Another Helping of Las Vegas

Maybe I should've titled this post 'No Rest For the Weary' because I'm still living like a tourist--which is actually a good thing. I'm just looking forward to eight-to-ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in my own bed. Maybe sometime next week...

Yesterday, after finishing up that epic post about my week's activities, I showered, shaved, got dressed, and headed back down to the Strip. Again. This time I went to the Paris to meet up with Lisa Lisa and her friend Ava. I found them lurking around near the shops back past the buffet, and after a few minutes of chit-chat, we headed over to Mon Ami Gabi for dinner. The plan was to use Lisa's $100 gift card, and I think we pretty well covered it.

It was a beautiful late-spring Vegas day outside, so we thought it might be too hot to sit out on the patio. And we didn't think we'd get a seat out there anyways, being that it was a Friday night and we just showed up without reservations. But they gave us a nice table near the bar, just inside from the patio, where we could still enjoy the breeze once the sun dipped behind the Bellagio, and we could still easily see the fountain show.

Not wanting a full meal, Lisa and I decided to just share appetizers and have drinks, while Ava ordered a grilled trout dish. We started out with their famous baguettes and butter, a bottle or two of Perrier, and a couple of French martinis. For our food, I really love the onion soup, but like I said, the weather wasn't conducive to having hot soup for dinner. So we did crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, and the sea scallops gratinees.

After two quick martinis, it was decided that we needed to move on to wine, and I spied a bottle of Pouilly Fuisse on the by-the-glass cart, so that decision was an easy one. Lisa had something red, but I wasn't paying close enough attention when the waiter poured it.

The meal of course, was excellent, as was the company, and once the sun sank below the shadow of the Bellagio, we enjoyed a perfect evening. We lingered over coffee, espresso martinis, and creme brulee, enjoying the scenery and the conversation.

With all of our martinis and wine, we did some real damage to that gift card. You could say that we went above and beyond, as our tab at the end of the meal came to $235 before tip. But it was worth it--Mon Ami Gabi is still a favorite.

Once dinner was over, we stopped to use the restroom there by the sports book, and since there was a video poker bar there, we sat down. Ava went off to shop and wander some more, while Lisa Lisa put a twenty in a machine and we ordered a round of cocktails. We sat and played two-handed video poker for quite awhile, and she actually was doing quite well, getting four four-of-a-kinds. But the cards turned cold and she cashed out with a much smaller profit about an hour later.

Ava eventually came back, and she suggested that we take a ride to the top of the Eiffel tower. I had never done that before, so I was all for it. So we headed over to the gift shop for tickets (ten bucks each), stood in line for a few minutes, and then got on the elevator for that long ride to the top of the tower.

I was the last one on the elevator, so I was right there in the front. And just then I realized that this was the first time I'd ever ridden a glass elevator where the doors were on the outside. I'm normally not too afraid of heights, but standing right next to the edge on the way up, I felt pretty tense. Of course, so did everyone else in the elevator. Ava had to close her eyes and hold on to the rail for the entire ride.

Once we got to the top, the view, as you can imagine, was awesome. And it was a beautiful clear night with just a slight breeze. And the fountains at Bellagio were going off, too, so it was just an excellent experience. Except for Ava--she freaked out a little, and couldn't let go of the inside rail, and refused to come anywhere near the edge. I don't think she lasted five minutes up there before catching the next elevator back down to the casino. Poor girl--that vertigo just had to ruin it. It's tough to enjoy the view like that...

But Lisa and I stayed up there, shuffling around the top, taking in the views from all sides. And I even managed to get a decent picture with my crappy little beaner digital camera:


I also had what I thought was a nice picture of the Bellagio, and it looked great on the two-inch monitor, but blown up to normal size, it was all blurry.

After about a half-hour at the top, Lisa and I decided to go back down and fetch Ava. They were both still on East Coast time, so in addition to Ava feeling a little woozy, they were both pretty tired. And all the cocktails didn't help, either. So we said goodnight, with plans to meet up tonight (dinner at the Palms). They headed back to Treasure Island, while I made my way over to the Tropicana.

Of course, as soon as I walked in, I couldn't help but giggle a little, as I had to run the hooker gauntlet, just like when CoolPacific was here, to get to the Celebration Lounge. Why was I going there? Because my favorite up-and-coming band, Savannah Jack, is playing there on a three-week engagement.

They were putting on a great show, and the crowd was a lot of fun--much bigger and more into it than the audience at the Sahara. I was having so much fun laughing at the lead singer's impromptu lyric changes that I stayed all the way to the end, which was sometime near 2:00 am. But I was beat by then, and made my way home and collapsed into bed, not waking up until around, oh, 7:30 this morning when the maintenance guys were running the leaf blower right outside my bedroom window.

But I've got no place I have to be for several hours, so I'm just gonna chill here at the house all afternoon. And I've got another night of Vegas-style buffoonery ahead of me.

I'm hoping the landscaping crew takes the day off tomorrow.

Mikey

A Roller Coaster Week

Yes, yes, I'm still alive--you can call off the search parties. There is no bloated corpse hanging in my closet, and I'm not face down in the gutter somewhere off of east Fremont...

Sorry for the lack of updates and the non-responses to all of the emails, but I've been away from the computer for a couple of days.

Back on Tuesday, I met Dave P for lunch at Grimaldi's, which was excellent, but our meal was punctuated by a couple of phone calls from the former Future Mrs and that bit of drama, so it wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it could've been. But Dave P gave the food a thumbs up, saying it was almost as good as he can get back east... And as a bonus, he brought me a nice birthday gift--a bottle of Appleton's rum. Gotta love that!

The rest of the day basically sucked-- but you've already heard about that...

My plan on Tuesday night was to take my semi-depressed, unshaven, unkempt, and slightly besotted ass out to the Silverton and participate once again in my weekly poker ritual. But earlier in the evening, I'd gotten an email from one of my 'lurkers' who said she was in town and wanted to buy me a drink, and sent along her cell number. I called it, no answer, left a message, and then just chilled out in front of the TV awhile longer. Not hearing back, I didn't bother to shave or put on decent clothes before heading out to the casino. I called again an hour later, leaving a message that I was going to play poker and to just give me a call some other time.

I stopped at the gas station on the corner to hit the ATM, and just as I took out the cash, my phone was buzzing. It was my lurker friend, "Ali", asking where I was.

So, I changed plans, and instead of going to the Silverton, I turned around, went back home, put on some decent clothes, and headed down to New York New York to meet Ali for cocktails. I found her about twenty minutes later, a curly-headed hippie chick sitting alone at the lobby bar playing video poker and drinking Captain and diet Coke.

We had a round or two of cocktails and get-to-know ya banter before she asked me to teach her to play Pai Gow. So off to the pit we went. Right now, NYNY is under serious construction. The Big Apple Bar in front--gone. Half the main pit--gone. All the trees that give it the 'Central Park' vibe--will be gone within the next couple of weeks. So basically, the casino was dead, and we had the table to ourselves for a bit. But then another drunken couple sat down with us, and the four of us laughed our asses off for almost two hours.

We drank several rounds, keeping the cocktail waitress busy, and at some point I gave the lady sitting on the other side of me the Ketel One test when she ordered it. Nope, she couldn't spell it either, which amused her husband to no end.

Anyhow, once the other couple called it a night, we figured the table was going to lose it's fun vibe, so we colored up and called it quits too. And believe it or not, I was actually up $140. Not too bad!

Ali wanted to go see Rob at his new joint, but we were both pretty hammered, so we left the truck in the valet and cabbed it down to Rob's casino. We wandered a bit before we found him on an 8-deck blackjack game, but his table was full, so we couldn't join him. We were content to watch, and it took him almost ten minutes before he looked up and noticed us standing there. I asked him when his break was, but he said he had another 45 minutes on the table.

So we bailed.

Wandering aimlessly along the Strip, we decided to go to the Imperial Palace and play some craps. Going back in that place after March Madness was almost like returning to the scene of the crime, and I had to grin a little bit, thinking about glow sticks, room service club sandies, and epic beat downs at the poker table...

But we found a couple of spots at the dice table and played for about a half hour, both of us making a small profit before giving up. The rank smell in that place was getting to us, so we wanted to leave.

Since I was flush with house money, I offered to buy breakfast. She accepted, and it was off to the Peppermill. She'd never been there before, and was duly impressed. No chicken fried steak this time--I went with French toast, and she had pancakes. Of course we couldn't eat it all, and once we paid the tab, we went back to the Fireside lounge to chill out and enjoy the old school vibe. Oh, and to watch the hookers, too. There were a bunch of 'em in there, gathering at the end of a long night to count their take, tell stories, and unwind with a cocktail. Two of them were in the lounge-booth across from us, sipping out of a huge shared Scorpion cocktail with two long straws, kinda like Lady and the Tramp. Well, more like The Tramp and the Tramp, but you know what I'm talking about... Only in Vegas!

