football season kicks off, this place will be fully furnished with comfortable seating for everyone who comes to visit. Oh, and once I finally get real furniture, I'll have all the ladies over for dinner one night, too--I can't wait to take pictures of Linda Lou eating guacamole for the first time...

Mikey

Potato In Search Of A Couch

All I can say is Wow! It's so pretty!

Yep, I finally got my TV hooked up and running properly, and man oh man, is it ever a thing of beauty. Having not watched HD television anywhere but the sports book for the past year, I'd forgotten just how much of an eye candy treat it was. And now, if I weren't so tired, I'd be up all night watching Ice Road Truckers re-runs or something equally brainless.

Anyhow, once I got home late last night (after winning a whopping $22 at poker), there was a pink sticky card on my door from the postman, telling me that there was a package waiting for me down at the rental office. HDMI cables! Woot!

Unfortunately, the office didn't open until ten o'clock in the morning, and I had to be at work at eleven, so all I could do was pick them up on my way to the casino.

My workday dragged--I'm still not feeling too well, and the day was just a straight grind for me. Normally I have a lot of fun at my job, but I'll be the first to admit that Saturday just wasn't any fun for me. Nothing I can put my finger on, but it was just one of those shifts that had to be endured rather than enjoyed. I was glad to finally pull the ripcord and head for home.

Of course, I'd gotten up early enough that morning to get the TV put together and ready to go on the stand, hoping that the set-up would take just a few minutes. It went pretty smoothly, and once I figured out the initial set-up instructions, I was treated to a beautiful broadcast of the Nascar Busch race from Wisconsin. (Seriously, the people at Sharp need to hire the Suburban Hausfrau as a technical writer. Whoever they've got doing it right now, well, they just plain suck). Well, at first glance it was a beautiful picture, but it didn't quite fit the screen. It was like I had a 44-inch picture on a 40-inch screen. And the TV zoom options just made it worse.

It took me about a half hour of cursing and throwing things before I figured out that there was an HD zoom button on my cable remote too, and it had been set to 'Stretch' when the guy came out to install all my goodies a couple of weeks ago. I set it back to normal, and Voila!--The picture was absolutely crisp, stunning, and perfect.

Normally, I don't give a rat's hindquarters about the Busch races, but it was total sensory overload, and once I got the settings right, I had to sit and watch the whole thing. Oh, and during the commercials, I switched it over to Discovery HD to watch Deadliest Catch reruns. Oh man--just amazing.

I was so tired that I could barely get up out of the chair, but I was also starving, having not really eaten anything since my granola-bar dinner the night before. So I ordered a pizza and some wings to be delivered from some joint over in Whitney Ranch who's menu ended up on my front door the other day (again, something I haven't done in years!). The wings--great, the pizza, not so much. I ate about five of the wings, and after two slices of pizza, I gave up and threw out the rest. It was gross. Manhattan Pizza, you're dead to me! (On the other hand, I found out last week that my new apartment is in the delivery area for Pie Town--that great Chicago-style joint on GV Parkway).

But that was pretty much my evening. I tried to do a few household chores, and started unloading the books and such, but I just didn't have it in me. I'm off for the next couple of days, so I'm guessing that if I get a good eight hours of sleep, I can spend my Sunday doing the final bit of getting the living room together. Once everything is in it's proper place, I'll post an 'after' picture to go with that 'before' one I took the other day.

And now that I've got that awesome new TV, I need to get crackin' and buy me a comfy place to sit. I'm gonna get tired of that camp chair really soon.

Mikey

Hey Girls, Gather 'Round

Finally--all the construction projects are Dee-Yoo-In DONE! I spent most of yesterday afternoon/evening working on the TV stand, and I have to tell you, for a hundred bucks, it's a helluva piece of furniture--very well built and will probably outlast me. And it looks great, too.

The new five-shelf bookcase, on the other hand, I'm less than enamored with. First of all--whoever decided to call the color 'espresso' must use a whole lot less creamer in their after-dinner jolt than I do, because if I were to come up with a name for the color, I'd go with something more along the lines of 'Valdez Sludge' or 'Tar Baby'. The damn thing's almost pitch black, straight out of the 80's. I feel like I need to go get me a framed Scarface movie poster to complete the look.

Actually, it's not that bad, but it certainly doesn't match my pecan-finish TV stand or faux-oak bookcases. Also, as rugged and well-built as that TV stand is, that bookcase is basically a hunk of shiat--all fiberboard with fake veneer, and no metal to be found anywhere except for the eight pegs holding the two adjustable shelves. All the rest of the 'hardware' is plastic. Oh well, I guess you get what you pay for, and I only paid thirty bucks for it. But it's not moving anytime soon, and it'll be weighed down with books, so it just has to sit there and look not-exactly pretty.

But the tool kit got a workout these past few days, and I'm feeling like quite the handyman. I hung up a few more pictures, adjusted the cabinet doors in my kitchen, tightened up the mini-blinds on a couple of windows, and now I'm done. The only thing left to do is get the new TV out of the box and hooked up. Unfortunately, I still don't have my HDMI cables, but I checked the package tracker on Amazon this morning, and it said that they arrived at the Henderson post office around 5:00 o'clock this morning. I'm hoping they get here this afternoon, but at the latest tomorrow. By Sunday night, I shall be enjoying full-on High-Definition goodness from the comforts of my... camp chair.

Oh well. I'll get a couch soon enough.

Anyhow, now that the construction is finished, I need to take some pictures. But I think I'll wait until I get the books and such unloaded and put in their proper places. I've also got to do something with the pile of cardboard and styrofoam on the dining room floor--it's a huge mess, and one match will send this place up in a bonfire that would make an Aggie fan proud.

But that's all for now. T-Rev just called and we're gonna hit the brewpub at Monte Carlo for lunch, then maybe smoke a cigar or two. And later this evening, I'm gonna hook up with Cool Pacific, and I know some epic buffoonery will ensue.

Mikey

Nothing New To Report

Nothing new happening here at Casa de Mikey. Still working on my construction projects, still fighting a cold. T-Rev and Cool Pacific both come to town this weekend, so there may be some buffoonery on tap. Oh, and thankfully I picked up a shift on Saturday, so I won't feel like I'm poor anymore (no more Benjamins in the coffee can).

I'm also happy to report that even though I used the Zicam a few times, my sense of smell is intact. I mean, without a sense of smell, how's a bachelor supposed to do laundry? Just wash everything?

Also, I looked up my package tracking on Amazon this morning, and my cables left Walnut California yesterday, so I'm hoping to be enjoying full-on HD goodness by Sunday.

Other than that, there's nothing new under the sun.

Mikey

Properly Motivated

Here it is, just past eleven in the morning, and I've been up for a couple of hours and gotten a lot done already. Yes, I'm still sick and kinda feel like shiat when I sit down and think about it, but Alka-Seltzer Plus and Zicam work wonders on a head cold. So does sunshine and fresh air, I'm finding out...

Anyhow, just so you know what I'm up against, here is a picture of my living room at this very moment: (clickie to embiggen)



Yes, at least there is a picture on the wall, but lets take a closer look--from left to right. First of all, a couple of milk crates. The bottom one is full of books, the top one is full of toiletries. I have no idea why I haven't moved it to the bathroom yet. Then there is one of my small 3-shelf bookcases, with nothing on it but my humidor and Jack Youngblood-autographed mini Rams helmet (the first thing I unpacked after the booze). Then there is my old 27-inch Sharp TV that I bought ten years ago, sitting on the floor, angled upwards by two Anthony Bourdain paperbacks (notice the digital cable box sitting atop it, too). Lying flat in the corner is my TV stand that I bought back in November, and sitting next to it is my tool kit and yesterday's 5-shelf bookcase purchase. Beyond that, we have my Coleman camp chair and cooler (which I use as a coffee table--in fact I spilled some real live coffee on it two days ago!), and rounding out the unfinished dorm look is a stack of Rubbermaid storage totes, full of books, CDs, and DVDs. What you don't see is more totes against the wall on the right, filled with the same kind of stuff.

I've decided that I need at least one more, if not two, pieces of framed art for the living room, a big clock for the dining room wall, and oh yeah, some furniture. Since I had the day off, I figured I needed to get cracking and start making this place feel more like home. The kitchen is pretty much done, as is the bedroom, but the living room still looks and feels like a storage unit.

So I got up this morning, got dressed, and raided my coffee-can stash of Benjamins. I took a thousand bucks with me and headed off to shop. I hadn't made up my mind yet, although I knew I was either going to buy my new sectional or a new TV.

But here's the thing--as much as I want that sectional I saw at Ashley Furniture last week, it's a regular item and will always be there. But that Sharp Aquos 40" LCD with the full 1080p HD for $749 at Costco was a special one-time offer. I *know* that ain't gonna last. Hell, even Amazon, which usually has the best prices, couldn't compete. (As I write this, today's price for the exact same TV at Amazon is $879).

So the first thing I did was drive over to Costco to see if they had any left. I walked in--gone. Damn. Even the big end-cap display was gone. Talk about a missed opportunity--I really wanted that TV. A quick look around showed that they had a few 42-inchers for about a thousand bucks, but suddenly that didn't seem like such a deal. But as I turned the corner from the main big-screen aisle, I saw where they had another aisle of smaller TVs. At the far end, guess what I saw--Yep, a Sharp Aquos 40-incher! And below the display model, there were still four boxes on the shelf.

Woot!

Now, before I got too excited, I figured that they'd taken it off sale and jacked the price up again, but when I got closer, I saw that the deal got even better. Not only was it still regularly priced at $749, but they had a special this week offering an instant manufacturer's rebate of $50! $699 plus tax, baby!!!

When I saw that, the other shoppers at Costco got an extra bonus--they got to see a fat white guy doing his best Jesse Owens impersonation as I ran back out front to get a flatbed cart.

SOLD!

No way in a hundred years am I gonna beat that deal, so I grabbed it. And here it is, sitting on my dining room table:


After that, I wandered all over the place looking for HDMI cables, but apparently they don't sell those at Costco. If they do, I never found them. But while I was there, I did a little more shopping, and saw that the exact same sectional that I wanted to buy from Ashley for $899 (plus tax and delivery) was for sale there at Costco (with an ottoman, too), for only $729. Unbelievable. I guess I'll be going back in a couple of weeks and getting that, too!

Of course, you can't walk out of Costco and only buy one thing, even if that one thing costs seven hundred bucks. I ended getting a twin-pack of new queen sized pillows for my bed, and at the last minute I did a hat-tip to my late brother-in-law David and grabbed a huge plastic container of Kirkland cashews. When I lived in Nashville, I spent a lot of weekends hanging out with Cyndi and David, and we'd usually end up doing some shopping on Saturday mornings before the college football games got started. And he always bought a big jar of cashews to nibble on, and it seemed like whenever I was at their house, they always had cashews on hand. So bought some and got to relive a nice memory for a few minutes while standing in line at the checkout stand.

Of course, pushing that flatbed around the warehouse, three or four different people stopped me and asked me how much the TV cost, and when I gave them the whole story, every one of them was like Wow, that's an amazing deal. Somehow I doubt there will be any left by the time the store closes tonight.

Since I couldn't find any HDMI cables, I ended up ordering some from Amazon after all--I got three of them for twenty-one cents apiece, but with shipping and handling, it upped the price to not-quite ten bucks. A great deal if you ask me--last night after work, I stopped by the Walmart SuperCenter to buy cold medicine and a few groceries, and I swung by their electronics section to see about picking up a couple of cables just in case. The cheapest price they offered was $32 f*cking dollars, a complete ripoff if I've ever seen one, but that just goes to show, people are willing to pay it, thinking that they're getting a deal over the $100+ cables at Best Buy.

Anyhow, I saved a few bucks, but I won't be enjoying the full-on High Definition experience for a few days yet. Gotta wait for the cables to get shipped.

But at least now I'm properly motivated to get all the furniture put together and all of my books unloaded and organized. And I'm hoping for the phone to ring a couple of times this weekend so I can pick up another shift or two--I want to go back to Costco and pick up that sectional as soon as possible--the camp chair needs to go back out to the patio. Oh, and I'll probably pick up some ribeyes this time--David used to buy those, too.

Mikey

Green Shirt Wednesday

Here it is, Hump Day, and I don't have a green shirt.

Back in the old days when I was working at Schwab, my "team" consisted of myself and six other brokers, plus our boss. We had our own designated team area, but it was basically a cube farm like every other office across the country.

Anyhow, one Wednesday, just by coincidence, we all showed up to work wearing green shirts. So that kicked off a tradition of Green Shirt Wednesday that went on for about a year before the whole company went to hell in the last recession.

I have no idea what they're wearing today. My old team is long gone, and out of the eight of us, I doubt that there are even three left.

Now that I work in a casino, I'm stuck wearing an ugly brown polyester shirt every day. It's not much fun at all. But my workday is already over and I've got the rest of my Humpday to myself.

Today is construction day. My TV cabinet is still in pieces in the corner of the living room, only because I haven't been home much in the past four or five days. Also, while I was over on the 'psycho side' of Henderson yesterday, I stopped in that new Target over on Lake Mead parkway and found a five-shelf bookcase with a pecan finish that kinda-sorta matches the finish on the TV stand. So I'm gonna get both of them put together today and hopefully get all of my books out of the totes, and then get the totes out of the living room.

And once I get some furniture in there, it'll look like a real apartment instead of a college dorm.

Anyhow, it'll be nice to have some free time again today--like I said, I was crazy-busy all weekend. Yesterday would've been a good day to chill out, but I had to go make an appearance at the Henderson Justice Court because of my encounter with the motorcycle cop.

My citation said to show up at 1:00 pm, which I did, and by 1:03 I had appeared before the judge and made arrangements to pay my debt to society. The wheels of justice turn a bit faster in Henderson than they do in Vegas--when I got a ticket there, that mess took months to resolve. Now, I'm free to take online traffic school and I have 30 days to pay my fine. No points on the license, no return trip to court needed.

Of course, I learned a few things--going to court is way worse than trying to get on a commercial flight. You still gotta lose the shoes and get randomly probed, but I don't have to take off the belt at the airport. Oh, and the judge doesn't allow people to wear shorts in his courtroom, either, and it says so on a big sign next to the door. It would be nice if it said that somewhere on the ticket the cop gave me. I'm just sayin'.

But they let me slide, since I was a one-time offender. Sorry, but it's June in southern Nevada, and I'm attending at their convenience, not mine, so cargo shorts and sandals was my outfit of choice. Apparently, that is frowned upon. But they didn't make a big deal about it, and like I said, I was in and out of there in less than five minutes, so my advice to you, dear readers, is that if you're gonna do something out here that lands you in court, do it in Henderson, not in Vegas proper. The courthouse is nicer, more easy going, not crowded like the DMV, and the parking is free. And make sure to wear long pants when they haul you in front of the judge, too.

Anyhow, after finishing off my own personal episode of Law & Order, I stopped at Target to do a little shopping--again, I didn't find much that I needed, except that bookcase, but once I got home I pretty much slept all afternoon and into the evening. I'm fighting a mild head cold, but it's just bothersome enough to keep me from sleeping well and it's sapping my energy, too. Not only that, but it's taken away my motivation. So aside from working a lot and running around with my friends all weekend, a mild illness has conspired with my inherent laziness to keep me from writing any updates, along with not answering any email for about a week. Sorry 'bout that--I'll get around to it later today.

