So I'm back and mostly recovered from my triumphant tour of Vegas, and where to begin...And before I write anything else, I am fully aware that whatever happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, but what the f!@# fun would that be!
I'm sure as certain people read that last line, there were collective cringes going on all across America. 
Having never been to Vegas before in my life for some inexplicable reason, I'll just start with a few observations:
#1- There are no ugly women in Vegas. Truthfully there may be some some, but they are nicely concealed behind shitloads of smokingly gorgeous ones.
In these photos: Women that 99% of you have absolutely no chance with
#2-Strangely enough, The Spearmint Rhino has nothing at all to do with either spearmint or rhinos for the matter. But there were a lot of foxes, cougars, chicks, and similar type wildlife spotted there. Gotta say, it must easily be Las Vegas' best zoo.
#3-You really can bet on anything. For instance, If I had bet that almost everyone who had committed to joining me, Scott Fleming, and a few other of the NFBC notable, die-hards for the regular evening festivities that we had planned each night would crap out on us; that Greg and Tom would be like fish out of water there; that Shawn Childs would walk around looking like Dustin Hoffman reprising his role in "Rain Man"; that virtually everyone that met me for the first time would instantaneously rip on me for something; and on the over that Greg would use the word "folks" 100 times in his welcoming speeches over the course of the weekend...I'd be a wealthy man right now!
#4-The best free entertainment starts about 10:00 p.m. in the lobby of the Bellagio. Forget the carnival or the circus, just take a seat and enjoy the freak show for as long as you'd like. Intermission consists of various and sundry call girls, escorts, prostitutes, and pimps and ho's. How can you tell the these ladies of the evening from the "normal" women among the masses? Easy: they are the only ones wearing impossible 5-6 inch heels and attached at the hip to the 5'5" tall ugly, fat, and usually balding guys.
In this photo: Todd Zola in Vegas (I have a feeling that I'm going to pay for this one come this Friday night).
#5-Executive Vice President, Steve Byrd of STATS LLC (that would be Greg and Tom's boss) is a definitely a guy you want to party with. Let's just say it took about 10 seconds to convince him to join us on the bus for our little excursion to the zoo Thursday night. I wish I could relate more details than that, but I cannot for risk of being permanently punted from this competition or worse
. One of the highlights of the evening was when an indignant Mr. Byrd was unhappy that one of his main men was not on the bus with us. So he preceded to call Tom Kessenich's cell phone. He got Tom's voice mail, and the message went something like this:Steve Byrd, EVP, STATS LLC: "Tom, this is your boss calling. It's not reflecting well on your job performance that you are not joining your boss and some of your top clientele out for the evening tonight. C'mon! What's the matter with you? You're a 49 year-old single man. Why are you home tonight playing with your cats?" Classic.
The rest of us in the bus couldn't resist after that as we all preceded to pile on with additional messages of our own in succession from our phones. Tom was more than perplexed the next day as to why he had gotten seven messages on his cell phone berating him and calling his manhood into question in various ways. All in good fun, Tom. All in good fun.
In this photo: The pussy that Tom got last Thursday night
Back to Shawn Childs; for all the incessant ripping he endured from me for the weekend, he got the last laugh when he managed to humiliate me further on my penchant for drafting Matt Garza late so many times over the course of the weekend who he hates and insists will be injured throughout this season. Scott Fleming pointed out much to his amusement that after we had walked from the draft rooms all the way through the casino to the sports book, that Childs had managed to paste a "Matt Garza, P", draft sticker on my back. At least it didn't say, "kick me" on it.
Funny how Childs was nowhere to be found after that little shenanigan. 
First ImpressionsTruly the best part about being out in Vegas was meeting so many people out there for the first time. Guys that you have only gotten to know over the years only through email, text, draft room chat, and perhaps an occasional phone call or two. I made it a point to try to introduce myself to and hang out a bit with as many guys as possible while I was in Vegas. So here are my thoughts on all my new found friends.
