You know it’s a fucked up situation when the evening’s success depends on the goodwill of a scalper.
I’ll get to this in a moment. But first, the preamble.
“One Drunk Puppy” seems like a strange name for a wine tasting event. The proceeds raised from selling thousands of tickets for a room that comfortably holds about 150 goes to support a charity for homeless dogs here in Las Vegas. Hence the odd name. We love wine and who among us doesnt like dogs — so this was a “must-attend” event.
Marieta and I go to as many wine tastings as we can. Most are pretty good since Las Vegas attracts a steady flow of wine marketeers, mostly from California. As a general rule, the more expensive the tickets cost, the better wines that are served. Since I’m the king of $9-a-bottle specials, attending the more refined tastings gives me a chance to sample wines that (in many cases) I wouldn’t be able to afford on a daily basis.
So, One Drunk Puppy is held at the Silverton Casino, across the highway from South Point. Tickets cost $45 at the door. It’s like 160 degrees outside, so we’re eager to step into the atrium where it’s nice and cool inside and wine is pouring aplenty.
Last night’s main course at PF Chang’s. Do not order it unless you have good medical insurance!
What is there to like about PF Chang’s?
I’ll try and solve this utterly baffling mystery in today’s column.
PF Chang’s is a popular chain restaurant with multiple locations throughout North America. Proving once again that the general public’s taste in just about everything is appalling, here’s where bland Mc-Asian food gets dressed up in a casual dining atmosphere. This basically means the identical ingredients you’d get from a street vendor in Chinatown get hijacked for about double the price. That’s because the rice is served in a bowl rather than a white cardboard box. The cooking is pretty much the same.
Then again, it’s not the same. Most of the meals you’d eat in Chinatown — the vast majority costing under $12 — are pretty damn tasty. At least they’re fulfilling. One doesn’t leave both hungry and angry. If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s leaving a restaurant both starving and furious. Not good. Such an end result is sure to trigger the wrath of hellfire.
I’ve just returned to the valley of darkness from the high summit on Mount Charleston. Within my arms rest stone tablets etched by fire. I bring to you light — the direct word from the heavenly poker gods.
Indeed, there is proof of divinity. Look to the west. The vast plumes of white smoke you’ve witnessed barreling into the sky in recent days over the desert came from the pyres of the almighty hand.
Now amongst my flock, I bestow upon you “The Ten Commandments of Poker Etiquette.”
When the phone rings, it’s almost always bad news.
Somebody wants something from me — either my time or money. And, I don’t have much of either.
Think of this. When’s the last time you received an unexpected telephone call and someone wanted to give you something? Or do something for you? Go ahead, take your time. Try to come up with one instance of charity.
Fortunately, there’s a buffer from this nuisance. It’s called voice mail. I screen my calls. Every one of them. And if I don’t recognize your phone number, you can be sure as elephant shit that it’s going straight to voice mail.
For those who manage to get through to me and leave a vice mail message, I have some helpful advice. So, listen up.