RHOLV

I watch two television shows religiously.  One is Real Housewives of Orange County.  The other is too embarrassing to say.  Both are on hiatus so I’ve got an extra hour and a half a week on my hands. 

What to do?

One thing I do NOT do is read my boyfriend’s blog or listen to his podcast.  Like ever.   We are polar opposites, politically, and other ways, and I can’t.  I just can't.  So I don’t.  But to show solidarity and where my devotion lies on this almost eve of the new year, I share with you, dear reader, his link. #ad

With all this free time on my hands, I've consumed a few books:

Blood Of The Patriots – really well written and highly interesting if you’re into anti-gov’t militia stories

Recovery: Freedom From Our Addictions – worthwhile read, adaptable advice

We The Animals – unique story and writing style, read it without looking at reviews 

Molly’s Game – better than the movie, well-written and full of interesting detail

The Keys – garbage, didn’t get very far and wasted precious minutes of my life reading what I did

I've also been surfing YouTube for "I quit sugar and look at all the weight I lost."  I ditched the white stuff this week and am fully committed to staying clean. 

Sugar-is-as-Addictive-as-Cocaine-Heres-How-You-Can-Kick-the-Habit-1.jpg

 

YouTube has been leaving me with a strong desire to start a vlog for a while now.  My polar opposite other half thinks it would be entertaining to watch us talk politics (yawn) and I think it would be cool to document my journey back into good health and prosperity.  We'll see.  He's the tech guy, I'm the idea man but he's been trying to wear both hats and so we've gotten nowhere.  

Here's a video.  

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lo siento

She was living with me.  I was driving her to work among countless other places because she didn’t have a car.  I might have lent her money, I really don’t remember.  I do remember listening to my boyfriend’s voicemail where she left a message saying, “I can’t stop thinking about you and last night.”  She called to leave him the message 2-minutes after she finished having lunch with me.

I was devastated.  I couldn’t breathe.  I went home, waited on the sofa for her to appear.  When she came in I told her to get the fuck out, and to never speak to me again.  Without any drama, she left.  Then that night, she tried to kill herself.  She was rushed to the hospital and her stomach pumped.  I saw her at work a couple of days later.  “Next time you try to kill yourself, don’t fuck it up.”

What kind of demented, piece of shit, asshole says that to someone?

Me.  I’m that fucking asshole. 

I knew right away how wrong it was.  I called my best friend’s mom and told her what I did.  Ever caring, she called a suicide prevention team with the police and they went to where she was staying, to try and divert another attempt.  She said she was fine.  It was fine.

A handful of years later, I joined Facebook.  I friended this girl, apologized for being a bag of shit and she accepted my apology.  I felt a weight had been lifted.  A year later I saw her at The Sand Dollar on Spring Mountain and she was on what I assumed was an incredible amount of cocaine.  I couldn’t get a word in.  I wanted to leave so badly but she just kept talking, about the old times.  No mention of the horrible thing that I had done.

Fast-forward to a couple of months ago.  She killed herself.  The girl who I told not to fuck it up the next time she tried to commit suicide, successfully killed herself.  Did she think about when I said those terrible, terrible words?  I hope I wasn’t even a passing thought.  That me telling her to get it right didn’t enter her head.  I could feel the weight that had been lifted, seep back onto my shoulders.       

 

successful scouting

I was in the casino looking for an edge when I found 4 donut holes for a dollar.  They used to be 3 for a dollar. Was the cashier mistaken?  Should I tell her?  Or should I just hand over my dollar, take the 4 donut holes and bolt?

I took them, walked away briskly but didn’t exactly run, and went about my journey looking for a monetary edge. 

Later that night, I was waiting at a slot machine for a lucky seat at a blackjack table.  There was an elderly man sitting in the seat I wanted.  He had a huge stack of red in front of him and was betting five dollars a hand.  It was going to take forever to bust this guy.  Finally, four hours into the dealer's shift, the senior got up and left.  I raced over to the table and quickly sat down.  I sat down in a puddle of pee.

What.  The.  Fuck.

There were no other chairs in sight and with the game on and my BP at the table, I had to start reading the hole card immediately.  After a few minutes, a teammate brought me a new chair. For four hours I had to sit in pee soaked jeans.

I think we won a lot that night, I honestly don’t remember anything but the donut holes and the pee.  It was too traumatic.

 

fishy

I was playing 5/10 at the Wynn.  An older reg bet into me on the river -- I tank called.  No idea what the hands were.  My call was right and as the dealer was pushing me the pot I said to the guy, "Nice bet."  He politely acknowledged me, but didn't reply.

I NEVER do that.  It's a stupid thing to say.  He bets, I call and win, and as I'm scooping his money I tell him he made a good bet? I legitimately don't remember another time saying that to someone, ever.

That night, in his suite at the Wynn, the older reg shot and killed himself.  Did it have to do with my comment?  Eh, probably not.  But I assume the guy had a gambling problem and I didn't help.  Of course, it could have been life in general that did him in.

I can't help but think about how poker players are just as bad as casinos though.  We create a fun environment.  We act like we are best friends with the fish just like casino hosts do.  We cater to the fish until the fish has no money left.

I heard about a poker player committing suicide last week and it made me think of the guy at the Wynn. I guess I started out writing about that and took a turn on the "poker players are scummy" street.  Are we scummy though?  Is poker a scummy profession?

I understand why someone would kill themselves.  This place can be a nightmare.  And people will tell you that if you're feeling suicidal to seek help, but being your own mental health advocate is an impossible task. It's like asking someone with a broken legs to walk to the doctor.  

Cliffs: Poker, suicide, scummy, life.