Where the Wild Things Are

I had an amazing encounter last night after work. Actually, I had two amazing encounters that were really kinda cool.

First of all, after I watched the latest two hours of the WSOP coverage on Tuesday night (featuring one of the craziest knockouts I've ever seen), and the pilot episode of 'V', I headed off to bed, trying to get a catnap in before going into work at 1:00 am. But my phone rang at 10:30--the poker room was busier than usual, and they wanted me to come in early at 11:30, instead. I'm all for being busy at work, so I agreed to give up my sleep.

I was glad to see that the room was still hopping when I got there (weeknights can be especially tricky--it's sometimes like a domino effect, once a couple of people up from the table, sometimes all the other players follow and suddenly the game is broken). Of course, as soon as I sat down, all the table talk was about my big Quads jackpot over the weekend.

I didn't want to bring it up--I still have to make a living, and honestly, I can't blame a guy who's stuck a hundred bucks if he doesn't want to toss a buck out of a small pot to somebody who just hit a jackpot for over four grand. It was my first night back at work since my big score, and I was a little worried about how it would go. Would I make any tips at all?

Actually, it turns out that I had nothing to worry about. I've got a lot of friends who work in rooms down on the Strip, and they're struggling mightily right now. So I feel pretty lucky that in our room, even though it's not one of the bigger or more celebrated poker rooms in town, and I don't get as many hours as I'd like, it's still a very good place to work--our players generally take very good care of us. And I still had a decent night. Well, I was on pace for a very good night, but then it turned into one of those domino-theory nights, and I got out a little earlier than usual.

I didn't mind so much--I was still pretty tired, having been up all day and missing out on my evening pre-shift nap. And I was hungry too. After I punched out of the casino, I headed over to the grocery store to get something quick and easy to eat, and to grab a few essentials that I was running low on, also.

On the way home, I took the back way into my neighborhood, just because of the fewer stoplights to deal with. It's kind of like a service road that runs parallel to the freeway, and it cuts behind a couple of shopping centers and there's a big open chunk of undeveloped land on one side, too.

Anyhow, as I was getting near my turnoff, I saw what looked like a good-sized dog crossing the road a few dozen yards in front of me. As I got closer, I could see that it was a fairly large coyote. I've never seen that before--right here in the middle of Henderson, not a quarter mile from the freeway! I slowed down to get a better look, and the coyote stopped to size me up, also. I stopped in the middle of the road to watch him (there was no traffic--it was like 3:00 o'clock in the morning), and once he got off the road, he just kinda made his way over into some bushes on the side of the road. There was no place for him to go, since there was a huge 7-foot high noise barrier wall there, and on the other side was a subdivision full of tract homes. I was right there at the corner where I would normally turn left and go a couple of blocks to my apartment complex, but instead, I wanted to watch this coyote for a bit to see what he was gonna do.

So I just flipped a u-turn and pulled over a little closer to him, watching him walk along the base of the stucco wall. I just sat there for a few minutes, and he kept watching me, too. I found myself wishing I had a camera, because not only was it the first coyote I've seen out here, but it was a huge one--bigger than any I'd ever seen in Arizona. And it was in the middle of all this civilization, too!

Then the amazing thing happened. He stopped pacing along the wall, looked over his shoulder at me, and then suddenly he leaped up and landed on top of the wall--seven feet up, just like a cat! Then he stood there staring at me for a split second like Yeah, I'm a badass--Did you see that move? and then started strolling along the wall for about twenty or thirty feet before disappearing over the other side.

Wow. That was pretty cool. A normal domestic dog would've never been able to make that jump and then stick the landing like that. Satisfied that I'd seen all of the show, I put the truck back in gear and pulled away. Since I'd flipped a u-turn, I was heading the wrong direction, and the service road I was on was a divided four-lane road. So I had to go down about a quarter-mile or so to the next cut-out and make another u-turn to come back.

And just after I did, I saw another coyote crossing the road in the same place as the first one.

The second one was a bit smaller than the first one, and obviously the female. I pulled over to watch her, but there was no way she was gonna be able to make the same leap as her mate. I rolled down my window to listen if maybe the two of them were communicating, and yep, they were--a very low bark came from the other side of the wall.

The smaller female just took off and started trotting along the wall and turned left, going down the same street as I was heading. I didn't have my camera, but I grabbed my phone and tried to snap a picture of her with it--she was only about 10 feet away from the door of my truck and trotting down the sidewalk. It didn't turn out at all--no flash on that camera, and it was the middle of the night, so the picture was just pitch dark. But as soon as the wall ended at the entrance to the subdivision, she sprinted off into the darkness, reuniting with her companion. I could hear them 'talking' for just a second or two, but couldn't see them, so I rolled up my window and drove the last couple of blocks to my apartment.

It was a neat thing to see, and I wish I would've had my camera with me and gotten a picture of that big coyote walking along the top of the wall--that's something that doesn't happen every day.

Well, at least as far as I know.

Mikey

That's Not a Pendulum--It's a Wrecking Ball!

All good things must come to an end, and it appears that karma be damned, my hot streak is over. Well, I hope it's not over, but damn, I sure hit a big ol' speed bump last night.

Still basking in the afterglow of my huge win this past weekend, plus being on the Mother Of All Heaters anyways (not counting the jackpot money, I was still up almost a thousand bucks in the past ten days, just from playing 4/8), I decided to take the night off. I called the poker room yesterday and asked them if any of the other Extra Board dealers might want my Monday night shift--I'd be willing to give it up and let somebody else pick up an extra one. It took them all of about two minutes to find somebody who wanted it, so just that quickly, I didn't have to work last night.

I hung around the house, with the Monday Night Football game on the big TV and the World Series on the old one, thinking about ordering a pizza. That never happened--the grilled cheese and chicken soup pretty much held me over. But around halftime of the football game, I was getting a bit antsy.

Of course I headed back down to the poker room. On one hand, I wanted to let all the other players see that I'm willing to put some of my winnings back in the game, and secondly, I was still running white-hot, feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof.

I should've known on the first hand that my luck had changed for the worse. I was under the gun and got pocket Kings.

Woot--off to the races!

I raised, and got three callers. Of course an Ace came out on the flop. Being in early position, I checked, certain that at least one person had stayed in with Ace-rag. The player immediately after me fired out, and the other two players called. I folded my worthless cowboys, and watched in disbelief as on the showdown, all three players had Ace-rag and all three had caught their initial one-outer on the flop.

Wow. It was all downhill from there...

Nothing held up all night. I got rivered on two quick pots, and before I knew it, I was down fifty bucks. I never made it back above par for the rest of the night, either. I had ELEVEN pocket pairs that were tens or higher, and they got cracked all eleven times!

My favorite dealer, the one who gave me the quad fours on Saturday, hit me with pocket Queens on her first hand in the box. I raised and pushed the action all the way to the river on a raggedy board with no face cards, and the genius in the small blind who called a $5 raise cold with 7-4 offsuit went runner-runner for two pair. Ugly.

But that wasn't the worst of it. I got up to take a break for a few minutes after losing $150, and one of my buddies, who deals over at the MGM, slid over into my seat. I came back to the table about ten minutes later with another $60 buy-in and took the seat he vacated. I lost a few hands, again, and was down to about $28 left when I got pocket tens. I raised, my buddy in my old seat re-raised me, and everyone else dropped out. He said he had suited cards and was gonna offer me some protection. I re-raised, and we capped it at $14. I got trips on the flop, and was pretty confident about doubling up.

I ended up getting all my money in the pot before the turn, and felt confident because I was only up against a straight draw (we both turned our cards up, tournament style). Of course, my opponent was cool with it--he knew he'd need a miracle to win. The whole table was shocked that he went runner-runner and made a ROYAL FLUSH! Yep, not only did I get my entire stack into the pot when my opponent made a royal flush, but that was my seat a few minutes before, and we still had the same number of players in the game! So not only did he crush me, he got a $250 bonus, too. And everyone at the table took the opportunity to remind us of our seat swap.

All I could do was laugh. That was one of the worst beats I've ever taken, but it was so typical of the night I was having.

I bought in for another forty bucks, stubbornly, and the same thing happened again. I got all my money in the pot when I turned a flush, but the board paired on the river, giving my opponent a four of a kind!

I think my reaction was something along the lines of, Come on, man, at least leave me a few bucks so I can get me some Taco Bell fourth meal on the way home!, which made everyone laugh.

It was amazing. Yep, got all my chips in twice, once against a Royal Flush, another time against Quads. And both hands happened within about a half hour of each other. $250 was my loss limit for the night, so after that hand I called it quits, finally realizing that the poker gods were beating me over the head all night, telling me to leave.

Normally, I would've been pissed off to no end, but I can't really complain. I've had a great run, regardless of jackpot winnings. And taking a good-natured beating probably did a lot more good for me in the long run. A lot of folks witnessed it, and I'm sure it'll pay dividends down the road.

Usually, after a beating like that at the poker tables, I find it hard to sleep. My brain is firing, I'm ticked off, I keep thinking 'what if..', and it just keeps me up all night. Not this time. I was laughing it up like I truly didn't care. And once I got home, I slept like a rock until almost 10:30 this morning.

When I crawled out of bed, I called my boss to make sure I had Saturday night off (no problem at all), and then I hit the kitchen with a vengeance. Having not eaten anything since lunch yesterday, I was good and hungry, so I made my home-made chicken fried steak, some hash browns, and eggs. And the pan gravy was damn good, too. I was quite proud of myself, because it turned out much better than I expected (still not quite Peppermill good, but it'll do in a pinch).

I'm not gonna do too much today, just the usual housework and whatnot. And after last night's beatdown, there's no way I'm giving up tonight's shift. Life is back to normal now, and before long I'm sure I'll be clamoring for more hours and scrounging for extra shifts.

Still, it's been a good week.

Mikey

Sometimes High, Sometimes Low...

Seriously Mikey, Winger?

Sorry about that, folks. It's the best I could come up with on short notice. Maybe I'm just not feeling especially creative today. After those last two epic posts, my brain is worn out.

So let's see here... After I finished up this morning's work, I skipped out on the whole chicken-fried-steak thing. All that coffee kills the appetite, so I wasn't hungry enough to do the kitchen dance. Instead, I just got dressed and headed out to run my errands. First stop was at the bank, and it seems that I've landed on the same teller three times this week when making my deposit. The first thing she said to me was So how was your weekend, Mikey?

Damn good, as you can see from this $3000 deposit!

--You win all that at the casino?

I won it all playing poker...

I spared the details and just let her think I'm a tanned version of Greg Raymer...

After that, I made my way over to a local garage to get the truck fixed. I blew out my left brake light and rear blinker a few weeks ago and hadn't gotten around to doing the repair yet. I was fully prepared to pay about $200 to get it fixed, because the same thing happened with my Nissan truck about ten years ago and I had to replace a harness, a relay switch, and all the bulbs. It was not just a simple bulb-change back then, so I brought a book and my Mastercard, fully believing that I'd be there for several hours.

But I've got to give a shout out to the dudes at Gil's Automotive on W. Sunset. They are awesome, customer-service wise. Not only did they look at my truck immediately, but they pulled the taillight, tested the bulbs and connections, and replaced the bulb all less than five minutes. Done! And when I went to pay, the manager said Don't worry about it, it's on us!

Seriously, he wouldn't even let me pay for the bulb. Unbelievable. So I took his card and told him that I'd most definitely be coming back next time I needed any repair. I couldn't believe it--that whole encounter completely made my day. Hell, tomorrow I may go down there first thing in the morning and bring coffee and donuts for his whole crew. So if any of you local readers need your car worked on, now you know where to go.

After that, I headed over to one of my favorite stores, Lee's Discount Liquors. Initially, my purpose was to get my ticket for the Lee's Wine Experience this weekend, as last year was such an epic adventure, there was no way I was missing it ever again. Lars, on the other hand, won't be joining me this time around. I think he's still paying for the sins of last November. But instead of just buying a ticket, I decided to pick up a few bottles of the good stuff. First of all, I got three bottles of my favorite wines--a Landskroon chiraz from South Africa (makes that Yellowtail shiat taste like paint thinner and red dye #5), a bottle of Louis Jadot Pouilly-Fuisse, and a J Lohr Merlot. I also picked up a good bottle of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, as I love the stuff from Oregon. Additionally, I got a bottle of Grand Marnier and a couple of brandy snifters, so I can smoke cigars like a gentleman. Plus I had to get a bottle of rum, and this time it was some Grande Reserve Plantation Rum, from Barbados.

That was enough, and with the ticket to the wine fest, I spent almost two hundred bucks. I could've easily gone crazy in there, but as you all know, I'm all about moderation...

Still not done with my shopping, I bought some new clothes, too. Four hundred bucks worth. And believe it or not, I didn't buy a single Hawaiian shirt. After all that, I stopped at Costco and filled up my tank. No, I didn't go inside.

Once all that damage was done, I came back home and did some more. I paid a couple of months worth of truck payments in advance, so I don't have to hear from the jackals at my finance company again until 2010. I also logged on to the cruise line website and sent them a few hundred more towards next year's vacation. Then I booked a room at the Hilton for this Saturday night, as I know that I'll be in absolutely no shape to drive anywhere after the Wine Experience, and I don't want to depend on the kindness of strangers, like last year.

I'm keeping about a thousand in the coffee can, just because, and I'm also thinking of playing in one of the Venetian Deep Stack tournaments next week (that's like $350, and it offers me the best shot of parlaying my recent good fortune). The rest of the money is on its way to E*Trade, and now I'm back to square one, hoping that the next three days of work are busy and lucrative. I might hit up Walmart for a truckload of household supplies, but then that's it--my stimulating the economy is over for awhile.

For now, I'm gonna enjoy my grilled cheese sandie and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, followed by a relaxing afternoon of ESPN.

Ciao for now...

Mikey

Table 7, Seat 3 and the Monday Morning Poker Recap

Well, I returned to the scene of the crime last night, and it went pretty well. Not four grand well, but still, worth my while to get outta the house. But for the first couple of hours I was there, I was thinking, Man, I should've just stayed home and gone to bed.

After I'd hit the big jackpot on Saturday night, I sent out a text message to about forty or fifty friends, sharing the good news. Well, the problem with that is that a majority of those folks live in other time zones, so it was the middle of the night when they got it. I got home around 2:00 am my time, too hyped up to sleep, but finally dozed off around 7:00 am or so. But that's about the time other folks were getting up and starting to stir, checking their cell phones and such. So starting then, and going all day, my phone was chirping at me, letting me know that messages where coming in.

I tried to answer a few of them, but eventually I just gave up. And I didn't get much sleep either. I was trying to stay up and watch the football games and the Nascar race, but between the phone going off and the volume jump on the commercials, all I got was a few minutes of cat-napping here and there.

Eventually, as tired as I was, I gave up on trying to sleep, too. I zombied around the apartment all afternoon, wishing I could sleep, but knowing that I couldn't. I figured a hot shower would do me some good, so I did that and got dressed, figuring that maybe my luck was still good. Aside from the river-suckouts and being 'stuck' for most of the night on Saturday, I've been running *really* hot at the poker tables lately. I don't think I've had a losing session in the past three weeks (maybe once, but I don't track 'em on paper anymore), so I thought I'd go out and heed the timeless advice of Crash Davis and do what I could to respect the streak.

Those of you who know me best know that I tend to play in the same places--I spend a majority of my time in the poker rooms at Sunset Station, Joker's Wild, and the M Resort, while hitting places like Green Valley Ranch, Silverton, and South Point occasionally to change up the mojo. It seems that everyone who lives within spitting distance of the south spur of the 215 plays the same 'circuit', so I see a lot of the same faces every time I'm out and about. And now that I live less than a good solid 7-iron away from the freeway, I find myself down at Binion's and the Nugget more and more, too. (Hell, even though the M is technically in Henderson, I'm actually closer to the downtown casinos, if you can believe that).

Anyhow, last evening I decided to go back over to one of my favorite rooms and play for a couple of hours. It's actually one of the hardest rooms to play in, but it's great practice. Everyone always complains about 'donkeys' at limit games, but I'll be the first to admit that the locals in the big Stations rooms are tricky, and better players than most people think--Boulder, Sunset, Red Rock, and GVR are tough places to win, but after a few sessions there, going down to the Mirage or MGM and playing with the tourists is like taking leftover Halloween candy from a baby. The off-strip local joints are some great rooms to pay your dues in, if only because the players there have a thousand times more experience than the typical tourist down on the Strip, so it's like Hold 'Em boot camp. If you can beat those games, you can absolutely mow down the tourist rooms.

So I returned to the scene of the crime, as it were, and bought in for a hundred bucks. And what did I see as soon as I got there? Why, an open seat at table number seven--and it was seat three, the exact lucky spot I had the night before. Of course I grabbed it when given the choice of tables to go to.

By then, eighteen hours after the fact, word of my big win had spread like wildfire, and everyone who wasn't there the night before came over to pat me on the back and offer up some congratulations. And all of my new tablemates wanted to hear the details of the hit, so I happily retold the story of exactly how things went down. Everybody hates bad beat stories, but man, do they ever love to hear about the big wins!

On the other hand, I was getting nothing but 'trouble cards' with the first couple of dealers--you know, stuff like suited connectors, suited Kings, Aces with six-through-nines, smaller pocket pairs, and 10-Jack--hands you always want to play, but no good if you miss the flop. And I kept missing the flop completely--I'd limp in or raise pre-flop, then the board would run out blanks for me, and somebody else would come out firing. My cards would then immediately go in the muck. This pattern kept up for far too long, and after the first hour or so, I was down almost fifty bucks, having never seen the turn.

But I was still having fun, basking in the aftermath of my big hit the night before. New players would shuffle in and out, and people kept talking about it. So even though I wasn't earning at my usual rate, and even had to re-buy for another forty bucks, I was still having a good time.

Eventually I found myself at the inevitable crossroads of Mad Skillz and Good Cards, and started making my way back. I treaded water at even par for about an hour, but then I started my run. I ran a sick sick sick bluff on a guy who I'd beaten like a drum at the M earlier in the week--he was telling everyone how I 'sucked out' to beat him (a few nights before, I flopped trips, turned a full house that gave him the, ahem, 'nut' flush, and he kept betting into me and went broke), so I knew that he was on a vendetta. I'd forgotten about it completely, but he just kept talking about it and wouldn't let it go.

On one hand awhile later, I just knew he had pocket Jacks in early position. It couldn't have been more obvious to me even if he was playing them face-up. He raised, knocking out everyone else, but I was on the button with King-Ten offsuit, so I called. The heads-up flop was all low cards, but two of them were spades. He bet out, and I did the Hollywood hesitation for a second, made a show of looking at my hole-cards again, and then gave a 'reluctant' call. Absolutely certain that he had pocket Jacks, and guessing that they were probably red, I was hoping for the ultimate scare card on the turn--the Ace or King of spades.

Luck was with me, as the prettiest card in the deck--the Ace of spades--hit the board on the turn. Now the key to being a good bluffer is not to watch the cards as they come out, but instead you should watch your opponent watch the cards as they come out. I could tell he hated that Ace, but he had to represent strength and so he bet out.

Textbook.

I gave him a thoughtful look, pausing for a moment like I was thinking "Hmm... Should I just call here and go for the raise on the river, or should I just raise now?". I gave an Academy-award performance of making the Aw, screw it, let's just win this pot right now face, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

He gave me a dirty look and said You're the luckiest son-of-a-bitch I've ever seen!, and mucked his two red Jacks face up. Just as the dealer started to push the pot to me, I showed my non-spaded King-Ten bluff. I had no pair and no draw, and the look on his face right then was even more satisfying than the few bucks that came from winning the pot. I normally wouldn't have shown it, but he'd been talking shiat about me ever since he sat down, and when he called me an SOB, I figured he needed a little Life Lesson. I didn't want to say anything to antagonize the guy, but he got the message. He looked like he was ready to come unglued, and a few other players at the table chuckled. I winked at the dealer and tipped him half of my profit from the pot.

Besides that guy, who really had it in for me, it was a fun, enjoyable table with nice people and a good vibe, so I figured I'd eventually do well.

I still had my A-game, and raked a really nice pot when I raised from early position with Ace-Jack of diamonds, got seven callers, and the flop came out Jack-Jack-Three. I gave an exasperated check, and everyone else did, also. A Queen came on the turn, so I bet out, hoping everyone would put me on a steal, like I was over-playing an Ace-King or something. I got one caller.