But that's the news. I wasn't missing in action or in jail or on a bender or anything like that. I was just kinda busy and not interested in sitting at the keyboard for any length of time. But it was nice to know that I was missed.

Mikey

Still Alive. Just Busy

Y'all all can untwist your panties--I'm still here. I've just been busier than hell the past couple of days, and now I'm down with a head cold.

I'll have more sometime on Wednesday afternoon.

Mikey

Gettin' Lucky In Hendertucky!

How lucky can one guy be? I kissed her and she kissed me...

I have to admit, the past 18 hours or so have been pretty good to me. Let's see... How did it start?

Oh yeah. I was kickin' around the house, hanging pictures on the wall, cleaning the kitchen, stuff like that, when my phone started ringing. A couple of my gals desired my company last night, so we made plans to meet up in the poker room a couple hours later. I finished off a few of my projects, took a shower, made myself pretty, and rolled down to the casino around 8:30 or so.

The poker room was pretty damn busy--that Bad Beat jackpot is down to four-of-a-kind Fours getting beat, so that creates a lot of action. Even though my gal Sheena was already in a game, I couldn't get a seat at her table. I had to wait for them to start a new game. About a half hour later, the waiting list had grown large enough to open up another table, so I finally got a seat. It wasn't the best table in the world--lots of tight players just sitting there grinding away, slow playing, hoping that they wouldn't have to actually spend any money while they waited for the Bad Beat to hit.

So I asked for a table change, and was able to move to a better game. Also, I was able to sit next to one of my other gals, Laura, who's a cocktail waitress down at the double Circus. We had lots of fun, but I just couldn't get a hand to stand up. Once my initial hundred-dollar buy in was ground down to about forty bucks, I bought another twenty, just in case I caught a big hand. Still, nothing held up for me--either that, or I'd just completely whiff on the flop. While sitting there, at least I was having a good time. My gal Hailey showed up a little while later and got a seat at my table, too, so even though I wasn't catching *any* cards, I was having a great time laughing it up with a few of my favorite gals.

Since we couldn't win any hands, we decided to order some free grub for dinner--I'd had a plate of leftover spaghetti earlier that morning, but almost twelve hours had passed by then. So we called up room service and had them deliver a chicken quesadilla and dozen hot wings. That created the domino effect once it was delivered, because the food smelled so good that everyone else at the table suddenly had the munchies. For awhile there, our game was more of a dinner table than a poker table.

Even though I was stuck somewhere north of fifty bucks for most of the evening, eventually I caught a couple of Aces in the pocket. It was a Kill Pot at the time, so I made it nine bucks to go. I got six callers!

Shiat.

I *knew* there was no way I was gonna survive that onslaught, but I bet out anyways, thinking I might chase some people off. If not, I might as well go down in flames. I thought I was in trouble when the flop came out all raggedy and I still got raised, thinking somebody had trips. I was short-stacked anyways, so I went ahead and got all my chips in the pot.

Miraculously, even after all the betting and raising going on with four players at the showdown, my Aces held up, and I raked a HUGE pot, taking me from the felt to just above even for the night! Gotta love that!

A few hands later, my gal Sheena and I got involved in a pot--I had Ace-Nine, and the flop came out Nine-Four-Nine. She bet, I raised, she re-raised, I called. Turn was a rag, I bet, she raised all-in, I called. The river brought the case Nine, giving me four of a kind, but she had pocket Fours, having my ass beat with a full-boat right up until I caught the miracle case Nine on the river.

Even though I knocked her out, there were no hard feelings--she still gave me a goodnight kiss before heading home. That brought a laugh when one of the other guys at the table spoke up and said Damn Mikey, how the hell did you pull that off? Not only do you knock out the cutest gal in the room with an awful suckout, but then she kisses you afterwards??? You've got some lucky mojo going tonight, my friend!

Heh. Maybe I did. But I'll take it!

As the night wore on, players started dropping off. I wanted to go home, knowing that I had to work at 11:00 am this morning. But I just couldn't get over the break-even hump. Not only that, I was getting pretty damn bored--there was one guy at the table who was exasperatingly slow--every time it was his turn, he didn't know how much to bet, he took forever to make up his mind, he was just a pain in the ass. Even the dealer was getting pissed off at him. Not only that, he was one of these moronic twenty-somethings that never shuts up about every hand, and he wasn't coordinated enough to talk and play at the same time, so it was truly a grind. Luckily, I had my iPod and just tuned him out and ignored him, even though he tried to engage me in conversation a few times.

It got so bad that I could see the dealer getting visibly frustrated, and all of the other players started grumbling under their breath. So one time while we were enduring the human rain delay, I finally spoke up and said Dude--just ONE time, could you please be ready to act when it's your turn? Just once???

I didn't hear his reply--I put my earphones back in and turned up my music, staring straight through him nonresponsively as he started talking in my direction.

Luckily, I got a hand a few minutes later and snapped him off. I had some kind of raggedly and low suited cards--I think it might've been the 7-3 of hearts. It was his big blind, so I raised it, just to irritate him. I think there were a couple of callers, and he re-raised. Of course I called, like a donkey, but I was ready to go by then--it was late, I was just about even, and I'd had just about enough of him.

But the flop came out King-Six-Deuce, all hearts, giving me the flush. He bet out, I raised, everyone else dropped out. He re-raised and I called, hoping that I didn't just donkey off a bunch of chips to a bigger flush. The turn was a rag, but he checked. By the look on his face, I didn't really fear a check-raise, so I bet. He snap called. The river was another rag, and he checked again. At that point, I knew my flush was good. I bet, and he *almost* folded a couple of times, but then at the last minute decided to raise. I knew beyond a doubt that I was good, so I raised him. He sat there thinking about it for what seemed like forever, and finally called.

I turned over the Flush, and it took him a second, but he showed King-Six of diamonds, having flopped two-pair. Sorry, chump.

I saw a bunch of grins on the faces of the rest of the players, because that beatdown left him extremely short-stacked--he had one more hand in him at the most. On the other hand, I took enough of his money that I was actually up $80 for the night, so I immediately racked up and said goodnight. I wasn't gonna give the guy one chance to win his money back.

Heh. That last hand felt really good. In the poker world, there aren't many things more enjoyable than beating the snot out of the most annoying person at the table.

I came home, exhausted, and collapsed into bed, setting my alarm for 9:30 in the morning.

Damn I hate working day shift.

Funny thing was, I woke up about a half hour before the alarm went off. So I made a pot of coffee, and kicked off my day with some English muffins and websurfing.

When I got to work at 11:00, it was another one of those overcrowded mornings--there was one game going, five names on the waiting list, but six dealers altogether. The floorman had to send somebody home. I immediately volunteered because 1) I was still kinda tired and dayshift is a grind, and 2) I knew that if I didn't work in the morning, there was a chance I could get called in later tonight and make some real money--that Bad Beat is gonna bring in the crowds.

So I didn't even clock in--I took off the work shirt, but sat down at the second table and bought a rack of chips. I figured, well, since I'm here, I might as well play a little bit, just in case...

The morning game is quite a bit tighter than the night games are, but you gotta be careful on how loose you can play. Besides, there was one 'loose cannon' in the game already--raising with any face card when he was in late position.

It was an enjoyable game though--I had a lot of fun dealing to a bunch of the old guys I hardly ever see anymore, and even though it's kinda tight, it's still a nice social way to spend a few hours. And then, Deja Vu struck.

There it was, another kill pot, and I had the button. I looked down to see pocket Aces. There were a bunch of limpers, and of course I raised it to $9 to go. I got six callers, again.

Shiat.

Before the flop came out, I announced, Well, I know I'm beat--I can't hold off six of ya! But everyone checked to me, and I bet $6. That eliminated half the field, and I thought my chances started to improve. The turn and river were all rags, and even though I bet another $24 into the pot, I got a couple of callers to go with me. I showed the Aces, and they both mucked their hands, so I dragged another nice pot, amazed that Aces held up both times against so many callers. I don't know if that was luck, or it was just the law of averages evening out against all those times I've been cracked, but I'll certainly take it! Talk about a huge sigh of relief when that hand was over...

A few hands later, I dragged another monster pot when I held the stone-cold nuts of a full-house and a guy re-raised me on the river. I loved that. He had three nines with an Ace kicker, but I had nine-five suited from the blinds and flopped three nines (as did he), but then I made my boat on the turn. I let him build the pot for me, but there were no straights or flushes out there, so he had to figure his top set was good, so I loved loved loved the lucky turn card and his re-raise on the river.

Once I got my chips all stacked up, I saw that I was up $120 for the session--and I'd only been there for two hours. Sure beats the hell out of working. Had I stayed, I would've gotten sent home by 3:00 anyways, so luckily I made more money by *not* working. I tipped the dealer five bucks, and the same to the floorman, took my winnings, and headed for the door.

I stopped at Target on the way home, looking for kitchen gadgets or a decent five-shelf bookcase, but finding nothing I needed but a box of Brita water filters, I got out of there for less than twenty bucks.

My plan this afternoon is to chill out for awhile, get some rest, and wait for the phone to ring. I'm *sure* my gal Sheena will call--she does every day. And I'll go and meet her for an evening of poker and buffoonery. But I'll wear a pair of Dockers and nice shirt this time, and I won't be drinking, either. And I've got a spare work shirt in my truck. I got a feeling that it's gonna be busy tonight, and if I can pick up another late swing shift, I'll definitely take it.

Mikey

Tech Support Question

Ok, I've been doing my research regarding my upcoming purchases, and I have a question regarding HDMI cables. Apparently, with new components, HDMI cables are the cat's ass, making the jumble of red-yellow-white RCA cables obsolete, and also doing away with the need for fiber optic digital audio cables, S-video, and all that other nonsense that's been driving me nuts every time I try to hook up my home theatre system.

Anyhow, very soon (well, at least sometime before football season kicks off), I will be purchasing a new HDTV and also a new home theater system, too. My old TV still works like it's brand-spankin' new, but it's almost ten years old, and while it was nice back in 1999, well, it's pretty also on the trailing edge of technology--HD was just a glimmer on the horizon when I brought this baby home from Best Buy. And my Pioneer system, well, even though I got it on sale and got free financing and all that, I've never *really* liked it that much. First of all, it's silver, and I prefer black, second of all, it's bulky and old-school looking, third of all, it's very tempermental with DVDs--sometimes they just get hung up and don't play correctly (the most egrarious infraction is that every time I watch Ocean's Eleven, it freezes up on the scene where Matt Damon gets out of the elevator after they steal the pinch). It's not the DVD--it's the player, and no amount of cleaning the optic reader has helped. And fourth, my surround system/receiver/DVD player does not have HDMI outputs. So it's going to the pawn shop.

(In the meantime, I spent $40 on a Phillips progressive-scan DVD player at Walmart several months ago, and it works like a champ!)

So here's my question--once I get my new HDTV and surround sound home theatre system, my understanding is that to hook it all up and get awesome picture and sound is that I'll only need to use two (or is it three?) HDMI cables. Is this true?

From CNET:

HDMI is typically used to connect a high-definition device--such as an HD DVR--to an HDTV. To make the connection, you simply put one end of the cable into the HDTV's HDMI input slot and the other end into the device's HDMI output slot. And that's it--just one cable and you're all set for the high-definition experience. If you have an AV receiver, just put it in the middle of the signal chain. The output of the AV receiver goes to the HDTV and you connect your high-definition device(s) to the AV receiver's input.

Anyone have any experience with this stuff?

Mikey

Two Girls, One Crockpot

Ok, so remember how I was dreading having to work day shift for the rest of the week? Well, sometimes life throws a hanging curveball, and you get lucky.

For me, it was last night--work called, looking for somebody to come in and deal for a few hours. Of course, I reminded them that I was scheduled for 11:00 in the morning. But the counter-offer was for me to come in at 9:30 on Tuesday night, and they'd give my Wednesday day shift to somebody else. It took me about half a second to say SOLD! I'd *much* rather work the late swing/graveyard shift than any day shift.

And it was a lucrative one--I pushed six tables in a row before getting a break, which was great, and the room pretty much died after I was there for four hours. But in that four hours I made more than I would've working eight on day shift. Woot!

Oh, and on the other hand, I got my envelope from that 12-hour tournament I dealt the other day, too. For doing 13 downs, I made whopping $37 in tips. Yep, that works out to less than three bucks a down. Just for perspective's sake, this past shift I just came home from--I pocketed over $30 per half-hour down. Now you understand why all the dealers bitch about getting stuck working that tournament--most people's free time is more valuable than that.

Anyhow, lemme tell you about Tuesday at the homestead. First of all, I need to come up with a nickname for this apartment. There was the 'Stripper House' back when I first moved here, and we can't forget 'Reuben's House', either. And Rob and I lived in the 'Man Cave' for a year over on GV Parkway--and my old house I just moved out of, I'll just refer to it as the 'Dog House'... This place, nothing springs to mind quite yet... So I'm open for suggestions.

But I was kickin' around here on Tuesday morning, hungry, so I made a damn fine breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee, but I cooked up a whole mess of extra bacon so that I could 1) get more drippings to cook with, and 2) have some real bacon bits for my spinach salad I intended to make later that evening. Breakfast was great, of course, and I left the latest batch of drippings in the pan for a bit--that cast iron is a bitch to handle when it's hot. It's heavy as hell, unwieldy, and well, flat out dangerous to pick up. So I chose to let it cool on the stove while I ate and then puttered around for a bit.

Eventually, I found my way back to the kitchen to clean up the breakfast mess and get my spaghetti sauce going. The first thing I did was heat up the cast iron skillet so the bacon drippings would pour a little faster than cold molasses, and while that was going, I diced up a large onion and a large green pepper. About halfway through the onion, I realized that something was missing--you can't cook Italian food without listening to Dean Martin, so I dug out a two-disc set of his greatest hits, turned it up, and got down to business. I think everyone should listen to Dino when cooking pasta and such. It makes the Italian food taste better, I'm convinced.

So once the veggies were diced up, I poured off the bacon drippings from the cast iron skillet, but didn't wash it--I gave it a splash of rather expensive olive oil, and set to sauteeing my onions and peppers. That was a brilliant move on my part, I've got to admit. Those little bits of bacon did wonders... Once they got a little 'sweaty', I added a healthy dose of minced garlic to the mix. But you can't leave that in there very long on the heat--nothings f*cks up recipe like scorched garlic. But after a few minutes, I deglazed the pan with about a third of a cup of good Merlot. Oh man, did that ever smell tasty!

I let that simmer down, and while that was going on, I sliced up about a half a pound of baby Portobello mushrooms. In the meantime, I used a couple of jars of Prego as a base. Normally I'd just use regular tomato sauce and doctor it up, but whenever I see Prego or Hunt's or any of the other canned or jarred red sauces on sale, I grab them up and then add a few things of my own.

So I dumped two jars of Prego into the crock pot, and instead of rinsing out the jars with a quarter cup of water to get all the sauce out, I used a couple of splashes of that same Merlot. I screwed the lids back on, gave it a shake, and then poured out the remainder of the sauce into the crockpot. I also added a generous squirt of that hot Thai 'Sriracha' sauce to give it some zing, along with a few pinches of stuff like dried basil and oregano. The sliced mushrooms went in after that, followed by the onion, pepper, and garlic mixture from the stove.

Once the veggies went into the crockpot, I used the same skillet to brown a half pound of sweet Italian sausage and a pound of seasoned ground beef. Once the meat was cooked through, I drained it and spooned it into the crockpot. I gave the whole thing a good stir, set the temp on low, put the lid on, and left it for several hours.

