lord

Some days when I’m out and about in the world working, or whatever, I don’t speak to anyone except for myself.  I have a strong internal dialogue that’s always on. Sometimes I have to turn off the car radio so I can pay attention to it.  I don’t always speak out loud whatever it is that my brain is playing out but when I do I feel safe in assuming that if other drivers catch a glimpse of me they will think I’m either practicing lines for a dramatic commercial audition I have later in the day or I’m having an intense debate with my lover over what place settings will match the highlights in my hair at our wedding reception.

Mix together my lack of human interaction with my love of thinking I know how to speak Spanish and this last month has been magical.

First, as I was getting up from a machine an abuela who had been sweating me came closer to take a look. I motioned for her to take my seat and this little lady started throwing Spanish at me! I cannot adequately describe to you, dear reader, how much I love when people are forced to let me practice my Spanish because they need something and I’m the only viable option around. 

So she goes, “¿Hablas Español?” (This is how it always starts.) And I say “poquito’ but acting real chill like I don’t even care if we don’t talk I can go home and play with Rosetta Stone.  Then as she motioned towards the machine she said, get this, “No entiendo.”

She didn’t know how to play the machine!  Could this spot have been any better for me? 

We are in a casino in Vegas, of course someone will eventually walk by who speaks better Spanish than me but nobody will walk by who speaks better Spanish and knows how this slot machine works! Game on!

I got to explain the bet sizes, what buttons to push and what symbols were the luckiest all while practicing my better than high school level but not as good as if I studied abroad level Spanish. She wanted to know how to get in the bonus round and I kept telling her we don’t know when it will happen!  It’s a surprise!  It’s so fun!

“No sabemos cuando! Es una sorpresa! Es muy divertido!”

And

“Vanna tiene dientes bonitos.”

After this I’m walking around for a few weeks feeling pretty good about myself, kind of like a big shot.  Then the Spanish gods threw me a test.

I’m in a casino on graveyard, not doing anything but looking like my usual maybe I could be Mexican but also maybe I could be Persian self, and a rattled, young slot tech calls me over and asks if I can speak Spanish. Of course I can speak Spanish! Where’s the fire!?

“¿Donde esta el fuego?”

I follow her a couple aisles down and I’m presented with a very confused and visibly bothered Latin American cowboy, hat and all, who appears to have a serious problem. There are beads of sweat on his face. I don’t think he wants to know about bonus rounds.

So I say, “Hola. ¿Que pasó?” and then he hit me with a chaotic, “teléfono, blue tooth, mi dinero,
máquina, chinga.”

There were a lot of other words but I immediately cracked under the pressure and couldn’t make sense of any of them.  I fumbled through asking him some questions. He didn’t lose his money playing a slot machine.  Nobody took his money. He did not need a charger. That’s all I could gather.  I didn’t know how to help this vaquero.

The slot tech continued to try and flag down someone who actually spoke Spanish, not the pretend taco bell level one stuff I was throwing out.

She found a woman with terrible, terrible lip injections which shouldn’t really matter but it’s all I could think about at the time.

I speak Spanish better than her doctor does injections. 

Anyway, she said she could speak a little Spanish.  I already knew this was going to be a bust but ok go for it.  The man throws the “teléfono, blue tooth, mi dinero, máquina, chinga” at her and without missing a beat she says “Oh yeah he just needs a phone charger.”

I was dying.

Dead.

Next the tech flags down a young girl who could actually speak Spanish; a legit native speaker.  Her face was normal so it was a little less interesting to watch but at this point I was eager enough to find out what the cowboy’s problem was it didn’t matter.

The ranchero is super frustrated now by the way, he cannot believe our idiocy.

He throws the same speech to this girl, “teléfono, blue tooth, mi dinero, máquina, chinga.” and she looks a little confused.  She starts asking him questions and by now I’ve gotten my Spanish vocabulary memory back and can understand the conversation.  She’s asking him which machine he’s talking about.  Where is his money? How much money? Does he need a bank? 

Alright.

You guys.

The big reveal is this: The cowboy plugged his phone into a machine to charge.  His blue tooth was on.  The machine took all of his money off of his phone.

