Monday morning I slipped out without waking the warthog to do some gambling in my jammies and find a decent hot chocolate after a whole previous day of gambling euphoria I lost exactly $5. Clearly Vegas needed more of this idiot’s money.
Sunday began in the spacious Imperial Palace sports book which resembles more of a northern dimly lit bar versus the glitz and glamour of the Vegas strip. But, we call it home for its tolerance toward our degenerate poker playing group to drink (two liters of water) and shout at the various TVs freely when our perfectly handicapped four team parlays go down the tube. After having to wager on the Cowboys and Yankees due to my lost prop bets, I thought I’d go all the way with the fanboi sport fan picks and take Duke and North Carolina to win the Final Four in 2008.
After plopping down a significant wager on the Vikes and five or six parlays, I took my seat with BG and The Bracelet to watch my parlay fall one by one in slow motion during the morning games. At least the all meat pizza rocked despite my stomach still doing flips from the near handle of Cap’n I consumed at the Venetian. With the morning game out of the way, it was time for my Vikes to dominate the 49ers and pull me close to even for the day with one live ticket left:
Seattle -7.5 and Browns -3.
Seattle locked it up early, but the Browns game would flip-flop more then a presidential candidate at a $10,000 a plate fundraiser. They win! They kick a fuckin field goal?!?!?! They recover an onside kick and run it back! They’re going to down the ball…. Oh wait he’s still running, and running, RUN FORREST RUN!!! TOUCHDOWN!!! There may have been grown men dancing and cheering like Jessica Alba just ran through the sportsbook naked holding pitchers of beer.
Bonus money is the sweetest money and after my gallon of water and green tea it was time to start up some real gambling as I set out to play SERIOUS POKER with the very sexy BWOP and Not-so-fat F-Train who looked like he did a thousand sit ups a day to get back to his dollar bill weight. Mixed game, anything non hold em would suffice, Mirage? Natch. TI? Smoove new room but no. Venetian? Mixed game not going. Ugh. Now my feet were started to get heavy as all I wanted was sit down and give away money so the executive decision was made to get dropped off at the IP as they headed down to the Bellagio. Seat open at Pai Gow? Would I like to play? Sure but no drinking yet. Seated with Speaker, Garth, Garth’s lovely girlfriend Gretchen, Betty Underground minus ½ cup size but we wouldn’t hold that against her as she looks great, and the Pai Gow Princess Maigrey drinking would need to start again.
“I’ll just have what they’re having” as the chest sparkles rang out from the waitresses uniform. A Newcastle was placed in front of me and for some reason I felt compelled to grab a fresh drink with every passing. “You have to finish that one before you get a new one!” as I’d chug down the drinks and hand it off as the other hand deftly grabbed a full one.
After nearly thirty minutes of trying to convince the first dealer to smile were rebuffed like my attempts to get laid in high school. SERIOUS PAI GOW! Thankfully the Great Stone Wall of China left and we continued our good time with the pit bosses and dealers afterwards despite losing all the chips in front of me after a few hours and having to defer an invite to rejoin F-Train and BWOP at the Wynn to Betty “I don’t think he’s in shape to do that” it was time to play some craps and with a vacant table we continued our roaming party with the dice. With Speaker soft as a down comforter tosses continued, I had my fire bet out and licking my chops at the 25-1 odds if another point was rolled. My make-an-ass-out-of-myself meter hit a weekend high when a hard eight was rolled when I did some white-boy touchdown dance as our end of the table was suddenly flush with cash.
But as we deferred the dice to the other end not one point was made, and with the Nordic winds of change the phones came out to check the time and hunger pangs overtook the needs to bet the yo and a crusty potato/cheese/egg/meat skillet hit the spot to close up day three in wonderland.
Monday morning I’d wake up too early and decent from the Flamingo in search of breaking even for the weekend in my jammies but end up giving away a few car payments instead as I’ll wrap this up tomorrow with a few regrets about people I missed at the gathering.
Thanks for dropping by, now if you are in need of a song to sing along with tonight as I’m sure Dr. Chako’s wife will be doing during every Vikes touchdown, here you go. SKOL VIKINGS LETS GO!!!
Skol Vikings! Let's win this game
Skol Vikings! Honor your name
Go get that first down
Then get a touchdown
Rock 'em, sock 'em, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT! FIGHT!
Go Vikings, run up the score, you'll hear us yell for more!
V-I-K-I-N-G-S
Skol Vikings, let's go!
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