Quick Thoughts After a Weekend on the Couch

I had a very busy week, but this past weekend I got to relax a bit and watch a lot of football, which was very enjoyable. Stealing a page from that hack Peter King, these are my quick-hit thoughts from the past couple of days.

1) I have no reason to be part of the whole Michigan/Ohio State rivalry, but I've been watching the game as long as I can remember. Both Reverend Dave and I have always rooted for Michigan. Even though I pretty much hate Ohio State (for no particular reason), that was a helluva game on Saturday. I'm ok with a rematch in the Fiesta Bowl unless USC wins out.

2) Had Bo died during any other week of the year, it would've been a minor footnote with just a bit of national coverage. Since he passed the morning before the game, it was all-Bo for almost 24 hours on the national news.

3) I thought Alabama would put up a bigger fight against Auburn. They usually do.

4) If I were a huge Boise State fan, I'd be afraid of ever getting an HD tv. My head might asplode...

5) Kentucky is bowl eligible. Their football team.

6) Georgia can't beat Kentucky or Vanderbilt, but they roll over Auburn. What the hell?

7) I have the ultimate solution to the BCS mess. It isn't a plus-one game or an eight-team playoff. It's a four-team playoff. Let the BCS or whoever figure out who the top four teams are--I'd rather the chatter be about who got left out in fifth place than who got left out in third, and that nonsense would only last for a day or two. Out of the 'Big Four' bowls, Orange, Fiesta, Sugar, and Rose, here's how they could still keep them legit under my plan:

All of the numerous other bowls will remain the same--basically post-season exhibition games.

Of the big four bowls, they rotate each year with being two of them hosting the playoff games, and one is the national championship game.

The bowl that is left out gets the highest-tier 'leftover' game, UNLESS it is the Rose Bowl. The Rose Bowl will host the National Championship every fourth year. The rest of the time it goes back to being the Big-10 champs versus the Pac-10 champs, like it always was.

It would eliminate that having almost a whole month with no college football, adding two HUGE games during the holiday week between Christmas and New Years.

A four-game playoff would also eliminate the remote possibilities of coaches pulling their starters during the final game of the year, like the pros do. If eight teams were going to the playoffs, the top two or three teams would be tempted to rest their best players. This way, nobody can take a chance on coasting during the last week and the traditional rivalry games will remain the last game on the schedules, instead of being moved up earlier in the year, which I would imagine would happen if the playoffs were expanded to eight teams.

In a perfect world, all the major conferences would have 12 teams, and a conference championship would have to be played at the end of the season, like in the SEC and Big XII. Only conference champions would be eligible for one of the four playoff spots. But we'd have to work on that. Notre Dame would have to affiliate itself with somebody and subject itself to the conference rules, and the Pac 10 would have to become the 12-Pac (BYU? UNLV? I dunno...)

8) I spent way too much time thinking about #7.

9) I cannot pick NFL games to save my life. I've made VERY few NFL bets this season, and haven't cashed a ticket since like week three or four. I picked Chicago a few weeks ago when they decided to shiat the bed against Miami. I picked the Rams four times, they lost all four games outright. I made one bet yesterday, Indy -1 over the Cowboys. We all know how that turned out.

10) I saw a few of those Rainbow Six: Vegas commercials for the new video game while watching ESPN. The only thing missing from all the cool graphics are the thousands of people standing around getting in my way whenever I try to walk anywhere in this town. Some designer didn't do his homework... Also, that other video game commercial, Gears of War or whatever--I couldn't get that song that they use out of my head, and it only took me about four days to figure out that it was a remake of Tears for Fears' Mad World.

11) Speaking of ESPN, they heap more collective man-love on Donovan McNabb than I heap upon Jack Bauer. Sorry that his knee is jacked up, but since I hate the Eagles, I'm cool with the fact that they'll miss the playoffs this year.

12) Jake Plummer, put a fork in him. He'll be carrying the clipboard in someplace like Buffalo or Detroit next year. I hate to see one of my ASU homies stinkin' up the joint, but he just can't get it done.

13) I think we're looking at a San Diego/Chicago Super Bowl, now that an alien has taken over Marty Schottenheimer's body and has convinced him to throw the ball, even after they get a lead (last two weeks notwithstanding).

14) Does anybody else find it mildly amusing watching Eli Manning and the Giants struggle a bit? Go Jags!

15) Speaking of the Mannings--if you had to drink a shot every time you saw a Peyton Manning commercial on Sunday, you'd be dead of alcohol poisoning by 5pm. Same thing with those god-awful 'This is my country' Chevy commercials.

16) Even though my Rams completely suck and have no chance in the NFC west, nothing makes me happier than seeing the Seahawks get their asses handed to them by the 49ers.

17) Ok, so the Patriots beat a pretty crummy Packers team who was playing without Favre for most of the game. Suddenly all the east-coast talking heads are all saying that the Patriots Are Back!

18) I keep waiting for the Ravens to fall apart, but they haven't. Damn.

19) Yep, Bill Simmons is right--I think Pink is a tranny. Everytime I see her singing the Sunday night game intro on NBC, all I hear is Austin Powers in my head saying She's a MAN, baby... Yeah!

20) LaDanian Thomlinson... Holy shiat. The guy is unbelievable. If he stays healthy he's going to own a lot of records before he's done. And nothing is more enjoyable than seeing him stick it to the Broncos. Ok, maybe seeing him stick it to the Raiders, but everyone does that...

21) Tonight we finally find out what Save the Cheerleader, Save the World means. I thought it was just an ultra-cool tagline up to this point.

22) I'm not an NBA fan by any stretch of the imagination, but I really get a kick out of those "The LeBrons" commercials from Nike. I think a commercial featuring 'Old Wise' watching contemporary hip-hop videos, a la Mystery Science Theatre, would be a comedy gold mine.

23) Hey, no more chatter about whether or not Indy will go undefeated. Now we can start debating just which playoff game they will lose.

24) I still think Miller Lite tastes like piss, but I enjoy the Man Law commercials. Nothing cracks me up like the old dude saying I had scurvy once...

25) I just thought of something... NBC isn't broadcasting a game on Thursday, right?!?!?!? One on Fox, one on CBS, and the night game on the NFL Network, right? That means NO John Madden mumbling about turduckens and all that other stupid shiat we usually have to listen to every Thanksgiving. Woo hoo!!!

26) About that new Lexus that can parallel park itself... Do we really need that? I mean, everyone had already forgotten how to drive once automatic transmissions became available on the cheap, but this has disaster written all over it... How about inventing a car that puts the makeup on the chicks for them when they drive, or one that automatically keeps the car at the same speed as the surrounding traffic when the driver is on the phone. Either that, or it disengages the transmission as soon as the driver dials his cell phone. That would probably be more useful. Also, do I really need a "portable, everyday GPS solution" in my car? Do that many people really get lost while driving around town? Of course, this is coming from somebody who insisted that text messaging was technology moving backwards, so what do I know?

27) For those of you unable to watch Around the Horn during the day, some of the best comedy on TV is J.A. Adande's occasional impersonation of Ron Jaworski. Even the host, Stat Boy, can't help but laugh.

28) I don't think Slash would ever drive a Volkswagen. And me, I'd rather plug my Les Paul into a Marshall stack instead of a Jetta.

29) How about them Arizona Cardinals getting their first win since week one? I truly feel sorry for Matt Leinart signing that long contract. You know he wants to get the hell outta there. Of course the win came against an inept Detroit team, as the Cardinals usually couldn't score with a fistful of hundies in a Pahrump brothel.

30) We had a few Bond girls strutting around serving martinis in the casino this weekend. It almost made me want to cough up nine bucks to go see Casino Royale. But I didn't.

Mikey

Please Just Stop Talking!

I know that a lot of guys think that Jessica Simpson is the Hottest Think to Walk the Earth, but frankly, I just don't see it. Yes, she is mildly attractive, but I had to dig five pages into the Google Image Search before finding a photo of her that didn't make her look like she was put together from spare parts. (Who am I kidding, given half the chance, I'd hit it until the stick breaks...). But talented isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe her, either. I don't listen to anything that could be considered pop music these days, but what I've heard from her, I've been less than impressed with.

But the one thing that really makes my ears bleed is that god-awful pseudo-Southern accent she uses in her Daisy Duke role for the the Direct TV commercial that they just won't quit showing during football games.

Normally, I love a good Southern accent when accompanied by an attractive gal. But hers is so fake and contrived that as an Honorary Southern Gentleman, I must insist that she stop pretending right now. She is not a debutante by any stretch of the imagination--Reese Witherspoon would kick her ass without the help of any of her sorority sisters, and Britney Spears is the original White Trash Hottie, so Miss Jessica needs to get back to just being a ditzy California blonde with huge teeth and big boobs, making us laugh about her views on Chicken of the Sea and Buffalo wings while we sneak peeks at her cleavage. Leave the Southern accents to the experts, otherwise you come off as a no-talent skank.

Oh wait...

Mikey

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Hey Gang... Recent events in the news have reminded me of one of my favorite posts, and in my humble opinion, it was some of the better writing I've done on this website. So I decided to update it and run it out again for those that may have missed it last year.

Here it is, new and improved, originally entitled The Slippery Slope to Old Age:


The more time passes, the closer I get to becoming that grouchy old man who stands on the porch yelling at the damn kids to get off my lawn. I'm only 39 years old, but that's four years beyond the magic 18-35 demographic that seems to carry the most relevancy, at least according to the experts on Madison Avenue.

The most recent I-just-don't-get-it moment came by way of the hype surrounding the release of the new PlayStation 3 game console. Apparently, it is the latest must-have toy on all the Christmas lists this year, and the national news services have done a yeomanlike job of reporting the consumer stampede on retailers as demand is far outstripping supply. As a red-state borgeoisie imperialistic capitalist-dog investor, I offer a hearty congrats to the inventors for the billions of dollars they are going to earn for providing the latest Better Mousetrap to the Ritalin-addled minds of today's yoots. But on the other hand, I ask myself, what's the big deal?

