I’m back from the Vegas trip, lighter by about $100 at the tables (thanks entirely to a bad run Sunday morning at the tables, one of those games where you get dealt a 19 with the dealer showing a 4, and the dealer draws four cards to a 20…), and heavier by well, quite a bit, probably, as I rather comprehensively went off the heartburn diet for the weekend.
While the laws of statistics continue to work in the house’s favor, medicine remains a mystery. The official medical advice I got was to avoid alcohol, carbonated beverages, overeating, fried or oily food, and spicy food. Saturday, I had about fifteen beers, an early dinner of nachos and fried chicken fingers, and a late dinner at the Wolfgang Puck brand pan-Asian restaurant at Caesar’s Palace, featuring among other things a dish called “firecracker shrimp”. Heartburn/ reflux report: Not a thing. No trouble to speak of.
Go figure. Maybe if you do everything wrong at once, the bad effects all cancel out?
Anyway, while I am officially back, I’m completely wiped. My flight home was delayed, so I didn’t get back until 2am. I’ve got two classes this morning, followed by a colloquium from a job candidate, an interview with said candidate, and a meeting with my research student later this afternoon. Followed by complete collapse, most likely.
Don’t expect much, blog-wise.
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Being relaxed mentally and physically sometimes has more to do with reducing acid production than stomach contents, at least based on thirty plus years of personal observation, which is nonetheless annecdotal and uncontrolled.
Damn, I wanted to go to that Puck place last time I was there, too. How was it?
“Saturday, I had about fifteen beers”
Say no more. I salute you.