Drink service was kind of slow, so we left after just one round. We managed to get a cab back to NYNY, and instead of heading home, I stayed there at the hotel with Ali for a little bit of What happens in Vegas... And y'all thought I was spending the evening drinking myself into a blind stupor and contemplating flinging myself from the top of the Stratosphere. Not hardly.

Unfortunately, the sun was almost up by the time we got back, and we had to check out of the room by 11:00, not leaving us much time for dilly-dally. As you can imagine, we didn't get much sleep anyways, and coupled with my sleepless Monday night, I was pretty much a zombie. Without the need to feed on brains, of course.

Even though we'd eaten at the Peppermill around 3:00 am, by eleven, we were starving. And check-in at Bally's (her destination for the balance of her visit) wasn't until 3:00 pm. So we fetched the truck from the valet, and headed out to a place I've been wanting to try forever, Jamm's.

It's way the hell out on W. Charleston and Rainbow, so it was a bit of a drive from the South Strip. But we finally got there, and were seated immediately. It's kind of a small place, and we got there just in time--a few minutes later, the line was out the door.

I ordered chicken fried steak, home fries, eggs, and their famous 'pot of bread', which is fresh from the oven and oh-my-god good. Ali got some sort of grilled ham and cheese sandwich, which she raved about, saying it was the best sandwich she ever had. She made me take a bite, just so I'd stop rolling my eyes at her blatherings. Yep--she wasn't lyin'--it was pretty frickin' good! My breakfast was much better than expected, the coffee was outstanding, and my 'large' orange juice was an entire damn carafe. Oh, and the thing that put it over the top, as far as we were concerned, was the fact that they serve Coke. Not that vile Pepsi shiat.

Notice the Coke glass!

The service was excellent, too, and the prices were more than a bargain. I will definitely go back--even though it's way the hell out by Red Rock, hell and gone from my neck of the woods.

Since Visit Red Rock at Some Point was on Ali's list of Things To Do In Vegas (somewhere behind Hook Up With Mikey, obviously...), and we were already in the neighborhood, that was our next destination.

Our first stop was the dice table, where we played for about 20 minutes or so, both making a little bit of money (well, I made $20, but she was up like $60). After that, we went over to the Pai Gow tables and played for another hour or so. No big wins, but we were both up a few bucks, again. Basically, it was a profitable visit to Red Rock.

Since I hadn't shaved in almost three days, and was still wearing the same clothes as I had on the day before, I was really needing a shower and a fresh set of threads. And since we were already right there next to the 215, it was time to road trip back across town to the Man-Cave.

Still tired from our all-night buffoonery, Ali chilled out and dozed in the magic sleepy-time chair in the living room while I packed a bag, showered, and made myself pretty. Then it was back to the Strip to check in to Bally's.

The check-in line was ridiculously long, but since she was an 'invited guest' she jumped over to the Platinum window, avoiding the unwashed masses in the red velvet maze. It was 3:30ish by then, so of course we could check in. But the room wasn't ready--we were told to come back in an hour for the keys. We were so beat by then--we just wanted a nap--so it was a miserable thing to hear. We ditched the bags with the bell desk, and moped our way over to the bar next to the poker room.

Once we found out that drinks were comped without having to play full credits in the VP machines, I put a five-spot in the machine and ordered a Bombay Sapphire martini. Ali went with Tanqueray and tonic, like a heathen.

Clearly, we were all about the gin at that point...

I was pissed off a Harrah's for making us wait for the room--an obvious ploy to get us into the casino. And it worked--less than 20 minutes later I was down $200 at the craps table. F*cking Evil Empire.

Eventually, we got room keys, and even though it was a non-renovated room in the South Tower, it was a lot nicer than I expected. The fact that they had a bottle opener mounted on the wall in the shiatter amused me for hours... But we were beat. We had the bags brought up, set the alarm for 6:30, closed the curtains, turned off the light, and attempted to nap for a couple of hours.

Much too soon that alarm was ringing. My plans for the evening were to have dinner with Habana Man (Chris) at Firefly on Paradise, and I invited Ali to join us. She declined, saying that she while liked me and all, she still needed her 'alone time' (I'm sure it was because what she really wanted to do was stay in bed for another hour and snooze).

No problemo--I could do Guy's Night Out.

So I left her there at the hotel, and I headed over to the Mirage to pick up Chris. A few minutes later, we were circling the lot at Firefly, looking for a place to park. We didn't have reservations, thinking we wouldn't need them, but the restaurant was packed. We were able to score a table on the patio though, so it was no problem.

The first order of business--drinks! I couldn't go to a Tapas joint and not drink Sangria, so I ordered a tall glass of the red. Oh hell yeah was it ever good... Chris started with the first of many Malibu/Pineapples.

Our waiter and server came over to give us the run down about the 'little plates' concept, and to make recommendations. The also dropped off a plate of stuff to nosh on while we waited--bread slices, almond butter, olives, and roasted red pepper strips. It helped get us in the mood to eat.

We started out with the bacon wrapped dates (absolutely fantastico), the Terra y Mare skewers, (that's the surf and turf with grilled filet, shrimp, and chorizo--Chris's absolute favorite thing on the entire menu), filet mignon sliders, and some spicy shrimp. And we kept 'em coming--more dates, more surf and turf, croquettas, chicken salad, empanadas, baked brie, lamb chops, etc, etc, etc... Every few minutes, a couple more plates hit the table, and another round of Sangria landed in front of me. We kept trying new things, and it didn't disappoint.

We only made one mistake, which was that we didn't order any of the cold tapas first. They were great, but they didn't hold up to the hot ones, so next time we'll go with the cold ones first. Also, as good as the baked Brie with roasted red peppers and chorizo sounded, it really wasn't very good at all. Well, it might've been, but neither one of us liked the taste of it, so not only did they take it away immediately, but they knocked it off our bill, too.

Anyhow, we ate until we were absolutely stuffed, and loved every minute of it. The food was excellent--their sauces just make the good ingredients so much better--the service was also very good (although all of the waiters looked like Ramon the pool boy who's going to hit on your girlfriend when you're not looking...), and the experience was well worth the visit. I think the best thing about it was the variety--we had so many different taste sensations going on, that the food never got boring at all. Everything was interesting, and besides that, tasted wonderful, except for our miss with the Brie.

All of them little plates added up, and the bill came to about $140 for the two of us. Of course, a big chunk of that was booze--$6 a glass for Sangria, and I drank a bunch. Chris did his damage with the rum, and we ate more plates than normal people do. I think a couple on a date could get out of there for less than a hundred, easily. But we wanted to get the most out of our dining experience, and we did!

Once the bill was paid, we waddled out of there, fat and happy, back to the truck. The plan for the balance of the evening was to head back over to the Mirage and chill out in the lounge between the sports book and the poker room, smoking Cuban cigars and putting a dent in their liquor supply.

We found a comfy table over in the corner, ordered some vodka-based drinks, and lit up a couple of Monte Cristo #2's. And at that moment, those two bald guys in Hawaiian shirts were Masters of All Creation, toasting the fact that we were fortunate enough to be in Vegas, living the good life, if only temporarily. We smoked, drank, told stories, raved about dinner, played a little spot-the-hooker, and basically carried on like a couple of mellow dudes for a couple of hours, enjoying the Vegas vibe.

At some point, Dancing Queen came on the overhead music system, so I just had to send a text to Angy.

Hey, I'm having cocktails at the Mirage and Dancing Queen is playing in the background. Wish you were here!

Heh.

She wrote back just a minute later. I wish I was there, too...

Ali showed up to join us at some point, and Dave P showed up just a few minutes after her. So we suddenly had an impromptu gathering on our hands. We kept the cocktail waitress just a little too busy, and I'm certain that we probably disturbed a few of the other patrons in the lounge who were looking for a nice quiet place to relax.

The Sangria, vodka-Cokes, and rum drinks were starting to take their toll after several hours, and Chris and I found it a bit difficult to walk to the men's room once it was time to break the seal. At some point I actually locked myself in a bathroom stall and couldn't get back out again for several minutes. There was no way I was going over the top (have seen too many WWI movies--going over the top never works), and I certainly wasn't going to crawl under, so when going through the door started to sound like a good idea, well, I figured it was time to switch to bottled water.

I managed to eventually get the lock unstuck without doing any structural damage to the men's room, and a few minutes later, our impromptu cocktail party started to break up. We said goodnight to everyone and headed to the valet. Ali wisely insisted on driving my truck back to Bally's, while I served as ballast in the passenger's seat.

Of course, she's used to driving little tiny cars around, so driving my 'huge' truck was a new experience for the female Stevie Wonder, who somehow managed to drive right into the concrete island at the Bally's valet drop off. And I was supposed to be the drunk one... Looks like I'll be getting an alignment next week.

We giggled our way inside and found our way back to the room, eventually managing to get some sleep.

Thursday started off fairly mellow. The effects of the previous night were still lingering, but Advil and bottled water was kind of a lame breakfast. Once we got showered and dressed, we decided to go back to New York New York, since we had such good luck there, and her rental car was still parked with their valet. We also wanted to have breakfast in America, which seemed like the logical thing to do.