As far as I'm concerned, video game greatness peaked with the 2-D simplicity of Asteroids. Of course, having spent my formative years trying to convince my parents that the new MTV channel was not a Tool of the Devil, Hobie shirts were absolutely not the same thing as OP, and black nylon pants with zippers all over them were the pinnacle of coolness, it's unsurprising that a person like me would have such an affinity for a game that today's kids would consider downright lame.

Today's PS3 runs about $600 retail, if you're lucky enough to find one. But a quick glance at Ebay shows that some have gone for over TWO THOUSAND FRICKIN DOLLARS in the secondary market! Good grief. When I saw that, the first thing that came to mind were Gunnery Sergeant Hartmann's immortal words--You've gotta be shittin' me Pyle! Yeah, good luck getting my folks to spend that kind of jack back in the eighties. Especially for a video game. Hell, my parents wouldn't even get me the electronic Battleship for Christmas--the original version was perfectly adequate, I was told. But two grand for a video game system? Are you nuts? That doesn't even include the cost of the actual games! I don't have kids, but even if I did, I know I wouldn't love them that much. For twenty Benjamins, I'm sure as hell not wasting money on a video game--even for myself. Maybe a box of Cuban cigars, a couple bottles of rum, another tattoo, dinner at Delmonico, and perhaps a new subscription to Girls Gone Wild. Clearly I've become a more responsible consumer as I've matured.

For the Ebay price of a PS3, you could get almost eight thousand chances to enter your initials as one of the Top Ten players on Asteroids. (And who among us never had the temporary alias A.S.S. after cracking that list???) Even the most uncoordinated buffoon could get to level ten and beyond with that kind of investment, and no 'cheats' would be needed. And with the PS3, you're just sitting around on your ass in the basement for days on end. At least Asteroids had some social aspect involved--there were always other players around, and like a saloon pool table, your quarter sitting in line meant that 'you got next'.

My favorite machine was located at La Jolla Skate Village in Harvester, Missouri--the Saturday night social center of the universe when I was in junior high. All that was needed (besides parents willing to provide transportation) were three bucks for admission and skate rental (if you owned your own skates, you were clearly gay), a couple more bucks to cover pizza and cokes, and a few quarters for the Asteroids machine for when that inevitable awkward moment arrived and the lights would dim, a Journey ballad would start playing, and the DJ would make the dreaded announcement-- Couple skate, couples only... Since I never wanted to suffer the humiliation of Pam Epperly rejecting my offer to take a few laps around the rink holding hands, that was always the time I practiced making the cosmos safe from large electronic rocks and small ufo's.

I remember another time my buddy Brad Bateman and I had made $20 apiece doing some sort of odd job or another, and talked his mom into dropping us off at the arcade for the afternoon. We played Asteroids the whole time. Several hours later the money was gone and we had to endure a lecture for the entire ride home about wasting all of our money playing video games. Telling her that we spent some of the money on a box of donuts and a couple of Cokes--so technically we didn't waste it *all* on video games--didn't seem to make a difference in her eyes. Damn kids--we didn't have any idea how long it took to make twenty bucks back in the Fifties when she was a teenager...

Even after we got driver's licenses, going to the video arcade was still a favorite after-school pastime. And when one of my buddies actually got a job at the arcade, well, it was Free Game City! Sometime later, we stopped going to the skating rink and the arcade and just started hanging out at the mall, able to shop at Chess King and buy zipper pants with our own money, without the parental disapproval.

Atari even released a home version of Asteroids to play on your tv (well, not the tv at my house--we still had Pong), and a buddy of mine was one of the first to get it. Unfortunately, it was such a horrible spinoff of the arcade original (what the hell was up with all the squares?) that a week later it met it's demise in the back yard courtesy of a pack of firecrackers after we'd run out of model airplanes to destroy.

Anyhow, the world is changing, and it's leaving people like me behind. I've tried playing video games with my nieces, but they all seem pretty senseless. Case in point--the snowboarding game, Tricky--you don't have to do anything, the game does it all. If you didn't touch a button after you've started down the hill, you'd still get to the bottom of the hill eventually. Speaking as someone who's actually tried to make it to the bottom of a hill on a real snowboard, that's not how it works in real life. There's a little more effort involved. I'm not saying there's no effort to become proficient with today's video games, but I'm pretty sure that asteroids don't split up on their own out in space, that's all.

Even after Asteroids popularity started to wane, I dabbled with the other classic video games for a few years. I was a sucker for Galaga and Tempest, and was infuriated with the difficulty of Defender/Stargate. Donkey Kong and Pac Man were fun in mixed company, and I even thought Joust was pretty cool, but I could see the handwriting on the wall because it was so popular with the Dungeons & Dragons geeks. I just knew that if I ever started playing that game on a regular basis, Pam Epperly would never skate with me.

Turns out, she never did. She moved to Florida before then end of eighth grade. And once that distraction was gone, I was unbeatable.

Looking back, I'd gladly trade a couple of those top-ten scores for a few laps around La Jolla holding her hand and listening to Who's Cryin' Now. I'm sure she's an uber-milf now, and I've discovered that there are much better ways to score than just with video games.

Mikey

Will Write For Vices

While browsing my comments section from a recent post, I stumbled upon somebody named Diana who took issue with the fact that I have an Amazon Honor System tip jar on my site, saying she didn't know how I could justify asking for money for rum and cigars when she had to work to support her vices.

Well, I got news for you, Diana, I gotta work to support mine, too!

I have a regular full-time job that allows me to meet my obligations, save a little money, and retire a bit of old debt, but lately not much else. Comparing pay stubs to last years W-2's, it looks like full-time dealers at my casino are on pace to make about eight grand less than last year. So while times are definitely good, things are just a bit tighter than I'd prefer. No big deal. Compared to the very Lean Times of 2001-2003, I'm living in tall cotton!

But enough about that.

I have lots of hobbies to keep me occupied--reading, sailing, shooting, and the one I spend the most time on--writing. The best thing about writing, besides the fact that I actually enjoy it (most people are the polar opposite), is that it's dirt cheap! It doesn't cost me a dime, which cannot be said for sailing to Catalina for the weekend, or going down to the range and blasting away at paper targets.

As far as writing is concerned, I've always done it--I started in high school with a Creative Writing class and I knew I had a smidge of aptitude for it when the teacher told me that while I was far from being her favorite student, I was most definitely her favorite Student... I knew exactly what she meant. Once I got to college, I also had a fantastic writing instructor in Freshman Comp and I pulled an 'A' in the class that pretty much everyone else hated.

I also kept a daily journal from 1986 until about 1995 or so, and when I go back and read some of the stuff I wrote, it absolutely makes me cringe. More than a few times I've been tempted to throw all three volumes in the fireplace, but something inside keeps me from doing it, embarrassing as they may be.

So I've been at it for a long time. All the practice has helped, but believe me, I don't think I'm nearly as good at it as some people say. I know my limitations.

But what really got me started was all the free time I had on my hands in 2002 when we were in the throes of the technology bust and it's associated recession. I went jobless for almost a year, so I have a unique perspective on personal finances.

But since I had so time on my hands, I got a lot of reading done, which of course led to lots of writing. I'd never even heard of the concept of a 'Las Vegas Trip Report', and sitting around on the computer one day I stumbled upon the Travel2Vegas.com site and opened the Pandora's Box of the Trip Report section. Well hell, I'd been to Vegas several times, and the adventures with my buddies were almost epic. That was right up my alley!

I figured I could probably throw my hat in the ring, and my first attempt resulted in that 'September Quickie' report you see linked in the left-hand column. I got enough positive feedback and encouragement from that offering, that I kept cranking them out after every trip, and they took on a life of their own.

I also tried my hand at free-lancing, and managed to make seventy-five whole dollars selling a story to a sailing magazine on the first try. That was encouraging.

About that same time, I stumbled into a decent job at Go Daddy Software, learned the basics of website design, and had a corral full of geeks at my disposal who would answer any questions I had. So I built my first website, the original HurricaneMikey.com, with all the different pages--Vegas, Sailing, Poker Night, My Oddball Family, etc... I had fun doing that, but realized after awhile that I preferred just doing a 'blog' style of website.

So then I changed over to this format that you see here. Somehow in the past four years or so, I've managed to build up a core group of regular readers who've been here for the duration. I would say that most of my 'success' came from all of my silly postings over on T2V, and a majority of my readers have migrated from over there.

Now I never set out to make a buck when I started my website. Honestly, I figured that nobody except my family and friends would be the least bit interested in anything I had to say, and most of them be like 'Yeah, whatever...' and then my attempt at internet fame would die an ignominious death.

But somehow along the way, things have taken off in a small way. Hurricane Mikey is no Google or YouTube, but I still get about 450 hits a day, and I've gone well over 100,000 visits for the year. Obviously somebody is interested in what I have to say...

But there are other bloggers out there, with much better websites than mine who I read every day. I used to read a blog by a gal in Texas, who I've never met, named Rachel Lucas. She had a fantastic writing style and excellent commentary. Unfortunately, she's since closed up shop. But back in the day I'd check her site all the time. And she was the first person I ever saw who put a tip jar on her front page, along with blatantly saying "Here is my Amazon wishlist--send me stuff!". Imagine making money and not selling anything...

At first I was amazed at the audacity of it, but America is a great country, and if Paris Hilton can be famous for well, being famous, there's no reason that a gal like Rachel Lucas couldn't get free stuff just for being an entertaining writer.

So the seed was planted.

I thought it was very cool, but figured I couldn't pull it off. But after awhile I had enough people emailing me and suggesting I do the same thing. So the half-hour of my life it took me to set up the account and struggle with all of the html coding was a minor investment.

I didn't think anything would come of it, but in that first week I made about $250. Cha-Ching! Of course, there I was immediately thinking I'd make a thousand a month in perpetuity, but the truth is, after that, reality set in and things have pretty much dried up. Oh, I'll get a few bucks here and there, and if I mention that things are really tight, some generous soul will toss $25 in there, but for the most part, the tip jar just gathers dust now. Nobody has put anything in there in over two weeks.

