SIGNING DAY PART FOUR: WANNA PARTY WITH BRET BIELEMA IN VEGAS, KID?

Hey kid.

Yeah you, hot wheels.

Bret Bielema. Pleased to change your life. Forever.

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You know everyday's a great day to be a Badger fella, but I'm not trying to badger ya! Ha ha! I kill me. But it wouldn't kill those fine wicked honeys in the sequins to put out the flames in my throat. It's like the Sahara in there; get Daddy a drink. And get his new best friend one too. How old are you? Eighteen? That's the legal drinking age here; greatest city in the world.

So let's make things interesting. Let's let chance settle things. If this roulette wheel lands on a Wisconsin color, you sign with us.

*Spins the roulette wheel*

*Zero comes up six times in a row*

You know where your best odds are in this place, kid? The staff locker room when Brenda goes on break. They've got free drinks here. You know what we have in Wisconsin? Free ice. These drinks aren't going to chill themselves, brother.

Craps? Why that's a fool's game, my man. You need to come play Star Wars slots with me. I've never won, but man, those Ewoks are weird looking! My favorite is the pumpernickel one.

Look, I'm just gonna go ahead and leave this ACT score on the bar. If it's not here when I come back, hey, what do I know about it? A guy like me? Do I look like *I* have to resort to cheap tricks like that? I think not. You better Biel-ieve it. Aw man, don't get all nervous and weird. Just take the chips. They're not real money!

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Now see here... Rose Bowl? Bowl of crap, if you ask me. Big Ten Championship. Winning the first ever championship game is like winning in dog years; you get 7 trophies. That's way more bling (that's Biel talk for jewelry; I'm down) than those clownsters at Circus Circus probably roll with. I go over there and expect to see chicks doing things no man speaks of and yet? Not a single elephant in the entire place.

Luck be a lady tonight, fella. You know why they say that? Cause QBs at Stanford wear lady clothes, that's why. ...Unless that's your thing, of course! We're super tolerant in Madison. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas"? What happens in Vegas happens in Madison… Except you're way more stoned! Want a sandwich? Go ahead, I bring them myself. Those buffet prices are a joke. Just tell security you've got diabetes and it's peanut butter smelly time! (I call it that because I use the juice from left over cans of tuna instead of jam.)

Kid, I treat quarterback playing time like a pair of kings - never split 'em. Or is it always split 'em? Shit, I better call a cab.

Wait... This is a hospital, right?

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