crazy vegas adventures

[pxmcc]

The Final Chapter-Part 3

So Rory accepts this pair of big pimpin shoes from this pimped out brother Deon, and walks back to the table with the now shoeless Deon. When Rory gets back to the table, Marcus Washington, former starting linebacker and Pro Bowler for the Redskins, and everyone else at the table give him a standing ovation. Rory got his favorite shooting spot back, 2 left of stick, and Deon, sans shoes, returned to his spot next to Marcus. Rory put his stuff down and dropped his 35,000 or so into his rails. He throws down a grey chip (5000) and calls out,"Check change 5,000. No action. Give me all colors." So one of the dealers counts out his change and pushes it to Rory. He stacks it in his rails.


I interject, "So now you've got 35 grand in your rails on a dice table at the MGM Grand. How much did Marcus Washington have in his rails?"

Rory replied, "I couldn't say for sure, but best guess, I'd say about 2 million in his rails."

I wanted to clarify something. "So out of his 2 million, how much had you won him, ballpark, on your shooting?"

He replied, "Best guestimate, I'd say about 3/4 of his chipstack, about 1.5 million."

I mutter to myself. "So what the fuck happened them?"

Rory continued. "The game fell into a familiar rhythmm. A lot of choppy shooters. I wasn't betting too much. Mostly just watching. Honestly, i was just waiting for the dice to get back to me, since I was the hot shooter."

I interjected. "So what did you do once you got the dice?"

Rory continued. "So when i got the dice, I was tempted to go all in, but thought it would be better to get shooting rhythm first. So i did table minimums, full odds. I think they were offering 5× odds on all bets. Hit 2 points back to back, so decided to pull the trigger. Put 2000 flat on my next Come Out roll. Threw the 5. Put 10,000 odds behind the 5. Dropped 2000 on the Come, threw a 6. Pushed 10,000 odds on the 6. Dropped another 2,000 Come bet, threw an 8. Dropped 10,000 odds behind the 8."

At this point I'm shaking my head in disbelief. "So let me get this straight. You've got 36,000 in bets on the table. How much did you have in your rails at that point?"

Rory gave me the answer i expected. "I didn't have jack shit in the rails. Like 100$. Frickin tip money."

I confirmed. "So you've got $36,000 in bets on the table, and $100 in your rails. What happened then?"

"Well because I'm the hot shooter, everyone is betting big on me. I noticed one guy at the far end of the table had a stack of greens that was a good 4" high odds bet that was kinda leaning over."

I clarified. "You and I both know that if you hit that stack of greens (25s), you're gonna seven out as sure as you're alive. (There is a saying among dice shooters-roll in the money, bounces funny-which means if you hit a big chip stack like that, you will have major randomness, encouraging the 7.) Why didn't you ask him to flatten his odds with blacks (100s) or a purple (500)?"

Rory replied, "Well I didn't want to mess up the flow of the game. I was in the zone, so I figured I'd take my chances."

Transfixed, I asked, "What happened then?"

Rory continued. "You could hear a pin drop. I set the dice, a hardways set, 3s over fives."

I was like, "Damn straight. If I had 36,000 on the table, I'd make damn sure I was using a hardways set. By the way, 3s over 5s is probably the best set for your numbers, 5, 6 and 8. Without a Come bet to worry about, I like the 2s over 4s as well. So did you stick it, one shot, one kill?"

"Well I took forever. Pit bosses and dealers were cool as shit. Not rushing me at all. Perfect throw, 22 for a hard 4."

I replied, "Good omen. Setting hardways, hitting hardways!"

"Ya a lot of people made money. Course I didn't have anything on the 4. I kept shooting like this and kept hitting outside numbers, 9s, 10s, 4s, even a couple yo 11s."

I interrupted. "Did you think about changing your set?"

"Ya i did. I went 5s over 3s, then 2s over 4s, didn't matter. Kept hitting outside numbers, but none of my numbers."

I interrupted. "Did you think about pulling your odds and passing the dice?"

"Ya I even thought about that. But had I done that, I would still have 6000 in flat bets exposed. Since I was the best shooter on the table, it made sense for me to keep shooting."

I nodded my head in agreement. "Yup, been there, done that. So then what happened?"

Rory paused for a second.

(To be continued. Stay tuned....)

[pxmcc]

I know i shouldn't ask this, but why did Sonya get banned? She aint my type; (those of you who know me know my thing is petite spinners with big booties lol), but she seemed cool as shit. I'm like bummed she got banned, if she really did.