She had the Mississippi BBQ sandwich, which she really enjoyed, and instead of eggs and toast, I opted for some sort of huge cheeseburger, loaded with all the fixin's. It really hit the spot, and Ali insisted on paying for breakfast this time around, so it tasted even better.

Once the breakfast tab was paid, we headed back over to the scene of our previous victory to lay waste to the Pai Gow tables once again. And it didn't disappoint--we both started out pretty strong. And then the most random thing happened--suddenly, out of nowhere, Habana Man Chris appeared. He had gone to the Burger Bar at Mandalay Bay for lunch, and was walking back to the Mirage, and stopped in to New York New York because he had to pee. And when he came out of the bathroom he was walking by the pit and saw us sitting there! So he joined us, and the afternoon was even more fun with the three of us there at the table, running smack, having a drink or two, and actually winning some money.

Unfortunately, I had to cut it short. I had to work last night, so I had to get home, do a load of laundry, check the mail, and get ready for work. But when we colored up, I realized that I had quadrupled my buy-in! Woot--I made back everything I'd lost at Bally's and then some!

Since Ali had a rental car, and Chris also had no plans for the evening, they exchanged numbers and said that they'd come out and see me at work, and maybe play at my tables for a bit. So we said our goodbyes and I headed for home, exhausted, and not even looking forward to going back to work again.

I thought for sure I'd be dealing Pai Gow again, just like I do every Thursday night, but when I got to work, I learned that my first hour was cosmic punishment--I was assigned to deal Let It Ride. First time in two months... Oh well, it wasn't too bad. I had some fun people who weren't playing with their rent money, so it was somewhat enjoyable.

After that, I spent a couple of hours on the six-deck shoe games. Ali sent me a text message saying that Chris bailed out, but that she'd be out around 11. I also found out that I'd be going to the dice table at 11 o'clock, so I sent her a message to come find me in the dice pit once she got to the casino.

I had a nice, fun table with a good crew and none of our regular douchebag players--it was all tourists--so nobody was stroking us. Ali showed up during my turn on the stick, so I was using all of my good material (Eight, eight--everybody LOVES to get ate!), which was also making the other dealers laugh a bit too. Luckily the 'dice boss' has Thursday nights off, so my act was uncensored...

Unfortunately, one of the other tables closed and they had no place to put the other dealers, so we were on a five-man crew. That meant I'd be taking a whole lot more breaks than normal, so I told 'em to get me on the Early Out list. As soon as I said that, I they told me to go home on the next push.

While I went and signed out and changed, Ali colored up and met me on the other side of the pit. We left her car there in the garage, and headed over to Green Valley Ranch to give it a try.

It was fairly mellow, being a weeknight, and we sat down at an empty Pai Gow table. My drinking for the week was done, so I just went with bottled water. I believe Ali did the same. Our first dealer was pretty good to us, and except for starting out smacking us down with a full-house, we made a little money. The next dealer, however, just crushed us, and we got the ever-livin' shiat kicked out of us. Twice I had a flush with pairs on top, and neither hand won. I got two full-houses that didn't win, and got beat with three pairs a couple of times, too.

It was a bloodbath, and after about an hour and a half, I had given back almost all of my NYNY winnings. Ugh. We decided that enough was enough, and figured the only way to get some of our money back was if we could get a comp for breakfast in the coffee shop. They were more than willing to do that, so around 2:00 am, we were enjoying a free meal. Well, a free meal that probably cost us close to $300...

I had a ham steak combo meal, and Ali ordered a huge platter of chicken nachos. There was no way we were gonna finish all that grub, but we gave it the ol' college effort. And Ali said that even though we got crushed at the tables, she really liked the casino at Green Valley, and wouldn't hesitate to come back. I agreed--it's my favorite casino in all of Vegas, except for maybe Treasure Island. But since it's less than a mile from my front door, well, it gets the edge when it really comes down to it.

I drove Ali back to her car, and I was exhausted--looking forward to sleeping in my own bed once again. But she really twisted my arm, and talked me into driving back down to Bally's to stay with her on her last night in town. Unable to resist, I agreed. So we caravaned back down to the Strip...

But the 9:00 am wake-up call still came much too early. We futzed around the room for a bit, well, I dozed while she got showered and dressed--she had some conference to attend over at Bellagio, while all I had to do was go to the bank and run a couple of Friday-morning errands. We made our way back downstairs and said our goodbyes--She's heading back home this afternoon. We had a really good, and completely unexpected visit, and I'm glad that she called me on Tuesday--I had a lot of fun! And it really helped to take my mind off of things, too.

So anyhow, I'm finally back at the house for a bit. My errands have been run, I got some laundry done, and I'm looking forward to a nice nap this afternoon. And I think I have to be down at Paris for dinner at 5:00. Lisa Lisa the One I Adore is here, and I've got two more days of buffoonery on tap!

Sucks to be me, huh?

Mikey

Thanks Everybody

Hey gang!

Sorry for the lack of posts this week--I know everyone was concerned for my well-being and I appreciate it. So thank you all for thinkin' 'bout me, I'm alive and doing fine... Things definitely aren't as bad as they sounded, and while she's no longer the Future Mrs, Kimmy and I remain friends and once we get past this next week or so of awkwardness, all will be well, and life will go on like before.

Anyhow, I just got home from what turned into a minor three-day bender, and I'm doing laundry, takin' care of biz around the house, and getting some rest before I head out again this afternoon. I've got the next two nights off, away from the casino, and I the plan for tonight is to have dinner with a couple of ladies at Mon Ami Gabi, followed by some sort of Vegas-style buffoonery.

I'm also working on a pretty lengthy post regarding my whereabouts for the past three days, and I think you all will enjoy it. That should be up in a few hours. But right now, I'm gonna make a samminch, put in another load of laundry, and relax for a few hours. Tonight is shaping up to be a long one.

Oh, and as a bit of Karmic payback, last night when I went back to work, I had to spend my first hour dealing--you guessed it--Let It Ride. The gambling gods seem to have a sense of humor...

Mikey

Falcon Rob Gets It Right

My roommie knocked one out of the park this morning, and I couldn't agree with him more. Seriously, if you're a regular Let It Ride player, not only do I question your intelligence, but I also question your ancestry. Honestly, if gambling was an event in the Special Olympics, Let It Ride would be the f*cking decathlon.

If somebody said to you--Hey, let's play Five Card Stud, but the only caveat is that if you don't get at least a pair of tens every hand, I'm going to take six bucks from you--would you take him up on his offer? Sadly, dozens of morons in this town do so every day. And that's what they are--morons.

I'm amazed to see that table full almost every single night, and the fact that it's one of the last carnival games to get shut down at the end of the shift just does not compute. I don't understand why people play it. They say it's fun, but nobody is ever having fun--they all sit there with that same exasperated look on their faces, complaining about the cards all night. My only guess is that they're just too dumb to play blackjack, craps, or Pai gow, but just don't want to admit it.

In addition to being dumb, Let It Ride players are generally stiffs, too, so they get a double dose of scorn heaped upon their mushy heads.

Luckily, I only get stuck on that game about one hour a month, so I'm in no danger of being sucked in by the Retard Vortex.

Mikey

Take The "L"

Today has been the longest and worst day of my entire Vegas experience. After several weeks of personal triumph in many areas of my life, I took a soul-crushing setback last night that damn near killed me.

Long story short, around 11:00 o'clock last night, the Future Mrs dropped a bomb on me that I couldn't recover from. It got me so bad, and I felt so sick, that I left work immediately. After a long sleepless night of emails, text messages, phone calls, missed connections, more phone calls, weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and a long difficult conversation this afternoon, the bottom line is that her and I will never be a 'we'.

We're gonna try and remain friends, at least that's what we told each other, and I'd hate to not have her in my life at all, but these next couple of weeks will be especially difficult. And on the positive side, at least this happened before there was huge emotional attachment, so I avoided getting my heart broken. Too badly.

The worst thing about this whole situation is that this is the first time in a very long time that I've felt this strongly about anyone. At least when I was dating Sticky, I knew from the get-go that it was destined to be a train wreck. With Kimmy (that's her name by the way--no need to be anonymous anymore), I always felt like she was something special and worth putting in the effort for. She tells me that she's not worth it, but I never believed it for a second. She is a quality woman, and anybody would be lucky to have her, baggage or no.

But as much as I'd like to move on, I've still got those five stages of grief to deal with, and tonight my plan is to get blind stinking drunk and pass out on my floor. I'm already well beyond Denial and Anger, I skipped eight over Bargaining, and I'm neck deep in Depression right now. Acceptance is still a few weeks away.



Mikey

Cravings

Good lord Sunday was a long night at the casino. It started out ok, but sometime around 11:00, it just died, and I went almost three straight hours without dealing a single card. Yep, I just sat there on my dead games watching TV in the bar, waiting for players to show up.

