Walking in a Neon Wonderland...

Good Morning, everyone!

Sorry for not posting yesterday, but some days you just need some time away from the keyboard. Of course, I didn't do anything really at all except watch a bit of tv and do a little reading. And I only left the house to go down to the office and pick up some more packages. Rob got a nice gift from his parents, a 'Girls of Ohio State' bikini calendar, which has already got me re-evaluating my opinion of the Buckeyes, and I got a big box of stuff from Mamasan.

Included was a huge freezer bag full of her famous peanut butter balls. And she covered mine in dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate like she did for Amy and Reverend Dave (of course she likes me better!) There were also about four gifts wrapped up and are currently residing under our Christmas tree (I'll take a picture tonight and post it tomorrow). I've already guessed three of the gifts, one of which I can't wait to open, because I know it is a set of luxurious 500-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Hell, I remember 20 years ago, working at Macy's, the standard sheets were 160 and 180 thread count, 200 were 'luxury', and only Ralph Lauren and Laura Ashley offered 300-thread count sheets, and they were budget busters. I can't imagine how nice it'll be to have 500-thread count linens on the bed.

Besides, sheets like that could help when closing the deal, right?

Yo baby, not only will you get a full night of that special Mikey love, you'll be surrounded by luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets...

What chick would be able to resist that???

Anyhow, speaking of Mamasan, today is her 67th birthday, and I've already spoken to her and wished her the best. Currently, she's living the life of luxury down in Houston, spending the holidays with my sister Nancy and her husband Mark. Sounds like she's having a great time, too. Word is that they're going out to have Chinese food for lunch, and then spending the afternoon at the day-spa getting massages, facials, and other such girlie treatments.

Besides the package that came yesterday, I also got a card from my dad, included inside was a gift card for Maggiano's, which I can't wait to use. Even though I'm normally anti-chain, it's one of my favorite restaurants. I also want to give a shout out and send much love to my gal Darleen down in Louisiana. There was another Amazon package that arrived yesterday, inside it was the Sarah Mac cd, Afterglow. I love me some Sarah McLachlan--every one of her cd's are great. I've already listened to this one twice now, and it's no exception. Thanks again, Darleen!

And further proof that I've been a good boy this year came in the form of a couple of emails, one from one of my favorite dining companions, Drew, who said I have a package on the way, and Flagger, who secured a stash of fine cigars from Fidel's island gulag and has offered to share.

Oh hell yeah!

So what else is new around here?

Well, after thinking about recipes all day on Tuesday, and pouring over my cookbook for hours, I ended up not doing anything except making quesadillas for dinner, and then yesterday I made another batch of biscuits and gravy. Like a lazy bum, I never even made it to the grocery store. But my gravy turned out as good as I've ever made it--I had some leftover bacon drippings from the other day, and that *always* helps, and that new huge cast-iron skillet Cyndi sent me is the perfect pan for making gravy.

I may hit the grocery store today, but since I work every night until Christmas day, I'm not really motivated to do anything--I'll be having dinner in the employee dining room for the next five nights. I'd love to make aebelskivers for breakfast on Christmas day, but I'll probably be eating alone, and that's no fun. When I cook, I'd prefer to cook stuff like that for other people.

Regardless of what I make for Christmas, if anything at all, I'm going to spend the day watching stuff like It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story, both of which are playing on Christmas Eve, and I've got the dvr set to record them. I'm also recording both the Patrick Stewart and George C. Scott versions of A Christmas Carol.

By the way, want to know a dirty little secret about Mikey? Here it is--I've never seen Miracle On 34th Street. Nope, never. You believe that? Here I am, 40 years old, and somehow that has escaped me. But I've never seen Citizen Kane or Blade Runner, either, so make of that what you will...

Anyhow, now that it's after 9:00 am, I can go down to the office and pick up another package that was delivered last night. I'm *hoping* it's my new fleece jacket. Not that some other random surprise wouldn't be cool, but I'd really like to wear a new jacket to work tonight.

That's all for now,

Mikey

Casino Asshats

Working in a casino certainly has it's fair share of ups and downs. I see some truly amazing stuff that one would never experience while working in a cubicle, and I bear witness to the entire spectrum of human drama on display every night. Some of it is pretty cool, a lot of it is funny, and a bunch of it is just a pain in the ass.

Today I want to discuss the pain in the ass aspect of dealing (literally) with the public.

There are a lot of different types of people who come to the casino, and those that are there to just have a good time, and know their limits with both alcohol and bankroll, are what makes the job enjoyable. But on the other hand, there are some real douchebags I see on a regular basis that I'd love to see get kicked in the nuts, just because it would make my day. Let me describe a few for you:

1) The Stroker

The Stroker is normally found at the dice table, and for whatever reason, they usually prefer to stand in the #8 spot, right next to the base dealer. A stroker is a player who has to have action on every roll, which in and of itself isn't a bad thing, but they seem to pride themselves on having difficult, complicated action. The words 'Same Bet' do not exist anywhere in the stroker's vocabulary--after each and every roll, their bets are pressed up in some unorthodox fashion, taken down a unit or two, or taken down completely.

For example, I had this guy the other night--He had a $24 place bet on the SIX. A six was rolled. The normal press move is to go to $30. Not this dipshiat--he told me to press it three units. So instead of the easy move of going to thirty bucks, like 99% of all other dice players in the universe, I had to take his bet from $24 to $42, which involves cutting out $28 (the payoff), handing him the $4 cap from his original bet, and then setting up a six-chip three-color place bet that is just begging to get knocked over on every throw of the dice. And of course a $42 place bet pays $49, and the Stroker won't have a single dollar check in his rack so you can give him two green for a buck when it hits again. Nope, the stroker immediately makes some stupid ass prop bet with any dollar checks you give him. So when the six hits again, as it inevitably will, you have to cut out three colors of chips (one green, four red, and four white). But the Stroker won't take his $49 payoff. He'll press it ONE unit this time, so that it now becomes a $48 flat bet with a $56 payoff (again, three colors). He will then take his remaining three white checks and make yet another prop bet. This goes on and on, and pretty much guarantees that the dealers are rooting for a seven-out every time, if only to keep him from pressing.

Dealing to a stroker at the dice table isn't too bad, as long as he's the only player on your end. But it gets really bad once some other dipshiat wanders over and decides that he's gonna play the same way. And if the table heats up, god help you--it'll be the longest 40 minutes of your life.

Another thing strokers love to do when the point has been established as either a six or an eight is to put a farked up amount of odds behind their line bet. Most $5 players will put $25 in odds back there so that it's an easy two-handed payoff, but not our strokers. We offer 10x odds, so they all take either $30 or $40 in odds, necessitating a three-color payout when the point hits, slowing the game down because the dealer has to go back to their stacks and set up their payout separately, instead of just going around the layout smoothly.

Oh, and it's generally against the Stroker Code to tip. But complaining seems to be a priority.

2) The Blackjack Pussy

This particular type of asshat is probably my favorite, because they are so easy to bust. This is the guy (it's always a guy) who refuses to play basic strategy. He won't hit a 15 or a 16 against a dealer's seven or higher, he always takes even money if he gets a blackjack and the dealer is showing an Ace, and he won't double a soft hand against a dealer's stiff upcard. Basically, he's playing scared.

The even-money taker is my favorite, especially if they're playing at only five or ten bucks a hand. Seriously, nothing screams "I have a small peener" more than taking even money for five bucks. Whenever somebody takes even money, it's an 'alert call' for the floor, so I have to announce it. So I announce it LOUD. And a lot of times when I pay it, I'll say something like Enjoy your five bucks, Nancy... which usually gets everyone else at the table laughing at them.

But it's even more fun when the blackjack pussy is trying to give other players his own brand of wrong advice. You should stand! You should take even money!, etc. Most of the time, the guy has the low stack at the table, and when he does, I like to say to the player who's receiving the advice Oh yeah, take gambling advice from the guy with no money--good idea... Yes, I am a total smartass sometimes, but I can pull it off.

The beauty of the blackjack pussy is that they're never around long, unless they get incredibly lucky.

3) The Pai Gow Flea

I deal with these more often than anything else, but not as much as some unfortunate dealers on my shift. We have a $5 game, but I'm usually dealing the $10 and $20 pai gow tables. But the $5 table is Hell on Earth for a dealer just because it's the same fleas that come in every night and play five bucks a hand and then bitch and moan all night long that they can't make any money. What's even worse is that we give away these stupid raffle tickets every time somebody is 'clocked in' with their player's card and gets a straight or better, and a couple of these morons just won't shut up about getting their tickets. And the tickets are crappy--I think they're giving away a turkey dinner on Christmas day for the current prize. But these asshats just cry and beg for tickets all day long. They make themselves look like even bigger dumbasses because they'll also ask for the tickets that somebody else at the table wins, but isn't interested in being in the drawing. Can I have his ticket? Can I have his ticket? all night long. Of course I tell them not only no, but Hell NO! They don't tip anyways, so they get no consideration from the dealers. The worst thing about Pai Gow fleas is that the game is so slow that you can't bust them. They're gonna be at the table all night.

