Useless Thread MMI: Millerade Appreciation Thread

[Mrfenn92]

So who does everyone have today?

 

[John Price]

God's Country

So who does everyone have today?

refs won't let KC lose

 

[PanthersPens62]

Dog of the Day:

So who does everyone have today?

Chiiiiieeeeeeffffs

 

[GIADF]

Enough with the chatgpt bs

 

[John Price]

**Chapter 38: The Future Begins**

As the **Forrester Creations** party wound down, guests **milled about in the lobby**, exchanging last words, exchanging business cards, and exchanging silent judgments. The night had been filled with glamour, drama, and opportunity—but now, as people stepped into waiting luxury cars or disappeared into the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas, the event was **officially over.**

Tom Sandoval, however, wasn’t quite ready to call it a night.

With his blazer slung over his shoulder and his second glass of **Pinot Grigio** long since emptied, he took his time weaving through the **casino floor** of The Flamingo. The party had been a lot—**big names, big egos, big deals.** He needed to breathe.

As he walked, he took in the sounds that had become **so familiar to him** over the years.

The rhythmic **ding-ding-ding** of slot machines filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whoosh of a payout. A woman at a **Wheel of Fortune** slot cheered as the machine lit up, while an older man at a **video poker terminal** sighed and reached for his wallet. The scent of **stale cigarette smoke and spilled cocktails** mixed with the artificial freshness of the casino’s air system.

It was **chaotic and alive**, a symphony of **Vegas excess.**

Tom drifted from **The Flamingo to The LINQ, then past Caesars Palace**, taking in the scene as he let his thoughts **marinate.** Every now and then, a passerby would recognize him, but tonight, the usual fanfare was subdued. He was **a man with a vision**, and tonight, he had **one destination in mind.**

After **twenty minutes of aimless meandering**, he arrived at **Harrah’s.**

But not for gambling. Not for drinks. Not even for the nostalgia of a past Vegas adventure.

He was here for **Sando.**

Or rather—the **empty shell** of what would *become* Sando.

Slipping through a side entrance, he found himself **inside the construction site**. The place was still nothing more than **a barren lot**, walls half-painted, floors unfinished, lighting fixtures still in boxes. The faint scent of **drywall dust** lingered in the air. Exposed beams and taped-off sections marked where the bar, seating areas, and VIP lounges would be.

Tom **stepped into the center of it all**, staring out at the space with a quiet reverence.

Right now, it was nothing.

But soon—it would be **his.**

A bar built from his **own vision**, with **no partnerships holding him back,** no distractions, no compromises.

For the first time in a long time, he felt **hopeful.**

He lowered himself onto an overturned **crate**, the only makeshift seat in the entire space. Elbows on his knees, he gazed out at the emptiness in front of him and let a slow, satisfied **smile** spread across his face.

This was **only the beginning.**

And for the first time in a long time, Tom Sandoval was in control of his **own story.**

END BOOK 1

 

[End of Line]

Blue moon and Gatorade? Mixed together?

 

[Mrfenn92]

God's Country

View attachment 975260

Go to a bar bro
Be with actual humans

 

[End of Line]

Go to a bar bro
Be with actual humans

Other humans don’t want to be around him

 

[Mrfenn92]

Other humans don’t want to be around him

There has to be small contingent of lost sad souls like him he can pal around with

 

[KingsHockey24]

Let's just all have a hot tub party and eat hot wings while we watch the Kansas City win.

 

[GIADF]

**Chapter 38: The Future Begins**

As the **Forrester Creations** party wound down, guests **milled about in the lobby**, exchanging last words, exchanging business cards, and exchanging silent judgments. The night had been filled with glamour, drama, and opportunity—but now, as people stepped into waiting luxury cars or disappeared into the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas, the event was **officially over.**

Tom Sandoval, however, wasn’t quite ready to call it a night.

With his blazer slung over his shoulder and his second glass of **Pinot Grigio** long since emptied, he took his time weaving through the **casino floor** of The Flamingo. The party had been a lot—**big names, big egos, big deals.** He needed to breathe.

As he walked, he took in the sounds that had become **so familiar to him** over the years.

The rhythmic **ding-ding-ding** of slot machines filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whoosh of a payout. A woman at a **Wheel of Fortune** slot cheered as the machine lit up, while an older man at a **video poker terminal** sighed and reached for his wallet. The scent of **stale cigarette smoke and spilled cocktails** mixed with the artificial freshness of the casino’s air system.

It was **chaotic and alive**, a symphony of **Vegas excess.**

Tom drifted from **The Flamingo to The LINQ, then past Caesars Palace**, taking in the scene as he let his thoughts **marinate.** Every now and then, a passerby would recognize him, but tonight, the usual fanfare was subdued. He was **a man with a vision**, and tonight, he had **one destination in mind.**

After **twenty minutes of aimless meandering**, he arrived at **Harrah’s.**

But not for gambling. Not for drinks. Not even for the nostalgia of a past Vegas adventure.

He was here for **Sando.**

Or rather—the **empty shell** of what would *become* Sando.

Slipping through a side entrance, he found himself **inside the construction site**. The place was still nothing more than **a barren lot**, walls half-painted, floors unfinished, lighting fixtures still in boxes. The faint scent of **drywall dust** lingered in the air. Exposed beams and taped-off sections marked where the bar, seating areas, and VIP lounges would be.

Tom **stepped into the center of it all**, staring out at the space with a quiet reverence.

Right now, it was nothing.

But soon—it would be **his.**

A bar built from his **own vision**, with **no partnerships holding him back,** no distractions, no compromises.

For the first time in a long time, he felt **hopeful.**

He lowered himself onto an overturned **crate**, the only makeshift seat in the entire space. Elbows on his knees, he gazed out at the emptiness in front of him and let a slow, satisfied **smile** spread across his face.

This was **only the beginning.**

And for the first time in a long time, Tom Sandoval was in control of his **own story.**

END BOOK 1

You are f***in awful

 

[John Price]

Blue moon and Gatorade? Mixed together?

Did you also get Sheetz today for the big game

 

[End of Line]

Did you also get Sheetz today for the big game

No I went to Kroger like a normal person

 

[John Price]

Go to a bar bro
Be with actual humans

No I need to do commentary in the GDT

 

[End of Line]

There has to be small contingent of lost sad souls like him he can pal around with

View attachment 975279

The island of misfit plushies is where

 

[John Price]

No I went to Kroger like a normal person

But Sheetz is a northeast staple

good stuff

 

[End of Line]

But Sheetz is a northeast staple

good stuff

I’m not from the northeast

 

[Mrfenn92]

Lady Gaga looked like the albino twins from the matrix

But Sheetz is a northeast staple

good stuff

Midwest bro
Is the best

 

[John Price]

Lady Gaga looked like the albino twins from the matrix


Midwest bro
Is the best

Culver's

 

[Mrfenn92]

 

[KingsHockey24]

Okay.

 

[John Price]

get these teams out the tunnel already f***

 

[GIADF]

Man I love New Orleans, been too long since I’ve been. So much good food.

 

[Mrfenn92]

Wings, cheese and crackers, ribs, beer and wine. Let’s go.

 

[KingsHockey24]

Wings, cheese and crackers, ribs, beer and wine. Let’s go.

What type of sauce do you have on those wings boyo'