I had a bunch of errands to run, so I got dressed and headed out while the sauce cooked. The first thing I did was go over to Costco and fill up the tank for $2.44 per gallon (it's about $2.63 everywhere else). Once that chore was done, I decided to go over to Ashley Furniture and have a look around. I'm sorry--I just can't have company until I get some living room furniture, so I have to start shopping.

Of course, I was accosted by a vulture salesperson as soon as I set foot in the door, but she was a few notches less intense than the clown I had following me around the other day at a different store. Actually, she was quite helpful, and let me wander around for quite awhile without trying to sell me anything. I found two different sectionals that I really liked, but one seemed like it might be a little too much--not as far as price goes, but size. I think it was a bit too big for my needs. And then when I sat in it, it felt like it was too low to the floor. So, I decided on the second one I looked at--it was more comfortable and just a touch smaller, but then, I'm still about two weeks away from being able to cough up a thousand bucks for furniture.

But it's nice, and I've decided that the cocoa-colored microfiber sectional with the chaise lounge is what I'm gonna get. If I have a couple more nights at work like I just had, though, I'll be lounging on it in no time.

I actually spent a good chunk of my afternoon at the furniture store, but then I had to go back over to the Wallyworld SuperCenter and spend some more cash. I had a few groceries to buy, and I looked at a five-shelf bookshelf, but it was a hundred bucks--a little too steep, I thought. And as much as I know I'm gonna need a vacuum cleaner pretty soon, now that I've got the furniture within reach, I didn't want to spend the money on that, either.

But I did, however, spend a few bucks on a new bamboo cutting board. My white plastic one that I've had for years is no longer any good. While sitting in a storage tote out in the hot-ass garage for the last year, it warped, badly. Seriously, I might as well have been using a giant tortoise shell from the Galapagos Islands as a cutting board when I did my veggies--it would've been flatter.

By the time I got home after a few hours away, the spaghetti sauce had time to cook together and get all kinds of tasty--when I opened the front door, I couldn't believe how good it smelled here in the apartment. Man, it made me hungry right then.

I resisted the urge for almost two hours, but by the time Deadliest Catch came on, I had to get busy. So I filled up my new stockpot with water, a splash of olive oil, and a couple of pinches of salt, and set it to boiling. I had so much sauce going (a full crockpot), that I had to cook the whole two pound package of pasta. No problemo--my stockpot can handle it. Just about the time I pulled it off the heat, I cut off a couple of inches of French bread from a fresh loaf, sliced it open, buttered it, sprinkled on some garlic salt, and the covered it with some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Into the toaster oven it went, while I drained the noodles and then combined them with the sauce (I'm not one of those people who keeps the sauce and noodles separated--even Alton Brown says to mix them together, so that the sauce will stick to the noodles better).

When the toaster oven went 'Ding!', I got a nice big scoop of spaghetti and had two amazingly good pieces of garlic bread on the side (it was so good that I thought it better than the garlic bread at Triple 7 brewpub, which everyone *knows* is top-notch!). That spaghetti smelled so good that I couldn't wait to dig in, and oh hell yeah, I have to admit, I really outdid myself this time. It was probably the best batch I've ever made, due in no small part to the merlot and the bacon pan sautee. Oh, and using good Parmesan on top helps too.

In fact, it was so damn good, and I had so much anticipation going when I dove into it, that I totally spaced on making the spinach salad! Damn--I love me some spinach salad, but you know what--it didn't matter. Just the spaghetti and garlic bread was a damn fine meal all by itself.

As much as I wanted to, I didn't go back for seconds--it's quite a hearty meal, and I know it's gonna taste even better today. Spaghetti, like stew, always tastes better on the second day.

After dinner, I just sat there rubbing my belly and patting myself on the back for a job well done, when my gal Andrea called! I hadn't heard from her since I was in Phoenix, but I wanted to know where she finally decided to move to now that she's realized that this part of town is waaaaay more cool than Summerlin.

You wanna hear something funny--she's moving in about four houses down from Kimmy. Seriously, when I asked her where her new place was, she gave me the general location, and I said Hey, that's right by Kimmy's house--she lives on 'blankety-blank' street! Then Andrea was like Holy shit! That's the same street my house is on! Amazing. Now the two hottest brunettes in Silverado Ranch not only live on the same street, but they have drunken adventures with Mikey in common, too. If I play my cards right, I'm gonna go over there and see if I can't talk them into stripping down to the lingerie and having a tickle fight... That would pretty much be the highlight of my entire Vegas experience, I think.

That's about as deep in the conversation as we got when I was rudely interrupted by the poker room calling and shocking me back into reality. The rest, they say, is history. And you just read about it.

Mikey

A Bunch Of Stuff I Didn't Do

I don't know why I always make grandiose plans for Mondays--I never follow through. My to-do list for yesterday was long and distinguished, and twenty-four hours later, it still is.

Oh, I did a few things, but I never left the house. I even started to assemble the TV stand, but one time through the directions and the parts inventory was enough to demotivate me for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, I had that gnawing in the back of my mind telling me that I needed to sleep, since I'd been up since around 2:00 in the morning, so finally around 6:00 pm I gave up, took a shower, and went to bed.

My alarm went off at ten minutes after midnight, and five minutes later, my phone was ringing. It was the poker room, so I knew it wasn't good news. If it rings earlier, I know I'm getting called in, but if it rings 45 minutes before my shift starts, I know that the room is dead. And that was the case last night. The floorman called, saying he only had a three-handed no-limit game going, and one dude just went all-in, and one of the other players was one of our dealers. So, there was no chance that the game would hold together all night, much less for another 45 minutes, so I was free to go back to bed.

That really sucks--there are 10,000 poker players in town this month, and it just *kills* the action in our room. All of the locals are down on the Strip fleecing the tourists. Hey, I did the same thing last summer, cashing in a couple of sit-n-go's down at the Mirage, and pocketing a few bills down at the MGM during the Series. Seriously--the room I play in is pretty tough--it's great training, because whenever I motivate myself down to the Strip to play, I always find myself thinking It shouldn't be this easy...

So yeah, I lost both of my usually lucrative graveyard shifts this week, and starting tomorrow, I've got a string of day shifts for the rest of the week. Not fun at all. I really *do* prefer the graveyard shift. But I got plenty of sleep, so that leaves me with a free day to hit that to-do list again.

Oh yeah, I'll be doing housework, and shopping, and I'll finally get the TV stand put together (right now it's in pieces in the corner of my living room). I've already organized the storage closet this morning and found all of my coffee cups and pint glasses (MMV BITCHES!), so my cupboards are slowly filling up and looking like a normal person lives here. And since I made more room in the storage closet, a bunch of the stuff that was in the living room is now gone, further highlighting the big empty space.

Oh, and because I never got any sleep yesterday, I postponed the whole spaghetti incident. I didn't want to make a big dinner and then have to go right to bed, so as soon as I clean up the kitchen from this morning's breakfast, I'll start cooking the sauce. There may be pictures involved.

Mikey

Far Too Long

I think I'm living back in the real world again. Don't get me wrong--living in Green Valley Ranch was nice, but I think I like this area much more. It's just as quiet, but it's a little older, so the trees actually provide some shade. The only shade at my old house came from the streetlight out in front, and well, I'm a little wider than that particular shadow.

But I realized today, as I opened my front door and had a couple of delivery menus hanging on the handle, that I have not had Chinese food or a pizza delivered in over two years! Seriously--how many of you can say that? (Besides Hoya, who lives out in the sticks). That's pretty amazing when you think about it. Now, I tried to get Metro Pizza to deliver a couple of times, because they say that they do, but every time I called them, they always said it would be at least two hours. So yeah, in theory, they offer a delivery service, but in practice, not so much. And my old house was about a mile away from the Metro on Horizon Ridge, but I could never get them to bring me a pizza.

Anyhow, the two year streak is probably gonna come to an end next weekend, just because a couple of pretty good one-off local joints have been hanging stuff on my door (sadly, Grimaldi's doesn't deliver, and my new place is much further away, anyways). I *know* I'm gonna take advantage once football season rolls around (BTW, training camp starts next month!).

But I while I was sitting here amazed at the fact that I haven't had a pizza delivered in over two years, another oddball thought crept into my head. I've been working in the same casino for over four years now, and I still have never seen the swimming pool. I don't even know how to get to it. Seriously--I just never wander over to that end of the property. Weird, huh?

Mikey

Grease Is The Word

My kingdom for a sandblaster!

Ok, I'm seeing the downside of having all of my kitchen gear stored for a year. First of all, my heirloom-quality cast-iron ebelskiver pan that I dug out of the bottom of a storage tote this weekend is was totally covered in rust. That really sucked.

Apparently, I forgot to season it before I stowed it, and well, it may as well have been sitting out in the backyard for the whole year. I swear it looked like something that came off of an old tugboat that had been sitting in dry dock for far too long. So I spent my morning with a copper scrub brush going to town on it. It wasn't easy, or enjoyable, but I finally got it cleaned up after far too many minutes of scrubbin'.

Once that little chore was finished, I washed it and dried it, then got it nice and hot on the stove, and and finished by covering it in a healing layer of Wesson oil. While I was at it, I also seasoned my new T-Fal stockpot, as per the enclosed directions, but that took maybe a minute--just heat it up for a few seconds, then put a teaspoon of oil inside, and wipe it down. Done!

Luckily, my other cast-iron pans had seen some action in the past few months, so they didn't need too much attention. But I used the big deep heavy skillet to cook up a few strips of bacon this morning, and coupled with a pot of hazelnut coffee, my new apartment no longer smells like fresh paint and carpet cleaner. It smells like home.

Another benefit of delving back into the tasty and mysterious world of bacon is that I now have a small container of drippings on hand, which anybody's grandma on the right side of the Mason-Dixon line will tell you is an essential kitchen staple, every bit as important as butter, flour, eggs, or hot sauce. I see a batch of sausage gravy in my near future...

Now that the cooking is done for a few hours and another batch of laundry is going, I'm gonna do a few odds and ends before heading out to fill the gas tank, get the truck washed, and pick up the Parmesan cheese that I forgot this morning. At some point, however, I've got to get some sleep. I'm back on the graveyard shift tonight.

Mikey

Bacon-ticipation

Good morning and Happy Monday to all you cube-dwellers out there who chose to be here instead of working. That's right--Stick it to The Man!

I hope everyone had a good weekend. Mine was long--I did about 24 hours straight on Saturday, slept all day Sunday, went out on Sunday night, and now I'm home, thinking about breakfast. And bacon, eggs, grits, toast, and coffee is sounding pretty damn good right now.

While I got quite a bit of housework done yesterday afternoon, those damn crappy tortillas did a number on me--I felt kinda sick after eating them. You've been warned--do not eat the flavored Mission tortillas. They are evil and taste like shiat. So once I cleaned up the kitchen and watched some SportsCenter, I made a couple of calls and then laid down for a bit. Unsurprisingly, I fell asleep for a couple of hours, waking up around midnight.

Fully rested, with no place to be and an extra hundred dollars in my pocket, I called my buddy who was working the floor last night in the poker room. He said there was a juicy game going on, full of people who I regularly pound on. So I told him I'd be down in about 15 minutes.

The game was a good one, but I lost $39 on my first hand when I flopped a straight, but one of my opponents went runner-runner and picked me off with a higher straight. Not a good start. Also, there was one other guy at the table who I've never seen in the poker room before, but I remember him from my days in the pit way back when. Luckily, I hardly ever had to deal to him because I was always dealing Pai Gow in Chinatown, but he had a distasteful reputation with the blackjack crew as somebody who always smelled really bad and also never tipped. Falcon Rob knows him--I think he used to call him 'Edgar Winter', which was about the nicest nickname he earned from the casino staff.

Anyhow, this guy was a horrible player, and it was my mission to take every dime off of him and be a hero to my former co-workers out in the pit. I started out pretty well after my initial beat-down. After about an hour, 'E-dub' was down about three racks, and I was up $66. Hell, even one of the dealers who *never* plays got in the game after her shift ended, just because the guy was so bad (and he was stiffing the dealers every time he managed to win a pot, too, so I'm sure that provided some motivation).

The problem was, I was either card-dead or catching a never-ending string of second-place hands. Twice I flopped straights, both times I got rivered. A couple of times I turned top-two, only to lose to a set on the river. It was ugly. And three times in the span of twenty minutes or so, the smelly guy re-raised with a three or four-outer gutshot draw, and hit all three times! It was amazing. The dude went from being stuck over $400 to having almost $500 in front of him because everyone was gunning for him and giving action. He just happened to get absolutely run over by the deck--he caught every card he needed for over an hour straight.

On my last hand of the night, I had pocket nines, and the pot had $105 and seven-way action preflop. I caught a set, and my neighbor caught a set of fours, so the battle was on. The 'well groomed gentleman in the seven seat' kept re-raising with Jack-nothing and raked a $200+ pot when he made another inside straight on the river. I swear, it was like he was fooling around with the Matrix, stopping time, setting the deck after the turn, and then sitting back down...

I gave up after that, losing all of my profit plus my hundred-dollar buy-in. I just couldn't beat somebody who was that lucky.

Oh well, I guess I'm back to where I was before Saturday night... But it sure would've been nice to snap that guy off. I've *never* seen anyone run that lucky before.

Anyhow, after I gave up on that endeavor, I sat around shootin' the shiat with the floorman for a bit, but then headed out to do some shopping. I went over to Walmart to get all the goods for making a batch of spaghetti (and I just realized I forgot the Parmesan cheese, dammit), but also bought a few more household items--a new set of real glasses, so I don't have to keep drinking out of plastic cups, and a really nice 8-quart T-Fal stockpot.

Of course, the first thing I'm gonna do is boil water in it for my spaghetti noodles, but it's so nice that I want to make some actual, you know, stock with it. But I don't have any bones on hand, and onions are the only aromatics I've got in the veggie crisper. Eventually I'll get there--a good stock needs about a week's worth of leftovers, anyways. But then the question arises--what would I do with a bowl of stock? I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there, but for right now, I just want to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast. Later this afternoon, I'll bust out my Italian kung-fu and make The Mother of All Spaghetti.

Mikey

Uh, No Thanks

I'm in the middle of small kitchen experiment gone awry. Actually--experiment isn't the word--I'm just making quesadillas and realized I made a huge mistake while shopping for tortillas. I have the plain-old regular kind, but while in the store the other day, I saw some Mission Jalapeno & Cheddar Wraps. An impulse buy if there ever was one. I mean, how can you go wrong with cheddar and jalapeno? How indeed. I don't know how they managed to screw them up, but they sure did.

I've got one word to describe them: Yuk.

In the culinary sense, it's the opposite of synergy. All of the ingredients added up to less than the sum of their parts. I won't be making that mistake again. Flavored wraps--you can keep 'em.

Anyhow.

I've had a helluva busy several days now, and I still don't feel like I'm able to relax. I had lots of stuff that I planned to do on Thursday once I punched out of the casino after being there about five minutes, but like my Canadian friends like to say, I accomplished 'f*ck all'.

I came home, started unpacking a box full of books, found a Tom Clancy paperback that I purchased last July and never read (the receipt still sticking out like a bookmark), so that pretty much killed the rest of the afternoon and evening. On Friday, I had to work all day, and even though I'm not a big fan of the grind on dayshift, it was a decent showing. I got out at six or so, took a shower, and laid down for a minute, trying to organize my thoughts as to my next shopping trip. But that minute turned out to be almost eight hours, as I fell asleep and didn't wake up until 2:30 on Saturday morning.