In addition to the regular fleas, I really hate the 'experts' that comment about every hand, always tell you what they have as soon as they set their hand, and then insist on telling you how to set the house hand as soon as it's turned over. I know the rules to the game better than any other dealer on my shift, and much better than most of the floor people, so I find it especially irritating. Those are the people I love to see lose close hands.

4) The Deuce Bags

This is a group of old ladies that come in and play Deuces Wild several times a week. If they go three hands without seeing a Deuce, they go into broken record mode and let you know every hand. I still didn't get a deuce Mikey, are you sure that there are any twos in the deck??? Luckily, they are decent tippers if they catch a hand, and as soon as they do, they tend to shut up for a few minutes.

5) The 'Great Expectations' Player

This is the blackjack-playing doofus that wanders from table to table with a stack of chips, popping in and out of shoe games and loses pretty much every hand. He'll show up at an empty seat, changing the flow of the cards on a good shoe, messing up the vibe at the table. If he loses his first hand, he always pounds the table, curses, and walks off. If he wins, he inevitably doubles his bet, and then he loses the second hand, so he's behind anyways. Of course he throws a minor hissy fit, whining about how he can't catch any cards. But then he wanders off, only to come back again a few minutes later and repeat the cycle. This is the kind of dipshiat that thinks he should win every hand, and the rest of the table just hates 'em.

6) The Degenerate

These are the people that just won't leave, no matter how bad of a beating you put on them. Some nights, as a dealer, I am just unbeatable. If you sit down at my table, I will clean you out. But some people don't get it. They can't imagine losing twenty hands in a row--they think it's impossible. I'm here to tell you that not only is it possible, it's not all that rare. But the degenerate is so far in the hole that they feel losing is inevitable, and when they win, they bitch that that they didn't bet enough. So then they press, and I beat them again. A degenerate will not leave with money--they will play until they are absolutely broke, and then ask for cab fare and a pack of smokes.

7) The Lonely Guy

This is probably the worst of all the people to deal to, especially on my shift. This is the player who has no family, no friends, no girlfriend, no social life, no place to go, nothing to do. So they come and sit at the table all night and tell you their pathetic life story. And since they have no outside distractions, they always seem to have plenty of disposable income, so they never leave. It's even worse when you're dealing to a good table, maybe an attractive girl is playing by herself, or you have a fun couple, and the lonely guy shows up. He then kills all of your action, and you're stuck there dealing to him.

8) The Random Weirdo

Sometimes, especially late at night, when I'm sitting on a dead table at the far end of the pit, some random freak from the street will wander in and start talking to you. They always start with a question about the game or asking directions to the cage/bathroom/etc., but that's just their 'in'. Once they've got you, they just want to stand there and talk about random freaky shiat like how their grandmother was reincarnated or how the casinos are conspiring against them. Of course, my way out of that is to call the floor over and tell them that the Shufflemaster machine is messing up or it's time to change the cards or something like that and I start ignoring the freak. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. If I get really lucky, a player will come and sit down and the weirdo will shuffle off to bother somebody else.

Anyhow... Eight categories isn't really enough to cover all of the morons I see on a regular basis, but it's a pretty good overview. I could've probably written ten pages about the strokers at the dice table alone, but I think you get the idea. Because working in a casino may not always be fun and games, but it's certainly interesting.

Mikey

Rattling the Pans

The problem with drinking an entire pot of coffee is that it totally kills your appetite. I guess that's a good thing, since I'm sure I could miss a meal or two with no ill effects. But I like to cook, and was considering making another batch of biscuits and gravy (especially now that I got that monster 12-inch cast iron skillet, the perfect vessel for such an edible masterpiece), but now that I'm not that hungry anymore, and it's after noon anyways, that idea has lost it's initial appeal.

But while I was sitting out in the living room, drinking my coffee and half-watching TV (BTW, we now have the Food Network in HD, which I thought was really cool, right up until they showed Rachel Ray's nasty mug. Luckily, they followed up with a close-up of Giada De Laurentis' ample bosom, so balance has been restored to the universe...), I was flipping through my new cookbook, trying to come up with ideas of things to do in the kitchen during my days off.

The weather is perfect for a slow-cooker meal like pot roast or chili, or even a batch of my everything-but-the-kitchen-sink spaghetti sauce, but like a bad case of culinary writer's block, none of those ideas seem particularly inspiring to me, so I've kinda given up for now. I was kind of leaning towards making a batch of beef enchiladas or maybe some pulled BBQ pork sandwiches, but again, nothing is calling out to me at the moment.

I do have one particular burr under my saddle, something I've been thinking about for at least two weeks. When Rob and I had that Chicago-style deep dish pizza out at Amore's two weeks ago, I really enjoyed it. But in the back of my mind, I just knew I could do it better. Chicago-style deep-dish pizza lends itself more easily to the amateur pizza chef, because it can be made in a regular oven at relatively low temperatures (around 400 degrees F). New York-style thin crust pizza, on the other hand, has to be done at super-high temps (around 1200 degrees in a coal oven, a la Grimaldi's) to get it right.

Basically, if you think about it, Chicago-style pizza is more like a casserole. And brothaman can make a good casserole.

The problem, however, is my lack of suitable equipment. Currently, I don't have any deep-dish pizza pans, which is no big deal, because they can easily be found for less than $25. But what one really needs is a KitchenAid mixer, which is pretty much the holy grail of all kitchen gadgets. They are not cheap (about $200), and I'm not so sure I'm up to the task of making a bunch of pizza dough by hand. Actually, I could do it, I'm just not sure I know how to do it, and considering the effort/benefit analysis, I think I'd have to be extra-motivated to attempt such an undertaking.

Seriously, without a mechanical dough-mixer, it'd probably take all day to make a couple of pies. It could be done, but I find myself questioning whether or not it's worth it, when I could just as easily get on the internet and find a different Chicago-style pizza joint in town, make the drive, and see how it stacks up to both Amore's offerings and my own imagined superior home-made pie.

Oh well, just like anything else, I probably won't do anything about it until it gets to the point where it bothers me so much that I surrender and give it a shot. But the big obstacle is the philosophical quandary of Why should I do this, when I have already achieved the summit of the Best Pizza mountaintop?

Seriously, I think if I had an extra $200 burning a hole in my pocket, I wouldn't buy a KitchenAid mixer--I'd go to Grimaldi's ten times instead.

Mikey

Still Cold in Vegas...

But at least I have the next two days off!

Howdy everyone--sorry I haven't posted since Saturday, but my sleep/work schedule has been all jacked up for a few days, so instead of writing, I've done a whole lotta relaxing in my off-time these past few days.

Let's see, what's been happening in the world of Mikey? Well, like I said, it's still too frickin' cold here in Las Vegas, and it's not even officially Winter yet. And since I really don't have much in the way of winter clothes, outside of a few flannel shirts and a leather jacket, I broke down last week and bought a fleece jacket. Not that I really wanted to spend the cash, but my hoodie with the broken zipper just wasn't cutting it as far as keeping me warm goes. Of course, I could get the zipper fixed, and I actually tried to do so on Saturday, but I was denied.

When times are good, I always just replace clothes whenever I need something new, but cash has been tight for several months, and instead of buying new stuff, I take my clothes to the alterations shop for repair. Well, I haven't needed to do so in quite awhile--basically since I moved into this apartment last summer--so now that a couple pairs of work pants needed attention, I took a few things down to the local shop here in my new neighborhood.

Big mistake. I got nothing but attitude from the nazi/Hun bitch that was working in the place as soon as I walked in, (These must be dry-cleaned before I can work on them!) and then she told me it would cost me $30 to repair the pants (basically fix two seams, a sewing job that would take TWO minutes, tops, and use maybe fifteen cents worth of materials). At the alteration shop over in my old neighborhood, any seams would cost $4 to fix, and they'd do them while I waited, or at the longest, they'd be ready the next day.

So, instead of getting my pants done and a couple of zippers fixed on other items, I took the whole pile of clothes back to the truck and basically told the lady she was a con artist and wouldn't be getting my business. I guess I'll be heading back over to the old neighborhood at some point in the next two days and getting all the work done there.

Oh well. In the meantime, I'm waiting for the UPS man to deliver my new jacket (yes, I ordered it online--no tax and free shipping!) Perhaps when I was shopping, I should've just ordered a couple of pairs of new work pants, too.

Anyhow, while I was out, feeling a little bitter about the whole alterations shop experience, I went over to Albertson's to use that $25 gift card they gave us at work. The plan was to use it to buy a bottle of rum, but damn, Albertson's was trying to rip me off on Saturday too! They wanted $14.99 for a bottle of Captain Morgan. Believe me, I've bought enough of that stuff in the past to know when I'm getting jacked. Everywhere else in town sells it for about $12.99 a bottle. Stoli Vanilla? They wanted $21 ($18 at Lee's or Walmart). Basically, every bottle of booze I would consider was overpriced, so I just gave up and went without. I ended up buying a bunch of cheese and crackers and stuff like that, instead, along with a bottle of toffee-flavored coffee creamer.