Meantime, any petite spinners with big booties, feel free to hmu lol. Sometimes i like some variety from my gals, who just so happen to all be, waddaya know, petite spinners with big booties lol. Who knew. But Denise n i had a nice throwdown, so she got booted, even though she is truly the most amazing petite spinner with a big booty ever. She shows up later in the story, so stay tuned. Lol. I dunno, but if she's on board, i don't have a problem giving her number out to selected hobbyists. She the finest gal i've met on bp, and possibly in my entire hobby career. Her body is straight up just fucking crazy. She has like a zillion followers on Instagram. When we were in Vegas together, guys were literally salivating over her. With my mentoring, she's a freak for greek. Anyone who has a chance to hit that booty would be crazy to pass it up. I did a 3some with her and another one of my gals who ran track at tsu. It was a total bucket list session and one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I never wrote a review because both gals were UTR. My bucket list session with 2 track stars. Now i can die with a huge dopey grin on my face. Lol.

[pxmcc]

The Final Chapter-Part 4

So Rory has 36,000 in bets spread across 3 num
bers, the 5, 6 and 8, and 100$ in his rails. He set the dice. Took forever. As quiet as inside a church. The throw. A good throw, but far from perfect. One of the dice got tangled up in the air. It tried its mightiest to clear the chipstacks at the far end of the table, like an F-18 trying to clear the deck for a perfect carrier landing. Instead, it came down nose first at an awkward pitch. Time slowed down. A fraction of a second became an eternity. The obscene stack of greens, leaning sideways, lurked below. As to that idiot who made that bet, the kindest thing I can say about him is if he had a brain, he'd be dangerous. The landing was not pretty. Greens flew everywhere. Rory could not bring himself to look. He ran a hand through his hair and waited for the call, resigned to his fate, whatever it might be.

"Seven out! Line away. Take the Line. Pay the Don'ts," the stickman barked peremptorily, unceremoniously.

I'm shaking my damn head. I look over at Denise. She's shaking her damn head. Then, out of the corner of my mouth, I barely crack a smile. "Well at least you got a decent pair of pimp shoes, huh?"

Rory nods and smiles wryly and points at the shoes. I got a full grin on my face now. But I don't like beating around the bush, so I come straight to the point. "So how much you got in your pockets right now?", fully expecting him to say nada a damn red cent.

"400 bucks," he offers without emotion.

"400 bucks? Hell you quadrupled up! That's a helluva accomplishment!"

"Nope. I lost my last 100. The 400 was all tips from other players."

It's 3 in the afternoon. I had texted Rory around midnight the previous night to see what I should do. "What the hell time did you go bust?"

"Around 3 am."

"When did you leave the frickin tables?"

"Ten minutes ago."

I'm amazed. Rory and I are both action players. We want the dice. We want our own table. We're both fine with a crowd watching and every frickin pit boss in joint shitting bricks while we're in a zone. But neither of us is gonna sit at a table and watch after we went bust. So I know there's more to the story.

"Who in the fuck was making your line bets?"

"Marcus. Ya he said he would keep making my line bets until I couldn't raise my arm anymore. I made him around 8 million."

"Holy smokes!", I exclaimed. "Damn I really wish you woulda texted me back!" I look over at Denise, then back to Rory. "Ya Denise and I were arguing again, so I couldn't even get some smoking hot black booty as my consolation prize."

Rory flashes me a smirk, while Denise rolls her eyes and gives me this what the fuck ever look. I wink at her. "Just because you're a bitch doesn't make your booty any less of a masterpiece." She cracks a smile and shakes her damn head.

(To be continued...)

[pxmcc]

Fyi instagram daphwashere

My legal research indicates that no actionable breach of privacy has occurred. Outing like Wakeup? Not so much. Plus, she wants you to follow her on Instagram, so go right ahead! I would if i was the following type. Unfortunately, I follow no one. But if i did, i'd prefer to follow daphwashere. Lol

Yes the pics are real. Lol. I think her measurements are 36C-18-34, or thereabouts with a 38 inch booty. Ya i didn't know that was possible either. Lol. Reminds me of Nylah Lee not in her body type, but in her "I didn't know real people could look like that" proportions. Lol. Alas, Nylah Lee is a flake and Denise (well her real name is Daphne-still no breach of privacy in my professional opinion though) is, well lemme see how I can put this tactfully, yes to say it tactfully, a cold bitch. There, I said it. A monkey off my back.