Are we all clear?

This vato claimed he plugged his phone into a slot machine and his money was wiped.  What money? Nobody knows. What does his blue tooth being on have to do with it? Dunno. Was the money in a bank? A crypto wallet? CashApp? Guys, we don’t know!

It wasn’t my poor Spanish that was the problem it was that this guy was loco.  I suggested to the tech she find a jefe and I took off, my work there was done.


 

 

 

 

 

 

chasing happiness

I have a long list of thoughts in the notepad on my phone labeled “thoughts.” Lots of great stuff. Amazing things. I might bang out two posts tonight. 

The notepad labeled “things to bang” is blank.

Let’s get right into it.

First.  I joined Bumble and it’s amazing. The possibilities are endless.  I didn’t join to find hook-ups in the traditional sense.  My reasons are less nefarious. 

A decent number of guys on Bumble put their actual, no lie cross their fingers hope to die, occupation in their bio.  I assume girls don’t do this because we’re all scared of freakshows finding us at work and killing us. 

But a lot of the profiles will straight up read things like “Baggage Handler McCarran Airport” and “Table Games Manager Whiskey Pete’s.”  You have to sift through all the “business owner at ask me later” and “finance whatever the fuck” these guys pretend they are. But there are some winners.  All you APs out there do what you will with this information; I won’t even bill you for it.  The Bumble world is your oyster bar at Palace Station.

I don’t even like that place.  But if there’s no line I might slip in and get a roll. Savory.

Bumble (this post has not been sponsored by Bumble) has also been overflowing with bios reading “professional poker player.”  I’ve only been scrolling through it this month but I’m guessing a lot of these pros are WSOP summer warriors.  Some I know, most I don’t and are probably catfishing their professions but what do I care? My profile pic is Annie Duke and I list my job as “resulting coach.”

Also. This. This did not get enough goddamn love it was the best gem I found and I want you all to RT for awareness.

I’m drinking tea I just had macaroni and cheese and I watched the Jonas Brothers documentary earlier just so we are all clear on what headspace I’m in.

Scene: I’m on a table game and my neighbor seeing how poorly I play tells me if I show him my hand he will help me, he doesn’t want to see me lose. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me.  To him it’s more likely I’m an astronaut than a lifelong gambling connoisseur.  If he asks I already made the decision to not tell him a fake place of work in case he goes there to kill me, I’m not around and he kills someone else.  #feminism

What he tells me:

He has 100k in his backpack. 

He’s played the highest stakes poker games in existence. 

He’s better at math than anyone in the casino. 

Things I know:

He’s betting $6 a hand with $4000 behind.

He’s not playing correct strategy, basic or otherwise.

So this guy gives me an offer: Show him my hand, he’ll tell me how to play and if I win, I keep my money.  If I lose he will refund me my loss. 

The game pays odds. 

Assuming this savant was going to hold up his end of the bargain (I kinda thought he might) the obvious EV move is to glue myself to the chair.  That’s what Annie Duke would say.

But is it really?

As I’ve matured my EV decisions are weighed more heavily than they used to be by factors other than money.  Comfort and happiness make that list.  And even though I’ve generally avoided doing things I do not like to do, I have put myself in quite a few uncomfortable casino predicaments I didn’t love in order to get the money.  This one though I could not do. I could not sit and engage this man and nod at the absurdity he was speaking. I could not pretend to care or manufacture kinship.

And this is why prostitutes are amazing creatures.  Their adaptability is something to envy. #feminism

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

love wins

This post is a hodgepodge.  Not a sexy word but if you could see what I was wearing right now... 

And so keeping with the mood, hodgepodge it is.  There’s exhilarating gambling discussion within. I know my audience. I know what you people want. Sometimes I sell out talking about big real world stuff but this post has it all.

Case in point, I arrived in front of an empty parking space about a second after another car arrived on its opposite side.  Was she headed down the lane to take the spot or was she headed down the lane to leave? I gave two beats and seeing no turn signal, I took the spot.  After I parked the woman didn’t move her car. Obvious to me now she wanted the spot I got out and this is what went down:

Lady who doesn’t know what a blinker is: “I was going to park there.”

