Oh, That's Right...

Now I remember why the rest of the world hates Mondays. First of all, it's only 9:30 in the morning, when I *should* be sleeping, but of course there are a few maintenance guys outside my building with their leaf blowers doing a wonderful job of pushing the leaves around. And there is some other jackass sitting out in the parking lot a few buildings down honking his horn over and over again trying to get somebody to come outside. No, it's not the programmed honking of a car alarm, it's a one-note symphony of frustration that he keeps repeating. Nice.

And since I can't sleep, I thought I'd get up, make a pot of coffee (check), take the laptop out to the living room (check), and do some writing/surfing/blogging while watching SportsCenter from last night. Well, I found out that I can *watch* tv, I just can't hear it. Something is amiss in our surround sound system, and there is no signal reaching the speaker output. Oh, the speakers are fine--the test tone is working, and it plays dvds and cds just dandy. But TV audio seems to be out of the question. That is extremely frustrating, and before I go and push too many buttons, I'll have to have Falcon Rob take a look at it--it's his system, after all. But he's still asleep, although I'm sure he'll be getting up soon as he has to got to work in an hour or so.

Otherwise, no TV today. I can't even watch anything that I've recorded on the DVR--no sound there, either. That pisses me off.

I can still watch the regular non-HD tv, but there is no digital cable involved, so the channel selection is limited, along with the fact that I can't watch all the stuff on my DVR list. Just last night I recorded March of the Penguins, having never seen it before, and was hoping to catch it this afternoon. Not gonna happen unless Rob works his mojo on the system before he leaves for the casino.

I guess, on the plus side, if there is no sound available, I won't watch a bit of TV today and will get all kinds of stuff done. I have a huge pile of clean laundry sitting at the foot of my bed that needs to be folded/hung/put away, my desk could use a little bit of cleaning and organizing, and I need to work on a spreadsheet to track my tokes this year.

For the past two years, I've written down my tokes in a pocket calendar that I've carried around with me, but that is a hassle--it seems to fall out of my pocket every night at some point, either in the pit, in the dining room, or even worse--in the can. And I could only look at one week at a time--not the easiest for comparison or tracking purposes. So I made a point *not* to buy another pocket calendar this year, and I've been writing down my tokes on post-it notes and carrying them around in my wallet for two weeks. Today I'm going to finally get the spreadsheet done so I can see exactly what I'm making every week versus what I give up by taking an hour early out here and there.

The casino biz has slowed waaaay down in the past year. None of the dealers in Vegas, no matter where they work, made as much in 2007 as they did in 2006. My earnings were down about $3500 for the year, and I'm *sure* that at least a thousand of that was due to taking off an hour or two early every other Monday. If I'm tracking it every day, and seeing on a weekly basis what I'm leaving on the table, it'll be much easier to say no when the bosses come around late at night asking me if I want to go home.

Last night, for example, was so frickin' slow in the casino, it was like working in a library in a town full of illiterates. I only had one player after midnight, and my last hour and a half I sat on a completely dead table, staring off into space. What made it even worse is that my game faced away from the bar and the rest of the pit, so I didn't have a TV or any people to watch. And since the games on either side of me were already closed, I was out in No Man's Land. And because there were no players nearby, even the cocktail waitresses wouldn't walk over. It was like being in solitary confinement, except that instead of bare gray walls to stare at, I had flashing neon lights from the empty slot machines.

And the boss in charge of the roadmap wouldn't close any of the games on my string, either, so I sat there for an hour straight, alone with my thoughts. The only actual work I did during those last two hours was help close a reserved dice table. But then again, it only took me about three minutes to count down $279,000 worth of gaming chips, get it verified, and then screw down and lock the lid. After that, there was nothing left to do, so I hung out by the time clock for ten minutes or so waiting until my last hour was "official" before heading out the door.

Have I mentioned that it's still freezing-ass cold here in Vegas? Well, when I got off the elevator on the top floor of the parking garage, I turned the corner and got hit full-on with a 25-mph blast of icy cold air. "Blustery" was the only word I can use to describe it. And while I know we've got nothing on those hearty souls in Green Bay and Chicago, it is pure misery for us thin-blooded desert-dwellers. Seriously, this below-freezing nonsense has just got to stop at some point. Global warming, my frigid white ass... And the wind was so bad that it was blowing my truck all over the road on the way home.

But I made it back to the apartment without incident, and hustled inside as quickly as I could. After a hot shower, I went straight to bed, curled up under a comforter and my sleeping bag.

Apparently, sitting around and doing nothing all night just drained me.

Mikey


UPDATE:

The digital demons have been exorcised from the surround sound system. A 20-minute call to Cox Tech Support, where I ended up unplugging the HD box and rebooting it twice seems to have been all we needed to do. Yay, sound!

Is It Monday Already?

I swear, I'm one of the few people on the planet who actually looks forward to Mondays. But since it means that I have the next two days off, I don't feel too weird about it.

This past weekend has felt extremely busy, however, so I'm looking forward to the break. Friday was a huge clusterf*ck. Never made it to the Peppermill for breakfast. I was out doing all of my errands, after getting just a couple hours of sleep, and the plan was to meet up for breakfast around 9:30 or so. But, with Angy, it's always like the circus coming to town, and I didn't hear from her till after eleven, and by that time I was done with everything and back home in Henderson, so I gave up and took a pass. Still fighting off the remnants of the bug that laid me out last week, I opted to stay home and get some sleep.

Off course, we were busier than hell at work all weekend, which wore me out, too. I literally slept all day on Saturday, not waking up until 4:30 in the afternoon, giving me about an hour to enjoy the day before heading back in. But it was just what I needed. I've felt great ever since then.

I was a bit bummed out this weekend, missing out on all the buffoonery back in Tennessee. It was Reverend Dave's 38th birthday, and there was a helluva party going on in Nashville that sounded like a lot of laughs. I got a couple of phone calls in the middle of the action that had me wishing I was there. Oh well, somebody had to deal all those Pai Gow games...

On the plus side, I totally forgot to hit the sports book on Saturday night to make my bets on Sunday's action, which is a good thing, since I was going to take both favorites. Heh. Talk about dodging a bullet! I guess the Super Bowl is going to be the winter version of the Sox smacking down the Yankees, and since Green Bay totally screwed the pooch, I'm gonna root for the Patriots to go 19-0 and hopefully we'll never hear from those douchebags from Miami ever again.

Seriously, right now, is there a bigger dumbass on the planet than Mercury Morris?

Anyhow. I wish I had more to write about, but there just ain't much going on around here lately. Life is dull, and is probably gonna remain so for the next couple of weeks.

Later,

Mikey

Waiting for the Spin Cycle

Good morning everyone--Happy Friday! I'm up late after a long night at the casino. I've got a long day ahead of me, and have to be up early, but the laundry monster was climbing the wall and demanding my attention.

First of all--it was a tough night at work. When I got back in after my four-day hiatus, I saw that I was scheduled to deal three Pai Gow games. Score!

But wait, just like a deal with the devil, there is bad that goes along with the good. First of all, one of the games was the $5 table, which *everyone* hates, and of course, one of our most annoying fleas was sitting there at seat seven. At least the rotation was set so that I didn't have to go to that table until my second hour. But even worse--on my first table was one player. The *one* flea I cannot stand. I mentioned him earlier--he's the one who takes shots at the game every time, never tips, and is there almost every night that every dealer hates. Yep, that was how my workweek started. Ugh.

But the gambling gods were on my side, and I just absolutely crushed him again. I gotta admit--I generally root for about 90% of the players who sit down at my table, but obliterating this guy's bankroll is always a special kind of satisfaction--on par with taking a nice comfortable dump after a three-day camping trip.

And for whatever reason, once I got back to the casino, my cough tried to make an encore appearance, but I'd brought along my Zicam pocket spray to kill it. It was tough--I wasn't feeling well, but I endured. Turns out that about ten other dealers were out sick this past weekend, too. And this past Monday that I missed? Tokes were only about $80 that night--so it was much better that I called in.

Once tables started closing down, I had to do a couple of rounds of blackjack. Unfortunately, it was on a couple of $5 games, and of course they were all populated by total douchebags. That's when I went into my 'dummy up and deal' mode and started dealing at 110% of my regular full speed and found that extra gear, hoping that the house edge would get to them a little quicker. One asshat insisted on taking down his bet and his winnings on every hand, trying to slow the game down, waiting a minute and then putting his bet back up again (most people just leave their original bet up and either keep it the same or add to it for the next hand). So if there wasn't a bet in the circle by the time I was ready to start the next hand, I'd just skip him, which I could tell just irritated the hell out of him. I told him to just take the winnings down if he wasn't varying his bet amount, but he wouldn't listen, so I just blew by him. Heh.

Sometimes it's more fun to piss 'em off than to take their money.

As bad as those tables were, I actually had one very enjoyable hour. Late in the evening, I started my second go-round on the $5 Pai Gow game to an empty table. That's always nice! But a few minutes later, a kind of attractive gal came walking by, shocked that there was such a thing as five-dollar pai gow. She even asked if we could get a game going if she was the only player. Of course I told her we could.