The worst thing about having a dead game, to me, is that the cocktail waitress--who you may recall, I'm quite fond of--doesn't stop by if there are no players at the table. And if I'm out at the end of the pit, and there are no players at the tables next to me, either, she doesn't have a reason to walk all the way down there to the end, much less wander by. So then it really sucks to be on a dead game.

It's bad enough that I'm not making any money, but then if my favorite lady isn't coming around either, it's a double whammy of suckitude. Now, if it's kinda slow for her, too, she'll wander down and chat for a minute or two before she goes and tries to hustle up some drink orders, but if she's got drinks to deliver, or sees new players sit down at other tables, then she's all about the mission at hand and I sit there alone with my thoughts the whole time.

However, I get bored sitting there late at night, and do whatever I can to keep myself entertained. And since it's the worst kept secret in the casino that I've got a huge crush on the waitress in my section, some of my friends do what they can to help a brotha out. Some of the floor people are pretty cool, and I've enlisted their help. When I've gone too long without my favorite gal coming by, I have pit boss grab a couple of empty bottles and dirty glasses off of the live games in our section and bring them over to my table.

So the next time the Future Mrs makes her rounds, she sees the empties at my table and has to come down and get them. Mission accomplished! Heh. I managed to pull that trick successfully three times the other night, which made the otherwise boring evening so much more enjoyable... Of course, she knows what I'm up to, and humors me.

The other bad thing about sitting there doing nothing but watching TV and acting like a pet in need of adoption whenever players walk by, is that I see the same commercials over and over again all night long. Lately, it's been the Jack in the Box ad for their new BBQ Sirloin Burger that has gotten the most airplay, and it's done the trick--I was craving a hamburger when I finally got out of the casino last night.

My plan was to come home, change clothes, empty my beyond-full change bucket, head down to the grocery store and hit the Coinstar machine, and then use that voucher to buy a bunch of hamburger fixin's and any other random groceries that caught my fancy, and I'd make a big damn burger for lunch today.

But when I got home, Falcon Rob was celebrating the end of a three-day weekend by working his way through of a case of Corona, and asked if I'd like to join him. So all my plans suddenly went out the window as we stayed up drinking beer and watching a week's worth of Jeopardy episodes. Of course, we still couldn't escape the Jack in the Box commercials, so eventually I suggested that we go get some burgers.

His heroic two-word response? Let's Roll!

So around 4:00 am this morning, we were sitting in the drive-thru at the Jack in the Box over on Horizon Ridge and Stephanie, right next to a huge neon sign that said "24 Hour Drive Thru", but yet the voice on the other side of the intercom insisted that they were closed. I started to pull away, but Rob, having consumed waaaay more beer that I had, thought it would be a good idea to go back and argue about the fact that they were closed but the sign said they were always open.

I told him that if he was going to be standing in the drive thru in the middle of the night, waving his arms around and arguing with a speaker box, he's likely to end up on the next episode of COPS, so we moved on. I was kind of bummed, because I was *really* craving a burger. We had no idea where to go, and we drove around for a bit, finally realizing that Vegas may be a 24-hour city, but Henderson sure ain't. Heading back west, towards civilization, I suddenly remembered that there was another Jack in the Box over on Eastern and Horizon Ridge, so we trekked over there.

They too had a prominent neon sign touting the perpetual openness of their drive-thru facilities, but we were skeptical at first. But as soon as we pulled up, a disembodied voice with a slightly foreign accent asked if she could take our order. By then, hunger had pushed common sense out the window, and we had one of those orders that only makes sense to drunks and long-suffering fast food employees. You know, where the pictures on the menu board look so good that you end up ordering more stuff than you can possibly eat... Yep, that was us, ordering twenty bucks worth of fast food at four in the morning.

A few minutes later, the gal at the window shoved our Hefty bag full of grub out the little square opening, and I handed it off to Rob. He held it up and said It feels heavy enough for me to believe that everything's in there, so we gave her the benefit of the doubt and just drove home. We sat up for another hour or so munchin' on our burgers (not bad, by the way, but now I'm no longer craving a hamburger, so my ziploc freezer bag full of change is still sitting on the counter where I left it), watching TV, and telling stories from work.

I waved the white flag of surrender sometime later, throwing out most of my fries and unable to even finish my drink. By then the sun was coming up, so I headed off to bed, luckily falling asleep before it got to be too bright out. I woke up around 11:30 in my sleeping bag, with a funky taste in my mouth, wondering what the hell happened to the sheets on my bed. Oh yeah, they're still in the dryer...

I stumbled out to the living room, and seeing the empty Corona bottles on the end table, the sad realization struck me that the Future Mrs wasn't around and certainly wasn't gonna come by and pick them up this time.

That's ok. Tonight is the slowest night of my workweek, so I'll get a little taste of something I really crave--a few hours worth of flirting followed by two days of freedom.

Mikey

Easy Like Sunday Mornin'

After my three-shots-of-happy martini late last night early this morning, I went to bed and slept like a baby. And I gotta say, it sure tasted a lot better than sleeping pills and tap water. But I woke up around 11:00 or so, and not quite motivated enough to tackle the rest of the desk-cleaning project, I decided to make myself a pot of coffee and sit down at the computer.

Instead of my regular hazelnut coffee, I treated myself to a Bailey's and coffee (plain old Folger's--most boozes don't go well with Don Francisco's. Years of experimentation has taught me this). Not that I planned on it, but the bottle of Bailey's was just sitting there next to the coffee maker with those come-hither eyes, so I decided to pretend I was having brunch, minus the food and the champagne. And I wanted to use my new Spam mug, too.

Anyhow--it's been a nice relaxing day so far, sitting at the 'kitchen table', surfin' the net, enjoying the slight breeze coming through the screen door. It's a beautiful day here in Vegas land, and the Wind Gods finally decided to give us a break while they unleashed their wrath on Arkansas, instead.

Oh, and I wanted to mention--that picture of the messy desk from yesterday's post is *not* from my room. First of all, I use a laptop, not a desktop. Second of all, I can't remember the last time I drank Coke from a can, so those aren't mine. And third of all, Rob will attest that I never use headphones, either. Heh. The picture is just one of the hundreds of trophies I have on file that I've collected whenever I've gone on a Google Image Search safari, that I try to use at appropriate times. I'll finish cleaning my desk either this afternoon or tomorrow, and post a real picture of it, maybe on Tuesday.

I'm also working on a nice casino-centric bile-filled rant that I've already titled 'The Dirty Baker's Dozen', where I describe the 13 biggest jerkoffs that I have to deal to every night. But I think that is more of a 'weekend' post, also, unless I just get a shiatload of free time on my hands tomorrow.

Also, I forgot to mention the latest reason why it's good to be Hurricane Mikey. All this talk of Bacon Salt as of late seems to be paying dividends. The guys that own the company keep their feelers out on the internet and seem to appreciate the free pub I've given them this week, so they sent me an email thanking me for the write-up and asking for my shipping address. Apparently, they want to send me some goodies! I immediately wrote them back, and they told me that a shipment will be going out tomorrow morning. Woo Hoo!

And by the way, I've tried the Bacon Salt twice now--I managed to find one lone bag of microwave popcorn in the back of the cupboard, so I tried that first. I think I overdid it though--there is already salt in the popcorn, and I put too much of the bacon salt in, too. It's easy to do, it smells soooo good. So next time, I'll get unsalted popcorn and go a little easier on the seasoning. But I also made a breakfast burrito yesterday out of a Jimmy Dean ham skillet pack, and with just a touch of the bacon salt, it really made it so much better.

So fairly soon, I may be up to my arse in Bacon Salt. But, just like ranch dressing, I'm finding that it goes pretty well on just about everything.

Also, there will probably be some good food-bloggin' coming up this next week. Checking the calendar, Dave P, Habanaman, and Lisa Lisa The One I Adore are all coming to visit and have graciously invited me to join them for a few meals.

Dave P and I are going to Grimaldi's for lunch on Wednesday. You already know my thoughts about that place, but Dave is a Grimaldi's virgin, so I'll try to be gentle. But he's from Connecticut, and I may have to steer him away from the white pizza. Although, I don't think clams are on the topping menu, anyways.

Habanaman and I are going to knock Firefly off of the must-try list on Wednesday night, followed by an evening of cigars and cocktails. I've heard nothing but good things about that place (the dorks from Chowhound excepted), and I've been wanting to go there forever. So Wednesday should be a pretty good day--good food and good company.

I'm taking a couple of my must-use floater days away from the casino on Friday and Saturday when Lisa Lisa comes to town, and on Saturday night, we're heading over to N9NE steakhouse at the Palms. Ain't never been there, they tell me it's nice.

So between the visits, the good food, and all the other stuff going on, I should have some pretty good content over the course of the next week to keep everyone entertained. Because I'm a giver. I'm here to serve YOU, my faithful readers.

Later,

Mikey

Winding Down After Work

It was a long and tiring night in the casino, but it went dead around 12:30 or so this morning. I was back on my 'home' string of tables, my favorite lady was bringing the drinks around, and I was dropping decent tokes, so it was just about as good as it gets for a Saturday night at the office.

