Speaking of Peter Provost and the MVP Summit, it looks like I missed out on what must have been one hell of a killer nerd party.

Peter wrote about getting to hang out in the penthouse suite of the Westin at about 3:00 AM.

Argh.

At 3:00 AM, I was watching "Return of the King" on PayPerView with a friend who drove up from Portland.

Earlier, around about the time people must have been getting invited to the party, my friend and I went out and got intoxicated before asking a cab driver to deposit us at the nearest and sleaziest strip club that he could possibly find. He eventually dropped us off under a rock, which was about as low as things can get.

So, while Peter was rubbing shoulders and talking popular acronyms with sophisticated swinging nerds, I was getting smoke blown in my face while trying desperately to brush the herpes away that was crawling up my legs. In some clubs, the diseases come after you like ants at a Sunday picnic. It's awful.

And the pole. Oh, dear lord, the pole. An issue of such questionable hygiene that the building should have been condemned and burned to the ground, followed by encasing the ashes in glass and burying them 200 miles below the surface of the earth. It was all I could do to stay put and not try to sanitize the thing with one of my cleany-wipes.

The things that happen in life because you're an idiot.

Peter partied. I squirmed uncomfortably in a seat that was probably dirtier than most toilets.

Let this be a lesson to all of you (but especially to me).