Oh, and speaking of bugs--check out the front of my truck. I haven't washed it since I got back from Phoenix a week ago, but that trek across the desert just pasted my grill with all kinds of flying critters.
Yep, I think it's time for a wash.
Looking through the photos that I still have on my camera, I found a couple that I took on Friday night that I'd forgotten about. Carmen and I had dinner at the 'M' and then spent the rest of the night playing poker. But I had a comp for two for their seafood buffet, so we took full advantage of it.
We got there kinda late--we didn't have much time to really hit it up and try everything we wanted to but we just *had* to hit the dessert station before they closed up for the night. Actually, Carmen has the sweet tooth and did most of the damage. I just got a slice of pecan pie and a couple of scoops of ice cream, but girlfriend mowed it down! Check out the damage--
This is the "before" picture, after the first trip through the dessert line:
And her she is after putting it all down. Girl makes me proud!
While the buffet itself was pretty good (we only did one round of dinner grub--mostly shrimp and chicken, while sampling a few other things), but the desserts were a hit. Carmen made me try the peanut butter ice cream, and damn, it was awesome--it was by far our favorite thing we ate. I had originally gotten a scoop of lemon, but it wasn't very tasty. But that peanut butter ice cream was so good that we both went back on got seconds just as they were shutting the whole place down for the night.
After that, we had a fun night at the poker table until around two in the morning. Then we drove around like the Seinfeld crew for awhile looking for Carmen's car, as she was in such a hurry to get there, she forgot where she parked. We eventually found it and said our goodbyes, but it was a great night.
I slept in on Saturday, after getting a message that my move-in appointment was pushed back until 11:30 am. So I got up at ten, loaded the truck with stuff from the garage, then headed over to the new apartment. It took about a half hour to sign all the paperwork and go over everything, and then I finally got the keys and was able to see the new place.
A nice surprise is that the power was still hooked up for the maintenance crew, so I had lights, A/C, and a working ceiling fan. That made the unload process a bit less of a pain in the ass. But here's the thing. By the time I loaded the truck, drove over, signed all the paperwork, did the walk-through, and then started to unload stuff, everything had been roasting out in the Nevada sun for almost two hours.
And the first thing I grabbed were two 40-lb. surplus 50-caliber steel ammo cans. Oh holy shiat did I burn the hell out of my hands. And I don't have work gloves, either, so I just had to man up and take it. That thirty yards between the truck and the storage closet seemed like a mile. When I got done, I felt like that nazi dude in Indiana Jones after he grabbed the headpiece out of the fire.
And it didn't get any better either. The metal chair frames were just as bad, as was the metal frame on the utility table. And the Rubbermaid totes had gotten so hot that the plastic went soft--while they weren't quite as hot to the touch as the metal stuff, it was impossible to lug an 80-lb tote full of books by the handles. So I hoisted 'em up over my head, coolie style, hoping I wouldn't do another face plant like I did at Eddie's pool last weekend.
It was an extreme workout, and I was sweating like a pig. And like a dumbass, I drove off and left my bottled water back at the house. So I was dying of thirst when I finally finished off the first load. There's a gas station right around the corner, so my first priority was to stop there and get a drink. I think I downed two bottles of Gatorade before getting out of the parking lot, and then polished off another bottle of water by the time I got back to the house.
And before I had even pulled into the driveway, my phone was ringing. It was work.
Shiat.
I did *not* want to get called in right then. But the gal who was working the floor was calling as more of a 'heads up' courtesy call. She said she might need me in about an hour, or not at all, but they'd definitely be calling me for swing shift a few hours later, no matter what.
Ok.... So I guess my moving activities were done for the day. While waiting for her to call back, I did a few other little chores like laundry and such and started clearing out the closet. I braced myself for the bad news when I heard the phone ringing again about a half-hour later, but I was off the hook. Apparently, a game broke, so they didn't need me right away. But I was told to keep the phone handy.
Instead of moving another hot and sweaty truckload of junk, I took a shower and dozed, waiting for the inevitable phone call. I had to get some sleep, figuring I'd be up all night.
Around 9:00 pm, my gal Sheena called, wanting me to go play poker with her. I told her of my situation, said I'd call in and find out when they needed me.
When I got hold of the desk, I was told that I was off the hook for the night--if I wanted to come in and play for a couple of hours I could do so and not have to worry about getting asked to work. No problem there! I would've rather worn shorts and had a beer once I got there, and enjoyed my evening. So I called Sheena back and told her to meet me down there later.
Once I walked in, I was surprised--the casino was packed, as expected, but so was the poker room! I asked the floorman if he was sure I wouldn't be needed, and again he said to enjoy myself and have a beer if I wanted.
Well, I sat down at a 4-8 game, but I could see how busy it was, so I didn't drink. And just as I expected, a couple of hours later, the graveyard shift floorman asked me if I could work. So I cashed out (down $13 dammit--had he asked five minutes earlier, I would've been up almost $40), ran home, got dressed, and came back in, working instead of playing.
But the games were good, and even though I was locked down all night, I made decent money. And I had a lot of fun too--we had a good group of players who chose to stay and play. Nobody was drunk or crazy and there were none of the usual graveyard shift shenanigans going on.
I finally got home around seven in the morning, but I was beat. Saturday kicked my ass. And I *know* I'm gonna get called in early again tonight. I'm fine with that, I'll certainly take the money, but an all-nighter shift is gonna definitely gonna make me want to sleep when I should be moving more stuff. Luckily, I've got all week to get it done.
Anyhow, that's the news from here. Oh, and I took a picture from my front door of my new place. Here's the view as I walk outside:
I'm wondering which one of my drunk friends will be the first one to trip over that rock as they head to and from the pool.
Mikey
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