The V Plan

Vegas is so close I can almost taste it. The taste is somewhat muted mind you, because I have a cold. Colds suck. Vegas on the other hand rocks. Vegas trumps everything, even a cold. Tomorrow at work I'll be miserable. Saturday morning, flying to Vegas, I will suffer the torment of an annoying cold while believing that at any moment I will die. When the plane finally lands (assuming it lands), the cold will have no power over me. I will be in Vegas.

Vegas cures all.

I think I have things figured out. I've crunched the numbers. I've dissected every plausible outcome, every possible reality. I've closed my eyes and thrown the darts. Most importantly, I've consulted my gut. And my gut says drink. Drink a lot. Then I won't care whether to donks win or not. I won't care if my bets win. Inebriation is the key to my happiness. Drink and all will be well.

So that's the plan. I'll drink and then I'll bet. Here's what I'm thinking-

Actually, I'll hold off a moment on that. First, let's do Ed's picks. Ed is an officer at my bank who loves football and loves betting. He's me, but with a real job. When he heard that I was going to Vegas this weekend, he dropped a bundle of cash in my hands and said, "here's what I want you to bet. I want Den, Buf, Min, Sf, Mia, Jac, Car, and NyG. Take the points on all of them. Put $20 on each." Now, most people would cringe at having to place bets for someone else while chillin in Vegas. They would think it was a chore. Not me. I love it. I'm totally down. As soon as he asked me if I'd bet for him, I realized something about myself that I knew under the surface for quite some time. I was born to be a bookie. It's my dream job. Too bad it's illegal.

I wish Ed the best, but here's how I see it.

Clv is going to shock the world, and I'm going to bank on it. The line is currently Chicago by 13. I'll money line that and make a killing.

Ok, that's not going to happen. I mean, I'll bet it like I said, but there's no way it fucking wins. It's a sucker bet. I know it. But I'll be having a blast for the first five minutes of the game hoping for the impossible. Then the Bears will score 17 in the first quarter and I'll be the tool who moneylined the inept Browns. It would be like moneylining that the Dagger of Lokin would get published. Just stupid.

Speaking of stupid... I've got two parlay bets I want to drop. First I'll go Ind -12 (over Sf), Sea +10 (at Dal). Then I'll get really crazy and throw down Mia +3.5 (at NyJ), Vikes +3 (at Gb), and Jac +3 (at Ten) (assuming the line doesn't disappear now that Young is the starter).

Next come the straight up moneylines.

Mia to win. Jac to win. Buf to win. Vikes to win.

That's it. That's all I got. Oh, there will be plenty more bets than that, but I'll figure the rest out when I get to Sin City. Whether I bet on the Broncos/Ravens game, or how I'll bet on it, I'm just not sure. I probably won't decide on that until right before the game. Whatever I decide, just know, I'm going to be wrong. But I'll also be drunk, so I won't give a fuck.