Noooooooo!!!!

Would've been a royal pita having to click spoilers for everyone of those last batch of pics.

100. But cba to change it to fewer each time I want to check this thread. Luckily for 100 posts per page display it's just gone on to page 3 so loads quickly.

Seriously? It's just a click.

Then put the tags around a group of pics. I think that will still work.

Actually I think spoiler tags still load the images. That's why the browser knows how big the space is, and when you click it it becomes visible immediately.

Eh, I decided I don't like you guys enough to care about your ****ty internet connections. Pics ahoy!

Actually there might only be a couple tonight. This was supposed to be an uneventful day at work, then I was going to try and cook dinner tonight. I'm a ****ing mental case in the kitchen. Cooking gives me literal anxiety. If something goes even somewhat askew, I flip my **** and I can't take it. I found a super simple recipe on Reddit's /r/gifrecipes so I wanted to try it:

Direct link because 2p2 doesn't like gifs: http://i.imgur.com/NG8LVNZ.gifv

Unfortunately, my body had other ideas. I went to lunch at 12, and by 1-1:15, I knew something was off. I felt nauseated. I was sweating and simultaneously shaking uncontrollably. I probably had a fever. This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon. I realize, too, that my insurance just switched on July 1 so I had to research doctors and quick care centers that were in my new network. By about 2:30, I told the wife to forget about cooking. It just couldn't happen today. I then went to the men's room, and made myself vomit.

Maybe I'm alone in this, but I hate that persistent feeling of nausea that lingers - you know your body is prepping to do something nasty soon, but it's going to stick around for a few hours before anything is expelled with the force of a rocket launcher. I prefer the sorority girl-style two fingers down the throat. Make that **** happen and move on with your life. Unfortunately, it wasn't until the deed was done that I realized I probably should have knelt in front of the john instead of standing up. This splash-back is kinda gross. I sheepishly call facilities and ask them to clean the stall, then let the boss know I'd be heading out.

I got home and checked - fever of 102.1. Gross. It's down now to about 101.1, but that's still higher than I want. Maybe I can punt another sick day and miss tomorrow, but that might **** up my weekend plans.

I haven't felt this sick since the last time the (then girlfriend, now) wife and I went to Big Bear Lake in California. It's sort of our de facto vacation spot when we can actually take a real vacation (and not a family obligation vacation). We left on a Thursday night to give ourselves a full three day weekend. But I was out of my mind sick. I never should have been allowed to drive, but I'm stubborn as hell and drove the entire way, semi-hallucinating, wondering if I'll have to pull over to puke. Really gross stuff.

When we finally got to the cabin, I realize that I forgot to bring a bathing suit. But maybe that's not such a bad thing, since this was waiting for us:



I should point out that this was mid-May. Mother's Day weekend, if I'm not mistaken. Of course, if I forgot a bathing suit, I certainly didn't have a sweatshirt or long pants. The wife took the car out to the local K-Mart and picked up some supplies, I did the ol' sorority girl trick and passed out at roughly 8:30 to the sound of the Odd Couple sit com reboot (is that still on the air?).

That Friday was a spectacular day. It was the day my wife received her offer to work at her current law firm. She initially went to law school to work for either the district attorney or public defender. She just wanted to continue being a public servant and to work within the county. Unfortunately, when she applied to the DA's office, they rejected her application. I've heard rumors it's because they really really really hate the judge my wife worked for up in NLV, but I've also heard that the only applications they accepted were a handful of Ivy League grads and the daughter of a county commissioner. Who knows what's actually true? So, a couple of months prior to this trip to Big Bear, when my wife was out interviewing at other places, she'd say things like "Yeah that place seemed fine" or "The work seems okay I guess" or "I mean, if nothing else comes up, maybe". But with this firm... oh man. She came home and said "I want this. BAD. Love the people, love the work, love the cases, they're going to interview my law school friend so if the two of us get to work together..." I cut her off because I could tell she was about to pop.

