I don't know why, but I just couldn't get to sleep on Sunday. I stayed up all night on Saturday, watched a bit of TV, made yesterday's post, talked on the phone to both Amy and Mamasan, but after that, I went to bed and tried to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. I finally caught a bit of a catnap, but woke up at 2:00 pm or so, watched a little bit of the race, but was dozing in the chair, so I went back to bed. As soon as I fell asleep again, Rob called, asking if I might be of service, using my truck to help move a coffee table for his new main squeeze. I said sure, just let me know when, and he said he'd call me back. I fell asleep until 5:45, when my alarm went off, and he never called back.
I was looking forward to work last night--I was finally able to deal my favorite string of tables, and I figured it'd be busy as hell--it was still Nascar weekend. But, my anticipation was for naught, as I got to the casino and it was just dead. The circus had clearly left town, except for a few die-hards. Oh, and I don't care if you are a die-hard Nascar fan, but if you and your three buddies all have matching leather Amp Energy/Dale Jr. jackets, and all four of you wear them at the same time, then you'll end up looking like the gayest biker gang ever as you sashay around the casino. Seriously, it's not a good look. Ask any chick, they'll tell you.
I too am a Nascar fan, and make a point to watch all of the races and keep informed as to what's going on and such, but I draw the line at wearing a bunch of moronic-looking advertisements like my favorite driver does. He's getting paid to wear that ridiculous outfit. The rest of you sheep--you're just of goofy-looking free advertising. Besides, I don't have one favorite driver or team. I like a bunch of them--I'm not partial to any one guy. I like Dale Jr, Jimmy Johnson, Kurt Busch, and Clint Bowyer. Hell, I've even been known to root for Jeff Gordon on occasion. So wearing any one driver's gear wouldn't really be my thing, anyways. (I do, however, like to root against some of the asshats on the circuit--Tony Stewart and Robbie Gordon, for instance, but otherwise, I just like to watch the races). Until Amp Energy, Lowes, Miller Lite, Jack Daniels, or DuPont Automotive Finishes actually mails me a check, I'll be damned if you'll catch me wearing any of their gear in public. As of right now, the only free advertising you'll find in my wardrobe is for Captain Morgan and Corona. But I'm not exactly the ideal spokesmodel type anyways, so I don't think I'm impacting their bottom line. Nobody is drinking Duff's because Barney is wearing their shirt...
Anyhow, I don't know how I got off an that tangent, but the casino was pretty quiet last night. In fact, from 9:40 until 10:20, I didn't deal a single hand at my Pai Gow table. I just sat there watching SportsCenter on the bar TVs and flirting with the cocktail waitress every few minutes whenever she'd pass by. And I was dozing, due to lack of sleep, and caught myself doing the head-bob a time or two. It was awful. Luckily I was way out at the end of Chinatown where the bosses rarely venture. And it was so slow that my Deuces Wild table got shut down before midnight, too. Before I knew it, we were back to doing twenty on/twenty off--too many dealers, not enough players.
I knew the end was near when I got sent to Let It Ride at 1:00 am. When the boss came around at 1:15 and asked if I wanted an hour and a half EO, I jumped at the chance, as did about 15 of my co-workers. I believe I walked over to the podium to sign out and my first words were I've had all I can stands and I can't stands no more!
I hit the door before they could change their mind, and I was home, in bed, asleep, by 2:00 am.
But the night wasn't a total loss. On one of my early breaks, I ditched the 'dealers table' in the dining room and went to sit with one of the cocktail waitresses. A few weeks back, she told me about her part-time gig bartending at another place, and I've gone over to see her a couple times after work. So I went over to chat with her. I told her that I almost came to see her the night before, but I was just too tired. We caught up for a few minutes, and then out of the clear blue, she suggested that I take her number and give her a call next weekend so we can hang out after work...
Bow chicka bow bow!
Alrighty then! So I was quite obvious in making a show of entering her phone number into the address book on my cellphone, and of course as I was walking back to my table at the end of my break down that long beige mile of hallways in the back of the house, I enjoyed the ego trip of having a couple of my buddies question me about what they just saw.
Dude, did you just get that chick's number? What's up with that? How'd you manage that??? etc, etc, etc.
I just smiled, laughed it off, and told them that it was the culmination of months and months of hard work. Hell, I think the first time she ever used my name was just three weeks ago, and I'd been shamelessly hitting on her for going on three years now. Besides, I figure the most I'm gonna get out of it is a bar tab and a few good stories, anyways.
But it was the highlight of an otherwise dull and uneventful evening in the casino.
And I don't care how slow or dull it is tonight, either. It's my Friday night, and if I can endure another eight hours behind the green felt, I'll be free for another two days. Just don't put me back on that damn Let It Ride table, or else I'm likely to kick off my weekend a bit earlier than expected.
Mikey
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