Seriously, I have no idea how Albertson's stays in business out here--everything is so overpriced.

As far as work goes, it seemed to be getting better these past few weeks, but then on Saturday, business just died again. I figure it was because everyone was going to Christmas parties and such elsewhere and finishing up all their holiday chores. It's been pretty slow the past three nights or so, but I'm sure that once Thursday or Friday rolls around, all the local degenerates with family in town will be out and about once again.

I found out that yeah, I will be working on Christmas Eve (big shocker there), but since it's my 'Friday', I should be able to get out early. A bunch of people I work with want to go out after our shift, but I'm not so sure I want to join them (I feel bad that I'm stuck working that night, and I'd hate to do that to some bartender some where, too). But I've got Christmas day off, which is cool, so hopefully I can go out and have a nice dinner with friends that night. But then I have to go back and work on Wednesday night, which makes absolutely no sense to me, and then they gave me Friday night off. Hmmm... I hope it's a good trade, as far as tokes are concerned. I *really* don't like giving up my Friday nights. And I'm not a big fan of split days off, either.

Anyhow...

That's the news from out here. I know, it's boring, but I hope to have a few more interesting posts later today and tomorrow. Right now I want to get up and make a pot of coffee and sit in front of the TV for awhile (they added a bunch of new HD channels to our lineup this week, so I'm gonna go see what we've got).

Later,

Mikey

They Call Me the Soul Crusher

Brothaman is a tuckered out little trooper this morning--I got absolutely worked last night. So right now I'm laying here flat on my stomach, stretching my legs and arching my feet, trying to fight of the charlie-horse that is doing it's damnedest to make an appearance. But more about that later--Let's start at the beginning.

After I made that post yesterday, I still didn't go straight to bed. I did a little more web surfing, posted a few odds and ends over at T2V, and then I got an email from Mamasan, so I knew she was up, and I decided to giver her a call since she'd left me a voice mail the day before.

We ended up talking for a half an hour or so (apparently there is another package on the way! Peanut Butter Balls--Woot!), before we wrapped it up and she headed out to lunch with a friend. I think I finally went to bed around 7:30, thinking I'd get up around noon, head down to the alterations shop (yes, more repairs to those trendy black polyester pants!), fill up the gas tank, and then go over to Albertson's and spend my $25 gift card they gave us at work. I'm leaning heavily towards purchasing a Hickory Farms Beefstick, some spicy mustard, a box of crackers, and a bottle of Captain Morgan--Merry Christmas to me!!!

Anyhow, those were the best-laid plans.

The next thing I knew, it was 4:15 in the afternoon. But I woke up very refreshed and relaxed, if not a little bummed about wasting the whole afternoon. But my back didn't hurt and I was ready to go. I guess the errands will have to wait another day.

But I killed an hour or so before heading to the casino, still wondering where I'd end up or what I'd be dealing. It turns out I was put back on the 'Keds' string--nothing but $5 shoes. Ugh. Oh well, it beat the hell out of getting sent to that Bonus Holdem flea game I hate so much. Between all the dealers, we've decided that the worst three tables to deal are Bonus Holdem, Let It Ride, and Mini Pai Gow. I swear if I had to deal all three of those games every night, it wouldn't be long before I grabbed the hunting rifle, packed a lunch, and climbed a tower... But the bosses seem to know it, and have split those games up, just to maintain our sanity. And on the plus side, it's been over a month since I got stuck on Let It Ride, so I guess I can't complain too much about that.

Anyhow, my first table was good and crowded with a fun group from Erie, PA--the home of the O-Needers! It turns out that they just weren't random touristas, but faithful lurkers readers of HurricaneMikey.com. And they were setting a fine example of how to tip the dealer, so of course I was rooting for them to win. But the jerkoff who stiffed me all night long was the only one winning, turning a $60 buy-in into something around $400. Anyhow, it was an enjoyable hour that went much too quickly. I hope they made some money, but they were gone by the time I got back three hours later.

My other two tables were up in the bar, which is good and bad. First of all, there is no player tracking up there, so I don't have to hassle with player cards or people begging for comps, players are only allowed to play one hand, and there are no pit bosses or floor people around. Basically, you're on your own, which is cool, because if I have a drunken asshole at the table, I can tell him to f*ck off. But most people that play up there are really cool. The problem is, I was just obliterating everyone who sat down. NOBODY colored up with any checks--I took EVERY dime from everyone who sat down. I was unbeatable. At one point, I got nine twenty-ones in a row! (Yes, the players were counting them down after the third one). It was just a bloodbath. So of course I ended up standing dead for almost two hours straight, and let me tell you, that just kills your feet and legs. It's like standing at military parade rest, but still, try it for forty minutes and you'll go nuts. At least I had a cocktail waitress or two to flirt with, but they were so bummed out because the bar was just dead last night. (No more live band--we got some lame DJ now).

But it was just a killer to stand there doing nothing--I'd much rather have a full table, just so the time passes. I had a tv right in front of me, but they were playing the NBA game, and I hate the NBA, and I especially hate the Lakers, so that was no help, either.

Luckily I got to go back to the main pit after 11 and deal a normal game, but I was still kicking everyone's ass, so the table would go dead, a few minutes would pass, and then some random person would walk up with 20 or 40 bucks, lose every hand, then walk away muttering obscenities, and the cycle would repeat for an hour. Not much fun. And that's pretty much how my night went. Too bad all my Stations stock got bought out and privatized, because I made the company some money last night.

I finally got tapped out at 2:20 and told I could take the half hour and go home, so I hobbled back to my locker, changed clothes, hit the timeclock, and said goodnight to all the chumps who had to stay behind.

Of course, once I got home, I was totally stiff from finally sitting down after about 8 hours of standing in one spot, so I looked like a retard trying to climb the steps to my front door. But another super-hot shower seems to have done the trick, and I feel much better. I was thinking that I'd go down to the jacuzzi again, but it's even colder now than it was the other night, and I didn't want my swim trunks to freeze on me during the walk back, so I gave that idea a pass.

My plan is to get to sleep a little earlier than I did yesterday so that I don't waste my entire day again. I've got to get to the alteration shop and gas up the truck today, otherwise I'll be out of gas on the side of the road wearing ghetto-fabulous black polyester pants with the ass ripped out of them. And if that happens, only the weirdos will stop to help me.

Mikey

Friday Morning, Still Cold

But I'm not complainin'. Much too soon it will pass and before you know it I'll be bitching about the heat.

I'm still up from my night at the casino, which was an odd one this time around. For the first four hours I didn't do a damn thing. My tables were dead, and I was only doing 40-minute rounds, so it made the night just drag by. But sometime after 11, they closed the tables I was on and put me on busy games, so it wore me out. Luckily I got the early push and was out the door by 2:30.

I came straight home, cleaned the bathroom (too lazy to do it yesterday), put in a load of laundry, took a hot-as-I-could-stand-it shower, put on some clean clothes, turned the iPod onto the Christmas playlist, poured myself a Coke (no rum, not in the mood), and crawled in bed with my square-headed girlfriend (her name is Toshiba) to surf for a couple of hours.

Anyhow, at work, I started the night stuck on shiatty games again--that god-awful Bonus Holdem game, and a $5 shoe blackjack game. After an hour of sitting on my ass doing nothing, one of the bosses came over, so I asked if she had a minute.

I reminded her that I'm one of the 'producers' when it comes to tokes, and if I'm sitting on games that get no action, I'm just wasting my time and it's hurting the rest of my co-workers. I also told her that I was sick of being put on that crappy-ass Bonus Holdem game every night anyways, and not dropping any money in the toke box was just adding insult to injury.

She agreed, and she said that she'd look into getting me onto some new games next week, which will improve my outlook considerably. Of course, before I left for the night, I checked tomorrow's roadmap to see what games I'd be dealing, and wouldn't ya know it, they forgot to assign me to any tables. Doh! Oh well, I'm sure somebody will call in sick and I'll reprise my role as the middle reliever. At least on Sunday I know I'm scheduled on dice all night, so that'll be a nice change of pace. I'd hate to deal dice every night to the same local fleas we've got that come in all the time, but once a week or so is a great break from Chinatown.

As far as the night in the casino goes, it was pretty mellow. When I finally got some action, it was mostly at the blackjack tables, although I managed to squeeze 40 minutes of Pai Gow in at one point. I guess the highlight of my night is that I took about $1600 off of this foul-mouthed drunken Asian chick who couldn't understand that it just wasn't her night to win. I kicked her ass all night long, like Vezzini from The Princess Bride did to Clark Griswold, and she just wouldn't throw in the towel. She kept going to the ATM, and I kept kicking the ever lovin' shiat out of her bankroll. Now, early on, I was rooting for her, as she'd tip me a fiver ever few hands. But once the cards got cold, she got nasty and abusive, so it was my sublime privilege to bust her. Even the other players at the table kept telling her to leave, that she couldn't beat me, but she kept trying.