Do I expect it? No, not at all. Do I appreciate it? Hell yeah! Do I check my Amazon account every day, just in case? Yes I do.

I'd be lying if I didn't think it was pretty cool that folks will donate to something like this. It's not like it's a charity--I'm not out saving stray animals or feeding starving kids in Africa. I'm just providing a little insight into life in Vegas with an odd story or two, sprinkled with an occasional opinion. Apparently, there is some value in that. It's a fun hobby, but it really is a lot of work, and nobody is more thrilled than I am when I get a little material reward here and there.

Do I wish I could make a steady income off of writing? You know I do. Do I have the discipline to do so? Probably not. Unlike some writers, the ideas don't come nearly as often as I like, and if I got myself a job as real writer, then it would become work in the official sense. I guess it comes down to expectations. If I were getting a steady income, I'd have to churn out a quality product on a steady basis. Maybe I'm just not confident enough in my ability to do that. So in the meantime, I do it just because I enjoy doing it, and am always thankful for any remuneration that comes my way.

My meager talents at writing, coupled with the fact that I live here in Vegas, has almost made me a de facto ambassador. I always have folks stopping by my table at the casino and saying hello, most of whom I've never met before. And I also get lots of invitations for free drinks and nice meals, the only cost to me being my time and a few stories. And more than a few folks have dropped off a gift of a cigar or two. If I calculated the value of all that I've gotten in the past few years as a direct result of my writing, I'm sure the number would run into the thousands of dollars. And with very few notable exceptions, everyone I've met has been great and the experiences have been a lot of fun. You can't put a price on that.

But the biggest reward so far has been all of the friends I've made. If it weren't for my writing, I would've never met Angy, Dougie, Dawn, Jer, Marty, Doc Al, Terry, Steve B, Sticky, Kelly & Dane, and the list goes on and on... I can't even imagine how dull life would be if I didn't know all of them.

So yeah, Diana, to respond to your comment, I guess I actually *do* work for my vices, no justification seems necessary. It's taken almost four years of hard work to get to the point where I can say Hey Lama, how about a little something, you know, for the effort... And it's true, when I don't write as often, the little extras don't show up. But when I'm cranking out the material regularly, the goodies usually start rolling in.

So hit the tip jar, will ya? My bottle of The Captain is running precipitously low...

Thanks!

Mikey

Is It 2007 Yet?

Hey Gang, I just rolled in from the 'office' and thought I'd make a quick post before trying to catch some sleep before the games get started in a few hours.

I'll do some posting later this afternoon while watching the late game, but in the meantime, it's tough for me to sleep just yet. I got several drunken text messages all night long while I was at work--somebody was attending their first Christmas party of the holiday season--but the final message was the best. Turns out that my favorite person from the Great White North is coming to visit again, this time in January. Woo Hoo! Instead of flopping among the ghetto-fabulous goodness of the third floor handi-man rooms at New York New York, I believe that this time we'll be hanging out with a better class of degenerates down at The Mirage. I'm thinking we'll probably spend all of our time and gambling budget at Treasure Island, though, because that's where we'd like to stay in March.

Details are sketchy and plans are still not finalized, but at least there is something to look forward to between now and the Madness, since I'm stuck here working through the holidays again.

Mikey

Not Much to Say

Sorry for the dearth of postings lately, but as unlikely as it may seem, I just don't have much to say. Well, let me correct that. I haven't had much that's inspired me to sit down at the keyboard for a lengthy session of pounding away like a thousand random monkeys trying to crank out the collected works of Shakespeare.

Oh, I've gotten some email suggestions on things to rail about, but I'm really not interested in perpetuating the chatter about OJ Simpson.

On the other hand, all of the hype surrounding the release of the Play Station 3 has been somewhat interesting, so I'm going to re-run a related post that I wrote sometime back, and it's what I consider some of the better writing I've ever churned out, so be on the lookout for that this weekend.

Overall, I've had a busy week. On Wednesday I met up for dinner with an old friend I hadn't heard from in over five years--she was out here on business and looked me up--and we had a great time catching up. I've also been compiling the information I need to search for a second job and organizing my hunt. I'm being pulled in three different directions at once--I spent good money on poker school, and would like to concentrate on getting some sort of poker job, or, since poker jobs are currently so scarce, I should probably just find another pit job to supplement my income, or, maybe our lower tokes is just a temporary situation and I should just ride it out and do nothing.

Since I've alway been a big fan of doing nothing, well, that's the direction I'm leaning right now, but financial realities are pulling me back to the center and some decisions will have to be made. Soon.

That's the update for now. I hope to write a bunch more this weekend.

Mikey

Simple Pleasures

Back when I lived in Nashville, one of my favorite ways to unwind at the end of the day was to sit out in the backyard by the firepit, watching the lightning bugs while smoking a cigar and sipping a cup of coffee, or if it was warm, maybe a rum drink of some sort. It was always enjoyable, and last night I got to do it again.

We have a huge party patio off the side of the Estate, with a large built-in bbq grill, and a firepit surrounded by wooden benches and tiki torches. But nobody ever uses it.

Recently, however, we've gotten two new younger roommates (I say younger, but they're closer to my age, not geezers like the other two fellas that live here) who also like to utilize the outdoor facilities. Lately, on my days off, we've been using the grill for dinner every time, and we'll just hang out and smoke, talk, and watch the planes on their descent into McCarran just about a mile away.

But we haven't used the firepit until last night. It was a brisk fall evening, the kind of night that would be perfect for an October hayride anywhere else in the country, and I wanted to build a fire. And because of the fact that we live on two acres of land that hasn't been disturbed in over thirty years, chances were good that we'd find a woodpile somewhere on the property. So with flashlights in hand, Travis (on of the new roommates) and I went on a little safari beyond the treeline in the backyard hunting for firewood.

Jackpot! Up against the block wall in the far corner of the property we found about half a cord of wood--uniformly cut trunk sections of some long-dead tree. And it had been sitting there for several years, so it was good and dry. We hauled a few pieces back to the fire pit, and with yesterday's newspaper and a handful of dryer lint, a few minutes later we had a roaring fire with six-foot-high flames using only one match and no lighter fluid.

After the fire was going, we lit up the charcoal grill again. Our other roommate, Brad, rolled in from work about that time, and the three of us hit the kitchen preparing another epic meal.

To say that we had a fine dinner would be a vast understatement. Of course we grilled brats for 'appetizers', then we grilled some huge ribeye steaks, and then foil-packed some Portobello mushrooms and asparagus with butter and spices and threw them in the coals to cook also.

You can't even begin to imagine how great the veggies smelled once we busted open the foil packs. But the steaks were fantastic, too. With all the practice we've had lately, we're getting pretty damn good at grilling them to medium-rare perfection.

I tell you what, there just isn't much better than sitting around the fire eating a great steak and enjoying the fresh air. It was almost like being on a camping trip, except that we had a flushing Roscoe just a few steps away and I didn't have to sleep on the ground. But now my fleece hoodie smells like the ribs at The Salt Lick and my cigar inventory is down a couple more sticks. Even so, it was a damn fine evening in Vegas.

No casino needed.

A barely-dressed cocktail waitress would've been nice, but you can't have everything.

Mikey

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

I don't watch that much tv these days, but when I am watching, it's usually either ESPN or the NFL network.

We've all seen those Miller 'Man Law' commercials, and with all of the football programming I watch, I think I have uncovered a some sort of unspoken law among NFL talk shows.

Apparently, every NFL preview/highlight show must employ a token Annoying Black Man.

CBS has Shannon Sharpe, the NFL network has Deion Sanders (completely unwatchable), and ESPN gets a two-fer with Stuart Scott and Michael Irvin. Seriously, do the fans prefer the whole shuckin' and jivin' act? I don't. Do only retired wide receivers get auditions for these jobs?

Fox (being that eeeevil Republican network) doesn't do that whole Affirmative Action thing, so they're annoying studio host slot is filled nicely by one Mr. Terry Bradshaw. I'll admit, I was a youngster back in the Seventies when he was leading the Steelers to four Super Bowl wins, but I don't remember him riding that Hillbilly schtick to the point of annoyance.

Can't the highlight shows feature four guys that don't need to try so hard to get laughs? If I were King for a Day, I'd replace Michael Irvin on the NFL Countdown crew with Dan Fouts, making the panel consist of Berman, Steve Young, Dan Fouts, and Tom Jackson. That would be an enjoyable and informative show. Currently, I change the channel every time Irvin opens his yap, and sometimes I forget to go back.

Maybe I'm just grouchy because of the changes this year that took away the best football show on tv--NFL Primetime with Chris Berman and Tom Jackson. In it's new incarnation with Stuart Scott as the host, it is a complete train wreck of a program.

Because I'm watch less NFL programming, I'm certainly less informed, and my lack of success at the betting window this year reflects that.

I blame the networks!

Mikey

Six Figures

Wow. I just found out that as of this morning, this website has had 100,000 hits since I started tracking it last February.

Amazing.

That works out to about 3700 hits from each of my 27 readers!

Mikey

New Car, Caviar, Four Star Daydream...

I'm soooo happy that tonight is my 'Friday' night. It's been a long week, and luckily money improved a bit this time around--I think I made about $150 more this past week than I did last week. Maybe I'll have a little more spending money after the next paycheck.

But I'm all about debt retirement and killing the Interest monster, so I'll probably pay a little extra and be poor again. Oh well, I've got no particular place to go, and all Vegas-style buffoonery is on hold until Doc Al gets here next month.

Damn, if I only had a time machine, I'd go back to 1989 and tell myself that those student loans would be better spent buying stock from all those nerds in Seattle and their new Microsoft outfit, instead of going to Jackson Hole every weekend and canoeing, camping, and river-rafting with my buddies. Oh yeah, and I'd also tell myself to never even consider going to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University for three semesters. Easily the worst decision I've ever made. I'm *still* paying that shiat off.

Ugh. It's depressing to think about, so we'll move on to a more interesting subject.

