Friday, March 4

My Mini-Vacation. (Part 1 of 2)

I'm back from part 1 of my mini-vacation already.

Why?



Because I suck, that's why. Someday, I'll realize that my luck is awful, and I'll never win a single thing at a Native American Gaming Establishment (NAGE). I hope the above picture captured my loneliness and frustration, because I was sure feeling it at around that time.

We arrived with stars in our eyes and shuffled around in bewilderment for a while, before settling down and getting into a mindset for robbing these fools blind. I had brought along a fist full of $20's, and I wasn't leaving until I had at least doubled my money.

My first stop was the "Mariachi Madness" machine, where I loaded it up with cash and swung for the fences.



19 seconds later...



That's a cash printout for 1 cent, and it was pretty much time to go home.

I cashed in my penny, and headed over to the arcade. There, I vented my frustration the only way I knew how.

I DANCED!




I rocked the DDR machine like it's never been rocked before. I was so dope, the dancefloor gots' blisters. The J-Pop was flooding my ears with full force, and I became lord of the Dance Dance Revolution! (The Missus may tell you that this wasn't the case. In fact, she might tell you that I looked embarrassing and sad. This is her opinion only, and should be taken with a grain of salt.)

The Missus was beginning to feel the weight of my failure, wrapped tightly around her pretty neck.



We managed to scrap enough money together to get a pizza. There, I contemplated jumping off the terrace. The Missus contemplated throwing me off herself.



I did some deep thinking. I mean, how stupid am I? I work hard for my money, and I was so willing to waste it on something that I knew wouldn't reciprocate. I looked forward to going to the casino for a week, and I knew damn well that I would just lose money and go home. I could have paid my power bill for the amount of money that I blew today. Then it hit me.

I had a responsible thought.

Why does responsibility always hit me after the fact? Why do I realize the error of my ways seconds after the mistake is made, and not seconds before? Most people think of me, and assume that I would be a compulsive and dangerous gambler. After this experience, I never want to gamble ever again. (Let's not forget my first gambling experience in Minnesota, where I lost more money in an hour than I make in a week.)

Screw you, Ho-Chunk Casino and Convention Center!

I wanted to get back at them. I wanted to do something to them that would hurt their heritage as much as they had hurt me. I wanted to disrespect them.



So I stood in front of their "heritage" mural, and had a picture of me taken making a call on my cell phone. If you don't understand why that's funny and offensive, that's probably a good thing. They may have my money, but I have their land.

Holy crap, that's really uncool. I'm just in a bad mood, don't send me hate mail or scalp me. See, the responsible thoughts always come a little too late.

It is pretty funny, though.

I was invited to a gathering on Friday, but I'm going to have to respectfully pass and lick my wounds until Saturday. Then, part 2 of my mini-vacation will start, and I'll spend Saturday and Sunday in Green Bay with the Jenkel twins. (See here for what transpired on our last trip there.) Of course, I'll take pictures and be in a better mood. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, March 1

Let's Go Away For A While.



At 4:30 tomorrow, my mini-vacation officially begins.

I opted to take a couple days off of work before our main receptionist gives birth to her third child. Once little "Ethan" comes out of the womb, yours truly will be manning the phones for 6 straight weeks. That's at least 30 days of me talking to people that shouldn't be the recipients of any sort of license whatsoever. Not only that, but my workplace has recently been the subject of some national news headlines and backlash. The next few weeks are sure to bring the media circus and protesters, and I'll be the first one they'll run into.

In case you're wondering what we did to deserve the attention, punch "Neil Noesen" into your favorite search engine, and form your own conclusions. I'm sick of hearing about it every day.

And with that, I'll never talk about work again. For a while. I've got a vacation to look forward to!

Here's the plan. On Wednesday night, we shall pay all our current bills and relax. On Thursday, we're heading out to the nearest Native American gaming establishment, where Celia will win money, and I will lose enough to balance it all out. Fun will be had. We may or may not spend the evening at the Native American gaming establishment hotel. I'm leaning towards no, considering how much money I plan to lose.

Friday will bring more relaxing and packing, for we're off to Green Bay again! On Saturday and Sunday, we'll be visiting Benjamin and Sherry for a weekend of whimsy. Pasta will be eaten, hearts will be broken. We'll come home Sunday evening, and I will call in sick until mid-April.

You can bet on tons of pictures and stories. I'll still be keeping in touch over the next 4 days, so don't go anywhere. I'll know.

Before I leave you tonight, I have some amazing news for MST3K nerds like myself. This comes straight from the source, Satellite News:

MIKE, SERVO AND CROW IN THE "CHEAP SEATS"
For the first time since 1999, Mike Nelson, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot will make a new appearance on television, riffing the March 14th episode of ESPN Classic's "Cheap Seats" with Randy and Jason Sklar. The episode will air at 10 p.m. Eastern Time. Get those recording devices ready!

I don't know about you, but I've been waiting 6 years for something like this to happen. I know that "Cheap Seats" isn't really that great of a show, but I'd watch anything that had Mike and the 'Bots in a cameo appearance. I'm allowing Tom Servo to leave my home during the taping of this show, but he has to return immediately thereafter. I'm going to excuse myself to the kitchen now, I've got chocolate milk in the fridge that's calling my name.

COMING SOON!
My Mini-Vacation.
My First Job. (Part V)
5 Miles In 65 Days.
Smarch!