Anybody who's been in a casino knows that you're not allowed to touch the dealer and we're also not allowed to take anything directly from a player's hand--money, chips, ID, anything. If the player wants to get some chips, they have to lay the money down on the table, and we'll take it from there.
That rule is completely lost on some people, most notably first-timers who reveling in the new-found wonder of free cocktails.
So when the hot girl in the low-cut top at my dice table tried three different times to hand me a hundred dollar bill, I decided to make the lesson stick.
I'm sorry ma'am, you're not allowed to pass me anything directly from your hand unless it's a room key!
She finally figured out the protocol, and the game came to a halt while the boxman and the stickman re-composed themselves. I didn't get the room key, but damn, we made some good tips after that.
Mikey
Monday, July 23, 2007
Satisfaction
Good Morning, everyone--hope you're all having a happy Monday.
I just got up a little while ago, made myself a fresh pot of hazelnut/coconut Nirvana, and I'm presently relaxing in front of the computer, thinking of all the things I *should* be doing instead. Yep, my room is a mess, I have about nine loads of laundry to do, I need to synchronize my calendar with all of my bills that are due in the next few weeks, and I should probably organize my closet.
But sitting in front of the computer drinking coffee is much more enjoyable, so there you go...
As far as work goes, it's been a very interesting week. First of all, starting tonight, my schedule changed (for the better), and I get to go in at 7:00 pm instead of 8:00. That's so much better for so many reasons-- 1) I'm likely to be on a good string of games (a couple of Pai Gow tables and that Ultimate Holdem Game) instead of a bunch of life-sucking low-limit blackjack tables, 2) It's much busier early on, so my time goes much faster, and 3) I will more than likely be able to skip out of work 40 minutes early almost every night, yet still get full tokes.
Of course, not all is sunshine and lollipops. One of the Pai Gow tables on the 7:00 pm string is a five-dolllar flea circus. It's a pretty long hour, because there are about three or four of the same losers that come in every night and wait for seats at the table. Of course they never tip, and they're usually the first ones to bitch and moan about their comps. Or lack of them. As much as I root against the House, sometimes it's a sublime pleasure to bust some people. And even though it takes forever at a five-dollar Pai Gow table, when it happens, it's just a thing of beauty.
Anyhow, I'm really looking forward to my new schedule--it's put a spring in my step already. Additionally, now that we got the word that the most hated and psychopathic dealer ever to pitch cards in Vegas was *officially* shitcanned, and we've gotten rid of that horrid Rapid Roulette game, our tokes seem to have gone up significantly on the weekends. We've had a couple of pretty good days. The past several weekdays have been less-than-stellar (it's been slow), but our weekend was pretty good.
I've also gotten a few 'pats on the head' these past few days. One of the bosses, who I find *very* hard to read--straight up told me the other day, out of the clear blue, that "You really shouldn't even be working here".
I was like WTF? Excuse me?
"Yeah, you should be down on the Strip at a nice place making more money--you're too good to be working here..."
Oh, ok... Heh. That's better.
The problem with working on the Strip is that MGM/Mirage doesn't seem to be the least bit interested in me (they keep your information on file, and applying for a position, once your first application is done, is just a matter of clicking a button on their employment website). I've applied for a half-dozen different positions over the course of the past year-and-a-half and haven't even gotten a single acknowledgment or audition.
Otherwise, the only alternative is working for the Evil Empire, and I don't know if I'm ready to make that leap quite yet. Of course, there's always Le Steve or Uncle Sheldon, but since about 4000 dealers around town have applied for a position at the Venetian/Palazzo in the past month, and getting into the Wynn is tougher than getting a job as the towel boy at the Playboy mansion, those aren't really an option. Besides, there are only about five or six places on the Strip where the dealers consistently make more than I already do. So my options seem to be fairly limited, anyways.
But I know I'm pretty good at what I do. I had two different floorpeople tell me last week that they love having me work in their sections because they know that they don't have to babysit my table. Hell, two nights ago, one of the bosses came and got me off of my table to help them answer a dispute on another game (but they're still not gonna get me to wear a jacket--I've been successfully dodging that responsibility for over a year, and my record still stands!)
I even got a backhanded compliment from a pissed-off player on Friday night. I was dealing that Bonus Holdem game, which has a *huge* house edge--I wouldn't be caught dead on the other side of that table. But it was late, and it was a dead game, and this doofus came up with another hundred dollar bill (I'd already taken about three others off of him earlier) and said he wanted to give it one more try.
So I shuffled up, and he actually won a couple of hands right away, and I dropped a few bucks in the toke box. We were laughing it up and having a good time, and then the wheels fell off. He'd made a full house by having a pocket queen while the board was showing three kings, a queen, and a four. So he had about $30 worth of bets out on the table, thinking his full house was good. But guess who had the case King?
Yep, he got the boat, but I had the four-of-a-kind and wiped him out.
He got so pissed, slammed the table, then pointed his finger at me and said "If you do that again, I'm coming across this table!"
Oh man, I absolutely live for the day that happens, because then I would have permission to beat the ever-livin' shiat out of somebody that clearly has it coming.
I calmly replied, Oh, please do! That would make my whole night!
I could hear the floorperson behind me start to snicker, and the guy said "I'm not afraid of you, man!"
So I told him that he didnt' have a reason to be, as I wasn't the one making threats.
He lost a few more hands with bad cards, and then I crushed him. I dealt him pocket jacks and he loaded up his bets again. The board was pretty raggy, except that there were two sixes out there as community cards.
I turned over my hole cards to show a 6-3 offsuit, and I thought the guy was gonna come unglued. Yep, my three-of-a-kind smacked down his big pocket pair, busting him again.
He flipped out, wisely deciding against coming across the table though, and said Dude, I know what you're doing. You're totally setting the deck! I know it! I've been here in Vegas since 1974, so I know what's up...
With that he got up and left, and as soon as he did, both me and the floorperson looked at each other and busted out laughing.
Heh.
First of all, if I could set the deck with any degree of accuracy, that jagoff wouldn't be able to get a seat at my table, as it would always be full of my buddies and hot chicks with questionable morals.
Second of all, it didn't do me one bit of good to bust the guy--when he was winning, he was tipping, so I was actually rooting for the guy. But as soon as he took a bad beat, he turned into a complete farking mope, so I knew I'd gotten my last toke out of the guy. Crushing him was just a nice bonus.
Third of all, busting him out and sitting on a dead game is kind of counter-productive, as it makes the night just drag.
And finally, even if I could control the cards, why in the hell would I risk a decent job with good insurance and benefits to bust a complete toolbox that was doing a fine job of going broke on his own?
I guess his tinfoil hat was on too tight. But I took it as a compliment that he thought I was that smooth of a dealer that I could manipulate the deck so well. If only it were so--because if it were, I'd spend my days like Mike McD and Worm, cold-decking Teen Beat cover boys, and I wouldn't have to worry about going to work every day.
So what else is new?
Let's see here... I got to deal dice twice in the last week, and it was actually a lot of fun. Normally, I don't much care for our 'regular' dice players, but the tables I was on were full of tourists, so it was much more enjoyable than dealing to our regular strokers. I'm glad I got over there, because I don't deal dice nearly often enough, and not that I was that much of an all-star craps dealer, but my game was getting a bit rusty. So I got to knock the edge off and deal a couple of fun games this weekend.
Saturday night after work, there was huge goodbye party for one of the boxmen who was giving up the casino biz to move out to Hawaii with a buddy of his and be a bartender. The Early-Out list was about two pages long, but since my dice game went dead, I was one of the lucky ones and slid out ahead of most of the blackjack crew. Our shift goes until 4:00 am, but I swear by 3:00 the entire shift was at the bar getting silly on beer and shots. Even the floorpeople were there--everyone thought they must've closed the place down because almost every dealer was at the bar. We had no idea who was left in the casino pitching cards until the graveyard shift showed up, but by then nobody cared. It was a good time.
I wanted to take some pictures, but my dumb drunk ass was defeated by the new digital camera that said that my memory card was write-protected and it wouldn't let me take any photos (and let me tell you, there were some *great* opportunities). Of course, then next day I figured out that there is a little locking switch on the side of the memory card that somehow I managed to activate. Oh well, it's probably better that some of the buffoonery on display wasn't permanently recorded, and relegated to "legend" status instead.
My hottie friend Lisa Lisa The One I Adore (the one who's a cocktail waitress at Luxor) was also there, and she insisted on doing several shots together, so I was good and buzzed on Surfers on Acid. Whew... a few of those will make you good and silly. Couple them with a few pints of Captain and Coke, and you have a recipe for a happy disaster. Somebody had the foresight to order wings, nachos, and chicken strips for the crowd, so there was a bit of food on hand to dilute the booze. Around the time the sun came up, I switched to bottled water for a couple of hours before heading home, scrubbing off the lipstick, and sleeping it off.
Of course, everyone was completely fried at work last night--the entire shift seemed to be hungover and moving at half-speed, complaining that they just can't rage like they used to. Luckily it was kind of slow and easy--I dealt a grand total of four hands in the first two hours of my shift. The rest of the time I sat there at dead tables, my eyes glazed over and staring at all the pretty flashing lights in the distance.
Dinner consisted of mashed potatoes and iced tea.
It was just another Sunday in America's Playground.
Mikey
I just got up a little while ago, made myself a fresh pot of hazelnut/coconut Nirvana, and I'm presently relaxing in front of the computer, thinking of all the things I *should* be doing instead. Yep, my room is a mess, I have about nine loads of laundry to do, I need to synchronize my calendar with all of my bills that are due in the next few weeks, and I should probably organize my closet.
But sitting in front of the computer drinking coffee is much more enjoyable, so there you go...
As far as work goes, it's been a very interesting week. First of all, starting tonight, my schedule changed (for the better), and I get to go in at 7:00 pm instead of 8:00. That's so much better for so many reasons-- 1) I'm likely to be on a good string of games (a couple of Pai Gow tables and that Ultimate Holdem Game) instead of a bunch of life-sucking low-limit blackjack tables, 2) It's much busier early on, so my time goes much faster, and 3) I will more than likely be able to skip out of work 40 minutes early almost every night, yet still get full tokes.
Of course, not all is sunshine and lollipops. One of the Pai Gow tables on the 7:00 pm string is a five-dolllar flea circus. It's a pretty long hour, because there are about three or four of the same losers that come in every night and wait for seats at the table. Of course they never tip, and they're usually the first ones to bitch and moan about their comps. Or lack of them. As much as I root against the House, sometimes it's a sublime pleasure to bust some people. And even though it takes forever at a five-dollar Pai Gow table, when it happens, it's just a thing of beauty.
Anyhow, I'm really looking forward to my new schedule--it's put a spring in my step already. Additionally, now that we got the word that the most hated and psychopathic dealer ever to pitch cards in Vegas was *officially* shitcanned, and we've gotten rid of that horrid Rapid Roulette game, our tokes seem to have gone up significantly on the weekends. We've had a couple of pretty good days. The past several weekdays have been less-than-stellar (it's been slow), but our weekend was pretty good.
I've also gotten a few 'pats on the head' these past few days. One of the bosses, who I find *very* hard to read--straight up told me the other day, out of the clear blue, that "You really shouldn't even be working here".
I was like WTF? Excuse me?
"Yeah, you should be down on the Strip at a nice place making more money--you're too good to be working here..."
Oh, ok... Heh. That's better.
The problem with working on the Strip is that MGM/Mirage doesn't seem to be the least bit interested in me (they keep your information on file, and applying for a position, once your first application is done, is just a matter of clicking a button on their employment website). I've applied for a half-dozen different positions over the course of the past year-and-a-half and haven't even gotten a single acknowledgment or audition.
Otherwise, the only alternative is working for the Evil Empire, and I don't know if I'm ready to make that leap quite yet. Of course, there's always Le Steve or Uncle Sheldon, but since about 4000 dealers around town have applied for a position at the Venetian/Palazzo in the past month, and getting into the Wynn is tougher than getting a job as the towel boy at the Playboy mansion, those aren't really an option. Besides, there are only about five or six places on the Strip where the dealers consistently make more than I already do. So my options seem to be fairly limited, anyways.
But I know I'm pretty good at what I do. I had two different floorpeople tell me last week that they love having me work in their sections because they know that they don't have to babysit my table. Hell, two nights ago, one of the bosses came and got me off of my table to help them answer a dispute on another game (but they're still not gonna get me to wear a jacket--I've been successfully dodging that responsibility for over a year, and my record still stands!)
I even got a backhanded compliment from a pissed-off player on Friday night. I was dealing that Bonus Holdem game, which has a *huge* house edge--I wouldn't be caught dead on the other side of that table. But it was late, and it was a dead game, and this doofus came up with another hundred dollar bill (I'd already taken about three others off of him earlier) and said he wanted to give it one more try.
So I shuffled up, and he actually won a couple of hands right away, and I dropped a few bucks in the toke box. We were laughing it up and having a good time, and then the wheels fell off. He'd made a full house by having a pocket queen while the board was showing three kings, a queen, and a four. So he had about $30 worth of bets out on the table, thinking his full house was good. But guess who had the case King?
Yep, he got the boat, but I had the four-of-a-kind and wiped him out.
He got so pissed, slammed the table, then pointed his finger at me and said "If you do that again, I'm coming across this table!"
Oh man, I absolutely live for the day that happens, because then I would have permission to beat the ever-livin' shiat out of somebody that clearly has it coming.
I calmly replied, Oh, please do! That would make my whole night!
I could hear the floorperson behind me start to snicker, and the guy said "I'm not afraid of you, man!"
So I told him that he didnt' have a reason to be, as I wasn't the one making threats.
