WPBT 2011: Hold On

Ah yes, it's Carnie, Wendy, and Chynna before she became a WWF wrestler, Playboy model, and porn star (don't look up the last one you may need a Sham-wow full of industral-grade bleach to wash those images away.




Good morning for one last time before the annual WPBT takes over Las Vegas trip, like the Muppets Take Manhattan only smaller buildings and more drinking.  Not sure if I'll ever "mature" as the gray stubble shows up in my bathroom mirror more often these days, but that's just an age thing and cannot be stop unless I find Jean Claude Van-Damme's time machine and tell my 16 year old self to buy some Apple stock and stop drinking tequila sunrises during parties because its not attacting the ladies like he thinks it is.

Can you tell I haven't slept much?  Excellent, we can be friends again.

To see the friends that I hold most dear that I can't hold since they are selfish enough to live in far away lands like Milwaukee, Greenville, foreign countries such as California, and something called Can-a-da.  Never was good at geography, advanced calculus, or making pie crust.  We will rock the town once again, to cheer those running, whether it be with 40,000 others in the Las Vegas half-marathon, or from the police after trying to motorboat the Eastern Bloc tall blonde pai gow dealer at 2am from the Gold Coast who doubles as a high-end escort that specializes in something called Nipple Eroticism. 

Yes, kids it time to take down the cowboys at the table, cheer for Whiplash, and try to pack years of friendship into four days of degeneracy.  My plane touches down around six tomorrow night, and once again I hope to be seated in first class making my money back on the free libations trying to keep up with the sloshed housewive of a car tire baron that does nothing but watch Ren and Stimpy re-runs and yells PAI GOW at random times.

Hold on for one more day.

WPBT Time 2011: The Race for the Stella

Wasn't Kim Karadishan still a blushing bride on Sept. 15th?

My story of busy, busy, busy do not need to be retold but the announcement of the WPBT and my immediate if not sooner acceptance to subject myself to good food, better friends, and comfy wheelchairs took place nearly three months ago.

This space along with getting back to the gym and curing stupidity will all happen as soon as my college agrees that I rule and hands over that piece of paper that signifies that I can in fact sink 10 straight beer pong shots while completing the end-year journal entries for a parent and a foreign subsidiary that uses a different currency.

Monte Carlo will be home base this year as they blessed me with a redonkulous rate thanks to the birthday efforts of me, Otis, GRob, F-Train, Doc Jeff, and Absinthetics around of table of Pai Gow betting some chips over the course of several hours upon lifting our collective heads off the felt notices only a couple of guys from Brooklyn playing blackjack on a nearby table and vacuum cleaners sucking up the lost souls.

This year's activites:  Golf, Food (off strip for the first time ever), Poker, Pai Gow, Drinks, Beer, More Beer, if I can find it the finish line for the Las Vegas half marathon to hand out well-deserved beers to WPBT'ers and a potential future in-law as my brother's girlfriend's brother mentioned to me that he is running with the chick that did her last half marathon in 1:11.  Oh dear.

See you in five days.

WPBT 2010: A question

Shock and awe.

Two things that kick start a day better than any RockStar/Red Bull/NoS/Triple Cap-Low Fat-Double McTwist.

Yes the Vikings won last night, yes I am happy as a fan and it is with hope that Winfield got the game ball for shutting down Vick in the first half.

But, the fandom of rabidly rooting for the Purple was put away like Favre's noodle several games ago before some supreme being decided that this once proud team in August needed a second helping of humility by popping the bubble and sending a Minnesota style blizzard to Philly with in three weeks. 

The football game wasn't the shock and awe and nor did that happen after the lights went out with a couple in their mid-30s going to sleep.   That was two nights ago.  No, the shocker (also not used) was my wife's annual planning of our Spring Break trip.  Since she has worked for a school district ever since I got attached to the short softball player with great legs coming thru her grey St. Cloud State mesh shorts, Spring Break has been the time to take a vacation.  Whether its a couple of nights up in Duluth, across the border for an indoor water park at Wisconsin Dells, or the most popular stop:  Las Vegas.

While the wife thru out Atlantis in the Bahamas a few times and looking at the price tags that would burn the remainder of my depleted bankroll that "BET MORE" during the WPBT got (yes more WPBT stories to come, sorry but there has been Captain to drink, sledding to do, and kids to unwrap presents with stories about getting 86'd at Sherwood Forest and chopping up the WPBT tourney will need to wait).  Aside from winning a PCA ticket like some Hollyweird blondes did (congrats again Change!!) that would be out and set aside for a bucket list or save for a year type thing. 

The thought of going did appeal to me especially with the frozen wasteland I'll be gazing into for the next four months, its easy to picture oneself sipping on a Mai Tai while watching bronzed asses bounce by and a symphony of waves crashing live instead on an iTunes playlist.  Wife turned her full attention towards going to Vegas of which got an reaction out of me that was nothing short of shock and awe.

I didn't immediately want to go.  In fact I actually argued against the idea.

BAD DEGEN BAD!

This last WPBT trip ruined the Vegas experience for me.  It was like the best sex with the hottest partner you could ever imagine and then turning to your fleshlight stroker with Anal Queens 15 in the background and just turning over to go to bed.  The things I got to do on that trip three weeks ago will never happen again for mostly monetary reasons, but certainly the luck of each scene playing out to its perfection.  The dinner, The Crowes (which I have a bottle of Captain waiting this weekend to write it up properly minus embarrassing stories which will remain in the minds of those who attended), The wink of the leftover Asian hooker at 5am (not found at a Steel Panther concert), Betting without concern of losses, The Sunday football games, The flight of a golf ball heading towards Red Rock national park, The WPBT tournament run, The birthday Pai Gow binge, The first class seat, and the perfect mix of degenerates and professionals one could possibly gather.

How do I top that?

Or perhaps how do I not try to top that and enjoy the moment with the love of my life while laying out at the MGM Grand pool with an overpriced mixed drink in hand?

Work (recaps not spreadsheets) and online poker funds acquired via recent strong lucky play will cover the trip's cost but it won't be the same.  Maybe I just answered my question, different but same, after all there are other ways to reach euphoria than ordering your sixth round of drinks off the 61 year old former Miss Golden Gate Imperial Palace waitress who you genuinely questioned the sustainability of her out of place looking fake tits and if they would make it back for round seven after five hours of getting cold decked playing Pai Gow dealt by a former North Korean water torture specialist named Kim. 

I don't doubt I'll have a great time with the wife, but my hesitation about going back to Vegas was nothing short of eye-opening.