ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (01-25-18)
I recently found myself flush with cash, which was lucky because I was looking all over the place for myself in that condition. We decided to meet up with our friends Paul and Krista to see if the local casino could help alleviate the problem. We could get some dinner, bet on the horses, have a cocktail or two and a nice night out.
I admitted to Paul that I had a gambling problem. The problem is that I don't know how to do it without losing money. So he tried to explain to me how to handicap the horses based on their previous performances. I looked around for the horse with the biggest nose, in case he had to win by one. With this brilliant strategy in mind I was already spending my winnings in my head. But let's not put the horse before the cart, a lesson you could learn the hard way. After the race it was apparent that my horse was already extremely handicapped, so I must have done an excellent job for a beginner.
I blame the guy in the cart slowing my horse down. Why is he there in the first place instead of in his own car? If I was a horse I would maintain with absolute certainly that I could run a hell of a lot faster if nobody was behind me whacking me with a whip, where I had to turn around every five seconds and yell, "HEY- CUT THE CRAP." It reminds me of those rowing competitions where they have ten beefy dudes in a canoe, and a little weenie in the back who yells, "ROW!" It should be pretty much self-explanatory, if you're sitting in a boat holding an oar. In the next race I wanted to bet a certain horse, but it was a scratch. The same thing happened three times in a row, and I figured there must be some poison ivy going around.
At the race track we were all just going around in circles, so we looked around for another way to lose money. In the casino they have a big roulette wheel, but it's on video. It seems like the world is a little less authentic than it used to be. When you go see a concert, for example, everyone is dancing around with a microphone, but no one is actually singing. One of these days I am going to replace myself with a video of me attending a concert and see how the performers like it for once. Anyway, you can spin the big video roulette wheel and the video dealer, who coincidentally is a hot babe, tells you whether you won or lost.
I was hoping for more of a James Bond moment, where I edge my way into a crowd at the roulette wheel, amid a dozen dazzling damsels, and the croupier, shuttling chips around the table with that thing that looks like a curtain rod. I make a daring bet for a lot of money and everybody looks at me, aghast at my cheeky confidence. After the spin I cooly croon, "Let it ride." But since it's me and not James Bond, the dealer whispers that I just lost and it's time to cover the bet. I ask him how much he thinks I could get for my watch, which is an Accutron, no slouch. He looks over at the pit boss, and I point up and yell, "Your curtains are about to fall down!" And run toward the slot machines.
Things didn't go much better over there, but at least the stakes were low. There were penny slots and I figured I would just feed a penny for my thoughts into the machine one at a time, and if I doubled my bet I'd have my two cents worth. Don't be fooled: just because something has only one arm doesn't make it any less able to steal your money. If this machine had NO arms, NO legs and NO head, I am fully confident that it would have emptied my wallet through its belly-button. My wife was reading the lines and taunting me with how close I came to winning. I almost won a bar three times. I'm just looking at how many credits I have left, which is something I don't get enough credit for. After pulling on the lever about three hundred times my arm finally falls off onto the floor. I realized that with only one arm, there was only one career left for me: BANDIT!
I recently found myself flush with cash, which was lucky because I was looking all over the place for myself in that condition. We decided to meet up with our friends Paul and Krista to see if the local casino could help alleviate the problem. We could get some dinner, bet on the horses, have a cocktail or two and a nice night out.
I admitted to Paul that I had a gambling problem. The problem is that I don't know how to do it without losing money. So he tried to explain to me how to handicap the horses based on their previous performances. I looked around for the horse with the biggest nose, in case he had to win by one. With this brilliant strategy in mind I was already spending my winnings in my head. But let's not put the horse before the cart, a lesson you could learn the hard way. After the race it was apparent that my horse was already extremely handicapped, so I must have done an excellent job for a beginner.
I blame the guy in the cart slowing my horse down. Why is he there in the first place instead of in his own car? If I was a horse I would maintain with absolute certainly that I could run a hell of a lot faster if nobody was behind me whacking me with a whip, where I had to turn around every five seconds and yell, "HEY- CUT THE CRAP." It reminds me of those rowing competitions where they have ten beefy dudes in a canoe, and a little weenie in the back who yells, "ROW!" It should be pretty much self-explanatory, if you're sitting in a boat holding an oar. In the next race I wanted to bet a certain horse, but it was a scratch. The same thing happened three times in a row, and I figured there must be some poison ivy going around.
At the race track we were all just going around in circles, so we looked around for another way to lose money. In the casino they have a big roulette wheel, but it's on video. It seems like the world is a little less authentic than it used to be. When you go see a concert, for example, everyone is dancing around with a microphone, but no one is actually singing. One of these days I am going to replace myself with a video of me attending a concert and see how the performers like it for once. Anyway, you can spin the big video roulette wheel and the video dealer, who coincidentally is a hot babe, tells you whether you won or lost.
I was hoping for more of a James Bond moment, where I edge my way into a crowd at the roulette wheel, amid a dozen dazzling damsels, and the croupier, shuttling chips around the table with that thing that looks like a curtain rod. I make a daring bet for a lot of money and everybody looks at me, aghast at my cheeky confidence. After the spin I cooly croon, "Let it ride." But since it's me and not James Bond, the dealer whispers that I just lost and it's time to cover the bet. I ask him how much he thinks I could get for my watch, which is an Accutron, no slouch. He looks over at the pit boss, and I point up and yell, "Your curtains are about to fall down!" And run toward the slot machines.
Things didn't go much better over there, but at least the stakes were low. There were penny slots and I figured I would just feed a penny for my thoughts into the machine one at a time, and if I doubled my bet I'd have my two cents worth. Don't be fooled: just because something has only one arm doesn't make it any less able to steal your money. If this machine had NO arms, NO legs and NO head, I am fully confident that it would have emptied my wallet through its belly-button. My wife was reading the lines and taunting me with how close I came to winning. I almost won a bar three times. I'm just looking at how many credits I have left, which is something I don't get enough credit for. After pulling on the lever about three hundred times my arm finally falls off onto the floor. I realized that with only one arm, there was only one career left for me: BANDIT!
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