| I could go on and on about my weekend, and at some point I might, but let's just say that gambling FUCKING RULES. Okay, so gambling, like drinking and abusing drugs, runs in my family. And for the first hour or so I thought, finally, a habit won't be passed on to me. We were sitting in the Borgata Atlantic City's new hotel, my posse trying to find a 5 dollar blackjack table, me sitting at a slot machine hoping a waitress would come by so I could reclaim the insane drunkenness that possessed only hours before. And at that 25 cent slot machine, I thought, "oh hell" and inserted a crisp twenty dollar bill. The slot machine I was at was bullshit, and I lost that twenty in about five minutes. I didn't even get a drink, and I was getting pretty disgruntled. After a short time, the Borgata was too much for us. The day after its opening it was filled with eurotrash and skanks. So, we headed across the street to the Trump Marina, otherwise known as where casinos go to die. I don't know when the Trump Marina was built, but they still have their original waitresses. Old ladies in very short sailor suits. So gross.
I sat down at another slot machine and shoved in a ten dollar bill. Gone. I moved over to a new machine and said "this is it, I think I fucking hate gambling." One more ten dollar bill, and I was off. I was down to a dollar when I hit a jackpot which brought me up to slightly more than I started with. I played it down to half of it, then hit another jackpot. And another. At the end of the night the machine gave me around 50 bucks. Anyway, gambling = good. Nosebleeds are bad. The end. |