I see a lot of interesting things while working in a casino, and the people watching is usually a highlight. This past weekend was no different. I saw a Beach Crazy-wannabe and her friend getting liquored up and needing help up off the floor a few times. I saw a guy hit a slot machine for a $40,000+ win, then come to my table where I promptly relieved him of over a thousand of it in less than ten minutes. I saw a fellow dancing to the beat of his own, and obviously different, drummer all night long to the music being played in the bar, which was entertaining for everyone who had the pleasure of witnessing it.

I also saw my fair share of degenerate gamblers.

It always amazes me that people will gamble until their last dollar is gone. It's like it's against the law to walk away with $50. Why not take the money and go home, instead of insisting on going home broke? I'll never understand it. I mean, gambling should be fun, but damn, it's amazing to watch somebody literally insist on losing their money.

Last night I was dealing to a guy who'd made probably about $500 playing Pai Gow at $25 per hand, but he stayed at the table for hours grinding away, giving it all back. Finally, around 1:00 in the morning, he put his last $50 in the circle and said he was going home after he lost that last bit of money.

Hey genius, why not pocket the green chips and salvage a little dignity at the same time?

Of course, a case bet never loses, and he doubled his money. So what did he do? He let it ride, insisting that he'd go home after that hand. So I dealt him a full house. After paying him off on his winning hand and his bonus, he had almost $250. Did he color up and walk with two bills and change? No. He piled it all up, telling me that if he lost that hand, then he'd go home.

To him, going home broke was better than pocketing $250. I'll never understand that mindset. Of course, the next hand I dealt myself three pairs and he finally got his wish and left, broke.

I'm telling you, moments like that remind me that owning a casino is a license to print money! Luckily my 401k is about 20% gaming stocks, so I directly benefit from people who refuse to walk away with money in their pockets.

It gets even better... While I absolutely detest dealing $5 games, the potential for unintended comedy from watching people who lack common sense is treeeee-mendous. Our casino manager decided that instead of all Pai Gow games having $10 minimums or higher, we'd always have one $5 game available to 'create interest in the game'. I can see the reasoning for that, but in reality, as someone who deals at that table for two hours per night, I can tell you that it hasn't created any new interest at all--it's the same low-stakes players that we always have, now just trying to stretch their bankroll twice as long.

But here is the beauty of it. Most of the people that play the $5 game also play the Fortune bonus at $5 per hand also, chasing that once-in-a-lifetime hand, or hoping to get a piece of it with their Envy Bonus if somebody else at the table has a monster. But those hands are rare, and most of the time, the hand results in a push, so they lose the $5 they had on the bonus. But what makes me laugh on the inside is when they win the hand, they still lose their five dollar chip that was sitting on the bonus circle, but then I give it right back to them for their winning hand. In their mind, they think it's a 'push'.

But they don't consider the commission. So for almost every winning hand at a $5 table, it costs them a quarter.

So lets see here...

• If they get no bonus and lose the hand, they lose ten bucks.
• If they get no bonus and push the hand, they lose five bucks.
• If they get no bonus and win the hand, they still lose a quarter.
• If they get a bonus and win the hand (which happens about, I dunno, 5% of the time), they'll average about $17 (rough guesstimate).

Amazing, huh? The actual house edge on Pai Gow is miniscule, but the way people play it in real life gives the casino a HUGE edge.

The lesson here--go long on the gaming sector!

And in an earlier post I talked about how folks should play their regular bet for $15 minimum if they're playing the bonus for $5. Well, the folks in charge are aware of this, and I suppose that's why we *never* have a $15 minimum Pai Gow table--it takes too long to break somebody that way. I've been dealing the game long enough to know that if somebody buys in for $100, and plays the ten dollar minimum with a five-dollar fortune bonus, they won't last an hour unless their luck runs to the statistical anomaly side of the equation.

And no amount of preaching this information can change behavior--gamblers, by definition are irrational--I tried telling my favorite players this "secret" on several occasions, but most people are just too stubborn to figure it out for themselves. They'd rather go broke. So I usually just shut-up and deal. Every now and then I see somebody who obviously gets it, so it's a pleasure to deal to them. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't also derive a wee bit of pleasure from seeing somebody go broke who's playing 'dumb'.

Seriously--there is already a house edge built into every game. Why give your money away faster? True, some would say the difference doesn't matter--but if you're gonna go broke, why not go broke in three hours instead of just one? Because, kiddies, as far as Pai Gow is concerned, the longer you sit at the table, the better your chances of catching that monster 5-Aces or 7-Card Straight hand with it's huge payoff. And like I said earlier--you don't have to leave broke, but unfortunately, most people behave like they don't have that choice.

And the casinos laugh all the way to the bank.

Comedy? Yep. Tragedy? Absolutely. I guess that's why it's such good Drama. And I've got a front-row seat for it every night.

Mikey

Savior?

It's a commonly held belief that Steve Wynn singlehandedly made Las Vegas into the economic powerhouse that it is today, bringing over 30 million visitors and billions of tourist dollars a year to our wonderful city.

It's not just a belief--it's a God's honest fact. Before his Mirage opened in 1989, Vegas was withering on the vine, attracting nothing much beyond the occasional leisure suit-wearing conventioneer, while half-assed properties like the Frontier and the Riviera competed for the dwindling share of gambling dollars, now that Atlantic City had jumped into the casino gaming market.

Steve Wynn parlayed a small stake into a billion-dollar empire, literally rebuilding the city skyline with places such as The Mirage, Treasure Island, Bellagio, and now his namesake resort and casino, The Wynn. He got the ball rolling in 1989, and others have followed suit. The Vegas of today exists because of Steve Wynn--is there any doubt that places like the Luxor, New York New York, Paris, Mandalay Bay, and Monte Carlo would've never been built had there been no Mirage?

For those of you that pay attention to all that happens in the Vegas world, the hot button issue of the past several months in this town has been Steve Wynn, and his decision to give his floor supervisors a big raise.

No big deal, right?

Well, the money isn't coming out of his pocket--he decided to take money from the dealer's toke boxes to pay his floor people, instead of paying them with actual casino money. On the surface--and from a dealer's perspective--it was a completely dickheaded thing to do. Dealers are the ones working for and earning the tokes, not floor supervisors.

However, the 800 pound gorilla that's driving the situation was the fact that the floor people's salaries were between 50-60K per year--not bad, considering that it's about the easiest job in Vegas, but not that great either. But the problem is that the dealers at Wynn, who make about $7 an hour from the casino, with tips were averaging about $90,000+ per year. Yes, the Wynn casino has some great tippers playing there. But one can easily see the inherent problems with the frontline troops making almost double what their immediate supervisors make.

First and foremost, eventually you'll end up with a shortage of floor personnel--dealers won't want to move "up", and the floorpeople you already have will leave for greener pastures once an opportunity presents itself. But even more obvious, you'll inadvertantly create a sense of entitlement amongst the dealers, human nature being what it is, and that will only create friction. Even in a casino like mine, I see it every week. When our dual-rate floor people come in and see that the dealers had a big toke night the day before, they get pissed because they were standing floor instead of pitching the cards, and lost out on fifty or a hundred dollars or more.

(That's one reason I have no desire to become a dual-rate. I think ours get paid $160 per shift, which is $20 per hour, but as a dealer, if I make more than $104 in tokes per night, then it'd be a pay cut for me to stand floor. And we almost *always* make more than that. For example, two nights ago we made $179 in tokes, and adding the $56 in wages I got from the casino, that put my earnings $75 above our dual-rate floor supervisors for the night).

So even on a small scale, I can see the friction. I can't even begin to imagine the bitching I'd hear if I were making $200 more per night than the guy standing behind me wearing the suit. So that's the world we live in--sometimes the dealers, because of tokes, make significantly more than the lowest-level supervisors. And the casino owners certainly don't want to take money out of their bottom line to pay people, so that brings us to Steve Wynn's recent decision forcing the dealers to split a portion of their tokes with the floor supervisors.

When the announcement came at the Wynn, the neon telegraph put the word out immediately, and the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth could be heard all over the valley.

It's illegal!

It's not fair!

If he wants them to have a raise, HE should pay them, not me!

Lawsuit time!

When I first heard about it, I thought, Gee, that's interesting, but it doesn't affect me in the slightest.

Of course, the uninformed masses of my fellow dealers treated the news like proof that the Four Horsemen were saddling up. It was impossible to sit peacefully in the dining room and enjoy my dinner without some knucklehead spouting their views--usually some genius pronouncement along the lines of If only we were unionized, that shit would never be able to happen! or How long before they do that HERE???

Morons.

First of all, taking a percentage of the dealer tokes would never fly at my casino. The disparity between dealer income and floorperson income just isn't that great. Yeah, it's a bit of a pay cut on most nights, but a lot of floorpeople wear a suit because they're sick of dealing and putting up with all of the bullshit that a dealer has to put up with on a nightly basis. So to them, the peace of mind is worth it. And once you move beyond 'dual-rate' status, your pay is increased--the more experience you have, the higher your salary. So there really isn't any justification for that kind of toke splitting.

Second of all, it seems that my employer is deathly afraid of unionized employees. A huge portion of every new employee's orientation is geared towards all the (truthful) disadvantages of having a union. And we're reminded of it on a regular basis. Personally, I myself am staunchly anti-union, and always have been (for reasons I won't discuss here or in my comments section, so don't try to stir the pot), and would never even consider joining one.

However...

If The People In Charge decided that effective immediately, the floor supervisors would get 10% of the toke pool, the first thing I would do is sign a union card, encourage my fellow dealers to do the same, and then start looking for another job. Several of my co-workers have told me that they'd do the same thing.

Of course, I say that because I'm not making $95,000 per year while sitting on my ass dealing Pai Gow to chain-smoking Filipinos. I'm making somewhat less than that--I'm not bound by the Neon Handcuffs, so I have a few more options. Basically Steve Wynn said to his dealers, Suck it, bitches. Where else are you going to go?

And it's true. Nobody else makes that kind of money. I know a few of the dealers at Wynn, and as soon as they figured out what they'd earn on a 'regular' basis, a bunch of them bought expensive cars and houses with ridiculous mortgages. Good for them--I wish I could've been in the same position. But when the announcement came, it caused some sleepless nights. (One thing I learned the hard way back in the tech boom days--if good money comes too easy, it never lasts. And making almost six figures for dealing blackjack seems too easy...)

