Malibu & Coke

Yep, sadly, I'm out of The Captain, so Malibu will have to do this morning. And all that booze on the shelf ain't gonna drink itself. I just got off from a fairly easy night at work, although I spent three hours in hell for my earlier comments about Let It Ride and the mental deficiencies of it's players. Yes, as soon as I showed up, I saw the roadmap showing me doing my first hour on that god-forsaken table of gambling moronitude.

Clearly the boss has been reading my website, and decided to take me down a peg or two.

And of course, all of our best players were out in force tonight. Luckily I busted everyone around 1:30 and the suits just said The hell with it and closed the table for the night, giving me the green-felt equivalent of a Get Out of Jail Free card.

And speaking of the boss reading my website, there's a delicate issue I need to address. Since I started my first website back in mid-1992, I've created quite a collection of regular readers. This particular blog has had almost a quarter of a million visits since I started it, and I average about 400 readers a day. Not too shabby if you ask me. Not only that, but because of it I've met some wonderful friends and had some great experiences here in Vegas.

But with the good comes the bad. Not all 400 people that read this site are fans of my writing, or are they what I would consider friends. I get some real dirtbags that send me emails and try to post crap in my comments section. Hey, I know I'm an opinionated guy, and while I try to not be overtly political, like so many websites out there, I can't deny who I am or what I believe in. And I've never been one to keep my damn mouth shut. So there's the background.

In the meantime, some of these lurkers are just plain assholes with nothing better to do with their time than to try and stir up trouble. Anyhow, back in the day I didn't keep any secrets at all about many of the details about life in Vegas. I must've been a bit naive to think that everyone is friendly and only has good intentions.

But I was wrong.

Early on, I let people know where I was working, and what my shift was and what my days off are. Hell, I even posted pictures of what my automobile looks like. Well, I have since learned that I would rather people didn't know where I was working, and didn't come to visit me at work and play at my table.

First of all, I'm really not supposed to deal to close friends or whatnot. And trying to explain the relationship I have with people at my table to any bosses that might overhear a conversation is not something I enjoy. Second of all, I know it's completely harmless from their perspective, but on several occasions people has showed up at my casino looking for me, and just told anyone who would listen all about me and this website, which opens another can of worms. I try to keep this website separate from work, and only my closest friend know about it. It's a place for me to vent, and if too many of the folks I work with start reading it, I'll have to self-censor. And I'm no good at that. Seriously, there are a couple of people I work with who are total asshats who run to the HR department or to the shift bosses for *everything*. I don't need them telling my boss about any of my rants. Hell, I even had some people who thought they were helping me out by telling a shift boss at another property all about this blog and how he should hire me because I'm such a well-spoken dealer.

Uh, no, that's not how I want to make my first impression.

People with good intentions aside, there are some people out there who just want to stir up trouble. And there are weirdos and stalkers too. I've had several people who I've never met, talked to, corresponded with, or read comments from who just randomly show up at my table and start talking 'shorthand' to me. At first, it was flattering, but some people just don't have the social skills to pull it off and they just come off as creepy.

They don't introduce themselves or say "Hey, are you Hurricane Mikey?" or anything like that. They'll start by saying something weird like "So, I guess your new place is better than the stripper house, huh?" or something oddball like "Your taste in music sucks!" which is always a good way to kick off a conversation, don't you think? Hell, I've even had somebody show up, tell me they were a lurker, act like they're my best friend, and then ask me for a ride back to their hotel once my shift ends.

Seriously, WTF?

And I've had a couple of people show up with an axe to grind and decide to take time out of their Vegas vacation to come down and tell me how much they dislike me. That's always pleasant too, but a chickenshit way to engage me, knowing that I can't say anything but 'Have a nice day, thanks for stopping by' while I'm behind the table. Those people need to die slowly of a painful genital rash...

Anyhow--what's the point of all this? The point is, several times a month, I get emails from people who wish to know where I'm working and would like to come by and say hello and maybe play at my table. That's very nice, and I truly am flattered. But because of a few bad apples, I've decided to be more private and haven't been responding to those requests.

I don't want anyone else to know where I currently work, who doesn't know already. I also no longer talk about auditions or other jobs I'm interested in applying for or transferring to. I just don't want anyone to know. It's nothing personal, I'm not trying to be an ass, I just don't want people who know more about me than I know about them showing up at my place of employment, no matter how good their intentions.

I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be. Please consider this from my perspective, that's all I ask. I've talked to Sonya and Scott over at T2V about it, and they've agreed to delete any posts on that site where people talk about where I work. It's just not worth the hassle.

It's either that, or I just have to go plain vanilla if I write at all, and I can't see that happening.

So please--Don't ask me where I work. Some details of my life need to remain private.

Thanks,

Mikey