She bought in for a hundred and we were having a pleasant conversation and a few laughs. She started winning a few hands, and then asked me how she could bet for me. I told her to just put my bet right in front of her bet. She commented on how the casino should mark an area for a dealers bet to make it easier, but I just gave her my standard line-- Well, since it's one of the best bets you can possibly make, just like taking odds at the dice table, the casino never marks it on the table! (But if there's a sucker bet available, you can be sure it's marked in bright red ink on the felt). She laughed, and instead of just putting me up for a buck, she matched her bet--whatever she was betting, that's what I was betting. Luckily she did well and not only did I have a wonderful hour of conversation with an attractive gal, I dropped a whole bunch of money in the toke box, too.

When I got tapped out to go on break, she colored up and moved on. I didn't see her again for a bit--she'd gone to grab a bite to eat, but stopped by my next table later on to say goodnight and make sure I was working again tomorrow night. Makes me wish I would've gone ahead and had a bunch of Hurricane Mikey business cards printed back when I had all those t-shirts made! Oh well--it was just one of those encounters that makes going to work in a casino a pleasure.

Eventually, the night wound down and without even asking for it, I got the half-hour early push. That was a nice way to end the evening. I'm still not at 100% strength, so getting off of the blackjack table early was a sweet bonus.

Now I'm home, and although my body is tired, I'm not quite sleepy yet. So I'm puttering around a bit, paying a few bills, planning my day, listening to music. While I was sick, I pretty much kept the computer on the nightstand and used it while lying in bed. But this morning, I put it back on my desk where it belongs, hard-wired it back into the network, and plugged my surround-sound speakers and subwoofer back in. And the first thing I did was listen to that 'Candyman' song the way it was supposed to be heard. Damn, what a great song! That's one of those songs that I listen to and just shake my head and marvel at the unbelievable talent that went into creating something so enjoyable. It's like looking up at the stars on a clear night and feeling insignificant--I listen to that music and realize that as much as I'd like to be a musician, I'll never be more than a hack with a guitar. Some people just have it, and they provide entertainment to those of us who don't.

I've also done a bit of websurfing this morning. Falcon Rob posted about his killer minestrone. And I'm not lying when I say it's the best I've ever had, either. But he takes a shot at me for calling it Super Colon Blow. And he's right--I don't eat nearly as much zucchini or cabbage as he does. But I eat much more p*ssy than him, so I guess the edge goes to Mikey... Heh.

And somebody out there is just killin' me with her nacho bloggin' and deep dish pizza bloggin' as of late. You think my posts get you hungry, hers are just as bad. And she actually cooks the stuff she talks about, instead of just wishing she had a proper pan. Well, I will admit, I made nachos for a late-night snack on Wednesday night. But I usually make mine meatless. Not that I'm going all hippie on you guys, but meatless nachos are the lazy man's way--chips, salsa, cheese, oven. Simple!

Oh well, enough about all that. I've got to get up in less than four hours, so I should wrap this up. But just to tease you guys, I'll let you know that I'm having breakfast at the Peppermill with two of my favorite ladies.

Chicken fried steak and two sets of boobies--It just don't get much better than that!

Mikey

Overgrown

I just couldn't take it any more--five days was too much! Since I was ill earlier in the week, and these past two days have been my normal days off, I haven't left the house since Sunday. Hell, I didn't even go outside until yesterday, just to see how cold it was (yeah, it was cold). Well, you know what happens when I've got that much time on my hands with no place to go--personal hygiene goes out the window.

Not that I've been lying around in my own filth--I've taken two or three long hot steam-inducing showers every day. But since I haven't had to make any public appearances, my razor has remained unused since last Saturday. Yep, I was beginning to look a lot like the missing link. It really started to irritate me yesterday afternoon, but of course I did nothing about it. And last night when I got in the shower, I considered shaving, but my inherent laziness won that battle. But this morning, around 6:30 or so, I woke up and it was bothering me, so I finally did something about it.

Now my head is as smooth as a supermodel's butt, I tell ya. And it also cuts about ten minutes off of my getting-ready-for-work time later this evening, now that I don't have to shave again until tomorrow.

Yes, it's back to the casino tonight for Mikey--I'm actually looking forward to it. Hanging around the house for almost a week straight watching HGTV is starting to get on my nerves. Seriously, why does every host on every program have to act like such an asshat? There's a fine line between enthusiasm and stupidity, and most of them don't seem to recognize it.

Now that I'm up, it's time to shuffle off to the kitchen and make some breakfast--coffee is out of the question, unless I want to drink it black (yuck!). But I've got plenty of orange juice and milk. And a box of blueberry muffin mix, too. Wait a second... I just remembered--although I don't have any coffee creamer on hand, I *do* have a bottle of Kahlua, and a can of whipped cream somewhere in the back of the fridge... Hmmm...

It's gonna be a good day, Tater!

Mikey

Day Off

Sorry gang, for taking Tuesday off from writing, but I've been totally lazy the past three days. Of course my system is working overtime to kill this bug, so I haven't had a lot of strength, and loading the dishwasher and doing two loads of laundry was about all the motivation I had in me for the past 72 hours.

On the plus side, I went another day without taking any medicine, and 90% of my symptoms have abated, so I'm feeling *much* better. Oh, I'm still a bit sick--I can hear that crap in my lungs when I breathe, but it's breaking up. I'm not coughing at all anymore, don't have a sore throat, and my sinuses have been clear for about a day and a half. The sinus pressure has moved from the 'south side' below my eyes, up north so that I have a slight sinus headache localized behind my eyebrows. It only hurts when I wrinkle my forehead. So I'm definitely on the mend and luckily won't be missing any more work.

Still, I'm not feeling well enough to go our running around or do any grocery shopping, so I didn't do any creative cookery yesterday. I still have half of my cornbread left, and Rob is teasing me with making another batch of super colon blow minestrone, but the cornbread will be long gone before that batch of soup gets made. And now I'm out of cornmeal mix, too. Yesterday, I made some blueberry pancakes and link sausage, along with a pot of coffee. That pretty much held me over all day--dinner consisted of the last bit of that smoky mystery Hickory Farms cheese and a handful of crackers.

But I need to go grocery shopping--I'm running out of all kinds of stuff. I just used the last bit of my flavored coffee creamer yesterday, I have no strawberry preserves, I'm down to my last can of coffee, and while I know it's almost blasphemous to admit, there is not a drop of Captain Morgan to be found anywhere on the premises!

I also still want to do my crab-fest once I feel better--crab rangoon and maybe some stuffed mushrooms too. (And yes, I will post the recipe as soon as I do it). I'm also going to have to bite the bullet and go back to Smith's or Albertson's -- Wallyworld does not sell pre-made dough, and I'm still going to take a shot at deep dish pizza, if only to prove to Rob that Italian sausage and black olive is a viable topping combination. He seems to think it would suck. Seriously--how can you go wrong with a sweet/salty combination like that? It would be as irresistible to the palate as honey-roasted cashews and more fun than dipping french fries in your Frosty. I also want to try some sort of pizza with caramelized onions, perhaps with prosciutto. I think that would *totally* kick ass.

I suppose I could hit Trader Joe's, I've heard they've got decent pre-made dough. Maybe I can get my hands on some good San Marzano tomatoes while I'm there, too.

It might be a couple of weeks before that happens, if only because I'd also have to go out and buy *two* deep dish pizza pans, making the unit cost per pie rather expensive this first go 'round. But after that, assembly line city, baby! If they turn out as good as I think they will, I may have to put deep-dish pizza in the regular rotation, returning grilled ham and cheese to 'lunch only' status.

Damn, I'm getting hungry just typing this. Maybe I should've had something besides cheese and crackers for dinner.

Mikey

Late Night Munchies

Ten Foods I Love, in no particular order after number one:

1) Pizza -- Come on, this was obvious.
2) Chicken Fried Steak -- and not just at the Peppermill, either.
3) Scallops -- Food of the Gods! Especially that Neptune guy.
4) Asian Chicken Salad -- Never had a bad one yet.
5) Bacon -- It makes pretty much everything taste better.
6) Anything with Green Peppers, Onions, and Mushrooms -- Or as I call it, the Vegetable Love Triangle.
7) Pineapples and Cottage Cheese -- Better than French Fries!
8) Carne Asada burritos -- I feel sorry for people that don't have access to them 24/7.
9) Chicken Pad Thai -- Spicy and filling. I start craving it about once a month.
10)Grilled Ribeye steaks -- The best part of the cow.

Ten Things I Refuse to Eat:

1) Salmon -- Makes me gag.
2) Beets -- Tastes like dirt, stains my shirt.
3) Broccoli -- Never acquired the taste. Unless it's in stir fry, then the stalks are ok.
4) Tofu -- Why eat that shiat when there is perfectly good meat available?
5) Liver -- Pretty much the only meat I can't stand.
6) Crunchy Peanut Butter -- I love the smooth, always have. I guess I'd eat it under protest, though.
7) Spam -- Why eat that shiat when there is perfectly good meat available?
8) Meringue -- Egg whites and sugar? Ugh.
9) Oysters -- Tried, and failed, many times.
10)Decaf -- Why bother?