As a dealer, I still believe it was a dickheaded move on Steve Wynn's part. But as a normal human being with a modicum of common sense, it's hard for me to feel too sorry for a bunch of dealers making that kind of money at such an easy job.

I know, my position is somewhat inconsistent. When they came for the Wynn dealers, I remained silent... But the truth is that dealing, for me, is just a means to an end. It's not who I am, it's what I do. I could easily be doing something else. But right now, the money is good, the work is enjoyable, my bosses are decent, and my complaints are minor. I've worked harder for a lot less money.

Taking the ultra-long view, however, the situation is somewhat troubling.

Other casinos are looking at it as a low-cost (NO cost) way of paying their floor supervisors. I think that the situation at the Wynn is unique just because of the huge money involved. I see the numbers at other casinos, and only the dealers at Caesars Palace come close to making Wynn-type of money on consistent basis. It could never happen at Caesars, being part of the Harrahs universe, because then Harrahs would have to implement the same policy at all of their properties, and that just has disaster written all over it. With all of the grind-joints they own, plus the fact that their average dealer probably makes around $55k per year it would signal the end of table games in Vegas, which in turn would signal the end of Vegas.

The end of table games?

Yep. Think about this. If every casino started implementing Wynn's policy of stealing tokes to pay the floor supervisors, what is the natural progression?

First of all, just like a call-center, the front-line employees would be doing everything they could to 'get off the phones' and get a support job, meaning that eventually, you'll run out of long-term dealers--the backbone of any casino--the guys who've been dealing for 20 or 30 years and have seen it all, the people who make the floor supervisors jobs easy. Few people will want to deal anymore--they'll just use it as a springboard to another job, dues to be paid, if you will.

Talent always follows the money.

In turn, this will cause customer service to suffer, and tokes will go down even more. Eventually the only people willing to deal table games will be those non-English speaking folks right off the boat willing to work for bad wages because they don't yet know any better. This will drive players away even further.

You'll then see casinos reacting to the slowdown in table game revenues by starting to take out a few tables here and there and replace them with much more lucrative slot machines.

Eventually, the tipping point will be reached and some casinos will go to almost exclusively slot machines, (Harrahs, pick up the white paging phone...) and the few table games they have will be high-limit only. Places like Mermaids will become the rule, not the exception. The current generation of video-game addicted youths who have no social-interaction skills won't mind that everything is slot machines and video poker (hence the popularity of games like Rapid Roulette). Once that is the accepted norm, you can start nailing the coffin shut on Las Vegas. Seriously--who's going to come to Las Vegas if it's all slot machines? The city will spend a generation in the wilderness, just like it did from the seventies to the late eighties.

It'll take that long before somebody realizes that table games are a needed commodity here in Vegas, and the people standing behind the green felt need to be dealt with fairly.

Maybe then, some visionary casino developer will ride into town, breathing new life into a once-great city with a new casino concept that attracts new players and creates a buzz. Let's just hope that this time around he pays his floor supervisors a decent wage once he makes his first billion.

Mikey

PS. According to the latest issue of The Dealers News, since Wynn implemented his new toke policy, the dealers are only losing about $25 per day, so it seems to be working, according to the blurb. Basic math, however, tells me that it works out to $125 less per week, $500 less per month, and $6000 less per year. Anybody out there wanna take a six grand pay cut per year and give it to your boss? Anyone?

Because You Asked

For those who don't know who Sticky is, here is one of my favorite pictures of her.


Unfortunately, that's probably all I'm gonna have until next March.

Mikey

First I Was Afraid...

It's Friday, and that usually means that I spend a good portion of my day figuring out my picks for the weekend's football games.

Last weekend, I went 6-1 in college (only losing when Kentucky rolled through Georgia like Sherman marching to the sea), and so feeling pretty good about myself, I loaded up on the NFL on Sunday. I went 0-4 in the early games, of course, and thought I'd make it all back by betting on the Bears. Yeah, that went well.

So this week, fresh off of that beating, I'm not making any serious sports bets. Oh, I might take a flyer on a $5 parlay for a lottery-type of win, but as far as my college pool is concerned, I'm like the Cubs in July--not mathmatically eliminated yet, but it won't be long now. And I still have my Stations Pick-the-Pros card to do, with the potential for a $20,000 payoff if I get every game right and come close to Monday night's point total. But I'm not holding my breath for a dream-come-true visit to the window anytime soon where Mr. Bookie man peels off 200 Benjamins for me while All Along the Watchtower plays in the background...

My lack of desire to gamble this week might also have something to do with the fact that I picked up my check stub last night, and after writing all the checks for the bills and essentials, I'm left with a whopping $48 to play with for the next two weeks. Yep, tokes were that bad--plus I left work early two nights during the pay period, once on Halloween to go to a very lame party, and the other time to hang out with Sticky that night we went to the Klondike and such (that was worth it, if only for the comedy gold!). But on the plus side, I retired another $418 worth of old debt, and that's a good feeling regardless of whether or not I have a pocketful of walking-around money leftover. Luckily, there is no buffoonery on the horizon as far as my social calendar goes, so I'll happily hang out around the house during my off time and entertain myself by reading and writing. (But probably not doing too much arithmetic).

I don't want to curse it by talking about it too much, but so far, tokes have thankfully gone up significantly this week, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And one of our favorite huge George's was in again last night playing dice (and will be here through the weekend), and I noticed some very full toke boxes in all three pits last night (Hell, I dropped over $300 myself during my first hour on the Deuces Wild table). Maybe things are improving, but the last two months have been pretty rough.

I've been in much tighter spots before, but like Gloria Gaynor famously said, I will survive!

Mikey

Ye Olde Christmas List

I was talking to Sticky again last night (who am I kidding, we talk every day), and we were commiserating about the upcoming holidays. Due to my lack of both seniority at the casino and disposable funds, I'm unable to make it back to Nashville for Christmas again this year. As much as I'd like to be there spreading holiday cheer and spiking the eggnog at my sister's Christmas Eve party, I'm unable to attend.

It will be a Blue Christmas, indeed.

But all is not lost. We decided to come up with our ultimate Christmas lists and post them online. Of course, they won't be "ultimate" ultimate lists like they publish in GQ or Cigar Aficianado. Nope, the stuff I want is actually reasonable. While a diamond-studded Rolex or a Segway with 20-inch Sprewells would be cool, my tastes are much more practical.

So Santa Claus, if you're reading and feeling especially generous this year, here is my list (and oh yeah, don't use the chimney--the side door is always unlocked...)

1) An 80-gig video Ipod, black

2) An Altec-Lansing In-Motion IM3C portable audio system for Ipod

3) A Motorola cell phone

4) A Dell desktop computer with a 19-inch flat panel display and all the extras.

5) A Canon Powershot Pro Series S3 6MP digital camera

6) A bottle of Pyrat Cask rum

7) One box each of Cuban Cohiba Siglo V's and Dominican Partagas Black Labels

8) Round trip tickets to St. Croix for a long weekend.

9) Tickets to both Ka at MGM and Phantom at the Venetian

10) A bedliner for the truck

11) A Kimber Custom II 1911 .45

12) A $500 gift certificate to Casual Male

13) A portable air-conditioning unit

14) An Executive Suite at Treasure Island for five nights of March Madness.

15) A $500 gift certificate to Amazon.com

16) A refresher sailing course at Seamist Skippers of Marina Del Rey

17) The patience to start playing poker again

18) Pretty much anything on my wishlist

19) Wine glasses

20) But most of all, I just wish I could be home for the holidays. Everything else doesn't really matter. Well, except for the rum... and the cigars.

Mikey

Many Thanks!

I just went out at got the mail this evening, and in it was a box addressed to me. Now, I haven't done *any* type of online shopping in awhile (can't afford to), so it was certainly a surprise. As soon as I got back to the Executive Office here at World Headquarters, I pulled out the pocketknife and broke the seal.

Inside was a ziploc bag containing an assortment of eight different cigars and an anonymous note saying 'Merry Christmas!'.

Very nice!

It's a nice night outside, so I'll probably break that whole no-rum-for-a-few-weeks vow I made in my earlier post, and fire one of those bad boys up.

Also, a couple of people have hit the tip jar in the past week or two and I want to give a special shout out to them--thanks a bunch--it means a lot, especially lately. Tokes are down, bills are up, and things are a little tight right now. But I filled up my gas tank this week with the latest proceeds from the tip jar, so every little bit helps...

Mikey

Day Off

Well, it's Wednesday, and I'm finally enjoying a day off with no distractions, no errands to run, and as a bonus I got plenty of sleep last night. Around ten pm last night I was sitting at my computer, and damn near fell asleep and started drooling on my keyboard. So I went to bed, early for me, and slept all night. I got up early today, and yeah, there are plenty of productive things I *could* be doing, but at this moment I'm wearing the same shirt I had on yesterday and surfing the net, munching on an egg Mcmuffin, and drinking orange juice directly from the carton.

My room is a mess and there is plenty of laundry that needs washing, but my Tivo list is full from the past two weeks, so I've got some quality tv-time ahead of me. Ooooh...and what's this I see on the shelf above my monitor? A box of Junior Mints! Maybe I'll watch some Seinfeld reruns this afternoon, too.

The weather is still pretty nice--sunny and warm out, so tonight my roommate and I are going to fire up the grill again. BBQ chicken and brats are on the dinner menu, perhaps accompanied by a good old American macro-brew.

After the past few weeks, I think I'm going to keep the rum on the shelf for awhile.

Mikey

Aftermath

I, for one, welcome our new Democratic Overlords. Remember, collaborators will have their taxes raised last.

Mikey

At Least Nevada Got It Right

Governor - Jim Gibbons (R)

US Senate - John Ensign (R)

US House of Reps District 3 - Jon Porter (R)

Sadly, our bid to legalize marijuana didn't pass, so like my usual weekly four-team parlay, I fell one game short of cashing in.

