Even though I won't be jumping on a plane and headed to Vegas this go 'round, I thought--since I have nothing to say, poker-wise--that I'd repost something I wrote after returning from Vegas this time last year.

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Oh Vegas, how I love thee. Here, won't you let me count the ways?

I love the lights, and all the flashy pretty signs.

I love the clang of the coin hopper as it empties with clink after continuous clink into the coin bin, before they changed to mainly ticket based games, of course.

I love the riffling sounds that greets you entering the poker room at MGM.

I love going to bed at sun up, and waking up early enough to hit a breakfast buffet.

I love it when the floors are slippery enough to cause a guy to throw his beer into his own face.

I love that you can make up stories about who you are, where you're from, and what you do, and nobody even questions that you're a nougat farmer from Washington, Minnesota.

I love that I can google "nougat" using the shoddy hotel wifi.

I love watching old fogeys piss away their social security on the Wheel of Fortune slots.

I love that you can break away from the group for hours on end, and nobody questions where you were, why you smell like stripper, and why your upper lip is full of glitter. And how you came back with more money than you left your room with, without hitting an ATM or gambling.

I love that you can meet up with people from around the country, and it feels like you've never missed a beat.

I love that you can walk around with wrap-around sunglasses inside, 24 hours a day, and nobody questions you or looks at you weird.

I love paying $11 for a redbull/vodka, because everybody knows that Vegas Redbull is the good shit, and a necessity to survival. It's also the cause of the late morning breakfast buffet rush.

I love the abundance of gorgeous latina women.

I love that everybody is there for different reasons. There's the guy with glazed eyes pulling the slot arm at 5am in the morning, there's that group of college kids on break playing blackjack and drinking like it'll be illegal come sun up, and then there's the douche that spends more money on beer than he ever will on -Ev games.

I love the inbound passenger's unbridled enthusiasm as the disembark the plane, and I even love the dejected look on 99% of those that are outbound.

I love that there's always something to do at any time, day or night, but I also love walking the streets early in the morning; the time of day that only old people and those that are still out from the night before are out of their hotel room, and the city feels like it belongs to only me.

I love being able to walk from a dingy castle, past women dancing on the bar, and end up doing shots of chilled vodka in an Irish pub in New York City, and all of that only takes 10 minutes.

I love that bottled water and gatorade are both $4 a bottle, but a slice of cheese pizza the size of my head is only $3.50. The food must be made on site, the liquids shipped in from a deep-cut Himlayan valley.

I love that I still have no clue how to get to the Excalibur poker room in an efficient manner.

I love that I can carry my beer anywhere without getting tackled by a police officer or pestered by a hobo for just one sip.

I even love porn slappers