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JIM TRESSEL'S VACATION, PART ONE.

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Jim Tressel is not on vacation yet, but this is pretty much what it will look like.

Las Vegas. 10:17 a.m., yesterday.

Cooler: You, uh...need me to go over there, boss?

Pitboss: I dunno. I kind of want to see if he can keep going at this pace. I've never seen anything like it.

Cooler: He's a machine. Barkley passed out an hour ago.

Pitboss: Yeah. We woke him up with a cognac enema. That always perks him up.

Cooler: I'll head over there if you want--

Pitboss: Nah. You don't stand in the way of a storm like this.

recklesstressel

Stunning Floozy 1: Daddy, you want me to blow on the dice?

Tressel: Oh, yeah baby. Whore germs got me this pile of chips, and they'll make it bigger.

Stunning Floozy 1: You're mean!

Tressel: Roll them bones, baby, and we'll see what else gets bigger.

She rolls the dice.

Dealer: Another seven! I've never seen anything like this!

Waitress: Need something from the bar, sir?

Tressel: Another Panty-dropper, please.

Waitress; But that's your 38th, sir.

Tressel: Do you see my panties on the floor?

Waitress: No.

Tressel: Then keep bringing 'em. Then we'll see what we can do about yours.

To be continued.