The river was a harmless four, so I bet out again. This time, my opponent raised. Hmmm... I couldn't really put him on a Jack-Four, maybe Queen-Jack, but he didn't play like he had it on the turn, and pocket Queens would've re-raised pre-flop. Maybe pocket fours? I doubt he would've stayed that long. So I took a shot and re-raised, and he just called. I knew I was good then. I showed Jack-Ace, and for whatever reason, he showed Queen-Four. First of all, I don't know why he called a pre-flop raise with that junk, and the three pair on the river did him absolutely no good. Unless he had me something like pocket tens or worse, he should've known his hand was burnt toast. But I guess he really *did* think I was gambling with Ace-King.

But the hand of the night came a few minutes later. It was a kill pot, again, so the limits were raised. I was on the button with Eight-Ten of clubs. I decided to gamble on the off chance I might hit a flop with a hand nobody could put me on. Besides, there were like six callers in front of me, so I was definitely getting the right price to play.

The flop hit me directly between the eyes--Seven of Clubs, Nine of Clubs, red King. The small blind, directly on my left, was first to act. She bet out, got one caller, and everyone folded to me. I was definitely in, and had position plus the stone-cold nuts draw, so I raised it to $12. The small blind just called, but the other player folded, so we were heads-up on the turn.

Bingo on the turn card--Jack of Clubs. I had a monster of an unbeatable hand--a straight flush that couldn't be beat, no matter what card came on the river. My opponent was first to act, so she bet out twelve bucks. Obviously she had a big flush, and since she'd bet out on the flop, I figured she had Ace-King of clubs. If my read was right, there was no need to raise just then. We could go to war on the river with uncapped betting, and if I was wrong and she had three of a kind, a paired board would only make it better for me, as most players would gladly die under the flag of a full house.

The river was the Deuce of clubs, kind of crappy for me, I thought. Four clubs on the board--if she had trips, I'd get no action. She bet out, so I then knew for certain she had the Ace-high flush. Immediately I was hoping that instead of Ace-King of clubs, she had Ace-Queen and that she was putting me on the King-high flush instead.

Turns out, that's exactly what happened. I raised it to $24, and she immediately re-raised me back. I did the Hollywood hesitation move once again, and from across the table, the guy I'd bluffed earlier smirked and said Ha! That idiot thinks his King-high flush is good! I gave him a piercing look and said Dude, come on, you're not even in the hand, you shouldn't be calling my cards...

The dealer looked his way and shushed him, and again, my opponent re-raised me. I played the clueless act to the hilt and said out loud, Maybe she's the one with the King-high flush, as I re-raised. She popped me again and immediately I said Then again, maybe not, which gave the whole table a chuckle.

I re-raised her again, and she turned her head towards me and gave a look that said Really, are you that dense???

She then just called and said I don't know why you're being so stubborn Mikey, I've got the nuts! and turned over the Ace-Queen of Clubs. Mr. Vendetta across the table started laughing like it was the greatest thing he'd ever seen, certain that I'd just donked off almost my entire stack. My opponent missed her royal flush draw, but still had what she thought was the biggest hand.

I just shrugged and said, Sorry, but I actually have a straight flush, as I turned over my cards.

Amazingly, nobody at the table saw it coming--there was nothing but disbelief all around. Dead silence. Hell, it seemed like nobody even saw that it was possible. It was like everyone was locked onto the King-high versus Ace-high flush and completely missed seeing the straight flush. My opponent took it well, just saying Wow, you got me on that one... She sat there staring at the table in stunned silence after that, obviously disappointed, probably mad at herself for missing the monster hand lurking in the weeds. Mr. Vendetta, on the other hand, looked like he was about to have a stroke. For whatever reason, he was carrying a grudge from earlier in the week at the M, and his fondest wish was to see me go broke. He sat there muttering for a good twenty minutes after that.

The dealer said something like Dang Mikey, that really is your lucky seat! Not only did I hit the big jackpot sitting in that exact same seat the night before, but I'd just picked up a straight flush and won a monster pot with it. And then the dealer reminded me that I was sitting in that same seat back in April when he dealt me a high-hand jackpot for like $400 with a different straight flush. I'd forgotten about that one. Maybe I should talk to the people in charge at the casino and see if I can't buy that spot and have a plaque attached there that says 'Reserved For Mikey B', like they do in the sportsbook. I'm sure that'd go over well. Heh.

The game didn't last too much longer after that. I went card dead and folded everything for the next half hour or so. And once we got shorthanded, the players started looking to see how many seats were open at other tables. I had a couple of racks of profit stacked in front of me, so I decided to call it a night. I was yawning every couple of minutes anyways, and was still pretty tired. So I cashed out and headed for home, glad that Bull Durham was such a major influence on my poker philosophy.

I was dead on my feet when I got back here to the Batch Pad (there's the name I was looking for!), so I went straight to bed. I think it was around 10:30 at that point, and I slept like a rock for eight hours straight.

It was nice to get that much sleep, and I woke up this morning feeling like a million bucks! I've gone through an entire pot of coffee as I wrote this recap, but once I hit the 'submit' button, I'm gonna motivate myself back into the kitchen and cook up some scratch-made chicken fried steak and then head down to the bank. I've got a big ol' stack of hundies to deposit.

Mikey

Take Me Down to the Jackpot City...

Where the money's green and the cards are pretty!

Hey, y'all wanna see what $4,444 looks like, in Benjis and twenties? Well here ya go!


Actually, that's only about $3600 and change--there were a few expenses before I got home...

So I guess I've got to put this Halloween in the books as the best one ever! Lemme offer up the details...

Like I mentioned before, I had no plans for Halloween this year. I wasn't gonna dress up, I had no party to go to, and pretty much all my friends were working. When you work in the casino biz, all the weekends and holidays belong to The Man. This was the first Halloween I've had off since I got here almost five years ago, so I was kind of at a loss for something to do. I had a last-minute invite to go down to the Palms with a couple of my gals, but since I had no costume planned, I begged off. That, and I didn't want to pay $14 a pop for drinks all night, either.

Anyhow, so instead of prowling the Strip, or even going to Carnaval Court, I fell back on old reliable and just wandered on down to one of the local poker rooms. Since it was the last day of the month, all of the rooms that I frequent were winding down their good October promotions--flopped four-of-a-kinds and made straight flushes were paying off all month, but I never caught a single 'high hand' in all the hours I've put in at the tables over the past several weeks. But I wanted to give it one more try.

The M Resort was giving away a thousand dollars for any flopped four-of-a-kind, and Green Valley Ranch and Sunset Station had a Card of the Day promotion that if you flopped four-of-a-kind of that number, you won that money in thousands. Four nines got you $9,999, four sevens would get you $7,777, etc. The card of the day at Sunset was pocket fours, and it was my understanding that nobody had flopped the quads of the day for the entire month--it happened a few times at GVR, but never at Sunset.

My buddy AC went to GVR for the night to take his shot, but I ended up at Sunset Station. My plan was to play a few hours there, and if I broke even or was up a few bucks, I'd cash out and head over to the M. I have been damn near unbeatable there this month, and besides that, my gal Sammi works over there, and everyone knows I'm hot for her stuff.

There was a pretty good waiting list going when I got to the casino around seven o'clock, so they opened up a new game almost immediately after I got there. I thought it was great table--after a couple orbits, I could see that there were a couple of calling stations who would play any two cards almost every hand. My Pavlovian mouth-watering kicked in and I told myself that I was about to get paid!

Of course, that was the plan. But sometimes, the Poker Gods laugh at my plans, and strike me down with a seemingly never-ending series of bad beats and impossible draws. I think I was stuck about fifty bucks within the first half hour. There was one guy at the table I just couldn't beat. He didn't seem to be a very good player; he kept turning over junk cards, but man, he was just getting run over by the deck--he hit everything! And several times it happened at my expense. It got to be a frustrating night, and I found it damn near impossible to duplicate my success of the previous night. Card of the day be damned, I just couldn't make any hand hold up, and every pocket pair seemed to get cracked.

After a couple of hours, I was actually stuck $160 and fading fast. Going over to the M was out of the question, as I was so frustrated that I was bound and determined to make my money back at that same table, no matter how long it took. I know, bad move, but I probably wasn't thinking rationally at the time.

At ten o'clock, one of my favorite dealers in all of Las Vegas came to my table, and I told her that I was counting on her to get me unstuck (I'd made a furious comeback by then, but was still down about sixty bucks). She laughed and said she'd try.

About fifteen minutes into her 'down', it was a kill pot, meaning that somebody had won two hands in a row, and instead of playing 4/8, we were now playing 6/12 until that particular player lost a pot. I was on the button, and looked down to see two black fours staring back up at me.

Woot! I had a chance to win a monster jackpot. Fours were the card of the day, and if I flopped quads with 'em, I'd win $4,444.00. Oh hell yeah! Of course, I didn't really count on it, because I've been playing poker pretty regularly for almost ten years now, and I think I've flopped quads maybe three times in the last decade. Besides, I heard somewhere that flopping quads is like a 93,000-to-one longshot.

Three players in front of me called to see a flop, so I limped in for $3, fully aware that the minimum $10 was in the pot (most houses have a rule that there has to be ten bucks worth of called bets in any pot to win a high-hand jackpot). While the dealer gathered up all the bets into the middle of the table, I turned my head away and looked down at the floor, telling myself Just once--it's now or never.

I didn't see the flop get spread, but I heard the dealer say Well, I hope somebody's got it!

I looked up and I about satcheled my wares when I saw the most beautiful flop ever: a six with two red fours on either side of it--I just flopped four fours!!!

Holy shiat! It took me a second to let the realization set in that I'd just won over four grand...

Besides, there was still a hand to be played out. My three opponents all checked to me, and of course I checked it. Hell, I wanted somebody to make a hand. The competitive poker player in me wanted to get paid off! And if I were fortunate enough to actually get beaten by a bigger four of a kind or a straight flush, then I'd get another four grand or so as a share of the in-house bad beat jackpot, too! That was too much to hope for, so I really didn't give it a second thought.

I consciously made an effort to keep my hands from shaking and to keep my voice from cracking as a blank hit the turn and all three of my opponents checked to me. I checked again--free card for everyone!

The jack of diamonds came on the river, and again, all three of my opponents checked. I grabbed a stack of twelve chips and slowly made a bet, saying to the dealer, I really like that river card, so I'm gonna go ahead and bet twelve. (pause) And oh by the way, you should probably call the floorman over here and tell him to bring his clipboard!

The look on her face was priceless, as she realized what I was telling her. Immediately, everyone else at the table stood up and I flipped over my cards, revealing the four of a kind.

Instantly, it was absolute pandemonium at my table. Everyone in our game jumped up and cheered and I let out a nice loud OH HELL YEAH!!!

Of course, all action at the other five tables stopped and everyone stood up to see if we'd hit a bad beat or something, and then the high fives started coming. All of my table mates were excited for me, and of course the dealer had a huge ol' grin on her face! Immediately, my phone started going off as people at other tables were texting me with congratulations. I was shaking like a leaf at that point. I just couldn't believe I won such a monster jackpot! Talk about lucky--the whole promotion was ending at midnight, less than two hours later, and I squeezed out a winner just under the wire!

Over the course of the next several minutes, almost half the people in the room came over and offered me congrats and told me they were happy for me. It felt awesome. I was still pretty shaky, and it took me several tries to get my fingers to work well enough to send out a global text message with the news to all of my friends.

The floorman came over with the paperwork for me to fill out, and again, I could hardly write down my information because my hands were still shaking. Eventually I calmed down, but the excitement didn't leave the room for some time. A few minutes later, the floorman came over with a whole bunch of chips for me--One rack of green ($2500), three racks of red ($1500), and then the last $444 was in black, green, red, and white. The dealer counted it all down in the middle of the table, and before she pushed it over to me, I told her to keep the $444 for herself. I think that made her day.

I then gave the floorman a few hundred bucks and told him to split it up between himself and the rest of the dealers who were on the clock at the time. Hey, when I win, everybody wins! Good karma and all that! That put everyone in a good mood, and it was nice to be able to share my good fortune. I swear, for a few minutes there I felt like Andy Dufresne the day they got the beer up on the roof of the old license plate factory.

I thought about cashing out and going home, but damn, it was barely 11:00 o'clock by that time. Besides, I'd had a few drinks, and I didn't want to drive anyways. It wouldn't be responsible, and there were about a hundred cops out on all the roads within five miles of the casino. I did, however, cash out my jackpot winnings and put all the hundies in my wallet. I think I tipped the waitress $25 for a bottle of water a few minutes later, and then I just kinda half-assed my way through the game for about an hour with the $150 or so in white chips I still had in front of me. It was tough to play, as my phone kept going off and everyone kept coming over to talk to me. Besides, I wanted to donk off a few chips to my tablemates, just for the sake of goodwill. I built a few pots, raising with nothing, and then folding, letting other folks take down a nice pot or two.

I ended up just sitting around for a couple of hours, and then decided to call it a night. I said goodnight to everyone, dropped all my extra chips into the graveyard floorman's bucket (he wasn't there when I hit my quads), and headed back here to the batch-pad. As tired as I am, and as much yawning as I've done, I just can't get to sleep--I'm too keyed up!

I'm sure I'll eventually collapse, with a satisfied smile on my face, but not just yet. As far as the money is concerned, what am I gonna do with it? Well, I still have that cruise to pay for, and next month's bills are gonna be here before I know it, so that'll take a big chunk of it. I'm gonna send a few hundies into my E*Trade account, and maybe buy some new clothes and a bunch of household supplies that I normally hate spending money on. But I'm probably just gonna save the rest. It's always feast or famine in my world, and I certainly remember the lean months, so I shouldn't do anything too frivolous. However, I've been thinking about a new Canon DSLR, so I might end up getting myself an early Christmas present.

Anyhow, that's how my Halloween went. Not too bad for a guy with no costume and no plans. But I guess you don't need any when you've got pocket fours!

Mikey

That Thing I Do

So the 'blustery' weather is now gone, and it's a perfect autumn day here in America's Playground. Last night, I got home around 2:30 in the morning, and there was definitely a chill in the air, and a bunch of my neighbors, the ones lucky enough to have fireplaces, had been using them. Who doesn't love the smell of wood smoke on a crisp autumn night? I have to admit, I'm pretty jealous about not having a fireplace. I miss my old in condo in Phoenix that had one--I used it almost every night from October to February, and right now the weather is perfect for it. Hell, I even miss the firepit back at Reuben's house.

Somehow, I'll muddle through without one.

After yesterday's epic post, I had quite the productive day, although, I still haven't put together the dining room table and headboard. I know, it's been over two weeks, but I just didn't get around to it yesterday. I don't know what I'm waiting for. Hell, one of my favorite gals even said she'd be willing to come over and 'make sure it works' as soon as I get the damn thing put together. Tell me again why I haven't done it??? On the other hand, I got so many household chores accomplished on Friday that by the time I finished up, I rewarded my efforts by taking the rest of the afternoon off.

I was pretty bored by about six o'clock that night, so I showered up, put on some good clothes, and headed down to Sunset Station to play a little poker. Their four-of-a-kind promotion goes every day, and the $200 for a straight flush promo ends soon, so I wanted to go down there and take a shot at getting a big hand. It never happened for me, but in the three hours I was there, I made $135 in profit at the 4/8 game. Not too bad. As the night wore on, a bunch of folks left the game at once, leaving it shorthanded, and when we drew for seats at the other tables, I lowcarded everyone, so I was last on the waiting list.

Instead of waiting around for a seat to open up, I decided to cash out and hit the road. It was still fairly early, so I drove over to the M Resort. That place has been my little honey-hole lately, as I've been consistently pulling a hundred bucks or more out of that room every session this past month. Besides that, my fave dealer Sammi was working last night, and that always makes for a good time.

It was a grind at first, but I was playing amazingly well. Seriously, I wish I would've been able to video tape my performance, just so I can watch it when I'm running bad and feeling discouraged. I was a machine! I took some horrendous beats though--Aces cracked three times, Ace-Queen losing to Ace-Jack twice, flopped sets losing to rivered inside straights. You name it, I suffered it! But I was still playing my A-game, and never really dropped below par. It's just tough to get ahead when you take a couple of bad beats.

While I was there, I met another gal named Amy who sat down next to me at the table. We hit it off immediately and it made the entire night that much more enjoyable. Even though I had my A-game going with the cards, I somehow managed not to get her number. That was a rookie mistake, because she's new in town and we had a lot of fun, even making plans to play together again soon. Oh well, I know where to find her, and she knows where to find me, so I'm sure I'll eventually be adding her to my own personal Playtone Galaxy of Stars.

She took a few bad beats, too, losing with pocket Queens twice and pocket Aces once in the span of about 15 minutes. Eventually, the law of averages evened out, and my big hands started holding up, and I got paid off on a couple of nut flushes and full boats. I ended up calling it a night at 2:00 am, giving my 'breakage' to Sammi and cashing out for another $165 profit, giving me a $300 win for the night. That's pretty damn good for a 4-8 limit game, where there's always some jackass staying to the river. But like Dell Paxton said, you gotta keep on playin', no matter with who...

Anyhow, I was completely wiped out when I came home--I'd done an eight-hour shift as a player, and it wears you down. I play a lotta cards, obviously, but I have no idea how those people in the World Series do it for 12+ hours a day, especially with so much money on the line. The pressure has got to be incredible.

But once I got home and crawled into bed, I offered up a silent prayer to the Flying Spaghetti Monster that the poker room wouldn't call. Yeah, I'd love to pick up a shift, and yeah, I'd jump on one if they called, but I was just so damn tired and my brain was completely fried by then. Luckily, my phone remained silent and I got a good solid six hours of sleep.

Today, I've got no plans. This is the first time since I've been in Vegas that I haven't had to work on Halloween, and I'm completely at a loss as to what to do. I have a bucket of candy handy just in case some kids come by the apartment, but after that, who knows? All of my friends are working, and I haven't given a single thought to any kind of costume or even going out. My guess is that I'll end up back in the poker room, trying to score another hundred bucks, and giving away all my leftover candy to the players.

I suppose I could put that damn headboard and dining room table together, just so you guys can stop hearing about it...

Mikey

It's Been A Week?

Wow. Sorry about the long absence from the keyboard, but I've been a very busy dude all week long. And last night, during dinner, I was thinking to myself "When was the last time I posted anything on my website?", and I seriously couldn't come up with the answer. Obviously, it's been far too long.

I don't know why, but it seems like these last couple of weeks have just been a whirlwind. I feel like I haven't had a moment's peace. Not that anything bad or crazy is going on in my life, it's just that I've had so much to do, along with some very long nights at work thrown into the mix. And I'm just now finally starting to get over being sick (two weeks exactly--right on schedule!), so after getting almost a full nine hours of sleep last night, I'm starting to feel normal again. And there is absolutely nothing on the agenda today. I don't have to go anywhere, I don't have to see anyone, I don't have any errands to run that must be done anytime soon. I'm going to enjoy my coffee and kick it here at the batch-pad all day.

And the pot of hot coffee is especially welcome today. It's been downright chilly here in Vegas for a few days, and windy, of course, so I've had to shut all the windows and doors, turn off the fans, and later today I'm putting the flannel sheets back on the bed. It's totally against my code to turn on the heat, living in the desert like I do, so I find myself doing silly things like the other day when I baked a frozen pizza for lunch, I just left the oven door open when I was finished so that the residual heat would warm up the apartment a little bit. And lighting lots of candles helps, too.

Hell, right now, it's just 42 degrees outside, so a sweatshirt, wool socks, and a pot of coffee feel like necessities this morning.

So, what have I been doing all week? Well, besides work, I mean. I've had some doozy nights in the poker room lately, all of which have worn my ass out. Luckily, the money has been pretty good. Oh, and I'm back to my winning ways on the other side of the poker table, too, having booked some very nice wins these past couple of weeks.

On Tuesday night, I had the pleasure of attending Linda Lou's release party for her newly-published book Bastard Husband: A Love Story. It was an amazing success. She sat for almost an hour, signing books like she was some kind of big-time celebrity, and there was a very nice turnout. The first hour, it was more like a cocktail party for all of us attendees, while she was up at the front of the room, sitting at the table signing book after book and meeting all of her adoring fans. I was very proud of her and had a big ol' grin on my face all night long. It's awesome to see those closest to you enjoying some success from from the fruits of their labor.

