Home > Leftovers > To Rodger at O'Sheas, the Bhuddist Monk and David Hasselhoff: thanks for the Vegas memories

To Rodger at O'Sheas, the Bhuddist Monk and David Hasselhoff: thanks for the Vegas memories

During my last post, I mentioned that although seeing sweet, sweet Eva Longoria was the high point of my most recent trip to Vegas, it was by no means the only memorable event of the week. So, here’s a run down of other sights and sounds from Vegas:

  • I have a new game that we all can play: Name That (Worst) Tune (to Play in a Casino). On Monday morning, my homey James and I are sitting in Caesar’s enjoying a nice biscuit and OJ — at a scant $20 per person — when we hear the song “Bad Day” by Daniel Powter playing on the casino floor. Our immediate thought: what a horrible song for a casino. What could possibly be worse? Thus far, only “Loser” by Beck comes close. And “Blame It on the Rain” by Milli Vanilli. Because a) they suck, b) it allows you to blame gambling losses on a weather phenomenon, and c) they really suck. Feel free to submit others.
  • James noted that he heard “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw once a day in the casino. What a GREAT song for gamblers. Sure, you’re losing your retirement or kid’s college fund. But, you gotta live for today, you dumb bastard. Faith Hill’s hubby said so. Now, go get another $200 out of the cash machine (with only a $10 surcharge). Vegas…. it’s faaaaantastic.
  • I saw a Bhuddist monk buying a shot glass in the airport before my return flight. Seriously.
  • On Sunday night (aka, Apacalypto, part deux) I saw a girl in a Louis Vuitton store trying to buy a handbag that was worth the GNP of Botswana. And how do I describe her appearance: she had the build of Queen Latifah, but she was wearing an outfit tailored for Lil’ Kim. I haven’t seen that many rolls since my last trip to Golden Corral. Thank you! Thank you! And now welcome to the stage… Kajagoogoo!
  • Upon arrival at the airport, I saw that David Hasselhoff was appearing in the Producers in Vegas. I made a mental note that some sportswriter in town for the NBA All-Star game would somehow draw an analogy between the badness of the ‘hoff to the overall debauchery of the city. When I returned home, I opened my Sports Illustrated and the venerable Rick Reilly had proved me right in his increasingly tedious back page column . Damn Rick, what’s it like to phone it in every other week. You running for president next?
  • I saw a little of the World Series of Poker on ESPN while in a casino. And yes, that’s the definition of overkill. Anyway, they were profiling Mike “The Mouth” Matusow. Is it just me, or does he look like he’s a quarter chromosome away from mildly retarded? Pardon me Jesus for saying that, but it’s true. Isn’t it?
  • My comrades and I went to O’Sheas casino next to the Flamingo, as we were trying to find some cheaper blackjack tables. We walked past the poker room, which was completely empty at 10:30 on Monday night. We asked the very bored poker attendant, Rodger, if we could crank up a game. He practically jumped behind the table and started dealing. We went with $1/$2 blinds and a $50 buy-in. The kind of stakes you can play for on a Friday night in the suburbs. And Rodger even helped a bunch of use newbies learn how to play Texas Hold ‘Em with the big boys.
  • During said poker game, we were joined by some guy from the Bronx. He was intense. When I raised, holding a full house on the table before the river, he stared me down. I smiled and waved. He folded. I have an AWFUL poker face.

Hell, that’s all I can think of right now. So, all in all, a nice trip to Vegas. How do I know? I’m still tired.

Categories: Leftovers

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