Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The New Biggest Fail Record










Tuesday November 3, 2015 - Day 13 - part 3

When I went to the room, Mrs. F was in bed for a nap, and by the time I finished my two doubles (7.93 seconds later, actually), she was sound asleep.

I thought about waking her up so she could say magical things that would make me feel better. This was my time of NEED dammit!

But I didn't. I just lay down on the bed, face down, my head spinning, and that sick, horrible feeling hanging off my guts like wet, cold jeans hanging on a line in late fall. And, actually, I also still had the feeling of wet, cold jeans hanging around my asshole.

I didn't know which was worse, have a wet ass, or losing $24,000.

That's because I'm stupid. It's obviously the money, honey...

I took a long, long break and tried to get some perspective. After a while, the Quad Queen woke up.

"Well, I now have the record for the biggest fail ever," I said. "You held the record for, what, a couple of days?"

I sat with the armchair turned toward the amazing strip view out the window, and just sat and looked at it for eons.
John, Paul, George and Rin-   Close up.
I texted one of my gambling pals the photos of my incredible faceplant.

And you know, it's all how you look at things, and what opportunities you take.

I had told the Quad Queen when she had her triple fail that we were blessed to have the opportunity to even be in such a position, to experience that rare, rare situation. It was to be savored, and enjoyed, and never regretted.

This, of course, was all bullshit that I made up just to make her feel better.

And now, I had to try that same bullshit on myself.

Because, you see, looking back to the Lake Havasu City thermostat story... the next day in the rental house, we aired the house out early, thinking maybe if we got it cooled down, it wouldn't be so hot by evening. I kept walking by that thermostat, looking at the sign, watching the temperature get higher.

By mid-afternoon, we were roasting in our own juices. I kept checking for emails, but none were forthcoming. I started to think about what kind of toothpick or paperclip I could lay my hands on to lower the damn setting through the plastic jail that encased the controls.

I stood looking at the thing, wondering how one would even turn on the swamp cooler when I noticed that things weren't as they seemed. There was actually a control box behind the sign saying "don't you fuck with the swamp cooler!" that controlled the fucking swamp cooler. So that explained that.

And I reached out to the plastic casing to sort of explore it, see if I might open it or bend it or get inside it.

And my finger reached out and touched the thermostat lever.

It wasn't encased at all. It had the bottom part of the case around it which made it look like it was encased - a trick of light from the translucent plastic. I turned it down and the cool air kicked in and started flowing.

We'd laid in our beds sweating our respective nibbly bits off all night long the night before when all we had to do was - horrors!!! - TURN DOWN THE THERMOSTAT!!!!!!!!

What a novel concept though, how were we to know?

We laughed at ourselves pretty hard. We imagined the conversation with the owner that thankfully would never come.

"You are finding it too hot?"

"Yes."

"Have you turned down the thermostat?"

"No."

"Really? You haven't turned it down?"

"No. We are uneducated in the ways of your people. We are unfamiliar with such wonders as little fucking levers that make the heat bearable. Teach us! And while you are at it, teach us to scale and gut a fish with a blunt piece of gravel, and eat the fish raw and read its entrails for signs of the apocalypse like it was the New York fucking Times."

"Ha ha ha! You are such simpletons."

"Which way do I push the magic lever again?..."

Sometimes all you have to do is recognize your opportunity and just reach out and push the lever.

After a couple of hours, maybe three, of cooling off and putting some distance behind me and total and complete disatafailure, I started to think a bit philosophically about it.

I was there, in Vegas, with a casino at my disposal. Tick Tock, baby, Tick Tock. You have to live it while you can, right?
Have a seat and take the ride.

And so I headed down to the casino, finally, and decided to have a bash at Double Slutty Times Pay (The Cramp Sisters).

I put a hundy into that sucker and had at it. I decided to go for Double Double Bonus. Before long, I was ahead with a quad.
And then I was dealt this.

You have got to be KIDDING me.

Again??????

Yes again.

I phoned the Quad Queen.

"Hi, it's me," I said in a dog-tired sing song sad tone. "It's happening... again."

"What do you have?"

"Four to a Royal on Five play. Quarters. No spinner."