Ten Things I Was Late to the Party With:

1) Ranch Dressing -- I was afraid of buttermilk till I was about 18 years old.
2) Sushi -- Never heard of it until high school, never tried it until college.
3) Thai Food -- It wasn't trendy or available when I was younger.
4) Wasabi Peas -- First time I had them was at the Venetian a couple years ago.
5) Caviar -- It's tough when your brain says "Blackberry Preserves" and your mouth says "Salty Fish Eggs". I'm still not convinced I really like this, yet.
6) Shiraz -- Having never had anything but that god-awful Yellowtail, I never knew that there was good Shiraz available from South Africa.
7) Fresh Basil -- I never knew how good fresh herbs were until I had it on a slice of pizza about six years ago. Life changing experience!
8) A real Martini -- Everyone is afraid of gin, so most people use vodka instead. I didn't know any better, either. But I'm here to tell you that a Bombay Sapphire martini, with a spritz of dry vermouth, garnished with three olives, is a damn fine cocktail.
9) Club crackers -- I'll never buy saltines again.
10) Dark Chocolate -- I never knew that smores could be so good!


Ten Things You'll *Always* Find In My Pantry:

1) Flour Tortillas
2) Honey
3) Peanut Butter
4) Refried Beans
5) Grits
6) Garlic Salt
7) Sun Dried Tomatoes
8) Wheat Bread
9) Jars of red sauce
10)Coffee


Pre-Packaged Foods I Wish They'd Invent:

1) Chex mix with no pretzels

Mikey

On The Mend

Hey gang... feeling much better this evening. Still a ways to go, but compared to yesterday, I feel like a million bucks. My head is still a little stuffy, and my ears pop every now and again, but the coughing fits have subsided for the most part, and sneezing doesn't make me feel like my head is going to explode. And here it is almost 6:30 pm, and I've gone the entire day without taking one bit of medicine. I think I may have 'overmedicated' myself between Saturday and Sunday.

I got lots of rest last night, and around 3:30 in the morning I got up and wandered down to the hot tub. Instead of a nice tropical rum-based concoction, I had a glass of Alka-Seltzer Plus cold medicine, fruit-flavored, of course, so I could at least pretend I was having a good time. But the jacuzzi was just what I needed--I came back home and slept like a rock.

I'm still pretty weak, and don't have a voice, so I called in sick again tonight--I may feel a little better, but just walking around the house takes all of my reserve strength as my system is taking the battle to this bug and is finally beating it back. There is no way I could've stood at a dice table for eight hours tonight. And the financial implications aren't nearly as bad as yesterday's time off--we start a new pay period today, and Mondays are usually pretty light days anyways, so I won't really notice it. But it's gonna be a tight few weeks here. That's ok though, because right now, I really don't feel like doing a damn thing but lying in bed and drinking orange juice. That doesn't cost much.

Now, I don't have a fever or feel nauseous, so this afternoon I was starving, having been living on fluids and cashews for the most part all weekend. So I made a batch of iron-skillet cornbread, complete with a can of diced green chiles for a little more flavor. It turned out great, and I ate two 'pie pieces' worth, smeared with a little melted butter. Believe it or not, I'd never made it before, but it was amazingly simple. My only complaint would be that the chiles were almost too mild--I used the smoky Anaheim variety instead of Jalapeños, which would've been more helpful as far as my sinuses go.

Still, it was damn good. I didn't think about it, but I probably should've made some chili at the same time. I dunno, what else goes good with cornbread? I can't think of anything except for maybe catfish, and I sure as hell ain't makin' that.

But I'm not hungry now, so I guess it's a moot point.

I'm gonna spend the rest of my evening resting, reading a book, and maybe writing a story or two if I can find the inspiration. And strength. Right now, it's kinda tough to keep my eyes open, and I haven't really done much all day. At least I have the next two days off, legitimately, so by the time Thursday rolls around, I should be good to go, playing at full strength.

Mikey

Late Sunday Night Update

First of all, I want to thank everyone for their well-wishes and remedy advice. Unfortunately, I still feel like complete shiat, even worse than I did yesterday. And since I've already spent a small fortune at the drugstore, I'm not buying any more medicine. I already have the most expensive urine in the world, this side of Roger Clemens.

The problem is, once I got home this morning and made that previous post, my condition deteriorated quite a bit. I couldn't lie down without my head getting completely stuffed up, causing me to be a mouth breather. Plus the cough got worse. The only thing that made me feel better was a long steam shower and sitting upright so my sinuses could drain. So I spent the day in the living room watching tv, along with taking three showers (about to do it again, too).

By 9:00 am, I bit the bullet and realized that there was no way I'd ever be able to make it at work tonight, so I called in sick. It's gonna cost me a tidy sum in lost income, but it's my own fault for taking that long E.O. last Monday with Lars. Oh well, lesson learned. But the time off tonight will do me good. I feel like crap. And before I forget, I gotta give a hat tip to Reverend Dave--Those cinnamon Altoids work great, if only temporarily. I was munchin' on them all day while watching football, and they seemed to help.

So, I'm home tonight. I can't believe I'm still awake--I haven't really slept since I got up around 11 am on Saturday morning. I'm sure I'll crash soon, though. I think I may have take a little too much medicine, as I can tell I'm beyond the point of diminishing returns. The cough has been suppressed for a few hours, but my head is picking up the slack as far as making life difficult is concerned.

The only bright spot about feeling so shiatty is that this is as bad as it ever gets. I'm sure I'll feel much better tomorrow.

Mikey

Don't Taze Me, Bro!

My hump day is finally over--and it was all I could do to make it. Yes, I'm still feeling miserable, necessitating another trip to the drugstore after work. I'm sure that a couple of days of rest combined with a liberal dose of the hot tub would work wonders on my system. But there is no rest for the weary, as not only do I have to work the next two nights, I'm scheduled to deal dice both times. Ugh. Not that I don't like dealing dice--it's a nice change of pace, and it beats the hell out of dealing blackjack. But I *know* it's gonna damn near kill me to spend eight hours at the craps table tonight, especially if I'm not feeling any better.

It's a tough way to spend eight hours when you're sick. I'm not looking forward to it at all.

Last night wasn't too bad, though. I was on my favorite string of games again, made a bunch of money for myself and my co-workers, and actually had a few laughs. There was on guy at the Deuces Wild table that everyone seemed to think looked just like Alec Baldwin, and I thought there was a mild resemblance. The table was full, and everyone was cracking jokes and tossing out movie lines and song lyrics the whole time, making the hour fly by.

Anyhow, 'Alec' had been there for about four hours, and it was getting late in the evening, almost towards the end of my shift. He'd switched from drinking Newcastle to just sipping on black coffee. Anyhow, he was at 'first base' on the table, meaning he was first to act. So after I dealt all the cards out, he didn't pick his up right away, and instead took a sip of coffee, forcing the other players to wait for him. No big deal, it was a fun group, but I tossed out the most appropriate movie line I could come up with, going Glengarry Glen Ross on him--

PUT that coffee down! Coffee is for closers!

That caused instant pandemonium at the table--he damn near spit out his drink, and everybody else just cracked up. I guess you had to be there, but it was funny as hell. And I was buried under a cloudburst of tokes as well, as everyone giggled throughout the rest of the hand, repeating the line several times.

There was also some great entertainment early on in the evening. I was the 'relief' dealer on my string, meaning I took the first twenty minute break after assuring that the other three dealers had shown up and were at the proper tables. So I was walking from the pit back to the break room, when I saw some dude come running through the main pit with a couple of cops and security guards chasing him. He made it to the first bank of video poker machines just past the Baccarat tables when a security guard cut him off and tackled him right there on the marble floor, about five feet past where the carpet ended.

That had to hurt.

Well, he was struggling and putting up a fight, and the cops told him to stay down. But he kept fighting and as soon as he regained his feet, out came the stun gun.

ZAP!

Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!

Heh. A small crowd had started to gather at this point, and all activity at the nearest tables had ceased. But they got the cuffs on him and the zip-ties around his ankles, and proceeded to drag him out. I'm guessing they also tested to see if they could open the front door with his head shortly after that.

I wondered what he had done, because whenever there is a chase scene in the casino, 1) The cops aren't there until after it's over, and 2) the perp is always running away from the cage--this one seemed to be running towards it. I found out later that the dude had stolen a car, the cops were chasing him, and so he pulled into the parking lot, hoping to lose them in the crowded casino. But they had radioed our security guys as soon as he drove on property, so they were kinda ready for him.

Since it happened right at the beginning of my shift, I just knew I was in for an interesting evening.

Another great thing happened on one of my Pai Gow tables later on--I kicked the ever-livin' shiat out of one of our super-fleas that I just can't f*cking stand. In fact, every dealer in the joint hates this guy and loves to bust him. When I walked up to the table, I saw his stupid ass sitting there and I immediately lost whatever spring was in my step at the time. Geez I hate that guy. I don't know how I dodged him last night, because the dude never takes a day off. Anyhow, I had the sublime pleasure of busting his ass on every hand. It was a thing of beauty--he didn't win or push a single time. But the best part is this--he's one of those players who takes a shot at the game every time he plays, and I'm always looking to catch him doing something that'll get him 86'd.

