I decided to have a very controlled day. I'd start by getting coffee, and digging right in to my work at the very comfy workstation in my Baking room at Mandolin Bay. I did just that and had punishment breakfast of bits and pieces of things I had around with me in the room, including the very last of the emergency cheese. It had served me well.
It felt good to have racked up a couple of winning days, even if the gains were modest. Maybe I was going to pull this trip out of the dumper yet.
I kept this up until after lunchtime (according to my EST body clock) and went down to the buffet to have buffet breakfast for lunch.
I don't mind the breakfast buffet at MB. It was good. Unremarkable, except for the World's Largest Blueberries the Size of Horse Eyeballs.
|W.L.B.S.H.E. in a serving spoon.|
While on my buffet rounds, I spied something that I really wanted. I slipped a couple into my shirt pocket. On another round, I grabbed more. Perfect.
The coffee was really good and overall, I was pleased with how the day was going. Another half day of work and I could gamble and drink to my heart's content. I had a plan for this as I'd spied some machines that had 9/5 Double Double spinners on them.
Burping my way out of the buffet, I started toward the elevators and at the last moment thought 'what the heck' and turned left instead of right. A couple of bucks in the machines wouldn't hurt, right?
I'd have a quick distraction and then get right back down to work. Probably pay for breakfast-lunch.
There are no pictures for this part. There's a good reason for that.
Let's just summarize it this way. An hour later, just one hour later, I was back at my desk, where I should be, fictionalizing customer responses in the 'what can we do better' portions of the cards.
And I know exactly why this happened.
It was a good thing I had work to do. I got to it, fuming and screaming inwardly at myself the most horrific and vile self-deprecations I could think of.
It was so bad, and the trip was so bad, that I decided to just tough it out for the day. I only had so many dollars on me for the trip and that was that.
(Did I mention that I took a second marker at the Nugget before leaving? I got enough so that I'd have roughly $500 a day if everything went south.
Man, I was so far south, I was in Ant-fucking-arctica.)
Work got done, and I had a plastic wine. Sat and took the sun in the armchair, looking out across the valley.
It served me right, this was karma. I mentioned I knew why this happened, and this is why:
I knew the rules, and I broke them. Hell, I shattered them, and what's more, I flaunted it, loading myself up with gram after gram of pure white creamy artery death. On the street they call this stuff Kill Philly.
The Man says no taking food from the buffet, and now I'd paid the price in Cheese Karma.
I killed a bunch of time fooling with the Chromecast and the other equipment Jimmy Poon had sent along and I managed to figure out how to tap into some Periscope feeds of the Springsteen concert that was going on back home.
|Turn the fucking phone sideways, dumbass!|
I did have to go out for dinner, so I compromised and took a very small stake for after, and headed for Hussong's Cantina. There was no band, but there was a bunch of people having their pictures taken.
Not wanting to feel left out, I took their pictures too.
Oh, I also ate a burrito as big as a buffet blueberry.
Like a gambling junky looking for the equivalent of cough syrup to mainline, I ended up playing nickels again in a piss-soaked alleyway in a dark, damp, deserted corner of the Mandalay Pay casino where nobody else ever goes.
Back in the casino, I lost another $100. It didn't take long.
I took a 40 minute shower to kill time and went to bed. I was clean, and cleaned out.
Blondes are more fun
Brunettes are all right
It takes a red-headed woman
To click my Facebook Like