Dubuque was great! Well, not so great as the last time, but a good time was had by all. We also saw CAL and he even played craps with us!
From the top? Ok.
Wwhazz, Lawman and I raced out of town Friday afternoon with a gleam in our eye and the rising feevah. Oh, we played it cool; we sauntered into The Canfield Hotel and answered all questions asked: where we were from, how we were doing, if we knew not to park next to the hotel because they like to keep that lot open for the karaoke patrons, if we had ID, if I knew what kind of name ‘Moneypenny’ was, if we had any singers in our group, if I would retrieve the front desk worker to watch when I returned from dinner and sang, how many people we had with us, when were they arriving, which room did we want, if we wanted this in one credit card transaction or two, and so on and so forth.
Once we were safely ensconced in 227 we unpacked a bit and decorated. On one wall, a 1992-1993 Milwaukee Bucks poster. On the refrigerator, Will Purdue’s size 27 shoe. And IN the fridge? Oh, look closely to your right and you’ll see the treasures buried there.
Soon we were out and about, headed towards Mystique Casino- which is really hands-down the greatest casino in Dubuque. Whatever little Internet cred I have I would like to cash in now in order to say: Mystique equals GREAT and Diamond Jo’s equals DUMP.
The watchword of the weekend: see-saw. Sally saw seashells by the seashore, and then she watched me dump five bills two hours before a triumphant six fold score. Sally, WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING~! I only had two non-craps experiences this time: I won $80 playing roulette and the next day I got straight-up mugged by a blackjack dealer for like a hundo in five minutes. Sad, really, that they had to resort to such skullduggery.
The high(low)light of the trip was when we went to Diamond Jo’s and got treated like scum by their ever-dour team of meanmugging dealers and boxmen. No jokes from that crew and lots of being yelled at for the smallest of infractions. Example: I had been betting $1 Any bets off and on, but pretty consistently. At one point I decided late to bet and reached for my chips. I fumbled grabbing a white chip but, being just at Stick Right I said aloud “dollar any” while the dice were in the air and tossed the chip onto the table before the dice landed. The boxman yelled “NO BET THAT’S NO BET” and then sternly lectured me on when bets could and couldn’t be made. Look, FUCK YOU Diamond Jo’s craps pit; I have booked verbal DOLLAR-FUCKING-ANY bets from Ho-Chunk to Vegas and back. It’s an 11.11% house edge and it’s a 7-to-1 payout on ONE FUCKING DOLLAR. And you’re going to call my bet off and, even worse, give me grief over it? When I’m betting hardways for your dealers all night? How about you just eat shit and die?
At the far opposite end of the scale from the terrible, rude service at Diamond Jo’s Casino was the once-again stellar time we enjoyed at Mystique Casino. The craps crew working over the weekend was in large part the same folks we had a great time with last December. Really fun crew all around, and even though we only roll through once or twice a year we were even remembered by some of the people. We had a few good rolls, a few great rolls, and a few not-so-great rolls, but we had a fun-as-hell time there.
It may be heresy, but the idea that we stay at Mystique instead of the Canfield was even discussed. May not go anywhere, but that’s how much we hate Diamond Jo’s now. Don’t go there; it is terrible.
Anyway, lah-dee-dah and all that- we headed out rather early Sunday morning to get back to Madison for a joint-baby shower-slash-Packer-game. Packers won handily, which was great, because I wasn’t in the greatest head space after a weekend of fooling around in Dubuque.
Ugh, well, we got the news that Braun was roiding (or whatever, dude was drinking some kind of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde potion) as we sat at the bar in Champagne, eating steaks and listening to wwhazz bitch about being made small of by the host at the entrance. All of our cells started buzzing incessantly as Cubs fans from all over the country poured on the scorn. Whatever, jerks, soon you’ll have Prince Fielder and you can cackle all the way to another mid-division finish in 2012.
I returned home to find that the Brewers had signed Aramis Ramirez to a 3-year deal, and just this morning the Crew traded MAGUHAHEEEEEEEE to the Pirates for a pitcher. I’m worried about Tony Plush, but I have FAITH~! that the Great Mustache will make the right decision and extend his contract.