What made it even worse is that as soon as she'd get up to go to the ATM, or cage, or wherever she went to get more cash, everyone else at the table would start pulling blackjacks and I'd start busting. It was uncanny--it's like somebody hit a switch and the mood of the table would improve instantly. But invariably, she'd come back, bringing her bad karma and raincloud of sorry luck with her, and the party would end...

Two hands in a row, she had a pair of face cards for a twenty, and I pulled a 7-card 21 to beat her. Every time she doubled down, she'd get a low card and I'd make a hand. It was ugly. Another time I dealt her an 18, but the other four players at the table all had 20s. Damn straight I turned over a 19! But she kept getting nastier and nastier (they finally cut her off from the booze), and by the time I left, she was down to about fifty bucks. Heh. Had I stayed all the way till 3:00 am, she would've been pawning her jewelry and auctioning one of her kidneys to stay in the game. Can you say Degenerate, boys and girls?

Now, clear at the other end of the spectrum, when I was at the Pai Gow table, on one hand, I dealt a Royal Flush (a 150-1 payoff!), and on the very NEXT hand, I dealt TWO four-of-a-kinds to players who were sitting right next to each other. I thought the shift boss, who was standing right behind me at the time, was going to shiat. The only thing she said to me was "Are you feeling ok Mikey?".

I'm guessing you won't find me sitting behind a Pai Gow table tonight, that's for sure.

Anyhow, it's getting late, and the sun is gonna come up soon, so I better wrap this up. I want to be fast asleep in my dark cocoon before the sun makes an appearance, or else I won't catch any quality shut-eye. Then I'll be tired all day and grumpy at work tonight, and that just won't do.

Y'all have a good one.

Mikey

Baby It's Cold Outside

Holy crap it's cold here! Right now it's a balmy 51 degrees here in America's Playground, and I am curled up in bed with my sleeping bag over my head, sipping coffee, and typing with fingerless gloves, like a bum you'd see under a bridge somewhere (if the bum had a laptop and a wireless internet connection).

It was even colder earlier this morning, around 3:30 am, when I put on a flannel shirt, my hoodie, and swim trunks and scurried on down to the hot tub. Yep, I checked before I went outside--31 degrees!

But the hot tub had lots of inviting steam wafting across the surface (as did the semi-heated swimming pool), so I pushed the button, kicked off my flip-flops, pulled of the hoodie and shirt at the same time, and hopped into the hot water, where I immediately immersed myself all the way to my neck. And I stayed that way until the water stopped bubbling.

It felt great on my back, but getting out, drying off, and heading back to the apartment a half-hour later was an exercise is near-freezing suckitude. What makes it even worse is that once I got back to the house, I went to change out of my wet trunks and put on some warm clothes, but due to the trendy architecture of my apartment, my walk-in closet is exposed to the elements on three sides and is inadequately insulated, so opening the door to my closet is kind of like walking into an industrial sized refrigerator. Instead of fruits, veggies, and meat on the shelves, it's my clothes that are kept fresh and crispy. I found a flannel shirt and some jeans, and after just a few minutes of wearing them, the chill had worn off, somewhat.

Since I was still wide awake, and sort of hungry, I decided that I'd make the donut run and head for Dunkin Donuts over in Silverado Ranch. (BTW, no side-by-side comparison to Krispy Kremes. I don't do that for pizza, and again, it was so cold outside that I just wanted to get home, so there was only one stop this morning).

Anyhow, I found the newest Dunkin Donut shop over on Bermuda and Silverado Ranch, scarily close to the old 'stripper house'. It was too early to use the lobby, but the drive-thru is open 24 hours, so I got a half dozen for around five bucks.

First of all, the store is damn near impossible to get to if you're not heading north on Bermuda, due to the divided roads and big honkin' 'NO U-TURN' signs everywhere I wanted to make one. Seriously, I had to go about a half-mile out of my way in order to turn around and get to the parking lot entrance. Not convenient at all, even when there is no traffic. I'd hate to try and get in there during rush hour, because half of Vegas lives in that neighborhood.

Anyhow, once I finally got to the window, I ordered a couple of glazed, a jelly, Boston Creme, a chocolate cake version, and something else I can't quite remember. I drove straight home, poured a glass of milk, and set upon my 'research' (because there is nothing I won't do for my readers!).

The first thing I noticed, is that the donuts were much smaller than I remember. (I haven't bought donuts in years, but I don't think my hands have grown that much). Secondly, the donuts were just... ok. Not that great. I think my initial reaction was, Feh.... Maybe it's just because I don't really like donuts all that much. I'm like Homer Simpson in a lot of ways, but that's not one of them.

I think I was 'over' donuts about a year ago when I fetched a box of Krispy Kremes and coffee one morning at New York New York for Sticky. We sat there in the hotel room eating them, and I distinctly remember thinking that 1) I was enjoying the coffee more than the donut, and 2) the donuts were waaaay too sweet for me, and not really filling at all. I thought that might just be the KKD's, but the Dunkins are pretty much the same, as far as I can tell. They were good, but certainly not worth breaking the law for, making an illegal u-turn and such. Although, the chocolate fudge cake donut this morning was truly awful. I took two bites and threw it away. The Boston Creme was good, and so was the glazed. Haven't touched the jelly one yet.

The verdict: Not bad, but I just don't much care for donuts. Won't be going back.

After that little culinary distraction, I watched a bit of TV, surfed the net for awhile, and then basically tried to get a little sleep. I woke up to hear the doorbell ringing, and it was the UPS man again.

This time the packages were for me, instead of Rob, one from DeeDee in The O.C., and another from Lisa in Mass. That's right--the ladies are takin' care of me today! DeeDee's present was wrapped, so it's under the tree, but Lisa sent along the James Lileks book, Gastroanomolies, and the Dead Man's Chest DVD from my wish list.

Thank you, ladies--I'm sending much love your way! (Lisa--email me, I don't have your addy). Hope y'all both have a wonderful Christmas.

But it was still cold outside, so after opening the boxes, I retired back to my nice warm nest to read the Gastroanomolies book. Oh my god, I've never seen such awful-looking food in my entire life. And I eat in the employee cafeteria five nights a week! It's a fun, and interesting, read. And it makes those crappy donuts I ate this morning look like the greatest thing to ever hit a plate.

As far as the rest of the afternoon is concerned, I think I'm gonna just hole up here until around 6 pm, when Lars Vargas makes another appearance and we head down to Fremont Street for another evening of microbrews and cigars. And maybe some touristy picture-taking, too.

Excuse me while I step into my walk-in and fetch a sweater and pair of slacks from the produce shelf.

Mikey

No Skillz

Well, I learned something new about myself last night--I have absolutely no skills whatsoever when it comes to playing Guitar Hero II. Or any version of Guitar Hero, for that matter.

After I got out of work, I headed over to a friend's house, where an all-day/all-night birthday party was raging for one of the girls on my crew. It was a helluva party--they had a poker game going, a blackjack table, a kitchen full of food and booze, several coolers full of beer, and in the living room, they had an Xbox hooked up to the 60-inch plasma, featuring Guitar Hero II.

As far as I'm concerned, video games reached their zenith in 1981 with Asteroids, so all this stuff they have nowadays is a complete and total mystery to me. But I gave it a try. Hell, I used to play guitar all the time, and was even in a band, so how hard could it be?

But I'll be damned if I didn't fall flat on my face and completely embarrass myself a few times. I seriously had the worst success rate of anyone at the party. I suck. And it was set on 'Easy' for me, requiring the use of only three buttons on the controller. Still, it's a fun game, and if I were into video games, I'd totally get hooked up with Guitar Hero.

Oh well, aside from my getting booed off of the virtual stage, it was a pretty good time for a few hours with all of the other buffoonery going on around the house. There was silly string involved. And shot glasses. And remote control toys. Sharpies. Party hats. Noisemakers. And that was just the tail-end of the evening. It started around noon on Sunday, and I didn't get there until around 2:00 am this morning.

But I tempered my enthusiasm, knowing I had to drive home at some point, and I got here just ahead of the sunrise. I didn't sleep too well, but it's been a relaxing day.

I was dozing in the magic sleepy-time chair in the living room until the doorbell rang. The UPS man showed up again about an hour ago, delivering two more packages, but they were addressed to Rob. Bastard. As much as I want to have all the toys, I'm guessing these packages were full of subversive Ohio State merchandise or Star Trek action figures, stuff I have no use for...

Mikey

I'll Have a Blue Christmas

I guess there is a downside to all that productivity from yesterday. I got a lot done, but the Law of Unintended Consequences must be satisfied, so there were a few side effects that came along with my cleaning frenzy.

First of all, I went to put a load of laundry in the washer, and guess what I found sitting in the bottom of the machine? Nope--not my wallet--I've been very careful with this latest one. Instead of washing my ID and debit cards on a regular basis, I've moved on to laundering pens. Blue-ink roller gel pens, to be exact.