He lost a few more hands with bad cards, and then I crushed him. I dealt him pocket jacks and he loaded up his bets again. The board was pretty raggy, except that there were two sixes out there as community cards.
I turned over my hole cards to show a 6-3 offsuit, and I thought the guy was gonna come unglued. Yep, my three-of-a-kind smacked down his big pocket pair, busting him again.
He flipped out, wisely deciding against coming across the table though, and said Dude, I know what you're doing. You're totally setting the deck! I know it! I've been here in Vegas since 1974, so I know what's up...
With that he got up and left, and as soon as he did, both me and the floorperson looked at each other and busted out laughing.
Heh.
First of all, if I could set the deck with any degree of accuracy, that jagoff wouldn't be able to get a seat at my table, as it would always be full of my buddies and hot chicks with questionable morals.
Second of all, it didn't do me one bit of good to bust the guy--when he was winning, he was tipping, so I was actually rooting for the guy. But as soon as he took a bad beat, he turned into a complete farking mope, so I knew I'd gotten my last toke out of the guy. Crushing him was just a nice bonus.
Third of all, busting him out and sitting on a dead game is kind of counter-productive, as it makes the night just drag.
And finally, even if I could control the cards, why in the hell would I risk a decent job with good insurance and benefits to bust a complete toolbox that was doing a fine job of going broke on his own?
I guess his tinfoil hat was on too tight. But I took it as a compliment that he thought I was that smooth of a dealer that I could manipulate the deck so well. If only it were so--because if it were, I'd spend my days like Mike McD and Worm, cold-decking Teen Beat cover boys, and I wouldn't have to worry about going to work every day.
So what else is new?
Let's see here... I got to deal dice twice in the last week, and it was actually a lot of fun. Normally, I don't much care for our 'regular' dice players, but the tables I was on were full of tourists, so it was much more enjoyable than dealing to our regular strokers. I'm glad I got over there, because I don't deal dice nearly often enough, and not that I was that much of an all-star craps dealer, but my game was getting a bit rusty. So I got to knock the edge off and deal a couple of fun games this weekend.
Saturday night after work, there was huge goodbye party for one of the boxmen who was giving up the casino biz to move out to Hawaii with a buddy of his and be a bartender. The Early-Out list was about two pages long, but since my dice game went dead, I was one of the lucky ones and slid out ahead of most of the blackjack crew. Our shift goes until 4:00 am, but I swear by 3:00 the entire shift was at the bar getting silly on beer and shots. Even the floorpeople were there--everyone thought they must've closed the place down because almost every dealer was at the bar. We had no idea who was left in the casino pitching cards until the graveyard shift showed up, but by then nobody cared. It was a good time.
I wanted to take some pictures, but my dumb drunk ass was defeated by the new digital camera that said that my memory card was write-protected and it wouldn't let me take any photos (and let me tell you, there were some *great* opportunities). Of course, then next day I figured out that there is a little locking switch on the side of the memory card that somehow I managed to activate. Oh well, it's probably better that some of the buffoonery on display wasn't permanently recorded, and relegated to "legend" status instead.
My hottie friend Lisa Lisa The One I Adore (the one who's a cocktail waitress at Luxor) was also there, and she insisted on doing several shots together, so I was good and buzzed on Surfers on Acid. Whew... a few of those will make you good and silly. Couple them with a few pints of Captain and Coke, and you have a recipe for a happy disaster. Somebody had the foresight to order wings, nachos, and chicken strips for the crowd, so there was a bit of food on hand to dilute the booze. Around the time the sun came up, I switched to bottled water for a couple of hours before heading home, scrubbing off the lipstick, and sleeping it off.
Of course, everyone was completely fried at work last night--the entire shift seemed to be hungover and moving at half-speed, complaining that they just can't rage like they used to. Luckily it was kind of slow and easy--I dealt a grand total of four hands in the first two hours of my shift. The rest of the time I sat there at dead tables, my eyes glazed over and staring at all the pretty flashing lights in the distance.
Dinner consisted of mashed potatoes and iced tea.
It was just another Sunday in America's Playground.
Mikey
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Just In Time For the Weekend
Well, myself, I had a couple of $30 Newcastles after work last night.
Yep. $30 apiece.
Normally they're only around five bucks each at your better establishments, but since the Jumbo Jackpot was sitting at $143,000 and steadily clocking upward to it's 150K limit, everyone I work with picked a machine and chased it for awhile once they punched out.
Well, I got my ass handed to me playing video poker--which I hate by the way, and I have no idea why I sat down there. But then my gal Denise found me and insisted that I join her in the realm of the truly desperate, and play some nickel Keno slots.
Oh man... I felt like a total loser. Seriously--Keno. Five cents per game. But Caveman Keno is nice and obnoxiously loud, thereby guaranteeing good cocktail service at 4:00 am. But how sad is it that we were trying to hit 7 out of 7 numbers on an 80-number board? For a whopping $300 payout? I mean, that's just completely ridiculous odds. Hell, I could drive down to Kingman, buy a Powerball ticket, only have to hit six out of six numbers and win $72 MILLION this week. Oh well, we were going for the Jumbo Jackpot, so that makes it totally worth it...
So there I was, sitting and pathetically feeding that machine a nickel at a time, hoping to score a little love from either The House or Denise. I got neither. That damn Jumbo Jackpot outlasted both of us, and I came home, alone...
But I'm not the only one who was chasing it. I know somebody else, who's initials are Falcon Rob, who spent his day off at Green Valley Ranch playing single-credit nickel video poker for hours on end. In fact I got the following text message around 10 pm when I was on my break:
I'm down five dollars and my eyes are starting to bleed. DAMN YOU JUMBO JACKPOT!
Heh.
Do you have any idea how long it takes to be down five dollars on video poker when you're only playing a nickel at a time?
A long damn time.
Oh well, I hope somebody hits it before I go back to work tomorrow night. I'd hate to have to spend a hundred bucks for four beers.
That reminds me.--Did I ever tell you about the time I had the $600 Fatburger? It wasn't as tasty as you'd think...
Mikey
Edited to add: I just spoke to Falcon Rob--he corrected me. He was playing PENNY video poker. Yep, one cent at a time. He didn't win the jackpot either, as evidenced by our lack of nice furniture...
Friday, July 20, 2007
Feeling A Little Gassy Today
I had a pleasant surprise today while out doing my usual payday errands. I saw that gas is back below $3.00 per gallon, which is great news by itself, but the fact that it cost me less than $50 to fill up my tank put a smile on my face.
Yep, I paid $2.95 per gallon at the Maryland Pkwy/Flamingo Sinclair station. And yeah, I'm aware that it's cheaper at Terrible's, but I've discovered that Terrible's really doesn't want to sell gas. While they are usually the cheapest by about a nickel a gallon, the hoops they make you jump through just to pump the gas aren't really worth it. I mean, seriously, why have a credit card point-of-sale terminal outside on the gas pump if you're going to make me come inside, stand in line (There is *always* a line inside too, as they've worked some kind of deal with the transit authority to put a bus stop in front of every one of their gas stations), and show ID just to get gas? Every other pump in the city requires a PIN number for debit cards or billing address ZIP code for credit cards. At Terrible's, you have to bring in more documents than you do while applying for a home equity loan.
So I won't go there anymore. I prefer Sinclair. But the problem with Sinclair is that their corporate policy, at least here in Southern Nevada, is that nobody getting gas on a credit/debit card is allowed to buy more than $50 at a time. Once I learned this several months ago, I'd always refill the tank before it got below the 1/4 mark. But this morning when I left the house, with all of the running around with Angy and all of the extra driving I've done this past week, the peg was down bouncing off the 'Empty' peg and the fuel warning light was on. So I figured I'd put in as much as I could and just top off sometime later this weekend.
One could only imagine my surprise as the pump stopped at $49.30, and the tank wouldn't hold another drop.
On top of all that, now that I live south of the 215, I find myself using the freeway all the time--even to get to and from work. And instead of my usual 13 mpg that the truck has gotten since I brought her home a year ago, I'm now averaging close to 16.5 mpg. Oh hell yeah--I haven't seen that kind of mileage since I took that road trip to Phoenix.
Perhaps it's time for another...
Mikey
Yep, I paid $2.95 per gallon at the Maryland Pkwy/Flamingo Sinclair station. And yeah, I'm aware that it's cheaper at Terrible's, but I've discovered that Terrible's really doesn't want to sell gas. While they are usually the cheapest by about a nickel a gallon, the hoops they make you jump through just to pump the gas aren't really worth it. I mean, seriously, why have a credit card point-of-sale terminal outside on the gas pump if you're going to make me come inside, stand in line (There is *always* a line inside too, as they've worked some kind of deal with the transit authority to put a bus stop in front of every one of their gas stations), and show ID just to get gas? Every other pump in the city requires a PIN number for debit cards or billing address ZIP code for credit cards. At Terrible's, you have to bring in more documents than you do while applying for a home equity loan.
So I won't go there anymore. I prefer Sinclair. But the problem with Sinclair is that their corporate policy, at least here in Southern Nevada, is that nobody getting gas on a credit/debit card is allowed to buy more than $50 at a time. Once I learned this several months ago, I'd always refill the tank before it got below the 1/4 mark. But this morning when I left the house, with all of the running around with Angy and all of the extra driving I've done this past week, the peg was down bouncing off the 'Empty' peg and the fuel warning light was on. So I figured I'd put in as much as I could and just top off sometime later this weekend.
One could only imagine my surprise as the pump stopped at $49.30, and the tank wouldn't hold another drop.
On top of all that, now that I live south of the 215, I find myself using the freeway all the time--even to get to and from work. And instead of my usual 13 mpg that the truck has gotten since I brought her home a year ago, I'm now averaging close to 16.5 mpg. Oh hell yeah--I haven't seen that kind of mileage since I took that road trip to Phoenix.
Perhaps it's time for another...
Mikey
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Apathy
I don't give two shiats about
- The WNBA
- Soccer, in any form, at any level
- Ice Road Truckers
- John From Cincinnati
- Rachel Ray
- Harry Reid
- Other people's kids
- Their pets, either
- The War on Drugs
- Barry Bonds
- Michael Vick and his pit bulls
- The dealers at the Wynn
- NFL holdouts
- What A-Rod is gonna do about his contract
- The Car of Tomorrow
- Van Halen since Dave left
- Posh & Becks
- Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, et al...
- Miller Chill
- Reality TV
- Whether or not Tony got killed at the end
- copyright infringement from downloaded music
- my 'carbon footprint'
- anything Rosie O'Donnell has to say
- Mythbusters
- Lost
- Open-wheel racing
- The X-Games
I would love to have a week where I didn't have to hear anything at all about any of these subjects.
I'll keep dreamin'.
Mikey
- The WNBA
- Soccer, in any form, at any level
- Ice Road Truckers
- John From Cincinnati
- Rachel Ray
- Harry Reid
- Other people's kids
- Their pets, either
- The War on Drugs
- Barry Bonds
- Michael Vick and his pit bulls
- The dealers at the Wynn
- NFL holdouts
- What A-Rod is gonna do about his contract
- The Car of Tomorrow
- Van Halen since Dave left
- Posh & Becks
- Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, et al...
- Miller Chill
- Reality TV
- Whether or not Tony got killed at the end
- copyright infringement from downloaded music
- my 'carbon footprint'
- anything Rosie O'Donnell has to say
- Mythbusters
- Lost
- Open-wheel racing
- The X-Games
I would love to have a week where I didn't have to hear anything at all about any of these subjects.
I'll keep dreamin'.
Mikey
The Bane of My Existence
Some time ago, I made an impulse purchase. I was shopping for various accessories for my iPod down at Fry's Electronics, and while standing in the checkout line, there was a display of nifty retro barware for sale. Of course, every swingin' Vegas bachelor needs a martini shaker, and I didn't have one. And since I was livin' in the most shagadelic pad in all of the 702 at the time, I immediately justified the $18 expense and tossed it in the cart.I keep a decent collection of booze on hand, but anyone who's been to my house can tell you that it consists of 90% rum and 10% whiskey. But martini mixing requires infused vodkas, funky liqueurs, and having a proper bottle of gin on hand. I had none of the above. Not wanting the expense of buying ten or twelve new bottles of booze at the same time, I figured my new martini shaker would be the cornerstone of my newly updated bedroom mini-bar and I could always make a trip out to Lee's Discount Liquor Warehouse on paydays to slowly build the stocks.
So my new martini shaker sat on the shelf next to the rum bottles for several months, gathering dust as other priorities took over my discretionary income. Besides, who wants to drink alone? That's just pathetic and sad. And I certainly didn't want to drink with my roommates at the time--they were even more pathetic and sad.
Once I realized that I was moving out of the swingin'-sixties-pad-without-the-swingers, I packed up all my booze and accessories and waited for the day I could set up shop at my new place. And once I got the keys, the first thing I unpacked was all of the booze, and I set my new martini shaker in a place of honor on one of the built-in display shelves.
Thinking I could make some sort of tasty celebratory treat to toast the fact that I was now living in a much better place, I gathered up some ice, a bottle of vanilla rum, a bottle of coconut rum, and some Kahlua, ready to shake shake shake like Michael J. Fox listening to KC & the Sunshine Band.
Unfortunately, the martini shaker wouldn't come apart. The lid would come off, but I couldn't get the top half separated from the bottom half. It was fused on as tight as a drum. I twisted with all my might, tugged at it, even beat it on the floor. No luck--it was good and stuck.
Knowing a little about physics, I put the bottom half in a bowl full of ice, hoping to make it contract a bit, while I tickled the rim with my torch-style cigar lighter, heating up the top half to make it expand. No dice--my kung fu was not strong enough to defeat the will of the martini shaker.