He usually plays the Fortune Bonus for $5 per hand, but his main bet for just $10. So whenever he wins a hand, I pay him $9.50. He always pockets the change, but after he wins, on the following hand, instead of betting $5 on the Fortune Bonus, he only bets the four white dollar chips I just paid him.

However, most dealers are lazy and leave the 'Envy Bonus' lammer out on the table in front of him, and since he always sits in seat two, he's hoping that somebody in seat six or seven gets an Envy Bonus and the dealer forgets that he didn't qualify for it. But I watch his ass like a hawk, because I'm onto him.

So he pulled that shiat again tonight, and I yoinked the envy bonus lammer away from him as soon as I saw that he'd only put up four bucks instead of five. And as luck would have it, he had a crummy hand, while I had two pair, so I beat him, of course. And one of our better players on seat seven just happened to get a Straight Flush for a $250 payout. Well, whenever that happens, whoever was playing the Envy Bonus during the hand gets $20.

Everyone else at the table was eligible except for him, so when I made the payouts, I acted like I was going to give him twenty bucks worth of chips, but then I stopped short, saying "Oh, I'm so sorry Robert, you only bet four bucks that time--I guess you don't get an envy bonus..."

Heh. That made my night.

The next hand was his last, as he went all-in. I ended up having three pairs, Kings on top with sixes and threes on the bottom. He had Queens on top and Aces on the bottom, and I could barely contain my laughter when I took the last of his money and saw him shuffle off towards the exit.

Unfortunately, that three pair cleared everyone else off the table too--my cards were falling just a little too hot and chased away my good players, too. I hate when that happens.

But other than that, I was busy for the rest of the night. So busy in fact, I couldn't get the half-hour early push that I was hoping for. I had to stay till the bitter end, finally punching out around 3:00 am, and headed for the store once again to buy some more powerful medicine. I also picked up some sausage links (I've got a bunch of blueberry pancake mix in the cupboard, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day!) and a can of cashews to munch on during the game this afternoon. I also grabbed another 12-pack of that new Vanilla Coke Zero. I'm not sure yet if I like that better than Diet Coke with Lime, but it's pretty damn good. I think if they ever came out with Coke Zero with Lime, then I'd be set.

But now the drugs are kicking in, I've gone almost five minutes without coughing, and my nose is starting to get unstuffed for the first time in the past ten hours without the aid of wasabi paste. I guess it's probably a good time to try and get some sleep.

Y'all have a great day!

Mikey

A Special Message for T-Rev

Heh. The refs had nothing to do with this de-pantsing you clowns took on national TV. Aside from those two early fumbles by Ryan Grant, the only points you guys could muster was two lousy field goals?

Way to represent, seachickens.

But seriously, Bobby Engram is about the only offensive weapon you guys had working. Sean Alexander, not so much. On the other side, I know everyone heaps the man-love on Brett Favre, but Al Harris is a frickin' stud.

See ya in September!

Mikey

Mailing It In

Sorry folks, I'm apologizing in advance for the lameness of this morning's update. I feel like dog poo, I'm half crocked on drugs medication, and I'm a wee bit tired after a full night of entertaining the folks at the tables. I sure hope they had a good time, because they damn near wore my ass out. Of course, I'm running on about half strength and about 30% of normal brain power, too.

The good news was, as soon as I got to work, I found out that I was dealing my favorite string of games--two $10 Pai Gow tables and Deuces Wild. And I started doing the first full hour, thus nearly guaranteeing the half-hour early out. I like that sequence of games because they are very popular and I know that I'll likely be busy the entire night, making the shift just fly by. And it did for the most part, but it wasn't easy due to my attempt at coughing up a lung all night.
Yep, this cough has got not only me, but a handful of other dealers I work with--we spent our breaks drinking hot tea with lemon and popping Hall's like they were Halloween candy. I was glad to see that misery had company last night. Hell, yesterday I damn near lost my voice entirely, and I would've called in sick, but I just can't afford to miss any more time this week.

That's what I miss the most about the salaried corporate world--you get sick, you stay home, you get better, you still get paid, and the only repercussions at the office was the big pile of work waiting for you at your desk when you got back. Not so at the casino--you get sick, you don't get paid. Unless you're in the hospital or something, but I'm not sure how it works. I think you have to use up all your vacation days first, before they pay you sick time. Hell, I don't know, I never use it. I don't think I've used my insurance but once or twice in the three years I've been here.

Anyhow, for being a sickly, hacking, out-of-it dealer last night, I still managed to drop a comparatively good share of tokes, even for spending the majority of my night dealing Pai Gow, which is an especially tough game to try and pry a tip out of the players. I was doing my best to put on my show, and it seemed to go over well. It also helped that I dealt to absolutely ZERO of our normal Pai Gow fleas that everyone hates. I don't know where they were last night, nor do I much care. I'm just glad they weren't at my table. I guess that kinda makes up for New Years Eve this year. When the ball dropped, I was stuck dealing $5 blackjack to five of the loneliest losers in the entire Pacific time zone. When everyone else was popping confetti, drinking champagne, kissing their dates, and singing Auld Lang Syne, those poor freaks were agonizing over whether or not to hit a 15 against my seven. It was kind of fitting when I turned over a three, followed by an Ace, and swept up all of their meager bets.

Besides the occasional coughing fit, the night went by fairly easily. Before I knew it, it was 1:40 in the morning, and I was heading to my last game of the night--forty minutes and out. I debated whether or not to stop at the store and get some more medicine (this bug seems to have overpowered the Delsym), but decided to just stop and get a carton of ice cream to sooth my aching throat. It felt all swollen due to the dozen or so cough drops I'd gone through, so I was looking for something cool with no mediciney aftertaste.

Ben & Jerry's mint cookies & creme did the trick of providing some temporary, but blessed, relief. It's gone now, but I've got a tall glass of ice water on the nightstand and a bag full of drugs within reach. I'm gonna try to sleep for a few hours before getting up and watching today's playoff games. If I'm feeling well enough, and hungry enough, I'm going to make a batch of blueberry muffins and drink about a half gallon of orange juice. Not exactly the coolest tailgating menu in the world, but it'll have to do.

In case anyone is looking for me, I'm that pale blubbery lump under the blankets in the living room, trying to yell at the tv between hack attacks.

Mikey

Yellow Fever

Funny how the scent of the third-of-a-cup of cold leftover hazelnut coffee sitting on my nightstand since yesterday can make me think about food-bloggin'. But it's true. I'm not thirsty for coffee right now, but I know how you folks love to read about food...

You all are keenly aware of how I can go on and on about good pizza. And believe me, if it weren't for boobies, gambling, or sports, that's about all I would think about. But a couple of weeks ago, I had another culinary treat that I've revisited a few times since.

First of all, we have an above-average employee dining room at work. It's got a decent salad bar, a hot-dog treadmill, cafeteria-style pizzas, a steam-table buffet, a made-to-order sandwich station, soup of the day, and a grill where you can order anything from pancakes to quesadillas 24 hours a day. All free of charge. It's not bad--granted, they serve waaaay too much salmon and catfish for my tastes, and the ubiquitous 'Chef's Choice' mystery casserole is always a wild card, and some days it's just downright awful. But for the most part, it's not too bad. Lasagna is always a hit, as is their Chinese food. Rob's favorite is Taco Day, where he will stay after work an extra half-hour loading up, just so he doesn't have to cook once he gets home. Me? I don't care what they're serving in there--it could be Ambrosia delivered straight from Mt. Olympus and served on a nude Playboy bunny--I ain't stickin' around to eat it once I'm done with my shift.

Anyhow, awhile back, I got to work about a half hour early, looking to get a bite to eat before unleashing the fury on the Pai Gow tables. Nothing looked good at all. Pork and sauerkraut? No thanks--I only eat cabbage if I'm dealing dice and need to clear the table. Collared greens and short ribs? None for me, thanks. Split pea soup? Are you kidding--it looked like it should've been served in a diaper. And any self-respecting pizza snob like me wouldn't dare consider touching the culinary blasphemy rotating around behind the glass, sitting in those grease-soaked metal pans. Even the salad bar looked like it had been neglected for several hours. That left the grill as my only option, so I ordered up a bacon cheeseburger--plain and undressed--no lettuce, no tomato, no onion.

By the time I got my root beer, it was ready, so I sat down with a few of my friends and listened to the usual pre-shift bitch-fest that always happens there in the cafeteria. I swear, as a group, there is no more miserable bunch of people than casino dealers on break. But I tuned it out and grabbed a bottle of French's yellow mustard and a bottle of Hunt's ketchup. No mayo, no steak sauce, nothing else.

And let me tell you, that was one of the best burgers I'd eaten in months. It really was pretty enjoyable. Meat, cheese, bread, mustard, ketchup. Almost the perfect food. Normally, here at the house, I keep all kinds of goofy mustard on hand--spicy brown, Dijon, sweet-hot, you name it. I have everything but good old American yellow mustard in the fridge. So going back to the basics was quite a treat. In fact, it was so good, that the next day when we were sitting around watching football, I was telling Rob just how damn good the burger was I'd had at work the night before, and how I thought the plain old mustard was the secret. He concurred, and said that plain mustard is always underrated. Wise fellow, that Rob.

