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FEATURING...

 
dad (big dig)
 
g
 
grellan
 
leslie
 
Monday June 13, 2005

"so we meet again, Mohegan Sun" (plus bonus Cape Cod roadtrip)



Two weeks ago it was a Cape trip with a Mohegan Sun pitstop. This weekend was a Mohegan Sun trip with pitstop at the beach. I mean, last time we stopped at 'The Sun they were just giving away money. This time we returned with what we thought was better calculated luck thanks to Grellan's newly acquired Beat the Craps Table manual.



Leslie spend some quality time in shotgun studying up the differences between the Big Red and the Big 6.



I took advantage of the slow moving 95 scene to brush up on my proposition bets.



10:45pm. We left the truck with the valet and we made our way to the tables.



12:30am. I'm down $140. Grellan, $120.

It wasn't our fault, I swear - the tables were cold. Despite masterfully-played dollar yos, $22 inside fours, nickle hard tens and $6 sixes and eights, we still left as losers.

Leslie lost her craps virginity, tossing the dice clear off the table on her first roll. (the pit boss actually had to borrow the stick from the stickman to rake them out from under the table)



To make it worse, Youngna was taunting us via the dball on our way out.



We didn't get to the cape till around 3:30am where we found Ms. G asleep on the couch.



My dad was down there already - painting up a storm for three days straight. We left him a breakfast-wishlist note before bed.



And awoke to this.

(ps: Dig did pick up some breakfast ingredients for us. Thanks dad!)



Saturday afternoon.



We found a dead fish. (a solid 3-feet long!)



And stayed till around 5pm.



We came home to find Big Dig digging.



He and his pal were installing new clothes lines, etc.



Grellan vs. The Sunburn.



Took one car to dinner, poor Dig had to squeeze in the way back.



What was the name of the place? The Yard Arm? (er, Yahd Ahrm?). We ate like winners: Quahogs, chowdah, skrimps...



... cajun snapper, fried up little clams.



Slept in till 11am on saturday + shitty overcast day = time for the $2 flea market. Leslie got a necklace. Stoopid Grellan bought something but wouldn't show us what it was. How mysterious!



Post fleamarket, we went on a mission to find come The BeachComber in Wellfleet.



8 mixed drinks + two mini apps + delicious lobester roll (for real) = more than we expected.



G + Grellan + Leslie = half ass photo effort.



This beach is on the Atlantic side of the cape (meaning bigger waves and much colder water - as in too-cold-to-stand-in).

Weird, but when the water rolls in and then out...



... all these little holes appear. Leslie swore the holes were air bubbles from some crustacean buried in the water. I don't believe it (though I guess it makes sense)



Operation: Dig Up Little Crustaceans = unsuccessful.



The hike back up to the parking lot.



Back at the house. Our master plan was to leave the cape a little early in the hopes of winning our money back at Mohegan. I studied up while grilling some chicken.



Grellan doublefisting craps knowledge and potato salad.

We never made it back to Mohegan. We didn't leave Eastham till 8:45 or so (ugh) and I didn't get back to my apt till 2am. Sleeeeppy. (You know, we should probably be thanking Leslie and her lucky pillow for keeping us away from that den of sin a second time.)


Mon 6/13 @ 12:08 PM | # link| Comments (0)
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