I was hungry by then, so I made some breakfast and then went back to bed, reading my book for a couple more hours until the alarm went off at 5:45.

Once I got dressed, I was out the door and heading for North Las Vegas, where I had twelve hours of Hell ahead of me. Yep, it was Poker Plus time again, that semi-annual gathering of every poker player in the Stations orbit, a free-roll where everyone gets $700 worth of chips, 15-minute blind levels, and they roll the dice, hoping to win their share of about $300K. It's about my least favorite thing I've ever done, as far as work is concerned.

I was eligible to participate in it, but since I had to work the thing, I couldn't play. But my name was on the master list of participants, so as soon as my first table broke, I got in the 'loser line' and collected my $75 prize money that everyone got just for showing up. That'll help supplement the $4 per down we usually get in tips.

Actually, as much as everyone rags about working it, it's not *that* bad. It's just a very long day for very little money.

During the last session of the day, which started at 5:00 pm, I saw a couple of my gals in the crowd, and of course they wanted to hook up and go out later. I was tempted to just say screw it and go home and go to bed, but since I knew I'd have plenty of time to snooze on Sunday, I agreed to meet up with them later that evening. I clocked a solid 12 hours before getting the ok to leave, and I pointed the truck south, back towards the safe and familiar area of Henderson.

As tired as I was, I still took a shower and got dressed, then headed over to the casino. Basically, all we did was sit in the poker room, drink, and play cards all night. I could tell I wasn't playing my best--I made some really boneheaded mistakes, plus we were doing kamakazi shots over and over again. But I got lucky on one hand and made four sevens, which paid me a bonus of $100. That went right into the wallet, and even in my tired and inebriated state, I managed to not only break even, but pocket a whopping $8 in profit (not including my jackpot hundie!) for the session. Finally, by 2:00 am, I'd had enough. I cashed out, $108 richer, and came home. I think I was asleep about thirty seconds after my head hit the pillow.

The weather here in Vegas has been unseasonably cool for the past couple of days, so I enjoyed sleeping with the windows open to the cool breeze. I caught up on all the rest I'd missed from the night before, and it was wonderful--and there were no dogs barking either.

When I finally motivated myself out of bed, I got quite a bit accomplished. My dining room is now completely cleared out, my kitchen is about 90% put together, and most of the stuff is out of the living room. Basically, all that's left is putting together that TV stand and also getting all the books on shelves (although I'm thinking of buying another bookshelf first). After that, it's just a matter of hanging a few pictures on the wall and figuring out what I'm gonna do for furniture for the next few weeks.

Since I'm scheduled for the maximum 32 hour over the course of the next week, I don't have to work tonight, so I'm just gonna relax now. But maybe in a bit I'll go over and play some cards. I'd like to raise another hundred bucks or more, and one of my gals already called, asking if I was gonna go out tonight.

Probably.

Mikey

PS--I got a message from Carmen today. She's doing ok, just dealing with the latest curveballs that life has thrown her.

Taking One For The Team

Ok, it looks like that new couch and TV will have to wait at least one day longer than planned... I got to work at 11:00, and there was only one table going but four dealers on hand. The only interest list was a couple of people who called in but had yet to arrive. Yep, when I got the casino, there was one dealer for every two players. I guess we could've hosted a bunch of heads-up matches, but I don't think that idea would fly with our morning regulars...

So I opted to put a little good karma in the bank and told the floorman that I'd take the bullet if he needed to send somebody packing. Today was an 'extra' day for me, as is tomorrow, so I didn't mind giving up the grind for a day. If I would've stayed, I might've gotten only one down in before 1:00 o'clock, and then another dealer would've showed up. Of course, some more players would've likely come in, too, but still, it was looking like an afternoon of double breaks, so I told the gals that they could have my downs.

So I'm back home for the rest of the day. I've got no plans for the evening, either. Just gonna hang out here and do more household work, maybe spend an hour or two browsing on Art.com, shopping for stuff to hang on the walls, and maybe dirty enough dishes in the kitchen to finally run the dishwasher for the first time.

Mikey

A Week Of Firsts

Ok, now that I'm semi-settled into my new place, I'm really enjoying it. First of all, being able to do laundry in the middle of the night is downright wonderful. Same thing with banging around in the kitchen. No roommates to disturb, no dogs barking or wandering around underfoot. I love having my own place again.

Not only that, but it's nice and quiet here. For the last few months that Rob and I lived together, we had some sort of complete asshat living upstairs from us who seemed to spend his time either playing basketball on his kitchen floor, or playing video games on his home theater set-up with the volume cranked up to eleven. An inconsiderate douchenozzle if there ever was one. My new upstairs neighbor, on the other hand, a 95-lb Asian girl who walks on her tiptoes, is a much better tenant. I've only heard her making noise once, and I'm pretty sure it was because she was spending the afternoon cleaning. Otherwise, I don't hear a thing.

Another thing I noticed is that while I live in a *huge* apartment complex, the buildings are designed and situated in such a way that nobody's front doors face each other. Seriously--I must be able to see about 24 other units from my entryway, but not one of them has a line of sight to my front door. It seems much more private this way. And even though school is out for summer, I don't hear or see kids outside playing anywhere near my place. So far, I'm lovin' it.

Oh, and the maintenance guy finally showed up yesterday like a tattooed Santa Claus with a golf-cart full of goodies. I finally have doors on my laundry closet (although now, I'm kinda realizing that having no doors was much easier), and there is a new exhaust fan in my range hood, so now I'm free to cook without setting off smoke alarms when I'm deglazing a pan. Oh hell, who am I kidding? The only thing I've cooked so far was breakfast yesterday and then last night I boiled some water to cook a couple of Hebrew Nationals.

But right now, I'm drinking my first cup of coffee from my new kitchen, and it tastes a helluva lot better now that I've found my Britta pitcher and it's stash of filters. For the past year, the water had been coming from the tap in the bathroom. And yesterday, I made my first hot breakfast in this place, and I think I'll wait until Sunday to make my first 'real' dinner. Ever since I signed the papers on this place, I've been craving a huge pot of my almost-famous kitchen-sink spaghetti, and that seemingly endless row of colorful and tasty-looking vegetables at the WalMart SuperCenter has been tempting me to open the wallet like a smoking-hot stripper whose rent is due in the morning.

I mentioned before that I've only been living here for about a week, but I've already gone to the grocery store three times. I'm stocking up--my pantry and freezer are filling up, but my fridge seems ironically empty. Right now, I've got a door full of basic condiments, but the fruit and veggies are suspiciously absent. The middle shelf is half-full of only drinks--a couple of beers, a gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice, a pitcher of Crystal Lite lemonade, a few cans of DCWL, and the previously-mentioned Britta water pitcher. On the top shelf, a package of beer brats, two kinds of lunchmeat, cheese slices, and some maple-flavored sausage links. That's about it. I need to start cooking and get some leftovers in there.

I need to hit the store and get some mushrooms, onions, peppers, apples, oranges, blueberries, strawberries, bagged salad mix, more limes, garlic cloves, potatoes, and maybe some fresh herbs, too. I've got a freezer full of chicken breasts, but nothing to go with them right now. And if you can believe it, I don't have any bacon yet, either. I know--it's almost like blasphemy!

Part of the reason that I still haven't really cooked anything substantial yet is that just last night I finally found the storage tote that had the rest of the kitchen stuff in it--you know, things like plates, bowls, utensils, and the crock pot. Up until now, I've been eating off of paper plates and re-using the same plastic Miller Lite cup I got at the Hilton sports book two years ago when Doc Al was in town. Adding to the bachelor vibe is the fact that I'm still eating my meals in the living room, sitting in a camp chair, using a Coleman cooler as a tray table, while my TV sits on the floor, angled upward to a viewing angle by a couple of books crammed underneath the front of it.

But things are coming together. Instead of spending a bundle of money on a new flat-screen TV or a new couch, like I was tempted to do, I sent the money off to the bankers who still own my truck. And one of my gals called me last night to see if I wanted to go out and play some cards, but I took the responsible route and stayed home, saving money and slowly moving things around to their proper place. I'm kind of dragging it out, only because I know that once it gets done, that big empty living room will look rather dorky and I'll be tempted to spend some money on a cheapass used couch that I really won't like very much, instead of waiting to save up a few more bucks and getting something nice. Yep, I've been scouring Craigslist all week, but nothing really turns my crank (I'm looking for the exact same furniture my sister Amy has, but sadly, nobody ever sells that--it's too nice and too comfortable). It seems that everyone is selling ugly furniture, and yeah, I know slipcovers are available, but I'd really just rather have a new set of decent-looking furniture that I can call my own and not have to worry what kind of strange bodily fluids might still be lurking just beneath the surface. This is Vegas after all, and all kinds of freaky shiat goes on in this town.

Anyhow, that's where I'm at in the process--almost done, but delaying the finish as for long as possible. Well, at least until I get some decent furniture. Luckily for me, I've picked up a couple extra shifts this week, so that outta get the ball rolling. In fact, I've got to go in and work a day shift in a few hours. It won't be much fun, but it'll put a few bucks in my pocket.

Mikey

I Fought the Law, And the Law Won. Again.

They found me! I don't know how, but they found me...

Yep, I'm kinda feeling like Doc Brown just about the time the Libyans in the VW bus rounded the corner into Twin Pines Lone Pine Mall.

Those bastards found me.

Which bastards am I referring to? Those greedy bastards in Arizona who operate the photo-radar cameras all along the freeways in Phoenix, that's who. Apparently, that Friday morning that I was making the 60-mile trek from Ed W's house to Eddie B's house, I was doing 68 mph on I-17, which is a no-no. I saw the flash, but figured I could outrun the bureaucracy and get moved long before they tracked me down. No such luck.

So when I went over to fetch the bed and the last of my mail at the old house on Monday, there was an envelope from the Arizona Department of Citizen Shakedowns Public Safety that included a couple of nice photos of me speeding down the freeway. It looks like my lead foot is gonna cost me $181. Oh, and let's not forget about the protection money I have to pay to the City of Henderson for turning right onto Sunset Road at a stoplight, either.

Damn The Man!

Speaking of mail, there was an amazing coincidence today. I was up puttering around the house and saw that Starz was broadcasting Stripes this morning. So of course I wasted an hour or so in front of the TV watching that. Once I finally got motivated enough to get out and run some errands, the first thing I did was stop by and check my mailbox for the first time. Not surprisingly, there was already a bill from Cox Cable in there, but here's the thing that cracked me up.

You know how the mailman tapes the last name of the primary resident in the mailboxes whenever there is a large group of them all in the same place? Well, the previous resident's name was still taped in the box and apparently, the last name of the person who lived in this unit before me was.... Get ready for it...

HULKA!

Yep, the Big Toe himself used to live here! That's almost as cool as buying Jon Voight's used Le Baron...

Anyhow, that was pretty much the most interesting thing that happened to me today. After that, I ran to the bank and to the grocery store. And that was my third trip to the grocery store this week. I'm excited to be able to use a kitchen again! Just this morning I cooked eggs for the first time in a year. I'm not kidding. It's been a year since I cooked eggs for breakfast.

Late last night, once I got done playing cards (yeah, I lost in spectacular fashion...), I hit the WalMart for a few other things. I'd been wanting to make toast for breakfast, but apparently, I'd forgotten that I'd gotten rid of my old toaster oven when I packed up all the kitchen stuff a year ago (it was old and on it's last legs anyways). So before I came home last night, I bought a new Black & Decker toaster oven, along with some other kitchen stuff (cookie sheets, another spatula, a trash can, and more groceries). So this morning, in addition to cooking eggs, I also got to have some English muffins with real butter and honey. Oh hell yeah. Sure beats the hell out of that crap in the employee dining room.

And I prefer a toaster oven over a microwave, anyways. I almost never use a microwave except to make popcorn or nuke leftovers. And I've made it my entire life without ever buying a Hot Pocket, a streak that shall remain intact. Besides, leftover pizza in the microwave sucks. In the toaster oven, it's *much* better. Even with canned soup or chili--I prefer to use the stove. So no, my new apartment does not have a microwave, and I doubt that I'll buy one, either. But I'll use that toaster oven almost every day.

That's the news from here. I wish there were more to report, but I'm happily enjoying a dull day where I don't have to be anywhere and I don't have to move any furniture or boxes. I may do a load of laundry and unpack a few things, but chances are that I'm gonna just chill out with a good book and some scurvy medicine for the balance of the afternoon.

Mikey

D-U-N Done!

All my stuff is finally here, bed and all. No more sleeping on the floor for me--three nights were more than enough! And I've been slowly getting things squared away over here, but the downside is that once all the boxes are emptied and stored, the stark emptiness of my living room will be revealed.

Anyhow, I worked on night on Sunday night, like I usually do, but I was so damn tired that I really wanted the game to break. The floorman felt the same way, too. He's been dealing at the World Series during the day, then working the floor in our room at night, so he was just as exhausted as I was. But we had one of those games where all the players had magic pants that kept dispensing $100 bills, and nobody wanted to go home.

At first, I was a little bummed, because I was so tired, but sometime around 3:30 in the morning or so, I caught my second wind, embraced the reality that I was gonna be locked down all night, and happily pocketed a nice chunk of change for my efforts. But man, was I ever wiped out once I finally got cut loose in the morning. I came straight back to the house, took a shower, and tried to snooze all day. But that nest I built on the living room floor just wasn't as comfy as I needed it to be, and only sheer exhaustion allowed me to finally fall asleep. Of course, I woke up stiff and sore this afternoon, gimping around like Fred Sanford for about fifteen minutes until I worked the kinks out.

But I headed over to the bank to deposit a pile of hundies, then got a cashier's check for my first month's rent (and I subsequently found out that a regular check will do--the cashiers check was just for application fees and initial move-in costs), and came back here to the office and gladly paid less rent than I was paying over at the old house with the nice view. I also talked to the HNIC Property Manager, and told her of my disappointment with her maintenance crew (still no doors on the laundry closet, still no silverware drawer). Apparently, something needs to be ordered, but she's gonna have her number one guy come over and do whatever he can to knock out the four or five things that have been ignored since I got here. Luckily nothing is really urgent, but it's little things that should've been done before I moved in.

Once all that was taken care of, I took off and ran a few errands. I totally spaced putting in the change of address form with the post office, so I picked that up, and then I went over to Costco and paid for a new membership. Rob and I had memberships with Sam's Club when we lived together over on GV Parkway, but it's in that whole Eastern/Silverado Ranch clusterf*ck, and I hate driving over there unless I'm going to Grimaldi's (or back in the day going to Kimmy's place). Costco is much easier to get to, and I prefer them anyways, for some unknown reason. And they have a gas station there which allows me to pay $2.31 a gallon while everyone else around town is $2.49 or higher.

I didn't buy anything while I was there, but I wandered around inside for about 45 minutes, just looking at stuff. Oh yes, they have 40" Sharp Aquos LCD TVs for only $749, so if I have to choose between that and a couch, well, I guess I'll be looking for beanbag chairs on Craigslist. They also sell 20-packs of Gillette Mach 3 Turbo razor blades for $39.99, and two bucks a cartridge is about the best price I've ever seen.

Once I got out of there, somehow not spending at least $200, I went over to the huge furniture store across the street to look around. I saw a few things I liked, but damn, furniture is so frickin' overpriced. And not only that, but the salesman are just as bad as the reptiles on the used-car lot. I didn't stay long. Now that I'm lusting after that Sharp Aquos, furniture just didn't turn my crank. Hey, I've got a couple of camp chairs. I can just bring them in from the patio when company comes over...