I'd offer more commentary, but I'll leave that to the pros. Back to the regular fluff-blogging shortly.

Mikey

The Dark End of the Street

My first day off after six days of work started in typical fashion--I was exhausted, but unable to sleep as much as I'd hoped due to all the noise and distractions that weekday mornings seem to bring with them. So while I was out of bed, I wasn't moving too quickly around the house. It'd been a long month already, with all of my free time being spent running around with friends who'd come to visit.

So there I was, sitting at my computer on Wednesday morning, plowing through my inbox and trying to motivate myself into acting on a very long to-do list, but basically procrastinating getting my day started. I didn't have any plans to speak of until that night, when I would be joining Steve B from DC for dinner at the Pullman Grille down at the Main Street Station.

But then my instant messenger popped up--it was my favorite gal Sticky. I'm always glad to hear from her, so I gave her the cyperspace-equivalent of the What-up head-nod.

The first thing she said was Guess what--I'm coming to Vegas again!

Did you get another free room offer for December?!?!?

No! I'm coming to Vegas tonight! I'm on my way to the airport in two hours! I was *going* to just surprise you, but figured I should let you know... So pack a bag--we're going back to New York New York.

We chatted for just a couple of minutes before both of us went into hyper-drive and started running last-minute errands and such.

Before I knew it, the afternoon had passed and I found myself downtown at Main Street Station waiting to meet Steve B for dinner. Just about the time he stepped off the elevator, I got a text message from Sticky. The Seattle airport sucks.

I knew she was almost here.

While she was changing planes in Seattle, Steve, his buddy, and I were seated promptly and given menus. Steve has eaten there at the Pullman Grille several times and highly recommended the seafood medley appetizer. He also said that since he'd been taking a beating at the video poker machines so far that week, he wanted to take full advantage of his comps and that we should order every expensive thing on the menu.

I really like his attitude.

So, three seafood medleys were ordered, along with a couple of bottles of good wine. The server asked if we would prefer bottled water or regular, and I said Regular--I've been living here long enough to build an immunity.

We laughed a bit and she filled our glasses.

The appetizers arrived a few minutes later--and Steve was right--they were excellent. An escargot dish, and instead of snails, it was filled with crab, shrimp, and lobster piping hot in a creamy sauce. It was very tasty, and along with some warm sourdough bread, it was an excellent beginning to the meal.

The only downside was that every time I took a sip of water, I started coughing furiously. It was awful, so I joked that I'd just have to stick to wine.

Our entrees arrived just as soon as we killed off the appetizers. Steve had filet mignon and king crab legs, while I had the filet and lobster. They came with monster-sized baked potatoes, some sort of vegetable for the life of me I can't remember (carrots maybe?), and a ramekin of drawn butter. We dug in like Homer Simpson attacking a box of donuts. It was excellent. Unfortunately, I took a couple for sips of water and started coughing again and immediately felt sick. I got up to head to the bathroom and only made it to the bar before yacking in the garbage can. I continued to the restroom, making sure I didn't get anything on my sweater, and took a moment to wash up, but I was rather confused about whatever was in the water that was making me sick.

I went back to the table, took a sip of water with no food in my mouth, just to make sure, and sure enough, I started gagging (which was odd--there was no taste to the water, it seemed ok), so I spit it back out, took a sip of wine, and all was fine. Unfortunately, after that episode, I was unable to finish my meal, which was a damn shame because it was really good. I got most of it done, but just couldn't get over the hump. Steve insisted that we get dessert, coffee, and cigars, too, so I indulged further. I had some Key Lime pie, which I enjoyed, along with a coffee and Kahlua, while he went with creme brulee.

We finally called it quits and the tab came to something north of $200. Of course it was comped, but we had to take care of the waitress. I panicked when I realized I had no cash on me--with all that was going on that day, I totally forgot about going to the atm--and wanted to contribute to the tip at least, so I felt like a complete jackass. Steve insisted that he'd take care of it, but damn, I was pissed at myself for such an obvious moment of social retardation. (Thanks again Steve, for a wonderful meal, good conversation, and a lot of fun. I owe you one next March).

After dinner, we said goodbye with plans to get together the next night for some dice throwing and beer drinking, and I headed back to the valet to fetch my truck.

As soon as I got home, I checked with flightview.com to see Sticky's plane enroute using their online radar thingy, and saw that her flight was on time. I finished packing my duffel bag, tossed it in the truck, and headed down to the airport. I found her lurking around at the baggage claim a few minutes later, and after waiting almost 45 minutes for her luggage, we were on our way.

The first order of business was to stop and get some Cokes for the room, as I had a bottle of Crown Royal packed in my bag. Sticky likes the whiskey... After that, it was off to New York New York, where we rolled up to the registration desk about 12:30 in the morning. As we were checking in, we casually mentioned that we'd like a room in a tower other than the Chrysler tower--that's where we stayed two weeks earlier, but it was the longest walk from the front door.

No problemo they told us, they could easily put us in a King smoking room in the New Yorker tower.

Cool.

We got the keys and started lugging everything back to the elevator. When we got there, we realized that our room was on the third floor. That did not bode well. At least it was a quick ride--the previous week we were on the 35th floor.

We opened the door to our room and as soon as we walked in, we both had the You've got to be fucking kidding me expression on our faces. It was a tiny room, sporting a handy-man bathroom with rollbars everywhere (but an elevated throne that Elvis himself would've been proud to die on), and our "king sized" bed was every bit as large as one of those hand-woven blankets you buy in Tijuana for five bucks. Oh, and the view--I can't forget to mention that. Our room was on the inside corner of the hotel facade with nothing but a huge air conditioning duct right in front of our window. If you pressed your head against the glass and looked up, you could almost see the sky. Apparently they weren't too impressed with our previous visit and literally stuck us where the sun don't shine.

We considered going back down and complaining, or at least calling down to the desk and bitching, but, it was a comped room, and we decided that it didn't matter much anyways. So we were content to just trash it here on the internet with our trip reports.

We dropped the luggage, opened the booze, and fixed ourselves a drink, toasting the fact that just 24 hours earlier we were thinking that we wouldn't get to see each other again until March, yet suddenly here we were--back together in Vegas for round two of our Not-Soberfest buffoonery.

After a round or two, it was back down to the casino for a few hands of Pai Gow and a run at the Money Storm machine. Neither were very good to us, and we bled off a few bucks before heading back upstairs to bed a couple hours later.

It was nice not to have an alarm, but when I finally awoke, I felt like I really needed some coffee. I know that Sticky loves to start her days with a tall cup of coffee and some plain Krispy Kremes, so I put on my flip-flops and went downstairs. I found the nearest Starbucks outlet which also sold Krispy Kremes delivered fresh from the shop at Excalibur, so I got us a tray full of goodies and some coffee. Being a nice fellow, I woke her up with 'breakfast' in bed.

We had a really slow start that day--the travelling and staying up late had worn her out, and I was still tired from the long week I'd had. We finally got moving and headed back down to the casino. We stopped at the slot club to activate her $125 worth of free slot play, and then hit the Money Storm machine. We put five bucks in to prime the pump, and with the free play we cashed out with about $120. Not too bad.

We played a little Pai Gow for an hour or so, but again, we couldn't get anything working. The dealer had two pair or a straight damn near every hand. We gave up after awhile and decided to get out of The City.

We found ourselves at Caesars Palace a little while later, and after I cashed in that silly $35 slot ticket I'd been carrying around for a week, we went exploring. We played a couple of machines but got no love. We also walked by Cleopatra's Barge to squeeze her boobies, but eventually made our way back to the valet. Knowing a classy ride when they see one, my truck was still parked out front amongst the Mercedes', Lexus', and even a Lotus.

Mr. Valet man earned himself every bit of that two bucks...

Being low-rollers on a mild losing streak, we were trying to think of places to go that catered to our ilk. Clearly Ceasars Palace was not for us. But driving down Flaming-O, we saw the sign outside of the Westin offering 25-cent roulette and dollar craps. Oh hell yeah--it was like music to our broke ears...

We pulled in, found a penny machine right there in front, lost five bucks, and went looking for these low-rolling tables they'd advertised. Talk about the old bait-and-switch, there was only ONE open table in the pit. Just a single five-dollar blackjack shoe game.

What the...?

No dollar craps, no quarter roulette, and certainly no Pai Gow. We'd been had. We turned around and left, just shaking our heads in disbelief. I can now say that I've visited the Westin Causerina or whatever the hell they call it. I can also say I won't be going back.

Back in the truck, it was time to move on. We were feeling a bit hungry, I mean, Krispy Kreme donuts are basically nothing but sugar and air, so we felt like we needed to eat something a bit more substantial. I suggested Metro Pizza, and Sticky was all for it. So we made our way south towards the Tropicanas.

As luck would have it, we stumbled in at the right time to take advantage of their 'happy hour'-- half-priced pizzas for all! We ordered a large Gotham style (that's the one with everything on it) and entertainened ourselves by writing messages in crayon on our paper table cover, taking pictures with the camera phone, and sending them off to various folks who couldn't be there. Once the pizza arrived, we snapped a picture of that, too, and I sent a message to Dave P saying Greetings from Metro Pizza. He hates us now.

The pizza was good, and we had a lot of laughs as the text messages were starting to get returned from various jealous folks around the country. We finally upped the buffoonery level by just texting the message Up four grand--off to Olympic Gardens next! to Angy, knowing that she'd fall for it and put the word out... heh.

Our bankroll was actually about $3500 short of that, so instead of getting lappies and a face full of silicone, we decided to give Boulder Station a try. Since we still considered ourselves low rollers, the white trash goodness of the place appealed to our inner redneckedness. Sticky had never been, so she went with an open mind.

Of course, Boulder Station is not a bad casino. It's a nice casino built in a shitty neighborhood. We found our way to the dice table first, and we liked the fact that it was a $3 game with 10x odds. We elbowed our way in amongst the grinders, and lasted about 20 minutes before giving up and cashing out, both down about fifty bucks. The highlight, however, was our Marty Feldman dealer and his ability to stand on Wednesday and see both Sundays.

