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Although there aren’t many bets in Vegas that are +EV, 1 I’ll attempt to use sabermetrics and good timing to try to find some. As bankroll, I brought a few thousand dollars that should have been put towards my college loans. I will be writing about sports, gambling, football, and whatever else happens here in Vegas. I insisted on holding on to my Massachusetts driver’s license, like it was some sort of proof that I didn’t truly live in a place where you can - and probably should - get drunk walking down the street in broad daylight. My washing machine has been converted into a hamper.

#Wasteland 3 bill how to

I’ve been sitting on that because I can’t figure out how to use an Allen wrench. I don’t have a chair in my apartment, but I do have an IKEA box that houses an unassembled chair. The decision was easy, but the actual act of settling in and self-identifying as someone who actually lives in Las Vegas? That’s been terrifying. I recognize it’s immature to think about things that way, but I can’t pretend that there also wasn’t a very loud voice in my head in March saying, “You’re going to regret not doing this when you’re 50.” Moving to Vegas is a get-out-of-adulthood-free card. My friends from college are getting married and having kids. For the next year - bank account willing - I will be reporting back to you, the Grantland reader, about what it’s like to live and flourish (gulp.) in America’s haven for making mistakes. So, at the beginning of August, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment on the Las Vegas strip. Back in March, Bill Simmons asked me, “In your dream scenario, what would you write about?” There was really only one answer: “I would move to Vegas and write about my life there.” To the horror of every civilized aspect of my life, he green-lit the idea.