Oh ya, btw, the pic of me and Denise under the sphinx, that wasn't a monkey under my arm (or on my back, for that matter), although I must say, I do love cute monkeys. Maybe I'll get one, take it to Vegas, and shoot pics with it under my arm, while posing under the Sphinx with my hotty of the month. Nor was it a man purse, though now that i know such things exist, i must get one! It was a leather jacket I got in Florence, or more to the point, Firenze.

As to the selfie with Rich, yes I got one. Anyone who can post, plz pm me.

Thx for sticking with me! What the hell happened to all the haters? Umm, no, how bout we let sleeping dogs lie. Lol. I could really get used to this peace and quiet! Lol. But i can see from the page view count that we still have some hobbyists who are enjoying my pulp fiction-esque vegas adventures! The story aint over cause the fat lady aint sung yet! Does Rory make an epic comeback after dropping 36,000, 5000 in gift money and 31,000 in won money? Stay tuned!

Georgio, you still with us? Sorry to go MIA for 6 months. I can't help myself; I'm zen like that. If I'd banned myself for a year, that woulda been all she wrote. Because I balance justice with mercy, I only gave myself a 6 month ban. Lol.

[pxmcc]

The Final Chapter-Part 5

I'm just in shock. "So you go bust at the MGM after going up by 36,000 and retired Redskins Pro-bowler Marcus Washington is making your line bets? Insanity. Total frickin insanity."

Rory nodded his head and laughed. "Yes it was, all that and more."

I'm still shaking my damn head. "You shoulda texted me back. If I was there, it woulda been a tug of war. Future Navy Seal (him) and general purpose crazy mo fo (me) versus the pimp (Deon) and the Monster (Marcus). They would not have stood a chance." (Footnote in the interest of full disclosure. My versus pimp record is not too good; I stand 0-1 as of this writing, by unanimous decision on the judges' score cards. But there was neither a KO nor a tap out, in my defence.)

Rory's grin stretched ear to ear, while Denise is laughing. I'm describing the 4 man tug-o-war in the middle of the casino floor at the MGM, two wiry honkies, one pimp in his pinstripe black and white suit with matching shoes and an NFL linebacker with millions in chips falling out of his pockets all over the casino floor. While we're wrestling, I query Deon: "What in the hell is a Navy Seal gonna do with your damn igga pimp shoes? He's shows up for black ops wearing those shoes, he's gonna be the laughing stock of his whole Seal Team!"

So that night, I said aight, we're taking ur damn igga pimp shoes with us to the casinos, and I'll be damned if those igga pimp shoes don't bring us fortune. Rory agreed. The shoes were too small for his feet, so he asked me to try 'em on. I told him I'd be honored. They fit good, and when I looked in the full length mirror, I saw an igga pimp staring back at me. "Shoes are proper," I told Rory and Denise. Denise was like, "If you wear those shoes, I'm not going to act like I know you." I reply, "Fine. Stay in the hotel. Isn't that why you came to Vegas, after all?"

Even though the shoes fit, I figured that walking on the strip and shooting dice for hours in these igga pimp shoes might damn near do my feet in. So told Rory I was gonna bring my comfy sneaks for a backup. At the appointed hour, after a steak and shrimp meal at the MGM Grand courtesy of Rory's comps, we prepared to embark. "You ready to rock-n-roll?", I queried Rory. "Yup, good to go." "Aight, let's go seek our fortune." We bid Denise a warm goodbye, and headed out to find our fortune, igga pimp shoes proudly adorning my feet.

(To be continued...)

[pxmcc]

The Final Chapter-Part 6

So Rory and I headed out to try our luck at the dice tables, with me wearing his hard-earned pimp shoes. And it wasn't but 10 to 15 minutes after walking on the Strip before my feet started to hurt. So I asked Rory to hold up a minute while I changed into my comfy sneaks, and after that I carried the pimp shoes in my hand.

We passed a bum on the street. All of a sudden Rory stops me, and he's got this weird look on his face. I look right at him, some gears turn in my brain, and I bust out in a ridiculous grin. I speak first, but I'm laughing so hard I can barely get the words out: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He's like, "No way." I nod my head. "Yup, let's do it."

We turn around and start heading back the way we came. When we get back to the homeless guy, I extend my hand. I said, "My name is px, this is my nephew Rory, and we noticed that your shoes are a little old."

And he extends his grimy hand and says, "My name is Roger, and you're right about that, my shoes have seen better days."

