It’s me. The end.

Brad and I have had a couple of good streaks at the casinos lately.  So either Taurus is in the rising house of Mercury in the 8th sector of the moon.  Or low cut shirts really do work.

(If it’s the second, I’m going to have to take momma out with me more often.  Fake boobies rule.  And men are just pathetic little putty wads in the hand … )

Which brings me to a point.  Women certainly don’t lose all functionality, rationality or sensibility when a dude in a nice pair of pants walks by.  But if it’s a woman in a V-neck shirt, men become blathering idiots, complete with drool and zombie eyes.  It’s really quite funny.  And handy.  Hence the casino success story.

That follows.

Hell, what did I just go on about?  I’ve completely lost my train of thought.  Shut up, Brain.

Anyhoo.  Back on track.

I mentioned last post how Brad and I won $400 at the Three Card Poker table.  It was at the grand opening of a new resort, and aside from standing up at the table in the food court (because of no chairs, not because we wanted to cuz that = exercise), it worked out to be a rather profitable and successful evening.  I mean, I’d stand up and eat some onion rings if it guaranteed a table win.

So we started with some Blackjack.  Unfortunately, the table minimum was $10, and all I had was a 20.  But I did it anyway, slid my two sad little red chips into the betting circle, right next to the guy with an Eiffel Tower of chips.  I’m sure he was thinking I was about to throw the synergy of the table with my pathetic minimum bet, but surprisingly, I won, he won, and his little Asian friend popped up out of nowhere with a rousing“Table win!” gesture.  Which then had me thinking, All right, Alkie.  Simmer down.

Anyway, ya’ll know how the night ended … with $200 a piece in our pockets.  Figured luck was on our side, so we tried our Blackjack/Three Card strategy once again on Saturday night.

Lemme just say this … Super Fun 21 is NOT super fun.  We lost $40 in five minutes.  What the sam hell?  So we go to 6 Deck BlackJack.  Did better, but not the best.  But we had enough money built up to feel comfortable shelling out the big bucks on the Three Card.

And quickly, just like that, Brad and I became celebrities.  The pit boss practically fell over himself trying to sign us up for the Player’s Club.  It was hilarious.  I was like, where’s my comp suite and cocktails?  Dammit!  Lobster dinner, pronto!

We ended up with 9 little black chips.  It was the best night of our lives.  We walked away happily and responsibly.  Then the douche bag from our table walked past us about 10 minutes later and said if we had played one more hand, we would have gotten Triple Aces.

Erlack!

Why did he have to tell us that?  I hate that guy.  I want him thrown out.  Cuz we are members of the Player’s Club and that apparently = everything.

However, the good news is that we leave the casino with all our winnings intact.  Split evenly and pocketed safely.  Even better news … getting to spend my winnings on something better than car insurance.  Weeeee!  And although there was no lobster dinner involved, being Player’s Club members does have other benefits.  Cuz after 2 hours of playing cards, Brad and I racked up one dollar each to spend on whatever we effing liked. 

Ha.  Told you we were celebrities.