After about an hour, everyone picked up their drinks and moved from the bar/lounge area, into the showroom. Linda and I ducked in the service entrance and made our way backstage. We chatted for a few minutes while we waited for everyone to take their seats. Then I went out on stage and spoke for a couple of minutes, warming up the crowd and doing Linda's introduction. I had prepared a small script that I'd practiced all day, and of course I forgot my first and best joke as soon as I hit the stage. Still, it went pretty well for me, and I didn't fumble around, get the flop sweats, or say anything embarrassing.



Before I knew it, I was introducing Linda to the crowd, and she got a huge round of applause as she took the microphone. I scurried back behind the curtain and discreetly made my way to the back of the showroom while she started her gig.

She spent the better part of an hour reading excerpts from the book and tossing in a few anecdotes here and there to flavor it up. Lots of laughs, a little bit of poignancy, but overall a wonderful experience for everybody. I got a picture or two from the evening, so here they are:




I wish I would've gotten some crowd shots, because the pictures here don't do it justice. It was a pretty good-sized showroom, and it was almost completely filled up. Lots of folks showed up, and like I said, the release was a huge success. I hope she makes a million bucks and winds up on Oprah's couch someday soon.

Afterward, we all shuffled back out to the lounge for more cocktailing and a bit of meet-and-greet. I met lots of nice folks, but eventually I called it a night. I said goodnight to Linda and a couple other friends, and headed back out into the blustery Vegas night.

I had to work that night, but I still had a couple of hours to kill. It wasn't really worth going home and trying to catch a catnap, so instead I drove over to the M Resort for some poker. My gal Sam wasn't working, which was a bummer, but on Tuesdays this month they have a promotion where you get a thousand bucks if you flop four-of-a-kind. Hell, in all the years I've been playing, I've made four-of-a-kind dozens of times, but only flopped it maybe three or four times, total. It's tough to do. But I wanted to take a shot.

Unfortunately, it didn't happen for me, but on the the other hand, I had a seat at a table populated by some of the worst poker players I've ever encountered, and that includes all the Friday nights at the Mirage and MGM Grand during the peak of tourist season. Seriously, it was an amazing display of poker incompetence. Yep, I got run down with brilliant hands like 3-7 offsuit or 10-3, but I just knew that patience was the key. Those clowns might've caught a few big pots by staying to the river with junk, but then again, I knew they'd eventually pay me off when I had the stone-cold nuts. It's a law of nature every bit as reliable as gravity. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait very long, and raked some huge pots when holding the nut flush or a monster full house. And since I had to work later that night, time was against my opponents--I wasn't gonna be around for them to suck out against me. After just two hours, I racked up a $275 win, quite a feat at a 4-8 limit game.

I was out the door and in a great mood when I got to work a half-hour later.

Like I mentioned before, work has worn me out this week--it takes a special kind of patience to do the graveyard shift with all the internet heroes and obnoxious drunks that sometimes find their way into the game, but overall, it was a pretty good week. But man, I sure was glad it was over yesterday morning when I finally hit the parking lot.

I spent a good chunk of yesterday spending money. First of all, after AC and I pulled the ripcord from the poker room, we motored over to the Valle Verde 'casino' for breakfast. It gets scare quotes because it is truly a dump. There's a camera on the door and you have to get buzzed in, like in the old days when the mob ran illegal speakeasies. And it used to be called Thirstbusters Casino. Yep, it's attached to a Circle K, I shiat you not!

Our intention was to make our parlays and teasers for the weekend, because even though it's a hole-in-the-wall joint, the little sports book booth in the corner is a Cal-Neva outfit out of Reno, and the payoffs are the best you can find in Vegas. With no more Stardust around to set the pace, most of the books in this town offer less-than-stellar odds on their sucker bets, so this dive bar has the best prices we've found. (Actually, I would've never known about it, but an old-skool degenerate gambler gave me the heads-up a few weeks ago).

Anyhow, we got there early in the morning, just after seven, and we found out that the book didn't even open until nine. And the rack with all of their odds sheets and parlay cards was damn near empty--nothing at all showing the college lines. So that was a bust. On the other hand, there is a little coffee shop in there, and it had a huge chalkboard on the wall listing a ton of daily specials, so we always wanted to try the place--we go out to breakfast a couple of times a week after work, and this place was on the list to try.

Again, it turned out to be kind of a bust. No action available from the sports book, and the as far as breakfast was concerned, our 'waiter' was also the cook. It didn't stop us, though, because we were starving. We had biscuits and gravy, pork chops, chicken fried steak, hash browns, eggs, toast, coffee, and juice. It was just ok, definitely not worth making a trip for, and we certainly weren't gonna linger around for two hours waiting for the lone ticket writer so show up at the 'book' and then restock all of the paperwork. On the other hand, it was a cheap and filling meal, so I guess the whole experience was a wash.

After breakfast, I came back to the house for awhile to kill time until the bank opened. I needed to get down there and make a deposit, as I hadn't been in over a week, and I was carrying around way too much cash for my own good. I had a week's worth of tips plus several winning poker sessions worth of Benjamins in my wallet, and I get a little nervous when the coffee can gets too full (Not that it happens with any kind of regularity).

Once that little chore was done, I hit the drug store to replenish my stash of medicine. Two weeks of the flu pretty much emptied the cupboard, and even though living in this germ-fest of a city has toughened up my immune system considerably, I still get sick twice a year, just like clockwork. After the drugs were purchased, I went over to the 'Gentlemen of Stature' shop and spent a few bucks on some new clothes. I got a pair of jeans, since the weather is cold, and I don't feel like digging through the storage totes out in the closet to look for my old Levi's (seriously, I don't think I've worn jeans in almost two years), plus I picked up a very cool Cubavera paneled camp shirt. It was a little overpriced, but I've had my eye on it for some time. I bagged up a couple other essentials and headed home, my wallet a hundred and fifty bucks lighter.

Not satisfied with all the economy-stimulating I'd done up to that point, I logged onto the cruise line website and sent them another couple hundred bucks towards my trip next year. Have I mentioned that I'm going on a cruise? And that I cannot WAIT for it to happen? Have I? It's still a long way off, but that was just another early step in my journey of several thousand miles. After that, I said "No mas!" and I put my wallet up out of reach for the rest of the day.

I was tired, but I stayed up and watched the latest WSOP episodes I'd recorded on Tuesday night. This has been a very enjoyable World Series of Poker to watch--I'm finding that I'm much more engaged in this one than those in the past couple of years. Maybe it's because it's a likeable bunch of people that have gone deep this time, and no complete jerkoffs that ESPN loves to shine the spotlight on and celebrate.

Around 3:30 in the afternoon, I had to throw in the towel and take a nap. I'd been up for almost 24 hours straight at that point, and I was beat. I set my alarm for 5:30 and fell asleep immediately. But I couldn't just stay in bed all night, as much as I wanted to. One of my readers, Paul, from SoCal, was in town and wanted me to join him for dinner down at The Range, located on the second floor of the Death Star, smack dab in the middle of downtown Evil Empire.

We'd gone there before, and it was good, but for some reason, it didn't blow my skirt up at the time. I'm not sure why. But Paul is a great dinner companion, and his gambling stories blow mine out of the water. I should seriously have him do some guest blogging here and let him talk about some of his experiences. He'll be the first to admit that he's got that awesome combination of bankroll and crazy that makes for some unbelievable scenes at the tables.

Anyhow, the dinner tab was courtesy of the Gouger-in-Chief, Gary Loveman, CEO of the Evil Empire, so Paul's philosophy was to take full advantage of their hospitality since we had the chance, because they are starting to tighten the purse-strings as far as comps go. No problem, at all. I'm all about sticking it to The Man! Especially when The Man has been sticking it to everyone else for so long.

We started our meal with some really good French onion soup, served in a huge hollowed-out onion. It was damn tasty, and thicker than most of the traditional broth-based versions served around town. And our bread basket was great, too--there were some bacon-cheese rolls that were a huge hit, so good that we got refills on that.

For dinner, I had the grilled 20 oz. bone-in ribeye with a loaded baked potato (both of which were damn near the size of my head). Paul had the Kobe short rib. He also ordered a big plate of King Crab legs, which were just over-the-top amazingly good, a dish of creamed spinach, and another dish of sauteed mushrooms. Oh yes, we dined like royalty. Not the royalty with genteel manners and state-dinner protocol, more like Henry VIII on a bender... I also had a nice glass of Pinot with my meal.

There was no way we could eat it all, although we gave it the ol' college effort (although, I'm pretty sure we annihilated the crab legs). The food was great, as was the conversation. I was ready to call it quits when they finally cleared the table, but Paul insisted that we get dessert. Ok, twist my arm...

He went with the creme brulee, while I had some sort of 'Volcano Crunch' dish. It was a huge mound of Heath Bar ice-cream (about the size of a coconut), completely encased in Nestle crunch. There was a hole at the top, and they took a big dish of chocolate sauce, added a healthy shot of Bacardi 151, lit the whole thing on fire, and then drizzled it down onto plate. It was an attention-getter, and every gal in the place seemed to come over to the table to comment or ask about it. Apparently, chicks dig the Volcano Crunch, in addition to the long ball.

Once they got done pouring the flaming chocolate sauce, the waitress set it down in front of me, while it sat there bubbling and flaming for a few more minutes. Luckily I had my camera phone handy: (notice the blue flames!)


Even though I didn't have much of an appetite by that time, I still took a stab at it with my Spoon of Destruction. Oh hell yeah, it was damn good. Paul helped me out a little bit, and by the time we got done, there was not much left but a small puddle of rum-flavored chocolate sauce left on the plate.

By then, we were completely stuffed. It was loosen-the-belt and don't-bother-me-I'm-in-a-food-coma time. I have no idea what the dinner check was, it was all comped, but I know it wasn't a cheap meal by any stretch of the imagination. Whatever the cost, it was a fine time all around--good food, good wine, good company.

I was beat, having had not much sleep at all, and Paul was itching to get to the blackjack tables. So we said our goodbyes, and he headed for the pit while I made my way to the valet. On the way home, I *briefly* considered another poker session, but I was just way too tired. I drove straight home, stayed awake as long as I could, and then crashed, hard.

Around 3:00 am, the poker room was calling, seeing if maybe I wanted to pick up a few hours and a little extra cash. They were getting to the point where they had more games than dealers, and might need me an hour later. I told them that if they got in a bind, I'd certainly come down, but I'd rather sleep. And there was another one of my co-workers heading off on vacation early next week and would jump at the chance to earn a couple extra bucks, so I'd offer the shift to him. So the floorman said if he still needed me, he'd call me back in a half hour. Luckily, the phone didn't ring again, and I slept all the way through until seven this morning.

Since I got so much rest, I'm feeling pretty good today. I've already scrubbed the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, and did a couple of loads of laundry. And since I've got no place I have to go, and nothing demanding my time, I may just get that damn headboard and dining room table put together today.

But first, breakfast time. I still have some bacon in the fridge, and if I have to keep the windows and doors closed because it's cold outside, I may as well make the apartment smell good. I have no stripper perfume handy, so the scent of frying bacon will have to do...

Mikey

A Five-Letter Word For Happiness

Surprisingly, I'm not talking about 'boobs'.

It's bacon. Is there anything it can't do? It appears that we are in the Golden Age of Bacon, and I'm ok with that. From the bacon-infused vodka to Baconnaise, everything tastes better with bacon. And if I could find a gal willing to wear the bacon bikini like in the picture here, well, breakfast in bed would be simply awesome all around. I don't care if the sheets get all greasy.

Speaking of Baconnaise, however, I'm less than impressed. Maybe it's because I had such high hopes that I was destined to be let down. I dunno, but having used it twice so far, I doubt I'll be buying it again. It's not that it's bad, it just didn't blow my skirt up. I expected fireworks, and all I got was a damp sparkler. I dunno, mayonnaise and bacon sounded like a winning combination in theory, but it just didn't deliver the goods in practice. From now on, when I make a turka and Swiss, I'll stick with just adding mayonnaise and bacon separately, letting each stand on it's own merits instead of incorporating their bastard child. Besides, $4.50 a jar? Please. I can take a huge jar of Miracle Whip, crumble up a pound of fresh-cooked Farmland bacon and have twice as much fresh-made 'Baconnaise' for the same price, which I'm sure would taste better, anyways. I dunno, maybe if they didn't worry about being kosher, vegan, and dolphin-safe, they'd have a winning product. But right now, it doesn't live up to the hype.

But I'm not here to condemn Baconnaise. I still have a mostly-full jar and I plan on using it all, eventually. I'm here to brag about the tasty breakfast I had this morning. Having not eaten a thing since about 1:00 o'clock yesterday afternoon, I was good and hungry this morning. So I started off with a pot of hazelnut coffee. And I used the peppermint mocha creamer, which is damn tasty. A couple of mugs of that certainly took the edge of my hunger, but not for long.

So back to the kitchen I went. I cooked up a few strips of that excellent Farmland bacon, made some O'Brien potatoes, two scrambled eggs (with a splash of milk and a drop of pure vanilla--yum!), and I rounded out the whole meal with some wheat toast topped with real butter and strawberry preserves. Out of coffee by then, I had a glass of fresh orange juice.

It was better than any late-night meal in any casino coffee shop. Granted, there were no bloody marys in sight, and no keno runner stopping by every few minutes, but still, it was a damn fine way to kick off a Monday morning.

Now that breakfast is over, if I could just stay motivated, I'd get my headboard and dining room table finally put together. Yep, they've been sitting in boxes leaning up against the counter in the dining room--I haven't touched 'em in a week. But I have an excuse--I was sick all week and just didn't feel like hassling with either one of them. I started to feel much better this past weekend, but I wasn't home very much, and when I was, I was sleeping. So perhaps they'll get done today. But then again, maybe they won't. I'm under no deadline here.

On the poker front, I had another wildly successful Friday night, and making it even better, I ran into that gal I had a little crush on this past summer, 'Sam', the blondie with the pierced tongue and the kookie hair. I hadn't seen her in months, but I was playing in one of the local rooms that night and she came in after the U2 concert. We had ourselves quite a reunion right there in the poker room and that was it for my poker game. Luckily I was up over $200 at the time... I ended up seeing her again on Saturday night, so yeah, it was a great weekend. I hope to be able to spend some quality time with her again soon, but our schedules are completely out of sync. We have one day off in common every two weeks. We'll see what happens...

Other than that, there ain't a whole lot going on around here today. I've got a shiatload of projects to do, but I'm finding it hard to stay motivated. I guess I should just buckle down and do it. I'd like to have this apartment in perfect order at some point, and that ain't gonna happen with all those huge shipping boxes stacked up in the dining room.

Mikey

Another Day Closer, Still Excited

Oh good lord, I'm gonna be a basket case by the time next fall rolls around. The whole fam-damily is excited about this trip, and I'm afraid it's going to be the longest year ever, followed by the shortest week ever...

I guess the reason for that is because I know what to expect. I've been on four or five cruises now, and each one has been spectacular--not because of the ship, or the destinations, or because of the awesomeness of leaving the real world behind for a week (although, they all play a part), but there's more. Consider the great times I've had with all of my best friends and T2V buffoons as we 'do' Vegas a couple times a year. As great as that is, it's not even a drop in the bucket compared to the fun I have when my siblings and I get together for a week on the high seas.

Seriously, there is nothing I'd rather do than hit the Caribbean for a week with the family. Given the choice to do just about anything, or take a cruise with the fam for a week, and the Sibling Revelry Cruise wins out every time. The reason for this is simple--back in the year 2000 (seems odd to say that, no?), we'd never done a cruise before. Hell, we kids (as we call ourselves) hadn't even been together in the same room but once in the previous ten years or so, and I hadn't spent time with any of my sisters in almost four years before that.

But Cyndi, the original gentlewoman of leisure, wanted to go on a cruise and got the ball rolling the first time. She made it sound so enticing, and once four of us agreed to go, (Sherry, Cyndi, Mikey, and Amy--Reverend Dave and Nancy were unable to join us), it was on! What made it even better was that it ended up costing us just about $375 apiece, for the entire week, since they had cabins that would hold four people (we didn't know any better at the time).

We didn't book it so far out in advance back then--maybe in June or so for a September sailing--and having never gone before, we weren't sure what to expect. Oh yeah, we were excited to go on vacation together, because 1) it was a vacation, and 2) we'd never done anything like this in our adult lives. The last time all of us were together for any length of time, we were all still living under the same roof, our parents were still married, and we were much too young to appreciate each other.

So anyhow, Cyndi booked the thing, we all sent her the money, and that was that. I guess the real excitement didn't start to build until we got our cruise documents and luggage tags in the mail. We talked it up a bit, but nothing like we do now. It was more of a "Hey--I'm looking forward to seeing you guys" type of brief conversation and that was it. I guess we just didn't know what we were in for.

Finally, September rolled around and it was time to go. I flew out of Phoenix on the red-eye flight to Atlanta, met Amy at the airport, and we were off to Miami. Sherry and Cyndi were flying together out of Nashville, and the plan was to meet them at the baggage claim in the Miami airport, since our flights were scheduled to land within 20 minutes of each other.

I'll never forget that flight to Miami--I mentioned it before, but the old lady in our row that was talking up how much fun a cruise was--Oh, you'll have such a good time. They have bingo, and shuffleboard, and square dancing!--she damn near ruined it for us. But Amy and I still laugh about that to this day. We found many more fun things to do other than the activities geared towards the nursing home gang.

Anyhow, we found Sherry and Cyndi at the airport, just like we planned, and the four of us found a crazy Russian cab driver willing to haul all of us and our mountain of luggage to the cruise ship terminal. (Seriously, I think Sherry brought 18 pairs of shoes for a seven-day cruise).

Being cruise-ship rookies, we didn't know what to expect, and shuffled through the cattle-call of the boarding process just like everyone else. We got our Sail & Sign cards done, did the check-in thing, and had our pictures taken for the first of what seemed like a thousand times that week.

Once we got embarked, the first order of business was to find our cabin and ditch the carry-on luggage. That's when reality set in. We had a tiny interior cabin at the very aft end of the ship, just above the screws. No big deal, we didn't mind--we were just glad to be there. But the room was tiny--about the size of my last bedroom, and it had two bunkbeds in it, with about two-and-a-half feet of space between them. Sherry and I claimed the lower bunks, Cyndi and Amy got the uppers. Since they had to use a couple of ladders to get up into them, Cyndi called hers 'the treehouse', and so Amy then decided to call her bunk 'the penthouse'.

What a week we had. We were on the Carnival Paradise, and at the time, it was a pretty new ship and completely non-smoking. Our itinerary took us to the Bahamas, San Juan Puerto Rico, and St. Thomas.

Of course, we made the usual rookie mistakes--bringing way too many clothes first and foremost. I mentioned Sherry's 18 pairs of shoes, but I'd brought two pairs of jeans with me, and they never came out of the suitcase. It was t-shirt, flip-flops, and swim trunks during the day, then a Hawaiian shirt and Dockers at dinner. Other than that, I wore nothing else except my James Bond tuxedo a couple of times for the two formal nights.

We also went crazy on the umbrella drinks. Back then, I was making a pretty damn good living, so my vacation budget was basically unlimited. I remember that the cruise went from Sunday to Sunday, and on Thursday night when they shoved your first Sail-and-Sign statement under the door, my bar bill was already over $700 for the week. But then again, I pretty much had a drink in my hand constantly, plus I bought a couple of bottles of wine in the dining room, not to mention a couple of times on sea-days I'd just buy a bucket of beer and go around making friends. But hey, it's like the Vegas Chamber of Commerce says--You can't put a price on a good time!

Besides boozing it up and getting the most out of our time at sea, we got very lucky with our dinner companions that week. There were the four of us, and we were seated at a table with six other strangers. But we hit it off immediately, and had a blast with them all week. Lucky for me, there was a rather attractive single gal as part of the group, and we naturally kinda gravitated towards each other and had a great week together, even keeping in touch for a long time afterwards (and thanks to the miracle of Facebook, we just reconnected last week!).