After that, we went do play some Pai Gow with the angriest dealer in captivity. She refused to smile, look up, or speak, and was slamming the cards around obviously pissed off at the world. We were treading lightly and I finally asked if she was having a bad day. She told us that she was sick and they wouldn't let her go home. We figured her Plan B was just trying to get kicked out for having a bad attitude. It started out roughly, and Sticky opted for slots, so she left me there alone with Miss Congeniality.

But my cards started to improve and before long I was back on the winning track.

Sticky came back after awhile and asked me where the cage was, but honestly I had no idea--I'd never been to the cage! I'd never won a dime at Boulder Station. I looked around, saw a sign that said "Cashier" and pointed her in the right direction.

She came back a few minutes later saying the line was like 80 people deep. We decided to play some more while waiting for the line to disperse a little. Luckily, I managed to catch a few more hands and was up over a hundred bucks. I figured it wasn't going to get much better than that, so we cashed out.

Back to the cage we went, and the line was still a mile long, and full of nothing but white trash (well, actually there was a colorful assortment of trash). We couldn't figure out what the deal was, thinking everyone must've won some big money that day, until we started listening to the conversations going on around us. It seems that it was the second day of the month, and everyone was cashing their welfare checks.

Oh good grief. You wouldn't believe the converstations going on around us. I've made some poor choices in my day, but damn, nothing like the stuff I heard floating around in that line. Of course, to those people, none of their circumstances were their own fault--it was always some version of The Man keeping them down.

And just how do people get by in this world without having a bank account? And why are you at the casino playing slots if you *do* have a bank account and it's overdrawn by $800???

Anyways...

It didn't help that the line moved slower than the DMV, and the fact that there were only three cashiers working, either. We almost said screw it, but I had a couple hundred bucks worth of chips. Finally the guy with the clipboard expediting the ID process got to us pointed us to the window that actual customers could use.

We cashed out and headed for the door, pretty much done with Boulder Station, also. I'd been there about three or four other times in the past, but it was always in the middle of the night, so I never knew it doubled as a check cashing joint for the huddled masses. Sticky of course thanked me for taking her there and showing off all of the economic superiority that my country offers... Heh.

Except for winning a bunch at the Pai Gow table, it was a pretty crummy experience there at Boulder Station. We were getting pretty tired, and the plan was to meet up with Steve B and Courtney downtown for some buffoonery that night, so we headed back to NYNY to relax for a bit. The original plan was to meet up after 10 pm, so we had more than three hours to kill.

I was beat, so I took a nap. Sticky went downstairs for more solo gambling while I snoozed.

I was still pretty groggy when she woke me up, and I made a quick call to Steve B. I got his voicemail, but told him that we were on our way. We changed clothes, picked up the truck from the valet, and headed down to the Plaza.

Nobody called back, so we visited Tim the bartender at the Keno Bar for a few rounds and played a little video poker. We also hit a slot machine or two, but then wanted to play some Pai Gow. The only table at the Plaza was full, so headed across the street to the Vegas Club.

We found two seats at opposite ends of the table, and both bought in for a hundred. It was a fun game--the dealer was decent and we didn't take too many bad beats. The guys we were playing with were pretty odd, though. Loud, drunk, and obnoxious--very fun--but they were from Notre Dame, and even though every other word was f-this and f-that, every few minutes they's stand up and start singing weird creepy religious songs and hymns and then do some monk-chanting shiat too. It was quite strange. Uncomfortably strange.

Although, there was a drink-spitting moment of comedy when one of them uttered the now-famous line "Well, if getting a hand job from your brother is wrong, dammit, I don't wanna be right!"

They finally had enough, and left the table, allowing Sticky to come down and sit next to me. Sometime during the night, Jamie from PA (you might recognize her from my comments section) came over to visit. Her and her husband were staying there at the Vegas Club and recognized me, so that was fun.

Sticky and I also started to win a few good hands there at the Pai Gow table, and even though we never heard from the rest of our gang, we had a blast and won a bit of money.

After a few hours there at the Vegas Club, we decided to move on and find a dice table. We ended up wandering down to Binions and finding a $5 table. Both Sticky and I had two good rolls each, but the other folks at the table had bad ones, keeping us from making a big score. We played for about 45 minutes or so, and when we cashed out, Sticky was up about $25 and I was up a buck.

I had gone to bottled water, but Sticky kept with the rye & Cokes, so she had a good buzz going. We needed food pretty badly at that point--it had been almost twelve hours since our visit to Metro Pizza, and we were hungry.

We left the tables and went downstairs to the coffee shop, somewhat excited about their graveyard specials. Sticky was craving toast and breakfast, and I was just looking for something to fill the hole. I used to rave about a dish called Benny's Natural that I had a couple times each trip to Vegas, and was fairly upset when it disappeared from the menu back in the recent Dark Times.

But it's back, just under a different name--a huge ham steak, hash browns, eggs, and toast, and I think it costs about two bucks depending on the time of day. So that's what I ordered. Sticky had something similar, just with sausage instead. While we were sitting there sipping our coffee and waiting for our meal, Sticky had a Vegas moment--telling me about how she used to read all my old trip reports before she'd ever been downtown, hearing about me and Eddie B and the guys eating at Binions coffeeshop in the middle of the night, wishing she could've been a part of that, and here she was a few years later sitting there with me reliving a classic Vegas moment for the first time. Who'da thunkit?

Breakfast was excellent, and Sticky very much enjoyed her toast. I'm thinking that might've just been the whiskey talkin', though. But as good as it was, we couldn't beat the price. I think it cost about eight bucks for both of our meals.

We finally called it a night, hit the cage before fetching the truck from the Plaza valet, and headed back to NYNY via the Strip. It was a beautiful night out, and I played my Hillbilly Roadtrip cd, we had the windows down, and it was a fun drive back to the other end of town. We were talking like hicks and laughing our asses off all the way down the Strip. Between that and all of the Ron White quotes, I couldn't stop giggling for what seemed like hours. Sticky may be Canadian, but she can put on the Dirty South accent like it ain't nothin'.

She's the queen of my doublewide trailer...

Anyhow, we finally made it back to our ghetto-style hotel room, happy that we'd made some of our money back and exhausted from our eventful day. Sleep came like a drug (in God's country...), and we passed out, giggling ourselves into a restful slumber.

I woke up earlier than Sticky--probably because of my nap the night before. At some point during the weekend we both confessed to each other that neither of us really liked Starbucks coffee all that much, so it was my quest to find a better cup that morning. Luckily, the Greenwich Village Coffee Company or something like that was also downstairs, so I picked up a couple of tall cups of hazelnut coffee and a couple of really good blueberry muffins. It was a hit with the crowd on the elevator, but even more so with Sticky. I think I spoiled her with the fresh coffee in bed every morning.

After the previous night's buffoonery, we were moving extra slow. It took it us quite awhile to get going, but once we did, we decided to shuffle off to the valet and then head back to Green Valley Ranch for some more Pai Gow.

Once we arrived, our first order of business was to find a couple of seats at a Pai Gow table, but we were denied. It seemed everyone else in the neighborhood had the same idea at the same time. So we wandered the casino a bit, looking at all the pretty lights and seeking that magical slot machine that would remove us once and for all from the working class. Unfortunately, we never found it, and even lost a few bucks during our search. Eventually we made it back to the pit and found a couple of seats together at a $10 game.

We'd actually been on a mini winning streak ever since we left the trailer park Boulder Station the previous evening, and it continued for us that morning. The cocktail waitress started us off right with Baileys and coffee, and we were feeling pretty content. I actually got another straight flush, but only had a buck up on the bonus. But fifty bucks is always a nice hit. We had a nice time, but could only play for a few hours due to the fact that I had to work later that evening.

It was a winning session, and we were pretty happy when we finally colored up. We were kind of hungry, so I asked for a dinner comp for two at the cafe, as the floor still had me rated at $50+ per hand. The floorperson got off the phone and told us to hang tight for a few minutes because a host was coming down to talk to us.

Score!

In just about every casino in Vegas, any floorperson can write a food comp. But if you want the real goodies, like free rooms or use of a limo, you need a host. So we stood there for a few minutes thinking of our wish list that we were going to ask for-- or even better, what they were going to offer us. We were pretty excited when he finally walked up, introduced himself, and shook our hands. He asked us what we needed, and I told him that all we really needed at the time was dinner for two at the cafe.

His reply, basically, was Go take a flying leap, loser.

Sorry, nothing we can do for you at this time--you're running a comp deficit.

What?

Yep--I see a Fatburger comp (that was in September of 2005!) and a recent gift shop debit of $30 (I guess they figured out that they'd given me six packs of cigarettes last week and popped me for it after all...)

Whatever, dude. If you can't give us a comp, why keep us standing around for 15 minutes waiting on you to show up? Just have the floorperson tell us no and we'll head on down the road.

So we walked away, stunned. We went to the food court and settled on Fatburger. We ordered two burgers, onion rings, and two large Cokes. To say I suffered from sticker shock is a gross understatement when I handed over $24 for the meal. And the burgers weren't even that good this time around, either. Overall, that last ten minutes pretty much ruined a decent day at Green Valley Ranch.

I still like playing there, but at least now I've set proper expectations.

We headed back to the hotel to relax for about an hour before I had to get ready for work. Sticky was going to spend the early part of the evening playing poker at the Excalibur, and then head on out to my casino to meet me, while I was going to sign the early out list.

We were just lounging in the room, watching tv, when her phone rang.

I don't know how to say this tactfully, but the honest truth is that she has a Significant Other back at home. It's not my place to reveal any details of their circumstances, but our situation is far from unique, and a certain amount of discretion is required for us to be together.

So I was being absolutely quiet while waiting for her to get off of the phone and I decided to go ahead and start getting ready for work. I went to the bathroom, but the walls are paper thin, and I could hear every word of their conversation. I had to use the facilities, so I sat on the throne reading the MGM magazine for a few minutes. I finished up and turned on the shower. Luckily, it's a low-flow model, so it was relatively quiet. However, whenever the toilet is flushed, it sounded like a 747 taking off.