Bob Particelli: Poor bastard got stuck drafting in the same league as me all four times I drafted while I was there. Can't understand why he was reluctant to give me his cell number to keep in touch throughout the season afterwards. He finally caved and gave it to me. He said it was 867-5309. I must keep getting his mom or sister, because there is only a woman that picks up when I call. I need to check with him on this...
KJ Duke: Nice fellow, Brought his lovely wife with him to the drafts to eat a lot of cobbler and other desserts from what I could tell. Avoided me like the plague for the most part.
Dave Potts: Unassuming country bumpkin turned country singer and NFBC overall champ. Get the feeling that I was a bit too loud and overwhelming for the guy. Go figure.
Gaetan Lavoie: One guy who didn't fit the description of what I thought he would look like: An overweight French guy with a striped black and white shirt, a Napoleon III Imperial mustache, and beret, he wasn't. But still a nice chap nonetheless, and as touchy feely as they come...although he didn't pinch my ass or anything like that.
Matt Anderson: Part red-neck, part disco. Guy knows how to have fun.
Glenn Schroter: Even though I'd met him briefly before last year in NYC, really got to hang with him a bit and get to know him in Vegas. The verdict: Never saw a guy drink, gamble, schmooz, and hustle like this guy can while still being able to draft as good as he does.
Dan Semsel: Retiring Colonel, US Air Force. A fire hydrant of a man, two words best describe him: "Chick Magnet". Was reportedly seen in multiple places at once at the Rhino somehow.
Chad Schroeder: Nice guy, pleasant and friendly...but never once saw him sober the entire weekend, and that includes before, during, and after the drafts!
Jim Christie: Skinny old fart who drafts just as shitty live as he does on line. But we're still friends...at least until he reads this.
Jim Ferrari: Why is it that every guy about his age from California comes off as a stoned out of his mind ex-surfer dude?
Donn Johnson: Got to draft next to him one draft. With a name like this, I was picturing a Miami Vice type guy. Dead wrong. More like a Florida retirement community type guy. (That means like old as dirt)
But very nice to talk to between his bed pan changes and apple sauce. Sorry. Couldn't resist. Just racked up a few more hell demerits. Joe Berg: Came as advertised. Loud, obnoxious, and rude...wait I just may have described myself as well there.
Dan Kenyon: Wish I could find a way to rip on this guy, but meeting him in person, I now know why he is so beloved by all in this competition...despite his horrific diet choices.
Roger Martin: Great to meet Mia's dad and his lovely wife. Great guy. Came late to his first draft. Dead money which we'll all happily take!
Rick Thomas: Obviously in the tail end of his career. Needs a new piece of cardboard box. Please check out cardboardboxdraftsheets.com.
Great to finally meet the immortal, RT.And last but not least, I come to the one and only, Lindy Hinkelman. The man, the myth, the legend. We hit it off immediately of course, as most people do from Idaho pig farms when they meet me. I then proceeded to make the fatal flaw of inviting Lindy to go along with us to the Rhino. As I was told by his son, Gabe, who's warning I failed to heed, the two times that Lindy won the overall main event title, he had frequented the Rhino that same weekend. So it is now a forgone conclusion that he will be winning his third overall title this year.
I knew I should have just gotten the guy a prostitute or something instead. We also were both interviewed for a possible fantasy baseball reality show, which I am told that me, Lindy, and Hollywood Nick Cassavettes tested well for. I shared my idea for the premise with the creator which i think will be an instant hit: Mike the Mouth and Nick Cassavettes spend the entire baseball season shacked up with Lindy in his man cave/barn on his pig farm in Idaho. Mayhem ensues. An instant classic if you ask me!
In these photos: Scenes from the upcoming hit fantasy baseball reality show: "Like Pigs in Shit" starring Lindy Hinkelman
Could write a novel on this past weekend, but I'll just end things here for now. Post your comments, criticisms, feedback, etc. which are welcomed as always. Back with another installment soon.
-MTM
I hear that I could have been of service that night if I had stuck around a little longer. Something about a guy ass bumping you more than you are customarily used to in situations like that? Are sure it wasn't Gaetan? 