Like I said, that Friday was spectacular. She got the phone call. The managing partner said "I've basically told everyone that we're hiring you. So I guess I should actually ask if you still want the job." She jumped on it, a start date was set, and the wife was giddy. What she may or may not have known at the time is that I planned on proposing that night at dinner. My plan was simple: She'd inevitably get up to use the bathroom at some point. I'd slip the ring to the waiter, order dessert, and be about as generic as possible. It's not really my style, but it felt right to do it in Big Bear, especially the day she accepted her offer.

She did not use the women's room that night, so my plan was thrown for a loop. I had a couple of back-up ideas in mind. As long as it happened during the same weekend, I think we're good. I put the ring in my pocket, and our Saturday was kind of full of sight-seeing. Of course I could find a time to propose today, right? Something spectacular! Something that would knock her socks off! Something that would be memorable! Well... it was memorable. But for all the wrong reasons...

We wake up early and get breakfast at some teddy bear-themed restaurant that we love. I wasn't quite awake enough to do it then, but I knew other opportunities would come up.

We park near the east end of the lake. There's a wooden bridge that runs along the side, over what used to be a marshy area but the drought has killed off all the water. I devise a plan: we'd walk to the end of the bridge, walk through the now-dry section of lake bed, up on top of the hill in the middle of the area. I'd propose up there and it'll be perfect. Awesome. I've got this. Except I don't, because a dry lake bed means that certain wildlife, like fish, are kind of screwed. So when we get to the base of the hill, we're hit with this stench. I see three dead, rotting fish about a foot to my right, and we're grossed out so we head back.

Second plan: I'll stop on the wooden bridge and do it there. Perfect. No qualms with that and it should go smoothly. We're about halfway down the walkway, I find a place with a good view... and a guy on a bicycle comes cruising by. I jump back, my hand hits the wooden railing, and I get a splinter. We spend five minutes trying to dig this sucker out. When it finally comes, we're both covered in blood. Mood ruined (unless you're into that kind of thing).

Third plan: The ski resort runs their ski lift in the summer to the top of the hill so you can get a good view of the valley. Perfect. That should have been my plan all along. We get to the resort, start looking for a ticket window, and realize the parking lot is empty. That's odd. A security guy comes up and asks what we're doing. We say that we're looking to do the lift to the top, and he says "Oh sorry, that doesn't start running until next week. The snow this morning killed off any chance of it running this weekend". C'mon.

Fourth plan: Okay, the resort is right next to the Big Bear zoo. We always like going to zoos or aquariums when we're traveling, so maybe this would be the right spot. But today, the animals had different ideas. They were all howling or crying, like they were all in pain. All of them. I didn't know that was possible, but maybe some influenced others, and it started a chain reaction of animal cries.

Fifth plan: Well, she's crafty as hell, and there's a yarn store up the road. Maybe there? Quaint idea, but I think it would have been more awkward than anything since it was us, two old ladies, and their dog. No-go.

By now, it's nearly dinner time. We go to this little burger joint and I contemplate possibly doing it there. But it's all teenagers in there. This is starting to get annoying. I give her an onion ring as an "engaged to get engaged" ring. That went over like a lead balloon. Christ.

Sixth plan: Right. Let's drive over to the far west side of the lake, park off to the side, and try to see the sunset go down behind the mountains. We get there, and not only do we have no view, there was a group of a half dozen teenagers running around and screaming. Really? Teens today are that excitable about a dam? Times have changed since I was a kid.

Seventh plan: **** this noise, I just need to do this. Let's go back to the cabin and hang out by the lake. I can try something there, right? Right. Let's go. We get to the lake front part of the hotel (or cabin-resort), and we're the only ones there. Perfect. We grab two chairs. I'm fidgeting. This is it. This is finally going to happen... until "they" show up. A young couple with their dog. The dog is filthy but won't listen to the owner asking it to come. And it had a weird name, like "Adolf" or something equally stupid. We spend 20 minutes there waiting for these guys to get their dog under control, but I eventually give up.