But the best part of the entire cruise was the time spent in our tiny, dark, overcrowded cabin. I swear, I laughed my ass off for the entire trip. I'm a goofball anyways, and Amy is even funnier than I am. Plus, when you add Sherry and Cyndi in the mix, it's just nonstop comedy. Every afternoon, we'd all gather back in the stateroom and have room service deliver some lunch or just a tray of cookies and brownies and a few cartons of milk. And we'd sit in there shooting the shiat, telling stories, joking around, and just basically making memories all afternoon. Those afternoons spent together really were the highlight of the trip, and it planted the seed that has kept us doing it almost every year since then.

Oh, don't get me wrong--we loved the islands. Blue Lagoon in the Bahamas was about the most awesome place I'd ever been, and my head almost exploded just trying to process the unreal blue color of the water. Sailing and snorkeling in St. Thomas was the best shore excursion we ever did--nothing since then has been able to top it. And spending the afternoon getting tattoos in the back of a sketchy record shop in San Juan by a guy who didn't speak a word of English was a bonding experience that most families can't brag about... But even so, just hanging out and laughing together each day was the best part of the whole experience. To this day, whenever we get together, we still tell those same stories and jokes from that week and we all still laugh about it.

The price has gone up a bit in the past nine years. Back then, I had to cough up about $400 to leave the dock. This time around, I'm paying almost four times that amount. But it doesn't matter what the cost of the cruise is. They can charge whatever they want, because the food, the scenery, the balcony, and all the umbrella drinks are just ambiance. The best part of our cruises are the memories we've made together, and nobody can put a price on that.


Mikey

I'm About To Lose Control

... and I think I like it!

I guess I should apologize for my lack of posts this week, but well, it's a free service, and sometimes you get what you pay for.

Anyhow--yes, I'm still sick, but I'm almost out of the woods. I was just telling Linda Lou a few minutes ago that I'm about 80% returned to normal. I can still feel that I'm sick, but most of the symptoms are completely under control. Luckily, living on oranges, soup, and about 14 hours of sleep per day has been good for me.

Work, of course, has kicked my ass, but my ass probably needed a good kicking, anyways. I feel ok while I'm there, but man, when I hit that parking lot at the end of the night, I am one tuckered out little trooper. Last night seemed especially long, but I had enough strength to go out and have a proper Vegas-style ham steak-and-eggs breakfast afterward.

But as tired and still sick as I am, I'm in a damn fine mood right now. The past couple of weeks I was seriously bummed out. I *really* wanted to go on that cruise with my sisters--hell, I was the one who planned the whole damn thing. But I chose to get a new place and get it all furnished instead, so I just didn't have the funds available to go. And that really harshed my mellow, especially on the day they all left. I didn't want that to happen again, so while they were gone, I started looking at cruises for next fall, a year away.

I found a couple of good ones, with itineraries that I hadn't done before, and put together a long email to the siblings asking them what they thought. There was one cruise in particular everyone seemed to like, but since they'd just gotten home from one, it was a little too early to be talking about the next one. Nobody really seemed that interested. I just happened to bring it up in another email this past weekend, while sitting at home doing nothing, and Sherry emailed back saying that her and her hubby weren't gonna agree to go on one until I actually booked one, since I always seem to plan them, but never seem to go (it's been five years since my last cruise).

I let that simmer in my mind for a couple of days, and on Tuesday, I said Farkit--I'm going. I never take vacation anymore, and time off is one thing that generally ain't a problem at work. So I got on the computer and booked myself onto a cruise next fall. I know--it's still almost a year away, but a brotha needs something to look forward to, otherwise, life is just a grind.

As soon as the confirmation email came back, I forwarded it to all my siblings, saying "Take THAT, non-believers!"

Not only did I make a reservation, but I booked myself into an upgraded balcony stateroom, too. I figured it was time to do it in style--no more putting four people in an inside cabin on a lower deck just to save money. I've got a primo location and a primo room, and I don't have to sleep in a twin bed, either!

If that wasn't enough to get me excited, check this out. The next morning, I got an email from Scottie and Amy--they booked right away. And this morning while I was at work, I got a call from Cyndi--her and Tim also booked. And then, about two hours ago, Reverend Dave called, asking for all the particulars, and he's also booked!

But that's just the tip of the buffoonery iceberg... Check this out--We all have cabins right next to each other--four in a row! Unbelievable. I guess it pays to book early, huh? I almost feel sorry for our neighbors, because that's gonna be one crazy section of hallway.

So, since all the booking has been done, it has created an avalanche of emails and my inbox has blown up. We're still waiting on Sherry and Steve, though, but I'm sure the peer pressure will get the job done. Oh, and as a bonus, a couple of our cousins from Cali may be joining us, too.

I. Cannot. Wait.

It will be an off-the-hook good time. My only question is, is it possible to remain this excited for an entire year?


Mikey

Not Just Cough Medicine

After lying on the couch all weekend, and actually calling in sick to work last night, I finally had enough. I'd run out of cough drops, I had no cough medicine, and all I had left to treat myself with was a bit of Zycam and can of Chunky chicken noodle soup.

So around 1:00 o'clock in the morning, I shuffled my sorry ass out to the truck and headed to the nearest 24-hour grocery store. My objective was to pick up a bottle of Delsym (haven't found anything that works nearly as well for killing a cough), and a pack of Hall's. Even though it has only been three days, I am SICK of being sick.

First things first, I got my medicine. And since my throat has worn itself raw from all of the coughing, I was craving some ice cream. But late Sunday night is not the time to go grocery shopping, as all of the weekend consumers have pretty much cleared out the joint--the new stock hadn't reached the shelves yet, so I felt like I was in one of them old cold war-era stores in the Soviet Union. There was no Breyer's to be found. I guess it didn't help that it was up over 90 degrees this weekend here in Vegas, but all the good ice cream was gone. I had to settle for some off-brand shiat.

And I went to get some oranges, too, but the produce section had also been annihilated. It took a few minutes, but I finally found four decent ones to take with me. Wandering back to get another carton of juice, I saw that the holiday varieties of coffee creamer were now available, so I crabbed a big bottle of the Peppermint Mocha. I love that stuff, but it's only available a couple of months out of the year. After that, my shopping excursion was pretty much over. However, I took a stroll down the condiment aisle, working off of a tip I got from Dougie the other day. While there, I spotted another must-have item. Behold:




Oh hell yeah. I can't wait to fix myself a turka-and-swiss sandie later this afternoon. Thankfully this bug I got hasn't affected my sinuses or taste-buds, so I'm good to go once I feel hungry again.

Mikey

The Trifecta of Awesome

As much as I was looking forward to all of the great college football yesterday, I was sorely disappointed. Seriously--that Oklahoma/Texas game was downright painful to watch. And didn't it seem to draw out for like 4-plus hours? I thought it would never end.

All I learned from watching that game, is that if Texas is the third best team in the country, there are some *really* shiatty teams out there. I watched a lot of football yesterday, and the only legitimate Heisman candidate I saw was that dude from Alabama who ran for like 240 yards against South Carolina--even when they were direct-snapping the ball to him and the defense knew he was gonna run it, they couldn't stop him. Simply awesome. The rest of them? Not so much. Texas stunk up the joint, and Colt McCoy looked like JaMarcus Russell playing against, well, pretty much anybody. How they ever managed to win, your guess is as good as mine. USC almost gave the game away to Notre Dame on several occasions, and Florida barely escaped with a win against Arkansas. Just a day full of crappy play all around from teams that should've blown out their opponents.

On the other hand, something happened yesterday that I don't think I've ever witnessed in my lifetime, and it gave me the giggles for hours. The three teams I love to hate--Notre Dame, Ohio State, and Nebraska--all lost outright. Oh hell yeah! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it.

It may have been a crummy day to watch the big boys play, but seeing the wannabes get smacked made it all worthwhile. How awesome would it be if it happened again next week?

BTW, it looks like the National Champ is coming out of God's Own Conference once again this year. (Roll Tide!)


Mikey

Getting Worse

Man, I feel like total shiat. My cough had gone nuclear for a few hours, I've got a slight fever, and yet I still feel slightly chilled, too. Luckily I don't have the nausea or the body aches (well, except for those muscles that instantly contract whenever I cough), yet, and so far I've avoided that whole run-over-by-a-truck feeling. (And I don't need a bucket, either).

However, like Brigid mentioned in the comments, I think this will be a quick bout--hopefully it'll only really kick my ass for about three days. As bad as my cough was earlier, it's not as severe tonight as it was earlier in the day, and my lungs are starting to feel like they only have crumbs in them instead of the whole damn cookie like they did most of the day.

But I'm far from out of the woods. I've got a long way to go before I feel like I can leave the house and do anything productive again. At least I've got the sense god gave a coconut and am staying home tonight, instead of going down to the poker room and spreading my germs around, like some people...

Am I bitter? Hell yeah I am! If I would've just stayed home on Thursday night and plowed through all the junk on my DVR, I'd have an extra $150 in my wallet and I wouldn't be spending the day trying to hack up my lungs. In fact, I feel so crappy that I called up Eddie W and begged off of going down to the Rio for some old-skool Vegas-style buffoonery with one of my Original Gangsters. Instead, I'm sitting in front of the computer wearing some old sweats and trying to slurp down a still-too-hot cup of instant noodles. It sucks to be me right now.

And as tired as I was last night, I never got any sleep at all--I stayed up all morning cleaning the house, watching TV, and farting around on the computer until AC showed up to watch the Dodger game. It was a fun afternoon--I took enough drugs to temper most of my symptoms, and we chilled out drinking Sam Adams Octoberfest and eating a damn good pie from Villa Pizza (their wings--only so-so). After the first game, we hung out on the patio smoking cigars and drinking cocktails made with premium booze and Mexican Coke. He went with the Crown Royal, I had Appleton's.

Once we came back inside, I made it until the fifth inning of the Angels game before I passed out--I'd been up for over 24 hours straight, and in my weakened condition, I couldn't keep my eyes open. So AC headed out to the casino to make his football bets and maybe play a little poker, while I took a hot shower then packed a couple of cough drops in my cheeks like a squirrel and headed off to bed. I got about five solid hours of sleep before my phone woke me up, but I ignored it.

I may kick around for a little while, but I'm about to take another hot-as-I-can-stand-it shower, swallow a few pills, and probably go back to bed.

I hope the rest of y'all have a good weekend.


Mikey

Gotta Have That Funk

I guess my immune system isn't as strong as I thought it was. I caught some kind of bug in the poker room last night, and I'm already feeling it. I know exactly who I caught it from--one of the regulars who is waaaaay too touchy for me, but he managed to get his hands on me several times while we were playing. I hate it--it gives me the creeps, but he's a nice guy--I was just stuck sitting next to him for a couple of hours.

It's not like he's a perv or anything like that, he just insists on patting my hand or grabbing my arm whenever we're talking. And he was coughing every few minutes, telling the dealer that he's been sick lately. Nice, huh? And even though I changed seats as soon as one became available, I still picked up his crud. It sucks, because I've already started with the occasional cough, even though I Zicamed the shiat out of my throat as soon as I got home. I can just feel my system going into overdrive trying to fight it off, but I can tell that my body is already sick.

And to make matters worse, I got completely hosed in the poker game last night, too. Bad beat after bad beat. I was living in River City, and not living well. I could run them down and tell you all about 'em, but just let me give you a taste of the two worst ones--Two different people crushed me with one-outers on huge pots. Coupled with the germy funk in the air, it was a sick night all around.

Being used to the graveyard hours, I stayed up once I gave up and came home at three this morning. Unable to sleep, I've been scrubbin' the house--doing the oddball stuff that sometimes gets overlooked--like cleaning out the fridge and reclaiming all of my Rubbermaid storage bowls from the science projects growing within each of them. Yep, the ol' garbage disposal got a workout this morning. After that, I 409'd everything, inside and out, and now all I have left to do is take out the garbage and mop the floor. That comes in a few minutes--right now I'm taking a break.

Once I got the dishwasher running and the rest of the kitchen sanitized, I hit the bathroom with a vengeance. My eyes are still burning from all of the bleach, but now the tub, toilet, and vanity are scrubbed cleaner than the luv-tub at the Imperial Palace after Angy checks in. Of course, the whole back half of the apartment smells like a swimming pool, but I'm hoping the fumes I'm breathing kill all the little nasties that are trying to take up residence in my lungs.

I've got to go to bed at some point--I'm tired, but not sleepy yet. And AC is coming over to watch the baseball games this afternoon, so I've got to get some rest. And after that, I've got to head over to the Rio and meet up with Ed tonight, too.

I'm hoping that once I lay down and get some sleep, I don't wake up feeling like complete shiat. But I just *know* that it's gonna happen that way. Crappy way to spend the weekend, huh? I'd hate to miss out on an opportunity for quality buffoonery because I'm laid up in bed for three days. At the very least, I guess I could hit up Walgreen's and buy a bagful of drugs, because somehow or another, I've got to tear this mother out...

Mikey

And Then There Were Two...

I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel-- All of my household projects are finally winding down. I finished the home theatre setup around 8:00 pm last night, fiddled around with it for an hour, and then tried to get a couple of hours of sleep before going into work. I say 'tried' because one of my gals decided to call and wake me up a couple of times. (You know who you are!)

Eventually, I gave up on the sleep, disabled my alarm, and got ready for work. I headed in a bit early, and it was a looong night. But a fairly decent one, though. Once I got done at seven this morning, AC and I decided to stick around and play some cards with the morning gang--it was a fun table, and I doubled up in the two hours that we were there. On the way home, I stopped at the bank to deposit most of my cash, and now I'm home for the day. Luckily, I have the night off, too.

Anyhow, back to the household projects. While I was out last evening to pick up the fiber-optic audio cable and speaker mounts, I took a chance and stopped by to see if maybe a particular dining room set I had been looking at was back in stock at the furniture store. It was the one I wanted for awhile (well, once I realized that I had to go with a smaller table), but it's been sold out every time I looked. And I've even gone to a couple other outlets around town looking for it, but always coming up short.

Well, last night, on a whim, I stopped to see if there might be one in stock. And I got lucky--they had one on hand, and it was on sale! So I told them to load it up in my truck and I was on my way. I didn't really want to spend the money, but it's now or never...

So in addition to the electronic components, I also brought home a new dining room set. And it's still boxed up, leaning up against the wall in the dining room. I may get to it today, but then again, I may not. I'm pretty tired, having been up since noon yesterday, and I'm also kind of hungry. All I had yesterday was a bowl of noodles around seven o'clock. So I'll probably fix a bowl of cereal and doze in front of the TV, enjoying the way-better-than-I-expected sound quality of my new system.

But once I get some rest, all that's left to do is put together the dining room set and then the headboard. And then I am DONE--this place will finally be finished. It's amazing--when I moved in here in May, all I really had was my bed, a desk, an old TV, kitchen stuff, and a shiatload of books in Rubbermaid storage totes. And as bad a month as July was, I've done pretty well since--well enough to get this whole apartment furnished. It's been a sacrifice though--I haven't been able to do anything but go play poker on occasion (and I've been running well again, and that's helped, too), and as much as I wanted to go on that cruise with my sisters, I had to make a tough choice. I could've gone, but if I had, I'd still be sitting on a camp chair to watch TV and using a Coleman cooler as a coffee table.

Now I feel like a grown-up again. I haven't had a household full of 'stuff' in almost nine years--back when I had my condo in Phoenix before the bubble burst. But enough about that. Life is good, and I just found out that my buddy Ed W. is coming to town this weekend. I've got a couple of days off, so I may find my way down to the neon this weekend.

Later-

Mikey

Explaining My Absence **UPDATED**

Sorry for the weak posting schedule this week, but I have an excuse. This is the project that I've been working on all afternoon:


Yep, my new headboard and the home theatre system both arrived at the same time this afternoon, and well, the headboard can wait--I want the sound system set up right away. So once my toys were delivered, I got right after it, carefully unpacking everything and making sure all the parts were in order.

This system seems to be going together much quicker and easier than my old one did eight years ago. I remember when I bought that one, Derek and I spent the better part of a full day measuring and stripping speaker wire, and then we pulled up the living room carpet in my condo and ran the wires to the rear surround channels--a royal pain in the ass if there ever was one. This time around I paid a few extra bucks and got the wireless surround speakers (if you look closely, you can see the black receiver unit sitting up on the shelf on the left, near the lamp).

Anyhow, it seems to be pretty straightforward, and I've got the extra HDMI cables already, so hooking everything up should be a breeze. My only problem is the right-rear surround speaker. I'm gonna have to rig some sort of funky speaker mount to deal with the problem of the two windows right next to each other at a 90-degree angle, because I want to put the speaker in that corner. Actually, I may just go take a look at Best Buy and see what they have. I'd hate to order something online and wait around for another week.

I'd like to be listening to music or watching a DVD with full-on surround sound by tonight, but we'll see if that happens. So that's what I'll be doing with the rest of my day.

Y'all have a good one.

Mikey

UPDATE:

A couple hours later, and I'm still right where I left off. Turns out that my new system only has 1 HDMI port, and it's an 'outie'. I just took for granted that it would have 2 ports--an input and an output. Alas, it does not. So after checking with Tech Support (Big Stogie), it turns out that all I needed was an fiber optic audio cable. So I had myself a little shopping trip this afternoon, and I just got back from doing the Best Buy-Radio Shack-WalMart shuffle. Spent a few bucks that I really didn't want to, but now I've got the necessary cable, plus a couple of wall-mounts for my surround speakers.

Eventually, I'll have this place all put together.

Tuesday Trip To Costco

You know you lead a fairly dull life when the highlight of the week is a trip to Costco. Actually, I wasn't really planning to go inside the warehouse and buy anything--I just stopped by to fill up the tank on the family truckster (at $2.57 a gallon), but as I was driving off, I saw something as rare as Bigfoot and Elvis riding in a convertible down the Strip.

There it was, something I'd never seen before--an empty parking spot right in front of the entrance!

I had to have it.

So, the next thing I know, I was pushing a cart around in Costco, not really shopping for anything in particular (well, maybe a decent dinette set if they had one), but shopping nonetheless. The first stop was at the optical department. Since I got glasses a couple of years ago, my eyes have become very weak and now I must wear glasses when I drive, see a movie, or do just about anything that requires me to look more than thirty feet off in the distance. And since The Man revoked my benefits when I made the jump to the poker room, I'm afraid that my next exam and eyeglass purchase is gonna be expensive. My trendy Seven Hills doctor that I used to go to is not cheap by any stretch of the imagination, and I didn't want to cough up four Benjis or more to get another exam and a replacement set of glasses that I'm sure I'll eventually need.

Browsing around, I found their prices to be pretty damn good, and the selection of frames was much more extensive than anything they offered at my old optometrist's office. So yeah, I'll probably pick up another pair of glasses--maybe two--in the near future.

Then I shuffled over to the cellphone kiosk, and came about thisclose to getting a new LG phone. There were a few stumbling blocks in the way, however. The two phones that were on sale today were butt-ugly, in colors that only a 13-year old girl would like. The one that I wanted was $89. And then, since I'm not on contract right now, in order to 'go legit' in the eyes of the bean counters at AT&T, I'd have to change my phone number. It's a complicated process, but I'm guessing it has more to do with the fact that I'm dealing with a vendor instead of Ma Bell directly. I'm gonna have to think about that one for awhile.

On the other hand, one of the gals who was familiar with the process told me that the phones *always* go on sale on weekends, so maybe if I check back on Sunday, I might get a better deal. Hmmm... By then I may be able to square myself with getting new phone number. We'll see.

After that, I just wandered a bit. Didn't find any decent tables, but the Christmas decor is already out in force. I spent a bunch of time browsing the wine selection, and while I love Louis Jadot vineyards, I have no experience whatsoever with Beaujolais. That was the only variety they had, and I was a little skittish. And I also like J. Lohr Merlot, but their Cabernet was the only thing offered, so I pretty much window shopped at that point, almost buying a bottle one can never go wrong with, an Oregon Pinot. Instead of wine, I just picked up a case of Sam Adams Octoberfest, having lost a bet with my buddy AC this week. He's a Dodgers fan...

