Thursday, December 18, 2008
The Vegas
While shooting around at the gym this morning I debated whether or not I'd do a trip report. I ain't got nothing else going on, so why the hell not? Playing basketball even jogged my memory a bit.
~
My first game I was on smokin'. I didn't miss a shot.
The first person I spoke with upon landing in Vegas was the Rooster. We met up at the Geisha bar then went to Casa Fuente for a smoke and the Bears-Saints game. I had a delicious Casa Fuente Belicoso Fina. The shop only sells Arturo Fuente cigars, with Casa Fuente being the house blend. You can only purchase the Casa Fuente line at the shop at Caesar's. It was a big peppery smoke with a good draw and nice long ash.
As a bonus, we were served 2 for 1 drinks by some good looking ladies.
Rooster got their digits.
~
I got to the gym pretty early today. Worked on the J and things I wouldn't attempt in front of other people.
I enjoyed bouncing between my friends of 10+ years and the invisible Internet friends. But by cracky, the rajing solo was a blast. And very necessary. Some funny/interesting things went down. A few I might even tell you about. I spent a lot of solo time at -EV games I had never played before and in front of slot machines that had 4000 different ways to win. Always with a beer or glass of vodka in front of me.
~
My hot shooting continued into the second game. That's when I did a little heat check. Two times I pulled up at the three point line on fast breaks. Both times I missed.
En route to meeting up with Heath at a blackjack table I stopped at a craps table. There were three big boobied ladies at one end. And I loves me some craps.
One of the ladies hit point after point. I looked down at my checks and saw I was up a good amount. I pocketed what I started with and placed a large pass line bet. I used the rest to take max odds and bet on 6 and 8. She needed to hit a 10 for a nice payout.
No craps bad beat stories here. But you can figure out what happened.
~
Why does that guy always wear a LeBron jersey and Cavs shorts?
Yeah. I wore a suit all weekend. The same suit every day. I changed shirts and sometimes wore a tie. There were three times that I woke up in the suit. One time I still had the coat on.
After a legen.. wait for it.. dary run in January, my friends and I said that next trip we would wear suits one night the next trip. I went all the way by never taking it off.
During one of my solo runs, what I assumed to be an underage prostitute sat next to me at a slot machine. She admired my full windsor knot. So I taught her how to tie one herself. After ten minutes she figured it out. She said, "I've never actually tied a real knot with a necktie before." The $15 I won during those ten minutes should cover the dry cleaning bill.
~
Dan is a marathon runner who gets up and down the court quickly. He's just deadly on the fast break. But when the game slows down he's just lost. He doesn't when and how to move. Fucking waste of height and athleticism.
On the way to the IP from the Venetian, there was a guy carrying some purple tube who asked us "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?" We pointed him in the correct direction. He replied, "Thanks. I need to get there soon. My buddies are getting into a fight." He was 5'2" and 95 lbs. He must have had a steel cage match lined up against the O'Shea's midget.
We had a fairly large group (including Dr Chako, The Wife, and Alan) - our pace wasn't very brisk. But we found the little guy again. And once again asked "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?"
"Dude - it's still that way. And your friends are probably dead."
~
There's an old dude we play with who's completely clueless. His shot selection is horrible and his form is disgusting. But you know what? He actually hits a lot of shots.
Picture it. MGM Grand. 4:30am. It was Heath, BG, and me at a blackjack table. There was a crazy Asian kid in the first seat who didn't exactly play by the book. In fact, he probably has his own book. He hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 4. He doesn't split 8s. But he kept winning! It was just ridiculous. Or, ridicurous.
At one point, BG had the same hand as first base. 15 with the dealer showing a 6. BG said, "I'm doing what he's doing on this hand." The kid hit. BG one-upped him and doubled down. Sure enough, the two of them won. Absolutely fucking sick.
First Base: I think that's all for me guys. I'm leaving.
Me: But if you go you're gonna screw up the deck!
For an extra dollar, a bonus was payable to "colored" pairs. BG, sporting a Hitler moustache, said "they prefer African-American now," and I said, "if I show you a wedding picture, do I get paid 6-1?"