Of course, he's a believer--he's got a huge bottle of French's sitting in the door of the fridge. So the last time I went grocery shopping, I got an eight-pack of 1/4 lb. hamburger patties from the butcher shop and some buns. And I've been not-so-secretly snarfing up Rob's plain yellow mustard every other day for lunch while my bottle of expensive sweet-hot deli mustard looks at me forlornly from the shelf like the last ugly puppy at the pet shop that nobody wants.

I've still got two patties left, and that'll make a fine meal sometime this weekend while I'm watching the playoffs. But once that's gone, I've got a pound of deli-sliced roast turkey that I'll be making sandwiches out of all next week--no mustard there. Just Miracle Whip and Swiss cheese. That's right--I'm one of those people--I prefer the Miracle Whip instead of mayo. But at least I use wheat bread. White bread is for uncouth louts, trailer dwellers, and people who wear pinkie rings.

Mikey

Late to the Party, Again

'Trendy' is not a word people would use to describe me. My wardrobe consists of shorts and Hawaiian shirts, dockers and oxfords, with a handful of funny-to-me t-shirts in the mix. That's about it. The last three cd's I've bought were of music released at least fifteen years ago. And I didn't even start liking Pearl Jam until about seven years after they got big and popular. I'm not what the Madison Avenue types call an 'early adopter'.

So it comes as no surprise that I have just recently discovered the following artist. About a month ago, I was sitting in a bowling alley, waiting for Falcon Rob to come join me for free booze. It was the company "Holiday Party", and they were holding it in a bowling alley. Speaks volumes, if you ask me. Two years ago, it was in the ballroom at Green Valley Ranch with ice sculptures and a string quartet. This year, in a bowling alley... WTF? But I digress. So I was sitting there at the bar, watching videos on the big screen TV, when this video came on:




I was mesmerized! I had no idea who it was, so I had to watch all the way to the end to find out. In the meantime, I was just blown away at the direction and 'cinematography', if you will, of the video. It's amazing. (If you click on the video, it'll take you directly to YouTube, where you can see it with better resolution) I'm certainly no expert on music videos, but I know "good" when I see it, and this one ranks right up there with George Michael's Freedom 90 video. Not only that--it's just a damn good song!

Being a history buff, the 1940's/WWII era is endlessly fascinating to me, and I've always thought that of any decade in history, that's when the styles of dress and hair were the most attractive, at least to me. Granted, this video is a very loose interpretation/homage to that era, but damn, I was hooked.

When I finally realized that it was Christina Aguilera, I was shocked. Back in 2002 or so, before we knew what bat-shiat crazy disease-addled slatterns that Brittney and Lindsay were, I thought the title of Queen Skizank belonged to Christina Aguilera.

Holy shiat. Let me be the first to admit that I was totally wrong. My opinion of her has done a complete 180, and she gets a coveted spot on my laminated list! Of course, she had done a complete and total image makeover in the past couple of years, and I'm ok with that. Whatever she's doing, it's working--it's got me all hot and bothered.

Not knowing anything about the music the kids were listening to, I used to kind of think that her and Gwen Stefani were basically formed from the same cookie cutter (even though I had that first big No Doubt cd), BUT, Gwen Stefani is now persona non grata in my book just because she has released three of the dumbest f*cking songs I have ever heard.

Seriously--I view her as a no-talent assclown, just like Michael Bolton.

Anyhow, enough talk about my Christina-crush. Let me show you the goods:







Those are nice photos, to be sure, but madre de dios, this pic should make all you children of the Seventies do a collective gasp and wonder Farrah who?


If that's not enough, here's an extremely not safe for work pic that makes me want to work at Disneyland--You've been warned!

Word around the campfire is that she's married now, but you know how them Hollywood relationships last--If it doesn't work out, I'm here in Vegas--she knows where to find me.

By the way, does anyone know if I can still call her a Sugar Mama if she's younger than me? Could we get a ruling on that?

Mikey

Doubling Down on the Nasty Funk

Man, I feel like total crapola today. If you remember, I woke up on Christmas morning with a mild head cold. Nothing a little Zicam, Alka-Seltzer Plus, and Halls couldn't take care of. Of course, it's a virus, so it has to run it's course, and I was a little under the weather for two weeks. And right on schedule, Tuesday morning, I felt fine.

Then yesterday afternoon I was in the living room watching a little PTI, and started coughing. And couldn't stop. A few cough drops helped, but it was only temporary. It got much worse as I headed to work, but I took some medicine with me. It only helped a little, as it was mostly for head colds, and this crap is centered in my lungs. So instead of getting all this nastiness at the same time, I get to spread it out over a month. Great...

I was miserable at work, and forced myself to stay at least half the shift, due to my early out on Monday. But midnight came and I ran out of cough drops, felt like crap, and my head was glistening with sweat. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't make it any further. I was on a dead game, so when they told me to bring the lid up and start closing it, I asked if I could just go ahead and punch out. They were kind enough to let me.

So I shuffled on out of the casino, looking forward to a nice hot steamy shower. I made a quick stop at the grocery store for a few essentials, including a bottle of that Delsym stuff that works so well. Of course, being a miracle drug, it's priced appropriately at $12 for a 3 oz. bottle, about eight times the price of good rum. And believe me, it doesn't taste nearly as good.

Once I got home and out of the shower, I swigged a couple of teaspoons, as per the directions. But that left me wholly unsatisfied. After a day of nothing but orange juice and ice water, I'm currently trying to go healthy with 12 ounces of yeast, hops, barley, and good old Mississippi river water.

Cheers!

Mikey

Damn You, Travel Channel!

So, I was sitting around doing not a damn thing yesterday afternoon when Rob stumbled home from the casino--they'd sent him home early. I guess that's the big difference between full-time (me) and extra-board (Rob). I can choose to come home early, otherwise, I work a full 40 hours a week. He has no choice and only gets scheduled a few days a week, and they'll send him home at their pleasure.

I think that's why I'm so reluctant to go find a new job, as often as I talked about it. The casino industry here in Vegas is like no other in the real world. If you leave a job and take another one, 99% of the time you won't be hired for full time--you go back to being on the extra board, so you lose benefits and what-not, making it a huge pain in the ass, not to mention a hit to the wallet. All because you want a better job. They make it very hard to change jobs, unless you're quitting a really crummy paying one (like the Golden Gate) and moving up to a better paying place like where I'm at now.

Anyhow, once he got home, we parked ourselves in the living room to watch a couple of episodes of Jeopardy that we'd recorded, and once that finished up, I played another show I'd recorded from the Travel Channel, called Pizza Paradises. Yeah, we hadn't watched for more than five minutes or so before we both started thinking the same thing--FOOD PORN!

Watching them pull a fresh-made pizza from the oven on that huge TV, with a picture so brilliant that you could almost smell the toppings, it wasn't long before we'd talked ourselves into dinner at--wait for it--yes, Grimaldi's! But at least we managed to wait until the show was over before heading out to get our grub on.

So there we were, an hour later, sitting there at my favorite pizza joint in the known universe, marveling over the fact that we'd never seen their extensive wine list. But vino was not what we came for. We were there for the pie. And the hostess was kind enough to put us at the table closest to the display kitchen where we could watch the magic happen.

Instead of 16-inchers this time, we both went large and ordered 18-inchers. And years of experimentation has taught me that the perfect pizza topping consists of one meat and one vegetable. Rob concurs, and got his favorite, ham and onion. I stuck with old reliable--pepperoni and mushroom. For drinks, I was tempted to go with a beer, but just wasn't feeling it, so I had my favorite Arnold Palmer--half iced tea, half lemonade. Rob did The Dew.

The great thing about thin-crusted NY-style pies baked at uber-high temps means that you don't have to wait long for dinner to cook. No sitting there for an hour getting antsy like at a Chicago deep-dish joint. New Yorkers like to get things done, so they don't have time for dilly-dally, and just a few minutes later, our pies were delivered to our table, generating oohs and aaaahhs from other patrons in the dining room whose mouths watered while still waiting for their own pan full of happiness to arrive.

Again, perfection. No grease on the bottom, and a nice bubbly charred crust providing the base for quality toppings, the whole thing brought held together by a red sauce that would even make liver taste good. Conversation pretty much came to a stop as we lustily dove in. It was so good that after the first piece we totally forgot about the grated Parmesan. Didn't need it.

However, I now realize that I'm going to go back to 16-inchers instead of the large. Not that there is a thing wrong with more pizza--there isn't--more is better, especially when it's this good! But just like ordering a pint of beer instead of a 23 ounce schooner--unless you just pound the beer, it gets warm. If you want to enjoy it, the big glass is too much at once. The same thing goes for the 18 inch pizza--that thin crust, suspended in the air over the table on the serving rack, gets cool too quickly because you can't eat it fast enough unless you go totally Belushi on it. And this pizza is meant to be savored, not crammed down like a buffet with a time limit. So from now on, I think I'll stick to the 'medium' 16 inch pie and just make peace with the fact that there will be no leftovers.