After the sun went down, I drove over to the old house and picked up the bed, which took all of thirty seconds to load in the truck. I gave my old roommate his house key and my new address so he could send me whatever is left of my deposit, and I was on my way. Unloading was a bit slower being singlehanded, but Linda's hand-truck earned a gold star once again. I hardly broke a sweat moving a very unwieldy queen-sized mattress and box spring.

Now that I'm back here at the house, I'm relaxing a bit before heading back into work. I'm hoping tonight is just as lucrative as last night was--I've spent a small fortune in the past couple of weeks, so I need to refill the coffers.

Mikey

Monday Morning Quickie

Ok, it's actually late on Sunday night as I'm writing this, but I'm on my way out the door to work in a few minutes, so I thought I'd make a quick update and post a couple of photos.

Anyhow, I'd like to say that the move is completely finished, but that last load took much longer than anticipated. I took some extra time to do some cleaning, and scrubbed the tub before calling it quits. I had a few more things than I remembered, and I was amazed at how much shiat I had in the pantry. I swear I've got enough canned goods to last me through a nuclear winter and the ensuing zombie attacks which would certainly last for several months afterward. And I made the move without breaking anything, although I managed to spill about a few tablespoons of rather expensive EVOO on the passengers seat of my truck. I got most of it cleaned up, but it still looks like somebody sat there and peed themselves. Time for a shampoo I guess.

So all of my kitchen stuff is now here, along with all of my spices and mise-en-place, so once I get everything put away and organized, and then maybe buy some real groceries, I'll start cooking again. Oh, speaking of real groceries, I did some shopping the other day:


I haven't been able to use the coffee creamer yet--I think my coffee maker is still sitting behind the drivers seat in my truck--but I was thirsty, so a bottle of Gatorade and a sixer of Michelob Light found their way to my fridge. Actually, now that I got all the canned goods and such from the old pantry, I've got plenty of groceries on hand--just nothing that requires refrigeration except a 12-pack of Diet Coke with Lime. Here's my new kitchen as it looks right now:


Notice all the booze? Yeah, that's not even the popular stuff I normally drink--that's the second and third string. All the rum is in the dining room on a built-in shelf. Oh, and just because people have asked, here is the Mother Of All Hand Trucks, just after pushing about 150 lbs. worth of storage totes from my truck to the front door:

That thing has been an absolute lifesaver this week, and I owe Linda Lou a big thank-you and a beer or two. But I've got to use it one more time--I'm not totally done with this move. By the time I was able to move the bed downstairs to the garage, it was getting too late to make two trips, so I'm just gonna go back over and get it tomorrow afternoon. But otherwise, I'm done. All that's left is the bed. I'd like to get all unpacked and organized in a day or two, but then, I'm scheduled to work five days this week. That never happens. So it'll be an ongoing process, and in the meantime, I'll slowly get stuff migrated to it's proper places, and then I'll have a big gaping hole in the living room where the furniture is supposed to go. Yep, it's time to save my pennies and get a new couch and chair.

Speaking of pennies, I've got to go to work. Y'all have a great Monday!

Mikey

I Really Should Be Sleeping

Here it is, 9:30 on Sunday morning, I'm dead tired, yet I can't sleep. I'm about 99.999% finished with the move, getting the last of the difficult loads over here to the new place around 8:30 last night.

I checked with the poker room to see if I was free for the night, and they'd already called in another dealer at 9:00 pm, so I was off the hook. That made me happy--I worked on Friday night, a full eight hours, made ridiculously good money, but I was wiped out. I rolled out early in the morning on Saturday, went and grabbed some pancakes for breakfast with one of my buddies who was also stuck there all night, and then I went back to the old house to use the bed for about nine hours.

Once I got up, I scrubbed the bathroom, packed the closet up, and started the endless trudge up and down the stairs. Of course having three dogs underfoot added a degree of difficulty to the process, so I'm damn glad that experience is behind me.

Anyhow, once I finally got over here to the apartment, I unloaded pretty much everything, and when I was wrestling with the computer desk, one of my new neighbors came outside and insisted on helping me get it out of the truck. That was very nice, and made me feel like I've moved into a good place. Then, a couple of minutes later, as I was wheeling it around the building towards my door, another neighbor was walking by and asked if I needed any help to get it into the house. I thanked him, but declined--I was close to the door, and once it was across the threshold, it was easy--no stairs to climb. But those two encounters make it seem like I've moved into a friendly neighborhood, and that I made the right choice when I was looking for a new place to live.

I pushed a few boxes around, then took a shower, tempted to just collapse on the floor with a bottle of water and a Bourdain book. But, being the poker degenerate that I am, I figured I needed to go out and raise a little bit of cash. So I headed over to the casino, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to work last night.

I had fun, a couple of my friends were in the room playing at the same time, but it was kind of a grind. I didn't really win any huge pots or have anything interesting happen, and by the time 2:00 am rolled around, I was up $55 so I called it quits, exhausted.

I drove over to the all-night Walmart SuperCenter with the intention of buying an inflatable air mattress, but the Coleman ones were $25 and didn't include an air pump. And although I *think* I might have an air pump somewhere in that collection of plastic tote boxes stacked in my living room, I wasn't sure. And I didn't want to pay another $20 to buy another one, especially if I only needed the air mattress for a night, or two, max. (My bed is currently standing up against the wall in my otherwise empty bedroom at the old house). Hell, for $45, I could just check into the hotel--actually, I could get a free room with all my points... But then I remembered that I had my queen-sized egg-crate foam mattress pad at the apartment, along with about three comforters, a couple of blankets, and a sleeping bag, so I could put together a pretty serviceable nest on the living room floor. So I skipped the air mattress. And the hotel room.

Instead, I got a few other essentials--a new oscillating fan for my bedroom, some more cleaning supplies, and a toilet plunger. Not that I needed one at the time, but purchasing one at 2:30 in the morning conveyed a sense of urgency to the otherwise unmotivated cashier who was moving at half-speed until I showed up. She was careful not to touch my hands when she handed me the change...

Anyhow, I got home, thinking I'd fall right asleep, but it just didn't happen. I felt like a line from Soul Asylum's Runaway Train was written for me personally--So tired that I couldn't even sleep...

So I stayed up, did a couple of loads of laundry (Nope, I didn't get it all done over at the old place, and I now have confirmation that my washer is brand-spankin' new--it was hooked up, but nobody had turned on the water faucets on the wall behind it), I took down the sheet and hung up the shower curtain and liner, set up the computer desk and side tables, surfed the net, and oh yeah, built my nest on the living room floor.

I also called back to Nashville and talked to Mamasan for a little while, thinking that maybe updates on the dog, cats, and weather might lull me to sleep, but no such luck. Now I *have* to sleep, because I need to get over to the house sometime later this afternoon/evening and pick up the last four totes from the garage, my groceries from the pantry, and oh yeah, my bed. I'm wishing Angy was here with her stash of sleeping pills.

If worse comes to worse, I guess I could raid my medicine stash and take a Benedryl, but that might knock me out for like 12 hours. I need to be up by six or seven at the latest...

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to cowboy up and deal with it, and hope that the last table breaks early tonight. If not, I guess I can spend all day Monday sleeping. Hopefully in a bed this time.

Mikey

I Shouldn't Feel This Lazy on a Friday Afternoon

Man, I just can't seem to get it into gear today.

I guess it might have something to do with blowing off my chores last night and going to play poker instead. Yep, I should've gone back to the old house last night and got some work done, but once I got back here to the apartment, I just didn't feel like doing much. I kicked it around here for a bit--the maintenance guy came by and installed a set of blinds in the living room, but the rest of the stuff on the list, not so much...

Anyhow, once the sun went down and I got a few boxes unloaded, I changed my shirt and drove over to the casino for a bit. The poker room was hopping, and I had to wait about 20 minutes for a table, but it was nice to get away from the grunt work for awhile.

I didn't have much luck to start out with--I think I got stuck a hundred bucks in the first half-hour. That's the downside of getting big suited Aces, flopping four to the flush, and then never getting there. I called away eighty bucks, easy, on hands that never made it. Even worse, I folded a four-of-a-kind, and right now, any quads pays a $100 bonus.

I had pocket threes pre-flop, of course it got raised, so I called. I was in early position, the flop ran out 9-10-J, so I checked, somebody bet, somebody else raised, and I did the prudent thing and folded--my threes being no good at all. The turn brought a three, which was a little irritating, but somebody else had obviously flopped a straight, so I felt like it was a good laydown. Then the river brought the case three and I was a little pissed... Oh well, what can ya do?

Besides being stuck for a hundy most of the night and giving up on a big hand too soon, to make matters worse, the air conditioning at the casino had gone out, too. So it slowly got hot in the poker room. I would've just left, but I wanted to get my money back--and there were a couple of guys at the table who I knew I could beat, it was just a matter of time. I sat there sweating my ass off, trying to catch a hand all night long. But I was card-dead for a good solid two hours or more, so it was truly a grind.

Eventually, I made a couple of flushes and got paid off, and around 5 am this morning, I was up $26 for the night. The game was shorthanded, I was hot, and tired, so I called it a night. I was gonna go over to the old house and sleep on the bed under the ceiling fan, but decided to just crash at the apartment instead (it's actually closer to the casino). So I drove over here, rolled out a sleeping bag and a couple of comforters in the living room, and crashed for several hours on the floor.

Now, I'm all stiff from sleeping like a bum, and I've got to get over to the house and get all of my clothes and the stuff out of the bathroom. I'm pretty sure I'm down to the last two truckloads, mostly small stuff, besides the bed and desk, and then I'll be done. But then I'll be spending a few days unpacking and getting the new place organized. Right now the living room looks like a warehouse, and the only thing in the bedroom is a suitcase, a bookshelf, and my computer on the floor in the corner.

I'll be glad when this is all over.

Mikey

Back In Business!

Woot! That didn't take long... Usually, when I've moved in the past, I've been offline for a couple of days or more. Not this time, baby. I unhooked the computer this morning around 10:30, and here it is, not even four hours later, and I'm back up and running at the new place!

I was first on the list for the cable guy, and he got here about quarter after one. It only took him about a half hour to get the apartment wired and the TV and modem up to speed. Now if I only had my desk here and my TV stand put together, I'd be in great shape... Yep, I'm lying on the floor as I type this, in the corner of my new bedroom, enjoying the sweet sweet air conditioning.

I brought a bunch of heavy stuff over this morning, knowing I had to be here between 1:00 and 3:00 to meet the cable guy, but damn, did that ever suck. It was hot outside. Luckily when I got here, I scored a covered spot close to my front door, so the unload was much easier. And Linda's hand-truck has been a godsend. I'd be paying a couple of day laborers to move all this shiat otherwise. Lugging boxes full of books in this heat sucks like crap on a stick.

I also talked to the leasing office today--they're gonna beg borrow and steal from another empty unit and get my blinds replaced and my laundry closet doors installed sometime this afternoon. Then I should be good to go.

The first thing I did once I got here was to unload all the booze since it's taking up the most floor space. Besides a shelf full of rum, I've got a lot of oddball stuff on hand. Blue Curacao? When am I ever gonna use that? And that bottle of Seagrams VO--it might be awhile before I get around to putting that in the ol' cocktail shaker. And there is a two year old bottle of Jager that's gonna probably be around for several more years unless I can get Larry the surfing sailor to drop by on his next visit to Sin City. Somehow, the bottle of Ketel One is nowhere to be found...

Anyhow, I'm gonna lay low for the next few hours, waiting for the sun to go down. Then I'll hit up Wally World for an air mattress, a few more totes, and a couple of other odds and ends, then head back to the old house. Most of my clothes are still over there, and I haven't touched the bathroom yet, either. Luckily, all the heavy stuff except the bed and desk are already moved. Tonight's load will be much easier, and since I won't be distracted by TV or internet while I'm over there, I'll get done much faster. I'll get some cleaning done, grab my clothes, empty the pantry, and bring over the small stuff that's stacked in the gameroom. By then, I'll be about 99% finished with the move. Then I begin unpacking and making this place liveable.

Mikey

Last Post From This Old House

Yep, the time has come to unplug the computer and the TV and get them moved over to my new apartment. I've got an appointment to meet the cable guy in about 12 hours from now, but since I'm a night-crawler, I'm up and preparing for the rest of this busy day. I should probably start by taking a shower, since I've been wearing the same shorts and t-shirt since Tuesday morning, and I can't remember the last time I shaved. Instead of having two places to live, I look--and probably smell--like I have zero...

Anyhow, yesterday wasn't nearly as productive as I had hoped--apparently, my truck doesn't hold as much cargo as I thought it did, and the monster dolly, after probably years of non-use, had flat tires, something you can't tell when you're pushing it around empty. I didn't really need it that much to do the loading--I can back my truck right up to the garage here, so everything that's in there is just a matter of schlepping it about 10 or 15 feet. I had a few totes stacked at the bottom of the stairs, however, and being full of books, they were heavy. Stacked three high, it was damn near impossible to maneuver the dolly, and now I've got a huge black stripe on the entryway sidewalk that needs to get scrubbed off.

So on my way over to the new place, I stopped at the gas station with the idea of putting air in the tires. One problem--I left my wallet on the desk upstairs in the bedroom back at the house, and didn't have a single dollar to my name--and I needed 75 cents for air. No change in the center console, either. Damn.

There was a guy sitting on a planter outside the doors at the Sinclair station, begging for change, and for a moment I thought of turning the tables on him and asking him for a buck. But didn't thing he'd be willing to part with a portion of his hard-earned scratch, especially to a well-dressed and successful gentleman like myself.

So it was back to the house to fetch the wallet and start all over again.

The second attempt was much more successful, and flush with cash, not only did I spend 75 cents on compressed air, I grabbed a Marathon Energy Bar and some Gatorade. That made a huge difference, as the last meal I'd had was late Sunday night at work. I aired up the tires on the dolly, and it was much easier to do the unload--it took me all of ten minutes to get the truck emptied out. And I realized at that point that I have three bins full of booze--two coolers and one plastic storage tote. Damn, I should've done more drinking last month, if only to make for less stuff to haul.

At this point, I'm just stacking everything in the living room, and I'm realizing that I have packrat tendencies. I'm amazed at how much more junk I've collected in the past four years, yet none of it is furniture, save for a couple of bookcases and a TV stand. And I still have to move the bed, TV, desk, all of my clothes, end tables, and my mini fridge, not to mention all of my kitchen stuff which is still mostly in the garage, but some is actually in the, you know, kitchen.

The energy bar just served as an appetizer, because by the time I finished up, I realized how hungry I was. One cannot live on coffee alone for very long. Before leaving however, I left another scorching message at the leasing office--the work was *still* not done on my place--and while the last message was more like measured, "Heads up" call, this time there was a little bit of urgency in my message and I made them aware that I'm running out of patience. If it doesn't get done today, then they're gonna get a full-on shiat-storm on the answering machine on Friday morning.

Anyhow, on the way back to the house, I stopped for dinner at a local Mexican joint--Fausto's. There are a couple of them here in Henderson, Marcie introduced me to 'em, and they are wonderful. Like a cleaner and better-run Roberto's Taco Shop. I had myself a huge carne asada burrito and three rolled tacos, washing it all down with some raspberry iced tea. Oh hell yeah was it good. Normally, I can't quite finish all that, but last night, it was no problemo. I mowed it down with extreme prejudice and also had a handful of pickled carrots to go with it. Yum!

