I'll fix yer wagon...
See, there I was, in a foul mood on Friday, bitching about work. And here it is Sunday evening and it's all better now.
I was snoozin' in late today--I was up late looking at house plans again--and around 9:45 am my phone was ringing. And it was that familiar ring that means I'm either picking up a shift or getting fired. It's been pretty slow lately, but Sundays are generally busier than most other days, so my money was on picking up a shift.
And I was right--they were calling me in, asking if I could work at eleven. Oh hell yeah I could! The eleven am shift is about the best one available if you ask me. The daily tournament usually starts then, and that's a couple of downs worth of easy money, and sometime around 1pm or so, they'll usually have enough people on hand to start a no-limit game. Me and the other three dealers drew cards for our spots in the new rotation when we clocked in, and I got lucky and got the top of the push, meaning that I got the most tables before getting a break. That was just fine with me.
Once I finally got a break, a couple of hours later, I was starving. I went over to the pizza joint on property and got a couple of slices of crappy pizza and a drink for over ten bucks. I mean, I was shocked when they told me the total. A little bit proud of your prices, don't ya think? I said, as I handed over my eleven bucks. I mean, come on--greasy fake cheese and pepperoni sliced so thin you can see through it? I won't be going back.
But then I wandered over to the sports book, and took my usual spot in the back of the book by the service well, because one of my favorite gals spends her Sundays working in the book. Had I been smart about it, I could've saved almost three bucks by skipping the fountain drink from the pizza place and had the cocktail waitress bring me a drink for free. Well, I would've tossed her a buck, obviously, but I still would've gotten off cheaper.
Of course, while sitting there, I saw that my NFL picks were already in the dumper because of Miami and New Orleans, so there were no tickets to be cashed today. On the other hand, I offer this, an open letter to the 'twelf men' of Seattle:
Dear Seahawk fans:
I'm truly sorry for your recent misfortunes, but somebody has to wear the collar in the NFC West. It might as well be you clowns. Just do us Rams fans a favor--try not to mess up the basement too badly. We lived there for quite some time and found it rather comfortable, but we've since improved our lot in life. It looks like you guys will be probably there for some time, so just remember to pick up after yourselves. And try not to stain the furniture.
Thank you,
St. Louis Rams fans
Whew! That felt pretty good. And I gotta love my team beating up on the Cowboys like they did today. It just warms my heart.
Anyhow. Work pretty much flew by today--I was busy all day, and only had one bad table--four or five of our biggest stiffs and whiners were all concentrated on one table, so it was a cast-iron bitch of a half hour to sit there and grind it out and get stiffed every other hand. Ugh. But the other games more than made up for it and I had a fairly lucrative day. So I feel a whole lot better today than I did on Friday.
I'm on call for both Monday and Tuesday, but I'm hoping to avoid going in on Tuesday. It seems that I'm such a big wheel in Nevada politics that I got a 'VIP' invite to the Sarah Palin rally here in Henderson on Tuesday. I'd rather do that, obviously, but if work calls, I've gotta go answer to The Man.
Ooh, and I almost forgot. Somehow, somebody out there considers me a member of the Las Vegas press corps, and I got an invitation to Press Night at the new Ricks Cabaret Gentleman's Club (which, if I'm not mistaken, now occupies the space formerly held by Scores). Anyhow, all I needed to do was send them my RSVP and my affiliation, and a night of free cocktails and VIP service was mine for the taking. Of course, all of the lovely ladies of Rick's would be made available for pictures and interviews, also.
Can you imagine me sitting there trying to carry on an interview with a stripper? Sure beats Anne Rice's gig, I'm guessing, but it'd probably be tough to keep a straight face.
As much fun as it would be, I took a pass on that one. I know--I'm lettin' you guys down, but I've got enough problems with cocktail waitresses. I don't need to be getting friendly with any strippers. They're much further up the crazy scale, and I certainly don't need any of that right now. It's like Jay-Z said--I got 99 problems and a biatch ain't one of 'em!
I'd kinda like to keep it that way for awhile.
Mikey
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