I picked up a few other groceries, but the one thing I was most excited to bring home was a case of 'Hecho en Mexico' glass-bottled Coke. Made with real cane sugar instead of corn syrup. Oh hell yeah! Every time I mix that with some top-shelf rum and a squeeze of lime, I'm instantly transported back to a sunny place full of shady people. And it ain't bad straight, either.

In the meantime, I'm still in the market for a new dining room table, but after that, this apartment is DONE. My new headboard arrives tomorrow, as does the home-theatre system, and once all that stuff is put together, I can finally stop bleeding cash on home furnishings and maybe do something fun. Of course, I'm sure I can find other stuff that I'll want soon enough--kitchen gadgets always come to mind--but just the fact that I'll finally be done furnishing this place brings a great deal of satisfaction on it's own.

I just hope that when my lease is up next summer, they don't pop me for the regular price to renew. I got a smokin' deal on this place, and doubt I could afford to live here if they charged me the full-on normal rent. (I got $300 off per month for signing a 12-month lease). I like it here, and I certainly don't wanna move all this shiat again anytime soon.

Mikey

One Of My Favorite Authors

It is done!

My good friend and muse Linda Lou has finally finished her book. It's the culmination of five years of hard work, a little bit of heartache, a few tears, and maybe a beer or two, and the first couple of cases of the first edition are back from the printer, ready to be shipped out.


I've read the book, and found it to be thoroughly entertaining. She's got a great writing style (she's much more talented than me!), and the story is a good one. If you'd like to buy one--or more--you can get 'em here. Tell her that Mikey sent ya, and she might even autograph it for you.

Mikey

Henderson's Got Talent!

What a whirlwind weekend it's been for me. No, it wasn't quite up to the level of drunken tomfoolery when the September Madness buffoons were in town a couple of weeks ago, but I still had a great Vegas-style couple of days, and relaxing all day on Sunday was just what I needed. I'll tell more of my adventures in another post, but right now, I'm here to sing the praises of a new act I caught this weekend.

First of all, I hadn't seen my gal Linda Lou in a couple of weeks--we had lots of catching up to do. She finally got her book back from the printer, and not only is she proud of her effort, but I'm very happy for her--it's been a five-year labor of love and she's finally seen it to fruition. Anyhow, our plan was to meet up for drinks on Friday night, and she suggested the Ovation Lounge at Green Valley Ranch.

I was all over that, and at six o'clock, we were sitting in the bar tipping back a couple of beers. She presented me with my very own personalized copy of her book, and we settled in to share our latest adventures with one another. Our plan was to hang out for a bit, and then go inside the lounge (on the other side of the bar) and check out the live band at seven.

I guess I wasn't expecting much, but damn, what a band it was. We walked in and grabbed a cocktail table just as they were getting underway, and I was immediately hooked. The stage was crowded; there were the usual suspects in attendance--lead singer, guitarist, bass, drummer, keyboards--but then there was a horn section, an organist, a percussionist, and a couple of back-up singers. There were so many people up there that it kinda looked like a Parliament concert, minus the dreadlocks and the dude wearing a diaper.

The name of the group was The Michael Grimm Band, and the music they put out was nothing short of incredible. Absolutely fantastic. I seriously don't have enough superlatives to relate how good it was. They played a great combination of blues, soul, rock, and funk, and everybody in the room was down on the dance floor letting their freak flag fly after about the first minute or two. You couldn't help but get up and dance. Off the top of my head, I heard some Skynyrd, Al Green, Delbert McClinton, Blues Brothers, and the list goes on and on. And once they wore everybody out with the high energy stuff, they slowed it down and played a soul-rendering cover of Marc Cohn's Walking in Memphis.

The band leader, and main singer, Michael Grimm, has an amazing voice. At first I thought it sounded like a cross between Stevie Ray Vaughn and John Cougar Mellencamp, but the more we listened, we narrowed it down to 'Joe Cocker back when he spoke English'. Simply an incredible musician. There was also a singer who did a few turns out front and center who went by the name 'B Soul', and I guess he was a contestant who went fairly deep on American Idol, but I don't watch the show, so I wasn't familiar with his work--and he was also a great singer. But they weren't the only ones who knew their craft. You could tell that everyone up on that stage was just oozing in talent--it flowed out of their pores, puddled up at their feet, and ran out on to the dance floor. The synergy of having so many great musicians in one place was nothing short of being total ear candy. They were a 'tight' band, and I could've listened to them all night long.

We stayed for both sets, and danced ourselves into a decent-yet-civilized sweat. And we had a few rounds, too. Linda stayed with the Marsden beer, and once I spied a bottle of Montecristo rum on the bar, I did my best to empty it--one lime wedge and glass of Coke at a time. We also talked with the trumpet player from the horn section, an amazing talent in his own right, Michael Ray Taylor. He's got his own project going on, and was an interesting person to talk to. And yeah, I'm buying every CD they're selling at the next show.

They only played for about three hours, and it went by way too fast for me. They could've played all night and I would've stayed and listened. But we paid our tab, promised to do it again soon, and then said our goodbyes.

As I was heading out to fetch my truck from the valet, my phone was blowing up from one of my other gals, who wanted me to come meet her over at Club M to see one of her favorite dance bands, 'Envy', who were taking the stage a half-hour later. So I broke a few speed laws, eluded the ever-diligent Henderson cops, and got to the venue just under the wire.

Oh my god, what a difference. And not in a good way, either. That Envy band has got to be about the worst group I'd ever sat through. How they ever conned their way into a paying gig I'll never know. It was a six piece band--a bass player, a drummer, and a keyboardist--the rest of the music coming from sequencers. The other three people--the 'main' group on their posters, were just singers, and only one of them was any good. There was modernized Eddie Haskell (he actually had some talent), a blond-from-the-bottle bimbette with fake boobs and too much makeup, who's only contribution was to be eye candy, as far as I could tell, and then another dude who did their 'rap' stuff, but seemed like a huge Myspace d-bag come to life. Together, they were awful. But the gals in the crowd seemed to love 'em for some unexplained reason, and the waters were deep for trolling--I swear there were about ten chicks on hand for every guy in attendance. Even so, the music was awful. And they only did about a minute and a half of each song, running about five or six of them together at a time. Coming from seeing a professional, polished act, to seeing those lip-syncing poseurs was a monumental letdown. The best part of that show was that beers were only four bucks at the bar.

I could only take about an hour of it, so I made my apologies and excused myself before my head exploded. I was home by midnight, having to work early on Saturday morning.

So while I'm sure I'll never sit through another set with Envy, no matter what the venue, I can't wait to get back over to GVR and hang out at the Ovation. Besides Michael Grimm, they've got some other great free acts on constant rotation--Yellow Brick Road and The Lon Bronson All-Star band, too. It appears that I've found a new place to hang out when I tire of the poker rooms around town.

Mikey

Rome Is Right

Let me begin by saying that I'm not a big fan of Jim Rome. He's awful on radio--the undisputed KING of dead air, but I watch his show on TV almost every afternoon. It's not bad, but the man can be an arrogant prick. On the other hand, the format of his TV show, and the constraints of time, combine to keep the topics flowing, so I guess you could say I'm kind of a fan, but not a big fan. And I still giggle about the time he cowered like little girl back when Jim Everett came over the table and threatened to beat his ass on national TV.

However, his 'Final Burn' today kind of stole my thunder--it was a rant I wanted to address the other day, but figured it could wait. But he jumped on the subject, and now thousands of viewers are already in the know.

Basically, his issue (and mine), is the annoying habit of NFL analysts to constantly say 'National Football League' over and over again, instead of just saying 'NFL', like it carries some kind of gravity and mystical importance. Just pay attention some Sunday morning before the games start, and listen to how many times the talking heads say the drawn out 'National Football League' instead of just going with the more common acronym. And it's even worse once the games come on. The color commentators, most of which are former players, do it even beyond the point of annoyance.

Seriously, test the theory with a drinking game--do a shot of tequila every time an announcer says National. Football. League. next time there is a marquis matchup on TV. You'll be dead of alcohol poisoning by halftime.

I guess it wouldn't be so bad, except that they choose to go the drawn-out route, instead of choosing the economy of words and using the acronym like the rest of the world does, but it sounds even dumber when you consider that none of them can muster up the effort to say 'Roethlisburger' when referring to Pittsburgh's quarterback.

To a man, he's just 'Ben'. They say Peyton Manning's full name. Same with Tom Brady, Drew Breeze, Donovan McNabb, etc, but where the Steelers are concerned, it's just Ben, like they're all on a first-name basis with him. 'Roethlisburger' apparently takes way too much effort, but National. Football. League. is beaten into the ground like a dead horse every week. I don't know why I find it so irritating, but I do. It's like annoying country music fans, always referring to the stars by just their first names, like they were best of friends or something-- I saw Tim and Faith at Vittles yesterday!

Gag.

I don't know why they do it. I'm guessing that Roger Goodell came down with an edict from On High, and like Alyson Hannigan in American Pie, directing all TV personalities to Say my name, Bitch! Either that, or it's just a case of mass group-think. One moron did it, and it just caught on, kinda like the first newscaster jerkoff who decided that Quatar now rhymes with 'gutter'.


Mikey

Still Around, Just Not At The Keyboard

After posting that feature-film length epic 'trip report' about my weekend with the buffoons, I damn near wore out my keyboard. Well, at least the desire to sit and pound on it for any length of time. So I've been layin' low for the past couple of days. Not only that, but I *did* actually get called in to work on Saturday night, and I've worked every night since then, so I hope y'all appreciate the effort it took to crank that baby out and get it up and running late on Sunday afternoon.

I'm a little bummed out right now--all the sisters are off on the Sibling Revelry cruise this week, and I'm stuck here in Vegas. Would I rather be down in the Caribbean right now, laughing my ass off with the family? You know I would. I came about thisclose to going, but the whole furnishing-the-apartment thing got in the way this summer, and that, coupled with a very lean July kept me from attending.

Today, they're in Belize, and I wish I were there too, complaining about the heat and the humidity, while finally being able to get rid of a pile of Belizean currency I somehow brought back with me five years ago. Seriously--I'm using a Belizean $2 bill as the bookmark in all of my literary adventures, and I've got a few more bucks tucked away in the nightstand. Not much, but enough to buy a round of drinks at a thatched-roof beach bar.

Oh well, speaking of furnishing the apartment, I'm just about done. I found a dining room table that I wanted, but then when I took the measurements, and then taped them out on the floor like a chalk outline of a crime scene, it was just too damn big. Instead of seating for six, I'll have to settle for a smaller table with only four chairs. My dining room is not nearly big enough. I mean, it looks huge when it's empty, but now that the booze cabinet is there, it takes about three feet of usable space off of the length of the room. I tell ya what, nothing fills up a room like furniture. What was once a big empty warehouse is now a small cozy apartment. And my search for a suitable dining room table continues.

On the other hand, I have ordered a new headboard for the bed--I've been without one for so long that I'd forgotten that people use them. I haven't gotten an email letting me know when it ships out, but I'm sure that once I get it, it'll be a *much* simpler project than the booze cabinet was. And I doubt that I'll be in danger of bleeding out during the assembly process, too. I've also got my eye on a new surround-sound home theatre system, but that's iffy--I found a decent deal on one, but if I buy it, I'll be feeling broke again. And I hate feeling broke. But I really do need a real DVD player and speaker setup for my awesome TV. We'll see--I've had a pretty good week at work, plus a good run at the poker tables during my off time, so I've got the extra scratch, and I'd really like to get this place finished. I mean, I gave up a Caribbean cruise to get my house in order, and I'm anxious to finish the job.

That's about all the news from here. I've been running myself ragged for the past ten days or so, and there is no end in sight--I've either worked or been tied up with other commitments ever since a week ago Friday. And I don't even back-to-back days off this week, either--there's another tournament on Saturday, and I'm on call this Friday, too. We've got a pretty damn good promotion going on right now, and it seems to be working--I keep getting called in--so I'm not sure when I'm gonna be able to enjoy a full day off again.

But as far as the rest of today goes, well, it involves a whole lotta relaxin'...

Mikey

One More Round of the Madness

I must be getting old. Three days of buffoonery with the varsity drunks from T2V damn near killed me. Well, maybe it wasn't that extreme, but September Madness certainly put a hurtin' on me. It took me all week to recover, and I'm still popping aspirin six days later. I'll probably need to train for March if I want to keep up...

Anyhow, after the booze cabinet finally went together last Friday afternoon, I barely had enough time to take a shower and get dressed--Doc Al's plane was about 45 minutes early and I'd promised to pick him up at the airport.

Instead of meeting at the baggage claim Starbucks where I normally gather up the folks I pick up at the airport, once I got on the road, I called Doc and just told him to scurry across to the parking garage and take the elevator to the Excalibur level, where I'd be arriving in about five minutes. That was easy enough and just about the time I pulled up next to the elevator, he stepped off. Our weekend was underway.

The entire crew was staying at the MGM Grand, and Angy had booked an extra room for Al on the same floor, so that's where we headed. No need to hit the liquor store or drugstore first, as Miyagi so famously said, "Buddha provide", so we arrived empty-handed, save for one carry-on bag. Standing there at the valet, we had our first only-in-Vegas moment, as we saw an outrageously hot blond gal get out a mini-van wearing what appeared to be just a tank top and panties. Maybe she had some shoes, but our gaze never made it that far. And being out of practice, she disappeared while we were both fumbling for our cell phones, hoping to catch a quick photo...

Once we got inside, we called Angy to find out which room we were supposed to go to, and all she said was It's the room at the end of the hallway on the 15th floor. I don't know the room number.

Um, how's about maybe you go to the door and check it for us, since there are four hallways at the MGM Grand, once you get off the elevator, and each one is about a quarter mile long. It would suck to have to walk two miles if we guessed completely wrong...

Turns out, she wasn't exactly in the room at the time, she was up on the 17th floor, preparing the Terrace Suite for the party later that night. But the 'living' room was based down on the 15th floor. Eventually we figured out where we were supposed to go, and we knew we were headed in the right direction when we could smell the cigarette smoke about 30 feet from double doors at the end of the hallway. Yep, definitely a sign that Sticky, Angy, Sin, and Renae were there--chain smokers, all.

We knocked on the door and were greeted by all the gals--hugs all around, help yourself to a beer in the fridge, sit down, join the party... Besides the Cribs-style Terrace Suite upstairs, Angy had rented out an extremely pimped out two-bedroom suite for the gals to live in that served as the Mother Ship for the entire weekend. It was huge, and had a big damn dining room table and a bar, in addition to lots of extra couches and chairs, so entertaining was not a problem.

We spent some time catching up, then Angy came downstairs and gave Doc Al his room key--his room was on the same floor, in the same wing, about halfway back to the central hub where the elevators were. A couple of the gals accompanied Doc to his room, while I stayed in the suite, enjoying a cold Corona and the company of a few ladies.

Apparently, the gals had decorated Doc's room for him. There was an inflatable donkey in the bed, wearing the famous 'Superstar' panties from March Madness, condoms scattered about, and lots and lots of reeking crab and mussel shells.

Waaay back in the day, a bunch of us went to the Bally's Sterling Brunch one Sunday morning, and Angy had kept all the lobster shells and snuck them out in her purse. She also had a key to Doc Al's room at the time, and while he was off gambling that afternoon, she filled up the pillowcases with the shells. They were quite ripe by the time he made it back to the room the next morning, and ever since then, it's been an ongoing prank. I guess the gals had gone to dinner at SeaBlue the night before, kept all the empty shells, and then used them to class up the room before Doc arrived.

Mission accomplished--it stunk to high heaven in there. Heh.

He was a good sport about it, and there were a few pictures taken. Luckily, the gals weren't too cruel and decided to *not* put shells in the air vents, and somebody had also brought along some Febreze, so the room was habitable by that night.

Anyhow, we hung out in the main suite until around 7 o'clock, then, like a mass sponge migration, everyone headed up to the Terrace Suite on 17th floor. For those of you who've never seen one, I highly recommend it. It's a nice room, but even better, it's got a huge balcony that overlooks the south Strip, everything from NYNY all the way down to Mandalay Bay.

Not only was there an abundance of booze and at the bar, but room service had hooked us up with a full on buffet of cold cuts, condiments, bread, fruit, and cheese, plus several trays of chocolate dipped strawberries. And out on the patio there was a party tub filled with beer on ice. Angy is definitely the hostess with the mostess.

Now, my plan was to just hang out and go to the party for a couple of hours, and I guess that the original plan was that it was just going to be a happy-hour type of gathering, but as time went on, it got to be a full-on blowout, and since there was plenty of booze on hand, well, we kept it going until the wee hours. And there was plenty of buffoonery to be had. Let's look at a few pictures, shall we?

Scottie, Marty, Doc, and I pour out a sip in honor of our homies who couldn't be there. (Sonya, T, we're lookin' at YOU!)

Cheran is obsessed with making sure everyone has nametags, like we're at a convention or a VFW picnic or something, but we rarely use them for their intended purpose. In fact, most of the tags are slightly irreverent, as you can imagine. My favorites were Marty's that simply said Do Not Resuscitate or Tara's that said If you think I'm hot now, just wait till the Beer Goggles kick in. I think mine said If we wake up together, my name is Mikey. If you wind up pregnant, my name is Terry... Doc Al, of course, was sporting a variety of tags by the end of the evening.

I call this one "Imminent Derailment"

Me and mah bitches. Actually, I think they were Snert's bitches, I just borrowed them for awhile. That's Tara, Mikey, and Shawna.

Andrea, Haidy, Angy, and Sandra. This must've been taken early in the evening, as all of them still have their clothes on.

Just like Clemens on steroids, Angy and Cheran can still bring the heat, even from the far side of forty.

This is what the camera doesn't show, every time a picture is taken at a T2V gathering.

Al and Snert in a moment of male bonding. All the gals must've been in the bathroom at the time.

Marty, Sticky, Snert, and Sin. In the poker world, I think they're known as 'railbirds'.

Just a group shot on the patio--looking through all my pictures, I don't think I got a single decent photo of the view we had up there, but believe me, it was excellent. On the other hand, it looks like Sin was actually shocked at the latest indecent proposal sent her way.

Van, Sticky, and Wilson from 'Home Improvement'.

It was a helluva party, and I had a great time. I got to catch up with a lot of old friends who I hadn't heard from in months, and Sticky and I actually had a really nice conversation for awhile. We haven't talked in what seems like forever--there was a little awkwardness there--but it's all water under the bridge now and we had a good time together. And not only that, but because everyone there is just plain damn funny, I laughed my ass off all night.

The party started to wind down around 1:30 in the morning--I know, early for Vegas, but then again, we started at seven. Some folks started trickling off to their rooms, but there was a contingent of die-hards that wanted to go to Carnaval Court before it closed at three, then head to the Peppermill for the inevitable early morning breakfast.

Way too tired to participate, and way too drunk to drive home, Doc Al graciously offered me the use of the extra bed in the Seafood Suite. I left with the Die Hards, but halfway to the elevator, I said goodbye to the caravan of drunks about to be unleashed on the Vegas Strip and took advantage of Al's generous offer, on the condition that he didn't try to spoon up with me when he got back later.

I kicked off the shoes and the smokey outer layer of clothing, washed my face, and hit the bed. Oh my dear god those beds at MGM are comfy. I swear, I thought the ones at TheHotel were the best, but that bed at MGM was just pure awesomeness. I crashed, hard, not stirring again for a couple of hours until I heard the drunks rolling down the hallway like an incoming thunderstorm. For a moment I felt bad for all the guests who had the bad fortune of staying in the east wing of the 15th floor at MGM that weekend. They got no sleep.

Doc Al gave me a brief rundown of the experience, and it was pretty much what I guessed--drunken buffoonery followed by lots of toast. We closed the curtains against the approaching sunrise, and finally called it a night.

Sometime around 10:30 or so, we started to stir. I had no extra clothes with me, having not planned on sticking around but for a couple of hours on Friday night, but I was caught up in the whirlwind by that time. We were both pretty damn hungry, so we decided to hike over to America over at NYNY. I'd worry about clothes later.

Now, even though MGM and NYNY are right across the street from each other, and connected by a catwalk, we were at the far east end of the property, and it was a hike to get to the restaurant. It did us good, working the kinks out, and luckily there was no waiting for a table by the time we got to the cafe.