While eating alone, it's almost a compulsion for me to have something to read. I feel naked if I don't have a book or magazine with me. Luckily, I'd had the foresite to rummage through one of my storage totes and grabbed a book on the way out, Anthony Bourdain's Bone In The Throat. Unlike his other books, this one is a work of fiction--a gangster/crime novel--and even though the reviews were kinda so-so, I find that I'm really enjoying it. So far, I've loved everything he's written, fact or fiction, and this one is no exception.

Anyhow, dinner was excellent, and a nice break and re-charge. But once I got back here to the house, it was getting late so I didn't get too much else done. I read for a bit, then went to bed for a few hours. Now that I'm up, I'm planning on how the rest of my day is gonna go.

I was thinking the bed might get moved this afternoon, but I'm having my doubts. Pretty much everything else I need for living will be at the new place by 1:00 this afternoon, then I've got to hang out and wait for the cable guy. I plan on spending the down time hanging up pictures and settling in and getting the new place somewhat organized while I wait around this afternoon, and I don't know if I'll feel up to getting the bed wrestled down the stairs and over to the new place after all I've got to do today. So I may spend twenty bucks for an air mattress to sleep on for the next couple of nights and bring the bed over last.

Anyhow, that's all from here. The next time I post, it'll be from the new apartment. I'm not sure when that'll be, but if I run out of gas this afternoon, it may be tonight--I'll probably be writing from the floor of my new living room, sprawled out under the ceiling fan and enjoying a dinner of ibuprofen and Gatorade.

Mikey

Gettin' Sweaty on Hump Day

I don't know why I've been so low on energy lately--I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that I haven't had a real meal in a couple of days, and the fact that I've been working a lot and also expending a bunch of energy stressing over the move.

Stressing? Well, maybe not that, but just getting all of the 'little things' done is a pain in the ass. Anyhow, yesterday seemed to be catch-up day as far as sleep was concerned. I got a few chores done, but once I got back from the Linda's place and Walmart, I was just done. I turned on the computer to check email and such, and I couldn't keep my eyes open. So I just turned off the light and fell asleep, fully clothed, wearing my watch, not emptying my pockets or anything.

But I woke up around 3:30 this morning, feeling much better, and got another storage tote filled with books, my last two loads of laundry sorted, my desk kinda-sorta packed up, and both bookcases completely emptied. I also made the last pot of coffee here at this house. I didn't go all out because my roommate was asleep downstairs, but I got a lot done.

In just a bit, I'm going to load up the truck and haul another batch of junk over to the new apartment, and then go somewhere and get some real breakfast. Once I get back here, I'd like to do another load of small stuff, but by late this afternoon, I'd like to be about 90% done with the move, having nothing here but the bed, the desk, the bookshelves, and a dufflebag full of clothes. I doubt that'll happen, but hey, it's only Wednesday. I've got until Sunday. But the TV goes first thing tomorrow morning, and the internet gets hooked up on Thursday afternoon, so by that point, I'd like to be sleeping in the new place.

Right now, I'm just delaying the inevitable workout. It's gonna get hot soon, so I've got to get after it.

Mikey

Linda Lou Saves the Day. Again.

I'm definitely moving at half-speed, as far as this relocation goes. I thought I had enough Rubbermaid totes to hold all of my shiat--lots of CDs, DVDs, and books. Good lord I gotta lotta books. At least I had enough totes when I moved here a year ago... But all those boxes from Amazon add up, and so I needed to go buy more stuff to hold books. A trip to Walmart was in order.

Besides, I had to buy stuff like a new shower curtain, paper towels, cleaning supplies, etc., so I couldn't delay the shopping trip any longer. At least I was gonna wait until watching tonight's episode of Deadliest Catch though. Can't miss that.

Anyhow, before I left to do my shopping, Linda Lou called with an offer I couldn't refuse. Here I was willing to spend $15 a day to rent a hand-truck from U-Haul, and she tells me that she has a big industrial-strength dolly in her closet. WTF? This is the same Linda Lou who has no food in her fridge, no oil in her engine, has never tasted guacamole, and thinks that What About Bob and Pee Wee's Big Adventure are the heighth of cinematic achievement. And she lives in an apartment. I know lots of people who live in apartments, and not a single one of them keep a dolly in the hall closet. Honestly, at first, I didn't really believe her. I figured she'd have no idea what a 'dolly' was. It was an offer so far out of left field that I would've been less shocked had Barney Frank called me up and asked me if I had any use for a closet full of old Playboys.

Still not believing her, I made her describe it to me, just to be sure we were on the same page.

It's a tall thing with two wheels and it folds out so you can move big furniture and stuff...

Hmmm... The folding-out thing threw me for a loop--I figured it was a low-duty stainless steel one people use in their offices to carry the inter-office mail bins. But I thanked her for her offer and told her I'd be over in about an hour to come and get it. I figured at the very least, I could carry one box at a time with it, being careful not to destroy it with heavy boxes full of books, camping gear, booze, and kitchen supplies.

But when I got over to her house, lo and behold, sitting there in the entry hall was the Mother of All Hand Trucks, a heavy duty monster with huge tires that could easily be used to move big-ticket appliances. And the fold-out thing was a two-foot extension making it useful for moving bookcases or even a couch if need be. All I could say was "Wow". It was a thing of beauty, and will be very useful indeed. It'll make short work of all the junk in my garage.

I couldn't just pick it up and run, so I stuck around when Linda offered me a beer. She's made quite a big deal out of the (lack of) contents in her fridge, so I had to see for myself. This here is a snapshot of Linda Lou's fridge:



As sparse as it looks, that's actually pretty full for her. But she had company this past weekend, so that explains the diet Pepsi, eggs, and vegetables. Of course she keeps that same can of Spotted Dick front and center just for shock value. (Clickie for full-sized goodness) Anyhow, next to the eggs and Spotted Dick, you see those purple and orange cans? That's some sort of Chocolate Stout she picked up at Whole Foods, and damn, is it ever tasty.

I'm not much of a stout drinker at all, in fact, I've been known to stir the pot by saying Nobody drinks Guinness because they like the taste, they only drink it when other people are watching. But a chocolate stout sounded intriguing, so I gave it a try. It's damn good. All I kept thinking about was how potent it would be if you added a shot of Stoli Vanilla to a pint--It would be like drinking the Devil's chocolate milk. So tasty, but two pints would knock you on your ass.

Anyhow, about the time we settled down with our pints of stout, her boyfriend Mike showed up to join us. Actually, he showed up to join her--I was just there picking up a dolly and raiding her fridge. But we had a nice visit for a few minutes and then I hit the road, leaving the two of them to do whatever it is that adults do whenever they're alone together...

My first stop was over at the Walmart where the Evel Knievel wannabe with the small wang gave me a ticket last week. I loaded up on some cleaning supplies, paper products, another camp chair for my patio, and my first 'grocery' purchase for my new place:


Yep, had to get some coconut-creme flavored coffee creamer. I also had to leave a scorching message on the answering machine at the leasing office, as all the work they promised would be done by Tuesday hadn't been touched. I'm still missing a drawer and cabinet door in the kitchen, a set of blinds in the living room, and my laundry-closet doors are nowhere to be found.

But the power was on, I had light and running water, and the A/C worked perfectly. I didn't hang around long, just unloaded and left. Now I'm back here at the house, wishing I'd stopped and got some dinner while I was out. I haven't eaten anything all day, and I'm pretty hungry. I don't even have any bottled water or Gatorade in my mini-fridge, either.

Anyhow, I've got to tackle this mess that is my desk before I take the next load, so that's my project for tonight.

Y'all have a good one.

Mikey

No Points For 60th Place

Hey everyone...

I feel like such a slacker this week, at least as far as the blog goes. I've been neglecting the keyboard very much lately, but then again, I have a legitimate excuse. I've been busier than hell.

I've had to work every day this past weekend, and I've also been a slave to the phone--I've had to go in early a couple of times because of the busy holiday traffic. I've also got that whole moving thing going on, and yeah, even though I've got all week, I'd really like to be done by Thursday. But between work kicking my ass, and feeling tired and cranky from being slightly sick, I haven't been able to get nearly as much done as I'd like.

I got home this morning around 6:30 or so, and have been sleeping ever since. And I'm definitely *not* moving stuff during the heat of the day, so right now, I'm relaxing with a cool drink, watching the afternoon shows on ESPN, and once the sun goes down, I'll take another load of stuff over to the new apartment.

Tomorrow is when the heavy lifting happens, however. In fact, I'm gonna run over to the U-Haul place and rent a cargo dolly, just because I can get stuff done about three times faster with about 90% less effort. And I don't wanna burn my hands again, that's for sure. The power gets switched on officially today, so I'm hoping that I'll be sleeping there by Thursday night, and on Friday the only thing left to do here at the house is the final cleaning.

So that's the plan for the rest of the week. I would've gotten a bunch done yesterday, but on Sunday I realized that the annual Binion's Poker Classic started again on Monday, and it kicked off with the Casino Employee's Event (the same tournament I took sixth place in last summer). I couldn't miss that. So after working all night, I came home, got about four hours worth of sleep, then got my ass up out of bed and dragged it downtown and got into the tournament.

The problem, besides still being tired as hell and fighting that bug, is that I haven't played in but one poker tournament in the past four months. My tournament game is rusty as hell. Having been concentrating on cash games, my mindset was a little different than last summer when all I did was play tournaments. So I've got to make some sort of adjustment.

Anyhow, there were 99 people entered into the event at Binion's, and once it got started, I could tell that I was just not playing very well at all. I was weaker than usual, and got pushed off a couple of hands--I was definitely not playing my 'A' game. Along with that, I was pretty card-dead for the first couple of levels.

However, as tired, sick, and weak as I was feeling, I managed to get a decent chip-stack built when I doubled up with pocket Queens that turned into a full house against a guy who had pocket Jacks. But that thrill didn't last very long.

Somewhere in the fourth or fifth level, I was in the small blind and finally got pocket Aces--only the fourth pocket pair I'd seen all day. The action was raised before it got to me, so I re-raised. My opponent then came over the top and went all-in pre-flop. He had me covered, so I figured I would double up. It was an easy call for me.

He turned over King-Queen off-suit, and I thought I was golden with my pocket Aces. But then the dealer ran two Kings out on the flop and I was done. Out in 60th place. Ugh. Honestly, though, sitting there in the tournament, I was feeling like crap and didn't know how I'd make it nine or ten hours that it would take to make the final table. Maybe getting busted out was a blessing, because I just wasn't feeling it yesterday.

So, I took off and headed for home. But, when I left Binion's, I realized that I was feeling pretty hungry. Had I thought about it before hitting the valet, I would've gone to the snack bar and got a bowl of chili and some cornbread or something. It was too late for that, so instead, I just headed west on Charleston and made my way over to Chicago Brewing Company. I hadn't been there in far too long, and I wanted a good meal.

I got some 'garlic donuts' and a bowl of French onion soup to start off with, then had a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with homemade ranch chips for my entree. It was all very good, but the best part of the meal was their seasonal Springfest Ale. Damn, that was tasty, and much better than I expected. I downed three pints while I was there, and if I didn't have to drive all the way back to Henderson, I might've stayed there all night, emptying their kegs...

But, having not had much sleep, still feeling a little out of sorts, and knowing that I had to work later, I headed for home.

Once I got back to the house, I puttered around for a bit, moving some stuff out of the bedroom and out to the game room before giving up and going to bed. I got about an hour's worth of sleep before the phone rang again--the poker room was calling, asking me to come in early. It was a decent night at work, not great, but not bad.

That brings us to today. Now that I've gotten enough sleep, my evening will be dedicated to clearing out my room, at least down to the bare bones. We'll see how that goes.

By the way, the internet connection is probably gonna get cut off here sometime tomorrow night. Once that happens, it'll be a couple of days before I'm back up and running at my new place.

More later...

Mikey

Touching Base

For as little as I've gotten done these past couple of days, I'm certainly worn out. I pulled an all-nighter at work, after a long day on Saturday, and I think I'm coming down with a bug of some sort--I've woken up to a sore throat and a little achy for a few days too. Not what I need right now.

Oh, and speaking of bugs--check out the front of my truck. I haven't washed it since I got back from Phoenix a week ago, but that trek across the desert just pasted my grill with all kinds of flying critters.


Yep, I think it's time for a wash.

Looking through the photos that I still have on my camera, I found a couple that I took on Friday night that I'd forgotten about. Carmen and I had dinner at the 'M' and then spent the rest of the night playing poker. But I had a comp for two for their seafood buffet, so we took full advantage of it.

We got there kinda late--we didn't have much time to really hit it up and try everything we wanted to but we just *had* to hit the dessert station before they closed up for the night. Actually, Carmen has the sweet tooth and did most of the damage. I just got a slice of pecan pie and a couple of scoops of ice cream, but girlfriend mowed it down! Check out the damage--

This is the "before" picture, after the first trip through the dessert line:


And her she is after putting it all down. Girl makes me proud!


While the buffet itself was pretty good (we only did one round of dinner grub--mostly shrimp and chicken, while sampling a few other things), but the desserts were a hit. Carmen made me try the peanut butter ice cream, and damn, it was awesome--it was by far our favorite thing we ate. I had originally gotten a scoop of lemon, but it wasn't very tasty. But that peanut butter ice cream was so good that we both went back on got seconds just as they were shutting the whole place down for the night.

After that, we had a fun night at the poker table until around two in the morning. Then we drove around like the Seinfeld crew for awhile looking for Carmen's car, as she was in such a hurry to get there, she forgot where she parked. We eventually found it and said our goodbyes, but it was a great night.

I slept in on Saturday, after getting a message that my move-in appointment was pushed back until 11:30 am. So I got up at ten, loaded the truck with stuff from the garage, then headed over to the new apartment. It took about a half hour to sign all the paperwork and go over everything, and then I finally got the keys and was able to see the new place.

A nice surprise is that the power was still hooked up for the maintenance crew, so I had lights, A/C, and a working ceiling fan. That made the unload process a bit less of a pain in the ass. But here's the thing. By the time I loaded the truck, drove over, signed all the paperwork, did the walk-through, and then started to unload stuff, everything had been roasting out in the Nevada sun for almost two hours.

And the first thing I grabbed were two 40-lb. surplus 50-caliber steel ammo cans. Oh holy shiat did I burn the hell out of my hands. And I don't have work gloves, either, so I just had to man up and take it. That thirty yards between the truck and the storage closet seemed like a mile. When I got done, I felt like that nazi dude in Indiana Jones after he grabbed the headpiece out of the fire.

And it didn't get any better either. The metal chair frames were just as bad, as was the metal frame on the utility table. And the Rubbermaid totes had gotten so hot that the plastic went soft--while they weren't quite as hot to the touch as the metal stuff, it was impossible to lug an 80-lb tote full of books by the handles. So I hoisted 'em up over my head, coolie style, hoping I wouldn't do another face plant like I did at Eddie's pool last weekend.

It was an extreme workout, and I was sweating like a pig. And like a dumbass, I drove off and left my bottled water back at the house. So I was dying of thirst when I finally finished off the first load. There's a gas station right around the corner, so my first priority was to stop there and get a drink. I think I downed two bottles of Gatorade before getting out of the parking lot, and then polished off another bottle of water by the time I got back to the house.

And before I had even pulled into the driveway, my phone was ringing. It was work.

