The Glamor, The Glitz

Monday, June 4th, 2007, 2:38 pm

I got home from the Rio around 2:30 in the morning, my ass dragging a bit. But not too bad, I’ve stocked up on sleep the last few days and I felt pretty good.

Until I walked through the front door.

It was hot.

Not warm. Hot.

The air conditioning in our condo crapped out. Yes, I tried fiddling with the buttons on the thermostat. I fiddled and diddled and fashizzled and nothing happened. It was 84 degrees in my bedroom at 3AM. It’s 90 in the living room right now. What am I gonna do–open a window? Sure. I walked out on our balcony and it’s like a kiln.

Allegedly someone is coming to work on it, but they’ve been here twice to fix our spotty Internet service and that hasn’t panned out yet. I’ve been able to piggyback on some fleeting signal bouncing around the hills but you can’t depend on it.

Of course I knew that coming out here wouldn’t be all showgirls and Sinatra, but having no AC last night was a body blow. Dan’s trying to grab a few extra winks at the moment, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’m just drinking lots of cold liquids (non-alcoholic, unfortunately) and hope that this gets fixed before I get home tonight/tomorrow.

Here’s a quick pick of my work station at the Rio. It’s a lot more comfortable (and practical) than it looks:

I got up and walked around a bit to see what the hell was actually going on in the tournament I’m covering and I saw Shannon Elizabeth (who’d just been eliminated) talking to Michael Craig. He just had his first WSOP cash and I wanted to congratulate him and, besides, I’m a fan (even if he’s the competition and I’ve sworn to crush him like a grape).

He was talking to Shannon and they were going to walk out of the tournament room together, and I thought it would be extremely bad form to butt in at that precise moment. But a few starstruck guys stopped her on the way to get their pictures taken so I tapped him on the shoulder, introduced myself and offered a quick “well done”. I might’ve been the only person in the room who, seeing Shannon Elizabeth and Michael Craig standing side-by-side thought, “Hey, I should go talk to him.” No offense meant.

And yes, Shannon Elizabeth is quite pretty.

At one point during the night a guy playing in the Omaha Hi-Lo/Stud-8 tournament (I get a headache just thinking of it) had three young ladies in slinky dresses stop by and chat with him. He got them chairs and had them sit near his table–and right behind me. I’m not sure what his relationship to them was (one thanked him for getting them their room) but the four of them took the time to chat at very high volume about their favorite TV show–“Extreme Makeover”. One girl said that Ty Pennington had come into a place in Venice Beach where she used to bartend, and that he’s only about five-ten.

After he went back to the table the talk continued to center around Ty:

“I thought he was gay.”
“Isn’t he gay?”
“I heard he was.”
“Gay?”
“I thought he was.”

Etc, etc, etc. They sat directly behind me and I used my monk-like powers of concentration to focus on my tasks. The player came over later and chatted with them again, and while I didn’t hear what he said to prompt this one of the girls said, “I don’t think that’s going to be in the cards…no pun intended!” This, they all seemed to agree, was one of the Funniest Things Ever Said. I was sad to see them go.

I have to be at the Rio by two, so I’ll go throw a bucket of ice water on Michalski to rouse him from what must be an uneasy sleep and start to get ready. It’s 91, now, and I went to the window to look outside and the floor is almost too hot to stand on in bare feet. Vegas, baby.

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