Of course I panicked, but when I pulled it out, there were no ink globs leaking out and it appeared that there was no harm/no foul to the washing machine. I even brought it back to my room to see if it still worked on a piece of paper, and it wrote like it was brand new. No problemo.

So a few minutes later, I pull the clothes from the dryer. It was a load of whites. WAS is the operative word here. Pretty much every article of clothing in that load now looks like a Chargers throwback jersey. Except for my Hurricane Mikey shirt and a pair of boxer briefs--they're full-on dark blue on one side, with big huge ink spots.

Being a guy, and a bachelor to boot, I'm certainly not going to throw them out. Unfortunately, I can't really do anything with my Hurricane Mikey shirt except wear it around the house now, which is too bad, because it was certainly a conversation starter. Even the teller at the bank was asking me about it the other day.

As far as the ink-stained blue boxers go, well, I think they'll come in handy if I ever find myself under the mistletoe with an accidental Smurfette.

Mikey

Long Day

So, now that college football is over except for the Bowl games, what is one supposed to do with their Saturdays? There was a full slate of college hoop on, but I can't really get into that until after the NFL playoffs/Superbowl is over and the NCAA is deep into their conference season. So the TV remained dark for most of the day, except that I put in on channel 901 'Sounds of the Seasons' for a little Christmas music as background noise while I did my chores.

And brotha, I did a *lot* of chores.

I got my room cleaned, my closet about halfway organized, washed, dried, folded, hung, and put away about six loads of laundry, vacuumed the house, paid some bills, balanced my checkbook, chatted with the nice folks at Cox technical support for about a half hour, went Enron on a shoebox full of old bank statements, and even made my bed.

Tomorrow, even though there is a bunch of football on, will consist of me cleaning my bathroom and finishing off the rest of my closet.

Even though I have to leave for work in an hour, I'm basking in the glow of a pretty good sense of accomplishment right now. And as far as my back goes, I woke up too early again this morning, because it was hurting like a mo-fo again. I took a few aspirin with my morning coffee, but figured it was hurting do to inactivity, and a little bit of work wasn't going to make me feel any worse. So instead of lying around in bed and whimpering, I gutted it up and just went full speed on my housekeeping chores. And you know what? I feel *much* better.

And the problem isn't with my lower back--the kind of pain that can basically cripple you because you can't bend or twist. Nope, it hurts right between my shoulder blades, so it doesn't really keep me from doing anything. If I have to blame it on anything, I'm guessing it's that stupid Bonus Holdem game at work that I've had to deal every night for the past month. The chair is shiatty and too low, the table is too big--half the players' bets are almost 40 inches away from the dealers' side of the table, and there is a lot of twisting, lunging, and scooting that goes on with trying to deal that crap for an hour straight.

But luckily tonight I'm on a better string of games--two Pai Gow tables and Deuces Wild. That means I'll be busy all night and the time should pass fairly quickly.

Mikey

Bad Cop. No Donuts.

I must offer my sincere apologies for my lack of posting for the past couple of days. But the road to Hell has been repaved with my good intentions--I really wanted to put up a couple of things, but I've been swamped with other little projects and haven't really had much free time.

First of all, we still haven't done the Krispy Kreme/Dunkin' Donuts taste test yet. On Thursday, we were so full from dinner the night before and busy sleeping in that it didn't happen. And then on Friday, I didn't get home until after 6 am, slept four hours, and then left again for most of the rest of the day. Here it is Saturday morning, and I thought about it on my way home, but I spaced it on the freeway after work and took the wrong exit and didn't feel like taking the long way over to Eastern & Bermuda, so I just came home. We can still do it next week--those donut shops aren't going anywhere.

So what have I been up to in the interim?

Well, Thursday night after work, I got together with a bunch of friends over at Sierra Gold, a local bar in Henderson, as we were having a small going-away gathering for one of the gals who was quitting and taking a job at Bally's as a floor supervisor. So I sat up till the wee hours with my buddies Todd and Jovanka, drinking and catching up.

I also learned that evening that my Serbian gal Jovanka is a FREAK of nature. First of all, she's built like a brick house--tall, thin, stacked, and ripped. She's a kick-boxer and one night I saw her kick a dude in the head like it wasn't anything. BAM--Like a cobra strike! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! I always tell her that I'm afraid of her, and we laugh about it, but deep down I know she could kick my ass.

In fact, she always reminds me of a line I stole from The Italian Job and told her a long time ago and it still makes her laugh:

There are three mothers you never mess with-- Mother Nature, mother in-laws, and Mother F*ckin' Serbians!

Anyhow, after the experiment with the raw eggs that Rob and I did a couple weeks back (See the Two Morons post from last month), I was telling everyone at the bar that they couldn't crush an egg in their bare hands. Nobody believed me, so we had the bartender fetch an egg from the kitchen and we passed it around. I offered ten bucks to anyone who could crush it with their bare hand, but if they couldn't, they'd have to give me a dollar.

Of course, I collected more singles than a motivated stripper with rent due in the morning, but when it got to Jovanka, she was determined to crush it. And I'll be DAMNED if she didn't do some funky European Jedi mind trick and shatter that egg in less than thirty seconds!

First of all, we were all flabbergasted, and the funny thing was is that she did it right over the top of her open purse, so we had a HUGE laugh at that. And she thought we were all playing a joke on her by faking it so that she'd crush it and make a mess.

Nope. She's just got insanely strong hands. So we cleaned up the goo and I paid her ten bucks, shaking my head and wishing I'd had a video camera handy. I think Todd's only remark was Holy shiat--She was built in a lab!!!

But we had a great time, and finally called it a night around 6:30 in the morning. And as luck would have it, the bartender comped all of our drinks, thanking us for bringing a crowd in, and he gave us a bunch of free drink tickets for the next time we visit. Score! Of course, we ended up tipping him about eighty bucks--after all, we filled up one of his video poker machines with raw eggs.

Anyhow, I got about four hours of sleep, but woke up and my back was just KILLING me. I don't know what's wrong, but every night for the past week or so, I can't sleep because my back has been hurting. So when it got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore, I said The hell with this! and got up and called a chiropractor.

I ended up spending over a hundred bucks that I really didn't have, just to get an adjustment and get some time on that table with the electronic spine massager. It helped, but I was kind of pissed. My insurance didn't cover it, but damn, when you're that uncomfortable, you'll pay a thousand bucks for a few moments of relief. Afterwards I went to the bank, the gas station, grabbed some lunch, and then over to my insurance company to have them push back my due date a week because of this unexpected expense. They were totally cool about it and I don't even have to pay a fee or penalty. That was nice.

But I didn't get home till after 4:00 pm, and I was dozing on the couch, irritated that I had to get ready for work just over an hour later--I really could've used a nap. And a cocktail. And my back started hurting again.

As soon as I pulled into the garage at the casino, I saw Jovanka pulling in right behind me. As we were walking to the elevator, she asked me how I was doing and I said Crappy--My back is killing me!

Not to worry, she had a bottle of Happy Pills that her doc gave her awhile back--some sort of prescription pain meds. So she gave me two of them, and as soon as I got to the dining room I took them. Of course she warned me that I'll probably get really tired, which sucked, because I still felt exhausted from the night before.

Well, I don't know what was in those magic beans she gave me, but they didn't make me tired. In fact, they had the opposite effect. I was wide awake and bouncing around all night like a ferret on a double espresso. And I was in a damn good mood, too. I swear, she must've accidentally given me some anti-depressants or something, because my silly meter was pegged, and I must've dropped $300 in tokes before 10:00 pm. Those that were lucky enough to sit at my tables at the beginning of my shift saw Mikey in rare form--And my back didn't hurt either!

Of course, it didn't hurt that I didn't see any of our regular fleas, and I did my first hour on the dice table, filling in for a call-out until the 8 pm crew showed up. And I had a couple of uber-Georges at the $20 Pai Gow table, so last night actually went by pretty fast for me. And I was even one of the unlucky ones that had to stay till the bitter end, not getting the half-hour push, and punching out sometime after 3:00 am.

Anyhow, I scurried off to my truck and was speeding down the freeway singing Christmas music at the top of my lungs, and auto-piloted myself off at the Green Valley exit instead of going down to Eastern, so that's why there are no donuts on the counter waiting for me and Rob to taste test them in a few hours.

Now you know.

Mikey

It Must've Been A Good Time

Because it started with this:



And ended with these:



I guess I've got some esplainin' to do about the middle part, huh?

Tuesday was my day off, and I didn't do a whole lot--slept in, surfed the net, listened to some music--the usual. Rob worked that day, but came home and took a long nap.

The plan that evening was to go get some deep-dish Chicago-style pizza and then head over to his old roommate's place for a night of cheap craps and cheap beer. So once he finally drug his lazy ass out of bed, we headed over to Amore's on the West Side (I think it's on Durango, just north of Flaming-O).

