You know that old "work hard... play hard" bullshit that people throw around? I just spent six days in Vegas where I managed to eat very little, drink a lot... far more than enough... win 200 bucks, and still work sixteen hour days. Then I came home, missed the Indy 500, mowed the sprawling grounds at the McMahonsion, replaced the gravel in the drive and made it to several graduation parties. Sleep? Fuck it. I even made it to Mass. It's nice to sit in a pew, stinking of gin and stripper sweat, and remember how Jesus helped you pull that third seven when you were down to your last twenty bucks and you figured you'd screw the odds and hold the low pair instead of the pay card for once. Gotta love ol' Jesus.