On the other hand, enjoying three pieces this morning before I posted this was a lot like hooking up with the hottest girl in the club last night, and then waking up and going another round before heading home.

Oh yeah, it's that good.

So no, I never got around to making that Crab Rangoon I've been teasing you with these past couple of days. Sorry 'bout that.

Mikey

Anybody Seen Falcon Rob?

As far as sports fans go, nobody has had a tougher week than Falcon Rob. First of all, his alma-mater, Bowling Green State University, just got their asses handed to them in the GMAC Bowl a couple of days ago, losing to Tulsa, 63-7.

He's also a huge Steelers fan, even sporting a Kendrell Bell replica jersey on occasion. And everyone knows what happened to the Steelers on Saturday night--they lost at home to Jacksonville, getting eliminated from the playoffs. Regardless of what Oakland or Dallas fans have to say, the Pittsburgh Steelers ARE America's team, so that loss had to sting quite a bit.

And then there was last night, when his favorite college team, the Ohio State Buckeyes, got waxed once again by an SEC team in the national championship game. It started out ok, but then it got ugly in a hurry. After seeing him put a hurt on our tequila stocks after the Illinois loss late in the season, I was worried how this latest setback might affect him. I sent him a text message from work last night, asking if I needed to bring home more tequila. He never answered, but when I got home, there was that note on the counter saying he was going out drinking and he'd be home sometime today. That was over 12 hours ago, and I haven't seen or heard from him since.


I'm guessing that he found comfort in the arms of another fan who might be feeling his same pain.


Mikey

Blatant Thievery

Sometimes, I just can't think of anything to write about. I think my life is fairly dull, even though I work in a casino, which a lot of people find fascinating. I have to admit, it's not always boring--every week there is something interesting or exciting happening, or something happens where all I can do is shake my head and mumble to myself WTF?

Besides, most of the feedback I get from readers of this site tells me that they're most interested in two things 1) Food, which is always a popular topic, and 2) Life in a Vegas Casino, since most of my readers seem to be Vegas addicts needing a digital fix. Sometimes, being so close to the action, it's tough to see the little nuggets of activity that outsiders find fascinating. Somebody blowing through ten grand? Feh--seen it dozens of times. Somebody melting down and snapping? I see it a couple times a month. A huge winner? Yep, it happens, more often than you'd think.

So the other day, I was reading Falcon Rob's latest post about life in the casino, so I thought I'd post the same thing with my own observations from behind the green burgundy felt.

Biggest Single Win

It's tough to get a single huge win in our casino because most of the time our table limits are capped at $2000 per hand. Like Rob, I've seen people hit the hard ways on the dice table with purple chips for a $4500 payoff on several occasions, but the biggest single payout I've made was late at night on the blackjack table. I was dealing a private double-deck game to a single player who was playing two hands at $5000 per hand, and managed to give him a couple of blackjacks for a $7500 payout each time. That was pretty cool.

Biggest Single Loss

Same guy as above, losing two hands at the same time for 15 grand. Ouch. It was especially ugly since I was showing a five and he doubled down on one of his hands, getting a twenty and a nineteen with his other hand. I then pulled a five-card 21. Seriously, ouch.

Biggest Single Winning Session

I've seen a couple of guys color up for $70,000+ on the dice table after an unbelievably hot night and some crazy press action, but I wasn't involved, thank god. Dealing blackjack one night, one of our regulars, who usually *never* walks away when he wins, went on a huge rush for about five hours and turned $500 into something just north of forty grand. The problem is, he's one of those Jekyll and Hyde types who's nice when he's winning and sober, but just a complete ass when he's drunk and losing. He got so bad that he has since been 86'd from our casino, so I haven't seen him in months. But it was a helluva run, and we made some good money that night.

Biggest Single Losing Session

One time I took $22,000 off of a guy in less than ten minutes at the blackjack table. It was ugly--no matter what he did, he couldn't win a hand. Another time I was on stick at the dice table, and there was a loud obnoxious guy standing right next to me carrying a man-purse just *stuffed* with hundred-dollar bills. After every roll, he'd throw down a thousand on some stupid prop bet, and he didn't catch a single one, burning through almost 40 grand in less than twenty minutes.

Smallest Bet Made

Back when I first started at my current casino, we had a dollar dice game with quarters, so the fleas could make all kinds of stupid bets--$1.25 on the nine, $1.50 on the six, etc. And a lot of times they'd use those quarter chips (no, not the green $25 chips, but light blue 25-CENT chips!) for their hard ways. You gotta love paying off a buck-seventy-five on a hard ten... Ugh. Just thinking about that game gives me the creeps.

And about once a week, I'll get somebody at the Pai Gow tables trying to put me up for a quarter on the Fortune Bonus. When that happens, I tell them to wait until they can afford three more, as the minimum bet is one US dollar...

Hitting Rock Bottom

I see people betting with money that they obviously shouldn't be playing with almost every day. The funny thing is, if they are losing, they absolutely *refuse* to leave with a single dollar--they'd rather go home flat broke than take their case money with them. Or even if they're down to their last ten bucks, instead of walking, they'll play it until it's gone--it's amazing to watch. Of course, you want to put this person out of their misery, and I'd rather not deal to them anyways--you know you'll never get a toke out of them, so might as well just bust them and send them on their way. But it seems that a case bet NEVER loses, and the jerkoff keeps hanging around. Sometimes when it's obvious that a player won't leave until he's flat broke, but he's still treading water with ten or twenty bucks, but keeps standing up to leave, wins the hand, and sits back down, it irritates the hell out of me. Sometimes they outlast me, and I get tapped out to go on break and they're still sitting there with their last ten bucks. So a lot of times I'll say to the relief dealer, as I'm leaving the table, "This guy wants to go home broke, help him out!"

The worst though, are the Pai Gow players who start hitting up other players for money as soon as they go broke, or don't have enough to make a Fortune Bonus in addition to their regular bet. I love running them off the table--no hustling other players on my game!

Weirdest Player Dealt To

Oh, we get a lot of absolute freaks that come in. Every now and then we'll get a bum who finds his way in off of Boulder Highway with a wrinkled up twenty, thinking that they'll turn it into a million. They always play till it's gone, not satisfied into turning it into an extremely lucky hundred for a thousand-percent return. Rob mentioned the Rastafarian midget that comes in and plays craps almost every week--He's ok, just kind of a pain in the ass to deal to. There's another guy who we call "Buddy Love" who is just a complete jackass to deal to and he stays for hours upon hours, not leaving the table for an entire shift. He's a total douchebag and every dealer in the place just *hates* him. I still give Rob shiat about the time he was dealing to this jerkoff and made the ultimate rookie mistake of asking him what his "system" was. The dude started talking and didn't come up for air for about six hours, about the time Rob left for the day, ready to kill him with a hammer.

There's another guy who comes in every weekend to play blackjack who fancies himself as a professional card counter, and he's a total flea. Everybody hates him and tries to bust him because not only is he an annoying stiff, he has the worst B.O. stench, bad breath, he's a chain-smoker, and he annoys and chases off all the rest of the decent players who happen to sit down at the table. What makes it worse is that he's about six feet tall, weighs maybe a buck-thirty, and has long stringy gray hair that is never washed. Rob and I call him 'Edgar Winter', but all the rest of the dealers on my shift simply refer to him as 'Freakshow'. The funny thing is, I thought they'd back him off because of his obvious card-counting, but he just loses his ass every week, so they continue to let him play.

Most Famous Player Dealt To

That would be Robin Williams, also known as Mork from Ork. I've also dealt dice to a few well-known poker pros, but most of them aren't that good. And for the most part, they're not very good tippers, either.

Biggest Dealer Bet Made

A few times I've had players put me up for two or three hundred on a hand while dealing blackjack, and I've lost just as many as I've won. The casino limits dealer bets to $300 per hand without supervisor approval, because they know that once that money hits the toke box, they'll never have a chance of getting it back from the player. So yeah, the casino wants the dealers to make money, but not too much.

I've also had players put me up for $5 a hand on the Fortune Bonus for Pai Gow, which isn't much at first glance, but a couple of times I've hit it for a Straight Flush, which pays us $255. Not too shabby.

Just the other day I was dealing dice and a player colored up to leave and threw in a $5 red chip, telling me to put it on whatever bet I wanted for the boys. So I called a hopping hard ten. Next roll--fifty five! That's $155 and down for the crew, which earned me a few high fives while the boxman just sat there with his jaw on the table shaking his head. Heh.

Best and Worst Toke Days

Early on I had one day over $300, but it's been almost two years since then. Other than that, the highest toke day was around $260, but I couldn't tell you when the last day we had that was actually over $200. It's been a tough year. The worst toke day I've seen for eight hours was $78, but luckily that happened on a Tuesday, and I'm off on Tuesdays. My worst showing for eight hours was $86, but in the past month, we've had several days in the low nineties.

Back when I worked at the Golden Gate, we averaged about $50-$60 per day. Good lord.

