Jane, Hart and John at Greenbriar State Park.
I've been cleaning my room, and uncovering all kinds of stuff that I haven't seen in ages, including:
Adam, Nihar and Liz in the alley next to Ben's Chili Bowl.
Melissa, Jane, Hart and Steve.
I figure I'll double up tonight, since I didn't put anything up yesterday.
Steve, on his birthday, a few years ago.
With the picture of Randy cleaning the gutters, I hit 100 posts on this site, which is a benchmark that I really thought I would never make. Iím easily distracted by shiny things, so I figured that a weblog for my photos wouldnít hold my attention for too long, but it appears to have had the exact opposite effect. Iím actually feeling motivated to get out and shoot some and Iím brainstorming some ideas for some actual projects, rather than just posting pictures of my friends drinking. And now that I have this little statement out of the way, how about some more photos of friends imbibing alcoholic beverages?
Randy, up on the roof of our house a few weekends ago.
Jon and Cole on the way into the Venetian.
Jon, struggling to hear over the din of the slot machines at the Bellagio.
Stephen: Have you been writing e-mails to sports radio shows?
Drew: Not to my knowledge, why?
Stephen: Well, my coworker was listening to the Tony Kornheiser show, and Kornheiser read an e-mail from a reader named Andrew, who had majored in writing at Carnegie Mellon. The e-mail explained the difference between who and whom. I thought it had to be you.
Drew: Nope, not me. I avoid all unnecessary Kornheiser exposure. I can only stand Pardon the Interruption because Wilbon is on it. Kornheiser gives me hives. Extended exposure can lead to worse conditions, like herpes.
It appears that my evil twin, Skippy, is loose and writing e-mails to annoying sports columnists. I'm going to have to take the rest of the afternoon off to hunt down and kill my doppelganger.
Playing slot machines may well be the most boring activity in the world. I don't see how people can sit there for hours on end. In Eric's defense, he was just sitting down while we figured out what were going to do next.
I'm back from Vegas. I took some photos, but I won't get my negatives back until later in the week, so you'll have to wait for pictures. In the meantime, here are a few quick bits about the weekend:
I knew something was different about Vegas the moment I got off my connecting flight from Phoenix. The moment I walked off the jetway, I came face to face with a family dressed in matching Budweiser racing jackets. There could be only one explanation: I had wandered into some kind of alternate universe where people gladly wear clothing that is adorned with the logos of as many corporations as possible, and not in a manner that implies something ironic and hipsterish.
II. It Works On So Many Levels
The in-flight movie on my return trip was Cheaper by the Dozen. I presume it was a cautionary tale about a couple who are unaware of birth control, but I could be wrong, since I didn't feel like paying 5 dollars to rent a pair of headphones so I could watch a movie that had crappiness written all over it. The only reason I wanted say something about this movie is that at one point, it fulfilled an unspoken and unknown wish of mine: to see Ashton Kutcher get bitten in the area of the groin repeatedly by an English bulldog. Sometime during the flight, I looked up from my copy of Jarhead just in time to see the family dog attempt to eat Kutcher's kibble and bits, and I have to say, that's entertainment.
III. On Gorging
During my prior trip to Las Vegas, I never ate at a buffet, which seems to be pretty central to the Vegas experience. This time however, one member of our group suggested going to the buffet at the Bellagio. It seemed a bit steep at 32 bucks a head, but I'm generally game for anything once.
Let me just say, the buffet was pretty fucking incredible. I imagine that most other buffets consist mostly of steaming trays of meatballs, pasta and limp vegetables. However, the offerings at the Bellagio were pretty diverse and surprisingly good, especially in the area of seafood, which is a usually a category of foodstuff that I believe should not be offered in all you can eat quantities. Despite my preconceptions about eating gross quantities of seafood, the mahi mahi, bass and salmon were excellent.
A lot of people seemed to really go for the Alaskan king crab legs, which they would carry away in huge tangled piles. I tried a few, but was unimpressed, as I have been every other time I've had king crab. I was raised in Maryland, and I believe that the primary purpose of a crab is as a delivery mechanism for Old Bay, and the flavorless king crab legs just don't do much for me.
I played at The Mirage, which has a decent sized poker room, but they would only have one or two 1-5 stud tables going at a time, which was pretty annoying. The 3-6 hold 'em tables were the main game going, and were pretty fun, but still, a little more stud please. I shouldn't have to wait 45 minutes to get into a game.
The Flamingo, were I was staying, had a small group of poker tables. The tables looked like they had been crammed into small spare area of the casino floor, and definetly gave the impression that they were a half-assed afterthought.
I'm ditching D.C. for the weekend and heading out to Las Vegas for a few days of poker and carousing with some friends. So unless you'll be joining me in one of the Strip's poker rooms, I'll see you when I drag my dried husk of a body back to the East Coast on Sunday night.
I'm looking forward to when the sun starts to set late enough that I can do some climbing after work.
Hart, practicing placing protection at Carderock.
Stephen, taking a break from shoveling.