I could hear that Sticky was still on the phone, so in order to be discreet, instead of flushing I just put the lid down and told myself I'd flush it when I got out of the shower, certainly she'd be off the phone by then.

You know where this is going...

Yep, after my shower I forgot about it, got dressed, said my goodbyes to Sticky, and we agreed to meet up around 11 at my casino.

I was out the door, oblivious.

Fast forward about four hours. I'm coming back from the Sports Book, and I see Sticky standing next to the Pai Gow tables. I pointed to the table I was heading to next, and she took a seat.

A few minutes later, I tapped out the dealer, sat down, and greeted everyone. I could see that she had a good buzz going, and I gave her a generic Hey--how you doing?

She looked at me and deadpanned I want to thank you for leaving your kids in my pool...

Oh. My. God.

I was mortified. She said the look of realization and horror on my face was priceless. I sat there for several minutes turning different shades of red while she giggled to herself the whole time. Later that night we laughed ourselves silly about it, but at the time I was dying of embarrassment.

She played at my table until I got cut loose, but unfortunately, she didn't win much. Jamie in PA and her husband also joined us, and we had a great time at the table.

After I clocked out and changed clothes, we hit the slot machines again. Sticky got a few spins on the huge Wheel of Fortune game, and I think she even doubled up. We also found my favorite musical Pay Dirt penny machine, and we had a lot of laughs composing our own five-note symphonies and chasing away the players next to us. We had a few tickets to cash out, so it was a good visit to the machines.

We left the casino, looking for some more low-priced buffoonery. We eventually found ourselves at the Klondike, machete-ing our way through the second-hand smoke and finding seats at a ten-cent roulette table.

If Boulevard of Broken Dreams wasn't set in a diner, it could've easily been set in the Klondike Casino. What a dump. The dealers are either the greenest-of-the-green break-ins, or burnt out old ex-cons who can't pass a background check and have no place else to go. Our roulette dealer seemed to be firmly in category number two. He took his own sweet time getting ready, and we sat there for about ten minutes with him straightening the chip stacks and no spin. One of the other players asked if he was going to eventually spin the ball, and his reply was Don't worry about it, nobody here is going anywhere...

Truer words were never spoken.

Sticky and I just looked at each other and the look on her face said First you take me to Boulder Station, and now this?!?!?

Luckily I hit one of my numbers once we eventually got a game going, but then the 'pit boss' told us that they were closing the game immediately. I guess they really needed that seven bucks I won, although I'm guessing that they weren't going to use it to pay the cleaning staff.

So we moved to another table, and they pushed out our monster stacks of ten-cent chips. Sticky was like Holy shit--that's a lot of chips! and the dealer--with one of those bad red-neck accents we'd been making fun of the day before said, I can make 'em quarters if ya want... , and we just about died laughing.

We played about three more spins, but it was a total pain in the ass because there was an old guy there putting two or three chips on EVERY possible bet on the table. He had about 500 chips spread all over the layout, and it took about ten minutes between games for the dealer to muck all the chips, make the payouts, and then wait for him to set them all up again. He wasn't quite bright enough to figure out that he was losing about 2 bucks a spin, but he had a system, dammit, and we didn't have the heart to explain the error of his ways, nor the patience to witness it for very long either.

We also noticed that the lights in the 'cafe' were turned off, but it said that they were open 24 hours. I asked the lady standing behind us at the entrance if they were open, and she said they were, but keep the lights off when there aren't any customers.

Alrighty then...

So we took our money over to the $2 blackjack table, bet it all at once, lost, and headed for the door.

As we were driving away, I asked Sticky what she thought of the Klondike, and I think her response was I just don't have the words...

While driving away, we decided to head to someplace nicer, so I suggested the South Point casino, which used to be the South Coast. I figured that with the new ownership, they might have some better games than the crapola tables that Coast is famous for.

I could tell that Sticky liked it much better, although neither of us are big fans of 'warehouse' type of casinos that are brightly lit with high ceilings. (That's why we like Treasure Island so much...) But we found seats at a fun $5 Pai Gow table with a very friendly Samoan dealer. Unfortunately, we just couldn't make a run. No matter how good of a hand we had, the dealer was always at least one card better. After a run of two-pair and three-of-a-kind hands from the dealer, I decided to Bank the table. Wouldn't you know that's the one hand that was a Queen-high pai gow. Grrr...

We played for over an hour, enjoying what were probably the most comfortable chairs ever to grace a casino, while Sticky slowly headed towards derailment. She'd been hitting the Rye & Cokes for several hours, and was quite loopy. Since I was driving, I'd gone to bottled water, so my enjoyment of the buzz came from observation, not participation.

Eventually, we decided that we really need to get a bite to eat, so we cashed out, down about $25 each. We went to the cafe there in the casino, and were immediately disappointed. Unlike every other casino in Vegas, this joint had absolutely NO graveyard specials. Everything was full price. And there were no spoons on any of the tables, either. Yep, we were stirring our coffee with our butter knives. And the jelly rack on our table held nothing but orange marmalade.

Orange marmalade? Who the hell eats that shiat? (Besides my dad, I mean...) So Sticky and I went on a little safari around the dining room--she was hunting for spoons, while I tracked my quarry of strawberry preserves.

We came up empty on the spoons, even the server said that they were scarce. But we didn't really believe her--she was so nearsighted that she had those glasses that made her eyes look huge from the outside, so we didn't know if she just couldn't see them or what. Finally, we figured out the Spanish word for 'spoon' (cuchara) and had a busboy bring over a couple.

Our meals, basically, were very bland. Just no good at all. We both ordered chicken fried steak, eggs, and biscuits and gravy. It was industrial recipe, straight-from-the-can bland. Ugh. It was easily the worst meal of the weekend. The biscuits and gravy were so bad that we ordered an extra side of toast, and that was the highlight of the meal. Well, that and all the laughs we had.

We paid up and got the hell out of the South Point. I liked the Pai Gow tables ($5 limits, fortune bonus, dragon hand, and very comfy chairs), but I noticed that they still had only 2x odds on the craps games. Would I go back? Probably, but only if I were in the neighborhood--I doubt I would make a special trip.

We got back to NYNY at 5:30 in the morning, just exhausted. We called the front desk, asking for a late checkout, and they told us we could stay in the room until 1:00 pm instead of the regular 11 o'clock eviction. That was nice.

We went to bed, but only dozed for a couple of hours. We actually got out of bed by 11 and were checked out by noon.

We had three hours to kill before we had to say goodbye, so we decided to go back down to Treasure Island and play some more. We lucked into a very good dealer and a fun table (pai gow, of course) and spent the next three hours just having a blast. It started hot, but a replacement dealer came in and wiped out our gains. Luckily our other dealer came back and made it up to us. At one point, Sticky got a straight flush, and on the very next hand I got four-of-a-kind! Nice. The bonus money helped, and I think I cashed out up $120 and Sticky was up about fifty.

It was getting close to 3 pm, and we had to head to the airport. It was an absolutely gorgeous sunny day out, so we had the windows down and decided to take the scenic route along the strip. We laughed it up, recounting the highs and lows of the trip, and wishing we could do it all over again.

The airport was surprisingly quiet, reflecting our suddenly somber mood, and we said our goodbyes at the curb. It was a fantastic week and I was sad to see it end. As of this point, it looks like she won't be back until March Madness, but this trip proved that a spontaneous Vegas visit can happen at any time.

Who knows... She might be heading back here right now...

Mikey

If It's Monday, It's Gotta Be Vegas!

Good afternoon, everyone! I *really* wanted to post early this morning when I got home from work, but I was sooo exhausted that I couldn't even make it past the first commercial break watching Mike & Mike on ESPN2 before passing out.

I woke up about an hour ago and have slowly been kicking around the house, I finally made myself a pot of coffee, and will spend the day writing up what I hope is a very entertaining trip report relating this past week's activities. I started on it already this weekend, but didn't get nearly as far as I'd like. Luckily tomorrow is a day off, so I should get a lot of it done then.

In the meantime, I've got a few distractions to attend to today, but I'll be writing and posting as I go if I can spare a few minutes here and there.

Mikey

The Return

Hey Everybody!

I'm back home again for two short hours before heading off to work. I see my comments section is awash with all sorts of speculation, but by now, with all the text messages and cam-phone photos that have been shared, most everyone knows that Sticky came back to visit me again!

There I was on Wednesday morning, sitting at my desk, looking at tons of unreplied-to emails, a pile of dirty laundry, and a to-do list a mile long. And I was still exhausted from the NSF activities, followed by a six-day work week with George and Marlisha's visit on top of it. All I wanted was to clean house, get some rest, and recharge the batteries.

But then Sticky popped up on my Yahoo messenger and said "Guess what--I'm on my way to VEGAS right now!!!! I sat there in utter disbelief for a few seconds, thinking she was just pulling my leg to be cruel, but she was dead serious--she got another free room offer from NYNY and found a last-minute airfare deal from O-Canada that was cheaper than the advance ticket she'd had for her visit ten days earlier.

So she was running around like a Canadian chicken with it's head cut off, trying to tie up loose ends with her business, getting packed, and getting to the airport. I wrote down her flight info, and suddenly found myself preparing for another weekend in Vegas playing tourist.

Sleep would have to wait.

So that's where I've been for the past four days. I'll get another report posted as soon as I get some rest and some free time. It might be a couple of days.

But I just got home from dropping her off at the airport--it was another sad goodbye, especially since we had soooo much fun and so many laughs this time around. I swear, last night, she had me in stitches for hours, because after about 10 Crown & Cokes, her silly button gets switched on and the buffoonery needle is pegged.

We got no sleep either, so we're gonna pay for it. But it was another great visit.

Stay tuned for more details as the fog lifts...

Mikey

Trying My Hand at Political Commentary

Mikey

Mikey Does the Vegas Happy Dance!

Woo Hoo!!!

I just found out, literally minutes ago, that one of my all-time favorite people is on her way to Vegas as I type this. And I have the next two nights off from work. I was already planning on having a great time with Courtney and Steve B, but it just got even better.

Full disclosure to follow later.

Mikey