~
The worst player on the court is a trash talker. Nonstop chatter. You don't want him to get a block or steal, because he'll scream out "GET THAT SHIT OUTTA HERE!" He's 5'3" and I want to kick his ass.
A few things here.
- BG kept reminding Rena, our blackjack dealer, that she's "an awful, awful, human being."
- After a string of losing hands and pushes, I pretended to cry. Then came the hand that was gonna put me up big. I split 8s. Then split them again. The dealer had either a 4 or a 5 showing. Surely I was going to win all three hands. She took nine cards for another 21. Rena then said, "Now you can cry."
- Heath and I found a very attractive dealer standing behind an empty 3 Card Poker table. Despite never playing the game before, we sat down in front of beautiful Kelly. One of four Kellys working that day. Next thing we knew, Rooster, JoeSpeaker, Drizz, and some douchebag were at the same table.
I won a hand and yelled "DOMINATE!" loud enough for the entire casino to hear.
For the rest of her shift, Kelly would give us a flirty and taunting "DOMINAAAAATE" every time she won.
It was much better when she said it. So much better that after she felted me, Heath and I followed her to a Let it Ride table. And got dominated again. But we loved it.
~
"Guys, I forgot to bring a white shirt today. So I'll just go skins this game."
Everyone knows to bring one dark shirt and one white shirt. That's the way it's been ever since I started playing at this gym. Except for one douchebag. Fag.
Ah, the Dealertainers at the IP. Elvis could sing. Mariah had a decent ass. Janet Jackson could dance.
But Freddy Mercury? He had it all.
The Bracelet and I got to see him up close and personal while we played roulette. He sang for and to us. At one point, he did a slide along the bank of machines. As he leaned his head back to give us a wink, he knocked his head on a monitor. But he kept singing and dancing. And touching us inappropriately. No homo. OK. Total homo.
~
I had a great time seeing and meeting you all. And congrats to Gracie and SSP!
My liver and lungs are still recovering. It probably doesn't help that I caught the bird flu or ebola virus at the IP the first night.
I have just one regret. It's that for the first time in a decade, I didn't make it to a strip club.
But then again, this post woulda been about another kind of ballin'
HOLLA!
~
My first game I was on smokin'. I didn't miss a shot.
The first person I spoke with upon landing in Vegas was the Rooster. We met up at the Geisha bar then went to Casa Fuente for a smoke and the Bears-Saints game. I had a delicious Casa Fuente Belicoso Fina. The shop only sells Arturo Fuente cigars, with Casa Fuente being the house blend. You can only purchase the Casa Fuente line at the shop at Caesar's. It was a big peppery smoke with a good draw and nice long ash.
As a bonus, we were served 2 for 1 drinks by some good looking ladies.
Rooster got their digits.
~
I got to the gym pretty early today. Worked on the J and things I wouldn't attempt in front of other people.
I enjoyed bouncing between my friends of 10+ years and the invisible Internet friends. But by cracky, the rajing solo was a blast. And very necessary. Some funny/interesting things went down. A few I might even tell you about. I spent a lot of solo time at -EV games I had never played before and in front of slot machines that had 4000 different ways to win. Always with a beer or glass of vodka in front of me.
~
My hot shooting continued into the second game. That's when I did a little heat check. Two times I pulled up at the three point line on fast breaks. Both times I missed.
En route to meeting up with Heath at a blackjack table I stopped at a craps table. There were three big boobied ladies at one end. And I loves me some craps.
One of the ladies hit point after point. I looked down at my checks and saw I was up a good amount. I pocketed what I started with and placed a large pass line bet. I used the rest to take max odds and bet on 6 and 8. She needed to hit a 10 for a nice payout.
No craps bad beat stories here. But you can figure out what happened.
~
Why does that guy always wear a LeBron jersey and Cavs shorts?
Yeah. I wore a suit all weekend. The same suit every day. I changed shirts and sometimes wore a tie. There were three times that I woke up in the suit. One time I still had the coat on.
After a legen.. wait for it.. dary run in January, my friends and I said that next trip we would wear suits one night the next trip. I went all the way by never taking it off.
