Wait--it's only Thursday? My work week, such as it is, is over. So I only have one word for you working stiffs out there:
Heh. Actually, at this moment, I'd be totally cool with being a working stiff again. I only say that because the pendulum has swung back the 'famine' side of the matrix, and 'feast' is a distant memory. Lucky for me I got all the obligations already taken care of, otherwise I'd be really pissed about my eight-hour 'week'.
Yup. Eight hours.
Now, before y'all get too upset and start feeling sorry for me, it was still a pretty good eight hours. I'm not gonna go hungry or homeless. But it just illustrates, to me, how I'd feel like I were filthy stankin' rich if I were to ever somehow work a forty-hour week. On the other hand, since things are slow in the casino biz right now, I can't really go out and spend money and have a good time like I'd prefer to do. This weekend is going to be very low-key and mellow. I won't be playing poker, I won't be hanging out with any of my gals, and I won't be trying any new restaurants, that's for sure.
Tonight, I'm gonna head over to AC's house and help him with one of his projects, and we're gonna probably drink a few beers, order some pizza, and watch the Civil War game from Oregon. (And yes, I will be packing a band-aid with me). I may also scrape together a few bucks and lay a bet down on the Tide this weekend. I was thinking of betting the money line, but unless somebody from the Tuscaloosa mafia goes all Nancy Kerrigan on Tim Tebow in the next 48 hours, it's probably wiser to just take the points instead.
Otherwise, I have no plans except for the regular rotation of football, reading and the usual household chores. I've got my fingers crossed that maybe I can pick up another shift this weekend, but unless somebody calls out sick, I doubt that's gonna happen. Maybe I'll feel inspired and write about a road trip I took 19 years ago...