i yam what i yam

mandalay bay

Date: 12.17.11
Location: Las Vegas, NV
Pictures: here

I think it was the man who can speak russian in french who said: "A real man doesn't need another man to talk to women." And I have found this to be mostly true, because I pretty much talk to anyone.

Vegas, eh, vegas is a little different. Number one, its the middle of December, so it's mostly families with kids in strollers and older people in similar devices. Secondly, well secondly, I could use a wingman here, because the girls that are here seem to be in groups of ten or more. And that's a very high percentage of gate-keepers and a lot of keys and many layers of locks.

gatekeeper deluxe.

If you don't know what I mean when i say gate-keeper, she is the one girl, and there is always one and sometimes more than one, who is the mommy of the group and doesnt want anyone talking to strangers. She is easily identifiable: (1) she will be the most sober (2) she will be smiling the least, (3) she will be the last one to introduce herself and will probably look down or away while she does this, and (4) she will want to know your "story".

Having a great time in Vegas. Consciously or not I situated myself about 10 miles from the strip, because I do like to gamble. If it went to 11, that's where I would be with gambling. But I'm the smart kind of idiot; I don't expect to ever win, I don't ever try and win it back, I set a limit, and I don't gamble drunk or in a bad mood. And none of that is true.

However, I've never walked out of a casino in tears wondering how I will eat or where I will sleep, and I've never walked out wondering how I got so lucky and throwing hunnies around Dumb and Dumber style.

where i am RIGHT now.

One great thing about not being in a hotel/casino, is that I can sit here in the courtyard of the house, light up the fire, and enjoy the softer, less glitzy side of Vegas. And it has so much to offer. It's a lot like Los Angeles in some ways, kinda outdoorsy people, everyone has clean cars, plenty'o gyms and tanning salons and juice stores, and you never know where you are because it all looks the same.

Went for a ride yesterday, and in retrospect I would call it a thrill ride, and then if my mom weren't reading this, I would call it a suicide ride. I left directly from the house and rode 21 miles up Potosi Mountain, straight up about 2500ft to max out around 4100ft elevation. The sun was setting and the posted speed limit was 65, so I turned around then. Traffic was insane crazy, and my head was on a swivel the whole time.

supposed to be one piece...

On top of this, since today was clean everything day, (clothes, car, bike), the bike shop who cleaned it and tuned it told me my rear derailleur hanger was cracked and the only thing holding on my rear wheel was my skewer. Which isn't really a big deal, since I mostly ride my bike with my rear wheel attached to it, but it would have been a shocking surprise when I took off the rear wheel.

Kinda longing for those quiet rides in Marfa, Texas. I'd kill myself if I had to do them every ride, but they sure were quiet comparitively.

Gambled last night at the Mandalay, the Silverton, and the Green Valley Ranch. Ranch takes it out of those three. Walked away up, and happy.

The drive here was beautiful. I've done the same route once before, in 1995, when I moved from the east coast to Los Angeles, but I must have done it in the dark, because I would have remembered this. The last 30 miles before Vegas, coming on Route 93, is like driving through a mini Grand Canyon, and you can't help but lose your breath.

I took a wild turn off the highway to explore a bit, and came across a beautiful section of Lake Mead and also a band of wild goats. The one you see scampering off at high speed was the one who I had a little stare down with. I guess I got a little too close. He started to charge the car a little bit, and I shit you not, I barked at it.

Barking at goats will keep you safe. Pocket that one, you may need it.

Not sure where I am headed next. No place is warm except Florida and out of the country. Getting a little pressure from home to be home for Christmas. Cant seem to find a solid way to explain to people that I just don't like holidays. I'm an instant party pooper no matter what I say.

"I yam what I yam and that's all I yam, " said Popeye.

And now, goats and such.