Phew. Now that I've finally recovered from last weekend, you want me to do what? Go to Vegas? Are you mental?

Oh, right, you are. I know you people.

Last weekend was fun, though the drive up and back--8+ hours, total--is the most draining part. Well, up isn't so bad. We stopped at Fitger's Brewhouse and were able to break up the drive with a pint(IPA for me, pale for the lady), some lunch and a growler or two for the road. Not a bad way to start the trip.

Saturday night, for me, was hilarious. I sat at the back for the bar all night, watching a room full of guys try to hit on a band full of lesbians. I'm not sure what it is deep inside the male brain that says "Hey, I could change her", but it was there ten-fold on Saturday night.

Listen, guys, I understand that general idea behind hitting on an attractive girl--a girl that just so happens to enjoy being uvula deep in box--is sound, in principle. I also understand that there's some fucked-up badge-of-honor in being the Great White Lesbian-Converting Hope, but do you have any idea what you'd be getting yourself into should you do the unthinkable and dream that impossible dream? I contest that you do not.

Let's imagine for a second that you have this incredible gift--a gift that no man before you has ever possessed--that allows you to change a full-fledged, card-carrying member of the lesbian militia into a non-lesbian, or hell, even half lesbian. That's great, but now what? Whatever shall you do with this girl, a girl that, in her past has willingly entered a relationship that effectively doubles the amount of estrogen(or as I like to call it "crazy juice") in a room at any given time? You do not want that kind or amount of crazy in your life. What would cause you to do that to yourself?

Oh, right, booze and poon. Never mind. I guess I can only do so much. Consider this your one and only warning.

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The drive home from Lutsen, in a nutshell, sucked. Not only did I want to shoot an RPG through every billboard along I35 proclaiming "Even your idiot child is a blessing!", or "Life begins when two morons get drunk and fuck!"(I might be paraphrasing, but close enough), but it also started snowing just south of Duluth.

Oof dah.

Even the most measly of snowstorms gives a Minnesohtan the right to proclaim that they know how to drive in said snowstorm, when the exact opposite is true.

"SLOW DOWN", they say.

Fuck those people. Those people are the same people that haven't bought new tires in 5 years, then wonder why they're sliding all over the freaking road, and then have the audacity to believe that someone going over 45mph are the ones being unsafe. Fuck 'em in the ear! Sorry, I digress.

This trip to Vegas could not come at a better time for me. Not that I need a vacation, seeing as I just got back from one, but it's supposed to be 1°F here today. I need to get out of Minnesota.

I arrive at 11:06pm on Thursday night, and I fully expect the welcoming committee to be propped at the Geisha bar when I check in. True, I'm sure the same people would be camped there regardless of my time of arrival, or even if I was going to Vegas, but please just let me believe they're waiting for me.

Yeah, Chad, now who's being delusional?

Still me?

That is correct.

The only plan for me so far is to hit up the Yardhouse on Friday afternoon. Right now I've got a definitely in from Drizz, and a probably from DP. That's cool, I don't need you people anyhow. Hold on, I have something in my eyegina.

I thought about playing in the tourney on Saturday, but the last time I tried that I crashed before the 1st break and afterward I felt terrible because I'd just wasted $65 when I knew I was too hungover/tired to play. So, even though I have the money now (thank you, advertisers) I'm much more than content to railbird while enjoying a refreshing Fiji; the bottled water of the Gods of bottled water.

The best thing about these Vegas trips for me? There is so much stuff to choose from, but nobody is offended if you just want to rage solo for awhile. I intend to do some of that this trip.

I'll see you fuckers in 36 hours.

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!

The WBCOOP is an online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers.

Registration code: 224820

Has it been a year since I was kicked in the balls during the WBCOOP last year? Seems like only yesterday. I wish I could play in all the pre-Big Show tournaments, but on the 15th I'll be coming back from Vegas(Boo.), and on the 19th I'll be touring the Surly brewery with Drizz(teehee). At least I can still play in the Hi/Lo and NL Hold 'em Freerolls.

Oh happy day.

9 days, my friends. 9 days. Giddyup and giggity all at the same time.

Where to begin? How about some poker content? The hell I say! And we're off...

I deposited $50 way back in September with no false hope that I could turn that into a brazillion canadabucks. My 'bankroll' since that time has fluctuated between a mythical $10 and $250, and thank the lord almighty, our savior jesus christ for rakebake, because that's the only thing that's been keeping me afloat.

I can't say that I'm totally, IDK, BFF with poker again, but I can't say that I hate it. I can, however, say that I wish fantasy football would die in a fire. My entire season came down to--count them--one, two, three, four yards. What a waste of $50.

On Saturday night I had exactly $17 in my Full Tilt account. I also had about 10 beers in my belly, but that's not that important in the story. Or maybe it is. At any rate, there you go. I played a few mini buy-in tournaments without anything happening. I busted out 4th in a 1800pt Tier One SNG. After that I finished in the top three of another Tier One tourney, earning myself a pretty little peep.

There wasn't enough time left in the night to play a large MTT(I probably would've passed out in the 3rd hour), so I made what was a stupid drunken decision and turned that peep into a $410 win in a $26 45 person SNG. (I am indeed results oriented. So what?)

Yes. Me. I took first in a tournament. I realize that it was only a small SNG, but stop shitting in my cereal, would you? I deserve to be happy. Let me be happy. One note of poker advice from dear unkie Chad--it's so much easier to win a tournament when you're dealt AA heads up when the other person thinks their A10o is a monster. I shit you not.

Even though I'm so flush with cash now, I probably won't be playing poker in Vegas. Have you seen the kind of people that touch those casino chips? At the IP of all places? I'd almost rather roll around naked in a daycare during flu season than play poker at the IP.

Almost. (Fine, I'll take a seat over there. Now what?)

This Friday Molly and I are taking the long drive up to Lutsen, with a quick pit stop at Fitger's in Duluth on the way. Mmmmm...growley beer, winding, deserted roads after sunset--my favorite!

I'm a little disappointed, though, that I won't be snowboarding even one run while up at the largest "mountain" in the midwest. I may be stupid, but a $58 lift ticket for a resort that is only 25% open is ridiculous? Pass.

Friday night will be a little subdued, with just Molly, a jug of IPA, and I hanging out all night around a 20" tv and a gas fireplace. That's fine, because Saturday night is likely to get a wee stupid. You see, Molly has this sister. Said sister is a lesbian. Lesbians are crazy. Molly's sister is in a crazy lesbian band. Crazy lesbian band(Sick of Sarah--aw man, I just linked to a Myspace page. Kill me now) is playing at the bar/venue at Lutsen.

So, Saturday night it will be me, my girlfriend, and about 90 of her closest lesbian friends. I know you all want to be me, but I assure you that you do not.