…and boy are my legs tired. No joke, living a commuter existence means that the moderate amount of walking done in Vegas resulted in achy legs. Luckily, that’s one of only a few complaints from the conference trip to Vegas, and the rest are just the general, run of the mill travel bellyaches. One particularly sad commentary of this American life: three out of four flights, a show, and a shuttle ride, my adjacent seat partners was orca fat. I am by no means thin and, excluding one jack-ace of a smelly douche at the only show I partook, all were nice and cognizant of their size. There was an equitable sharing of space usually, but it still required some craning on my part. Wow, I sound like such a whiny schmuck.

OK, first the card connection: I met PunkRockPaint. The PunkRockPaint of http://punkrockpaint.blogspot.com/ fame. Sorry for the http address, but WordPress doesn’t want to hyperlink right now. (corrected)
If you don’t know T’s work at PunkRockPaint, then I don’t know what you’re doing with your blog reading life. The guy makes amazing custom cards and graphics work, and get this, he does most of it using MS Paint. His Lost Retro card set is epic…check it out - http://punkrockpaint.blogspot.com/2009/07/lost-retro-baseball-card-gallery.html
To the right, you can see one of my favorites from the set, based on the Denny’s holographic cards from the 90′s.
You can read about our completely randome, LOTR slot machine meeting on his blog, as he’s described it better than I can. What a lucky coincidence to look over and see a username that’s also the name of one of your favorite blogs!
Now, the one unique wrinkle I can add to the story: after PunkRockPaint’s lovely girlfriend and her mother arrive to whisk away the artiste, I cash out my nice slot machine win and head toward the bill breaker machine. Two guys, playing adjacent LOTR machines, stop me to ask who I was talking to. Apparently, they overhead me complimenting Paint’s work to his girlfriend, leading to me stating earnestly that it was a pleasant surprise to meet the famous PRP. The guys wanted to know the identity of the celebrity that I had just met (they’re words). I explained that PRP is a world famous blogger and artist, they asked me if I was someone (a poor choice of a question in my opinion), and I had to laugh. No, I’m just the guy who got lucky with a slot machine to get to meet a fellow blogger.
T, great meeting you…now, make a set for us to buy!
—
Two non-sports, non-blogging Vegas notes:
First, poker – 1-2 NL cash games, about 8 hours total, down about $30, but only after a bad call costed me about 300. Tournaments, played two, one at Caesars and one at the Venetian. Final tabled both, but only cashed in the Venetian. Net win, 150, total time, nine hours. If I had to do it over, I’d spend all my time at the cash game. If you’re a tight smart player and pick your spots, even without catching card you can be a profitable player at both Caesars and Venetian.
Second, the best promotion ever is the Binion’s opportunity to take a photograph with one million dollars. The results of the free portraits must result in epic amounts of unintentional humor: tourists, alcohol, cameras…this should be a FailBlog affiliate – Not Having Fun photo site. Anyway, I waited the requisite 30 minutes, walked over to the desk where the processed photos were waiting. In the slot holding about 20 “single person” photos was this gem. I wanted to abandon my own big smile picture and grab this slice of grim Americana, but didn’t think it would be right to steal it. Foiled again by morals!
Do you think she was forced into posing by those crafty Binions marketers? Maybe she was desperate for the coupons that gave you something or other if you got the picture? Maybe it was a prop bet?
I like to think that she’s on the trip on her soon-to-be ex-husband’s dime after he something or othered. She wanted proof of this spiteful sojourn, but, surrounded by lights, chimes, dings, and a flash, she realizes that her revenge is as elusive as a jackpot. She is tired. She wants to sit somewhere outside, exposed in the sun, feeling the prickles of sweat as her pale skin burns. She doesn’t wait for the picture; she’s gone.
Or some crap like that – who cares, cause it’s a brilliant picture.