Wynn and Encore, collectively known as Enwynn hypes their beds. Dream beds they calls 'em. Pretty snappy.
They are actually pretty goddamn dreamy. Best bed ever. I'm taking one home in my carry on.
We've stayed on Eastern time because of all the stupid Veeblefetzer C.O.C. manipulating and testing that I've been doing. So up early again today, five or so. I ran down to get coffee from the Drugstore thingy. It pains me that with tip, my morning latte is running about $10 Canadian. That's a lot for a jolt.
I did my calls and then started fooling with the C.O.C. controls, watching Kenny Blankenship trying to get his finger out of a size 9 grommet that had rolled over to our line.
If you know anything about grommets, you know that rule number one is never to put your finger (or anything else) in a size 9 grommet!
I berated Kenny over the C.O.C. intercom system, which is called Reach Around. Sometimes at Royal Canadian Veeblefetzer, I feel like I am the victim of an elaborate multi-year TV hoax.
I managed to fake work while writing up yesterdays scintillating events, and then we headed for some breakfast at Terrace Point.
The setting was really nice, it wasn't too hot out yet, and there were plenty of birds to attack your food while you ate. I had the Eggs n Ranch Stuff in a Pot with Sauces, which is Wynn's fancy-pants name for Huevos Rancheros. QQ had an omelette, which was ok, but just ok. It looked pretty pedestrian, if a plain omelette could walk. And see.
|Huevos in a Pot with Sauces and Stuff|
|Pedestrian omelette crossing.|
|Tippi Hedren's table.|
|The hold of the Century. Apparently I need more coffee. Oopsies.|
|Unusual cloud with colors in.|
That's eight quads for me.
Quad Queen's tally:
Had the earth shifted on its access? Had the Huevos Rancheros imbibed me with some sort of Super Quad Savvy? All I know is that Mrs. F. was awfully frustrated at getting her ass kicked. The money goes fast when the quads don't come. She'd gone through three or four hundred already. Meanwhile I was surfing along pretty much breaking even, or up a bit.
We changed areas and I got another. Just like flippin' pancakes.
Finally, QQ hit something - a straight flush.
There we were, mid-afternoon, still collectively losing (Mrs. F was down $600 on the day already, her whole stake). What the heck to do?
Go shopping for razor blades at T.I.s new CVS, I guess. I wanted to have a cigar, so we'd play a bit more, have a couple of drinks, I'd have my smoke away from QQ's sensitive body cells, and then we'd see.