Eighth plan: Simple. Right in front of the cabin door. We walk back to the cabin, and there's some dudes with music BLARING out of their pickup, all four doors open, drinking Natty Ice or some ****. Okay, now I'm pissed.

At this point, the wife has figured out that I'm going to propose so I can tell she's getting antsy. She eventually says "Just ask already".

I get down on one knee, take her hand, and say...

"Will you..."
"Wrong hand, stupid"
"Just take this ****ing thing already god"

I pull the ring out of my pocket, and it's covered with bits of my deodorant that somehow left my armpit and found its way into my pants. I laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing, she calls her mom all happy, and that's that.

The internet is full of people who want to propose, but back out because everything isn't picture-perfect. Well, my proposal had a hiccup or two, but I think because our story is so unique it actually trumps most of the "violin music, releasing doves, horseback riding" drivel that should only exist in supermarket novels.

A+ proposal story

Such a great story. Felt like I was the 3rd wheel on that whole trip with you guys.

Nice with the Onion Ring troll job....figure that would go over just slightly better than getting down on one knee and then bringing out an empty box and saying "gotcha!" Love the story

I love your stories and have really enjoyed reading this. Great pics, etc. This, however, is one of my favorites:

How do you get the grammar wrong on something so simple -- and then get someone to actually buy/use it? Maybe it was custom made. Of course, based on what it says, I shouldn't expect any better. So sad.

Stickers/bumper stickers that say stuff like that are never used by someone attractive or in this case bright

Why on earth would you lower the value of your car by putting that abomination on the back window. It's a Chevy Aveo after all. How about a little respect for the auto.

The sad thing is that I've seen more than one vehicle with that phrase on the back. Not sure if the grammatical error is standard. I'll try to grab a few more shots next time I see them around.

My wife won a free trip on the High Roller for up to 20 people + open bar back in May. A few people are out of town and we don't know a ton of others, so we wrangle up about 15 people for the night. We know people are going to come at all sorts of different times from all sorts of different places, so we tell people to be at the Yardhouse at the Linq (... what do they call that area with all the shops/restaurants? Linq park? Linq promenade?). Joboo drives Brad to my place so I can designated-drive everyone, and we meet my wife's co-worker and her husband first, with some others trickling in behind. Brad is putting away a couple of beers during dinner, and I remind him that the High Roller has an open bar for us. He says "Oh, I know. Just building up a base buzz, like when you get a base tan before going to the beach." Uh oh...

The High Roller is the kind of thing you should probably do once, especially if you can get some kind of deal/discount on it. It's a pretty entertaining ride for about half an hour, but I'm not sure the view is any better than, say, top of the Stratosphere. But, as we had an open bar, that certainly made things more interesting. Brad, Joboo, and a couple of others in the group decide to hit the bar HARD. I can tell they're getting rowdy but no one is sloppy yet. Maybe this will be a quiet night after all? (Spoiler: If I'm telling you this story, it's because it was not, in fact, a quiet night)

The bartender calls "Last call" and Brad goes ham. Gets a double of like single-barrel Jack and some other drink for the road. He even has Joboo order another drink on his behalf, in case the bartender tried to cut him off. Brad tips well, at least, so I guess that helps.

Our group finishes the ride, gets outside, and kinda disperses. I'm talking to Jamie's new boyfriend Mick and a couple of other people when I get a tap on the shoulder. It's my wife's quilting friend, "Hey, that tall skinny guy you brought? He's umm... he's holding on to a tree because he can't stand upright anymore." Oh boy. Me, Mick and Joboo find Brad and he's in bad shape. He slammed down those last few drinks from the High Roller, then found a bar at the Linq and got a couple more drinks. He's barely standing up at this point. I give Joboo my keys and tell him to pull my car around. I have the wife say goodnight because we gotta get Brad and Joboo back to the house. Mick and I grab on to Brad and start walking him away from the Linq down to the parking lot. I was hoping to find a handicap ramp instead of stairs, since I wanted the path of least resistance. Brad is slowly starting to put more and more weight on me and Mick, and I can tell he's starting to really fade.