But once it went dead, it was about as quiet as a graveyard on a foggy night. Sometime after midnight, the Future Mrs came by to say goodbye and that she was bailing out a half-hour early, and I said I was probably just an hour behind her if I could make it that long. Of course, they started closing games down, but none of the dealers wanted do go home, so we started doing that whole twenty-on/twenty-off thing, which sucks like crap on a stick.

So at 1:20, a few of my wiser compatriots and I pulled the ripcord and headed for the door. It just wasn't worth sticking around for. My free time is more valuable than that. Besides that, during my last two hours, I barely dealt a card and was yawning like every twenty seconds or so--and the caffeine didn't help at all.

Once I got home, I figured I needed a cocktail. I'm growing a little tired of the Girl Scout Cookie Martini, so I thought I'd change it up and make a Duck Fart. What is a Duck Fart martini, you ask? Well, here's a picture of it:


It's very simple--all you do is toss one shot each of Bailey's, Kahlua, and Crown Royal into a martini shaker with ice. Shake shake shake, and then strain into a chilled martini glass. It is quite tasty, and since it's three shots of straight booze, you really get a lot of bang for the buck. One will give you a sweet buzz. Two will knock you on your ass. Three will likely cause you to do nasty things with a stranger. Since I'm home alone, I think I'm gonna stop after just one. Although, doing nasty things with a stranger always sounds like a good Saturday night activity...

Anyhow, I'm glad that my workday is over--it would've been a little more fun if I hadn't been such a soul crusher for the last half of my shift. I swear, I just kicked the shiat out of everyone. Oh, I still gave away a couple of big hands, but I eventually took back everything I paid out. Nobody won with me last night.

Oh well. That's the way it goes in the casino. Sometimes the dragon wins. And then he celebrates by drinking girlie martinis alone in the dark...

Mikey

Messy Desk Jackpot!

Preparing to move out of this place in a couple of months, I've got a lengthy to-do list. When I first moved in here, I had about two weeks to prepare. Since I've got two months to prepare, it's going to be much easier, although it'd be helpful if I actually knew where I was going to be living on July 1st.

I can tell you this much, it'll be in either Green Valley, Silverado Ranch, Henderson, or Southern Highlands. I love love love the Silverado Ranch area, but it's still in Las Vegas proper. Green Valley and Henderson let me pay a whole lot less for insurance, and it's a little quieter, too, so I'm kind of leaning on staying in the neighborhood (although Silverado Ranch is just a couple miles down the road).

Anyhow, I started going full-on Enron on a pile of old mail that has never gotten thrown away--old offers and coupons, old statements from various accounts, all the crap the IRS and Dept. of Education has sent me over the years, etc. Yep, my shredder got a workout like it hasn't seen in months, and I even managed to jam it a time or two. Nothing a screwdriver (with a beer chaser!) couldn't fix.

Once the shredding was done, it was time to tackle my desk. It's amazing how much crap it holds since it's really not that big. So in the process of filling a garbage bag, I found all sorts of doo-dads and detritus that I hadn't seen in ages. Some of it, I've been actively looking for, some of it I'd forgotten about. But so far, I've found:

-- my passport
-- my spare truck key and the flashlight keyring
-- my missing torch lighter
-- my missing letter opener
-- the earbuds to my iPod
-- a set of spare buttons
-- a butane cartridge
-- two cigar cutters
-- the instruction manual, still sealed, for my two-year old cell phone
-- a tin of cinnamon Altoids (the medicine of choice for my infected throat, before I went to see the doctor).
-- a couple of CD's that I've been looking for for upwards of three months or so

Unfortunately, my 'cleaning spree' this afternoon has made my room even more of a mess, and now it's time to head off to work and spend eight hours in Chinatown dealing the cards, ogling the waitresses, and daydreaming of world domination. So it looks like my impromptu treasure hunt will yield no more booty until sometime tomorrow.

Until then, it's time to shower, shave, put on my Johnny Cash clothes, and head on down the road. Them waitresses ain't gonna ogle themselves...

Mikey

Feast Or Famine

It's been a helluva week in the world of your favorite blogger (I am your favorite blogger, right?). Aside from the birthday buffoonery on Wednesday night, the celebration just keeps on chuggin' along. Besides a few random birthday cards, the UPS man has been at my door every day this week. Thanks to you wonderful folks who've hit up the Amazon Wish List, I got a new set of pyrex kitchenware, that Excel for Dummies book, some cool new sandals (which I'm trying to break-in as I type this), another book or two, and last but not least, three bottles of bacon salt from Lisa Lisa The One I Adore...

The bacon salt was the last to arrive, and as of yet, I don't have anything to put it on except maybe applesauce or yogurt. Which I'm a bit hesitant to do. I'm out of chicken salad, which I thought would be a perfect bacon salt delivery vessel, and I'm also out of hashbrowns, grillable veggies, and popcorn. Looks like I'll need to hit the grocery store pretty soon.

Crawling back to work on Thursday evening was a chore, especially after an alcohol-fueled and sleep-deprived birthday on the previous day. I wasn't assigned to my 'home' tables, which I don't mind so much on Thursday or Friday night, because you-know-who isn't delivering drinks in that pit on those nights either.

I still had a couple of tables in Chinatown, but I actually spent most of my night dealing blackjack, which, thankfully, doesn't happen very often. It's not that I don't like dealing blackjack, it's just that I don't like listening to all the whining and bitching when I come down on somebody like a soul-crushing tidal wave of bad beats. I'm constantly amazed by people who feel like they truly deserve to win every hand of blackjack. And what makes it even more entertaining is watching them slowly devolve from a normal human being into a foul-mouthed prick when I deliver body-blow after body-blow, beating them over and over again.

I'd rather deal Pai Gow--for the most part, everyone is pleasant and fairly low-maintenance. It's a great game to deal because of all the 'dead' time where I can be silly, crack jokes, flirt with the waitresses, and catch up on all the scores from the big screen TVs in the bar. It only sucks when you have a table full of non-speaking, non-blinking Asian chainsmokers.

Anyhow, since my favorite lady was not delivering drinks in my area, the consensus pick for hottest waitress on swing shift was bringing the cocktails. What nobody around the casino knows is that I'd gone out with her a few weeks ago, too, and we had a helluva good time. (I think I've somehow managed to get into 'the club' with our cocktail waitresses, kinda like that Seinfeld episode where George got a date with a supermodel--once you're in with one, you're pretty much accepted by all of them). Anyhow, out of the clear blue, in front of a couple of my buddies and a few players, she busted out with Hey Mikey, when are we gonna go out again?

Talk about the ego boost. Of course I had to look around to see who all heard that, and luckily a few people did. All I could do is grin and say, Whenever you want to, just let me know...

Other than that, my only enjoyment from the evening came from beating the shiat out of one of our more well-known stiffs. That, and getting the twenty-minute early push.

Tonight, I'm back on my home-turf, dealing Pai Gow and chillin' in Chinatown all night. But I'll have none of my three favorite ladies to flirt with--all three of them have the night off--so I'll probably make no mistakes at all, due to the lack of eye candy. I'm just hoping to avoid the big, black, non-tipping, nasty-perfume-wearing, blue-Hawaiian-drinking, transvestite hooker that's been following me from table to table all week. But that's a story for another time...

Mikey

Obviously, I Can't Sleep This Morning

Good morning everyone! Hope you're all having a great day. I still haven't gone to bed yet, although I've tried. I just can't sleep.

Nope, it's not indigestion from the Grimaldi's.

I got home a few hours ago from a wonderful night. It all started around 7 pm, when I was putting my shoes on, heading for the door, and Lars called, saying he was already at the bar at Grimaldi's and for me to step on it post-haste. So I may have broken a speed law or two on Horizon Ridge Parkway, and maybe another one on Eastern Ave, but just a few minutes later I was sitting at the outdoor bar, enjoying a perfect spring evening, and sipping on a Bombay Sapphire martini while these two young hotties sitting next to us kept initiating conversation.

Not a bad way to kick off the night.

A few minutes later, RudySwans and his son-in-law Adam showed up and joined us. Lars checked in with the hostess to get us a table, and we were told that there was a 45 minute wait. No biggie, but somebody at the Review-Journal gave their food a thumb's up a few days ago, and the place has been standing-room-only ever since, the bartender told us.

We had another round or two, toasted our birthdays, told a few stories, and eventually had to say goodbye to our new friends at the bar. They were cute and all, but come on, this is Grimaldi's pizza we're talking about. You can't swing a dead cat in Las Vegas without hitting an attractive gal, but good pizza is harder to find than a hot craps table. So off we went to our 'semi-private' dining room. The told us they put all the trouble makers in there, and I began to wonder if the hostess remembered Lars and I from the March Madness gathering...

No worries, though. We all ordered water and iced tea with various types of citrus for garnish, and got down to the business at hand. We ordered three large pies for the four of us. One sausage & mushroom, one pepperoni & mushroom, and one sausage & olive. We kept ourselves entertained by trying to outdo each other on Steven Wright quotes (...the harmonica sounds awesome!) while we waited for the pizzas to cook.