Swearing didn't work either, nor did enlisting the help of outsiders to hold one end while I tried to twist the other. The only thing I haven't tried, short of a hacksaw, it putting the thing in a vice, and that's only because I don't have one.
So basically, it's just a big damn silver paperweight at this point, taking up space in my kitchen, and I'm not able to make martinis. Or at least look cool while making martinis.
I guess I'll just have to stick with the Captain and Coke in a big damn plastic cup. Bummer.
Mikey
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Rest of the Weekend...
Ok, now that I've posted the big downer, let me try and fill you in on the rest of my adventures with Angy. After Wednesday, I didn't get to see her again until Sunday--I had to work the next couple of nights, and her brother made a surprise visit, flying in on Thursday, so she spent the next three days hanging out with her family.
They all flew home early on Sunday afternoon, leaving Angy here in town unsupervised, so she called me first thing Sunday morning and we made plans to spend the afternoon/evening together.
Once I got back over to the Paris, the first order of business was a cocktail. But when I saw the completely empty bottle of Captain Silver lying on the floor, I made the now-famous lament:
Why is all the rum gone?
It looked like the first order of business would be lunch, instead. I was going to try and talk her into holding out until later and going over to Maggiano's at the mall, but I didn't know at the time that my afternoon was already planned... So we ate at the cafe there at Paris.
We were seated immediately, ordered our usual appetizer of calamari (it sounds so much more exotic than 'fried squid') and thought about drinks. We settled on water, though. For lunch, Angy had the seafood crepes, and I had a big damn club sandwich. It was really good, but almost too big, so I took the middle slices of bread out and called it a BLT with turkey. Angy enjoyed her crepes, and I have no idea what the bill came to.
After lunch, we made our way over to the Frontier, as Sunday was the very last day it was open to the public before it's appointment with the wrecking ball.
And all I can say about that is It's about damn time! That place has been a dump for years--and the smell, oh my god--it absolutely reeked of puke and stale smoke. It was awful. Anyhow, we lurked around a bit before finding Tonya and Kikky hanging out at some slot machines, and from there the four of us headed towards the bar in the middle of the casino.
It was a mellow afternoon, so we ordered some drinks and just hung out and chatted. It was very interesting to watch the dynamic in the casino, however. It was still quite crowded, and yeah, they were still sweating the money like they always did--the table limits were $5 minimum to $100 maximum. I guess they didn't wanna take a beating in case somebody got lucky on the last day.
Apparently the employee's dining room was already closed down, as they had a potluck set up in the middle of the pit for everyone to munch on during their breaks:
Angy opted to play a little video poker, and actually won a couple of bucks while we were sitting there:
Inspired by her success, I wandered over to an empty Pai Gow table and bought in for a hundred. It seemed, for a moment, that I was in for another ass-kicking, but my luck turned, and after about a half-hour or so I was up $115, so I cashed out. Hell yeah--Stickin' it to the Frontier! Between that and the $500 I won there back in March Madness II after an epic dice roll, I own those bitches! (Although, 'owning' a puke-smelling dump like that isn't exactly something to brag about...)
I wandered over to the cage to get my cash before they shut me out, and just as I was walking up, a hottie with a huge fake rack ran up to me, gave me an enjoyable chest-bump and a hug, and insisted we get our picture taken together. Ok!
I tried to get a better picture, but that new camera Angy gave me takes some getting used to. This was the best I could do:
We were having an enjoyable conversation, right up to the point where she said You remind me of my boyfriend... He's around here somewhere.... So after that, I wandered back to the bar to 'dance with who I brung'.
We hung out there at the bar for quite a bit, and had the honor of killing the very last bottle of Captain Morgan in the inventory. Once that was gone, we figured we had no reason to stick around.
On the way out the door, we figured we should get some souvenir dollar chips, so we stopped at the dead-on-one-end dice table and asked to buy a few chips.
Believe it or not, both the dealer and the boxman were complete assholes about it, refusing to sell us any. When I asked them why not, they said, If we sell them to you, we'll have to sell them to everyone.
I motioned to the non-existent line of people at their game and asked You mean all these people who aren't here?
They weren't budging, but when I finally got the floorperson involved, they had to sell them to me. Seriously--WTF? I don't understand why they had to be such dicks about it. So Doc and Ron, your dollar chips have been secured, even though it took a bit of hoop-jumping.
We'd been there for a few hours, and none of us were unhappy to leave. From the always-surly employees, to endless amount of duct-tape on the carpets and chairs, to the ever-present stench, I'm surprised the place has made it this long. I'll be glad to see this one finally imploded. It's funny, I was a little sad to see the Stardust go. But the Frontier? Forget it--push the damn button already!
From there we made our way up to Treasure Island, where we sat in the bar at Isla drinking margaritas (Pacifico, actually, for me) and eating chips and salsa. Well, I actually only had about four chips the entire time, but I watched Angy plow through two bowls like a stoner going through a bag of Cheetos. She said she just couldn't stop! After a couple of rounds and some good conversation, we decided to do a little gambling. Here it was Sunday night, and Angy hadn't played a single hand of blackjack yet!
That wouldn't do, so we found an empty $5 single-deck 6:5 game and sat down. It was actually pretty fun, and a guy joined us who seemed to have the magic touch when it came to cutting the deck, so we insisted that he do it every time. I ended up doing pretty well, and was up another $60 after finally losing four hands in a row, so I pulled the ripcord. I don't remember how Kikky did, but I think Angy was just about even.
We were both pretty tired when we cashed out, so after hitting the cage, we said goodbye to Kikky and headed back to Paris. I dropped Angy off so she could get some sleep, and I headed home.
Falcon Rob was off of work, and sitting in the living room watching TV. After giving him a rehash of my day, he suggested that since it was his 90-day anniversary of quitting his break-in dice-dealing job and he was now allowed to play at his old casino, we should go back over for some dollar craps.
Well, I was up over $150 for the day, so of course I agreed that it was a good idea.
So we headed out to Boulder Highway and the cheesy goodness of The Palace. No, not Ceasars Palace, the other one. No, not the Imperial Palace, the other other one... The Nevada Palace. Oh yeah--it's pretty bad. I think it won the LVRJ Best of Vegas award for 'Most Likely Place To Catch The Clap Without Actually Getting Laid'. It made the Frontier look at least as classy as the Gold Spike.
Well, we bought in, but as Rob put it, it was a comedy of errors. I was betting the pass line at first, and the table was cold, so I lost about $30 before changing to the Dark Side, when of course the dice got so hot that the fleas were making a fortune on all the fours and tens, so I lost another quick $30 before giving up, hoping to leave with some small shred of dignity. It didn't happen. Oh well, thanks to Rob and I, the Nevada Palace will be able to pay it's electric bill this month.
Pulling away from there for what I'm sure was the last time, we decided that we were hungry. It was after midnight by then, and I hadn't had anything to eat since that club sandy nine hours earlier. We decided on the Peppermill.
Making our way to the Strip, we arrived about 20 minutes later, and spent the first five minutes in the restroom, scrubbing like E.R. surgeons from the tip of our fingers all the way up to the elbows. Yep, I could literally feel the crud on my arms when I left the Nevada Palace, and it was a little creepy.
Breakfast was great--I had a vanilla milkshake and the chicken fried steak & eggs, with hashbrowns and sourdough toast. Rob had a Philly Cheesesteak, and I think we decided that as good a sandwich as it is, it's way overrated. But people from Philadelphia don't have much else to hang their hat on, so we kept the discussion to ourselves. But seriously-- a Monte Cristo totally kicks Cheesesteak ass. I'm just sayin'.
I got some much-needed sleep after that, and awoke the next day to Angy calling me up and telling me that she was almost checked out of her room. So I took a quick shower, made a quick stop at the bank to deposit what was left of my winnings, hit the post office to pick up my certified letter from the IRS telling me that they made a mistake--I didn't really owe them $900+ that they told me back in April, but that I actually owed them closer to $2300. Damn The Man! Ugh... Oh well, I wasn't going to let that piece of news ruin my day, so I tossed the letter in the glove compartment and headed for the Strip to pick up Angy.
You can read the rest of our adventures here. Basically we had a nice lunch, drank some good martinis, and then I dropped her off at the airport before heading home for a nap. I had to work that night, and it kinda sucked.
Is it March yet?
Mikey
They all flew home early on Sunday afternoon, leaving Angy here in town unsupervised, so she called me first thing Sunday morning and we made plans to spend the afternoon/evening together.
Once I got back over to the Paris, the first order of business was a cocktail. But when I saw the completely empty bottle of Captain Silver lying on the floor, I made the now-famous lament:
Why is all the rum gone?
It looked like the first order of business would be lunch, instead. I was going to try and talk her into holding out until later and going over to Maggiano's at the mall, but I didn't know at the time that my afternoon was already planned... So we ate at the cafe there at Paris.
We were seated immediately, ordered our usual appetizer of calamari (it sounds so much more exotic than 'fried squid') and thought about drinks. We settled on water, though. For lunch, Angy had the seafood crepes, and I had a big damn club sandwich. It was really good, but almost too big, so I took the middle slices of bread out and called it a BLT with turkey. Angy enjoyed her crepes, and I have no idea what the bill came to.
After lunch, we made our way over to the Frontier, as Sunday was the very last day it was open to the public before it's appointment with the wrecking ball.
And all I can say about that is It's about damn time! That place has been a dump for years--and the smell, oh my god--it absolutely reeked of puke and stale smoke. It was awful. Anyhow, we lurked around a bit before finding Tonya and Kikky hanging out at some slot machines, and from there the four of us headed towards the bar in the middle of the casino.
It was a mellow afternoon, so we ordered some drinks and just hung out and chatted. It was very interesting to watch the dynamic in the casino, however. It was still quite crowded, and yeah, they were still sweating the money like they always did--the table limits were $5 minimum to $100 maximum. I guess they didn't wanna take a beating in case somebody got lucky on the last day.
Apparently the employee's dining room was already closed down, as they had a potluck set up in the middle of the pit for everyone to munch on during their breaks:
Angy opted to play a little video poker, and actually won a couple of bucks while we were sitting there:
Inspired by her success, I wandered over to an empty Pai Gow table and bought in for a hundred. It seemed, for a moment, that I was in for another ass-kicking, but my luck turned, and after about a half-hour or so I was up $115, so I cashed out. Hell yeah--Stickin' it to the Frontier! Between that and the $500 I won there back in March Madness II after an epic dice roll, I own those bitches! (Although, 'owning' a puke-smelling dump like that isn't exactly something to brag about...)
I wandered over to the cage to get my cash before they shut me out, and just as I was walking up, a hottie with a huge fake rack ran up to me, gave me an enjoyable chest-bump and a hug, and insisted we get our picture taken together. Ok!
I tried to get a better picture, but that new camera Angy gave me takes some getting used to. This was the best I could do:
We were having an enjoyable conversation, right up to the point where she said You remind me of my boyfriend... He's around here somewhere.... So after that, I wandered back to the bar to 'dance with who I brung'.
Kikky, Tonya, and Angy
We hung out there at the bar for quite a bit, and had the honor of killing the very last bottle of Captain Morgan in the inventory. Once that was gone, we figured we had no reason to stick around.
The bartender shows us the very last bottle of The Captain to be served at the Frontier
On the way out the door, we figured we should get some souvenir dollar chips, so we stopped at the dead-on-one-end dice table and asked to buy a few chips.
Believe it or not, both the dealer and the boxman were complete assholes about it, refusing to sell us any. When I asked them why not, they said, If we sell them to you, we'll have to sell them to everyone.
I motioned to the non-existent line of people at their game and asked You mean all these people who aren't here?
They weren't budging, but when I finally got the floorperson involved, they had to sell them to me. Seriously--WTF? I don't understand why they had to be such dicks about it. So Doc and Ron, your dollar chips have been secured, even though it took a bit of hoop-jumping.
We'd been there for a few hours, and none of us were unhappy to leave. From the always-surly employees, to endless amount of duct-tape on the carpets and chairs, to the ever-present stench, I'm surprised the place has made it this long. I'll be glad to see this one finally imploded. It's funny, I was a little sad to see the Stardust go. But the Frontier? Forget it--push the damn button already!
From there we made our way up to Treasure Island, where we sat in the bar at Isla drinking margaritas (Pacifico, actually, for me) and eating chips and salsa. Well, I actually only had about four chips the entire time, but I watched Angy plow through two bowls like a stoner going through a bag of Cheetos. She said she just couldn't stop! After a couple of rounds and some good conversation, we decided to do a little gambling. Here it was Sunday night, and Angy hadn't played a single hand of blackjack yet!
That wouldn't do, so we found an empty $5 single-deck 6:5 game and sat down. It was actually pretty fun, and a guy joined us who seemed to have the magic touch when it came to cutting the deck, so we insisted that he do it every time. I ended up doing pretty well, and was up another $60 after finally losing four hands in a row, so I pulled the ripcord. I don't remember how Kikky did, but I think Angy was just about even.
We were both pretty tired when we cashed out, so after hitting the cage, we said goodbye to Kikky and headed back to Paris. I dropped Angy off so she could get some sleep, and I headed home.
Falcon Rob was off of work, and sitting in the living room watching TV. After giving him a rehash of my day, he suggested that since it was his 90-day anniversary of quitting his break-in dice-dealing job and he was now allowed to play at his old casino, we should go back over for some dollar craps.
Well, I was up over $150 for the day, so of course I agreed that it was a good idea.
So we headed out to Boulder Highway and the cheesy goodness of The Palace. No, not Ceasars Palace, the other one. No, not the Imperial Palace, the other other one... The Nevada Palace. Oh yeah--it's pretty bad. I think it won the LVRJ Best of Vegas award for 'Most Likely Place To Catch The Clap Without Actually Getting Laid'. It made the Frontier look at least as classy as the Gold Spike.