Shiat.

I did *not* want to get called in right then. But the gal who was working the floor was calling as more of a 'heads up' courtesy call. She said she might need me in about an hour, or not at all, but they'd definitely be calling me for swing shift a few hours later, no matter what.

Ok.... So I guess my moving activities were done for the day. While waiting for her to call back, I did a few other little chores like laundry and such and started clearing out the closet. I braced myself for the bad news when I heard the phone ringing again about a half-hour later, but I was off the hook. Apparently, a game broke, so they didn't need me right away. But I was told to keep the phone handy.

Instead of moving another hot and sweaty truckload of junk, I took a shower and dozed, waiting for the inevitable phone call. I had to get some sleep, figuring I'd be up all night.

Around 9:00 pm, my gal Sheena called, wanting me to go play poker with her. I told her of my situation, said I'd call in and find out when they needed me.

When I got hold of the desk, I was told that I was off the hook for the night--if I wanted to come in and play for a couple of hours I could do so and not have to worry about getting asked to work. No problem there! I would've rather worn shorts and had a beer once I got there, and enjoyed my evening. So I called Sheena back and told her to meet me down there later.

Once I walked in, I was surprised--the casino was packed, as expected, but so was the poker room! I asked the floorman if he was sure I wouldn't be needed, and again he said to enjoy myself and have a beer if I wanted.

Well, I sat down at a 4-8 game, but I could see how busy it was, so I didn't drink. And just as I expected, a couple of hours later, the graveyard shift floorman asked me if I could work. So I cashed out (down $13 dammit--had he asked five minutes earlier, I would've been up almost $40), ran home, got dressed, and came back in, working instead of playing.

But the games were good, and even though I was locked down all night, I made decent money. And I had a lot of fun too--we had a good group of players who chose to stay and play. Nobody was drunk or crazy and there were none of the usual graveyard shift shenanigans going on.

I finally got home around seven in the morning, but I was beat. Saturday kicked my ass. And I *know* I'm gonna get called in early again tonight. I'm fine with that, I'll certainly take the money, but an all-nighter shift is gonna definitely gonna make me want to sleep when I should be moving more stuff. Luckily, I've got all week to get it done.

Anyhow, that's the news from here. Oh, and I took a picture from my front door of my new place. Here's the view as I walk outside:


I'm wondering which one of my drunk friends will be the first one to trip over that rock as they head to and from the pool.

Mikey

Moving Day

Hey gang...

Sorry for the light blogging lately--I know people get used to having lots of stuff to read and when I don't deliver, well, all I can say is 'sorry'.

I've been kinda-sorta super-tired, that whole day-shift-in-the-middle-of-a-graveyard-schedule has really thrown my system for a loop. I'm tired, but I'm wide awake, but I know I have a big day ahead of me, and I *know* I'm gonna get called into work again tomorrow night. I need to sleep at some point.

Anyhow, Friday was fun, aside from a full day shift at work where I made about half what I make in five or six hours on graveyard. Once I got out of work, I drove over to the new apartment, hoping once again to see the actual unit I'll be living in, but once again I was denied. I about flipped my shiat right there in the leasing office, but before I did, it was all explained to me.

Apparently, the unit I'm moving into today got a complete Home Makeover Henderson Edition. I got all new appliances--new fridge, new stove, new washer and dryer. And I got all new blinds all around, too. But, they hadn't done the 'maintenance walk-thru' yet, so they weren't allowed to show it to me, dammit.

But I drove back to it to see how badly it would be roasting in the sun at 5:00 pm in the afternoon, and I'm happy to report that it is nicely shaded, as is my patio. And it's a real patio, too, not the phone booth Rob and I had over on Green Valley Parkway. Also, when they installed the new blinds, they left them wide open, so I could see in all of the windows. It looks nice--perfect for my needs. And pressing my face on the glass, I could smell fresh paint and such.

So, once I got home, I grabbed a few hundies out of my stash can and ran to the bank to get the cashier's check for the move-in expenses, and while I was changing out of my work clothes, Carmen called. We made plans to get together later in the evening for dinner, poker, and buffoonery.

I hauled ass down to the bank, got in just under the wire (Friday night of a long holiday weekend--good lord, what a zoo!), took care of my biz, and then headed off to the 'M'.

We had a long night of buffoonery, which I'll detail fully later this weekend, but I just got home a few minutes ago and need to get a few hours of sleep. The first truckload of stuff goes over at 11:00 am. I'm gonna try to get three loads over and then catch up on sleep--I've got a feeling that Saturday is gonna be a very long day for me, though.

Anyhow, that's all for now, but maybe you weekend re-clickers will have something to read on Sunday night. Certainly by Tuesday morning when you get back to work, that's for sure.

Mikey

Bloodbath!

You know how they say that some days you're the windshield and some days you're the bug? Well folks, last night, I was the bug. A big, steaming, runny bug, smashed on the windshield of the poker table...

Of course I wanted to ride my hot streak, so I headed down to the 'M' around 7:30. There was still a waiting list for the only 4-8 table when I got to the casino, so I cruised over to the Vig Deli to grab some dinner.

I had a $5 off coupon that was about to expire, so I didn't even have to spend five bucks for my grilled brat and macaroni salad. (Both were really good, but damn, service there is sloooooooow). I was just finishing up when Sammi came wandering by, but she was headed in the wrong direction. I told her that I hoped she wasn't getting sent home, but luckily it was a false alarm--she just got the first break, that's all.

When I got back to the poker room, a seat had finally opened up, so I bought a rack of white and took a seat.

The first 45 minutes were a complete train wreck, bloodbath, massacre, call it whatever you like. All I know is that I felt a lot like Ned Beatty in Deliverance. It was ugly. I kept getting dealt premium hands, and they all turned to shiat. After one particularly gruesome suck-out, I sent the following text message to a handful of my friends:

So far, AA, KK, AK, 88, 77 cracked. Been here 45 minutes, down $160+.

The responses I got were entertaining, however. Dougie told me to pull the ripcord and Eject Eject Eject!, CoolP told me not to worry, it'll even out eventually, and my gal Sheena just wrote back Where you at?

What made it even worse is that right after I sent that text message out, I got pocket fives, flopped a set, and lost another huge pot to pocket threes when the board ran out 6-5-Q-2-4. No amount of betting would push my opponent off her hand... It was awful.

I just couldn't get any big hands to hold up at all. In fact, one of my better pots came on a sick bluff. There was a guy in the hand who normally plays 2-5 No Limit every night, but there was no game, so he was playing in the minors with us last night instead. There were a lot of scare cards on the board, and he even had position on me, and when I check-raised him on the river with absolutely nothing, he folded and said something like Your Aces are good... I thought he was gonna come unglued when I showed the 6-5 offsuit.

That was about the only bright spot in the evening until Sammi came along. On the first hand of her down, she dealt me pocket Queens, I rivered a set and got a decent pot off of a guy who had nothing but a pair of Jacks. She also got me two more pots before she left, but by then the damage was done--I was too far in the hole, playing a shorthanded game, so my prospects of breaking even were almost nil. In fact, the game broke around 11 pm, so I took off, down $250 for the night.

I called back to my poker room to see if they had a game, and they did, so I headed back over there, hoping to make back some of my losses. A couple of the gals I play with were there too, so it was a fun table. However, I just couldn't get over the hump--my play was inconsistent and I went from being up $40 to being down $50 for several hours--back and forth all night long.

Sometime just after 4:00 am, I raised with Ace-Jack of diamonds, got five callers, somebody else built a huge pot, and I went runner-runner to get the nut flush on the river. Finally, the tables had turned! I was able to put a bad beat on somebody else instead of it happening to me. Whew. I raked a $150+ pot and ended up making back $110 of my losses from the 'M', so for the night, I was only down $140. That was a relief. And since I'd won so much the night before, it didn't sting as badly when I considered the big picture.

But that hand pretty much broke the table--I think we played one more orbit after that and then cashed out.

Now that I'm home, safely back in my crypt before the sun comes out, my plan is to sleep for a couple of hours and then get some more moving prep done. Last night, before I went out, I got a lot of little things done, nothing you can really see at first glance, but my desk and closet can feel the difference.

Tonight, I may go have a beer or two with my blogger gals, and maybe go back to the 'M' for a couple of hours, but it'll be an early night. I've got a day shift scheduled on Friday, so I can't stay up all night.

Mikey

Knocking The Rust Off My Mojo

It's good to be back... Both home and in the poker room. I hadn't played any cards in over a week. Hell, I think it might've been more like ten days. I think the last time I played it was over at the 'M' and I busted a couple of Russians and tilted the guy with all the neck tattoos. That was a pretty good night.

After working a couple of nights after that, then going to Phoenix for a few days, and then working a couple more nights, well, one can imagine that my game was quite rusty. I hadn't worked at my 'part time job' in far too long.

So I was looking forward to Tuesday night. My plan for the evening was to watch the latest episode of The Deadliest Catch, then make my way down to the 'M' for an evening of 4-8 poker. When I left the house at 7:30, I called down there to put my name on the waiting list, and the hostess told me that they didn't even have a game going at the time and that I was only the fifth person on the interest list. I figured that there would probably be a few stragglers coming in by the time I got there, so I still made my way southwest on St. Rose. Besides, game or no, it would've been nice to see Sammi, too.

By the time I got there, they were just getting ready to seat the players and start a game. I told the hostess that I was there, but the floorman missed the communication and gave somebody else my seat. Grrr... So I sat down with a magazine, content to be the second person on the new waiting list. About ten minutes later, I looked up and saw that I was suddenly now the fourth person on the waiting list. I went to the desk to find out why, but the hostess was nowhere to be found.

After getting jacked out of my seat at the beginning of the game, then somehow booted down the waiting list, I was kinda pissed off. To make matters worse, they only had four tables total going, so Sammi had the night off. Oh well, time to move on, I thought. But being a poker degenerate enthusiast, I have a whole mess of my favorite poker rooms on speed dial. So I started looking for a game. It was kinda strange though--it seemed that nobody had a 4-8 game going-- couldn't find one anywhere.

Eventually, I found a room a ways away that had two tables going, so I told them to put me on the list and that I'd be there in a half-hour. I was feeling no love at the 'M' last night, so I bailed.

When I got to the second casino, it didn't look good. Both 4-8 games looked kinda weak, and there was 7-handed 1-2 no limit game going, too. Before I bought in, I watched the no limit game for a bit, and I recognized a couple of the players--guys I'd beaten a few times in the past.

Hmmm...

So instead of playing 4-8, I got two stacks of red and a stack of white (that's $220 for you beginners out there) and sat down at the no-limit table. As soon as I sat down, the gal in the seat on my left said Mikey! What are you doing here?!?!?

I did a double take and started chuckling to myself--it was my friend 'Sheena', who I swear, I must play with two or three times a week over at my casino--and she usually plays 4-8 also. She was in disguise--I totally didn't recognize her when I first came in. Her hair is usually curly, but it was straightened, and she was wearing a ball cap down low over her eyes and had sunglasses too.

I asked her what she was doing, and she said that she was incognito because it was such a juicy game...

Juicy game huh? Then why do you only have $150 in front of you? Heh.

I think she slugged me after I said that.

I sat down and ground away about $50 in the first half hour, completely airballing every flop I played. But then I took a few down without a showdown and started building my stack. Two other guys had the bad sense to go all-in against me when I was holding monsters, and I broke them, which in turn broke the game.

Sheena was right, it was juicy, right up until the part where I mowed down the other players. There were only five of us left--not worth playing--so both Sheena and I got seats at a 4-8 table. Before I sat down, however, I went to the cashier and pocketed $260 in profit.

I spent the next four hours grinding away at the 4-8 game, not really winning any huge pots, but constantly building my stack. I did, however, lose a triple-digit pot on the river with pocket Kings against pocket sixes when the board ran out 8-K-5-4-7. That kinda sucked. And my iPod cost me an extra $24 on a kill-pot when I raised with the second-nut straight, thinking I was heads-up against one player, when I didn't hear or notice the guy behind me who raised the river with the stone-cold nuts. Ouch.

But other than those two miscues, I did pretty well, and was happy to pocket another $100 for my efforts before calling it a night around 1:30.

I was starving when I got out of there, having not had anything to eat all day. So I hit the Taco Bell drive-thru on the way home and was denied. That kinda sucked. I thought they were open all night for that whole 'fourth meal' thing, but they shut it down at 1 o'clock in the morning on weeknights. Vegas might be a 24-hour town, but Henderson, not so much. I really wanted some Mexican food, but Fausto's also closes early, and the nearest Roberto's is way down on Eastern and Horizon Ridge. Laziness trumped hunger, so I stopped at the 7-11 and got a Gatorade and some 'Garden Salsa' flavored Sun Chips. Meh...

Anyhow, I'm not quite tired enough to go to bed just yet, and I'd really love to start moving stuff down to the garage since it's not so damn hot outside. But my roommate is asleep downstairs and if I started hauling stuff around the house, it would drive the dogs nuts. So I guess I'll just watch some TV for awhile, go to bed in a few hours, and then later this afternoon get all of the non-essentials down to the garage.

Maybe tonight I'll give the 'M' another try. My poker mojo might be back, but I haven't flirted with Sammi in over a week.

Mikey

I Heard I Was In Town

Wow--What a great week it's been! Yep, I'm back from my little mini-vacation in Phoenix, and I'm ready to do it all over again. I had a blast.

I punched out of Vegas-land around twelve-thirty on Wednesday afternoon, pointed the truck south, and headed for the Dam. But there were some sort of shenanigans going on down there--traffic was completely stopped and there must've been about 20 different cars and SUVs with lights and sirens going, blocking traffic. I called Dougie to see if there was anything on the news, but he drew a blank. I was only delayed about ten minutes or so, but it sure was frustrating when all I wanted to do was get on the road.

Once I got across Hoover Dam and out of Black Canyon, I cranked up the music and put my foot down on the pedal. I was absolutely hauling ass across northwestern Arizona. I think my rate of travel was closer to the outside temperature than it was to the posted speed limit. I was making good time. Almost too good. Before I knew it, it was 4 pm and I was on the far side of Wickenburg, less than forty miles to Eddie W's house. I had told him I'd be there around six, so I was pretty far ahead of schedule.

I called him up, and before I lost the signal out there in the middle of nowhere, he said that he was already on his way home for the day and would probably get to the house about 20 minutes before I did.

Once I got off the Carefree Highway and close to his neighborhood, I dialed it down a bit, and also stopped at the nearest Circle K to fill up the tank on cheap-to-me gas, scrub the bugs off, and grab a bottle of water. But he was waiting for me when I pulled up in the driveway.

I unloaded my gear, dropped the bags in the living room, kicked off the shoes, and less than a minute later, I was sipping an ice cold draft beer from a frosty glass, courtesy of Ed's beer fridge. It was a nice way to kick off my visit to Phoenix.

We planned on having a mellow night, so we just kicked it in front of the big screen, watching the ballgame and having a few beers. Eddie's wife Michelle was kind enough to pick up some pizza and wings, and after dinner, we just hung out on the back patio smoking cigars and catching up until we were too tired to drink.

Thursday was the big day, and we had a lot planned. Eddie got up early and dropped the kid off at the in-laws, took Michelle to work, and gassed up the SUV before I got out of bed. Once I got up, showered, and got dressed, he was back, down in the kitchen making a pot of coffee.

