Tuesday, February 01, 2005


All work and no play makes for a dull and/or cranky kj.

I'd been pounding out my script all weekend, and I had to work on Sunday. After work going home and pounding out more words just didn't seem like all that much fun, and I decided I was in desperate need of some fun.

I called up the brother, to see if he could sneak out of the house without his wife and/or kids. I only had to work 8 hours, and seeing how my brother does most of his work at night, I knew he'd be up.

As it was, a prison break was in the cards for him. Speaking of cards, we decided to go gambling...

So I hit the crap table like always and just killed them. With a nice supply of their money in my pocket, I went out looking for some more fun options. My bro was playing blackjack, which I suck at, so I scoped out these new Multi-Strike Poker machines.

You get 4 hands of poker. If you win the first you go to the second. If you win the second, you go to the third. And so on, and so on. If you lose, you're done.

I sit down, put in some money, and begin to play. It was quite fun actually, and I was betting rather riskily since it was their money after all. My money and a good chunk of their money was safely put away in my purse, not to be touched.

Then it happens. This Neanderthal guy sits down next to me. He's watching my machine more then his own. Or watching something that is. Ok, the jerk was staring at my breasts.

I didn't want to move, as my little machine was paying rather well. I got a hand with 2 4's, a king, a queen, and a 9.

So the 4's stayed and the rest were given away to the reshuffle Gods.

"Whoah there sweetheart, you don't want to do that!" he tells me, smirking.

I just gave him my patented Stare of Death© and kept playing.

First of all, I hate when people I don't know call me sweetheart. If someone I know calls me sweetheart or sweetie or honey or cutie, I think it's rather sweet. When someone calls me that and I don't know and/or like them, it just feels so damn patronizing. Especially in that tone. You know what I'm talking about ladies... Bastard.

Secondly, how does he know I don't know what I'm doing? Fucker.

"You see, if you get Jacks or Better you will win and go to the next level," he tells me.

"I'm well aware of that," I say as I roll my eyes. Some people just don't get the hint, ya know? I could have told him how much I was up, and how I had a little room to take a little bit more of a risk. That would require talking to him, and I had already said 5 words too many to the bastard.

"Here, watch what I am doing," he tells me. What the FUCK?? Dude. Get a clue? I ignore him and continue to play, wondering if this machine is really worth it.

So I keep playing and acting like the jerk is invisible as he does little snorts when I lose. I really, really want to backhand him by now.

Then it happened. I got to the 4th level, and I had an Ace, a 3, a 4, and two 5's showing. I touched the two 5's to hold them, and just as I was about to hit the deal button, he reached over and touched the Ace.

"Don't throw that away!!" he exclaimed. I calmly unclicked the Ace, looked right at him and said, "If you touch my machine again I'll break your fingers." in my most threatening voice, which isn't real threatening at all. I was hoping the fire in my eyes was more then enough for this idiot to know I meant business.

I hit the deal button, and low and behold, two more 5's came up. So that was 4 of a kind, on the 4th line, which is 8 times the payout. It was like $1200.00.

So I pushed the cash out button and waited for my ticket to print.

As I grabbed my ticket and my card, I did something really immature and out of character for myself. I waved the $1200.00 ticket at him and said, "Fucker!" Then I walked away.

Now I know I curse like a drunken sailor on this blog, but I rarely do in real life. Perhaps this blog is having a bit of an affect on me, eh?

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