Ponderings and Musings

So a popular (and I believe relatively new) game here for slot machines fans is the “Wheel of Fortune” game. Eight players are seated around a big wheel just like Pat Sajek spins on television. Everyone has a video slot machine at their station and they feed money into the thing, play 45 lines six ways from Sunday and win an assortment of cash and prizes. If you hit three “bonuses”, you get to spin the big wheel.

There’s a lot of fanfare when it’s your turn for the big wheel. Vanna comes on and gives a very dignified speech about being a good player and other cheerleader-like statements without the rah rah. She’s looking slightly away from you as she reads her cues, but her heart seems to be in it.

Last night at The Mirage I hit the big wheel three spins in a row. On the first spin I landed on the big money, “1000” which of course means 1000 coins. Since I have a hard time keeping track of how many coins equals how much (especially after three martinis), I ended up walking away with a little over $300. I had fed the machine $50. I guess that’s good.

When a bonus comes up, the video screen instructions you to stand up and yell like you were on the real “Wheel of Fortune” game show. I had three drunk women to my right at their terminal. They were sharing $10 and playing one line. On the other hand, I always hit Max Bet, because Earl taught me long ago, you either lose big but hopefully you win big, so always max the machine. It’s a fairly credible theory.

The three drunk women shrieked when they saw that I got to spin and started yelling like they had just been given a White-Westinghouse Washing Machine from behind door number three. None of them were dressed as a carrot. Oops, wrong game show.

It was good to have a cheering squad, including Vanna’s dignified soliloquy. And the winnings went into the geek bank for future gadget purchases.

Back in August 2003 Earl and I drove to Wisconsin on an extended vacation. We made the drive in mid-August and had a wonderful time visiting Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and other touristy type places. While the trip was wonderful, this trip is memorable because every hotel we stayed at had a twist – the fire alarm would go off in the middle of the night and we would have to evacuate our room. This happened several times on the trip, once during a violent thunderstorm, another time due to rowdy college kids pulling fire stations and the third time was a fire alarm system malfunction.

It’s been several years since we’ve had to evacuate our hotel room and we chuckle when we think about that adventure.

We’ve been in Las Vegas for six hours. The power is currently out on one end of the strip, including several casinos: Excalibur, Luxor and Mandalay Bay. Generators are keeping the slot machines and elevators running, but the restaurants, common areas, retail establishments and bathrooms are completely dark.

I guess this hasn’t happened in a long time in Las Vegas, but folks are just going about their business and making the most of it. Earl called me (I was walking on the strip at the time, he was in a poker tournament) to make sure I was o.k. and once he heard my voice he went back to his hand. He doesn’t get excited about these things. I made my way down the darkened strip and found him and we rode a generator powered elevator back to our room. The hall lights were out but the vending machines worked.

Time to toast a diet pop.

So it’s not even 9:00 at night and I’m lying in the new bed in the back bedroom surfing away on the internet. I’m wicked tired tonight and I attribute that to no sleep last night worrying about today’s exams and the appropriate amount of studying I did yesterday and today. Tomorrow is the last day of classes before spring break. Thank goodness there’s only one quiz in Physics (what goes up, must come down, instant A) and a lecture from Professor Frightful and the voices in his chalkboard.

I’m lying in this bed because this is the room in the house that’s used the least. I wanted to see how this new bed and mattress feels; I have to admit that it’s quite comfortable. It was a good investment. Tom doesn’t know what to make of Daddy lying on the bed in the spare room but he still purrs with contentment. I guess he’ll purr anywhere.

Earl and I went out for supper tonight to one of our favorite haunts, Zebb’s. It was frightening in that within eyeshot I could spot three mullets (with obligatory baseball hat) and one really bad hairpiece. Even the one beer I had didn’t help the scenery.

I made a video this afternoon after my calculus test but I don’t think I’m going to post it as I’m worried about overloading the blog with video clips. When I’m just rambling I feel exceedingly boring when I watch my stuff; it’s better to post video of things that are actually interesting.

An iSight webcam shot will have to suffice for the night.

Last night Earl and I joined First Earl for dinner at a local Italian restaurant. The restaurant is called Joey’s, only seats 38 people, is in a charming old store front and is appropriately located in the Italian side of town. We love it there¹.

While I was enjoying my New England Clam Chowder, I realised that it was too hot for consumption after I had a big hunk of clam in my throat. (Typing that sentence kind of makes me gag a little). My first instinct was to swallow the clam, which I tried to do, except it was too big to swallow, so it just kind of hovered in the back of my throat where it proceeded to burn. As I grabbed for my drink (which was beer – fuel for the fire), the clam made it’s mark on the back of my throat where it apparently made a burn mark that now rides on my tongue. My throat is sore and it feels like I have the constant presence of a clam in my throat. It won’t go down, it won’t come up, it just sits there. I’m sure it’s just some swelling where the burn mark is and that it’ll all heal in a couple of days but it’s wicked annoying.

I’m such an idiot sometimes.

¹ When Olive Garden was staking out potential sites in our area, they ate at Joey’s. After their meal they decided that they could never compete here and abandoned plans to come to the area. They also asked for a jar of Joey’s sauce so they could analyse it.

So here we go again. Most of us in the United States were subjected to the horror known as Daylight Saving Time when we awoke this morning. My body thinks it’s 10:30, the clocks lie and say it’s 11:30. I will now be in a continuous jet lag mode until this insanity stops. I’m hoping the trip to Las Vegas completely messes me up to the point of a chronological reboot so I can get myself back on track.

I don’t know why we play this game with the clocks. “Noon” is suppose to be when the sun is at it’s highest point in the sky for the day. Plain and simple. This system worked for a long, long time. Then we started with the whole energy conservation, make the day brighter approach to things and started fucking around with the clock. This latest incarnation of insanity, which started last year, has extended Daylight Saving Time to nearly 2/3 of the year. This change is all in the interest of saving energy.

Am I the only one that finds that sort of absurd? Why would a government that’s completely in bed with energy companies want us to use less energy? Studies are showing that we actually use MORE energy during Daylight Saving Time. Let’s watch those oil company profits jump, jump, jump in a legislated dance.

I can barely get up for an 8 a.m. class as it is. Tomorrow morning it will be pitch black when the alarm shrieks at 6:30. Tonight I will lie in bed at 11:00 (which used to be 10:00) trying to force myself to sleep. Tomorrow morning there will be more accidents on the road from groggy drivers. But it’s all good, right?

I was thisclose to starting a rant about this sheep mentality we have going on in the country but I’m not going to. Quite frankly I’m so confused as to what time it is I’m still trying to sort out the whole breakfast/lunch debate. But if I hear one more person say that Daylight Saving Time makes the “day longer” I am going to scream.

Rambling, this time set to random music.