It's All Relative

They may not know the definition of "rebuilding" but they can cook an awesome ribeye

Last week, I went out to dinner with this guy I met at church. We had the most amazing meal at N9ne at the Palms . It's a way fancy, uber-cool steakhouse that I have always wanted to try, but never had a good enough reason to blow that much money on dinner. This is where dating is actually beneficial and fun to do-when your date is a way nice guy who valets the car and orders the oysters and king crabs legs for an appetizer. These dates are worth going on and tend to produce less eye rolls after. Because at the end of the night, you may not like the dude, but at least you got a bomb meal out of it, right? I'm really not this shallow, I'm just saying it's nice to know that there are still guys out there who don't mind going a little classy on a date (a FIRST date nonetheless), who plan ahead and take the lead. It makes me feel optimistic. It's fun once in a while. (I still sound shallow. I promise I'm not)

The point to this rant is that while sitting there, enjoying my parmesean lampchops, in walks Gavin Maloof. I about choke on my Evian and kick my date to turn around. Without pointing (I am not one of those crazy celebrity-mogal gawkers. The trick is to play it cool).

"Look. It's Gavin Maloof."

"Who?"

"Gavin. Gavin Maloof. He owns the Kings."

"Uh..yeah. He also owns this hotel."

"Oh. Yeah."

I forgot the Maloofs owned the Palms. When I saw him I immediately had the urge to walk right over to him, poor myself a glass of wine and have him explain to me the reasoning behind our last draft picks. Then I thought, never mind. I don't need to hear it from Gavin Maloof that what the Kings really needed, above anything else, was another worthless, white 7 footer to match our existing worthless ,white 7 footer. Because let's be honest, what other reason could there be?

And today, after lunching with my friend Michelle and her sister Wendy (who were driving through town on their way up to Logan) and waiting for the valet to get my car, who do I see pull up to the front door of the Palms? Yes. My good friend Gavin. Who, let me just say, drives a very modest looking TEAL Cadillac Escalade with 22-inch black rims. Nothing says NBA Championship like teal opaque. I let him go, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he'd be walking into his office, getting on the phone with Theus tyring to figure out a way to get this guy in Sacramento.