Once they arrived, the conversation basically ground to a halt as we dirtied our shirts and stuffed our faces. Yep--Groundhog Day!--it was excellent. Again.

Even though we stabbed it with our steely knives, we just couldn't kill the beast, and ended up with a couple of boxes of leftovers. The bill for three pies wasn't too bad since there was a birthday coupon for a free large one, so we got out of there relatively unscathed, although Lars was kind enough to cover the substantial bar tab that we'd run up earlier.

Rudy and Adam had to head back down to the Strip, so Lars and I headed back to the Man Cave for a few specialty martinis. The plan was to find a nice outdoor patio, grab another cocktail, and smoke a cigar or two, but during dinner, the wind kicked up to about 25 mph, again, and the temperature dropped about twenty degrees--it was freezing outside. That put the hammer down on any outdoor activities, so we holed up inside with chilled glasses of premium booze for about an hour or so.

But Lars had to get back home to Momma, so he scooted out around 10:30. For whatever reason, I was suddenly dog-tired. Not wanting to miss out on the best part of my evening, I set my cell phone's alarm to go off at 12:45, and gave myself a two-hour catnap.

Before I knew it, I was awake again, so I hopped up off the bed, changed my shirt, took a quick run through some TAG body spray before it hit the bathroom floor, had a belt from the Listerine bottle, and found a pair of matching topsiders before heading out the door.

My destination for the balance of the evening was La Collina, an Italian restaurant/bar down the street that sits on the side of a hill and has a very romantic view of the Strip and the entire Vegas valley from it's floor-to-ceiling picture windows. I got there about 15 minutes before our scheduled rendezvous time, so I entertained myself at the bar with a Captain & Coke and played a little deuces wild video poker. I hit a couple of decent hands, and then got a Wild Royal, so the drinks were paid for.

About that time, my phone started ringing, and the Future Mrs was on the line telling me that she was about a mile away. Staring out the picture windows, I could see her SUV driving along the road below just a minute later.

She joined me at the bar, and the first order of business was to order our new favorite drink. Unfortunately, I can't share the name of it, because I found a recipe for it online last week and the cocktail's name is exactly the same as the Future Mrs' first and last name!

Basically, last week I was doing a Google search for drink recipes that featured Blue Curacao. I have a bottle of it leftover from the Madness, and I have no idea what to do with it. Since I have a martini shaker, martini glasses, and a whole shelf full of mixable booze, I thought I'd spend some of my free time figuring out something to make with it. So there I was happily Googling along on my booze search and HOLY SHIAT, about five or six pages down the list, I saw the Future Mrs' name staring back at me from my computer screen, followed by the word "cocktails". Since she is a cocktail waitress, my heart skipped a beat thinking that there was somebody out there putting her picture in cyberspace.

I immediately clicked on the link, and saw that it was just a recipe page for a drink featuring Blue Curacao. And the inventor just happened to name it, coincidentally, the exact same name as my favorite lady.

So I forwarded her the link, and ever since then we've been talking about drinking them, since the ingredient list looked pretty tasty.

The bartender hooked us up with our smurf-colored drinks, and she wished me a happy birthday. And at that very moment, it really was.

We didn't do much for the rest of the night but play a little more video poker and talk about life in Vegas and life in the past before we knew each other, along with a generous dose of all the stupid little things we have in common that comes from working together in the casino. Funny thing is, she's been thinking about hanging up her cocktail outfit and learning to deal poker, too!

So it was a nice relaxing evening of all-too-rare 'alone' time. And even though several hours passed, much too soon it was over. We said goodbye in the parking lot and headed our separate ways. Sadly, for me, I have to work tonight, and her weekend is just beginning. I won't get to see her again until Saturday.

But last night was pretty good. It should tide me over for a few days.

Mikey

High Praise, Indeed [Updated]

I may have mentioned Bacon Salt at some point in the past, but I have yet to try it. But like a chocolate martini, it's one of those things that you just *know* is going to be good no matter what. And it's been around for a bit, so I'm surprised that I haven't had any yet.

Anyhow, one of my readers, who, for his own protection, shall remain anonymous at this time, offered up the following recommendation via email this morning as we were talking about it:

Bacon Salt has changed my life. The other day I did a salmon fillet on the grill with butter and bacon salt. OMG! You could put this stuff on just about anything. I am tempted to use it the next time I “go south of the border” in the bedroom!

With a recommendation like that, I have to get some, so to speak. I'm not quite sure what I'd put it on first, maybe a burger or some potatoes, or sprinkle it on hash-browns and veggies to kick up a breakfast burrito. I know I'd probably go on a popcorn bender, at the very least.

I haven't seen it in my local grocery store yet, so it's now on my Amazon Wish List. And it's also my birthday today. I'm just sayin'.

Mikey


Update: At least one person has already sent the bacon salt 3-pack from my wish list. Whoever you are, thank you! I'll pick up some popcorn sometime this week and give it a try.

Idol Hands

Ok, I can proudly admit that I've never watched one single episode of American Idol. Seriously, I'm surrounded by so much stupidity, bad music, and annoying people every night at the casino that I can't fathom coming home and letting it invade my brain from the TV screen.

But Miss Rachel has done all of the heaving lifting for the rest of us, and written up one of the funniest posts I've read in a long time. I laughed my ass off all the way through it. Go and enjoy!

Mikey

PS. I kinda like Neil Diamond. And Andrew Lloyd Webber. I hope that doesn't make me a bad person.

Off To A Slow Start

Hey Gang! Hope everyone is having a wonderful Hump Day!

As you may already know, today is my 41st birthday, and the thing is, I don't feel a day older than 39! Must be all that clean livin'. However, for what should be a pretty good day, it's gotten off to an ignominious start. I'm sure it'll get better, though.

First of all, I went down to the Silverton to play a little poker last night. Oh holy shiat what a mistake that was. The tournament starts at 10 pm, but if you play two hours at the cash game during the day, you get your $2000 add-on for free. So I went down at 8 pm and got the last available seat at the 3/6 game that was going on. Normally, it's a pretty soft game, and I can usually count on making a few bucks.

But not last night--Absolutely nothing held up. Pocket Aces, pocket Kings, flopped trips, flopped straights--not one good hand lasted past the turn. I swear, every dealer that sat down either paired the board, or put four to the flush or four to the straight on every hand. It was ridiculous. And of course there were a couple of donkeys calling two raises cold with junk cards and making their hands on the river every time. So it's beginning to look like 3/6 is going the way of 2/4 has for me--it's just too cheap for other players to call raises, and I kept getting run down. So I'll probably stick with 4/8 as an absolute minimum.

Of course, a lot of this is sour grapes because I lost about $160 to a couple of complete donkeys, but the truth is, calling two raises cold with Jack/four 'because they're suited' was just about enough for me to flip my shiat right there at the poker table. But I didn't say anything...

Luckily the tournament started soon thereafter, and I got back into the no-limit frame of mind where big hands had a chance of holding up. I was doing ok, busted a couple of guys, lasted past the re-buy period, but went all-in with Ace-Queen of hearts, when the flop came Queen - Deuce - Jack with two hearts, but lost to Ace-King when a King hit the river.

Seriously, I don't think I've won a single hand with Ace - Queen in all of 2008. Amazing.

Once I was eliminated (in 13th place) I still had $40 worth of chips in my pocket, I decided to go play one hand of Pai Gow and try to double it up. I got eights and Jacks, the dealer got nines and Queens.

Damn.

On my way out the door, I had to walk by the Megabucks machine. Before leaving the house, I had talked to the Future Mrs and told her that my plans for the evening were to win the poker tournament and then win the $20 million+ Megabucks progressive. She was cool with that idea. Since I was already batting oh-for-one, I decided I couldn't let her down, and I put thirty bucks in the machine.

I actually played for quite awhile on that $30, getting enough love to keep on pressing the button for a good twenty minutes. Of course, I didn't quite hit the jackpot, but I made enough to triple up and cash out for $90 before deciding that I just wasn't going to win back the poker losses in the same night.

But technically, I lost the poker money yesterday, but the Megabucks money came after midnight! So I guess I'm off to a decent start, after all.

Once I came home, I was exhausted. I tried to watch a little TV, but fell asleep in the chair, with the ice in my diet Coke melting before I'd even finished half a glass. So I turned off the lights and the electronics and shuffled off to bed. I don't know why, but I was up pretty early this morning. And I've already talked to a couple of the peeps back in Nashville who called to wish me a happy birthday.

I've got no plans for most of the day--just a lot of relaxin'. Later on, I'm having dinner at Grimaldi's with a few friends, and maybe a cocktail and cigar afterwards. Then once everyone heads home for the evening, I'm meeting up with my very most favorite lady in the whole world at a nice, kinda romantic spot where I will get to enjoy the pleasure of her company for a couple of hours. As you may have guessed, I'm looking forward to that even more than the pizza, booze, and cigars all put together...

So even though I'm gettin' old--much older than I wish I was--I still feel like it's gonna be a great day after all is said and done.