The restaurant sits in a strip mall with a bar and a Chinese take-out, with one helluva nice view of the Strip from the parking lot. We got there a little after 8:30, and by 8:45, we had our root beers (no liquor license yet), and had ordered our meal. We were going to go with two individual ten-inch pizzas, but the waitress talked us into a large, saving us a few bucks. Enough to buy an indistinct, almost bland, basket of breaded mushrooms.

As far as our pizza goes, we got it half & half--Rob's half was sausage and onion, my half was pepperoni and mushroom. Then we settled in for the long haul, as it takes almost an hour to cook one of those monsters. We nibbled on mushrooms and warm bread with butter, but paced ourselves, knowing that we had a huge pie coming our way.

The decor of the restaurant was fairly simple--the walls were full of pictures of both Vegas and Chicago icons, we sat on stackable banquet chairs, but the tables were cool as hell. Each one featured a Vegas landmark on the dining surface, blown up full-table sized and glassed in. I *really* wanted to steal the one with the Bellagio fountains, but they probably would've caught us.

After our mandatory waiting period had passed, our waitress brought out a huge piping hot pan full of Chicagoey goodness.

The long-awaited virgin slice.

You see how thick that is? I swear each slice weighed almost a full pound. It smelled and looked great, although at first glance I was a little disappointed in the weak distribution of mushroom slices. But I got over it after my first bite.

The pizza is great--no doubt about it. I enjoyed it immensely. But I'm a thin-crust guy, so the thick crust doesn't do it for me. Luckily, they'd brought a huge bowl of ranch dressing with our mushrooms, so we had plenty left over for me to dip my crusts in, and I was pacified. Rob and I did a little horse-trading and I tried a slice of the sausage and onion, and honestly we both thought it was better than the pepperoni. Next time I go, my toppings du jour will be sausage and black olive. Onions are great, but I think they go better with ham. Years of research has taught me this.

But the question on everybody's mind is, Is it better than Grimaldi's?

And the answer to that is a resounding NO. Not that you can really compare the two, but in the immense pizza universe, Grimaldi's stands head and shoulders above any and all competition. Is it the best Chicago-style pizza? Well, it's pretty damn good, and I'm probably the wrong person to ask. I am an aficianado of the thin stuff, and my experience with deep-dish pizza is limited at best. I guess more testing is required.

Anyhow, Rob and I both waved the white flag of surrender after just two pieces each, boxing up half of it to go.

The remains of the day. Notice that our ranch dressing was served in a cereal bowl.

We were so full that we took a few minutes to digest before attempting to waddle out of there. I think the entire bill came to $34 with tip, which ain't too shabby considering we both got two meals out of the deal. Good meals.

After dinner, we drove over to Chris's place to spend the rest of our night, and all of our loose change, playing five-cent craps. I had a few really nice long rolls at the beginning, but I ended up losing the contents of my wallet and change jar, while Rob managed to make his single dollar buy-in last all night long. Bastard.

Notice the rough-hewn Adirondack-style sideboards, and sitting down to play craps gives the whole experience an El Cortez-like vibe. Well, that and the fact we were drinking cheapass beer.

It was a pretty good time, almost like a party atmosphere because there were about ten people there at one point. I even did a shot of Southern Comfort and Lime juice with the chick whose boobs are featured at the top of the post. I have no idea who she was--I just met her that night.

We didn't give Chris any of our leftover pizza, but he said he was hungry for melons, instead.

As far as the SoCo and Lime goes, it wasn't a bad shot. I've had worse. And it sure as hell tasted better than the skunky canned Miller Lite that Rob had dug up from the bowels of our fridge and brought along. Oh my god it was awful.

Imagine a crappy tasting beer in a glass, then up the ante by going down to your basement, finding a damp and moldy piece of cardboard, and then putting a chunk of it in the glass of beer overnight. 24 hours later, remove it and eat the cardboard. That's what the beer tasted like. It was so bad that I couldn't even finish ONE of them.

But since we were having a good time, and doing occasional shots, we ended up staying way too late. I think it was like 3:45 in the morning before we took off and headed for home. Of course we stayed up and watched the previous evening's Jeopardy episode that we'd recorded, but after that, I went to bed, while Rob stayed up till well past dawn farting around watching TV and YouTube and such.

Because of that, we didn't do the donut taste test yesterday morning. Hell, I didn't get out of bed until 1:00 in the afternoon, and I didn't even see Rob until 4:30.

Maybe if I get some sleep, I'll be motivated to go down and fetch some donuts later this morning. We shall see.

Mikey

Mah Prezentz... Let Me Show You Them!

Wow--the gifts just keep on coming!

I'm fairly certain that the UPS man is pretty tired of coming to my house, especially after today's delivery--it's been FIVE days in a row that I've gotten packages delivered, and today I scored the mother lode. It must be the holidays--everyone is feeling so generous!

I was just chillin' in the living room this afternoon and decided to go outside and see how cold it was, and when I did, I saw another UPS delivery noticed stuck to my front door. Instead of having to go down to the office to pick them up, it said "Look on your patio". So I did, and sitting there were three large Amazon boxes addressed to your humble correspondent.

So I went back inside and opened the patio door to bring in the stuff, and two of the boxes weighed a frickin' ton. But I managed to wrestle them into the living room, thankful that the driver left them on my patio instead of making me walk down to the office and then needing to borrow a hand-truck from the maintenance guy to get them home.

Inside of the three boxes were various items, formerly on my Amazon Wish List.

First of all the, heaviest box was a 119-piece tool set. Wow--I was blown away when I opened that. Not only did it have damn near every tool I could ever imagine (drill bits, screw heads, hand tools, a level, tape measure, etc etc etc, but it also came with a nifty canvas carry bag. My deepest and most sincere thanks goes out to reader 'Lawrence' in Oregon for sending such a thoughtful and useful gift, and I also got a chuckle from the note he included. I guess he felt inspired by the Santa Claus butt-crack picture I posted a few days back.

So I sat there like a typical dude, fondling all the tools and imagining all the stuff around the house that I could break and then fix again. I was lost in my own little tool-time world for a few minutes before I realized that I still had two more boxes to open. And I didn't have to use my little two-inch pocketknife either--I now had a brand spankin' new utility knife at my disposal.

The next box was also a hefty one, and it revealed itself to be a huge 12-inch cast iron Lodge skillet. Well, I guess it's more of a frying pan--it's got the deep sides for frying chicken or even making a casserole in the oven if I wanted to. I'm guessing it's probably also bullet-proof and if I were a cartoon character, I could also use it to hit people over the head and they'd suffer no lasting damage. (Hmmm... maybe I should take it to work and try it...)

The third box had all kinds of cool stuff. Included was a cookbook, the Rock Star dvd, and a new set of dishes that matches my current set--so now we have more than four matching plates and bowls. Woot!

Those last two boxes came from my sister Cyndi, whose done a blitz of Christmas shopping this week. So I had another excuse to call and laugh it up with my Tennessee people.

Here are a couple of pictures of this week's haul:

The macro-view, almost like Christmas morning.

And here's my close-up, Mr. DeMille

Rob came out of his hole a little while later and basically freaked out when he saw all of my toys. He too was a little turned on by the tool kit and the iron skillet. The dishes and cookbook, not so much.

Anyhow, we goofed off around the house for a couple of hours before heading out to dinner at Guadalajara. I'll leave the full review to Rob, and eventually you'll want to make your way over to The Flying Winnebago to read about it and see the pictures. As of right now, it's not up yet. Instead of updating his website, he's lying on the couch reading my new 'Uncyclopedia' from ESPN, entitled 23 Ways to Get to First Base. (He thinks it's a dating handbook, so it may be awhile...)

That's about it from here, but I've got a couple more posts to put up at some point later today.

Mikey

The Four Days of Almost Christmas

Well, I'm sitting here killing time until 8:00 when we head out for dinner at Amore's, listening to my brand-new Tommy Shaw CD that arrived yesterday. Even though it's 20+ years old, it still holds up. I also got my ESPN 'Uncyclopedia' at the same time, and I spent a good portion of the afternoon stumping Rob with obscure sports trivia.

But while we were sitting there in the living room, the doorbell rang, and it was the UPS man for the fourth day in a row!

It seems that somebody else has jumped on my wish-list bandwagon and sent along a nice gift from Amazon. This time it was the person who started the Fleetwood Mac avalanche last week, so he included a tongue-in-cheek apology and a nice note. As far as the gift goes, I scored a new electric beard trimmer, which was quite thoughtful since I burned out the motor on my old one about a month ago. I've just been using scissors ever since, so I don't think I've been the most symmetrical fellow in the world these past few weeks. Luckily, everyone else has been too kind to notice.

Thanks very much, Benji--I appreciate it!

Rob, of course, gave me a look like, WTF? and all I could say was, well, five years of blogging has finally started to pay off. It's come a long way since that first year when I had 10 readers a week, and most of them shared the same last name with me.

Now I'm getting over 450 visits per day, occasional hits to the tip jar, and random gifts from my wish list. That's pretty damn cool.

Thanks for sticking with me, everyone--I'm doing my best to make it worth the click. Speaking of, I've got a casino-centric post that should go up tomorrow, maybe Thursday morning at the latest. There may be a good old-fashioned rant posted up, too.