Person who is able to properly analyze a situation and act accordingly: “So why wasn’t your blinker on?”

LWDKWABI: “I didn’t know you were a racist.”

There’s so much wrong with this interaction, I can’t. 

I won’t.

Next.

I felt something in my eye for a couple of days and I was due for a check-up anyway so I went to my optometrist. I had been up 31 hours by the time my appointment rolled around and usually I wouldn’t go but there’s this thing in my eye and my eye is sort of important so I went.  Number one; my peripheral vision test was so bad the tech had to tell me the test had started because I wasn’t reacting to anything.  I wasn’t seeing anything flash in my side view. Then she gave it to me again with the same result.  The doc told me some people have off days and my eyes looked otherwise healthy but that my boxing career was over.  That news was hard to take.

Number two; he couldn’t see anything in my eye but did notice some inflammation so this man wanted to flip my eyelid over like little kids sometimes do and if he saw something he said he could swab it with a cotton stick. What?  No. Is he crazy? No. Not happening.  He sent me home with eye drops and told me if nothing changed I had to come back in two days. 

Nothing changed. 

I took drugs, put on my big girl pants, marched into his office and pleaded with him to treat me with kid gloves.  I let this professional eyelid flipper do his thing and you know what was in my eye?  Three eyelashes so far up they couldn’t escape on their own and this man swabbed them. My day was done after that, I needed a nap.

Alright gamblers, here’s what you’ve been waiting for.  Pass out the dessert and drum roll please…

Over the last year “hustler twitter” has really grown.  And with that a handful of users regularly post very specific ways to beat certain games.  I’ve read the same exact sentiment from three of these people and it’s in the vein of them just wanting to “help” people.  They like helping people.  Etcetera.

My condensed view is this: It’s true. These posters are helping a slew of new people take advantage of things they would not normally be privy to.  If you were already established in the scene you can feel the impact.  More people who were probably in the casino environment already either as other types of advantage players, poker players or casual gamblers now know what to look for and how to approach situations because of the considerable uptick of posted detailed instruction. And with this, livelihoods are being wrecked.  People who had already been hustling for a living are having their income destroyed.  In my view the help being given to a new population is less meaningful than the hurt that’s happening to established hustlers and that’s a net negative.

But, you all do you.  I’m not here to argue about it.  If you disagree just chalk it up to me being a racist.


insight timing

I took more than the recommended dose of recreational Valium so let’s go for a longer ride than usual…

The last few months I’ve found myself sitting in the casino, waiting for something exciting to happen, and thinking mostly about my mortality.  If I’m on a game, if I’m on my way to a game, if I’m going over a game plan, I’m solid. But if I have to pass time in a casino without a spot to obsess about, I sit there preoccupied with how I’ll be dead soon and gambling is dumb. Then my mind goes straight to the reality that a lot of the world is in crisis and unimaginable horrors are happening and then I’m over the “gambling is dumb” part but am still besieged with my mortality.  

My mind used to, in simpler terms, wander excessively when I was younger so to distract myself I’d routinely travel and work 4000 hours a year.

Now with my current life status I’m back to my old ways, except I’m only allotted half the time to work an unhealthy amount.  My genius child whose presence I am honored to soak in takes up the other half.  

I obsess about how I’m missing 50% of his childhood, of his first taste of a food or when he learns a new word and I’m not there.  It sucks.  Being separated sucks.  Being severed from a unit you did not want to have to sever from sucks.  I’m not even in the mood to use a thesaurus, that’s how bad it sucks. And knowing that life is insanely short and valuable and this is the situation I’m in is the saddest thing I’ve ever experienced.  It should not be so hard to maintain a relationship, unless someone checks out I suppose. And then the blame game starts, and it never ends, and then we die.

The bright side to all of it is that I’m much less angry.  On the flip side, I’m depressed.  So tonight is one of those 50%’s that I’m without child, without unit, but what’s different is I quit the grind early. Eh, I inputted some data if I’m going to be honest, but now that I’m done I’m officially off for the rest of the night. Artificially relaxed and with a never-ending cup of tea beside me (it’s Lipton).