Well, we bought in, but as Rob put it, it was a comedy of errors. I was betting the pass line at first, and the table was cold, so I lost about $30 before changing to the Dark Side, when of course the dice got so hot that the fleas were making a fortune on all the fours and tens, so I lost another quick $30 before giving up, hoping to leave with some small shred of dignity. It didn't happen. Oh well, thanks to Rob and I, the Nevada Palace will be able to pay it's electric bill this month.
Pulling away from there for what I'm sure was the last time, we decided that we were hungry. It was after midnight by then, and I hadn't had anything to eat since that club sandy nine hours earlier. We decided on the Peppermill.
Making our way to the Strip, we arrived about 20 minutes later, and spent the first five minutes in the restroom, scrubbing like E.R. surgeons from the tip of our fingers all the way up to the elbows. Yep, I could literally feel the crud on my arms when I left the Nevada Palace, and it was a little creepy.
Breakfast was great--I had a vanilla milkshake and the chicken fried steak & eggs, with hashbrowns and sourdough toast. Rob had a Philly Cheesesteak, and I think we decided that as good a sandwich as it is, it's way overrated. But people from Philadelphia don't have much else to hang their hat on, so we kept the discussion to ourselves. But seriously-- a Monte Cristo totally kicks Cheesesteak ass. I'm just sayin'.
I got some much-needed sleep after that, and awoke the next day to Angy calling me up and telling me that she was almost checked out of her room. So I took a quick shower, made a quick stop at the bank to deposit what was left of my winnings, hit the post office to pick up my certified letter from the IRS telling me that they made a mistake--I didn't really owe them $900+ that they told me back in April, but that I actually owed them closer to $2300. Damn The Man! Ugh... Oh well, I wasn't going to let that piece of news ruin my day, so I tossed the letter in the glove compartment and headed for the Strip to pick up Angy.
You can read the rest of our adventures here. Basically we had a nice lunch, drank some good martinis, and then I dropped her off at the airport before heading home for a nap. I had to work that night, and it kinda sucked.
Is it March yet?
Mikey
Kindness
I want to thank everyone who has offered kind words and encouragement in my comments section today, and also sent along emails with links and information. I really appreciate all of the thoughts and prayers on behalf of me and my family.
Yes, I truly wish I could be back in Tennessee right now, but I'm afraid I'd just be in the way. Having never had to deal with a death in the family, it's a very difficult time. Yes, my grandparents have all passed away, but their deaths were not unexpected at the time, and there was more of a sense of relief because of the end of suffering than of grief. But even so, I honestly think that I'm glad I'm not there--I have no idea how to act or what to say. I suppose it's good to not be an expert on such things, but it makes me feel somewhat less than human that I can just flip the switch and act like there is nothing amiss.
I feel sad when I think about it, but my natural response is to not think about it, which makes me feel shitty. My mom and siblings are doing enough worrying, and adding my portion of emotional distress to the mix doesn't seem like it would help at all. So here I am, 1500 miles away, feeling strangely detached.
I guess I just don't know how to feel.
As far as answering the questions that have come my way, it's not a blood relative--It's my sister Cyndi's husband David. He's probably the healthiest member of our family, having just run a half-marathon a couple months ago. It's truly a shock. But his mother died of lung cancer, so he mentioned that he was afraid that was the problem before the surgery last week where it was discovered.
And no, nobody in the family has ever had cancer or any of the other rare or exotic diseases. Besides having a tendency to be overweight, our family is actually pretty damn healthy. But like I said, he's not a blood relative, although I've always considered him to be my brother.
Also, for those that have asked, I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. Not once. I only smoke cigars (maybe four a month), and those are not inhaled. If I'm gonna catch it, it'll be from all the secondhand smoking I do at work.
If there is any shred of goodness that could come of this horrible situation, it's that I'm hoping this scares my other brother David (Reverend Dave, my blood brother) into quitting smoking. He never smoked at all until the week he graduated from college, and I think he's got a two-pack a day habit now. His second wife was a smoker, and that didn't help at all.
If he's gonna smoke, it should only be when he comes to Vegas...
Oh well. I'm feeling a little better after letting the world know. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but I have no experience with this type of thing.
Let's hope I never again need it.
Mikey
Yes, I truly wish I could be back in Tennessee right now, but I'm afraid I'd just be in the way. Having never had to deal with a death in the family, it's a very difficult time. Yes, my grandparents have all passed away, but their deaths were not unexpected at the time, and there was more of a sense of relief because of the end of suffering than of grief. But even so, I honestly think that I'm glad I'm not there--I have no idea how to act or what to say. I suppose it's good to not be an expert on such things, but it makes me feel somewhat less than human that I can just flip the switch and act like there is nothing amiss.
I feel sad when I think about it, but my natural response is to not think about it, which makes me feel shitty. My mom and siblings are doing enough worrying, and adding my portion of emotional distress to the mix doesn't seem like it would help at all. So here I am, 1500 miles away, feeling strangely detached.
I guess I just don't know how to feel.
As far as answering the questions that have come my way, it's not a blood relative--It's my sister Cyndi's husband David. He's probably the healthiest member of our family, having just run a half-marathon a couple months ago. It's truly a shock. But his mother died of lung cancer, so he mentioned that he was afraid that was the problem before the surgery last week where it was discovered.
And no, nobody in the family has ever had cancer or any of the other rare or exotic diseases. Besides having a tendency to be overweight, our family is actually pretty damn healthy. But like I said, he's not a blood relative, although I've always considered him to be my brother.
Also, for those that have asked, I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. Not once. I only smoke cigars (maybe four a month), and those are not inhaled. If I'm gonna catch it, it'll be from all the secondhand smoking I do at work.
If there is any shred of goodness that could come of this horrible situation, it's that I'm hoping this scares my other brother David (Reverend Dave, my blood brother) into quitting smoking. He never smoked at all until the week he graduated from college, and I think he's got a two-pack a day habit now. His second wife was a smoker, and that didn't help at all.
If he's gonna smoke, it should only be when he comes to Vegas...
Oh well. I'm feeling a little better after letting the world know. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but I have no experience with this type of thing.
Let's hope I never again need it.
Mikey
38 Years Ago Today
If there were any justice in the world, Ted will eventually go the same way. Only more slowly. And with spectators looking on.
I don't know why this has always bothered me.
I can't even get away with a parking ticket.
Mikey
I don't know why this has always bothered me.
I can't even get away with a parking ticket.
Mikey
Ups and Downs
Hey gang, I know everyone is patiently waiting for a detailed report about an epic weekend with Angy, but the truth is, it's very hard to write at this point. I'm just not feeling creative at the moment, and it has to do with some very bad news I got this past weekend.
It seems that someone very close to me is extremely sick. I got the news on Friday afternoon from Nashville, and I've kind of been hanging by the phone ever since. And it put a bit of a damper on the rest of the weekend with Angy--Sunday and Monday were extremely mellow--we didn't get stupid drunk or thrown out of any club or casino, or have any silly adventures like we normally do. We had an enjoyable visit, and I loved having her here, but there was not much buffoonery.
In fact I spent a good chunk of the weekend on the computer learning all I could about stage IV lung cancer. The phone calls from home were not encouraging at all, either. The doctors were using words like 'inoperable', 'fatal', 'incurable' and so forth. There was absolutely *no* good news or silver lining, and the whole family has been keeping vigil down at Vanderbilt Medical Center for the past several days. More tests to see how far it has spread are on the agenda, along with a course of treatment. But treatment won't do anything but delay the inevitable.
The bottom line is, we're going to lose a very dear family member, and much sooner than they deserve to go.
A bit later on, I'll try and recall the weekend's activities, but it might be awhile. I make no promises.
Mikey
It seems that someone very close to me is extremely sick. I got the news on Friday afternoon from Nashville, and I've kind of been hanging by the phone ever since. And it put a bit of a damper on the rest of the weekend with Angy--Sunday and Monday were extremely mellow--we didn't get stupid drunk or thrown out of any club or casino, or have any silly adventures like we normally do. We had an enjoyable visit, and I loved having her here, but there was not much buffoonery.
In fact I spent a good chunk of the weekend on the computer learning all I could about stage IV lung cancer. The phone calls from home were not encouraging at all, either. The doctors were using words like 'inoperable', 'fatal', 'incurable' and so forth. There was absolutely *no* good news or silver lining, and the whole family has been keeping vigil down at Vanderbilt Medical Center for the past several days. More tests to see how far it has spread are on the agenda, along with a course of treatment. But treatment won't do anything but delay the inevitable.
The bottom line is, we're going to lose a very dear family member, and much sooner than they deserve to go.
A bit later on, I'll try and recall the weekend's activities, but it might be awhile. I make no promises.
Mikey
Monday, July 16, 2007
Back Home Again
Hey everyone--I just got home from dropping Angy off at the airport--yes, it was another sad goodbye, but of course it's tempered by the fact that she'll be back again in a few months--March at the latest.
Anyhow, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to take a short nap this afternoon before heading into work tonight. I've only got one or two errands to run tomorrow, and I'm off for a couple of days, so I'll post an update in the morning.
Mikey
Anyhow, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to take a short nap this afternoon before heading into work tonight. I've only got one or two errands to run tomorrow, and I'm off for a couple of days, so I'll post an update in the morning.
Mikey
Friday, July 13, 2007
A Few Things I've Seen In The Casino.
A huge gaping hole in the pit where the Rapid Roulette table used to be. Oh hell yeah!
A rookie blackjack dealer paying $140 for an $80 blackjack. At least I could tell he wasn't from Harrahs. They'd never pay 3.5 to 2 for a snapper.
A dealer getting taken off of a game and walked out by security with a floorperson in tow. That always makes the night more interesting.
A Pai Gow player getting a Royal Flush, then when she thought the dealer wasn't looking, pushing a $5 chip from the top of their base bet over to the top of their bonus bet, trying to score a $1500 payout instead of a $750 payout.
That same Pai Gow player getting zip-tied and carried away by Security a few minutes later. And then they won the Dumbass of the Year award because it was soon discovered that the person was a dealer at another property. Was a dealer.
A guy walking out of the restroom trailing a line of toilet paper about 30 feet long behind him.
A drunk-ass player knocking an entire glass of red wine into the dealer's chip rack.
One of the dice from the craps game fly off the table and land in a drink on the cocktail waitress's tray as she was walking by.
A ball getting launched off of the roulette wheel and landing in a garbage can 15 feet away. (I was actually the one who did that--it was one of my proudest moments as a dealer!)
Two old geezers in wheelchairs fighting over a slot machine.
A guy lose $2000 in about two hours, and then told the dealer You're the reason my kids don't have any food just as he was leaving.
A guy with an oxygen tank asking for a cigarette comp.
A shooter playing the Pass Line and the Don't Pass Line at the same time. And the stickman pushing the dice to him and saying--with a straight face--Your point is twelve, sir...
Mikey
A rookie blackjack dealer paying $140 for an $80 blackjack. At least I could tell he wasn't from Harrahs. They'd never pay 3.5 to 2 for a snapper.
A dealer getting taken off of a game and walked out by security with a floorperson in tow. That always makes the night more interesting.
A Pai Gow player getting a Royal Flush, then when she thought the dealer wasn't looking, pushing a $5 chip from the top of their base bet over to the top of their bonus bet, trying to score a $1500 payout instead of a $750 payout.
That same Pai Gow player getting zip-tied and carried away by Security a few minutes later. And then they won the Dumbass of the Year award because it was soon discovered that the person was a dealer at another property. Was a dealer.
A guy walking out of the restroom trailing a line of toilet paper about 30 feet long behind him.
A drunk-ass player knocking an entire glass of red wine into the dealer's chip rack.
One of the dice from the craps game fly off the table and land in a drink on the cocktail waitress's tray as she was walking by.
A ball getting launched off of the roulette wheel and landing in a garbage can 15 feet away. (I was actually the one who did that--it was one of my proudest moments as a dealer!)
Two old geezers in wheelchairs fighting over a slot machine.
A guy lose $2000 in about two hours, and then told the dealer You're the reason my kids don't have any food just as he was leaving.
A guy with an oxygen tank asking for a cigarette comp.
A shooter playing the Pass Line and the Don't Pass Line at the same time. And the stickman pushing the dice to him and saying--with a straight face--Your point is twelve, sir...
Mikey
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Recovery
Leftover pizza, a bottle of Coke, and two Aleve tablets--I'm feeling like a champ this afternoon!
Yes, I'm finally awake after yesterday's epic adventures, although I'm moving kind of slowly. I have to leave for work in about four hours, and hopefully I should be up to full speed by then. Luckily it'll be an easy night--probably nothing but Pai Gow and carnival games for Mikey at the casino tonight. At least that's what I'm hoping. I really don't want to deal blackjack and have to add up all those low numbers thousands of times.
Anyhow.
Yesterday was a blast. I got up early, doctored up a few bottles of Diet Coke by pouring off the 'angels share' and refilling them with Captain Morgan, putting them on ice, and packing them in a small insulated lunch cooler. I also stopped at Walgreens for a couple of sports bottles that would come in handy later in the afternoon.
The next thing I did was show up at the airport unexpectedly and wait at the Allegiant baggage claim carousel hoping Angy and her sisters would show up. They did, eventually--they were the absolute last three people to come claim their luggage, long after the carousel had stopped turning. I panicked at first, thinking they'd missed their flight, but it turns out that after three and a half hours in the air, somebody needed a cigarette before picking up her bags. We eventually found each other, and I graciously offered to haul them all to their hotel, saving them the money and the hassle of waiting in the cab line. They also appreciated the icy-cold cocktails I'd brought along with me--nothing beats having a drink at the airport to kick off a Vegas trip!