It took nearly 20 minutes, but we made it to the car in one piece. Brad basically falls out of my car onto the garage floor. Joboo says to leave him there for a minute. If he sobers up, Joboo will drive him home. Otherwise, they'll both just crash at our house for the night. Sounds good, but it's quickly apparent that Brad isn't sobering up and will most likely completely pass out soon. I tell the wife to grab one of Brad's arms, Joboo the other, and I'd grab his legs. Let's bring him in the house so he at least doesn't sleep on the garage floor between two cars. We lift him, but the deadweight is too much for us. The wife goes inside and grabs a blanket, a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. Brad turns to Joboo and says "Spike and his wife have been so nice. Go in my wallet and give them $100 for driving me here." I look at Joboo and shake my head, and he said he'll hold on to the money and give it back to Brad in the morning. Then Brad says "You guys are always nice. Joboo, give them $200 for everything. And they're letting me use a blanket? Give them $300 for watching over me." At this point, I'm starting to think if he insists...

I start to walk inside and shut off the light, when Brad says "They're gonna have to clean this blanket. Give them $400." I look back and... yup, pissed his pants. Awesome. Joboo gives me the cash, and I leave it, Brad's wallet, and a few other things on the end table next to the couch where Joboo was setting up for the night. The wife and I go to bed and crash, laughing about the absurdity of the night.

I wake up about 10am. Brad and Joboo are gone, but I've got a string of weird text messages from Brad. "Joboo said I gave you guys $400 last night but that you put it back in my wallet. I didn't see it there. Know where it went?" "Any idea where that $400 is?" Etc. I check, and his wallet and everything I left next to the couch are gone. There's nothing in my wallet. Did Joboo pocket the cash? Did my wife? This is getting weird. I hunt around a little bit more and eventually, on the floor and nearly completely behind the couch, I find the four $100 bills. I think the cat must have knocked them down behind the couch during the night and nearly ruined my friendship in the process. I let Brad know I have the cash and drop it off at his place on my way out later that day.

About a week later, my wife's friend calls and says "So what's the deal with Brad? Is he single? I think he'd fit well with a friend of mine..." Let me get this straight. A guy who was falling over drunk, incoherent, made an ass of himself, is someone you want to fix up with a friend of yours? Oh, and she's a strict Catholic who doesn't drink? How, exactly, will this end well? The fix-up never went beyond the fact-checking stage, but I just can't fathom what she was thinking... this wasn't exactly a stellar first impression.

Once again, I'll be heading to the TI for the 10pm tournament. If I'm awake, I'll go play a cash session at probably Mirage or possibly Harrah's. Come say hi.

Try mirage, haven't done there new room.


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This is going to be the least interesting post in this thread, I believe. Tuesday will have a lot, I promise.

Saturday, July whatever the **** I lost track of dates

It's been gloomy and overcast all morning:



Fortunately it cleared up a little bit when I went out to get some food:



My wife's car, however, did not fare so well later that afternoon when the skies opened up and the rains game like a deity was pissed:



I decide to hit up the TI for their 10pm tournament once again. It's becoming a reg fest, especially now that the series has moved on for another year. But there are enough drunks and tourists around that the prize pools are still juicy. There's this one dude, LARGE guy, who has no problem playing massive pots and going all in super early, building his stack to like 40k before the first break, ordering shots for the entire room, getting piss drunk and giving away all his chips before the second break. I'm at his table, along with "Honey, I'm all in!"'s wife, a loose but solid reg, and Nam. Nam is a dealer at the TI most nights but will occasionally play in the tournament. He's a pretty decent player. He's also the absolute nut worst regular dealer in town. He just flat out doesn't pay attention. He doesn't care. He can't do math without using his fingers, toes, and pulling down his zipper.

My favorite move was a hand where two players were heads up on the river. First player checks. Second player checks. Nam is off in dreamworld and sees none of this. He points to the first player to indicate it's his action and he bets 2000 (into like a 6000 pot). Second player and the rest of the table try to say that first player checked, but since Nam didn't see it/didn't care to see it, he let the action stand. Second player folded, and that was that.