I've also got to come up with some way to mess with Rob, since he's all giddy that his Ohio State Suckeyes have backed into the BCS championship game, while Arizona State stumbled into the Holiday Bowl.

Oh well, I'm sure I'll think of something. If I were more technically savvy, I'd steal his phone and re-program it to play the Michigan fight song whenever it rang.

The Foodie 'Weekend'

It looks like I'm in for a pretty damn good weekend now that I've come to the end of my workweek. First of all, it was dead slow again last night, so I got out after just a few hours. I know, I've told myself that I'm not taking early outs anymore, but, 1) we made decent money these past few weeks, so the paycheck will be a little better, and 2) I was scheduled on some truly god-awful games last night and had absolutely no desire to be there at work dealing to the bottom-feeders at the $5 blackjack tables.

So I went to bed early last night (before midnight), and now I'm wide awake--no coffee needed.

My plan for the day is to make a few posts here on the website, maybe catch up on some sleep, run a few errands, do a few chores, and then once Rob gets home, we'll catch up on our Jeopardy episodes--I think we have three or four on the DVR as I type this.

But then, later this evening, we're heading over to Amore's Pizza out on the west side to try some authentic Chicago-style deep dish pizza. Of course, I'm a true-blue koolaid-drinking fanatic when it comes to thin-crust NY-style pizza, and haven't had the thick stuff in over ten years. So it will be a nice change of pace. Rob raves about it, and has eaten there a few times over the past couple of months, so I'm going to give it a try. I'm sure it will be great, but comparing it to NY-style isn't a valid comparison. Grimaldi's is still my first love, and as good as I'm imagining Amore's will be, it would be like choosing between Shannon Elizabeth or Jaime Pressley. Both, I'm sure, are quite tasty, but I still have my favorite.

Anyhow, I think the plan is that we eat there for dinner and then head over to his old roommate's place for some 5-cent craps and cheap beer until the wee hours.

Who says you need a lot of money to have a good time in Vegas?

Tomorrow morning, I'll probably trek over to Silverado Ranch and hit the new Dunkin' Donuts for a box of 'police Wheaties'. As good as I used to think Krispy Kremes were, I think Dunkin' makes a better donut. Maybe I'll pick up a box of both (we have both outlets close by) and we'll do a side-by-side taste test. I know that DD is famous for their coffee, but I've had it before, and yeah it's better than Starbucks (actually, pretty much any coffee is better than Starbucks) but nothing comes close to the stuff I brew here at the house. Don Fransisco is the reigning champion of coffee and nothing I've tried has even challenged him for java supremacy. Not even Tim Horton, who all the Canadians rave about.

Anyhow, if Rob is up and lurking about the house in the morning, we'll have a donut taste test and post pics.

The plan for Wednesday night is to have dinner at a local Mexican joint called Guadalajara. I've never eaten there, but Rob has a gift certificate and the menu looks pretty damn good, so we're going to give that a try. As always, I'll try and post a review.

That should pretty much do it, as far as grub is concerned, for the next couple of days. Then it's back to toast and coffee in the mornings and dinner a la employee dining room. But word around the campfire is that Dougie will be in town next week, and we're shooting for a day of poker and Grimaldi's pizza while he's here.

Stay tuned.

Mikey

Since Everyone Is Curious...

Here is a picture of our cocktail waitresses' Naughty Santa outfits that I love so much:



Nice, huh?

If they sold that on Amazon, you know that shiat would already be at the top of my Wish List. (Hot brunette waitress from Ohio not included, sadly...But she's on my Wish List, too!)

Anyhow, since I can't really be sitting at my table snapping pictures while I'm working, and I don't think it'd go over too well if I put those same pictures out on the internet anyways, I found a suitable picture out in cyberspace. But I was talking to my favorite waitress last night while sitting on a dead table, and she told me about a website or two that sold these outfits, so now I can share a pic with my readers.

Actually, the ones our waitresses wear around the casino are just a touch different--the fur goes all the way around the back on top, the bustline plunges just a bit in front to show off the girls, and the hemline has a little curved 'up-cut' on the outside of the thighs to show just a bit more leg. Otherwise, they're identical to the outfits that distract me so much when I'm trying to deal a game.

Oh, and most of our waitresses don't wear the Santa hats, but they all wear high-heeled black go-go boots. Makes it tough to pay attention to what I'm doing sometimes. As far as I'm concerned, *this* is the reason that they call it 'the most wonderful time of the year'.

I was sitting in the breakroom having dinner with one of the other waitresses on Friday night, and she told me that these outfits are her money-maker. She said that every time she wears it, she makes twice as much in tips as she normally would. Of course, all I could do was sit there and stammer and try not to spill food on my shirt.

Smooth, baby. That's me.

Mikey

Best Readers Ever!

I must've been a very good boy this year, because it appears that Santa came early to Casa de Mikey. When Falcon Rob was heading out the door and rubbing it in my face that his evening was going to consist of eating Chicago deep-dish pizza at Amore's and then going to a hockey game, while I was eating leftover beans & weenies and preparing to spend the night at work, he noticed that there was a note attached to our front door from the UPS man.

Apparently, there were two boxes waiting for us to claim down at the office. So I put on some shoes and a hoodie and headed down there to see what we got, while Rob took off for an evening of buffoonery.

First bonus, both parcels were addressed to me--Heh! Not noticing the return address right away, I figured that one of them was a coffee can full of Mamasan'ts Christmas peanut butter balls. That was just a guess, but I had no idea what was in either box.

So, once I got home, I pulled out my handy dandy two-inch pocketknife which serves no other purpose than to open shipping boxes.

Holy shiat, I was shocked! I got two presents from two different loyal readers--both gifts from my Amazon Wish List. The first was that skull and crossbones beach towel that I just put up there the other day, but somebody was Johnny-on-the-spot and immediately launched it in my direction. Now I'll be the coolest guy at the hot tub! Usually, I'm the only guy at the hot tub when I go, but now my coolness is validated.

The second box, (the heavy one), blew me away. Somebody was feeling very generous and sent me the Altec-Lansing In-Motion iPod docking speakers that I've been wanting for almost a year now.

Wow.

I couldn't believe it when I opened the box, and I sat there in stunned silence for a minute or two letting it sink in. That was unbelievably nice.

There was also a nice personal note included in each package that really made my day, too.

Thank you so much, guys! Later tonight when I get home from work, I'm going to spike some eggnog and raise a glass to both of you. I hope you both have a wonderful Christmas!

Once the realization set in, it was time to get down to business. The first thing I did was put the towel in the laundry to soften it up and get rid of the 'new' smell, and then I sat down with the instruction manual for the iPod dock.

It's a pretty simple device, but it came with a box full of every known electrical adapter in the world. Seriously, I never knew how many different AC outlets there were in the world. But the best feature is that it charges my iPod while it plays, so I don't have to use the one in my truck all the time (and the one that hooks up to the computer is a pain in the ass to use, you can't just plug it and unplug it--you've got to jump through a bunch of hoops). So it's very useful. And I started listening to my all-Jimmy Buffett playlist as soon as I got it hooked up. It sounds excellent!

Even better is that it will come in handy when traveling, or whenever I'm staying down on the Strip. Back in the days when I was seeing Sticky, she'd bring hers along when she came to town, and we'd leave it on all night long, playing stuff like Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, and Sinatra for background music. Oh, and it'll also work great for Angy's party in March, since I'm collecting every cool and cheesy party song I can find between now and then.

Oh yes, there will be much disco on display.

But right now, I'm listening to my Christmas playlist and getting into a festive holiday mood. Even if there were no peanut butter balls in either box.

Thanks again, guys.

Mikey

Rainy Day Women

Happy Friday everyone! Right now, here in America's Playground where the sun always shines, it's cloudy, gray, cold, and rainy. It's the kind of day where you don't want to do anything but eat soup and grilled cheese, curl up under a blanket, and read a book. Seriously, I woke up today and thought I was back in Nashville.

Notice I said woke up today, not this morning. I was literally the last man standing on my shift last night, not punching out until sometime after 3:00 am. So by the time I got home, I was good and tired, and I slept until just after noon--awakened by the sound of the rain.

I'd had a fairly easy shift, dealing Pai Gow and blackjack all night. But I got back from break at 2:00 am, went to a table, closed it, and then they moved me to dice. The game had three players on it, but quickly went dead. And the rotation worked out that I had to go over to the 'Reserved' game and stand on it by myself for 40 minutes while everyone else got to go home a half hour early. That kinda sucked.

Anyhow, from 2:20 until 3:00, I was the lone guy standing post on that game out in no-man's-land, feeling like I was in Time Out.

With no other dealers or players to talk to, and no cocktail waitresses coming by, it's a looooong forty minutes to just have to stand there doing nothing. Luckily I'd already dropped my share of tokes earlier in the evening, so even though I wasn't making any money for us during my last hour, I'm sure I dropped more than the dealer average for the night, so I wasn't too much of a burden on my fellow dealers.