I've been to America many many times, and I know a lot of people swear by the place, but me, I've never thought it was that great. In fact, I'm pretty much over it. Their service is a little sketchy, the prices are a bit high, and the food ain't that great. This latest visit confirmed my opinion--we both had a serving of the driest pancakes in captivity, and even though it was an all-you-can-eat deal for like $5.99, each of us could only eat two of 'em before giving up.

Over breakfast, Doc Al pointed out the obvious fact that I was now officially part of the gathering, and like a street gang, I couldn't leave unless I were dead. Blood in, blood out. I agreed, and so after we paid the check, we headed back over to the valet at MGM to fetch the truck. We drove back over here to the bachelor pad, and I propped Al up on the couch to doze in front of the Wisconsin game while I showered and gathered a few belongings in a suitcase.

Thankfully we never made it to a sports book that morning, as I was planning on betting heavy on Miami. While getting dressed and packed, we watched the highlights of Va Tech kicking the crap out of them and both gave a sigh of relief--another bullet dodged.

Once I had all my gear packed for a couple of nights at the hotel, we headed back towards the Strip. I had to stop and get gas, so while we were doing that, I picked up some bottles of Coke and water, and also a few packs of smokes for my gals Sin and Sticky--they were paying $8.50 a pack at the casino, but at the gas station, it was only five bucks or so. So I grabbed some Marlboro reds for Sin and some Lights for Sticky, hoping at the very least that it would bring some good gambling karma (although, I hadn't gambled a cent at the time).

We got back to the hotel, ditched my suitcase, and headed back down towards the end of the hallway to hang out with the girls. Sticky, Marty, Snert, and a few others had gone to Treasure Island, but there was still a decent-sized crew at the MGM. We just hung out in the suite for the afternoon, having a few drinks, socializing, and I'm embarrassed to admit it, watching Jerry Maguire. (Once it was over, however, the gals obliged us by letting us watch some football).

Eventually, we made plans to have dinner at Isla at 6:00 pm. I managed to get us a reservation for 12 people, but when it got down to it, our party was down to six--Me, Doc, Sin, Patty, Linnie, and Angy. Four of us got there first, and chilled at the bar drinking strawberry margaritas. Yes, they were quite tasty. Doc Al and Linnie eventually showed up, and we made our way to the table.

More margaritas were ordered, and we dug into the chips and salsa--everyone loved the chipotle, and we also ordered some shrimp ceviche, some guacamole, and a dish of queso fundido with chorizo. For some reason, the only picture we took at dinner was of the queso. So, here ya go:

It was damn tasty, too, and a big hit with everyone. Eventually we got around to ordering a proper dinner, and I think five of us ordered the steak and shrimp special of the day. It turned out much better than it sounded--a marinated sirloin cut, covered in spiced and sauteed veggies, with three large grilled shrimp on top. Of course it came with rice, beans, and tortillas, too, and everyone loved it.

As much fun as we were having, we couldn't linger for too long--we had to get back to the hotel and get ready for our evening out. Anyhow, after dinner, we bypassed the peasants in the taxi line and piled into a waiting limo, which took us back up to the MGM. We had about an hour and half before the party bus was meeting us downstairs for our night at the Voodoo Lounge, so everyone split up to shower, get dressed, and make themselves pretty.

At 9:30, the herd, now dressed up and looking good, had gathered outside the limo staging area and a few minutes later, our chariot arrived. We all piled on, and for the first time, it was a party bus ride that didn't have a single drop of alcohol involved. Actually, even though it was almost ten o'clock at night, the day was pretty much just getting started, and there was a quiet, subdued vibe going on. No dancing, no drinking, not much buffoonery at all. I swear the driver must've thought that he had the lamest group of partiers ever to cut loose on a Saturday night in Vegas. It was like a bunch of retirees heading from the rest home to the outlet mall for their monthly outing...

This was the extent of the buffoonery on the Party Bus as we made our way over to the Rio. I feel so ashamed.

It was a short, and quiet, limo ride, and just as we were pulling into the Rio, I told Marty that it was so quiet I kinda felt like Ox arriving at boot camp in Stripes. So of course the first thing out of his mouth when we saw a uniformed security guard at the hotel entrance was, How's it goin', Eisenhower?

Heh.

Angy had arranged for a VIP area and bottle service up on the roof at the Voodoo Lounge, and a few minutes later, we were escorted up by her host at the Rio--private elevator, private entrance, and a grand spectacle as we made our way through the teeming masses to our roped-off couches. Actually, since it was only 10 pm, the masses hadn't really started to teem just yet, but still, it was pretty cool to walk through like a bunch of D-list celebrities.

Now, I've never been one for that whole VIP concept, and especially bottle service. I would never ever ever in a million years cough up $300 for a bottle of Captain Morgan, or $350 for some Crown, just for the privilege of being able to sit down in a club. But I see the attraction now. Angy, Marty, and Snert had arranged for all of us to have a high-end good time, and I believe we had 12 bottles to start with. The bill must've been staggering, but hey, you only live once, right?

So we had a huge roped off area up against the rail, overlooking the Vegas strip, right next to the dance floor. We had tons of booze, an endless supply of ice, mixers, and garnishes, and the hottest damn cocktail waitress I've ever seen. As smokin' hot as she is in the picture, it doesn't even come close to her real-life hotness. Behold:


That's easily the best picture of Marty, EVAR. In fact, brothaman said he was gonna have a copy made into a huge Fathead and have it mounted over his bed.

But that's not the only picture that was taken--here are a few more to give you the 'flava' of the evening:

Everyone was a big fan of Tara's legs. Especially the fellas.

It wouldn't be a proper night at the club without a few Hawaiian Tropic gals in attendance. I had to snap a few close-ups, too.

Cocktails in the foreground, Bellagio in the background. Vegas, baby. Vegas.

The beginnings of the bottle service. It didn't look that way for very long.

Dancing With The Stars, Sticky-style. You just know she was thinking something like "Damn, my partner better keep his zipper up until the end of the song..."

Of course, the gals in the neighboring VIP area couldn't resist the gravitational pull of our merry band, so they came over to dance with us.

Another view of our waitress...

Me, Angy, and Doc, doing what we do best.

The gals of T2V

It was also Angy's birthday that weekend, so we secretly passed the hat and raised enough money to get a couple of magnums of Cristal sent over. We raised a toast to her--with real glasses this time, not paper cups--and wished her a happy one. Good times--I'm tellin' ya, this group just knows how to have fun in Vegas.

I really wish I had more pictures of our gang at the club, but there is a reason--first of all, a lot of the pictures are somewhat naughty, and maybe not safe for work, and definitely not safe for some folk's dignity, so those stay in the vault. And the batteries in my camera died later that night, so my picture-taking wrapped up earlier than most. But trust me when I say that we had a great time. Even though I'm not a 'club' kind of guy, we really had a fantastic evening up there. It probably helped that I met a nice gal and spent an hour snuggling with her on the couch. Oh and guess what her name was...

Kimmy.

For real, yo.

Anyhow, here we be:


There was no deal-closing, however. She was with her married friend, and that's a tough obstacle to overcome even for the best of wingmen. Besides that, by the time we hooked up, I'd pretty much lost my voice entirely, but we still had a nice time together.

Around 3:00 am, I was spent. I'd had a drink in my hand for five hours straight, I danced, partied, schmoozed, flirted, took pictures, and just carried on like a typical buffoon all night long. A few of our party had trickled off back to their respective hotel rooms, the luckier ones with new friends in tow. And the really lucky ones with two friends in tow. I'm not naming any names, though. Me? I made my way down to the cabstand by myself and headed back over to the MGM.

In a stunning coincidence that defies all odds, just as I was getting out of the cab and crossing that big damn huge lobby at the MGM Grand, making my way to the elevators, I saw one of the gals we were dancing with earlier in the evening coming towards me, catching a cab back to her hotel. She saw me and grinned, and I said A little early to be doing the walk of shame, don't ya think? She just laughed and said I don't know what you're talking about...

Doc had called it a night much earlier than I did, and he was there half asleep when I came stumbling in. So I turned on the light and we sat up for about a half hour, laughing our asses off, retelling our adventures from the night, and cementing a load of great stories forever into the memory banks.

At some point, we could laugh no more, and both of us crashed, hard.

But a full night's sleep was not to be ours. There was a pounding at the door, and I said to Doc, You know that's just Angy--you want me to get it? He said no, he'd take care of it. But first, let me put on some pants.

I was like, Dude, it's just Angy--I think she's seen all of us without pants at some point...

Luckily, he insisted, because it wasn't Angy--it was a whole platoon of MGM Security guards. Apparently, somebody had pointed to our room and said the words "Domestic Disturbance". Once they realized that me and Doc weren't a married couple on the outs, all Doc could say was Thank god I put my pants on before I opened the door.

But there were knocks on other doors and such, and some kind of drama out in the hallway. And a few minutes later, Angy and a few others *did* show up, but by then, the storm had passed, all was quiet. Eventually, we got back to bed and got some sleep.

I still wanted to get up and watch some football somewhere, but unless you're up at the crack of dawn, you ain't gettin' a seat in the sports book. We were up closer to the crack of noon, so we knew our chances of getting seats anywhere were kind of slim. The original plan was to go to the Hilton and sit in the theatre, just like we normally do, but for some reason, that idea went out the window. Doc finally suggested that we have breakfast at the Grand Lux and decide from there.

I was cool with that, so we fetched the truck and headed north on Koval. Instead of the Grand Lux at the Venetian, which is kind of a clusterf*ck, we decided to go to the one at the Palazzo instead. And I'd never set foot inside the Palazzo before, so now was my chance.

...And now that I've been--meh.

I'm not a big fan of huge airplane-hangar casinos, and that's what Palazzo is. If feels like an overpriced Monte Carlo on the inside. Not my style. Anyhow, when we got to the Grand Lux, there was no line at all, and there were a couple of games on the TVs in the bar, so we opted to just sit there and have breakfast and watch the games.

I had ham and eggs, I don't remember what Doc had, besides a bloody Mary. I had a screwdriver made with Stoli Vanilla, and it was good and stiff. Breakfast was really good, although a tad on the pricey side, but we sat there for quite awhile. The problem with watching football on those high bar chairs is that your ass falls asleep--not the most comfy place to lounge for three-plus hours trying to watch a football game.

So we paid the $70 breakfast tab and headed off in search of greener pastures. We checked out the Legasse Stadium, which is a great concept, but not nearly big enough for the size of the hotel it's in. Seriously, somebody needs to tell Uncle Sheldon that if he's gonna have a hotel with 5000 rooms, the sports book needs to be able to seat more than a couple hundred people. Same with the pool. Trying to score seats was a fruitless endeavor, so we ended up sitting at one of the bars in the middle of the casino.

It was there that we reached the breaking point--we ordered a Captain and Coke and a Screwdriver, and Doc laid a $20 bill on the counter. The waitress looked down at it, and then said to Al, Sorry sir, the total is $21.50.

WTF?!?!?

Why don't you just bend us over and take it out of our asses instead?

Seeing the disgusted look on our faces, she offered up an alternative. Just put $20 each in the video poker machines and I can comp them. I countered with, Oh yeah, good plan there, now it's gonna cost us forty bucks...

But we did. And of course there were no quarter machines there at the bar. Only dollars. Doc lasted four spins, I played minimum credits, but then changed to video blackjack about halfway through my twenty. Removing any hint of pleasure from the ass-raping they were giving us, the video blackjack was set so that you couldn't split or double down on anything. And blackjacks paid even money. I played it just long enough to get all my money back, plus one dollar (not for the bartender, but for the valet back at MGM), and we called it quits.

I doubt that we'll be going back to the Palazzo anytime soon.

On the way back to the Emerald City, we called Angy, and she said that they were just starting to stir back at party central, so come on over.

We did, and spent the balance of the afternoon lounging in their suite with the gals. I went on a mission of mercy to fetch cold Cokes and ice (all of the drinks down in the sundries shop were room temperature all weekend), and we made a few drinks and passed around the cameras and such, laughing at all the buffoonery caught on digital 'film'.

Al had to head back to the Great Purple North that afternoon, so he was the first of the party to bail out on us. Renae followed shortly thereafter. It sucked that they were leaving--Doc Al is a great Vegas compadre and a buffoon of the highest order. I always have a good time when he's around.

While we were kicking it there in the suite that afternoon, Sin and I were talking about a trip out to Grimaldi's for dinner, but then everyone else wanted pizza, too. I said that the only way we could get the whole crowd out there in my truck was "if everyone rode in the back like Indians going to a Metallica concert", and that sent Sin into a major fit of giggles. It was contagious, and coupled with all the other silliness we'd encountered over the weekend, it turned into a full-on epidemic of laughter.

Eventually, we composed ourselves, and Sin offered to go down to the food court and pick up a couple of pizzas there. Being a pizza snob, I wasn't too sure I wanted to go that route, but it was obvious that we weren't going to dining at Grimaldi's that night. So we all chipped in and she took off to go fetch dinner for everyone that was lounging around in the suite.

Well, we were pleasantly surprised with the pizzas she brought back. Absolutely excellent, especially when you consider it was from the restaurant row downstairs in the casino. Maybe we were just hungry, but we tore into them with reckless abandon and everyone commented on how good it was. I don't know the name of the pizza joint at MGM, but they make a damn fine pie.

Our plan for the evening was to head downtown and do some old-skool Vegas. Dougie was in town for one night, on his way to San Diego with the wife and kids for a family vacation. But he had a free pass that night, after 8:00 pm.

There were about eight or nine of us still lurking about at the MGM at that point, and we took a couple of cabs down to the Golden Nugget once the sun went down. Dougie met us, and the party was on once again. The first order of business, once we got drinks in our hands, was that we decided that we'd take over a poker table at Binion's and get a private game going.

But during the walk from the Nugget to Binion's, we ran into Don D, and he had arranged with his host at the Plaza for all of us to come up to Firefly for drinks and appetizers. None of us were really that hungry, but Firefly is the shiat, and free drinks will always get this group's attention, so that's where we went.

If you haven't been to the Plaza lately, they've changed it up once again--that big glass dome out front that used to be the Center Stage restaurant, and then a sports bar, is now a branch of the Firefly restaurant. I'd been to the original out on Paradise, and loved it. Now that there's one downtown, I'm *sure* I'll be visiting more often.

We got a bunch of seats together in the lounge off of the main dining room and bar, and everyone ordered a round of drinks. Everyone got their normal favorites, but I can't go to Firefly and not drink the house special, so I ordered a sparkling Sangria, as did Kara.

Oh my god it was good. Seriously, it was one of the best cocktails I've ever had. I could've parked myself under the vat and suckled directly from the teat all night, given half a chance. Kara agreed--it was damn good.

Not too many of our group had been to Firefly before, so they weren't quite sure what to order. Somebody got some marinated steak skewers and there were some garlic fries and diablo shrimp on the way, too. I said no way, and had to introduce my peeps to the awesomeness that is their bacon-wrapped stuffed (with an almond an blue cheese) dates. They are fantastic--God's own finger food whenever he throws a cocktail party.

I told the waitress to bring five orders, and if need be, I'd cover it out of my own pocket (we were on a comp at the time). When they arrived and everyone tried them, it was an instant hit. I think we ordered six or eight more servings once that first round disappeared. Oh yeah, they're that good. If you ever find yourself at Firefly, you simply must order the bacon-wrapped dates. Definitely a crowd pleaser.

We ran up quite a tab, but Don D and Marty managed to get the whole thing comped. So we passed the hat and gathered enough for the entire wait staff to have a very good evening, and we headed back out to Fremont Street. Eventually, we made it to Binion's--not exactly in a straight line, but we got there. While waiting to get a poker game going, we wandered a bit.

It seems that Binion's has been bitten by the Harrah's and Venetian philosophy--Times are tough, so let's gouge the hell out of everyone who walks in the door. Every single one of the blackjack games in Binion's was one of those 6:5 abominations. And we're not talking single deck here, folks--they were doing that on the shoe games. Hell, we even saw a continuous shuffle game that paid 6:5!

Not one dime. They won't get a single dime from me.

I will never play another table game at Binion's until they come to their senses. Not a chance in hell. Living here in Vegas has kinda soured me on blackjack and dice and pretty much everything except poker, so it's no big deal to me. I can easily walk through the valley of the shadow of neon and not be tempted in the least to step up to the green felt. But folks that come here only once or twice a year? I'm afraid that if they start to feel like they're getting ripped off--which they are--they won't come back at all. Brilliant strategy, morons.

Anyhow...

We eventually rounded up ten people who wanted to play some poker, and we got our private game on. It's always a great time, and the smack talk came fast and furious. Of course, we sorely missed Doc and Terry's money at the table, but there's always March. I started out doing pretty well, but Marty was just running over the table.

At one point, I was down about $60 and flopped a straight. Snert had the bad luck to be holding pocket Aces at the same time, and I got damn near back to even on that one hand. I caught a few more, and by the time the game broke up after about three hours, I'd made $80. Woot! Is there nothing sweeter than winning money at the poker table from everyone who's been talking shiat all night? I think not!

Once the game broke up, we all made our way back over to the Plaza for more gambling. I should've sat out and just drank, but Marty led the invasion of a dice table, and I had to join the party.

Of course, we all stunk up the joint with our shiatty rolls--I think only Sticky had a decent one, but after an hour or so, we were all crushed. I lost $180, some lost more, some lost less, but the bottom line, we all got our asses kicked by the dice gods. Kinda sucked.

It must've been about three in the morning by then, and everyone was looking for breakfast. Binion's coffee shop is no longer open 24 hours, so that idea was a bust. (But by then, I didn't mind, the thievin' bastards). We eventually found ourselves at Magnolia's at the Four Queens, asking for a table for 12 people.

Not surprisingly, our drunken rabble pretty much drove everyone else out of the restaurant. By then, the endless chorus of "Cuz you mah FAM-LEE!!!!!" repeated to the point of annoyance in a loud, irritating southern accent, was the catch phrase of the weekend. (I think Angy's host, a complete hillbilly chick, uttered it after a heavy shot of Patron at the Rio the night before, and it got repeated about a million times since by everyone in attendance). Oh yeah, it'll find it's way onto a t-shirt by the time March Madness rolls around.

Breakfast was an adventure to say the least. Everyone was smashed, loud, and hungry, and some outsiders might even use the word 'obnoxious' to describe the pack of drunks who eventually had the entire dining room to themselves. Yep, I think we wore out our welcome there at Magnolias. But at least everyone got lots of toast...

After the tab was paid, along with a very generous tip to kind of make up for the behavior on display, we shuffled out to the street to catch a couple of cabs back to the MGM. It was a quiet ride, as the evening's craziness had started to catch up with everyone.

When we got back to the hotel, we saw a couple of smokin' hot hookers coming into the lobby at the same time we were, and they engaged Marty and I in conversation. But after just a few minutes, they could tell that they weren't gonna close the deal, and they headed off for the more lucrative waters of the main casino, and our herd of drunks slowly made its way to the elevators.

Doc Al was gone, so I had the Seafood Suite all to myself for the night. I took a quick shower, packed up my suitcase, and set my alarm for 8:30 in the morning--just four hours hence. Angy had a cabana booked for the day, and although I really wanted to go, I was pretty sure I needed to go home and get things done, plus catch up on some rest--I had to work on Monday night.

The four hours passed much too quickly, and I laid there in bed for about ten minutes after the alarm went off, debating whether or not I should spend the day sipping umbrella drinks and ogling fake boobs at the cabana, or being responsible and heading back to the house to run some errands and rest up before my workweek started. Eventually, the adult consciousness won out, and I grabbed my suitcase and headed down to the valet. I sent a text message to everyone, thanking them for a great weekend, and saying goodbye, and then left Angy a voicemail, telling her how much fun I had and that I'd be heading home instead of spending caddie day at the pool.

My September Madness had come to an end. Honestly, when I woke up on Friday morning, I had absolutely no notion of the weekend I had in front of me. I had no plans at all to be living like a tourist at the MGM Grand for three days, and my system was definitely not prepared for all the alcohol I tried to poison it with.

But I had a fantastic, wonderful time. Superlatives alone can't describe all the laughs and good times I shared with my friends. I think it was even better just because it was wholly unexpected. But now I can't wait for March. September, as good as it was, is only the appetizer. The main course is six months away, and what a feast it will be.


