Must try harder, T ...

Back from Vegas. Mustn't grumble - going back again in less than three weeks.

Ten days without blogging - I didn't plan for that so I need to regain momentum now. When you land a hotel that only pretends to have internet access though, it's kind of a problem. Sure, there was a decent wifi signal. It looked to be working great too, right up until I put in my credit card number. It accepted and told me to go surf. I tried. It got slow. It died. It never recovered. Still don't know whether they actually charged me or, really, who the hell it was operated by. The hotspot name was Cheetah something or other (hah - not kidding), and I'll find out more if they do actually think I'm going to pay for it.

So all my plans to write lots of random crap about Vegas at Christmas time were thwarted. I did say to Claire I should try to find some net access and at least put up a post to explain, but then she pointed out that my reader was also stuck in Vegas with no net access.  Thanks.

I do have a notebook with a few scribbles and a few hundred photos to sort through as soon as I'm a bit more awake to do that so there'll be some retrospective holiday cheer to come. Before Twelfth Night too, with any luck. Here's a very quick summary, with elaborations to follow:

Two final tables, two cashes and two bustouts with pocket kings - which I'll try to argue I couldn't avoid - from 7 tournaments. Christmas lunch is just dinner with a couple more turkeys served at lunchtime.  Wayne Newton is still a Vegas legend, but it would be nice if he could still actually sing.

I found a link to the fireworks we missed here: http://tinyurl.com/swega.  Bear with the commercial - it's worth watching.  My New Years Eve was celebrated with the pilot reading out the most pathetic countdown you ever heard and a plane half-full of passengers mumbling a bit.  Nobody dared sing Auld Lang Syne, or lift up their top.  Happy New Year.