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.
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.
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?
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.