The Main Cage

The blinking red light of doom on my Blackberry cut through the darkened room like a lighthouse. I peeled myself out of bed and trepidatiously checked it. It was from WonderWife™: Call me when you wake up re: your debit card.

These are not the words one wants to read upon first waking up when you’re on a guys’ weekend in Vegas.

I called my wife, who had spent the better part of the morning besieged with calls from the bank. My account had been frozen. She was given a run down of the problem—there were a few withdrawals made in Las Vegas, but the correct pin number was used.

“My husband is in Vegas right now, so I’m sure everything’s okay,” she told the bank rep. “You can unfreeze the account.”

“But there’s some suspicious activity on the account,” the bank rep replied. “An attempt was made to go over the limit and usually customers know the daily limit on the account. The transaction in question was from a machine called ‘the main cage.’”

“That was in a casino!” I interjected as WW™ told me the story.

“Sure it was,” she said slyly.

The bank rep told WW™ the amount I was trying to take out. I imagine her jaw hit the floor.

“Um, you better keep that freeze on the account,” she told him. “I don’t know what the hell is going on out there.”

As she was telling me this, I had already figured out the problem.

“Last night Sam left his ATM card at the hotel, so instead of him having to fight traffic all the way back up the Strip, I was attempting to float him a loan,” I explained.

“Uh huh,” she said.

Then there was a pause.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Today There Are More Important Things Than Blogging

I’m not going to write a blog post today.

There are more pressing things at hand. Like driving through the desert to a neon-lit oasis where gambling is permitted, alcohol flows like wine and where the beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano.

I am embarking on what will likely the last bachelor party I’ll ever attend. One of my last single buddies is getting married, so my merry band of idiot friends and I are once again on our way to Vegas.

A few months ago, I asked the groom if there were any plans for a bachelor party. I was aghast when he said there were none and offered to help plan it. (I was made for organizing stuff like this—especially Vegas.) Now after a couple of months of internet research, phone calls, confirmation numbers, dinner reservations and emails, it’s finally here.

I used to go to Vegas every six to nine months.

It’s been three years since I was last there.

I absolutely love Vegas.

I love my buddy.

I can’t wait to celebrate.

And this is why there will be no blog post today.

Table Scraps Volume #3: Cooking & Movies as Gambling

There are so many little pieces of ideas that aren't quite enough for a full post. Seeing as being "green" is trendy these days, I like to recycle them every once in a while in a thing that I call Table Scraps.


I love to cook, though these days I don't do it very often. But when I do, I am not only compelled to tell people that I've cooked a meal, but also what I've cooked and how. I don't know why I do this. Conversing with me should not be like reading a menu. I'm confident that people don't care that the other night I made ahi tuna seared in sesame oil with edemame and garlic sautéed broccoli... (See, I'm doing it again.)

I know all of this, yet I pathologically keep doing it. Maybe it's because I watch too much Food Network, and have been conditioned by the chef/hosts to explain everything I do in the kitchen. Or maybe it's just a lame attempt to get attention by making something ordinary, like cooking food, seem extraordinary.

_______________________________

Being a fan of blockbuster movies is a lot like going to Vegas. Sometimes you’re going to win and sometimes you’re going to lose. The key is that you have to set it in your mind that you're going to walk away a loser. The hope is always that you’ll win, but more often than not, the house will take your money. Something very important to remember with the summer movie season fast approaching.


You may have noticed that I've started Tweeting. Yes, I know that I've said it a few times that I didn't have time for Twitter, but it's hard to be geeky and ignore something that's infiltrated pop culture to the degree that Twitter has. I've never claimed to be anything more than a mindless follower. And speaking of following...why don't you head on over there and become one of mine?

Look What I Found in the Desert

It was a bright and sunny Friday morning, filled with promise, as I headed out to Vegas. (Which, incidentally, is how every trip to Vegas begins.) At a stop for gas, I happened across two new products. I had two friends with me, who also sampled the goods.


A&W / SUNKIST FLOATS
We weren’t sure if we should have felt excited or tentative about this discovery. A good root beer float is one of my favorite things in the world, but would a shelf-stable variety in a glass bottle measure up? I grabbed the A&W and Scotty grabbed the Sunkist. At over 200 calories a piece, they aren’t health food. But hey, we were on vacation so it doesn’t count.



The A&W Float wasn’t bad. It has a much thinner consistency than a real float would, but it did have a good root beer taste. It was sweet and went down easily. Almost too easily because it was gone after only a few sips.


The Sunkist didn’t fare as well. It was super sweet…almost too sweet to drink. You know how sweet orange soda is by itself? Well, multiply that by around 4 or 5 and you’ve got the idea. I could stand it more than Scotty, who struggled to finish it all the while cursing that he picked the wrong one.

An interesting concept, but I wouldn’t buy them again. I have a pretty high threshold for sweet, but these were off the charts. The root beer was easier to take than the Sunkist, but if you don’t like super sweet things, these bottles should be avoided. Plus, they really aren’t worth it considering how bad for you they are.


CHOCOLATE SKITTLES


Ah good ol’ Skittles. Second cousin to both M&M’s and Starburst. Despite me never actually see anyone buying or eating Skittles, they somehow manage to remain popular enough to offer up new varieties every once in a while. Derek, Scotty and I were at first intrigued by the small bag of Chocolate Mix Skittles, but sampling the goodies inside splintered our opinions and triggered a debate over what constitutes real chocolate.

How you will feel about Chocolate Skittles depends on how you feel about Tootsie Rolls. I love Tootsie Rolls. Could eat them all day. My friends, on the other hand, don’t like ‘em and don’t think they are in any way shape or form chocolate or chocolate flavored. Been friends for years and never knew they were chocolate purists. Needless to say, Derek and Scotty gave Chocolate Skittles a big thumbs down. Me? Overall I liked them. Some were better than others. Here’s the rundown of the five new flavors:

S’mores / Chocolate Caramel – These two are lumped together because they pretty much tasted the same. They each have a mild chocolate flavor with a hint of something behind it. I couldn’t tell the difference between the supposed graham cracker or caramel taste.

Chocolate Pudding – A very slight chocolate flavor. Nothing special but tasty.

Vanilla – Why these are included in a bag called “Chocolate Mix”, I will never know. They taste like a less waxy version of vanilla Tootsie Rolls, which is to say that they have that artificial vanilla thing happening, but I liked ‘em.

Brownie Batter – Okay, here we go. These guys were the best of the bag, having the strongest and best chocolate flavor. Like with Vanilla, they come very close to the flavor of a Tootsie Roll, but with a slightly chewier consistency. I loved these. If they sold bags of just brownie batter Skittles, I would become very fat.



It’s always nice to begin a debauchery-filled weekend with lots of sugar. But now I could just use some sleep.