Our 'breakfast of champions' consisted of leftover pizza and coffee with Bailey's. The only thing we had to do that day was go grocery shopping and then pick up Michelle at her office at 3:15--from there it was off to the Jimmy Buffett concert down at Desert Sky Pavilion. (Yeah, I know, it's now 'Cricket' Pavilion, but it was Desert Sky forever, and I can't shake the habit). Our plan was to just sit in the hot tub, smoke cigars, have a few beers, and spend the day relaxing before the show.

While sitting out in the pool, enjoying the Arizona sun, Missouri beer, and Dominican cigars, Eddie told me of the last thing Michelle said to him as he dropped her off at work.

I don't want you guys to be late picking me up because you're off getting lap dances at The Candy Store!

Hmmm... Well, honestly, that idea had never even entered our minds, but while sitting out there, we figured that if we had the grocery shopping done by noon, we could still get an hour in at The Candy Store before picking Michelle up from the office. Sounded like a good plan to us! Strip clubs here in Vegas are geared to tourists and way too overpriced, so I haven't gone to see the ladies since the last time Ed and I hit the Hi-Lighter back in the summer of '06.

It was shaping up to be an epic day.

Sometime after that decision was made, it was my turn to go fetch the next round of beers, so I hopped up out of the pool, did a cursory dry-off, and took the pint glasses back to the garage for a refill. Coming back out to the backyard, I forgot about the little half-step that separates the patio from the pool deck, and carrying two full beers, I didn't see it either. I completely tripped over it, doing a textbook face plant, going down in a painful heap.

Splat!

Being a pro, however, I sacrificed the body and managed to keep Ed's beer intact. Mine however, hit the deck and spilled everywhere. Luckily the glass didn't break, but man, I jacked up my knee--it was all skinned up and bloody. Eddie had the hose handy, and sprayed off both the deck and my knee, and a few minutes later, all was well--he got a replacement beer for me while I eased my now battered body into the hot-tub for some 'therapy' for another hour or so.

Since we had a plan for the day, we didn't linger too long. We finished our beers and changed into dry clothes, then headed out to the grocery store to get stuff for the concert that night and the BBQ on Saturday. When we got back to the house, we unloaded everything, then packed the coolers and loaded up the truck with stuff like blankets and lawn chairs, bottled water, etc. Once the chores were done, we both took showers and got dressed in our concert gear and were out the door by 1:15, figuring we'd get a good hour and ten minutes worth of lappies if we made it to the strip club by 2:00 pm. (Eddie lives a long way from everywhere. Except maybe Vegas--he's pretty close to my place...)

The first thing we did, of course, was put the old Music For The Rub & Tug CD on as we made the drive down towards civilization. That CD was one of the first ones I ever made as soon as I got a computer with a burner on it, and I made three copies--one for the two Eddies and another one for Derek. It's been a favorite for years, and it's the perfect warm-up for a trip to the 'ballet'.

Now, I hadn't been to The Candy Store in probably eight or nine years--it's in Eddie's old neighborhood in north Phoenix, and we both moved away over five years ago. Back at the time, dances were only five bucks and most of the girls that worked there had a lot of skank in the tank--the pickins were a bit slim, especially if you went there on a busy night. Just to give you an idea, I remember one gal in particular who had paw prints tattooed all the way across her body from her right knee to up over her left shoulder. And she was one of the 'hotter' ones.

So our expectations weren't very high for this visit, but we figured with only an hour to kill, what the hell, at the very minimum we'll get a good laugh or two, as our trips to the strip club are usually quite memorable.

Our prospects were looking up as soon as we got there, however. The same smoking nazis who took over California have moved east to Arizona, and you can no longer smoke indoors, even in a bar/strip club. So sitting outside on a concrete parking stop, smoking a cigarette and talking on a cell phone, was a barely-dressed blonde hottie. She gave us a smile as we passed by, and I told Eddie that no matter how skanky the lineup was, there was at least one chick I'd be willing to get a lappie from.

He agreed and we made our way inside. There was no cover on a Thursday afternoon at 2 pm, and aside from the one lonely Mexican guy nursing a Budweiser at the bar, we were the only patrons. We grabbed a couple of beers, found a couple of seats in the corner, and waited for the procession to come trolling by.

We didn't have to wait long, and I have to admit that we were both impressed by the lack of skankiness on display from the dozen or so gals working the room at the time. There were some very attractive ladies in there willing to get naked for ten bucks! Before long, we were both face-deep in fake boobs and stripper perfume. I however, having not been in so long, made a rookie mistake. I forgot to empty my pockets and the first girl to climb up on me and start grinding stepped right on my keys. Ouch!

It didn't take but a couple of songs before I found my favorite--an amazingly hot blonde with a perfect body and an Arizona tan named 'Rikki'.

So if your name is Rikki, how come you have the letter 'M' hanging from your necklace?

Anyhow, I kept her busy for pretty much the entire time we were there, while Eddie took the variety-is-the-spice-of-life route. Luckily we were under a time restraint, else this gal would've probably emptied my pockets. As it stood, she earned about a hundred bucks and I ended up with a bunch of glitter stuck to my head and most her perfume infused in my shirt. Good times!

Just as our time ran out, she had to do her shift on the main stage, so we left her a few singles and we headed for the door, glad the Eddie's wife put the idea in our heads. He married a good woman.

And we were actually about two minutes early picking her up, but she was already changed and waiting in the parking lot at her office when we got there. We stopped to get some sub sandwiches to go, then headed out on the 101 down towards Desert Sky, ready to get our tailgate on!

We made it to the arena about four hours before showtime, but the parking lot was already filling up with hard-core Parrot Heads. Of course, being a dumbass, I'd forgotten my camera (but at least I remembered the tickets!), so I was unable to capture any photos of the buffoonery going on all around us. But we found a good spot at the south end of the lot, next to a berm with plenty of shade, so that's where we set up camp.

My old roommate Tammie and her crew were on the way also, so we touched base and told her where to find us--they had a three-car caravan a few minutes behind us. So we set up the camp chairs and pulled the cooler out, and I got to work making margaritas in the cocktail shaker. While waiting for the others, we munched on our sandies and had a few cocktails.

Tammie and the gang showed up a bit later and found us, and we spent a few minutes setting up the pop-up shelter and BBQ grill, and passed around a few beers and such. We had a great time tailgating for a couple of hours--it was still about 101 degrees, which is just perfect for Phoenix, but we had some shade and a slight breeze, not to mention plenty of cold drinks on hand, so it was an ideal afternoon/evening for the concert.

Tammie was smart enough to bring her camera, so there were plenty of pictures taken. Here we go--this is Ed, Michelle, Tammie and me, deep into the tailgating experience:


Around seven pm, we packed up the party and moved it inside the venue. We all had general admission seats on the lawn, which, if you ask me, is the only way to enjoy a concert by Brother Jimmy--it's tough to initiate any buffoonery or make new friends in the reserved seats, so we *always* opt for the grass--that's where the real fans sit, anyways.

Here's a bunch of pictures we took once we got inside:




It didn't take long before I made a new friend--this is Megan, and we had a great time dancing and drinking together during the show.




This is Ken, Tammie's brother, and her Uncle Mike.


Of course, there are always opportunities for buffoonery out there in the lawn seats, so we captured a few of them on film.





Oh yeah, word around the campfire was that there was actually a concert going on, too...



A few more...




Of course, not everyone was having as much fun as we were...


Anyhow, it was a great show--Jimmy played all of his normal standards from the regular playlist, plus a couple that I'd never heard before (Surfin' in a Hurricane? I had no idea). My only gripe was that he chose to cover two Beatles songs, too. Hey man, it's not like the guy has about 40 albums worth of music to choose from--I don't need to hear Yellow Submarine... But that's just me--I'm just not much of a Beatles fan. The concert followed the usual outline--about an hour and fifteen minutes of music, a twenty minute intermission, and another hour-plus of music, and then a three song encore.

It was a fantastic show, as usual, and the tailgating and the outrageous costumes just added to it. I love going to Jimmy Buffett concerts and can't wait to do it again--it's always a great party. Oh, and afterwards, I got a laugh at Eddie's expense. Remember when I turfed it on his pool deck earlier in the day? Well, his drunk ass fell down the stairs on his way out of the concert, landing in a pile of semi-empty beer cups and other assorted shiat at the bottom. Heh. No harm no foul, but certainly a few laughs.

After the show finally ended, it was bottled water in the parking lot for another hour or so while we waited for the post-concert traffic to thin out. We finally made it home sometime after midnight and went straight to bed, stopping only long enough to unload the unconsumed booze from the back of the truck.

I felt kinda bad for Michelle, she had to get up early and go to work, but Eddie and I were under no such pressure. He had a couple of meetings to go to that afternoon, so he needed to go into the office, but we had a more leisurely start to our Friday.

I packed up my gear and prepared myself for the 60 mile drive down to Eddie B's house in Gilbert, and we both left the house around ten in the morning. Yep, it took almost a full hour to make it to the other end of town (Phoenix is a big city), but once I got down there I grabbed a cheeseburger and read one of my Bourdain books while Eddie B spent the last couple of market hours working in his home office.

Once he was free from the computer, we poured ourselves some ice cold Tecates and hopped in his pool. Luckily his pool deck is at the same level as the patio, so gravity couldn't reach up and smite me that time around. It was another 100-degree day, but the sun didn't seem so intense and the pool was the perfect temperature. I think we hung out there for almost two hours, and I got some more much-needed sun (I came home with a nice tan). His wife Regina got home from work eventually, and the plan for the evening was to join George and Marlisha for dinner over at their place.

So we got showered and changed, then headed up to their place, which is only about ten minutes away from Eddie's house. When we got there, the party was ON! They had the whole entertainment setup going.

Outside in the backyard, there was a full bar going on with all of our favorite booze on hand, plus plenty of cold beer on ice and several bottles of top-shelf wine. George was manning the industrial sized charcoal grill, and Marlisha had plenty of food ready to go. There was a dining table set up with candles, plus all of the outdoor 'mood' lights around the pool were going, and the misters were keeping everything cool. It was turning into another perfect night.

Their neighbors also showed up a few minutes later, so we had a full-on dinner party going. Besides our drinks, Marlisha had made some deviled eggs for an appetizer, along with some marinated shrimp, which George threw on the grill for a couple of minutes. She had also made a batch of super-spicy homemade cocktail sauce, and the shrimp were amazingly good. Sadly, I'm a dumbass, and forgot my camera again, so the only photo evidence of the meal was a single snapshot taken with my cellphone.


As much as we enjoyed the shrimp, it just got better from there. George had procured some fresh corn, de-silked it, but left it in the husks and soaked it in saltwater for a few hours. Then he threw it on the grill and roasted it. It was oh-my-god good! We also had potatoes, marinated in olive oil and rubbed with herbs, cut in half and grilled, too. Marlisha also made some of her famous home-made macaroni and cheese that has to be tasted to be believed. There was a caprese salad, made with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes and basil fresh from their garden that we all raved about, plus sauted mushrooms and a wine-reduction sauce. And oh yeah, there were also steaks on the grill.

Along with all that, we had a few bottles of good wine to go with it, and it was a fantastic meal all around. Everything was just amazingly good--words and pictures couldn't begin to do it justice. Good company, good food, and good wine--the trifecta of awesome. And it was another beautiful night outside, too.

We ate until we were stuffed, and sadly, nobody had room for dessert--we'd brought a chocolate cream cake, but they had all the makings for Bananas Foster on hand, too! Unfortunately, we just couldn't find the room for it, so we were content to sip cocktails and wine after dinner and spend several hours smoking cigars and enjoying each others company. It really was a perfect night and a perfect meal--we could've never had such a great time in a restaurant. George and Marlisha are awesome hosts, and of course offered to do it again if I would just come down and visit again, so I'm checking the calendar for this fall...

After a night and a meal like that, we all slept like babies once we finally made it home. I got a good eight hours of sleep in, but Eddie is used to getting up around five in the morning, so he was up and kicking around early. I showered and got dressed, and once I came downstairs, he and Regina started cooking some breakfast--we had eggs, bacon, seasoned potatoes, and something called 'aroz con leche', Spanish for rice with milk, which was actually pretty good for something I'd never heard of before. It's rice cooked in evaporated milk, with cinnamon and nutmeg and a few other things added. I guess it's a traditional Mexican dish that Regina grew up on. Eddie married himself a good cook and has been reaping the benefits--but it was a good breakfast all around.

Eventually, we had to make our way back up to Ed W's place for a BBQ. I was also gonna stay there again on Saturday night because it would cut sixty miles off of my drive back to Vegas. Unfortunately, it seemed like damn near all the roads out of the east valley were under construction, and it took me an hour and a half to make the drive. I swear to god, the Superstition Freeway is the biggest clusterf*ck on the planet. That damn freeway has been under construction for going on 30 years, and it's STILL not done yet. They had it down to just two lanes coming out of the east valley on Saturday, and it was completely gridlocked.

I remember ten years ago when I bought my condo. I told my realtor that I wanted to live in the east valley, but I worked at Squaw Peak, so I would only buy a place if I didn't have to use the Superstition Freeway for my commute. It took some looking, but we found a place that met that criteria. Most of the time freeway access is a good thing--not so in this case--it's a complete nightmare to drive on.

Anyhow, I eventually made it up to the far northwest end of town, unloaded all of my gear again, and set about doing some damage in the kitchen. Eddie and Michelle were providing all the stuff for burgers and such, but I brought along some beer brats. So I put five bottles of Shiner Bock in a big saucepan, cut up a couple of onions, and simmered the brats for awhile while we waited for everyone else to show up. George and Marlisha eventually showed up, and Eddie and Regina weren't far behind.

We munched on a veggie tray, chips and salsa, and wonderfully spicy wasabi peanuts, while emptying Eddie's keg fridge and watching the baseball game on the big screen. Eventually we threw the meat on the grill and had another great meal.

After dinner, it was more hot-tub and cigar time. That was a lot of fun. We stayed up until the wee hours drinking good Scotch and smoking Partagas Black Labels, and eventually Ed got drunk enough for another retelling of the legendary Blue Moon, midget stripper, and cheese sandwich story from waaaaay back in the day. I swear I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

But the weekend was coming to an end, and we had that happy combination of drunk/tired catching up to us. Eventually the party ended, everyone went home, and we called it night. I stumbled up the stairs and passed out, the activities of the previous three days having finally worn me out.

At 4:00 in the morning, my phone was ringing... Yep, it was work, seeing if I might be available. As much as I wanted a shift, well, I was a good six hours away, so I had to turn it down. I fell back asleep till around 8:30 or so, got up, showered, packed my gear, and loaded the truck. I said goodbye to Ed and Michelle, thanked them for their hospitality, and hit the road back to Vegas. I topped off the tank, checked my Powerball tickets (nope, didn't win the $150 million), bought a bottle of Gatorade, and plugged in the iPod. Just four hours later, I was pulling into my driveway, happy to be home, but looking forward to doing it again soon.

Once I got my luggage in the house, I spent the balance of my Sunday afternoon catching up on my sleep, knowing I'd be working late that night. I actually got called in early, which was nice, and had a pretty decent night.

Now I'm home and life is back to normal for a few days until the weekend. I get the keys to my new place on Saturday, so I've got a busy week ahead of me.

Mikey

Off The Road Again

I'm back, safe and sound, here in Vegas Henderson. It was a great time, and I'll have a full report, with lots of pics, sometime on Monday afternoon.

I'd do it tonight, but I need to get some sleep before heading off to work and doing an overnighter.

I had a lot of fun, but it's good to be home.

Mikey