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Friday, August 19, 2005

Back 

In the house. Returned from Vegas yesterday simulataneously better for the time away and worse for wear. Basically, I needed break like nobody's business, though we probably spent a day too long there and I paid for it. Literally. Aside from blackjack, the gambling was unkind to me. The sportsbook was definitely the most irritating. I'm sure I've said before that betting on baseball is a crapshoot, but there's something about Las Vegas that makes you toss your better judgement into the wind. It's like a contact high. You step into a casino and BOOM! You're buzzed. Anyway, I knew I should've taken the sure thing in my parlay by picking Atlanta and Tim Hudson to beat the minor league Dodgers rather than risk it with Houston (even though Roy Oswalt was pitching and they were at home) against flame-throwing Carlos Zambrano and the stupid Cubs. That one burned me up. And after the first two days, I didn't have either the stones nor the pockets to step up to the craps table again. Some of you know Brent. He finished over two grand ahead. The craps tables were generous to him.

But again, a fun trip. Saw Blue Man Group which defies description. Anyone who has seen it can understand where I'm coming from. Basically, it's a show of whimsy. Intelligent whimsy. Whimsy with a good beat. Like nothing I've ever seen before and completely original. Production value like crazy bananas, too. Unfortunately, this coincided with my one night of actual drinking which, oddly enough, took place in the afternoon where I had sat down to some 2-4 poker and buddied up with a couple of 21 year-olds, one of which had never been to Vegas before. They couldn't get over the fact that cocktail waitresses would bring you any drink you wanted and you only had to tip a dollar. So... Jaegger shots it was. By the time Blue Man had ended that night, I had a splitting headache and certainly felt queezy. Rolled into the gift shop at New York New York, where we were staying (they have a lousy pool area, by the way, and perhaps the most pathetic sports book on the strip, bit top notch most everywhere else), at about 1 a.m. and the girl behind the counter greeted us with a "good morning." Needless to say, that completely messed me up. In Vegas you're constantly over-tired and if you're not then you didn't do Vegas correctly. The queeziness unfortunately soured a nice steak dinner over at Luxor Steakhouse, which, by all accounts, wasn't that special. Certainly nowhere near the level of Morton's.

And true to the last few trips I've taken out of LA, I meet someone on my last night in town who is also leaving for the other side of the country the next day. And that person will like me back and they'll actually ask me for a phone number or email address and we'll both regret not having met each other earlier. This is three times in a row this has happened. Some one is playing a joke on me. Clearly, I should be living in New York.

Alas, these last two weeks have zoomed by far too quickly. I trudge back into the salt mines on Monday. I'm less than excited about it. Work is work, though. I think I'll hit the beach today.

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