Anyhow, there's nothing much else going on around here, and the only news is that yesterday I finally got my oil changed and my tire fixed, so that little chore is behind me.

Y'all have a great weekend--hopefully we'll have some stories for you on Monday.

Mikey

Thinking Dirty Thoughts...

...about PIZZA.

Yep, here I am, lying in bed, unable to sleep, with a hard-drive full of quality pr0n, and all I can think about it how damn good dinner was a few hours ago.

Rob and I hooked up with 'Lars Vegas' over at Grimaldi's last night, and the second visit was every bit as spectacular as the first. I can still say it with supreme confidence--Grimaldi's is far and away the best pizza I've ever eaten. There just aren't enough superlatives in my thesaurus to do a decent job of relating the culinary awesomeness that we experienced.

I went with pepperoni and Italian sausage this time around, Lars had sausage and onion, and Rob went with ham and onion. All three were amazingly good.

The crust--perfect. Who knew that something so simple could be so wonderful? The sauce--if tomatoes have feelings, the ones that get sent to the Ragu jars have *got* to be bitterly jealous. Only the best and brightest land on a Grimaldi's pie. The cheese--Oh dear God if you've never had fresh-made buffalo mozzarella, you have no idea what you're missing. The slightly smoky/buttery combination is a taste you simply have to experience at some point before you depart this mortal coil, especially when it's paired up with such heavenly ingredients as we were privy to.

Did I mention the fresh basil?

I could go on and on, but I'm sure I sound like a huge enough dork already.

I think Rob summed it up best, about three hours after we'd finished dinner, when he verbalized what we were all still thinking about. Twelve inch pie, Sixteen inch pie, Eighteen incher--it doesn't matter how big of a pizza they set in front of me. I will eat the whole thing!

And he was right. I killed that entire sixteen incher in front of me like a hungry shark tearing into a fur seal, and stopped just short of licking the pan.

Grimaldi's is that good. I'm not exaggerating one bit.

Once we ran out of pizza and settled the tab, we headed off to relax with fine cigars and adult beverages. We ended up out on the back patio at Chilly Palmer's, enjoying the outdoor fireplace and space heaters that took the edge off of the cold night. Lars worked on emptying their stocks of good single-barrel Scotch, Rob kept the bartender busy making Black & Tans, and I made sure that none of the rum they had on hand would go stale. We also smoked six cigars between us, one of mine being a Cuban Monte Cristo that put a smile on my face that lasted longer than the one I was sporting that night I spent a half-hour in the VIP room at the Palamino Club with that smokin' hot Asian gal.

Basically, me and my boys were living the Good Life, if only for a few hours.

Good food, good booze, good company, and good conversation--it just doesn't get much better than that. And it was just what I needed. It felt like I'd crammed a weeks vacation into just a few hours.

I can't wait to do it again.

The plans have been laid. The next time around will feature rib eyes on the grill, more cigars from that Worker's Paradise just south of Key West, and a bottle of Scotch that's old enough to vote.

Some days it's good to be Mikey. This was one of those days.

Hump Day Afternoon

It's 4:20 here on a chilly Vegas afternoon, and I'm not doing much but lying in bed under my sleeping bag, wearing a flannel shirt for warmth. Rob and I are seeing how long we can go without turning on the heat. Not that we can't afford it, we just don't want to pay for heat. It's the principle of the thing, living in the desert and all. He's not cold at all, in fact, days like today are considered balmy spring days back in Ohio, so he's fine. But my thin desert blood has turned me into a puss.

I ended up going out to Ellis Island after all last night. About a half hour after I posted that last update, my phone rang and it was reader Chris, also known as PHU-KNA over on T2V (and I just figured out what that meant after two years...) Anyhow, he was still up for getting together, so around 6:15 or so last night I headed towards the Strip. I got about halfway there before I realized that I'd hit the trifecta of absentmindedness by driving off and leaving my camera, cigars, and POV coupon for an hours worth of free beers sitting on the counter. Doh!

I got there first, and was starving, so I grabbed two slices of pepperoni from the Metro outlet there by the bar, and ordered what was easily the worst microbrew I've ever had. It took me about four sips to figure out that it was probably the most bitter Amber I'd ever tasted. Yuck. So I went with a glass of the home-brewed root beer instead. That was a little better.

I ended up running into a co-worker who was also there on her night off, so I was talking to her when Chris and his buddy Jay showed up. We then headed to the bar for a couple hours of cocktails and storytelling, staying just until they started up with the Karaoke. I was ready to head home, but they wanted to get some dinner, and insisted that I join them for some BBQ. I hadn't eaten there in over two years, but damn, those ribs were still fantastic. The corn on the cob was excellent, the beans kinda blah, and the coleslaw was about average. But the ribs--damn, I ate an entire rack!

We sat there eating and laughing it up till after 11:00 pm, and they invited me to join them downtown, but I'm trying to be good and not spend my limited funds frivolously, so as much as it pained me, I declined. But damn, I could've used a night of drunken downtown buffoonery... Instead, I headed back to my house and daydreamed about the epic three-hour craps roll that broke the house at Binion's that I was sure I was missing out on, and went to bed shortly thereafter. I still had a great time, I just didn't pull an all-nighter, that's all.

Today, I did nothing productive. I didn't go to the bank, didn't run any errands, didn't answer any emails, didn't do laundry, nothing. I was a complete bum.

And I loved every minute of it.

I've got to hop in the shower in a bit and get ready to go out again tonight. I'm meeting up with 'Lars Vegas' for dinner over at Grimaldi's (and as soon as I mentioned that to Rob, he was like HELL YEAH I'M GOING!), and then afterwards we're gonna hole up somewhere for drinks and cigars for the rest of the evening. I know that my favorite watering hole has a back patio with a fireplace, so we'll probably end up there.

Y'all have a good one. Catch ya tomorrow.

Mikey

PS--Happy Birthday to Cyndi!

PPS -- Thanks to Tony from Ohio, I now have an mp3 copy of that 'Sara' song on my hard drive. Awesome.

Reason #572 Why I Love Having a Laptop

... Because when I get tired of sitting at my desk staring at the same spot on the wall, I can unplug the thing and go lay on my bed and still use the internet. Yep, we have a secure wireless network here at the house, too, so in addition to *not* having to run a blue ethernet cable down the hallway to Rob's room, I can be a lazy bum and blog from my unmade bed. It's my day off, after six long days of being in the casino, so I feel justified. And I also have an optical mouse, so I don't need a flat surface or a mousepad--I can just run it across my comforter and it works just fine.

Man, it's been a long time since the days of AOL keywords and a 28.8 modem.

So, what's new today?

Well, in addition to being my day off, I'm having a great day. I found some extra cash in my tip jar (thanks much, whoever you anonymous donors are), and while I was going through the mail I got a check from 'Shareowner Services' for eighty bucks. It seems that Station Casinos has now gone private, and all outstanding stock was sold at the offering price of $90 per share last month. I had a fractional share due to a bunch of dividend reinvestment from a few years back just sitting in an account that I'd forgotten about. I thought the letter was just more junk mail/corporate propaganda, and it's been sitting on my desk unopened for two weeks. So it was a nice surprise.

Of course, not all is sunshine and balloons here at Casa de Mikey. I was rudely awakened at 8:00 by what I thought was a Mexican with a leaf blower right outside my window. But the thing didn't change pitch or switch off for three frickin' hours! It was just a loud constant drone, like an airplane engine. I finally gave up on trying to sleep and took out the trash just to see what the hell was going on. I guess that somebody nearby had moved out, and they parked a truck with a huge industrial steam cleaner right outside of my door. Apparently, their carpets were pretty shiatty, because they ran that thing all morning long.

What was even worse is that our internet service was also down this morning, and I got to spend a half hour or so talking to the robot that does tech support at Cox. It finally started working, but damn, it's never a quick call to the cable company.

Once that ordeal was over and the steam cleaner finally got shut down, I decided to make a pot of coffee and cook some breakfast. I made southern-style biscuits and gravy, and I have to say, this was easily my best batch ever! The gravy turned out perfect--and it didn't get all thick and gooey as it sat in the pan. I think the secret was mixing the flour and milk separately before adding it to the sausage and melted butter. And I added about a quarter cup of water to the mix and that made all the difference--it didn't harden up like tile grout when I was done. Good stuff!

Word around the campfire is that I'm supposed to meet one of my readers over at Ellis Island today for a few drinks and maybe a cigar. Unfortunately, he has my number but I don't have his. So I have no idea when or even if we're going to meet up--we haven't touched base in a week. And I hate sitting around waiting, because I know how it goes when people come to Vegas. Plans get made, but Vegas sometimes gets in the way and the best laid plans go out the window. Since I haven't heard anything by now, I'm guessing that I'm probably not gonna be sampling the smoky ambiance of Ellis Island today, after all.

Tomorrow night, however, is gonna be a good one. Dinner at Grimaldi's, followed by cigars and booze. Can't beat that.

Mikey