Even in Vegas, Drew Carey doesn't stray from his favorite fashion statement.
Under the effects of three nights in Vegas, I totally forgot about this story until today, and now it’s more or less old and depressing news, since it has to do with that one sports team, which did that one thing, which resulted in a whole lot of people throwing Miller Lites through their flat-screens.
But I’ll tell the story anyway, because the world needs more stories about Cleveland celebrities showing unfettered, unprecedented, even unwarranted faith in their city’s sports teams.
Why can't LeBron be more like Drew?
So it’s last Friday night, midnight or so, and I’m sitting in the Viva Las Vegas Lounge at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, also known as the City That Never Stops Feeling Around in Your Pockets and Saying, Is That a Quarter? I Think That's A Quarter! The bar is pretty crowded, I guess because it’s eight-dollar beer night. I’m fairly drunk, and fairly depressed, because a blackjack dealer named Jimmy just pulled 85 consecutive twenty-ones, causing me to lose my bankroll before my first free Corona.
Nothing can lift my spirits now, I’m thinking. Nothing. But then I see something across the way, something improbable and beautiful, like a desert mirage or an OC
rerun on the Soap Network: It’s Drew Carey, and he's playing blackjack in the high-limit room. By himself. ...