So as is expected, Nam was the one that busted me. Blinds are 200/400. At this point, I've been card dead, but the only two hands I've shown were QQ and JJ. Both times I was the aggressor and I won. On this hand, I'm the BB. Four callers, including Nam. I see A5o and I check. Flop A85. I bet 1200. Nam raises to 6000. It folds back to me, and I go all in for about 13k. He calls and shows ATo. T on the turn and I'm cursing his name on my way out.

I enjoyed this family sitting in front of a TV showing a stripper/bikini contest:



I thought about playing a cash game somewhere, but ultimately decided against it. I was going to listen to Da_Nit and go to the Mirage but the tram between the two properties was busted. And I'm far too lazy to walk. I did grab a few pictures outside before heading home:





Sunday, July 31 -

Really a dull day. It's my birthday this coming Friday so the wife and I decided to host a small get together. Should have two gaming tables running - one for poker-type games, one for Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Cattan, etc. Might be a good time. If any of you ****s ask nice enough about coming, I'd consider inviting a couple of you.

I finally made that dinner I talked about in a previous post. Even though cooking gives me anxiety and I really didn't enjoy the process, the chicken actually came out really good. I even improvised on the amount of ricotta cheese to use and my wife thought it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. "Going off-book? Adding garlic? Be still, my quivering ovaries!" Thrill seekers, we are not.

Monday, August 1 -

Work was more or less painless. I really only see my boss about once a week, if that. We're left to our own devices and as long as the work gets done, no one asks any questions. It's really nice since some of my hallmates are SUPER LOUD and love screaming into speaker phone with their door open. It drives me crazy, but at least I can shut my door without worrying about my boss getting upset that I'm closing myself off.

I came home, ate dinner with the wife, and she crashed early. I guess she's got some pro bono case and it's stressing her out big time. She wants to get to the office early in the morning to do some work on it, so I'm left to my own devices. I decide to play a quick cash session. But again, I want to go somewhere I haven't been in a long time. I check Bravo, get my name on the list, and I'm off...



This ended up being an eight handed session. I don't mean the table was eight handed. I mean my buy-in lasted eight hands and I only brought enough cash for the one buy-in.

I check in at the desk, and he leads me over to two tables, both of which have empty seats. I'm told to choose. The first table doesn't have a stack over $300, and there'd be a middle-age woman to my immediate left. On the second table, I'd be to the direct left of two $800+ stacks, and I see lots of empty cocktail glasses laying around. Sold. I take seat four, and I'm immediately the big blind. Seat three introduces himself as Neil and says this is an action table. Seat two says his name is Dave and that he hasn't had a drink in three years, as he's pounding what appears to be some sort of gin-based drink. Oh goodie. A couple of players limp to Neil and he makes it $37 to go. I see K3o and quickly muck, as does everyone else. Neil shows the J2o and I can see this is going to be a fun table.

Next hand, a younger Asian in MP makes it $12. Dave calls, Neil calls. I decide to flat with AKss because I have zero read on anyone. Flop AT4. I check. Asian bets $30. Dave calls, Neil folds. I think about raising to like $80 here, but ultimately decide to call this, and lead out anything that doesn't look too scary. Turn is 2 and brings a second heart on the board. I lead for $50. Asian thinks for a while then calls. Dave snap-shoves his monster stack. ****. This reeks like 44. Maybe 22 if he's that wild? I just can't think of a hand I'm beating here, especially with one person to act behind. Neil keeps asking what I have and I tell him I'd show if I didn't have someone behind. I fold. Asian gets slightly irritated and folds. Dave triumphantly shows 53o for the turned wheel. I laugh and say I was further behind than I thought, and I was glad I folded AK. Asian chuckles and said he was in third place.

