In less than one day I will hop on an aeroplane that will either (a.) deliver me to Nevada, (b.) crash into a mountain or (c.) do something else entirely. This excites me because, even if choice B happens, I will make the nightly news and I will immediately be recognized as a modern day prophet. Of course, I'd be a dead person, so that would kinda suck. But I might die in Vegas anyway...
(Note: If I do take my last breath over the weekend--whether a plane crash or mobster is responsible--please tell Nick Van Exel how much he meant to me. And tell my mom something similar.)
Anyway, the weekend got off to a nice start today when my bookie met me downtown to pay me the healthy chunk of currency I earned by wagering on college football futures. In case you were wondering, I bet on seven teams, with my record finishing at an impressive 5-1-1. My winners were as follows: Hawaii (over 10 wins); Clemson (over 8); Missouri (over 9); Ohio State (over 9); Kentucky (over 5.5). My push was Texas Tech (under 8), and my loss was Cal (over 9.5). Pretty impressive, no? Either way, thanks to mammals like Colt Brennan and Chase Daniel, I now have a whole bunch of extra cash to place on one spin of the roulette wheel. Come on black! Or perhaps...come on red! I'll never learn.
Speaking of futures wagering, my big bet this year in the NBA was Golden State (over 41.5), and six games into their season I was ready to drive off the nearest cliff (which is pretty far away, but still). The Warriors opened up 0-6 and, as previously stated, I wanted to do bad things to myself. And then...something happened. And that something was Steven Jackson coming off suspension, which ignited a stretch of basketball that would make Henry Iba jealous. G-State now stands at 10-8 (do the math) and it looks as if nobody can stop them. This is a good thing for me, because I'm afraid of heights. And dying.
(Note: G-State plays twice while we're in Vegas, and I won't be able to resist the urge to bet on them both nights. And yes, I know betting with my heart is a bad idea. But who cares, it's Vegas, right? Plus, it's already documented that I have a gambling problem, so it's not my fault.)
Yeah, yeah, what about your predictions?
I predict that I will step off the plane drunk. Really drunk.
I'm leaving with $1200 to my name...I predict that I will return with $0.000000.
I predict I will come home without the back panel on my new cell phone.
I predict that I will regret playing so much roulette.
I predict Craig will get kicked out of a casino for blowing up on a blackjack dealer (note: he has no idea I'm making this prediction, and I suspect he would have no problem with it. In fact, he would probably predict the same thing. I will try to stop using the word "predict" so goddamn much.)
I predict I will eat more Chinese food than what is generally considered normal and/or safe.
I predict I will get naked with a white girl.
I predict that I will get offered coke at least ten times. Weed, twenty times.
I predict that I will be mean to a harmless cab driver or twelve.
I predict I will either break my camera or forget to take enough pictures, thus hindering my blogging potential.
I predict that if I remember I have a camera in my pocket, Craig will make fun of me for trying to take so many pictures.
I predict that if I come home (a big if), the most overrated band of all time will still be the Beastie Boys.
I predict that I don't have any more words at the moment.
Again, I'm bringing my computer machine with me and I hope to blog a little bit over the weekend. Nothing too crazy, though. This is because I have a gambling problem. And a penis. But I will post a few things, so keep checking back.
Also, Also, ALSO...I posted a new podcast--it's titled "is the westside pathetic or great." I only did this to keep you from complaining about the site not being updated.
Wish me luck, peoples.
Now if you don't mind I have to go to Walgreens to purchase a mini-toiletries kit.
-Brad Spieser (Brad@TwinKilling.com)