Biggest Mistake Made

You mean other than learning dice and blackjack first and getting a pit job instead of a poker job when I moved to town? Damn, if I'd only known...

One time I spent 45 minutes dealing a single deck pitch game of blackjack FACE UP before the shift boss even noticed. I thought I was gonna get busted, fired, wrote up, suspended, or have to deal with some sort of negative repercussions, but she just laughed and said that I wasn't in trouble, but the floor supervisor certainly was. Heh. The funny thing is that the players who'd been sitting there, tucking and scraping their cards before I got there, were totally oblivious, thinking it must've been Dealers Choice or something...

Another time, on the Pai Gow table, I mis-set my hand as a straight flush with a King-Four on top, when I should've set it as a flush with a pair of fours on top. Everybody pushed, whereas they all would've lost had I set it right (about a $300 swing against the house). But I didn't notice until after the damage was done, and neither surveillance or the floor caught it, so I just played dumb and kept on dealing. Never heard a word about it.

Dumbest Shots Taken

Players take shots all the time, trying to cheat the casino out of a few bucks here and there. One time I was dealing dice, and this bum came shuffling in and stood right next to me. He put his money on the pass line, and on the come out roll the point was established as four. Well, four is the toughest point to make, so he immediately dropped all of his chips all over the layout in front of him, holding up the game. He scooped them all up in a pile, including his pass line bet that he no longer wanted to make, but I caught him and made him put it back. Nice try! I told him.

Just three nights ago a guy was playing Pai Gow and putting a dollar chip on the bottom and one of our old limited-edition $5 chips with the white edges on top, trying to make it look like he was betting ten bucks when he was only betting six. He probably would've gotten away with it, the way he offset the chip slightly, hiding the lower one in a shadow, but he lost the bet, and I caught him when I went to pick up the chips. Uh, dude, you owe me another five bucks. Nice try, though. I love telling people that when I bust them.

Dream Scenario

For the most part, I like dealing, but sometimes it just gets old. Especially dealing at a locals joint where you see that same people night in and night out. Most of them are pretty nice, but there are about 20 people I can name off the top of my head that if I never saw again, I'd think I was the luckiest guy on earth.

I'm not leaving my current position anytime soon, at least as much as I can anticipate, but setting aside the fantasy of winning the World Series of Poker Main Event and not having to work at all, I guess my ultimate gig would be to deal poker at the MGM Grand full time, and work two or three days a week dealing Pai Gow and some classy joint like Encore or Caesars Palace. That would be ideal. Oh, and of course when that happens, I'll be dating a cocktail waitress/showgirl and earning royalties on all of the articles I've sold, too.

Mikey

Apologies

To the 500+ people who visited this site yesterday, expecting a new post or some sort of interesting update, I am sorry for being a slacker.

I was up late on Sunday night, didn't get much sleep, had to get up early on Monday morning and make a phone call, and once that was taken care of, I went back to sleep for several hours, not waking up until almost 2:30 in the afternoon.

So what did I do? I spent a couple hours watching the pre-game hype surrounding the LSU/Ohio State game. I figured LSU would win, and of course I was rooting for the SEC to do well. But I *knew* it was over when Lou Holtz picked Ohio State--What a senile old fool he is. This is the same guy who, the week before the season kicked off, said that Notre Dame should be ranked in the top ten, and that they were going to surprise a lot of people this season. Yep, I was surprised at how bad they were, that's for sure. Anyhow, I couldn't help myself, so I sent a text message to Falcon Rob, telling him that it was over because Holtz just picked Ohio State. Heh.

I got to watch the first quarter of the game before shuffling off to work. Once I got to the casino, I put my name on the list to get out early, requesting 2 1/2 hours of EO. Then I checked the road map, and didn't see my name listed anywhere--I had no table assigned to me. Hmmm... Just then, the boss walked over and I said "Hey, you can go ahead and send me home, it's my Friday" and then she pointed out that I was scheduled to deal dice instead. Doh!

It's extremely tough to request a specific time if you want out early and are dealing dice, so I had to change my request to an "anytime Early Out", meaning that they'll punt you at their earliest convenience, or you can be stuck till the bitter end.

So I went and clocked in, wandered over to the dice pit, and took my spot dealing to a couple of players. About ten minutes into my shift, Lars Vargas and his lovely bride Sheri showed up, having gotten out of the house to have dinner there at the casino. So I was half-assing my way through the game, talking to them, when the boss showed up and said I was going home at 8 pm. Holy crap--talk about an early out! And my rotation on the table was such that I'd deal for the first 20 minutes, take a twenty minute break, and then come back and be the stickman for the final 20 minutes before going home. But then about two minutes later, I got updated instructions--"Just go home when you get tapped out".

Ok! So I got the rare 7 1/2 hour EO last night. So I went and signed out, punched out, changed my shirt, and then Lars, Sheri, and I went to the bar to watch the game and have a couple of beers. We caught up for a bit and had two rounds before calling it a night.

In the meantime, Ohio State was getting their asses completely kicked. Which actually kinda sucked, because the smokin' hot cocktail waitress that I've been hot for for months is an Ohio State fan, and she told me that she had them in a parlay that would pay her $300 if they covered the five points they were getting. So, I was hoping they'd keep it close, if only for her sake. But of course, I'm *not* a Buckeye fan by any stretch of the imagination, so part of me was enjoying the beat-down. But she stopped by our table a couple of times for updates, and she was not enjoying the game nearly as much as I was.

Falcon Rob, who bleeds Ohio State crimson scarlet, was faring no better back at the house.

I got home about two or three minutes after the game ended, and noticed that his car was gone. On the counter was a hand-written note that said "I'm going out drinking, I'll be home sometime tomorrow". It's after midnight right now, and he's not home yet, so I hope he's not feeling too suicidal and maybe found some other sad Buckeye fans to drown his sorrows with...


Anyhow... I too am pretty sad because now college football is officially over until next September. Damn. Nine months. The NFL is cool, but it's just not nearly as much fun as college football is. Plus there are just too many damn commercials. Somehow I'll muddle through. The playoffs are here, then there is the Super Bowl, the Daytona 500, March Madness, Opening Day, The Masters, the baseball season, and before too long, football will come back and the circle of life will be complete.

So, what's on the agenda for today? Well, at some point, I'm going to go down to the grocery store and get some fixin's for my Crab Rangoon. I still haven't decided what else to make with it, but I'm hoping that a little surfing around my favorite foodie sites will provide inspiration. I'm also going to finish scrubbing my bathroom (I started on it last night when I got home, but there is still much work to be done), and maybe do a little bit of reading, too. But I think the most fun will be found in the kitchen.

More later,

Mikey

Master Mixologist

We're all about the good grub here at the Man Cave. Rob and I both like to cook, and given the absolute HAUL of kitchen gadgets I got for Christmas this year, it would be a shame not to put them to immediate use.

First of all, that huge cast iron skillet has become indispensable. I use it all the time--from frying bacon, to making gravy, or cooking hash browns--it does it all. The muffin tins are also getting a workout. I still haven't made that crab dish I was talking about, but I'm still munchin' on poppyseed muffins every day, and the blueberry variety is waiting in the wings. Dave P sent along the mixer I had on my wish list, and it's a monster. It'll mix pretty much everything but bread dough. So my first use of it will be next week--I'm going to make Crab Rangoon. I used to make it all the time several years ago, but I haven't done it in quite awhile. No mixer was the reason, I guess--it's a bitch to mix cream cheese by hand.

Along with the Crab Rangoon, I've got to come up with another dish to serve with it. I'm pretty much sold on Thai-style coconut rice, but I don't know what else to do. Maybe chicken satay with peanut sauce, or just plain old sweet and sour pork. We'll see what I feel like next week. Hell, back in college, I'd just dump a can of La Choy over rice whenever I made crab Rangoon. It was fine. But I'd like to go all-out and make something crazy good. If Angy ever finds her way back over here again, I'll make coconut shrimp for her because I know she likes it so much. It'd be a good excuse to make it for 'practice'.

Speaking of Angy, and the rest of the T2V buffoons, I got good news last night. I got my five days of vacation approved for the week of the Madness. I'll scoot outta work early on Monday night before the clowns start arriving in town, and won't go back till the Thursday night after the party ends, ten days later! Man, I don't know what I'm looking forward to more--March Madness with my buddies, or the fact that I don't have to work for ten days straight! All I know is that I'm gonna be going on a poker bender. Maybe a rum bender too, just for giggles.

That's about all for now. I've got to get some sleep before the games start. I've got a three-leg parlay on today's action, so I need to be well rested when the frisbee of my expectations gets stuck on the roof of reality later this evening.

Mikey

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

I was doing my usual bi-weekly ritual of writing checks, figuring the bills, and putting stamps to envelopes this morning when the thought struck me that I had no idea how many vacation days I still had left until May, four months hence, when I collect another two weeks worth.