So all the luggage went in the back, and the four of us (me, Angy, and her two sisters, Gail and Jackie) piled into the truck and headed toward Paris. Leaving the truck in the capable hands of the valet, and ditching the bags with the bellman, we headed for the long line at the registration desk.
Angy's attempt at the '$20 trick' was rebuffed once again, but it's tough to upgrade to a Calais Suite when you're asking for two adjoining rooms. There was no free upgrade available, but luckily she got the adjoining rooms she asked for, on the fourth floor overlooking the shady part of the pool deck.
The first order of business was to call the bellman and have the bags delivered, and as soon as they arrived, we broke out the Captain, filled up the sports bottles with rum, ice, and Coke for the pool and changed into swimsuits. Angy's goal was to be at the pool 20 minutes after checking in, and I think we may have just slid in under the wire.
Even though it was hot-hot-hot outside, she insisted on finding a sunny spot to set up camp (not hard to do with two acres of bare concrete surrounding the pool). I slathered myself in sunscreen while Angy rounded up some frozen fruity drinks and turned off her cellphone, and a few minutes later we toasted the beginning of another Vegas adventure.
It wasn't long before I was roasting in my own juices, so I insisted on hot-footing it over to the pool and getting in the water. Angy agreed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon neck deep in the cool refreshing oasis of the Paris pool. We also started talking to a couple of young hotties from Orange county who were having a 24-hour getaway from life in SoCal, and it was a fascinating conversation. Turns out that one of them is the person who chooses all of the 'soundtrack' flashback music for that tv show 'Cold Case'.
Just goes to show that you never know who you're gonna meet while lounging around the pool in Vegas, sipping on seventeen-dollar Pina Coladas!
After about three hours of sun-worship, we decided that we'd had enough and headed back up to the room. We lounged there for just a bit before heading out. One of Angy's sisters had the unfortunate luck to get a heat-induced migraine, and the other one was meeting up with some other friends, so we took off.
Angy had obviously never seen the new place, so she wanted to come check out the new apartment. I wasn't planning on having her over until Saturday, so it was less-than-immaculate when we got there. Oh well, it's not like she hasn't seen my messy room before, so it was no big deal having a pile of laundry climbing the wall. At least the bathroom and kitchen were clean. And she claims the title of being the first chick to come over and visit our luxurious new digs.
We hung out for about 45 minutes or so, and I packed a bag with some slacks, decent shoes, and a nice shirt, as the tentative plan was to go over to the Palms later that night and Hef it up at the Playboy Club.
We hit the road, and traffic on the 215 was just getting cranked up to full-on rush-hour goodness. Once we got past the bottleneck of the required daily accident, we decided to head over to New York Pizza and Pasta for dinner. Suprisingly, I-15 northbound was absolutely deserted, leaving me to believe that there was some sort of huge bloody accident somewhere between Primm and the 215 keeping people from getting to Vegas from the south, but I didn't complain that I could actually do 80 mph on a stretch of freeway that usually sees a top speed of about 15 mph on average.
Dinner, of course, was fantastic--we ordered two large pies, a ham & onion and a pepperoni & sausage. We both ate four slices, leaving the equivalent of an entire pie to take home (which Rob and I finished off this afternoon).
We got back to the hotel around 8 pm, and spent the next half-hour or so showering, changing, and getting ready to go out again. The plan was to head over to the Sahara and see the 9:00 pm Savannah Jack show (by the way, they got a nice, if brief write-up here). For those of you that don't know, my connection to the band is that the guitar/fiddle player, Mike Ulvila, is married to my niece Ally, so I try and go see them play whenever they're in town.
Anyhow, after cabbing it over to the Sahara, we got to the Casbar Lounge just in time for the first song. There were only two other couples in the lounge when we got there, but by the end of the set, several other people had gotten sucked in by the good music. The show was great, as usual, and afterwards we got to visit with the guys for a bit before they had to go 'take care of bidness' with some other booking agents and whatnot who were in attendance that night.
Angy bought a couple of autographed CDs and we said goodbye, hoping to make our fortune on the Elvis slots. The progressive jackpot was up to about $350,000, so we took a shot at it. Unfortunately, the King was not in a giving mood, and I lost $40 before we ever saw a cocktail waitress. Angy, however, did much better and actually won ten bucks.
Figuring we'd get better drink service at the tables, we headed for a $10 Pai Gow game. While the cocktail service was certainly better, you'd figure that the waitress would know the difference between a lemon and a lime. Well, you'd figure, but you'd be wrong. Once we got that issue straightened out, it was smooth sailing as far as the drinks were concerned. The cards, however, weren't so accommodating, and after about an hour, I'd lost my entire buy-in. Angy did a little better, being down only ten bucks for the entire night.
After a quick stop at the cage--cashing chips for her, breaking a hundred for me, we cabbed it back to Paris. We hoped to play a little Rapid Roulette over at Bally's, but as soon as we sat down, we realized just how tired we were. It was after midnight, and Angy's system was still on Central time. After traveling all morning, hanging out in the hot-ass sun all afternoon, eating a big meal that night, and drinking heavily all day, it was beginning to take it's toll.
Instead of chasing numbers, we stumbled back up to the room and crashed. I couldn't stay there, though, as she only had a king-sized bed in the room and her sister was due to come back at some point and stay there, too. I've made some bold moves in the past, but didn't think it would be a wise move to try and pull off the double with Angy and her sister. So after napping a bit and sobering up, I drove home around 3:00 am. I did, however, learn that it's possible to make it from Paris to Green Valley Ranch in less than 15 minutes. And since the trek from GVR to my pillow is less than three minutes, I was asleep by 3:30, not waking up until early afternoon.
But the Aleve is kicking in, and aside from the normal aches and pains of being a 40 year old guy who's built like a beer keg, I guess I'm good to go.
Like I said, I've got to work tonight and tomorrow, so I won't see Angy again until Saturday. Which is cool, because she'll get to spend a lot of vacation time with her sisters. They're seeing a couple of shows and doing more pool time while I'm off doing my thing, and we'll hook up again this weekend. I think we're having dinner at Casa de Amore on Saturday night, followed by a few hours of cocktails and white-people-dancing. I think I'll leave the camera behind on that night. Her sisters leave on Sunday afternoon, but we're going to head over to the Frontier one last time before the wrecking ball hits, getting one last chance to enjoy the heady aroma of duct tape and stale beer.
We might also put in a bid for their mechanical bull from Gilley's, as I happen to know a couple of chicks who have some experience with that type of thing.
Mikey
Yes, I'm finally awake after yesterday's epic adventures, although I'm moving kind of slowly. I have to leave for work in about four hours, and hopefully I should be up to full speed by then. Luckily it'll be an easy night--probably nothing but Pai Gow and carnival games for Mikey at the casino tonight. At least that's what I'm hoping. I really don't want to deal blackjack and have to add up all those low numbers thousands of times.
Anyhow.
Yesterday was a blast. I got up early, doctored up a few bottles of Diet Coke by pouring off the 'angels share' and refilling them with Captain Morgan, putting them on ice, and packing them in a small insulated lunch cooler. I also stopped at Walgreens for a couple of sports bottles that would come in handy later in the afternoon.
The next thing I did was show up at the airport unexpectedly and wait at the Allegiant baggage claim carousel hoping Angy and her sisters would show up. They did, eventually--they were the absolute last three people to come claim their luggage, long after the carousel had stopped turning. I panicked at first, thinking they'd missed their flight, but it turns out that after three and a half hours in the air, somebody needed a cigarette before picking up her bags. We eventually found each other, and I graciously offered to haul them all to their hotel, saving them the money and the hassle of waiting in the cab line. They also appreciated the icy-cold cocktails I'd brought along with me--nothing beats having a drink at the airport to kick off a Vegas trip!
So all the luggage went in the back, and the four of us (me, Angy, and her two sisters, Gail and Jackie) piled into the truck and headed toward Paris. Leaving the truck in the capable hands of the valet, and ditching the bags with the bellman, we headed for the long line at the registration desk.
Angy's attempt at the '$20 trick' was rebuffed once again, but it's tough to upgrade to a Calais Suite when you're asking for two adjoining rooms. There was no free upgrade available, but luckily she got the adjoining rooms she asked for, on the fourth floor overlooking the shady part of the pool deck.
The first order of business was to call the bellman and have the bags delivered, and as soon as they arrived, we broke out the Captain, filled up the sports bottles with rum, ice, and Coke for the pool and changed into swimsuits. Angy's goal was to be at the pool 20 minutes after checking in, and I think we may have just slid in under the wire.
Even though it was hot-hot-hot outside, she insisted on finding a sunny spot to set up camp (not hard to do with two acres of bare concrete surrounding the pool). I slathered myself in sunscreen while Angy rounded up some frozen fruity drinks and turned off her cellphone, and a few minutes later we toasted the beginning of another Vegas adventure.
It wasn't long before I was roasting in my own juices, so I insisted on hot-footing it over to the pool and getting in the water. Angy agreed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon neck deep in the cool refreshing oasis of the Paris pool. We also started talking to a couple of young hotties from Orange county who were having a 24-hour getaway from life in SoCal, and it was a fascinating conversation. Turns out that one of them is the person who chooses all of the 'soundtrack' flashback music for that tv show 'Cold Case'.
Just goes to show that you never know who you're gonna meet while lounging around the pool in Vegas, sipping on seventeen-dollar Pina Coladas!
After about three hours of sun-worship, we decided that we'd had enough and headed back up to the room. We lounged there for just a bit before heading out. One of Angy's sisters had the unfortunate luck to get a heat-induced migraine, and the other one was meeting up with some other friends, so we took off.
Angy had obviously never seen the new place, so she wanted to come check out the new apartment. I wasn't planning on having her over until Saturday, so it was less-than-immaculate when we got there. Oh well, it's not like she hasn't seen my messy room before, so it was no big deal having a pile of laundry climbing the wall. At least the bathroom and kitchen were clean. And she claims the title of being the first chick to come over and visit our luxurious new digs.
We hung out for about 45 minutes or so, and I packed a bag with some slacks, decent shoes, and a nice shirt, as the tentative plan was to go over to the Palms later that night and Hef it up at the Playboy Club.
We hit the road, and traffic on the 215 was just getting cranked up to full-on rush-hour goodness. Once we got past the bottleneck of the required daily accident, we decided to head over to New York Pizza and Pasta for dinner. Suprisingly, I-15 northbound was absolutely deserted, leaving me to believe that there was some sort of huge bloody accident somewhere between Primm and the 215 keeping people from getting to Vegas from the south, but I didn't complain that I could actually do 80 mph on a stretch of freeway that usually sees a top speed of about 15 mph on average.
Dinner, of course, was fantastic--we ordered two large pies, a ham & onion and a pepperoni & sausage. We both ate four slices, leaving the equivalent of an entire pie to take home (which Rob and I finished off this afternoon).
We got back to the hotel around 8 pm, and spent the next half-hour or so showering, changing, and getting ready to go out again. The plan was to head over to the Sahara and see the 9:00 pm Savannah Jack show (by the way, they got a nice, if brief write-up here). For those of you that don't know, my connection to the band is that the guitar/fiddle player, Mike Ulvila, is married to my niece Ally, so I try and go see them play whenever they're in town.
Anyhow, after cabbing it over to the Sahara, we got to the Casbar Lounge just in time for the first song. There were only two other couples in the lounge when we got there, but by the end of the set, several other people had gotten sucked in by the good music. The show was great, as usual, and afterwards we got to visit with the guys for a bit before they had to go 'take care of bidness' with some other booking agents and whatnot who were in attendance that night.
Angy bought a couple of autographed CDs and we said goodbye, hoping to make our fortune on the Elvis slots. The progressive jackpot was up to about $350,000, so we took a shot at it. Unfortunately, the King was not in a giving mood, and I lost $40 before we ever saw a cocktail waitress. Angy, however, did much better and actually won ten bucks.
Figuring we'd get better drink service at the tables, we headed for a $10 Pai Gow game. While the cocktail service was certainly better, you'd figure that the waitress would know the difference between a lemon and a lime. Well, you'd figure, but you'd be wrong. Once we got that issue straightened out, it was smooth sailing as far as the drinks were concerned. The cards, however, weren't so accommodating, and after about an hour, I'd lost my entire buy-in. Angy did a little better, being down only ten bucks for the entire night.
After a quick stop at the cage--cashing chips for her, breaking a hundred for me, we cabbed it back to Paris. We hoped to play a little Rapid Roulette over at Bally's, but as soon as we sat down, we realized just how tired we were. It was after midnight, and Angy's system was still on Central time. After traveling all morning, hanging out in the hot-ass sun all afternoon, eating a big meal that night, and drinking heavily all day, it was beginning to take it's toll.
Instead of chasing numbers, we stumbled back up to the room and crashed. I couldn't stay there, though, as she only had a king-sized bed in the room and her sister was due to come back at some point and stay there, too. I've made some bold moves in the past, but didn't think it would be a wise move to try and pull off the double with Angy and her sister. So after napping a bit and sobering up, I drove home around 3:00 am. I did, however, learn that it's possible to make it from Paris to Green Valley Ranch in less than 15 minutes. And since the trek from GVR to my pillow is less than three minutes, I was asleep by 3:30, not waking up until early afternoon.
But the Aleve is kicking in, and aside from the normal aches and pains of being a 40 year old guy who's built like a beer keg, I guess I'm good to go.