I fold a few hands until Dave is BB and Neil is UTG. I have $106 left. Neil straddles to $5. I look down at KK and know my whole stack is going in on this hand. I can raise here and try to induce a shove from one of the monsters, but know it'll smell super weird if I just open-shove from UTG+1. I make it $30 and it folds to Dave who calls. Neil asks about my stack and makes it $150. I of course go all in, and Dave calls. Flop J97r. No problem for me. Check check. Turn is a 6 and Dave snap-shoves again. Uuuuuuuuuugh c'mon. Did he play T8 or something? Neil tanks and tanks and tanks and eventually folds. Dave shows 66. The Asian from the previous hand said he folded a 6 and hit a one-outer for the set. I show my KK, river is a 4, and I'm heading home.

At least I can read a few pages before going to bed:

Enjoying the stories here!

Question for Spike; what is it about Reno that you like so much? Just curious. I am liking Nevada a lot for various reasons, but mostly because the no income tax thing. And I did check out Reno a little, their mayor is super hot but never dug any deeper.

Great thread. Spectacular writing!

Of course Spike is a Stanhope fan
I thought you were her pro bono case (ba-dum-bump)

Are the TI "Regs" all the low limit d-town regs from the Plaza & Binions?

Book looks like a good read, just finished Titantic Thompson. Good read if anyone likes old school stories of gambling and hustling.





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Ballys game looked promising, I've never had luck there.

Also don't recall saying you should check out Mirage poker room. That being said I would if at TI playing 10PM, that or walk across to Venetian.

Hey how was the farm basket? Need more food reviews from a fat local. Fat visitors like me want to know.


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I drink too much I did recommend the Mirage.


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I'm not sure I can really articulate why I enjoy Reno so much. The summers are much more mild. The winters can be cold and snowy but they're not like the Yukon. It feels more like what I'm used to - Boston suburbs and middle New Hampshire woods, so there's a comfort in the familiar. Even though it's still a cowboy town and it's still Nevada, it just feels much different than the southern part of the state.

Thanks!

Yeah Stanhope is amazing. So far, the book is pretty fantastic.

Also, well done with the pro bono line. I have no counter for that one...

No idea, as I haven't really played cash at Binions. I can say that I haven't seen any of them playing cash at any of the other rooms I've been to. I do occasionally see some familiar faces at the Orleans nightly tournaments, but it's been a while since I've run one of those.

I should check that out. I only have like two weeks before classes start so I need to cram in recreational reading while I can.

The Bally's game was incredibly promising. I was kicking myself for not bringing another buy-in. I feel like I could have gotten my money back and then some (variance aside, of course) from Neil and Dave. Alas, it was not meant to be.

I do like the new Mirage room. Seems to be run well, too. The last couple of times I've played cash there, it was half locals, which surprised me. I don't typically think of that as being a locals room.

Farm Basket is good, but it doesn't knock my socks off. Their fries are waaaaaaaaaaay over-seasoned for my taste, so I tend to skip them and just get the chicken (clucker) sandwich. Unfortunately, the one sandwich isn't enough, so I get two. I know, I know. In my defense, I'm thinking about getting gastric bypass surgery. I should pig out while I can, right?

Keep that **** up and you could end up in one of my future stories.

Tuesday, August 2

The last few weeks at work have been relatively quiet. I've had a few projects thrown my way, but spaced out and all ones I can handle relatively easily. Between Friday afternoon and this morning, I've received four projects, all from upper brass, all labeled as "HIGH PRIORITY", two of which I have no clue how to handle without doing major detective work. This is on top of my typical day-to-day duties. I emailed my boss around 8:45 to explain the situation and to remind him that I'm due to leave at noon today. He didn't respond. ****.

At 11:50 sharp, I pack up and start to head out. I typically don't wear suits. I only have one good one, and it's usually too hot for me to wear it. Plus I sweat a lot in the summer, so I soak dress shirts effortlessly. In order to hide that, I need a vest, which only makes things hotter. It's a catch-22, but today, I suck it up and don my best suit. I have a thing at 3 that requires it. First, however, I need to swing by UNLV.