So what should we talk about!? How so many successful men who we meet in the casino have no common sense? 

Wait, I just re-read the next to next to last paragraph and it sounds brutal.  Nobody over here thinking of taking a leap off the top floor of the Silverton garage, we are fine. (A couple did that and I wondered why they didn’t choose a taller garage).

Back to the story…

I used to wonder about this all the time (successful men not having common sense) but now I’m used to it, I almost expect it. They own businesses or do work in the real world that I could never find the mental capability to do yet they’re clueless about simple things.  I don’t mean gambling-wise, even though they’re clueless about that too.  It’s not that they don’t know basic strategy or try to martingale their way to riches, or even the superstitions they are not immune to. I mean oftentimes the high-level business exec with the Patek Phillippe can’t understand what amount to bet on a carnival game even though he’s been at the table for 4 hours or him and his entourage not being able to find the Uber pick up. Guys, it isn’t hard. I know I have better examples, but I’m woozy, not my best work.

Oh wait, I wanted to throw this nugget in somewhere, an example of money not signaling smarts.  I guess here is as good as any. I played poker with A-Rod for a few hours and the guy could not grasp the simplest things. He didn’t get the betting in 20/40 limit, completely did not get it and it went on for hours. It wasn’t pot limit, it was a fixed limit game, you deal with 20 and 40 dollar bets. I mean I don’t know, maybe he was on something?  Didn’t seem like it. I had to switch games because the rest of the table kept trying to chat him up and the game was too slow (must get hands in!!!) but he was polite and to be fair I’m sure I’ve given off a dumb as a bag of bricks vibe in some life scenario that I wasn’t even aware of but bro, when the person to your right has acted, its your turn, it never changes!

By the way did you guys see the Jose Canseco tweets this week about A-Rod cheating with his ex-wife? They were amusing enough for me to give him a follow and also what brought this super fascinating memory to life.

Alright let’s wrap this up.

I heard the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel was pretty good, I think I’m going to binge that. I’m in a funk, and it’s probably going to get much worse before it gets better. I’m not even on a losing streak, work has been above average.  This is not a cry for help; nobody hit me up with essential oil recommendations or links to meditation apps.  If anything, send me suggestions for good stand up. I’ve got a new thing for Jaboukie, but he doesn’t have a lot of content online.  For your viewing pleasure I’ve included him below.


gidget

I had very specific targets tonight and they did not pan out.  I also had a migraine that a cocktail of caffeine and drugs could not kill, so I withdrew the troops and took cover.  Once safely sheltered I began searching for adoptable dogs online.  I’m not a dog or cat or any other kind of pet person.  I don’t know why I look at dog profiles as much as I do.  I have a friend that spends hours watching videos of sand on YouTube.  Same thing?

No. Her thing is just weird.

I kid you not, I just typed “sand” into YouTube search and found a video with over 5 million views.  I’ll post it below because obviously.

Maybe there are millions of people who also sweat adoptable dogs online that have no intention of adopti…

Wait!  I’m watching and listening to this sand video and I don’t know what the hell is going on.  I’m so confused.  I can’t think.  I’ll pause it but if you want the same experience start the video below then try to recite the alphabet, it’s impossible.

Okay, back to the dogs.  I found a profile of two senior dogs whose owner has passed away.  The ad says they are bonded for life.  One of them is totally blind and only has one eye.  I want them.  I want these dogs. 

doggies.jpg

Maybe I took too much Tylenol but I’m really feeling this pair.  I shall reassess my feelings in the morning and proceed from there.  How I wish I had taken this advice ten dozen other times in my younger years.  But then I wouldn’t be me now would I?

And I’m fantastic.  It’s 2019 and I’m only going to become more fantastic!  Because I don’t have to be a great basketball player.  I don’t have to dribble the ball fast or throw the ball into the basket.  Because all I have to do is be the best rx I can be.

Because I’m good enough.  I’m smart enough.  And doggone it people like me.

You guys I just channeled Eminem with these sick throwbacks and wordplay.  Source here if I lost you and weird “very satisfying” sand fetish or whatever it is video below.