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Saturday, November 3, 2012

You have to lubricate

Woke up on Bonus Day number one, Tuesday, feeling great. I'd gone through the 'I'm leaving Vegas' denial, bargaining, anger and depression stages, and at the last minute, Governor Air FU Canada gave me a reprieve.

Instead of blowing $10 at the bar to get a coffee like I did the day before, I strolled (triumphantly) to the escalator and went upstairs to Lapperts to get a latte on bConned points. They make a pretty good latte and the staff, as it is everywhere at the Cal, is friendly. I also picked up another new Hawaiian treat to try - a Malasada.

I took my breakfast back to the room, and grabbed a 40 game 50-cent Keno ticket on the way, so I could be in action in my room while I ate.

The Malasada looks like a scrumptious ball of deep-fried dough slathered with sugar. Upon tasting it, however, I found that the Malasada is actually a scrumptious ball of deep-fried dough slathered with sugar. These could become addictive very easily.

Just as I was about to head out to gamble, the flusher fone rang its custom ring-tone. What I heard was the bellow of a Canadian female moose in heat.

That meant Norbert (that self-important shmuck who married the plant owner's daughter) was calling - no doubt because he didn't have any clue how to fix the continuing problems on the size 77 Euro-grommet line back at North American Veeblefetzer.

Sure enough, I spent all morning, and a good part of the afternoon explaining how to lubricate the line's springenwerks. Springenwerk ball bearings have to be lubricated regularly but they are hard to get at, being located underneath the support legs of the grommet line, below the collector bin, on the conveyor system. And, like all heavy machinery, there were grease nipples that had to be lubricated as well.

Good thing I had my 40 game keno ticket to make the morning slightly bearable.

"Norbert, you have to lubricate."

"Lubricate. Right."

"Get a tube of the all purpose grommet line grease - the thick, heavy, smelly stuff. Jimmy Poon knows where it is. Load it in the grease gun hanging on the peg board. It's the thing that looks like the illegal Uzi you have at your Norbert mansion to keep robbers from breaking in and playing with your model train layout in the basement or from making wienerschnitzel with your wife."

"Funny. Got it right here, Flusher."

"Okay. Now listen. You've got to reach up between the legs and get it on the balls, really good. Really grease them up. Once you think you have enough grease on the balls, get some back between the legs and behind the balls. There's a crack there that has to be thoroughly covered, or you'll have squeaking, rubbing, and chafing, and then the grommets won't drop out, or if they do, they'll be mis-shaped. Then find the nipples and fit the end of the grease gun over them and give each one a good squirt. There should be two of them, a ways above the balls. Let that soak in and give each nipple another squirt or two."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Norbert listen to me. You have to lubricate your balls if you want your grommets. You don't want this order of size 77 Euro-grommets to be late, do you???"

"But... I don't know... I'm not sure I want to do all that."

"Norbert. We're going to lose this order if you don't lubricate like I told you. You might miss a payment on your Ferrari and they could repossess it. That means you lose the Backstreet Boys channel on your XM radio. You don't want to lose the Backstreet Boys, now do you?"

"No... I guess not."

"Okay. Then get cracking."

Norbert slammed the phone down with an ear-deafening thunk and then I could hear some voices in the background.

Then Jimmy Poon got on the line.

"Hey Royal!"

'"Jimmy! That you?"

"Yeah, you having a good time in Vegas, eh?'

"Great time Jimmy. I had a Malasada for breakfast."

"Never heard of a Malasada. What is it? It sounds like a scrumptious ball of deep-fried dough slathered with sugar."

"It is Jimmy. That's exactly what it is."

"Hey Royal?... Norbert just took the loaded grease gun with him to the Executive Washroom."

I headed out for lunch and took a quick VP break, hitting this nice straight flush:

I decided to try yet another new to me Hawaiian specialty - which was the special, which I could get free with my Aloha! hospitality coupon book. It was called Chicken Longrice with Lau Lau.
 I asked about what it was, heard something about ginger broth and pork and said, sure I'd give it a try.

The broth thing was amazing. A gingery broth with all kinds of prizes including pieces of chicken. Absolutely delicious. The 'longrice' was vermicelli noodles. Now the name made sense.

Then the leaves arrived. Clearly, the Lau Lau meant some kind of meat - probably pork, since she'd said it was pork - wrapped up in backyard compost leaves.

The server dropped it off and said wisely, "You don' eat tha leaves. Eat inside tha leaves, no the leaves." Well, no shit. I wasn't born yesterday. I don't eat any kind of leaf. (Unless it is a bay leaf.)

I started poking around inside the leaves and came up with a hunk of salty pork that tasted like a fish loading dock in the hot summer sun. I ate it but I didn't want to. Which begs the question, why did I eat it.

I don't actually know why. I guess I didn't want to offend the Aloha spirit Gods.

I went back up to the room and spent half an hour calming down a screaming Norbert while Jimmy Poon lubricated the grommet line. They knew all along what was wrong, they were just taking the piss. I managed to get off the phone and get down to Main Street Station for some blackjack.

I bought in for $40 and didn't bother giving my players card in. My plan was to try to make a quick hit and a big profit on a minimal buy-in and I didn't want it on my rating.

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