Mikey

Wagering With The Good Reverend

One of the (many) quirks of my family is that nobody can seem to drive anywhere or sit in traffic without talking on the cellphone to somebody. Anybody. This is especially true of my younger sister Amy and even Reverend Dave. So a couple of times a week, in mid-afternoon, my phone rings, and I always know that one of my siblings back east is doing their evening commute.

The Good Reverend has a fairly lengthy commute, 35+ miles each way every day across the wilds of northern Alabama, so I hear from him quite a bit. Yesterday afternoon was one of those times. I don't know how the subject came up, but we realized that it was 16 years ago this week that I snagged our first dumpy apartment down in Phoenix and he joined me about a month later.

We had a lot of laughs reminiscing about just how poor and broke we were back then--both living on part-time jobs and student loans, going to school at ASU, buying food stamps for ten cents on the dollar from the local winos, and dating chicks that had no problem whatsoever with hopping the fence and sneaking into the neighboring complex with us to use the jacuzzi in the middle of the night. Those were the days...

Funny how things change. Now when we complain about being 'poor' it's because it costs us $70+ to gas up our brand-new trucks, there's only a couple hundred left in the checking account after the bills are paid, or that we don't feel like we have enough money to go on a ten-day cruise vacation and have to settle for just a week instead.

So we're both a bit better off now, and can afford more expensive hobbies like poker, sailing, shooting, golf, and motorcycle racing. And when Dave and I start talking, the conversation gravitates towards poker and motorcycle racing--the two things we spend most of our free time on, respectively.

Both of us enjoy our diversions immensely, but both of us are relative novices. I've played poker for years, but just started trying to be serious about it in the past year or so. Dave has ridden for years, but just started racing in the past year, too. So naturally this leads to a little sibling rivalry. Somehow in the course of our conversation yesterday we decided to make a wager as to who could emerge triumphant the soonest.

Dave hasn't finished higher than second in any of the races he's entered this year, and I haven't finished higher than second in any live no-limit poker tournaments I've entered this past year, either. We've both finished 'in the money' several times, but neither of us has gotten over the hump and been crowned champion.

So here is the bet -- If he wins a WERA Middleweight Vintage-7 race (with at least eight entrants) before I win a no-limit poker tournament against a field of thirty or more players, he wins the bet. If I notch my first tournament win against a 'real' field before he gets a checkered flag, I win. (I've won a few single-table sit-n-goes, and a couple of small two-table tourneys, but against a bigger field, I'm still on the schneid, so that's how we figured to make the bet the most evenly-matched).

Wanna know the stakes? If Reverend Dave wins, I have to send him a bottle of this:



And if I win, he has to send me a bottle of this:


Let the games begin!

Oh, and in case anyone is interested, here is a pic of Reverend Dave in his element: (clicky for full-size)



When I saw it for the first time, I was like, WTF is up with the orange shirt, dude? but then I remembered that he's from Alabama. If they ain't racin', they're huntin'. The outfit is just a time saver.

Mikey

A Pretty Good Friday... [Updated]

... For a Monday, that is.

Yep, even though I still have to go to work tonight, I'm having a pretty good day. I woke up a little earlier than I'd hoped, when Falcon Rob came stumbling in, home from his cross-country adventure. Since I was awake, I crawled out of bed a few minutes later, took a shower, cleaned the bathroom, put in a load of laundry, loaded and ran the dishwasher, and then wandered down to the office to get a new mailroom key and pick up the mail.

And I wanted to give a shout-out thank-you to a couple of loyal readers who were kind enough to send me birthday presents. Jazzguy sent me a copy of Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, and RudySwans sent me a big damn glass mug with a SPAM logo on the side of it. Of course, the instructions said not to use it for beer, but rum drinks instead. Hell, I think the first thing I'm gonna do is use it for coffee and Kahlua--it's the perfect size.

So thanks again, guys, it's much appreciated!

Also, I believe I'm having dinner with RudySwans out at Grimaldi's on Wednesday night, since we both share the same birthday. (Lars--you comin'?) I'm also planning on going out with the Future Mrs later that night, but she has to work until the wee hours, so I'm not sure if that's gonna happen or not. I'll find out for sure tonight, but like a googly-eyed teenager, I've got my fingers crossed.

But that's still a couple of days away. Today is a nice relaxing day where I'm getting a lot of little things done. And I checked the weather and tomorrow is going to be sunny and 90 degrees here in Vegas! Oh hell yeah--it'll be the first day off I've had since March Madness where it's not going to be windy, cloudy, and relatively cold. So after I hit the gym, I'm going to spend a couple of hours lounging by the pool, catching some rays, drinking a rum cocktail, and re-reading a few of my favorite passages from the scriptures.

Once the sun goes down, I'm gonna go find myself a cash game for a few hours, and if I'm feeling up to it, I'll go and take another run at the Silverton poker tournament. With whatever money is left over, I'll probably run a bit through the Megabucks machine and take a shot at removing myself from the working class once and for all. And when it hits, well, I guess I'll have to take up the Future Mrs on her offer of being my slave (her idea, not mine!). And that would pretty much take care of the rest of the week...

Anyhow, that's about all I've got, except that I want to address a few questions from the comment section:

Lurker: The cashews hold up just fine in the fridge. It's been two days now, and I just finished off another sandie. The cashews are still crunchy, the pineapples haven't gone mushy, and the chicken salad is still damn tasty.

Alleyoop: $1 chips have nothing at all to do with the lack of $5/10 Hold-em in Vegas. Having been going to poker dealing classes on and off for almost three years now, I can tell you that the very first thing they teach you once you learn how to take the rake accurately is how to unobtrusively get $10 worth of $1 chips into every pot. If, as a dealer, you're not getting dollar chips into the pot, you're not getting paid. And one of the most popular limit games in all of Vegas, $10/20 Hold-em, is exactly the same as 5/10, only with twice as much action--all red chips and it's the fastest game in town. And every dealer who deals it gets ten bucks worth of singles into every pot, minus the rake and the jackpot drop.

As far as players not knowing about the rake, you're way off on that, too. Poker players, especially the old rocks, are keenly aware of the rake and always correct the dealer if he over-rakes. I see it all. the. time. Only drunk tourists are unaware, but the sharks that feed on them are the ones tracking the pot and the rake amounts with every hand. As a semi-serious player, I *always* know exactly how much is in the pot and how much rake has been taken, because I'm always thinking about pot odds whenever I'm involved in a hand, too.

Drew: Give up rum and poker? NEVER! Those aren't bad things, anyways. But I'm surprised at your Puritan outlook!. Heh.

Tara: I would PM you, but I have no idea what your T2V screen name is. I'd like to get my hands on that Excel workbook--email me!

I think that just about covers it for today. Y'all have a good one!

Mikey

Update -- About a half-hour after I made this post, I got a call from my favorite lady. We are ON for Wednesday night.

Best. Birthday. Ever!

Best. Chicken Salad. Evar.

I'm sitting here happily rubbing my tummy after having eaten what may have been the finest chicken salad sandwich I've ever had. Yes, it was that good.

And I was looking forward to it all night, having not eaten anything at work except a banana during my entire shift. So when I got home, I was good and hungry, and after I took my shower and such, I went to work in the kitchen putting together this world-class culinary delight.

First of all, yesterday morning, I put four large chicken breasts in the crockpot, seasoning them with salt, pepper, and garlic, and then drizzled them with some extra-virgin olive oil. I also added a generous pinch of chopped chives and parsley. Then came the secret ingredient--a teaspoon of bacon drippings! I added about a quarter cup of water to the pot and turned the whole thing on 'low' and let it percolate for six hours.

Once it cooled, it was beyond fork-tender. I seriously had to use a slotted spoon to get the chicken out of the crock and into a mixing bowl. It took me no time at all to shred it up with just a single dinner fork, and once that was done, I sealed the bowl and put it in the fridge.

Off to bed I went, then I spent the evening in the casino...

When I got home around 3:30 or so, I rough-chopped about a half a cup of cashew halves, and drained about two-thirds of a cup of pineapple tidbits. I added both of those ingredients to the chicken, along with several generous dollops of Miracle Whip, and finished the whole thing off with kosher salt and cracked pepper.

I folded it all together, spooned a hefty portion onto some soft wheat bread, poured myself an icy cold Diet Coke with Lime, and attacked that sandie like Homer Simpson hitting a box of donuts. Oh man, was it ever good! And the best part is that I made enough chicken salad to have sandwiches for the next several days. I've got some wheat sub rolls in the freezer, but I'm thinking a croissant might be even better. Oh well--gotta use the bread I have before it goes bad. Anyhow, if you get the urge to make chicken salad, I gotta tell ya, this recipe just kicks ass.

As far as my night in the casino goes... well, I'll write about that later. I'm in that 'Serenity Now' stage where I want to kick the ever livin' shit out of somebody, but instead, I'm taking the high road. The cool thing is, several other people want to kick the ever livin' shit out of this particular person, too, and they don't have nearly as long of a fuse as I do...