Mikey

Friday Night, Vegas Style

Well, ok, maybe it's not totally Vegas style--I mean, it's like 11:15 at night and I'm already home. But after last weekend, I could use a whole month's worth of early nights--I'm still worn out from last weekend's 'September Madness' buffoonery, and I've been draggin' ass ever since.

Anyhow, my Friday didn't get started until late in the afternoon. After I got out of work early in the morning, I was too tired to even go have breakfast with my friends. Oh, there was talk of hanging out and playing some poker, then maybe heading over to Sam's Town and spending a few bucks on the supposed outrageously good odds on their super-parlay cards, but in the end, my ass was just too worn out and I came straight home and went to bed. I cannot rage like I used to. Seriously, it's taken almost five days to recover from that three-day bender.

So I slept like a rock until 2:30 in the afternoon, then shuffled off to the living room just to say that I got out of bed. I farted around for a bit, then hopped in the shower a couple hours later. I left the house at five, stopped at the bank, and then headed over to Joker's Wild. My buddy AC and I planned to play in their 6:30 tournament again.

I got there early enough to secure a couple of seats, then I ambled over to the sports book to have a peek at their lines and perhaps have a beer or two. Turns out that Stations had better lines for the games I wanted to bet on, so I just sat down to watch some baseball until AC showed up. No waitress ever came near me, and I dozed off for a couple of minutes. AC did a couple of bets, but I was still feeling a little bit out of it, so I just went to the snack bar and got some coffee.

As far as the tournament went, I was doing pretty well, but I had Aces-up cracked twice. There were forty players, and I went out in a blaze of glory with Ace-Eight of diamonds losing to Ace-Nine offsuit. Neither of us improved, and there were no mustache cards on the board, so I didn't even get to chop. Out of forty players, I went out in 12th place. Sadly, they don't pay much for moral victories.

AC had busted out long before I did, and he'd already gone home by the time I got knocked out, so I was flying solo by then. I still needed to get my picks in, and I wanted to play some poker--other than that silly 2-4 spread game they have there at JW--so I headed over to Sunset Station.

I parked on the roof of the parking garage, just because it was a nice night out and the view up there is pretty cool. As I was getting on the elevator, a young couple joined me. They wanted to make conversation, and the guy asked me if I was staying there at the hotel.

No, I just stopped by to make a few football bets and play some poker.

"Really? What do you play?", he asked.

Either 4-8 or 1-2 no limit, whatever is available..., I told him.

"Oh, not me--I'm more of a hold-em man myself."

Pause.

WTF?

Clearly you are, I thought to myself for a split second before just nodding. Whatever dude. I guess he still had to work on impressing his lady friend.

Luckily the elevator spat us out before he made an even bigger fool of himself, and I headed off to the sports book. I did an eight-team teaser for college, and a five-team parlay for the NFL on Sunday. I spent twenty bucks on some longshots, but it makes the games more fun to watch.

I got back over to the poker room and put my name on the waiting list (it was busy as hell in there). The waitress was kind enough to bring me an Amber Bock, and I killed time talking to a couple of my friends who had showed up ahead of me.

I didn't have to wait too long for a seat, and although I started out slowly, I had some really bad opponents, and I started to chip up. I only suffered one bad suckout--a guy called a preflop raise and all my pushing from under the gun with 3-5 offsuit, and made an inside straight on the river, crushing my set of Jacks. That hand damn near put me over the edge, but I popped him again later, knowing he'd call me all the way down with any draw or any pair.

Hell, I turned the nut flush on one hand, he bet out, I raised, and he re-raised me. Gotta love that, especially with two other callers in the hand, and the river came a useless Ace that improved somebody, so I raked a very nice pot.

After about two and half hours, I'd more than doubled up, so I figured it was time to call it a night and not give the fickle poker gods a chance to cut my chip stack back down. I stopped to talk to a couple of other poker buddies on the way out, but then, it was straight back here to the bachelor pad.

I'm wide awake now, so I'm thinking that my system is fully recovered. I'll start writing my experiences from last weekend--and I've got lots of pictures, too--and that should be up by Monday, unless I get called into work again this weekend.

Until then, y'all have a great weekend!

Mikey

Summer Is Finally Over...

And this time I mean it! It's breezy, with a chill in the air here in Vegas today. It was 101 degrees yesterday, but the wind kicked up last night, blew out all the hot air, and brought in cool air from someplace else. Right now, it's 68 degrees in Hendertucky, thirty degrees less than it was yesterday when I went out to run some errands. Football weather. Time to light some pumpkin-spice candles and make a pot of chili.

So of course the first thing I did when I got home this morning was to open up all the windows, plus the sliding door on the patio, and air this place out. It's been closed up tight pretty much the entire time since I moved in, and I figured a little bit of fresh air would do some good. Besides, it's only going to get up to 79 degrees today, so the air conditioner is off for at least the next 24 hours. Hopefully I'm done with it until next April.

I haven't started writing any epic trip-report style of narrative about my weekend, and I doubt that I will. Mostly I'll just post some pictures and some captions. If y'all want all the juicy details, buy a plane ticket next time and join us. But whatever I put together (eventually) will be sure to entertain. Besides, I'm still in recovery mode. Monday was a completely lost day for me, and luckily it was a slow night at work. Tuesday I didn't do a damn thing all day except run a couple of errands, otherwise, I divided my time between dozing on the couch and reading a book. (The Commodore, for those who may be interested).

Work seemed to be kinda slow when I got there last night, but I had one of those 'perfect nights'--a couple of tales go into the files to be shared at a later time, and then I spent the balance of the evening dealing to a truly enjoyable table--lots of fun, some great stories, and interesting conversation all night long. Plus I made decent money, too. So I certainly can't complain.

Once the game broke, I hung out for a bit, talking with the floorman and the cocktail waitress for awhile, and treated myself to a well-deserved Amber Bock. Finally, around six this morning, the daytime crew started showing up, so I hit the road. I was running low on supplies, so I made a stop at the grocery store. I intended to spend thirty bucks, but somehow ended up spending almost seventy. Too much stuff on sale, I guess.

But now I'm home and my all-nighter is catching up to me. I've got nowhere to be for the rest of the day, and no obligations to meet, so I think that once I get some sleep, I may start on trying to piece together the remnants of the weekend. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the cool breeze and the comforts of my pillow.

Mikey

First Things First

To answer a few questions people have asked--Yes, I *did* get the booze cabinet finished on Friday. But it was an all-day job, even with two of us working on it. For those of you who have asked where to buy one because you want one also, let me give you some advice: Block out an entire afternoon, make sure you have at least one other person helping you, and you'll need a fully stocked tool kit, not just a Phillips screwdriver and the Allen wrench they supply. Otherwise, it's a breeze!

But first, a little back story. Here's a view of the dining room before the new booze cabinet arrived:


You can click on the photo for full-sized goodness, but you'll see that the area is just a catch-all for anything that I hadn't taken the time to get properly stored. I took this picture sometime early last week, and you'll notice my new night stand and reading lamp there on the left. Additionally, you can see storage totes, the vacuum cleaner, and Linda's furniture dolly. And the table in the back is just stacked with random junk--books, mail, candles, empty boxes, etc. No, I'm not very proud of the way it looked, but I'd been working my ass off for two weeks straight and didn't have much time to attend to it. So that's where I started.

But once the cabinet was purchased and on it's way, I did what I could to clean up the area. Here's how we looked on Thursday afternoon:

The first, less heavy, box is in back, with it's contents leaning and sitting on the table. The second, much heavier, box arrived a day later, and that's as far as I scooted it before taking the utility knife to it.

I should've taken a picture or two once I got everything unpacked, because it was a mess to behold. But once I got going, I forgot all about documenting the process for the sake of posterity.

After I posted on Friday morning, I gave myself a head start around 11:30 or so, trying to show a little progress before AC showed up. He actually didn't get over to the apartment until 1:00 o'clock, just an hour late, but he had a good excuse--he was out entertaining the ladies until sometime after six that morning. I was invited along, but I declined, knowing that if I'd gone, I would've stayed out all night and procrastinated this cabinet project into October.

Anyhow, I brewed a pot of coffee, turned on some SportsCenter to provide the background noise, and set out with my handy-dandy tool kit. The assembly instructions, although smartly illustrated, left a whole lot to the imagination. My interpretation was only off once, when I mounted a cap-piece on backwards, but otherwise, things went together fairly smoothly at first.

Like I mentioned, AC showed up at 1:00 o'clock, and with him there, we really picked up the pace. Oh, there were a few snags here and there--a rubber mallet would've been nice to have to help encourage some of the pieces to fit a little more smoothly, since a BFH would've marred the finish. And a critical screw fell out of the wineglass rack sometime during initial assembly, and I had to reattach the parts with a spare screw and superglue.

The biggest bitch of the assembly process came towards the end. Actually, make that the two biggest bitches. I was putting together the glass doors, and AC was trying to attach the heavy lid piece. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the damn screw holes to square up, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get the glass to fit correctly in one of the doors. We both fought our battles to a draw individually before we got smart and realized that we outnumbered the liquor cabinet.

What made the whole thing even worse, is that the glass wasn't beveled on the edges at all--it was razor sharp, and when I slid the first piece into the first door, I just kind of let it go, and when gravity took over, it sliced my finger so f*cking deep that it bled for over two hours.

Seriously, if I had health insurance, I would've been in the emergency room getting stitches. I didn't realize how bad it was at first--a cut that clean and deep feels like a paper cut and just stings like a mother, but doesn't seem so serious. But after the bar towel I was using started to look like it was part of a crime scene, we went old-skool on the first aid. A little dab of super glue, a paper towel, and some scotch tape and I was good to go. Even then it still took forever to stop bleeding.


That's about six layers of paper towel and several turns of tape that's holding my finger together. Luckily it wasn't my middle finger, or else I would've had a hard time driving! Anyhow, about the time we got my injuries tended to, we decided that it was time to take a break and get some pizza and wings to go with our beer.

The only really good pizza that delivers to my apartment complex is Pie Town--the Chicago-style joint up on Sunset and Green Valley Parkway. Not only do they have excellent deep-dish Windy City-style pie, but their wings are the best I've had in all of Vegas. The house special recipe of medium wings with teriyaki and BBQ are damn tasty! We were looking forward to some of that. But as many times as we called, we couldn't get anyone to answer the phone. It pissed us off, so after about a half hour or so, I hit the junk drawer and brought out a stack of other delivery menus that have been hung on the front door since I moved in. We opted for Napoli, instead. It's a decent place--I'd eaten there a few times back in the day, as it's right next door to Chilly Palmer's, the bar I used to hang out at back when I was a pit critter. Their pizza is decent, but their wings aren't even close. Still, it's not too bad.

On a sad note, we have since learned that Pie Town has gone out of business. That really sucks, because it was the only decent deep-dish pizza out here on the east side. That means that now, if you're in Vegas and want good Chicago-style, you'll have to haul your ass over to Amore on the west side. Luckily Grimaldi's is still King of the Pizza Universe, and is relatively close, even though they don't deliver.

Once we sat down to eat, we decided to watch last week's coverage of the Main Event of the World Series of Poker that I'd recorded on Tuesday night. And who's mug turns up on TV? None other than my buddy AC--he dealt that hand that knocked out Greg Mueller:

Yup, that's him there on the left. Neither one of us had seen the coverage, but he had said that the ESPN cameras were at his table recording the hand when it went down. So we took a few pics of the screen shot, and I think he's using it as the wallpaper on his phone now. Pretty cool, though.

Anyhow, once we had our fill of pizza and wings, we got back to the task at hand. After much swearing and consternation, we finally got the top piece attached to the main body of the wine rack, but it was a cast-iron bitch. While AC was tightening down all of the attachment screws, I went to work on the second glass door. I ended up having to carve out a good chunk of wood that was blocking the path of the glass in it's grooves, but once I figured out where it was catching, it was easy enough (for the longest time, I was getting pissed because I thought the door wasn't put together on the square, but I was wrong). I was much more careful installing the glass the second time around, and I managed to keep the rest of my blood on the inside where it belonged.

I'm a karate-man. I bleed on the inside!

Of course, while we were doing our various projects, there was much smack-talk to be heard. AC had screwed up the adjustable shelves and had to take the pliers to get the pegs back out on one side. I was like Dude--how dumb do you have to be to not be able to count to three? (the number of holes down from the top).

His reply-- Shut up. I'm not the one who's bleedin'.

Heh. So in spite of the injuries and frustration, we still had a few laughs and finally got the damn thing put together--we moved it into place at 4:30 in the afternoon, then picked up all the packing materials and hauled the boxes and trash out to the dumpster. It took all afternoon, but we got it done. AC then headed back over to his place, and I got on the computer to check Doc Al's flight status on Flightview.com.

I was picking him up at the airport, and his flight was supposed to land an hour later--giving me plenty of time to shower, get dressed, and wash the truck before heading to the airport. Well, that was the plan at least. But Flightview showed that his plane was early and due to land in about 13 minutes.

Holy shiat!

So I jumped in the shower, shaved, and just about the time I toweled off, I got a text message from Doc. I'm on the ground, but not at the gate yet.

I called him back and said I'd be a little late, as I was wearing nothing but my goatee at the moment. I got dressed as quickly as I could and headed over to the airport. I'll get to that story later this week. In the meantime, the booze cabinet, and my apartment, sat empty all weekend. I finally got it stocked and functional this evening while watching the football game.

Here it is:


By the way, I'm down to just 39 bottles on hand. Time to get over to Lee's and do some shopping.

Mikey

Just Crawling In...

Hey Gang!

What a long strange trip it's been... I just walked in the door, having spent the past three nights living like a drunken tourist down at the MGM Grand. Honestly, that was not the plan for the weekend when I got up on Friday morning, but trying to stop it from happening would've been like trying to stop the sun from rising in the east.

I'm unshowered, unshaved, my suitcase smells like an ashtray, all the Benjamins in my wallet have been replaced by Jackson, Hamilton, and their ilk, and my body feels like I've been on a Lindsey Lohan-esque bender for a week. My system is as worn down as the battery on my cell phone.

Seriously, 72 hours ago, I had no idea what I was in for.

But I'll have all the details later, once I put together all the clues from my digital camera and credit card receipts. Right now, I need to hit the shower, the medicine cabinet, and the pillow, because lord knows we spent enough time hitting the bottle.

Out for now--

Mikey

Didn't Do A Damn Thing On Thursday

The booze cabinet, like so many symphonies, remains unfinished. Hell, it actually remains unstarted. But that's because I didn't do a damn thing all day yesterday except read A Cold Bleak Hill, all 500+ pages, from cover to cover. Ok, well, I kinda remember getting up at some point to fix a chicken salad sandie and an iced coffee, but seriously, that was the limit of my exertions for the day.

But I only indulged my laziness because my buddy AC offered to come over today and help me put the booze cabinet together if I would buy the beer. He couldn't do it on Thursday, but said he was free all day on Friday, so I gladly accepted his offer. Besides, I got a bunch of Amber Bock and Michelob Lite in the beer fridge already, and construction projects like this are much more fun if two people are working on them instead of just one.

So that's what I'm doing today. He's coming over at noon, and I'm hoping we get it knocked out in an hour or so.

Later this afternoon, it's off to the airport to pick up Doc Al--a good chunk of the March Madness buffoons are in town this weekend, and Angy's got another pimped-out terrace suite at the MGM Grand, so we're gonna be partying like the Old Farts Next Door tonight. Then Dougie arrives on Sunday, so besides copious amounts of booze and football, there will be some downtown-style poker going on this weekend.

In the meantime, I've got a pot of coffee to drink and a dishwasher to unload. Y'all have a lovely weekend. Tonight, as I'm drinking Angy's rum, I'll think of you all and pour some out in honor of all my homeys who couldn't be here...

Mikey

Got My Work Cut Out For Me

So, the rest of the booze cabinet arrived today, but not without a little bit of anxiety on my part. You know how I said that the FedEx man always got here before 1:30? Well, around 1:45, he still hadn't showed up, their tracking website was no help, indicating that I'd taken delivery the day before, and the 800-number only repeated, electronically, the exact same thing the website said (I never figured out how to get through to a live human being). As far as they were concerned, I was no longer a customer awaiting a package--their work was done.

Just about the time I sat down to the keyboard to go on a rant, there was a knock at the door. Woot--FedEx man! I told him that I was starting to worry, because he was a half-hour later than usual--'Sup with that? He laughed and apologized, and was kind enough to lift the dishwasher-sized box across the threshold for me. It weighed a ton.

I set about attacking it with my utility knife, and I swear, it took a half hour just to get everything unpacked, unwrapped, inventoried, and organized. My dining room now looks like the staging area at the New Yankee Workshop, with Styrofoam and cardboard all over the place instead of sawdust and power tools. Yep, it's gonna be a an all-day project putting this beast together. There must be about thirty different pieces of wood and about three pounds worth of screws and hardware, not to mention the glass. So far, all I've done is get everything ready to go and tried to gather up all the packing materials into as small a space as possible.

Oh, I'll start putting it together, probably right after I hit the [Enter] button on this post, but I doubt it'll be finished before tomorrow afternoon. I've got to go to bed in a couple of hours, just because I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night, and I've probably got another all-nighter ahead of me. But before I can do anything that involves a screwdriver or an allen wrench, I've got to hit every piece of wood with a damp cloth, just to clean off all the dust. That'll probably take a half hour all by itself.

So, y'all probably won't hear from me again until I get this thing project completed. Of course I'll post pictures. And then once I get my dining room table and my new headboard, maybe I'll do a Cribs-style video walk-through of the finished bachelor pad. Before I can do that, however, I'll need to get my hands on a new pimp goblet and a Louisville Slugger bitch-be-cool stick.

Mikey

O FedEx, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

While I *should* be knee deep in packing peanuts and cardboard detritus, I suddenly realize that I'm the proud owner of half of a new booze cabinet.

Early this morning, when I got home from work, I checked the tracking status on FedEx's website, and saw that my latest purchase had arrived in Phoenix last night, and that my delivery date was rescheduled from the 21st to the 22nd. Of course... But then when I woke up a couple of hours ago, I checked it again, just out of habit, and there were two updates. One said that the shipment went 'out for delivery' here in Henderson at around 8:00 am this morning, the other one said that it had left the Phoenix facility an hour later, at 9:00. WTF? That's some serious time travel there, Lou...

Man, that don't make no kinda sense, I thought to myself.

I figured there was no way I'd get my cabinet today, and that the delivery status was just a farkup at FedEx. So I made myself a chicken-salad sammie and settled down in front of the tube for some quality ESPN time. My sister Amy called me about that time, and we chatted for a half hour or so. She, having resigned from her job yesterday, has plenty of free time this week, so we did some catching up.

But then there was a knock at my door, and I thought No way, this can't be the FedEx guy, but every time I've gotten anything delivered from them, he always shows up around 1:30 in the afternoon. Still in my boxers, I answered the door, trying to decide if I wanted it to be my new cabinet or maybe the hottie from down at the rental office, because that's how a good porno would start out...

Well, it turned out to be the FedEx guy, so even if it were the porn scenario, I'd be an unwilling participant at the very least. Anyhow--there was a huge box leaning on against the wall and I signed for it. He picked it up to hand it to me, and I thought Hmmm, either I've been eating waaay too much spinach lately and now have Popeye strength, or this box does *not* weigh 168 lbs.

I asked the delivery man if this was all he had for me, and he pointed to a sticker on the side of the box and it said 001 OF 002. I told him of the conflicting messages I saw on the tracking website, and he said that I'll be seeing him again tomorrow.

At first I was a little pissed, but thinking about it, I guess it's no big deal. I just wish they would've told me that it was coming in two different shipments. And as much as I'd love to get started putting the thing together, I think I'm just gonna wait until all the parts get here. So while I may have been a little irritated at first, on the other hand, I've got to give them mad props for indulging my natural tendency towards procrastination.

Once it finally arrives in full and it's all put together and loaded up with booze, I'll post a picture or two.

Mikey

Because A Handful Of People Have Asked...

I'm surprised at the number of people who have asked me what a 'lift-top' coffee table is. I thought everybody knew, but I guess they're not as common as I thought they were. So here are a couple of pics so you can get the idea. The first one is the coffee table in it's natural, undisturbed, state:



This second picture is a photo of the top lifted so that I can pretend I'm eating at a counter, or even better, bring the laptop out and use it as a writing desk from the comfort of the couch.