This holiday season was a busy one at work, and I'm thinking I could use a little time off, even if I don't go anywhere. I thought I had three days left, plus the three floater days I collected on January 1st. I know I'm gonna need some time off during The Madness, so those three floater days are spoken for. And, ideally, I'd really like to just take the whole week off away from work so that it actually *feels* like a vacation (the past two years, I've gone back to work on either Sunday or Monday night, so I was away from the casino for just a couple of days).

So instead of wondering, I decided to call the payroll office. Turns out that I still have a weeks worth of vacation left to use! Woot! So with my floaters, that gives me eight days to play with between now and the end of April.

Well, the first thing is a no-brainer. I'm going to take five days off during March Madness, giving me nine days away from the casino when you factor in my weekends! Oh good lord, you have no idea how great it would be to not set foot in that place for nine days straight!

That still leaves me with three more days. I think I'm going to use one of them to try to get Super Bowl Sunday off. I'd love to be able to actually enjoy the game once again. That leaves two days in the bank, which I'll probably use to make another road trip down to Phoenix at some point. I don't have to use them all before May, but it's nice to know that they're there.

Mikey

The Pizza Snob Strikes Again!

The members of my social network are all keenly aware that I am a pizza snob aficionado, so there is no shortage of recommendations of places I should try. But one of the unintended consequences of finally finding and enjoying the Greatest Pizza On Earth, Or At Least My Corner Of It, is that everything else just pales in comparison. The bar has been set so high that nobody else can hope to compete. Seriously, short of a trip to Pizza Mecca, I'm pretty sure that Grimaldi's won't ever be topped. (And where is the original Grimaldi's located, class? That's right--Brooklyn!). But you know what--even though it may be an exercise in futility, it's still fun to try. Hell, I know I'll never come anywhere close to breaking Wilt Chamberlain's record of 20,000 women, but that doesn't mean I won't give it a shot.

So I've had a few different people tell me that Sunset Pizzeria on West Horizon Ridge out here in Henderson is pretty damn good. When I hear it from one person, I don't put too much stock in it, because their tastes may not be anything like mine. When I hear it from two different people, I'm intrigued. Any recommendations beyond that moves it to the top of the 'Must Do' list. Since I had three different people tell me about it and give it the thumbs up, I knew I had to try.

Last night, both Rob and I had the evening away from the casino, an empty cupboard, and a few bucks in our pockets. So off we went. The pizza joint is just right down the road from the Man Cave, so it didn't take us five minutes to get there. When we pulled up, we both thought Uh oh, it doesn't look like it even has a dining room--we might have to get our dinner to go. If that was the case, I said we'd bag it and just go to Grimaldi's, because if I have to wait for a pizza, I'd prefer to be sitting at the bar in a place I like, rather than standing around outside freezing my ass off waiting for a pie of unknown quality. But we were wrong--as we walked up to the door, we could see that there was a long narrow area on the side with a few tables and chairs.

So we grabbed a couple of paper menus and headed to a table in the rear of the dining area. Immediately we noticed a self-serve Coke fountain, so that was a good sign--none of that vile Pepsi shiat stinking up the joint! The room was fairly plain, the only decor was some cheezy random sports memorabilia, looking like stuff from the clearance bin on the Home Shopping Network, with the occasional autographed picture from an unknown boxer tossed in the mix. We also noticed that there were way too many employees hanging around. And by 'employees', I mean gentlemen of European descent, wearing velour track suits and lots of jewelry, speaking in heavy accents, sitting at the tables, not eating. Yes, they outnumbered us six-to-two, not including the kid they had cooking in the kitchen.

Rob and I both noticed it at the same time, and I even remarked that if a guy comes out of the bathroom wearing a Members Only jacket, I'm diving under the table. Some restaurants try for a mobbed-up vibe with pictures of John Gotti or Al Capone on the walls, dark wood accents, and dimly lit booths, but this place was nothing like that--it felt authentic, kind of like we were having dinner at Satriale's Pork Store. So we were on our best behavior.

For a joint with no discernible ambiance, but plenty of real gangster-style vibe, the menu was rather extensive. Lots of southern Italian pasta dishes, a huge list of salads, calzones, both hot and cold sandwiches, and of course, pizza.

Rob immediately pointed out the must-have for me, pizza number four -- Mikey's Favorite. It was a 16-inch pie that featured pepperoni, Italian sausage, salami, and mushrooms. I looked no further. Rob dug a little deeper on the menu and went with the ham-and-cheese calzone. We walked back up to the front and placed our order, skipping the appetizers altogether, content to just sip on our Cokes and whisper about what kind of nefarious misdeeds must go on in this place when nobody was looking.

About fifteen minutes later, dinner was delivered to our table by the same guy who cooked it. The pizza looked amazing, and Rob's calzone was huge. The food was piping hot, straight out of the oven, and of course I burned the roof of my mouth on the first bite. On the downside, there was no grated Parmesan available, and at that point we realized that we had no silverware, either. Rob, being the resourceful dude that he is, found some forks by the soda fountain. The help-yourself aspect of the place only added to the experience.

The pizza was pretty good, although the crust was just a wee bit thicker than I prefer, but not bad at all. And the edges were chewy and delicious--perfect for dipping in ranch dressing. The pie itself was a little on the greasy side, but that was to be expected having three different kind of salted meats on top. About mid-way through the second piece, I realized that there were absolutely no mushrooms to be found anywhere on the pizza. Not wanting to cause any trouble, we just figured that whoever that other Mikey was, he must've developed an allergy to mushrooms after the menus were already printed, and just left it at that.

The sauce didn't have as much zip as I would've liked, the mozzarella was the shredded industrial variety, and there was no fresh basil in site, but again, it's pizza--you have to try *really* hard to screw it up. It was good, but not great. We both decided that if Grimaldi's was a 10, and New York Pizza & Pasta was an 8, than this was a good solid 7, but that's just the opinion of the Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson of the pizza-judging world. We could easily see how some people would just love it. The prices weren't bad, either, as dinner for two came to thirty bucks, with leftovers.

Would I eat there again? Certainly. But if I'm going out for pizza, Grimaldi's is just too close, so Sunset Pizzeria is going to lose that battle every time. And when I finish up, I won't feel like I have to check under the drivers seat before I start my truck.

Mikey

Welcome To 2008!

Happy New Year, everybody--I hope everyone had a wonderful and safe holiday season!

Yeah, I know, I haven't written in about five days or so, but I've been working my ass off all week, and when I wasn't doing that, I was lying in bed, sick. Yep, that head cold has upgraded itself from tropical depression to a full-on tropical storm, and it has taken damn near all my strength. And on New Year's Eve, I forgot to bring any medicine with me to work, so by 11:00 pm or so, I was just flat-out miserable. Not only was I feeling poorly, I spent the evening dealing low-limit blackjack to a table full of lonely losers who had no place to go or anything to do that night. It was so bad--every time one of my co-workers would walk by my table, they'd shake their head in pity and empathy, secretly giving thanks that all the morons had gravitated to me that night instead of them.

But we weren't nearly as busy as expected on NYE, so the bosses were slamming lids on the tables as early as 12:30. Since I was feeling like crap, I scooted out at 1:00 am, dodged all the drunks on the road, and went straight to bed. It was probably my lamest New Years Eve ever.

I set my alarm for 7:40 in the morning, giving me enough time to make a pot of coffee and take a shower before the Tournament of Roses Parade started at 8:00. I love watching the Rose Parade--no matter how stupid drunk I get or how late I work, I always get up to watch it live. The last time I missed it was in 1996, but I was doing the 'drive of shame' that morning--having to catch a cab back to the bar, fetch my car, and come home...

Anyhow, for whatever reason, I was wide awake a half-hour before the alarm, so I just got out of bed and kickstarted my day off. The first score of the day was finding out that the parade was being broadcast commercial-free on the Discovery HD Theater channel. Nice! So I basically didn't get out of the chair except to refill my coffee cup. I then spent the rest of the day absolutely vegging out in front of an endless stream of bowl games, finally throwing in the towel during the Sugar Bowl, once it was an obvious blow out.

Not a bad way to spend New Years Day, if I do say so myself. At some point, I got hungry, so I got up out of the chair and made a batch of lemon-poppy seed muffins, breaking in my new muffin tins. Yep, they work great! I think, however, that our gas oven runs a bit hot, and even using a timer and following the directions, baked stuff comes out just a *hint* overdone. Not burned or anything like that, just the "skin" of the muffins was a little too elasticky. But now I know, so future baking projects should turn out fine.

Having gotten plenty of sleep last night, my plan for today is to be completely productive. Once I get a shower and some medicine into my system, I'll tackle some much-needed housecleaning (my room is a mess and the laundry is never done) before settling down with either a book or a movie, depending on my mood.

Mikey

Hump Day Videos

Just to ease my way back into blogging this week, here are a few cool videos for ya. First one up, Robbie Maddison's football-field jump from New Year's Eve here in Vegas:



It was a 322-foot jump, which is amazing to think about when compared to Evel Knievel's jump at the Caesars Palace fountains on New Years Eve 1967. It was only 125 feet, and it damn near killed him:




Now, speaking of mis-judging a jump, this video just cracked my ass up when I saw it for the first time yesterday:




So if that cat was Evel Knievel, this one is Robbie Maddison:




Mikey