Like I said, I've got to work tonight and tomorrow, so I won't see Angy again until Saturday. Which is cool, because she'll get to spend a lot of vacation time with her sisters. They're seeing a couple of shows and doing more pool time while I'm off doing my thing, and we'll hook up again this weekend. I think we're having dinner at Casa de Amore on Saturday night, followed by a few hours of cocktails and white-people-dancing. I think I'll leave the camera behind on that night. Her sisters leave on Sunday afternoon, but we're going to head over to the Frontier one last time before the wrecking ball hits, getting one last chance to enjoy the heady aroma of duct tape and stale beer.
We might also put in a bid for their mechanical bull from Gilley's, as I happen to know a couple of chicks who have some experience with that type of thing.
Mikey
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Absentia
Hey gang...
Haven't had a whole lot to say in the past couple of days, but truth be told, I spent most of yesterday sleeping. And I plan on spending most of today drinking.
A quick peak on flightview.com tells me that Angy's plane is arriving about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, giving me just enough time to shower, shave, pack a bag, pack another bag full of booze and such, and then point the truck Strip-ward.
The plan is to spend most of the afternoon slowly roasting in the sun at the Paris pool, followed by hitting the Sahara later tonight to see that soon-to-be-famous band, Savannah Jack.
I should have lots of interesting stories and pictures later in the week.
Mikey
Haven't had a whole lot to say in the past couple of days, but truth be told, I spent most of yesterday sleeping. And I plan on spending most of today drinking.
A quick peak on flightview.com tells me that Angy's plane is arriving about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, giving me just enough time to shower, shave, pack a bag, pack another bag full of booze and such, and then point the truck Strip-ward.
The plan is to spend most of the afternoon slowly roasting in the sun at the Paris pool, followed by hitting the Sahara later tonight to see that soon-to-be-famous band, Savannah Jack.
I should have lots of interesting stories and pictures later in the week.
Mikey
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Another Good Day, Tater!
Well, here it is almost 6:00 am, I'm home from a very busy night at work, and I have a surprising amount of energy--I'm not quite ready to hit The Blob. It might have something to do with that Breakfast of Champions I had at 2:30 this morning--a plate of bacon and a glass of Mountain Dew.
As a bonus, I managed to talk my way into getting the half-hour early out for a full toke share but only working until 3:20. I always like it when I can pull that one off, especially on a weekend.
But there was even more good news--We're finally getting rid of the Rapid Roulette game next week. Thank god! I am so sick of dealing that game. I usually spend the last two hours of my shift just standing around hoping we can close it, and between the four dealers it takes to run the thing over the course of a night, we're lucky if we drop $50 in tips between us. It sucks soooo bad. And I've been stuck on it *every* Friday and Saturday night for a year straight. I think once we get rid of that waste of space, every dealers' tokes will go up about ten bucks a night on the weekends!
There is also a rumor going around that the crazy psycho biatch dealer on our shift that everyone hates (players and dealers alike), finally got fired. I'm not sure if it's true, so I'll temper my celebration until I find out for sure. But that's what everyone is talking about, and I hope it's true. She's pissed off so many players and had so many complaints against her that I'm surprised that she made it this long. Again, if she's gone, we'll probably see a noticeable increase in our nightly tokes.
Speaking of tokes, we're having a pretty good week. And today is 7-7-07, and every superstitious gambler in the world will be out today--should be another good night tonight. Although, with it being as hot as it is here in town this week (record temps, I believe--every day over 115 degrees), the casino is an absolute oven when you get all those thousands of people wandering through there. I swear I sweated off about 10 pounds last night--my head was shiny and dripping all night long, and I had to carry a towel around with me while I was dealing. It was miserable. Tonight is only going to be worse--there is only so much the air conditioning can do to cool down a hundred-thousand-square-foot room with huge vaulted ceilings that's full of bodies, lights, and electronics, so I'm considering bringing an extra black t-shirt with me to change into at the halfway point.
After I get some sleep, Rob's gonna get home from work and then it's back up to North Las Vegas one more time. His lease doesn't end at his old place until July 15th, so he's got a couple of things to clear out and clean before then. His old roommate left his a computer desk that he generously offered to me, since my desk/tower got ruined at the old house. The leaking shower seeped under the wall, into the carpet, and leached into the bottom of the desk. It was made out of particle board with a veneer cover, so the water seeped all the way up and ruined it over the course of the last year. As soon as I went to pick it up to move it, it came apart in my hands--just like the Bluesmobile as soon as Jake and Elwood arrived at the Cook County Assessor's Office. Seriously, it was like trying to move 80 pounds of wet sawdust that was stacked six feet high.
Once I get that desk over here, I'll finally have full use of my bedroom, and won't have to lay on the floor to surf the internet.
Also, while I was out running my errands yesterday, I got some *great* news. I stopped by my insurance agent's office to update my new address information, and now that I live in upper-middle-class Henderson, my premiums have dropped over $100 a month since I first got my truck. Oh hell yeah. The gal in the office told me that as soon as you ditch the Las Vegas Zip code, it costs just about half as much to insure a vehicle. Apparently, out here in Henderson, there is much less vandalism, thievery, and a lot fewer car accidents. Seriously, when I first brought the truck home last summer, my monthly insurance payment was almost $229, and that was for somebody with no accidents or tickets for ten years. It's now $125 and change every month! Woo hoo!!! And that's full coverage plus renters insurance on all my fine furnishings--The Blob, the leg-lamp, milk crates full of sailing magazines, etc...
Anyhow, finding that out certainly made my day.
Maybe when Rob gets home this afternoon, he'll be able to tell me what tokes were last night. And if they're as good as I *think* they were, my day will be made twice in a row!
Mikey
As a bonus, I managed to talk my way into getting the half-hour early out for a full toke share but only working until 3:20. I always like it when I can pull that one off, especially on a weekend.
But there was even more good news--We're finally getting rid of the Rapid Roulette game next week. Thank god! I am so sick of dealing that game. I usually spend the last two hours of my shift just standing around hoping we can close it, and between the four dealers it takes to run the thing over the course of a night, we're lucky if we drop $50 in tips between us. It sucks soooo bad. And I've been stuck on it *every* Friday and Saturday night for a year straight. I think once we get rid of that waste of space, every dealers' tokes will go up about ten bucks a night on the weekends!
There is also a rumor going around that the crazy psycho biatch dealer on our shift that everyone hates (players and dealers alike), finally got fired. I'm not sure if it's true, so I'll temper my celebration until I find out for sure. But that's what everyone is talking about, and I hope it's true. She's pissed off so many players and had so many complaints against her that I'm surprised that she made it this long. Again, if she's gone, we'll probably see a noticeable increase in our nightly tokes.
Speaking of tokes, we're having a pretty good week. And today is 7-7-07, and every superstitious gambler in the world will be out today--should be another good night tonight. Although, with it being as hot as it is here in town this week (record temps, I believe--every day over 115 degrees), the casino is an absolute oven when you get all those thousands of people wandering through there. I swear I sweated off about 10 pounds last night--my head was shiny and dripping all night long, and I had to carry a towel around with me while I was dealing. It was miserable. Tonight is only going to be worse--there is only so much the air conditioning can do to cool down a hundred-thousand-square-foot room with huge vaulted ceilings that's full of bodies, lights, and electronics, so I'm considering bringing an extra black t-shirt with me to change into at the halfway point.
After I get some sleep, Rob's gonna get home from work and then it's back up to North Las Vegas one more time. His lease doesn't end at his old place until July 15th, so he's got a couple of things to clear out and clean before then. His old roommate left his a computer desk that he generously offered to me, since my desk/tower got ruined at the old house. The leaking shower seeped under the wall, into the carpet, and leached into the bottom of the desk. It was made out of particle board with a veneer cover, so the water seeped all the way up and ruined it over the course of the last year. As soon as I went to pick it up to move it, it came apart in my hands--just like the Bluesmobile as soon as Jake and Elwood arrived at the Cook County Assessor's Office. Seriously, it was like trying to move 80 pounds of wet sawdust that was stacked six feet high.
Once I get that desk over here, I'll finally have full use of my bedroom, and won't have to lay on the floor to surf the internet.
Also, while I was out running my errands yesterday, I got some *great* news. I stopped by my insurance agent's office to update my new address information, and now that I live in upper-middle-class Henderson, my premiums have dropped over $100 a month since I first got my truck. Oh hell yeah. The gal in the office told me that as soon as you ditch the Las Vegas Zip code, it costs just about half as much to insure a vehicle. Apparently, out here in Henderson, there is much less vandalism, thievery, and a lot fewer car accidents. Seriously, when I first brought the truck home last summer, my monthly insurance payment was almost $229, and that was for somebody with no accidents or tickets for ten years. It's now $125 and change every month! Woo hoo!!! And that's full coverage plus renters insurance on all my fine furnishings--The Blob, the leg-lamp, milk crates full of sailing magazines, etc...
Anyhow, finding that out certainly made my day.
Maybe when Rob gets home this afternoon, he'll be able to tell me what tokes were last night. And if they're as good as I *think* they were, my day will be made twice in a row!
Mikey
Friday, July 06, 2007
Next Project
Well, Mamasan was right--I need something else to bitch about. Unfortunately, something has stepped up to fill the void. Apparently, about 25 songs (that I know of) on my iPod are completely corrupted. They either won't play at all, and skip right to the next song on the playlist, or after about 30 seconds or so of playing, they immediately skip to the end of the song and then shut down. I hope it's just corrupted files, and not a hard drive problem (and yeah, I tried them at both the 'root' level and also at the playlist level, and neither work. Luckily, it's limited to only one of my playlists, but it's the one with the most music on it).
None of my Jimmy Buffett has been adversely affected, thank goodness.
So at some point I'm going to have to sit down and listen to my entire music catalog (about 1000 songs so far), and note which ones are bad, delete them, and then reload them. It should be a real pain in the ass. But I've got until next March to do it, so there is no hurry. (Next March--Angy's suite party. We'll need enough music to keep the buffoons entertained for about eight hours!)
My work week started out on a good note last night. First of all, I found out that we made pretty good money on Monday night, so that was a nice way to kick off the new pay period. Second of all, I was only scheduled on two games, so it was a total walk in the park for the first four hours of my shift--40 minutes on, 20 minutes off. Of course, that makes the night go by slower, but I was on Pai Gow, so it was like a little mini-vacation. I picked up another table later on and had to an hour at blackjack and Let It Ride, but then I ended with 40 minutes at a $5 blackjack game where I just *crushed* everyone and then got out a half-hour early. Sweet!
One down, four to go. Then Angy gets here. Did I mention I'm taking a couple days off while she's here? I can't wait for that!
Ok, that's all for now. Sleepy time!
Mikey
None of my Jimmy Buffett has been adversely affected, thank goodness.
So at some point I'm going to have to sit down and listen to my entire music catalog (about 1000 songs so far), and note which ones are bad, delete them, and then reload them. It should be a real pain in the ass. But I've got until next March to do it, so there is no hurry. (Next March--Angy's suite party. We'll need enough music to keep the buffoons entertained for about eight hours!)
My work week started out on a good note last night. First of all, I found out that we made pretty good money on Monday night, so that was a nice way to kick off the new pay period. Second of all, I was only scheduled on two games, so it was a total walk in the park for the first four hours of my shift--40 minutes on, 20 minutes off. Of course, that makes the night go by slower, but I was on Pai Gow, so it was like a little mini-vacation. I picked up another table later on and had to an hour at blackjack and Let It Ride, but then I ended with 40 minutes at a $5 blackjack game where I just *crushed* everyone and then got out a half-hour early. Sweet!
One down, four to go. Then Angy gets here. Did I mention I'm taking a couple days off while she's here? I can't wait for that!
Ok, that's all for now. Sleepy time!
Mikey
Thursday, July 05, 2007
The Millennium Code...
C:\Users\Hurricane Mikey>net use z: \\oldcompaq\c ROADKILLThe command completed successfully. (Woot!!!)
Finally! After what seems like years, I finally got the new laptop to talk to the old-ass Compaq. I've had the network set up for a couple of weeks now, but for whatever mysterious reason, the two machines could not communicate with each other, so I could not move files from the old machine to the new one. I was tempted to just delete them and start over, but I had almost a thousand digital pics (not including the pr0n stash!), about 500 mp3s I wanted to keep, and dozens of Word/Excel/Text documents that I didn't want to lose. So I *had* to figure out a way of transferring them over, short of just copying everything onto disk manually and moving it over. That would take weeks.
I've been trying everything short of creating an ftp server, following all the directions on the "Network Wizard" (on both machines), but the bottom line is that Windows Vista is just not designed to talk to it's retarded cousin Millennium. They both say they can share files, but not with each other apparently, only with their 'own kind'. The worst part was setting up the old computer with a network password, but then the new one insisted on a user name and a password to get in. But there was no way to set up a user name on the old machine. It was ridiculous.
Anyhow, after giving up in frustration after two weeks, I finally called Big Stogie last night for a little Press-One-for-English technical support. We worked on it for over two hours before he finally came up with that little piece of digital voodoo I posted at the top of this entry. Frankly, we were both shocked when as soon as I hit the Enter button on the laptop, every file on my old Compaq suddenly showed up in Explorer window on the laptop display. Seriously, the two of us had a geek-fest happiness celebration not seen since that day in Mission Control back when the Apollo XIII astronauts finally splashed down. We couldn't believe we pulled it off!
So I immediately started dragging and dropping files into the hard drive on the Toshiba. The pictures took awhile, but moving 500+ mp3s has taken most of the night. As of right now, it says I have about 37 more minutes before everything is moved over and complete. Then I can go and delete whatever is left on the old hard drive, empty the recycle bin, and let Rob deal with it until he saves up enough cash for a new computer. But I'm about to wash my hands of the thing for the last time.
Damn, it feels good!