And I said, "Well Roger this is your lucky day, because you are about to get a pair of $1,000 Fellini alligator skin (pimp-<hmm might have left that out>) shoes. You have no idea what my nephew had to go through to get these shoes."

And tears start streaming down Roger's face. He gives Rory and I big hugs, and out of the blue, starts quoting Scripture. The Sermon on the Mount, with the full Beautitudes. Then he moves on to the 23rd Psalm: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil: for though art with me..." Well I don't what it is about the 23rd Psalm, but something about Roger the Bum reciting the 23rd Psalm on the Las Vegas Strip in the City of Sin, with tears running down his cheeks after receiving the igga pimp shoes, that got to be a little much for me, and I had to bid him a fond farewell before becoming an emotional basket case myself. As we walked away, Rory and I hi-fived each other.

That night, the gods of fortune did indeed smile on us. We shot the fuck out of the casinos. I tripled up, 1500 to 4500, and Rory quadrupled up, 400 to 1600. He never made it back to 36,000, but after that night of dice, he was +100 for the trip. Not bad, considering he had lost his last $100 on the dice tables the night before, and it was only the kindness of the other players that accounted for his $400 bankroll. As to my personal opinion? Ya, the shoes brought us good fortune. It was definitely the shoes.

As we were walking back to the hotel as the sun was coming up, Rory asked me if I played Texas Hold 'Em. I said nope, only dice. He asked me if I would play Hold Em. I said nope, that I would probably blow my dice winnings on Hold Em. He replied: "I tell you what. I'm gonna give you a 60$ bankroll from my dice winnings and all you gotta do is sit down and play." "Well heck, if you're gonna give me free money to play Hold 'Em, you got a deal." Then I added, "Have you ever heard the concept of playing Hold 'Em as a team?" He said no. So as we made our way up the elevators to our room, I explained the concept of team Hold 'Em. When we got back to the room, Denise was just getting up while we were drawing the blinds, like a couple of vampires.

(To be continued..Btw, if you don't like the thread, why are you reading this? That makes you a dumb fucktard imo)

[pxmcc]

Final Chapter-Part 7

So the next day we formulate a plan. Rory would sit down first on one side of the table, and I would grab a spot on the other side of the table a couple minutes later. I came down about 15 minutes after him. There were a lot of players there. I got my chips and tried to get a read on the table.

When it comes to gambling styles, everyone has their own style. You have your very conservative, conservative, moderate, moderately aggressive, aggressive, very aggressive, and finally kamikaze. My style leans toward kamikazi.

I had a hand that was pretty decent. Pocket queens. A guy who raised aggressively before the flop was probably planning on taking down the pot before the flop. Nope. I'm all in. Before the flop. He folded. Everyone folded. I took down the pot. Ok so now I know I'm the craziest guy at the table. Good to know. Built up a decent little chip stack from that.

Two hands later, I'm dealt 9,2. Garbage cards. I manage to make it to the flop without spending too much. No one is showing much early strength. The flop comes: queen, 9,8. I pair my 9s. I'm worried about the overcard queen. Decide to test the waters. Lead with an early big bet. Everyone folds or calls. No one raises. So either no one has the queen, or someone is laying a trap. I follow my instincts that my 9s are good. The turn comes a 5. Big sigh of relief. At least not another overcard. Bet comes to me. I push my entire chipstack in. "All in." Fold. Fold. Fold. Rory is already out of the hand. The guy next to him turns over his cards, without watching my reaction. He's got a 7,6 unsuited. I keep smiling, like egging him on, but I know I'm fucked big time. Dude's got a straight already, and I'm hopelessly behind in the hand. Rory springs into action. He turns to the guy on his left and says, "He's got you beat. He's got the jack 10 straight. Look at him, he looks like the cat that ate the canary! You should fold." I keep smiling, like egging him on to call. After like 5 agonizing minutes (for both of us, actually), he mucks his cards. I could not frickin believe it. The last player left at the table besides me says, "I call." I was stoked cause somehow I knew I had him beat. I stand up and flip my 9s. He flips his cards. He's got the 8s. I tell him that he's got nuts of steel to call with 2 overcards on the board. He said after the guy with the straight folded, he had to play it out! I was like ya me too, seeing as I'm already all in. We both stand up and wait for the river. I'm thinking no 8, no 4 (his 2nd card is a 4.) Came up ace. The chip stack that came my way was just obscene. I called no action and counted my chips. 420 bucks. Seven times upped. I throw the dealer a 10, get up, stuff my pockets, wish everyone good luck, and headed to the cage. Rory told me later that after I left, one of the other players asked, "Who the hell was that guy?" Rory replied with a straight face,"I think I saw him in the World Series of Poker." Lmfao.