More later... Time to put my feet up and add a little rum to my diet Coke.

Mikey

Overdoing It

Sometimes I'm amazed at my own wussiness. I always thought I was a strong dude, although that whole 'crushing the egg' experiment kind of let the doubts creep in. But back in 1992-93, I used to go to the gym religiously for three hours every day, and even before that I had one of the most physically demanding jobs on the planet--rowing rubber rafts full of cruise ship passengers out to explore icebergs, then taking them down a whitewater river twice a day up in Alaska. But that's a story for another time...

Anyhow, once I quit going to school, and lost free access to a gym, I sat on my ass for ten years straight behind a computer. Clearly, it didn't help the physique.

So a few nights ago, I had the sublime pleasure of spending a couple of hours grinding dancing with the Future Mrs., and whenever we weren't doing the slow ballroom-style stuff, I had my hand on her rock-hard six-pack abs while we impressed the locals with our mad white-people-gettin'-jiggy-with-it skillz.

Excuse me, while I take a moment to reminisce...

Ok. Anyhow... So while this was going on, the thought struck me that I *really* need to start going back to the gym. So I started working out again, every day this week. But I think I overdid it. First of all, last night, my arms and shoulders were so sore that I could barely deal cards. I didn't complain, and I worked through it. And this morning, I could barely do three sets of leg curls with just 60 lbs. on the rack. I swear I thought I was going to get a charlie-horse right there, and get stuck, paralyzed on the machine, unable to extricate myself. So I did the sensible thing and scaled back the leg workout.

(Oh, and for all of you 'experts' that want to chime in and tell me that I should take a day off between workouts, I know this already--I took weightlifting classes in college and have spent $$ on personal trainers in the past--I know what I'm doing. And believe, me, I started out this week very slow and I alternate my exercise rotation daily-- so I'm in no danger of injuring myself).

Once I got out of the lower body torture device, I hit the overhead pull-downs and the butterfly press pretty hard. Just to the point where the last few reps were very difficult, just beyond my comfort zone. Once I finished, I did my time on the treadmill before heading back home.

After I showered and changed, I was enjoying the tail-end of that warm endorphin rush, and noticed that the muscles in my arms were twitching. Definitely a sign of over-exertion. No problemo, I thought--I could use a little over-exertion. But by then it was breakfast time, and I was hungry, and I wanted to cook some scrambled eggs and salsa.

Knowing I could never smash an egg in one hand, I broke them open in the traditional method, on the side of the stove. But I swear, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the salsa jar open! My arms and hands were useless. Well, not quite, but I didn't have the strength reserve to open a damn jar. I struggled with it like an old woman for entirely too long, but after a few minutes of grunting and groaning, I finally broke the seal. But then my arms went back to being useless again, and just lifting the frying pan was a test of my will.

Yep, I definitely overdid it this morning.

I'll be ok though, besides my eggs, I had some yogurt that had a monstrous dose of potassium in it, so I won't get any cramps and I'm feeling better already. But man, I've got a looooong way to go.

Mikey

Spreadsheets and the Poker Junkie

Sifting through all the non-pr0n files on my hard drive, I'm amazed at how many spreadsheets I've created in the past year. And I'm not even that good with MS Excel (I really need to get my hands on a copy of Excel for Dummies). I've got useless stuff from the past football seasons, trying to find trends (not very successfully, I might add) and tracking my bets, I've compiled the traffic stats for this website, and I match up my actual tips vs. potential tips, which has been extremely helpful in motivating me to limit my Early Out time from work.

However, the most useful tool that has been a real eye-opener is a spreadsheet I made for keeping track of my poker playing. Not only hours spent, but bankroll vs. winnings (or losses). The funny thing is that I've been all about the input, and haven't even really analyzed it until this week. The good news is, I'm up over $1200 for the calendar year. The bad news is, I'm in a ten-day slump--I haven't won a dime in almost two weeks. Not that I can count on it, but it seems to be turning into a nice little 'part time job'. Heck, I'll take an extra $300 per month.

Of course, I know I don't have what it takes to be a poker 'pro', just because I don't have the nerve to play big money. Nor do I care to spend 12 hours a day with the dregs of society that sometimes come with the territory. Or maybe I just don't have the bankroll--maybe if I did, I'd find the nerve to move up in limits. Right now, the biggest cash games I play are $4/8 and $6/12. (And I still get nervous when I'm holding a mediocre hand and get raised twelve bucks).

Sidebar--can somebody tell me why nobody in Vegas spreads $5/10??? I can't find that game anywhere! And when I lived in Nashville, I couldn't even find it in Tunica--I had to drive up to some shiatty riverboat up in Indiana that had ONE table. It's hugely popular online, but nobody offers it in Vegas. WTF?

Anyhow, I also play a lot of no-limit tournaments with small buy-ins and a few single-table sit-n-gos. So far, so good. I will freely admit, however, that I have never played in a no-limit cash game. Not even once. I know that eventually I'll have to throw my hat in that ring, but right now the numbers aren't there for me to do so. A regular poker-playing bankroll is required unless I'm just playing lotto-style hit-and-run poker, and the recommended amount is 300 times the big blind. At 2/5 No Limit, that's $1500 of dedicated poker money. But at $6/12, I'm looking at having to keep $3600 on hand.

That ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

All of my profits, especially from the past month or so, have gone to pay off bills, old debt, and stockpile household staples (I learned a few things back during the Dark Times, otherwise known to the rest of the world as '2002'). Building a poker bankroll is so far down the list of priorities that I've not even wasted any ink on it. So I guess that right now I am a de-facto hit-and-run player, as my bankroll consists of whatever is leftover after the bills are paid and the groceries are bought every month.

Anyhow, my rudimentary 'analysis' of my basic spreadsheet shows that I'm a much better player now than I was a year ago, and much more conservative. But it also reveals that I need to track more details, like separating cash games from tournaments, limit from no-limit, time vs. income, which rooms I do better in than others, etc., and I need to compile it all to come up with a monthly result of how much money per hour I'm making at the poker table. This assumes, of course, that I'm actually winning at the poker table. As of right now, knock on wood, I am. But I attribute it to the fact that I have completely stopped playing online poker, which has cut down significantly on the bad beats I've taken. Also, playing live games has taught me a level of patience that online games could never do. Of course, playing slower live games (and not playing multiple games at once) is easier on the bankroll, but on the flip side, I don't see myself going on a rush and winning $1500 plus in one week, either, which has happened for me in the past when I was playing online from my bedroom back in Tennessee.

Slow, steady, and patient seems to be working for me. And not just in poker, either. (And it only took me 40 years to learn that lesson...)

Anyhow, it appears that I'm junking the entire tracking sheet I've been using and will come up with a new system in time to keep better, and more useful records starting on May 1st.

Let's hope my luck holds out and I'm not just tracking losses.


Mikey

Waiting For the Sun

Hey gang! It's Friday morning here at the Man-Cave, and although I'm thoroughly exhausted from my night of work, I'm still chuggin' along, but I'm hoping to fall asleep sometime soon. Yes, I stayed till the bitter end again tonight--It seems as if I don't ask for at least an hour of Early Out time, I'm stuck until the very end--no half hour E.O, no twenty minute push--I am the last man standing. It's not a coincidence, either. There's one floor supervisor who I think is a total douchebag, and he knows I think he's a total douchebag, so whenever he's got the roadmap, he makes sure I'm on the shittiest game possible till the very end of the shift. I guess it's the cross I bear for being teacher's pet every other night, though.

But man, I didn't think I'd make it tonight, either. My first hour-and-a-half was awful. I was on dead games the whole time, and came close to dozing off a few times. I even tried to convince myself that I could skip out four hours early and not miss much money, and a few other dealers agreed. I sent the Future Mrs a text message whining about how bad my Monday sucked and that I wished she was there to endure it with me. But it was her night away from the casino, so she was havin' no part of it.

But when I got back from my second break, the casino was suddenly packed, and I was busy for the rest of the night. So I made it the entire eight hour shift, which I would've never bet on, especially around 8:00 pm or so when the place was dead.

Right now, besides making this update, I'm lying in bed working on my pre-move To Do list. Gotta love a To-Do list where the number one task is Drink as much of the booze as possible so you don't have to move all them heavy bottles. Currently, I'm working my way through a tall glass of vanilla vodka and orange juice (gotta get them vitamins!), and I'm guessing it'll help me sleep well.

After I get up and run a few errands, it's back here to the house where I spend my free time this weekend cleaning and organizing my bedroom closet and the storage closet. Anything I didn't wear or use since I've been here will get tossed in the dumpster (Goodbye, green feather boa!). Oh, and that shiatty old Compaq computer? It's still sitting in the closet. So I'm going to take the case apart and destroy the hard drive, but I'm thinking of taking the monitor to work and dropping it off the roof of the parking garage, just to see it die... That should be fun.

Just an FYI, I wrote out the checks for the utilities this morning. Electricity was $31, Gas was $39. I'm really gonna miss this place.

Mikey