As far as my Fourth of July goes, I didn't do too much at all. I stuck around the house and finally got all of my unpacking done and cleared all of the boxes and such out of the dining room. I also hung up a few pictures, did some laundry, and spent several hours working on the computer stuff.
Rob went out with his old roommate, leaving me plenty of time to get the house put together. I know that if he would've stayed home last night, we would've just sat in front of the TV ooohing and ahhhing at Discovery HD Theatre for about eight hours straight. As it happens, I kept the History Channel going all day and night, as they were playing all episodes of The American Revolution back-to-back for about 12 hours straight. Interesting stuff, so I felt like I did a little bit of my patriotic duty, if not any actual celebrating.
But now my weekend is winding down--I've got to get some sleep at some point before heading back to the casino tonight (I've been up all night), and I still have a few errands to run later today.
If I can't sleep, I may write some more later...
Mikey
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Finally Made It!
Yee-Haw! The weekend is here! I know it's just a Tuesday morning for most of you folks, but the fact that my 'weekend' is here makes me giggle with unbounded happiness. It's been a very long week, and even though I tried to take an Early Out last night, I was denied once again because we were super-busy. (I can *never* get out early on my 'Friday' night. Ugh--it just irritates me to no end.)
Sunday didn't seem very busy, but we made decent money for a Sunday night (almost $175), and we have a lot fewer dealers working on Mondays--and the casino was hopping right down till the bitter end. So I'm thinking we made pretty damn good money last night. So good that I was afraid they were gonna ask for overtime... Luckily I dodged that bullet and got the 20-minute early push, collected the tokes, and headed for the door. I ran into my gal Denise on the way out to the parking garage--she was playing her weekly $5 in a video Keno machine--so I sat and visited with her for about ten minutes before heading home. Sadly she did not win the $136,000 Jumbo Jackpot this week either.
Today the plan is to get some sleep and then tackle the pile of boxes that are stacked in the dining room. I started on it yesterday but lost my motivation at some point. I might also get down to the post office and put in my change of address, which I'd forgotten to do last week, and I also need to go down to work and do the same at the HR office, and call my insurance company, too. Rob said his car insurance went down $120 per year by moving into this neighborhood, so I'm hoping to save a few bucks myself.
Of course, the first thing I did this morning was hop on the internet for a bit of surfing before I hit the sack, and I saw Angy lurking around the T2V forums, so I called her. I haven't talked to her in awhile, but she gets here a week from tomorrow, and I've got three days off while she's in town. We're both on a pretty limited budget this time around, so the plan is to spend most of our time at the pool drinking contraband cocktails--filling water bottles with Captain Morgan Silver and sneaking in our own Cokes.
I suppose I could smuggle the limes in my Speedo. Just got to remember to put them in front, that's all...
Anyhow, as much as I'm looking forward to her visit, I'm just happy for the time off away from work. I think she feels the same way. And she can now come over to the house and hang out without a weird-ass roommate bothering us. Seriously--he was just a little too interested in what we were doing whenever Angy was there, and it kind of creeped both of us out.
But those days are over. Rob is not nearly as creepy and likely doesn't give two shiats about what we're up to.
Whatever it is, it should be a good story.
Mikey
Sunday didn't seem very busy, but we made decent money for a Sunday night (almost $175), and we have a lot fewer dealers working on Mondays--and the casino was hopping right down till the bitter end. So I'm thinking we made pretty damn good money last night. So good that I was afraid they were gonna ask for overtime... Luckily I dodged that bullet and got the 20-minute early push, collected the tokes, and headed for the door. I ran into my gal Denise on the way out to the parking garage--she was playing her weekly $5 in a video Keno machine--so I sat and visited with her for about ten minutes before heading home. Sadly she did not win the $136,000 Jumbo Jackpot this week either.
Today the plan is to get some sleep and then tackle the pile of boxes that are stacked in the dining room. I started on it yesterday but lost my motivation at some point. I might also get down to the post office and put in my change of address, which I'd forgotten to do last week, and I also need to go down to work and do the same at the HR office, and call my insurance company, too. Rob said his car insurance went down $120 per year by moving into this neighborhood, so I'm hoping to save a few bucks myself.
Of course, the first thing I did this morning was hop on the internet for a bit of surfing before I hit the sack, and I saw Angy lurking around the T2V forums, so I called her. I haven't talked to her in awhile, but she gets here a week from tomorrow, and I've got three days off while she's in town. We're both on a pretty limited budget this time around, so the plan is to spend most of our time at the pool drinking contraband cocktails--filling water bottles with Captain Morgan Silver and sneaking in our own Cokes.
I suppose I could smuggle the limes in my Speedo. Just got to remember to put them in front, that's all...
Anyhow, as much as I'm looking forward to her visit, I'm just happy for the time off away from work. I think she feels the same way. And she can now come over to the house and hang out without a weird-ass roommate bothering us. Seriously--he was just a little too interested in what we were doing whenever Angy was there, and it kind of creeped both of us out.
But those days are over. Rob is not nearly as creepy and likely doesn't give two shiats about what we're up to.
Whatever it is, it should be a good story.
Mikey
Monday, July 02, 2007
Quirks
I absolutely *love* my new apartment. I finally got the last load of stuff over here on Saturday, and I never have to return to that old shiatty bad-retro 70's-era wood-paneled unhip hot-ass vortex of suck ever again. And I was so irritated with my old roommate that it was all I could do to not pummel him into a gooey mess on the driveway before I left (it's a long story that I don't feel like retelling here, but only because of my good graces did he escape an ass-beating that he truly had coming his way).
Anyhow, all my stuff is finally here, and almost completely moved in. There is a bunch of junk stacked in the dining room that needs to find a place, but once that's completed, the move is officially over. Of course, we have to move the liquor collection one more time before anything can get accomplished (It didn't fit on top of the fridge, and we need the bookshelf space that it's currently occupying, too).
But having been here for two weeks, I've noticed a few things that are a little off-kilter. First of all, my room is truly too small for a queen-sized bed, especially if I want to put a dresser, nightstand, bookshelf, and computer desk in here. So I think I'm in the market for a full-sized bed, instead. I had one over at the second place I lived in (the house *after* the stripper house), and it worked fine, and two people could sleep in it just fine--it belonged to that chick Lara I was seeing, and since we got along well at the time, it didn't seem too small. Besides, since it's not a queen or king bed, any overnight guests I might be entertaining would probably not want to stay the entire night, if you know what I mean...
A good salesman would call that a 'feature'.
Anyhow, besides the bedroom being a bit small, I've realized that my toilet runs forever once it's flushed. Maybe an adjustment can be made, but it hasn't gotten to the point where it irritates me yet. One thing that I don't like is the fact that my shower takes *forever* to warm up once I turn it on. I can crank it all the way over to full-on hot, and it's still three or four minutes before I get any steam. But once it finally decides to get hot, look out--it'll melt the grout right out of the tile. So then I have to turn it all the way back down and find a balance before I get cooked like a pot full of pasta. But the water pressure is fine and the shower head is made for tall people.
The washing machine, which is plumbed right next to my shower, but located just on the other side of the wall, gets hot instantly when it's set to do so. I haven't figured out that mystery just yet, but I'm working on it. And washing a load of towels the other day revealed that there is actually one leg on the washing machine that is shorter than the other three. I haven't adjusted it yet, but it's on the agenda this week.
Oh, and I've figured out that the calibration on the air conditioner is about twelve degrees off. If it's set at 84 degrees, it's actually about 72 degrees in the house. That's why we freeze our asses off at eighty. Eighty means sixty-eight. And coming in from 106, that's just a shock to the system. But man, I love having the ability to chill this place down like a meat locker.
It's like having Super-Hero powers, but they only work if I use them for good, not evil...
When we first moved in, everything else worked, but Rob said that the drain in his tub was messed up, so we had the maintenance guys come take a look. They replaced the stopper and cleaned out the pipes and all is well again. And we had them tighten up the bolts on the garbage disposal so it no longer rattles the entire counter when it comes on.
Now that we have a nice kitchen, I think we're going to discover that our fridge is too small. Both of us like to cook, and leftovers are becoming an issue along with all of the groceries that both of us stuff in there. Somehow we'll manage. But after I get some sleep this morning, I'm making another batch of biscuits and gravy. I made some a few days ago, but made the tragic mistake of using store-brand biscuits instead of Pilsbury Grands. They were awful, and detracted from my gravy masterpiece. So on the way home from work this morning, I stopped at Smith's and got a load of groceries, which included proper biscuits.
As far as the kitchen goes, we discovered that the burners on the gas stove are mislabeled on the knobs, but that's no big deal. Front is back, back is front, we figured it out right away by just putting the eggs on whichever burner had a blue flame.
Otherwise, this new apartment is perfect. It's clean, quiet, and serene. I've not seen a single child anywhere in this complex, no seen any dog poop. I have only heard the people that live upstairs one time, and that was a weekend and they were running the vacuum cleaner. Other than that, I haven't heard a peep.
My only gripe is my own fault. Living in a gated community is great, except that when I bought my truck last summer, I should've paid extra and got the model with the electric windows. Hand cranking the window each time I return home is slowly becoming a pain in the ass.
But the Ghetto Sled had electric windows. Sometimes. However, if I were still driving that hunk-0-crap, they probably would've never let me move in here. This is a nice neighborhood. No white trash allowed.
Mikey
Anyhow, all my stuff is finally here, and almost completely moved in. There is a bunch of junk stacked in the dining room that needs to find a place, but once that's completed, the move is officially over. Of course, we have to move the liquor collection one more time before anything can get accomplished (It didn't fit on top of the fridge, and we need the bookshelf space that it's currently occupying, too).
But having been here for two weeks, I've noticed a few things that are a little off-kilter. First of all, my room is truly too small for a queen-sized bed, especially if I want to put a dresser, nightstand, bookshelf, and computer desk in here. So I think I'm in the market for a full-sized bed, instead. I had one over at the second place I lived in (the house *after* the stripper house), and it worked fine, and two people could sleep in it just fine--it belonged to that chick Lara I was seeing, and since we got along well at the time, it didn't seem too small. Besides, since it's not a queen or king bed, any overnight guests I might be entertaining would probably not want to stay the entire night, if you know what I mean...
A good salesman would call that a 'feature'.
Anyhow, besides the bedroom being a bit small, I've realized that my toilet runs forever once it's flushed. Maybe an adjustment can be made, but it hasn't gotten to the point where it irritates me yet. One thing that I don't like is the fact that my shower takes *forever* to warm up once I turn it on. I can crank it all the way over to full-on hot, and it's still three or four minutes before I get any steam. But once it finally decides to get hot, look out--it'll melt the grout right out of the tile. So then I have to turn it all the way back down and find a balance before I get cooked like a pot full of pasta. But the water pressure is fine and the shower head is made for tall people.
The washing machine, which is plumbed right next to my shower, but located just on the other side of the wall, gets hot instantly when it's set to do so. I haven't figured out that mystery just yet, but I'm working on it. And washing a load of towels the other day revealed that there is actually one leg on the washing machine that is shorter than the other three. I haven't adjusted it yet, but it's on the agenda this week.
Oh, and I've figured out that the calibration on the air conditioner is about twelve degrees off. If it's set at 84 degrees, it's actually about 72 degrees in the house. That's why we freeze our asses off at eighty. Eighty means sixty-eight. And coming in from 106, that's just a shock to the system. But man, I love having the ability to chill this place down like a meat locker.
It's like having Super-Hero powers, but they only work if I use them for good, not evil...
When we first moved in, everything else worked, but Rob said that the drain in his tub was messed up, so we had the maintenance guys come take a look. They replaced the stopper and cleaned out the pipes and all is well again. And we had them tighten up the bolts on the garbage disposal so it no longer rattles the entire counter when it comes on.
Now that we have a nice kitchen, I think we're going to discover that our fridge is too small. Both of us like to cook, and leftovers are becoming an issue along with all of the groceries that both of us stuff in there. Somehow we'll manage. But after I get some sleep this morning, I'm making another batch of biscuits and gravy. I made some a few days ago, but made the tragic mistake of using store-brand biscuits instead of Pilsbury Grands. They were awful, and detracted from my gravy masterpiece. So on the way home from work this morning, I stopped at Smith's and got a load of groceries, which included proper biscuits.
As far as the kitchen goes, we discovered that the burners on the gas stove are mislabeled on the knobs, but that's no big deal. Front is back, back is front, we figured it out right away by just putting the eggs on whichever burner had a blue flame.
Otherwise, this new apartment is perfect. It's clean, quiet, and serene. I've not seen a single child anywhere in this complex, no seen any dog poop. I have only heard the people that live upstairs one time, and that was a weekend and they were running the vacuum cleaner. Other than that, I haven't heard a peep.
My only gripe is my own fault. Living in a gated community is great, except that when I bought my truck last summer, I should've paid extra and got the model with the electric windows. Hand cranking the window each time I return home is slowly becoming a pain in the ass.
But the Ghetto Sled had electric windows. Sometimes. However, if I were still driving that hunk-0-crap, they probably would've never let me move in here. This is a nice neighborhood. No white trash allowed.
Mikey
Saturday, June 30, 2007
I Was Going for Triple-X
But according to these folks, I fell just a bit short:
Must have something to do with the fact that the word 'ass' is mentioned thirteen times on the front page, and 'hurt' is mentioned three times. I wonder what would've happened if I featured more bunnies and rainbows.
But since I've already got the NC-17 rating, I may as well provide some content. Enjoy!
Mikey
Must have something to do with the fact that the word 'ass' is mentioned thirteen times on the front page, and 'hurt' is mentioned three times. I wonder what would've happened if I featured more bunnies and rainbows.
But since I've already got the NC-17 rating, I may as well provide some content. Enjoy!
