Summit '08 is in the books. Ship it. I don't have the energy to do a proper write up, so here's are a few snippets from the weekend.
On the way down, Drizz and I stopped at Culver's for a quick bite. Upon placing my order, I was given unlucky order #13. I should've told Drizz to go ahead without me, continue on the Chicago, leave me behind because I was in for more than one form of hurt during the weekend. I was pretty much spot-on. Taking the Greyhound back to Minneapolis would've been the safer choice.
Not once, but twice I waited for Drizz to seek and play penny slots like the true addict he is. Only one of those was in a casino, you know, where he could win real money. The second time was at The Brat Stop outside of a Chicago, where the shitty slot win held "no cash value". He somehow walked away a $2 winner after winking at the busty barkeep, who was a woman.
I played poker in an actual casino during our one night in Milwaukee. Of course I was down a whole buy-in (nah doi) when I won most of my stack back on the very last hand against a guy that was in desperate need a of a voicebox. AA>bottom pair. We had a dealer that looked like the bastard child of Iggy and Corey Feldman, and the 1 seat had been there over 24 hours. Playing 3/6 limit hold 'em. I would've felt bad if not for that impressive stack of white chips. Those are $10 chips, right?
We apparently attended a Cubs game on Saturday. I was also told the Cubs won. Who knew? I remember drinking a lot of watery malt beverage on a rooftop patio, eating a killer spicey sausage(no homo), 1 and a half hamburgers(only half of the first one because I threw the rest of it out after drunkenly bringing it in the bathroom with me. Idiot) and walking more stairs than a drunk guy should. Also, I've never been more afraid of a random girl staring at me than I was at that game. That's why nobody saw me for more than 10 minutes at a time--it's tougher to eat a moving target. You see, I was afraid she would eat me if she caught up with me.
Enjoyed the hell out of the lesbo bar down the street from DP's. Not only did I drink some damn good Alpha King, but the owner gave DP carte blanche over almost the entire bar. That included that the arm-wrestling that DP and I tried to keep on the down-low, so the other guys wouldn't rag on us too much. The only thing that would've made us more homo at the point in the weekend is if we both went in to the bathroom to keep it a secret. In case you really want to know(you don't), our match stalemated. That's probably the only competition I didn't fail at the entire weekend.
Speaking of failure, I lost not one, not two, but three consecutive $20 games of darts that same night. The first one Joaquin and I had no chance, mostly because he could barely see straight, let alone hit a small target with pinpoint accuracy. I chalked the 2nd and 3rd were just bad luck because Drizz was playing out of his fucking mind. Triple 20, double 13 to win it? Drizz would hit it. 5 bullseyes in a row? Oh, you're fucking right drizz hit it. It wasn't tell the next day that Drizz let slip that he's played competitive tournament darts, that a-hole. Obviously he didn't mention that while we were playing. A-hole. I guess he made up for it by not making me drive either way.
I'm pretty sure Kent hugged me on Saturday night, but I don't know exactly why. Anyone?
I also lost $40 playing poker. Had we played more than just a few hours on Friday afternoon, I assure you I would've lost more.
Wait a minute. I ate 4 fast food meals over the course of the weekend and I lost every damn thing I bet on--I now know what it feels like to be Grubby, albeit on a much smaller scale.
My steam, it's gone. I'm sure I have more stories in my head somewhere. Now I have to find something to do to make it look like I'm working the rest of the afternoon.