Yesterday started out with some help for Pete; I'd called him up to see what he was doing, and it turns out that himself and Irwin were in his garage, working on his buggy. I came down to see if I could help--at least say hello. They were in there, sure as shit, and had the whole thing torn apart. Turns out that he decided to put a first-rate system in the thing, but since no one made one for his model, they had to fabricate a whole system and enclosure from scratch. (Including the need to keep the sand out, since there aren't any body panels, and Pete takes that thing places a goat wouldn't go.)

So they're both in there, covered to their cheeks in sawdust and solder, and they're much past the point where I could have helped. So I chatted, and ran down to the Indian colony to pick up some jerky and cigars, and chatted some more. As it stood, Irwin had gained from his mom (she's out of town) a $50 gift certificate to the restaurant at the Gold Dust casino. (The site of the old IGA that Pete was scheming to buy years ago, but passed on.) Himself and Tennessee had come out one night a few months back some forty grand up, the highest payout the casino has seen so far--their godawful pictures were up on the signboard forever, grinning like fools. (Tennessee bought himself new teeth and gambled away the rest; Irwin bought a nice .243 rifle.)

Anyway, so he has this certificate, and the expiration was 12/31/08. We told Pete, who had to go shower anyway, and headed down there. There's no refund on the thing, so we have to use it up, and did: two filets with fixin's ("hell, I love medium rare... you cut into it, and it makes its own gravy!"), then for the road, a breakfast burrito for him, and a french dip for me to take home to Big A (she's always hungry). Came to $48.95... perfect.

We came back to Pete's to find him and Ray sitting there in the living room, watching Mythbusters. Ray's drinking wine, and dickhead that he is, knowing I'm on the wagon, starts blowing wine fumes in my face. Pete finally goes up for his shower, and we head to Ryndon to pick up the old lady.

She's there, all dolled up, and eats. We drive back to Irwin's--he had to feed Rockstar--and see the Broncotron is down at Bill's. We pull in and they're in there, pleased as punch, Bill drinking his Canadian Mist and showing off the new camper rig he bought on his computer (they were to drive to Reno today to pick it up). It's nice, and we finally excuse ourselves, and Bill asks who the DD is. I say me, and he seems surprised. Then, knowing my sordid past, we bet that I won't have a single drink all night, despite New Year's, on penalty of getting punched in the face. (Aside: Bill, despite being 62, is the strongest guy any of us knows; I feared getting walloped by a fist the size of a ham, and Irwin counsels never to show him your weight bench, lest he lie down, lift every plate you have, and call you a pussy.)

Lesson well understood, and we drove down to Elko. Took a bit of searching to find everyone--Goldie's, Tiki, Silver Dollar, Stockmen's, then the Stray Dog--but we found the group. Something like Pete and Andrea, Cormac and Andrea, Cathy, Little Richard, Matt and Nichole, and Ray. Back to the Tiki Hut, where we're walking through and I overhear a bit of conversation between Irwin and J. Random Bigminerdude:

JRB: "Hey, I'm bigger'n you!"
I: "Yeah."
JRB: "This dick's bigger, too!"
I: "Spit it out, dude, that ain't yours!"

Dan/BigA/Irdawg: *fleeflee* *laughlaugh*

Typical New Year's things going on. Drinking, bar to bar, myself marveling at the experience of being sober on this particular holiday. The G Spot, headed to for the lulz of seeing 'Hogg Boss' and the 'Double-0 Ryderz' perform, had a cover; Good Time Charlee's had just had a wedding a few hours before, and had renovated the bathrooms (saw in the paper that some guy had croaked in the men's shitter a few months ago, and no one noticed him until the next morning). Boring, though, and terrible karaoke. We all gagglefucked back toward Stockmen's, where at midnight they launch fireworks off the roof and everyone clogs the streets. (Particularly amusing as Stockmen's Casino has a history of burning to the ground.) Many kisses exchanged.

Went in to gamble and eat. Pete runs the craps table and doubles his money over the evening; the Sheriff's deputies raid as some drunk bashes another over the head with a bottle a few hours in; most of the girls grab a table at the restaurant and eat; Irwin mingles, keeping track of where everyone is, and soaking up all the comp drinks he can ("Dude, I tell you! Fat black chicks and cougars--they love me!"). Andrea dimes him out for wanting to hump Cathy, his own g-milf, right in front of Nichole, Cathy's daughter. Hilarity ensues.

We finally part, the gambling boys cashing out with quite a score, Pete and Andrea cabbing it home, myself taking A and Irwin. The amusement of watching stumblers get arrested as we drive down Idaho; Irwin getting incoherent calls from Cormac demanding he come to the Horseshoe; and then home, safe and sound. Well done.