Mikey
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Housewarming
As if the Indiana Jones trilogy on widescreen DVD wasn't enough, another package arrived yesterday from another generous benefactor. It seems that somebody was aware of the fact that the only glassware I have is a nice set of wine glasses I got from Hoya last Christmas, while the rest of my drinkware consists of sportsbottles and plastic tumblers from the sale rack at Target. But even so, I was quite surprised to see the UPS man standing on my porch yesterday afternoon delivering a package addressed to 'Oscar & Felix'.
I tore into it with the only cutting tool I had handy at the time--my car keys--and happily discovered a set of four beer glasses. But no, these weren't just any beer glasses, these were official Imperial Pint glasses, with the bulge for stacking, and the official British Government Seal. There was also a copy of Draft Magazine included, a surprisingly readable publication dedicated to the 'beer lifestyle'. It now resides in a place of honor on the back of my toilet.
And word around the campfire is that there is yet another small package enroute, too. Woot! Of course, Rob dampened my spirits by reminding me that I should've included LV Terry in the Hey gang--Here's my new address email, as we'd likely have a freezer full of Omaha Steaks by now, too. Doh! Oh well, somehow we'll manage, especially since we're not allowed to grill here. I guess the next batch of smores we do will be in the microwave...
Anyhow. Now that I made it to my weekend somewhat intact, and we got the HDTV all hooked up, of course nothing else has been accomplished in the past 48 hours except running the dishwasher. I stayed up late on Tuesday night watching a show on PBS HD about Yak ranchers in Wyoming and watermelon farmers in New Mexico. Seriously. I could not. turn. it. off. Just when I thought western civilization had peaked with the invention of the iPod, they come and unleash High-Definition TV on me.
It's truly the coolest thing I've seen in awhile.
I finally tore myself away from the digital crack pipe long enough last night to make another run to the old house. I got a bunch of very heavy stuff moved--mostly books, and I got pretty much everything else stacked up and ready to go. I think one more trip to get the small stuff, and a return trip to get my office tower/desk thingy for the computer, and I'll be completely out of there. Of course, I'm missing a big Rubbermaid tote full of books that my roommate moved and can't remember where he put it, so that's on my agenda tomorrow afternoon--finding the missing books. Then I get to unpack everything that's currently stacked in our dining room.
As well as everything is going right now, life is not without it's frustrations. I managed to get the new router set up properly and the whole wireless network is secure, so I can sit anywhere around the house using the laptop to surf and nobody can steal my wifi. I also got the old Compaq hooked up wirelessly, so Rob can hit the internet without having to run a blue ethernet cable down the hallway from my bedroom to his. The only problem is moving my old files (mostly digital pics and downloaded music, along with handful of Word documents) from the Compaq to the laptop. I've tried everything, and NOTHING works. For whatever reason, none of the 'easy transfer' options are compatible with Windows Millennium, which the old computer runs on. I can't even transfer files over a wired network--it looks like I'll just have to save everything to disk and move it manually. Settings and bookmarks? Forget it. Millennium and Vista are so far apart, they don't even recognize that they're both bastard children from the same father. (Although Vista clearly got the brains and the looks in the family, while Millennium eats from a dog dish and lives under the stairs).
But the entire network, both computers, keyboards, mice, router, modem, and about 15 miles of cable, are all sitting on my bedroom floor at this moment, taking up valuable real estate. Once I get all of my private files taken off of the old computer, it's going in Rob's room until the day we take it out to the vacant lot next door and give it the Office Space treatment with a couple of Louisville Sluggers.
Recycle? Forget that. That old Compaq is going to Rest in Pieces at the landfill, hopefully slowly decomposing over the next thousand years under a hundred tons of smelly rotting garbage, because I can't think of a more appropriate send-off for all of the headaches it's caused me over the years.
Anyhow, that's the news from here. We're almost 100% moved in, ahead of schedule, and everything at the new house works. Especially the AC. Did I mention that I'm freezing my ass off right now?
I am, but I don't care. I could die from hypothermia tonight and be happy. Because I know that I won't wake up in two hours drenched in sweat and cursing my stupid-ass roommate for being such a cheap bastard. I don't care if I have to live on Ramen noodles and peanut butter for the rest of the summer--we're GONNA keep this house cool!
More later.
Mikey
I tore into it with the only cutting tool I had handy at the time--my car keys--and happily discovered a set of four beer glasses. But no, these weren't just any beer glasses, these were official Imperial Pint glasses, with the bulge for stacking, and the official British Government Seal. There was also a copy of Draft Magazine included, a surprisingly readable publication dedicated to the 'beer lifestyle'. It now resides in a place of honor on the back of my toilet.
And word around the campfire is that there is yet another small package enroute, too. Woot! Of course, Rob dampened my spirits by reminding me that I should've included LV Terry in the Hey gang--Here's my new address email, as we'd likely have a freezer full of Omaha Steaks by now, too. Doh! Oh well, somehow we'll manage, especially since we're not allowed to grill here. I guess the next batch of smores we do will be in the microwave...
Anyhow. Now that I made it to my weekend somewhat intact, and we got the HDTV all hooked up, of course nothing else has been accomplished in the past 48 hours except running the dishwasher. I stayed up late on Tuesday night watching a show on PBS HD about Yak ranchers in Wyoming and watermelon farmers in New Mexico. Seriously. I could not. turn. it. off. Just when I thought western civilization had peaked with the invention of the iPod, they come and unleash High-Definition TV on me.
It's truly the coolest thing I've seen in awhile.
I finally tore myself away from the digital crack pipe long enough last night to make another run to the old house. I got a bunch of very heavy stuff moved--mostly books, and I got pretty much everything else stacked up and ready to go. I think one more trip to get the small stuff, and a return trip to get my office tower/desk thingy for the computer, and I'll be completely out of there. Of course, I'm missing a big Rubbermaid tote full of books that my roommate moved and can't remember where he put it, so that's on my agenda tomorrow afternoon--finding the missing books. Then I get to unpack everything that's currently stacked in our dining room.
As well as everything is going right now, life is not without it's frustrations. I managed to get the new router set up properly and the whole wireless network is secure, so I can sit anywhere around the house using the laptop to surf and nobody can steal my wifi. I also got the old Compaq hooked up wirelessly, so Rob can hit the internet without having to run a blue ethernet cable down the hallway from my bedroom to his. The only problem is moving my old files (mostly digital pics and downloaded music, along with handful of Word documents) from the Compaq to the laptop. I've tried everything, and NOTHING works. For whatever reason, none of the 'easy transfer' options are compatible with Windows Millennium, which the old computer runs on. I can't even transfer files over a wired network--it looks like I'll just have to save everything to disk and move it manually. Settings and bookmarks? Forget it. Millennium and Vista are so far apart, they don't even recognize that they're both bastard children from the same father. (Although Vista clearly got the brains and the looks in the family, while Millennium eats from a dog dish and lives under the stairs).
But the entire network, both computers, keyboards, mice, router, modem, and about 15 miles of cable, are all sitting on my bedroom floor at this moment, taking up valuable real estate. Once I get all of my private files taken off of the old computer, it's going in Rob's room until the day we take it out to the vacant lot next door and give it the Office Space treatment with a couple of Louisville Sluggers.
Recycle? Forget that. That old Compaq is going to Rest in Pieces at the landfill, hopefully slowly decomposing over the next thousand years under a hundred tons of smelly rotting garbage, because I can't think of a more appropriate send-off for all of the headaches it's caused me over the years.
Anyhow, that's the news from here. We're almost 100% moved in, ahead of schedule, and everything at the new house works. Especially the AC. Did I mention that I'm freezing my ass off right now?
I am, but I don't care. I could die from hypothermia tonight and be happy. Because I know that I won't wake up in two hours drenched in sweat and cursing my stupid-ass roommate for being such a cheap bastard. I don't care if I have to live on Ramen noodles and peanut butter for the rest of the summer--we're GONNA keep this house cool!
More later.
Mikey
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
I Can See Clearly Now
After this morning's epic post about the previous week's activities, I finally went to bed (feeling much better, thank you) around 5:00 am. All that hurling, coupled with a half-hour in the hot tub, conspired to sap all the energy from my body and I completely collapsed into an unconscious heap as soon as I hit the Blob.
It seemed like ten minutes passed, and Rob was knocking on my bedroom door telling me the cable guy was already here. But it was 8:01 am--we were the first stop on his route for the day. He spent a few minutes testing outlets and whatnot, and finally jury-rigged a solution that didn't cost us $50 for a service call. The downside is that I now have a tangle of co-axial cable coming out of two outlets in my bedroom, along with a splitter leading to the modem/computer setup. He offered to staple everything down along the baseboard, but I declined, figuring I'd just hide it all with my desk once I finally get it over here.
Once he left, it took about ten minutes before the HD receiver finally cycled through all of the updates and we got cable access. It took another twenty minutes or so of messing around in the spaghetti behind the entertainment center before we figured out how to get sound and pictures at the same time and which inputs the tv/receiver/dvd had to be set on for everything to work properly.
But once we figured it out, it was like the heavens parted and sweet high-definition goodness was poured out upon us, and we drank heavily from the digital cup. We spent an hour in wide-eyed wonder watching SportsCenter in HD, marveling that we could read the numbers on the empty outfield seats whenever a deep fly ball was hit. As a bonus, we discovered that HBO HD is included in the package, so I still get to watch Entourage every week (we opted not to get the HBO/Cinemax channels in order to save some cash), and we even have a Cinemax HD channel too. You know what that means--soft porn in High Def! Woot! I guess we'll be treated to the "Gene Simmons view" of Shannon Tweed's nekkid ass late at night. But the really cool one is the Discovery HD Theatre channel--and a show about underwater volcanoes is coming on in an hour and we'll be found sitting in the living room ooohing and aaaahing like a couple of retards at a fireworks show.
Seriously, I had no idea that HDTV was so cool. Only because I'd never seen it before. But the only thing I can liken it to was the fact that I have a relatively weak eyeglass prescription, and seeing HDTV compared to standard was like putting glasses on for the first time. It's amazing how sharp, clear, and brilliant everything looked. We found ourselves staring at the PBS HD channel for a half hour, watching a show about Mormon handcart pioneers caught in a snowstorm in Nebraska. Not exactly must-see TV, but like I told Rob at the time, I don't really want to watch this, but it's just so cool that I can't look away!
But only having about three hours of sleep last night started to catch up to me, and I needed a nap. So I kept the door to my bedroom open and crashed, while Rob turned off the TV and just put some Pink Floyd on the surround system. Talk about getting mellow in a hurry--Rob fell asleep in the chair in the living room, and I was around the corner passed out in my bed. I slept well, but dreamt about flying pigs and cartoon hammers and whatnot.
I'm awake now, and delaying the inevitable trip back over to the old house to get more stuff. I'm going to wait until after dark so that I can put stuff in the bed of the truck without having it melt. But since Rob is in the living room watching Star Trek, I figured now was a good time to make another update.
Mikey
It seemed like ten minutes passed, and Rob was knocking on my bedroom door telling me the cable guy was already here. But it was 8:01 am--we were the first stop on his route for the day. He spent a few minutes testing outlets and whatnot, and finally jury-rigged a solution that didn't cost us $50 for a service call. The downside is that I now have a tangle of co-axial cable coming out of two outlets in my bedroom, along with a splitter leading to the modem/computer setup. He offered to staple everything down along the baseboard, but I declined, figuring I'd just hide it all with my desk once I finally get it over here.
Once he left, it took about ten minutes before the HD receiver finally cycled through all of the updates and we got cable access. It took another twenty minutes or so of messing around in the spaghetti behind the entertainment center before we figured out how to get sound and pictures at the same time and which inputs the tv/receiver/dvd had to be set on for everything to work properly.
But once we figured it out, it was like the heavens parted and sweet high-definition goodness was poured out upon us, and we drank heavily from the digital cup. We spent an hour in wide-eyed wonder watching SportsCenter in HD, marveling that we could read the numbers on the empty outfield seats whenever a deep fly ball was hit. As a bonus, we discovered that HBO HD is included in the package, so I still get to watch Entourage every week (we opted not to get the HBO/Cinemax channels in order to save some cash), and we even have a Cinemax HD channel too. You know what that means--soft porn in High Def! Woot! I guess we'll be treated to the "Gene Simmons view" of Shannon Tweed's nekkid ass late at night. But the really cool one is the Discovery HD Theatre channel--and a show about underwater volcanoes is coming on in an hour and we'll be found sitting in the living room ooohing and aaaahing like a couple of retards at a fireworks show.
Seriously, I had no idea that HDTV was so cool. Only because I'd never seen it before. But the only thing I can liken it to was the fact that I have a relatively weak eyeglass prescription, and seeing HDTV compared to standard was like putting glasses on for the first time. It's amazing how sharp, clear, and brilliant everything looked. We found ourselves staring at the PBS HD channel for a half hour, watching a show about Mormon handcart pioneers caught in a snowstorm in Nebraska. Not exactly must-see TV, but like I told Rob at the time, I don't really want to watch this, but it's just so cool that I can't look away!
But only having about three hours of sleep last night started to catch up to me, and I needed a nap. So I kept the door to my bedroom open and crashed, while Rob turned off the TV and just put some Pink Floyd on the surround system. Talk about getting mellow in a hurry--Rob fell asleep in the chair in the living room, and I was around the corner passed out in my bed. I slept well, but dreamt about flying pigs and cartoon hammers and whatnot.
I'm awake now, and delaying the inevitable trip back over to the old house to get more stuff. I'm going to wait until after dark so that I can put stuff in the bed of the truck without having it melt. But since Rob is in the living room watching Star Trek, I figured now was a good time to make another update.
Mikey
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