During one of my solo runs, what I assumed to be an underage prostitute sat next to me at a slot machine. She admired my full windsor knot. So I taught her how to tie one herself. After ten minutes she figured it out. She said, "I've never actually tied a real knot with a necktie before." The $15 I won during those ten minutes should cover the dry cleaning bill.
~
Dan is a marathon runner who gets up and down the court quickly. He's just deadly on the fast break. But when the game slows down he's just lost. He doesn't when and how to move. Fucking waste of height and athleticism.
On the way to the IP from the Venetian, there was a guy carrying some purple tube who asked us "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?" We pointed him in the correct direction. He replied, "Thanks. I need to get there soon. My buddies are getting into a fight." He was 5'2" and 95 lbs. He must have had a steel cage match lined up against the O'Shea's midget.
We had a fairly large group (including Dr Chako, The Wife, and Alan) - our pace wasn't very brisk. But we found the little guy again. And once again asked "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?"
"Dude - it's still that way. And your friends are probably dead."
~
There's an old dude we play with who's completely clueless. His shot selection is horrible and his form is disgusting. But you know what? He actually hits a lot of shots.
Picture it. MGM Grand. 4:30am. It was Heath, BG, and me at a blackjack table. There was a crazy Asian kid in the first seat who didn't exactly play by the book. In fact, he probably has his own book. He hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 4. He doesn't split 8s. But he kept winning! It was just ridiculous. Or, ridicurous.
At one point, BG had the same hand as first base. 15 with the dealer showing a 6. BG said, "I'm doing what he's doing on this hand." The kid hit. BG one-upped him and doubled down. Sure enough, the two of them won. Absolutely fucking sick.
First Base: I think that's all for me guys. I'm leaving.
Me: But if you go you're gonna screw up the deck!
For an extra dollar, a bonus was payable to "colored" pairs. BG, sporting a Hitler moustache, said "they prefer African-American now," and I said, "if I show you a wedding picture, do I get paid 6-1?"
~
The worst player on the court is a trash talker. Nonstop chatter. You don't want him to get a block or steal, because he'll scream out "GET THAT SHIT OUTTA HERE!" He's 5'3" and I want to kick his ass.
A few things here.
- BG kept reminding Rena, our blackjack dealer, that she's "an awful, awful, human being."
- After a string of losing hands and pushes, I pretended to cry. Then came the hand that was gonna put me up big. I split 8s. Then split them again. The dealer had either a 4 or a 5 showing. Surely I was going to win all three hands. She took nine cards for another 21. Rena then said, "Now you can cry."
- Heath and I found a very attractive dealer standing behind an empty 3 Card Poker table. Despite never playing the game before, we sat down in front of beautiful Kelly. One of four Kellys working that day. Next thing we knew, Rooster, JoeSpeaker, Drizz, and some douchebag were at the same table.
I won a hand and yelled "DOMINATE!" loud enough for the entire casino to hear.
For the rest of her shift, Kelly would give us a flirty and taunting "DOMINAAAAATE" every time she won.
It was much better when she said it. So much better that after she felted me, Heath and I followed her to a Let it Ride table. And got dominated again. But we loved it.
~
"Guys, I forgot to bring a white shirt today. So I'll just go skins this game."
Everyone knows to bring one dark shirt and one white shirt. That's the way it's been ever since I started playing at this gym. Except for one douchebag. Fag.
Ah, the Dealertainers at the IP. Elvis could sing. Mariah had a decent ass. Janet Jackson could dance.
But Freddy Mercury? He had it all.
The Bracelet and I got to see him up close and personal while we played roulette. He sang for and to us. At one point, he did a slide along the bank of machines. As he leaned his head back to give us a wink, he knocked his head on a monitor. But he kept singing and dancing. And touching us inappropriately. No homo. OK. Total homo.
~
I had a great time seeing and meeting you all. And congrats to Gracie and SSP!
My liver and lungs are still recovering. It probably doesn't help that I caught the bird flu or ebola virus at the IP the first night.
I have just one regret. It's that for the first time in a decade, I didn't make it to a strip club.
But then again, this post woulda been about another kind of ballin'
HOLLA!