"Are you going to make it into an aggravating cliffhanger that is going to annoy and yet delight your readership?"

"I haven't decided yet. I'm not sure they are very forgiving of cliffhangers."

"Well, make up your mind and press the damn button."

Honestly, I'd already been through such a rollercoaster (big on the coaster, not so big on the roller) that it was just a flat anticlimax to get this:

Thud.
I simply moved on this time. What else can you do?

The good news is, the machine was hitting! I was on a roll and rang that sucker up to about 500 bucks by the time the Quad Queen joined me.
Four Pointies!!! No kicker, though.
Threes and got the kicker!!
Quad 7s with 2x multiplier. This could have been a huge one. Oh well.
As these things do, my credits now waned. And in fact, I blew through all that $500 because the Quad Queen arrived and we were playing and we were having fun. A lot of fun. And people kept bringing us intoxicating fluids to consume.

I wasn't going to take it though, I even put a second hundy in there.

And then a third.

And then I got it going again. And I pounded those buttons. Pound, Flushie, POUND!!



I wanted a big and, and I wanted my $300 back, if not more.

Finally, I got a consolation prize - dealt Queens.
 I'd played an imperial humpload of points and at the end of it all, I cashed out up $4 for the session. Take THAT video poker gods!!!!

And where are the Quad Queen's pictures? There are none. She had a few minor quads, but I didn't bother with pictures. Because it does get kind of repetitive. It does. It gets repetitive. It does get repetitive.

QQ took a break again and I hit the blackjack table. I did all right too. I bought in for $200, dropped down some, got even again, and then up. I texted QQ that I was alone at the table and to join me.
By the time she got there though, the table was busy and she sat, filling the last spot and we had a great little run together, laughing it up with the other players and the dealer too.

'Ha ha ha', we went. 'Ha ha ha!'

Okay, here's the real fun:
By then it was the cocktail hour (when isn't it?) and the bar was rocking.

And we played it the way we used to. One machine, between us. At the bar because of the huge Royal progressive. Started with $20.

And we took turns.

Just like the old days when our budget was one tenth of what it is now. We had drinks and some laughs with the CWs - we were right next to their station. And we got on a little run!



Secret Cocktail Waitress Language

This is creepy to me. Tiny Barbie doll ass, huge boobs, no head. Is this really how we treat our sex object drink containers today?

We cashed out $245 from our $20 and split the take. Dinner at the coffee shop which, in another paroxysm of idiot-savant creativity, some uber-design weenie with a single eyebrow and German-made pink eyeglass frames with sides two and a half inches high, had spent two days and three sleepless nights gulping bubble tea like a giggling 11 year old Korean schoolgirl, eager to top his triumph of nomenclature naming the buffet 'The Buffet', had named, brilliantly, The Coffee Shop.

I shit you not.

We had... something. Ah, I remember. QQ had beef stroking off (extra creamy tonight!), and I had that CTUG breakfast Panplate that she'd had the other day. And it was just as horrid as she said.


But somehow, we were very, very happy.

Even better, I'd eked out a win!

RF: Day +$250 Trip: +$5360
QQ: Day -$600 Trip: -$3900
Combined: +$1460


1 comment:

  1. So glad you're very, very happy and having such a great time!

    I can totally relate to your Slutty Times Pay ordeal. Several years ago, playing quarter 5-line STP at Caesars, it dealt me 4 to the royal... and then the spinner started going. My pulse started pounding. Boop boop beep boop beep BOOP! the machine said, and then stopped on 10X. And you know that exaggerated presentation it does with the 10X? Yeah, I'm sitting there going "FIFTY THOUSAND FIFTY THOUSAND FIFTY THOUSAND!" as it did its thing.

    It was, uhh, not fifty thousand.

    After that huge letdown, I'm still thinking, hey, I'm drawing live 5 times to $10,000 a hand! Woot! TEN THOUSAND TEN THOUSAND TEN THOUSAND!

    It was, uhhh, not ten thousand.

    I think I got a Jacks or Better or something.

    Yeah. That. Took me a long time to be able to play again. And to stop shaking.

    And hey, as always, thanks so much for your awesome trip report! Your writing is fantastic, just like being there with you, only funnier!

    ReplyDelete

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