I owed Rory big time. I bought him a 5 lb. bag of ghost chili peppers. He's addicted too.

I had told him that team Hold 'Em was fun, and he was dubious. Now he's a believer!

[pxmcc]

The Final Chapter, Last Part: The Great Race

The only other cool thing that happened among my crazy Vegas adventures was The Great Race. (Was that not the greatest movie ever?) So Denise is telling us about her great track and field exploits in high school, Tx 5A. She won district this, and placed in state that, etc. etc. Well she's built like a cheetah, so I had no reason to doubt her tales of conquest. And Rory is telling us some of the crazy shit he did to get ready for hell week: ran an ultramarathon (125 miles), did an Ironman Triathalon, 26.2 mile obstacle course, etc. etc.

So after hearing these tales of epic atheleticism by these 2 fitness freaks, the wheels start turning in my mind. "How bout we find out who really is the greatest athlete warrior?" They both nod their heads in agreement. So after wandering through one hotel after another, at about 2 in the morning, we stumble across the perfect venue. It's a downward moving escalator, an upward moving escalator, and some stairs at the Bellagio. There's no one around, so it's perfect for the showdown. Ebony track star vs. ivory Navy Seal. I bet Denise 1$ that she would lose, because I am partial to my tribe and Denise and I spent more time arguing than anything else, including booty worship. Lol.

I design the course. Stage 1 is down a flight of stairs. Stage 2 is up an escalator going backwards (opposite to the direction of the escalator.) Stage 3 is down an escalator going backwards. Runners are on board. I'm judge and jury. The runners take their positions on the starting blocks. I await them at the finish.

"On your marks. Get set. Go!" I fire the starting gun. They both take off flying. Rory is descending like 5 steps at a time. He looked like a mountain goat coming down a steep mountainside. Denise was flying too, but was only taking 3 steps at a time. Rory had a small lead coming round the turn. As he ascended the backwards moving escalator, Denise was only an arms length back. They were both killing themselves going up this escalator. Rory was only taking 2 steps at a time, and Denise only 1.

As they round the turn into stage 3, now Rory is leading by a good 6 feet. He starts Stage 3 the upwards moving escalator taking 3 steps at a time, while Denise can only take 2. In a desperate attempt to close the gap, Denise takes a huge leap down, loses her footing, and collapses on the escalator, which is now moving her away from the finish line. Rory crosses the finish line and I high five him, then we both point at and laugh at Denise, who by now is at the top of the escalator. In the ultimate act of surrender, she gives up and walks down the stairs. I congratulate her on her last place finish and demand my booty. (No not that kind of booty. Lol.)

Next morning the paper's lead: Navy Seal destroys Track Star in obstacle course at the Bellagio!

Thus ended my Crazy Vegas Adventures. As to the middle chapters, ya i might write those some time. Maybe...

[pxmcc]

I will be updating this thread with new Crazy Vegas Adventures. If anyone wants to spew negativity, please start your own thread and don't put it in mine. Ya'll are on notice as to that point.

[Wakeup]

Uh huh...sure...

[pxmcc]

Originally Posted by Wakeup

Uh huh...sure...

You have a problem with that WU? Why don't you tell me all about it-to my face-or stfu? You're a 40 year old man pussy and drama queen.

Oh by the way, can I fuck your wife while you watch, if I bring the right donation?

[pxmcc]

Originally Posted by pxmcc

You have a problem with that WU? Why don't you tell me all about it-to my face-or stfu? You're a 40 year old man pussy and drama queen.

Oh by the way, can I fuck your wife while you watch, if I bring the right donation?

Oh wait, did I just out you? Oh, my bad, bro!

[threshold]

[Wakeup]

Originally Posted by pxmcc

You have a problem with that WU?

You in particular? No. You issuing a directive putting people on notice about negatively commenting on the nasty black hoodrat skanks you're fucking? Comical.

Originally Posted by pxmcc

Oh wait, did I just out you? Oh, my bad, bro!

Nope...if you really knew anything about me and posted it here, you'd know real quick if you had outed me...

[pxmcc]

Thanks Thresh!

WU go start your own thread, about...well whatever the hell you want. Just get outta my face, cause your like a mosquito buzzing around my ear. You have a life, bro, or you just get off annoying people who do? lol.