If you look closely, you can see that it looks like it has a drawer in the middle, but that's just a decorative facing. However, you can store stuff inside, you just have to lift the top to get at it. I guess it'd be a good place to stash stuff like weed or Playboys, I mean, if you're into that kind of stuff.

And you'll notice that I've got a set of four coasters deployed--those were a gift from Doc Al awhile back.

Anyhow, I remember the first time I encountered a lift-top coffee table. I was dating this chick named Corrine, and I thought she was a keeper at first--she was absolutely loaded, with a great rack (the were real and spectacular), and she's the one that got me turned on to Jimmy Buffett and Captain Morgan--but the spare room just for her shoes should've been a red flag... Anyhow, she had a table like this in her living room, and we utilized it back in 2000 to watch the Rams win the Super Bowl. We even cracked open a bottle of leftover Y2K champagne at the end of the game to celebrate. Ah, memories...

But, although all my buddies warned me, I was the last person to realize that she was a bit kookie and that relationship died an ignominious death. (I went over to her place at 3:00 in the morning one night, and her ex-husband answered the door in his boxer shorts, so that was the end of that). A few months later, she up and moved to Indianapolis with some other dude, and that's the last I ever heard of her. But I never forgot about her kick-ass coffee table, and I've wanted one ever since.

And now I have one. But even though I may find another rich girl with a nice rack, I don't think we'll be using it to watch the Rams win the Super Bowl anytime soon, though...

Mikey

Ten Thoughts About Week 2

For having worked on Sunday afternoon, I still managed to watch an awful lot of football. I mean, I've got two games going at home, and there are eight or ten TVs in the poker room, plus the dozens they have in the sports book, so I got to see a whole lot of action. So I'll offer up a few thoughts on my hours spent watching.

• I worry about the Steelers. They have no running game, and apparently, no kicking game either. With their best defensive player out, also, the future doesn't look so bright. On the other hand, I can't confirm it, but it looks like they may have ditched that god-awful mascot, Steely McBeam. Word is that he's making a decent living on the Village People reunion tour, however.
• Did y'all catch the video of Jerry Jones sitting up in the owner's box at the new Cowboys stadium with his thumb up in the air? Kinda reminds one of Caesar at the Coliseum deciding to spare a Christian from the lions.
• Speaking of the Cowboys, is Tony Romo's hairline receding that badly? I mean, the guy is almost never seen without his backwards baseball cap. It's like he's The Edge from U2, who hasn't been spotted in public without a headcover of some sort since sometime in 1988.
• Is the Rams defense that good, or the Redskins offense that bad? I think I'll go with the latter.
• Imagine how cheap car insurance from Geico, Allstate, and Progressive would be if they didn't spend so much goddammed money on advertising. At least it's not a John Cougar song that haunts my dreams anymore.
  
• After two weeks, I'm going with Saints/Ravens in the Super Bowl.
• And I'm going with the Rams getting the first pick in the draft next April, the Chiefs getting the second. Yay, Missouri!
• It looks like the Arizona Cardinals finally woke up. But then again, they were playing against the Jacksonville Jekyll-n-Hydes. I don't recall seeing a line on the Jag's win total at the book before the season started. But I'm guessing that it was less than eight.
• Biggest surprises so far? 49ers 2-0, Titans 0-2
• Plaxico Burress heads off to prison tomorrow for basically being a dumbass. I remember one play during his rookie year when he made a diving catch midfield for a first down, untouched, then immediately got up and started dancing around to celebrate, and spiked the live ball for a fumble. I thought to myself, Holy shiat--what an idiot! and my opinion of him hasn't changed.

If y'all have any other thoughts to add, by all means, let's hear 'em. Maybe I'll do this every Monday, kinda like a condensed version of Peter King, minus the New England bias and the lefty politics. (Although his column today was very good and even-handed).

Mikey

So Close...

Ok, so my college picks were down to the usual standard that I've set this season, both tickets being good for nothing but being used as a coaster on the coffee table by about 1:00 in the afternoon on Saturday. But I had a real chance to cash in on Sunday until the Redskins stunk up the joint and got three lousy field goals against the equally lousy Rams. Don't you just love it when a ten-point favorite--at home--only scores nine points for the entire game, especially against what is arguably the worst team in the league? And I blame myself for this one. Last weekend, I bet on the Rams to cover against the Seachickens, and they lost by 28 points. So I bet against them to lose by ten or more against the Redskins this week, and well, they let me down again, losing by only two. It's double sucky when your team breaks your heart and costs you money.

I guess it wouldn't have mattered anyways, seeing how the Steelers' kicker went all Scott Norwoody--twice--against the Bears, putting an end to all of my if onlys that I was muttering yesterday afternoon. Oh well, what can ya do? It was still a damn fine weekend of football, no matter what. I was highly entertained, and thankfully the networks chose not to make me sit through the Rams/Redskins debacle first thing in the morning.

I may have mentioned it before, but I picked up an extra shift again on Sunday. I had mixed feelings about it. Here I was enjoying the weekends off for most of the past year, and now that football season is here, I've been scheduled the first two Sundays. I hate that. But, I think it's probably not gonna happen again--We've had a big freeroll tournament going on these past two weekends, the preliminary rounds were last weekend, and the final three tables took place yesterday. No more freeroll tourneys, no more Sunday shifts for Mikey.

I got called in two hours earlier than scheduled, but it worked out perfectly--I got some time in at a couple of juicy cash games, then dealt one single tournament 'down'. The final three tables ended in less than two hours, so I didn't have to stay the entire shift. But the beauty of it is when it got down to the final nine players, they decided to chop up the prize money, since it was a freeroll. And the players were kind enough to take several hundred dollars out of the prize pool and give it to the dealers before they chopped up the money--so for my leisurely half-hour I spent dealing in the tourney, my share was eighty bucks. Gotta love that, because I also did really well for myself at the cash tables. So even though I missed out on a full afternoon of sitting on the couch watching football, I had a damn fine day at work.

The night game was still going on once I got done, so I headed over to the sports book to watch from there. And during the games, they have a hot dog and beer cart set up in the back of the book, with nothing on the menu costing more than a dollar. I spent four bucks on two dogs and two Buds, and enjoyed myself thoroughly for a couple of hours, which was even better because the Cowboys got beat. Who doesn't love that?

Today, I don't have too much on the agenda except to get my dining room completely cleared out. It's been kind of a dead zone since I moved into this place back in May. The only thing I have there a big six-foot long indoor-outdoor utility table, kinda like the ones they use at church socials, pushed up against the wall with a checkered tablecloth covering it. And I've been using it as a catch-all for tools, boxes, junk mail, etc. And there are a couple of storage totes underneath it, too. But I've got to take it down and get everything stowed properly because my new booze cabinet is scheduled to arrive tomorrow, and it goes in the exact spot where the table is now.

I anticipate that the assembly of the cabinet will be an all-afternoon affair, probably being even more involved than my TV stand was, so I've got to get everything else done before I tackle that job. Yesterday morning, while I was watching the early games, I put together the nightstand and the lamp, and also hung my wire baskets in the kitchen. I would've done all that last week, but this whole working-five-days-a-week thing really puts a crimp in my outside activities. Well, that, and having five or six books delivered from Amazon doesn't help, either.

So I guess I better get after it--the coffee pot is down to the last half-cup or so and the FedEx guy may surprise me and show up today (word around the campfire is that the cabinet left Nashville three days ago, so it might be here in Henderson as we speak). I may take a break and post again later, but like a 38-yard chip shot at Soldier Field, don't count on it...

Mikey

Going Crazy With Picks

Instead of my usual college 5-teamer, I went a little kooky this weekend. My original intention was to spend my Friday sleeping and reading, then later in the afternoon head over to the sports book and get my picks in.

The downside of the plan, however, is that I'd probably not be able to resist the tractor-beam pull of the poker room and I'd get sucked in. It worked out for me last weekend, as I made a couple hundred bucks in the process and picked up another half-shift, but I really didn't want to tempt fate again.

Luckily, just as I was starting to stir early in the afternoon, my buddy A.C. sent me a text message, asking if I wanted to play in the Friday night tourney over at Joker's Wild. Yep, that sounded like a good plan, and it kept me from stopping by work on my day off. Well, I *still* wanted to hit the sports book, but I figured I'd do it later in the evening after the tournament, as all the Station books are open until 2:00 am on weekends now that football season is here.

So I showered, shaved, got dressed and headed out to Boulder Highway, getting to Joker's about an hour and a half before the tourney started. They've got a pretty good one going on Friday and Saturday nights--$38 gets you $6000 in chips, with no re-buys or add-ons. And if you register at least an hour early, you get an extra $500 in chips. That's why I was there at 5:00 pm for a 6:30 tournament.

A.C. showed up a few minutes later, and once we got registered, we headed over to the sports book to kill some time. It seems that Joker's Wild is part of the Coast Casinos family, and on some of their parlay and teaser cards, they have slightly better odds than Stations offers. So I said the hell with it, and opted to just do my betting there, since I was already in the neighborhood.

The first thing we did was order some grub at the snack bar. To be perfectly honest, for being kind of a dive, JW has a fairly decent snack bar. We got a couple of orders of buffalo chicken fingers, a soft pretzel, and a couple of Cokes, then sat down with a pile of betting sheets from the sports book.

My intention was to just do my normal 5-team college parlay ticket, and maybe just look at some NFL action, but I guess I got carried away. Eddie B had sent me some good 'trending' information to consider, and A.C. loves the teaser cards, and I had a few extra bucks in my pocket, so I dove head-first into the enticing waters of the sucker-bet pool.

This is what I ended up with on four different tickets:





You can clickie on them for full-sized readability, but basically, it's just a bunch of fun picks that have a slim-to-none chance of hitting, but still make for a fun weekend in front of the TV.

As far as the tournament went, I was doing pretty damn well--I got pocket Kings twice, and not only did I get action on them, but they held up both times. I was the chip leader at my table for the first hour or so, but then when it got down to two tables, I donked off a few thousand on second-best hands. Once the blinds started getting ridiculous, I went all in with pocket nines. A.C., that rat bastard, called me with Ace-King, and caught a King on the flop, knocking me out in about 17th place. And then he had the nerve to bum a dollar off of me so he could tip the cocktail waitress for the next round. Like I said, rat bastard. Heh.

But still, we had a good time. He managed to take my chips to the final table, but didn't cash. I stuck around to watch, but after that, I decided to call it a night. I knew that if I were to stay out and play, I'd probably spend a bunch of money and be pissed if I lost. So instead of getting into a cash game, I just came on home.

I'm in for the night, and I'm hoping the phone doesn't ring. Of course I'd be happy to work if they called, but right now, I'm content to just hang out and chill, and maybe go to bed early.

Mikey

Henceforth

I shall never again call my new piece of furniture a 'sidebar'. First of all, it sounds kind of uppity, befitting a person of a much higher social standing, like my friend Hoya. She'd own a sidebar. A bidet. Or a divan. Or a valise. Not me--I'm not *that* far removed from the trailer park.

And second of all, it sounds too much like 'sidecar', which is a wussy way to ride a motorcycle. And the only sidecars you can think of off the top of your head is the one in that annoying AT&T commercial with Bill Curtis or the documentary footage of the Nazis rolling into Poland at the beginning of WWII. Otherwise, the only place you'll find them is in Disney movies. And don't forget about the sidecar cocktail--it's a lot like a margarita, but made with brandy instead of tequila--again, uppity.

So therefore, my new expensive piece of furniture that's on it's way shall not be referred to as a sidebar. It shall simply be known, from this point forward, as 'the booze cabinet'.

That is all.

Mikey

Easy Night

Thankfully, the poker gods rewarded all of my hard work this past week with an easy night. I needed it, because I was up all day on Thursday, and got maybe two hours of sleep before going back in last night. I don't know why, but as tired as I was all day, I just couldn't get to sleep once I went to bed.

I puttered around the house all morning, waiting for the FedEx guy to show up, and he finally did around 1:00 o'clock in the afternoon. The box that my coffee table was shipped in was bulky and unwieldy, so he just knocked and left it leaning up against the wall outside my door, and was wandering off when I answered. I guess he figured that it was so heavy nobody would steal it, the lazy bastard. But I wrestled it across the threshold and fetched my handy-dandy utility knife, and started dissecting the shipping materials. I swear, I think it took longer to unpack the thing than it did to actually assemble it.

Yes, putting it together was a snap--it is very cleverly designed and once I got everything unwrapped and ready to go, I was done five minutes later. Seriously--it was not nearly the all-afternoon-long project that my TV stand was--it went together so easily that even the most inept creature with ten thumbs and no skillz at all could've assembled it in record time. I'd post a picture, but somehow I neglected to vacuum after I was done and the living room and dining room still have bits of packing material strewn about, so it looks kind of messy. Maybe later this weekend I'll snap a photo once I get all of my housework done.

And, later in the evening, I fixed my dinner and used it as a dining table while I watched the Georgia Tech/Miami game. I have to admit--it works much better than a Rubbermaid storage tote. And it looks good, too. And just as soon as I finished eating, I was like, Damn, I totally forgot to use the lift-top feature! Oh well, there's always lunch today. Once I finished my dinner, I watched the game for awhile, but forced myself to go to bed around seven. I tossed and turned for far too long, and I was hatin' life when that alarm went off at midnight.

Like I said, thankfully it was an easy night at the poker table.

After I got out of work this morning, I ran into a couple of gals in the casino, one of them I was sure I'd met before. We talked for a bit, but then ended up at the bar trying to figure out how we knew each other. We never figured it out, but it was a nice visit, right up until the end when she got a phone call and immediately picked up the most hideous ghetto-baby-mama accent I've ever heard. I couldn't believe me ears, and just sat there in stunned silence for a couple of minutes while she got all up in some dude's grill over the phone. Of course, before I left, she gave me her number, and it's sitting out on the kitchen counter as I type this, but I don't know if I'm ever gonna use it... It was a strange encounter, to say the least. I mean, it started off pretty well, but talk about a crash and burn at the end.

Anyhow, I'm just glad that my work-week is kinda-sorta over. I picked up a shift on Sunday afternoon, so my weekend is cut a bit short, but I'll take the work. As far as today goes, I'm gonna get some rest, then head to the sports book later this afternoon so as I can entertain you all with that train wreck of my weekly handicapping. Other than that, it's just housecleaning and reading today.

Mikey

Tool Time, Not Sleepy Time

Man, what a couple of busy days I've had! Yeah, I know all you re-clickers out there were checking back all day on Wednesday, and I apologize for being a slacker, but I was just too tired to write. The last couple of nights at work have just been amazingly busy for me, and it's been kinda weird--both nights it looked like I'd have a pretty short shift when I first got to work, as the games were kinda shorthanded and looked like they'd break at the drop of a hat. But as soon as I sat down, it's like people just started showing up with fat bankrolls and felt like gambling it up. So not only was I busy as hell, but the games were nice and juicy, too. I gotta love that, because it's made it a great week for me, toke-wise.

But as much as I love it, it sure takes it's toll. When I'm the only dealer on the overnight game, I never take any breaks, whereas when I'm working the other shifts, I usually get a break every hour and a half or so. But believe me--I'd rather just work straight through, because if I'm on break, I'm not making any money. I know the natural question that y'all are now asking is "But what if you have to pee?"

Well, luckily, there's always a floorman there, so I just have him jump in for a few minutes while I go and empty my pockets and hit the head (I can hold exactly eighty chips in my shirt pocket, so I've got to get up every couple of hours and empty it, anyways). And the floorman doesn't mind, because while I'm up doing my thing, he deals a few hands and gets to make a few bucks himself. It works out pretty well, actually, and luckily I have a good working relationship with the graveyard floor guys. And it seems like I'm building a good 'book' of regular players that like to come in late at night when I'm working, too. I just hope it keeps up.

Anyhow, the past couple of days, once my shift was done, we've stuck around to go get the steak & eggs special at the cafe. But check this out--before 7:00 am, if paying with my comp points, it's only half-price. And they have some good graveyard specials, too. So it doesn't cost us a dime out-of-pocket, aside from taking care of the waitress, to have a classic Vegas breakfast of steak, eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and the an occasional bloody Mary. It kinda reminds me of the good ol' days when I was a tourist--playing cards all night and grubbin' on free food in the morning.

Ah, Vegas...

But living the Vegas lifestyle is hard work, so I came home and slept all damn day on Wednesday. I wish I could do the same today, but I just checked the FedEx website a few minutes ago and my coffee table is on the delivery truck, somewhere here in Henderson as I write this. So I have to stay up and wait for it to arrive.

With that, I'll be almost fully furnished. Of course, I still want a new dining room table, and they're actually pretty reasonable (especially compared to the exorbitant markup on coffee tables. You'd think DeBeers was running that cartel, too!). I almost bought one yesterday, but decided to wait. And I'm also looking at a new headboard for my bed, too. But again, I put off that purchase. Both are fairly affordable, and I could pick them up at any time. What I've really wanted was some sort of sidebar or liquor cabinet for my dining room. I haven't really mentioned it before, but I've been looking at them for some time. The problem was, they are kinda expensive.

I found the one I wanted a couple of weeks ago, and I loved everything about it except the price tag. But, like the smokin' hot Bulgarian cocktail waitress that works the poker room a couple nights a week, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So yesterday, I just said farkit, buyer's remorse be damned, I'm getting it. So I broke out the overworked MasterCard and said "Ship it!". And I just got the email a few minutes ago--it's also on the truck this morning, but it won't be here until early next week.

So here it is:


Nice, huh? I'm just hoping that the top shelf is big enough to hold the 40+ bottles of booze I have stashed all over the house, because it'd be nice to have 'em all in one place. Regardless, it'll be quite an impressive display once it's all put together and stocked up.

So between that, the coffee table, the nightstand, the reading lamp, and my soon-to-be purchased dining room table and headboard, I've got plenty of assembly projects to keep me busy. And I hope to god that they don't jack up the rent too high next summer when my lease is up, because I certainly don't wanna move this all shiat anytime soon.

Mikey

Wind, Rain, Dark of Night, etc...

I was lied to again. Well, maybe not purposefully lied to, but I was led to believe that my new honey-finish mission-style lift-top coffee table would be delivered today. It ain't gonna happen--now I'm told that it's still in Kansas City, but it should be here on Thursday. I knew that was gonna happen. Ever since they sent me the tracking information last week, I've been checking it twice a day, and it appeared that the damn thing never got picked up from the warehouse. It sat there for four days before it actually got on a truck.

That kinda sucks--I was looking forward to busting out the tool kit and doing another construction project there on the dining room floor. But I guess it's ok, because if you remember that big long to-do list I put together the other day, I didn't get halfway done with it--I still need to vacuum, and the nightstand and reading lamp are still in their boxes, too. Maybe when the table gets here, I'll just go on an assembly spree and spend the putting everything together at once. On the other hand, I did the important stuff--I got the TVs both hooked up so that I could watch two games at once, and I got the new surge protector installed behind the entertainment center. But I'll be glad when I finally get this place completely furnished with everything in it's proper place.

Anyhow... I think summer has finally broken for the year. When I left for work last night, it was a pleasant breezy evening in the high seventies, and when I got out at 5:30 this morning, it was a nice, cool 70 degrees. The first thing I did once got home was turn off the air conditioner, turn on the fans, and open six different windows. Looking ahead, I see that it's still gonna get into the 90's later this week, but nothing in the triple digits. Woot!

Work was crazy busy again last night--it didn't seem like it when I got there, but good lord, what a crazy all-night game I dealt. When it finally broke this morning, I was completely wiped out--but it was another big night for me. And I found out that I had another day added to the schedule again this week (that's five, again!), so it should be a nice, lucrative, but tiring, week. I was so beat when we got done that I didn't even stick around to have a beer and hang out with the floorman. Usually, we go out to breakfast after the shift is over, but I just didn't feel up to it this morning. I had to hit the grocery store for a few essentials, but after a quick stop at the WallyWorld Supercenter, I drove straight home. No beer, no breakfast with the cocktail waitresses, and no nickel video poker. I guess that instead, I'll have a glass of OJ, a bowl of cereal, and entertain myself playing minesweeper for awhile while SportsCenter reruns play in the background.

Mikey