My department at UNLV is currently a dumpster fire. I have no confidence in the administration to get things organized. I have to wait weeks before receiving a response to any emails. They hired a bunch of new professors for new courses, then allowed each and every one of them to negotiate taking the fall semester off (leaving us **** out of luck). Scrambling for courses, I find one in Political Science that may work, but the professor requires me to meet with her first. I quickly stop in at the student union:



And head on over to the Political Science office. The building confused me - I'm used to buildings where you enter, and then you find the office you need. This building, however, was more like a mini-mall. There were no entrances to the building itself, but all of the departments had exterior doors. I discover this after wandering around the outside of the building for about 10 minutes, and I just know I'm going to be a sweaty mess for my meeting.

I finally find where I need to be, and the professor does everything in her power to scare the **** out of me about the quantitative nature of the course. She's saying how the methodology may not pertain to the type of research I want to do (I only told her about one of my three ideas for a dissertation, so that's partially my fault). She goes on to say that she's had too many people cry to her that the class is too hard. After about half an hour of scaring the hell out of me, she signs the form for me to take the course. Now I'm stuck, because I'm honestly not sure I want to do this kind of methodology right now, especially with comps coming up in the spring. I have to search for another class and quick, since I only have a week to submit the paperwork for my work to foot the bill.

I'm a big, sweaty mess, but I've got time before my 3pm appointment to run home, shower, change my shirt, and get back on the road. I do that, and head on downtown.

This looks like it's from some kind of... movie, or maybe a YouTube video somewhere...



I like the palm trees right in front of the jail (on the left):



Back at the courthouse:



And here we are, to officially make my wife Mrs. McAwesome:



We got married in November. Her plan all along has been to take my last name, and move her maiden name to her middle name. Back in February, we went to Social Security and took care of that. The feds were satisfied, and the name change was official. We went to the Nevada DMV, and they rejected the name change. If she had just taken my last name, it would have been a lot easier. Changing her maiden name to her middle name is going to cause bureaucracy to happen. First, she had to put an ad in the paper for three consecutive weeks to show that this was happening. This allows for public comment and for creditors or other officials to find someone trying to hide their real identity. Then, the paper has to submit some kind of certificate saying that the ad did run for the time alloted. Then, the judge requires a hearing.

As we're waiting outside for the hearing, she's getting nervous and I think a little pissed. She doesn't feel like this is a necessary step and really is annoyed she has to be here. I try to calm her down:

Me: "You got everything you need? The order's all filled out?"
Her: "Yeah. Order is here. I don't think I need anything else."
Me: "You didn't have to write a statement or affidavit or anything?"
Her: "Nope."
Me: "Do I need to write or say anything?"
Her: "Why would you need to do something?"
Me: "Well, now that you're my legal property, I figure y--"
*SMACK*
Me: "..."
Me: "So I don't have to say anything."
Her: "I'd prefer if you didn't."

The hearing lasted roughly 30 seconds and the judge signed the order. A quick stop to the clerk's office, then we popped in to visit some of my wife's former co-workers.

We head from Downtown to the Strip for something I've been looking forward to for a while. The wife calls and accidentally parked in the wrong garage, but it's not that long of a walk between the two spots. And here we go...






T-Mobile Arena open house! The invitation to the open house was sent to season ticket holders, but it was technically open to anyone. They didn't check any kind of credential. A quick jaunt upstairs and we're ready to check it out:







C'mon... mini scoreboards under the main scoreboard for the people too close to the ice. It's like scoreboardception:



Our tickets are up in P5, which covers a lot of the upper bowl from roughly top of the circles to top of the circles:




The wife and I picked out the seats we want, and Joboo approved. I ordered the millisecond the website opened up, and the selection process is supposed to be based on the order in which you signed up. With any luck, we'll get our pick and the seats we want. Truthfully, there's not a bad seat in the house. This was from the upper concourse near the Hyde Lounge:



Mullet spotted!





Time for a quick bite before heading home:

Waiting for the audiobook.

T-mobile looks sweet. Do you have tickets to Frozen Fury? Consider this your formal invitation to join the 2p2 hockey regs.

Spike delivers every time!