It's a Wonder That Val Wasn't Arrested for Indecent Exposure

Can I count on any of you for bail money? I don't need it just yet, but I'm getting my ducks in a row for any future incidents. Accidental, of course. Not premeditated. Something like yesterday. Something in the stars.

If I had looked outside the night before, I would probably have see a bad moon a-risin'. As it was, I picked up Hick at his Storage Unit Store on Sunday afternoon, and we headed for the casino. Yes, I was all optimistic. After all, on my last trip to a casino, I won that $100 in a random drawing. Let me tell you right up front...that $100 is gone! Gone, baby, gone!

Oh, well. Easy come, easy go. Val is prepared for her casino bankroll to go bye-bye. It's her entertainment fund. When it's gone, it's gone. And this portion is GONE! Sure, I still have a stash in the safe, and the CasinoPalooza cash set aside. But the daily scratcher and local casino bankroll is depleted. Which means a period of A) saving the weekly cash allowance to build it back up, B) stopping the scratcher purchases, or C) saving some and cutting back on scratchers. Of course I'm choosing C.

Yes, there was definitely a bad moon on Val's horizon. So many signs, unheeded by eternal optimist Val. Let's enumerate them...

On the way into the casino, Hick and I stopped to swipe our player's cards for the Daily Mercedes Giveaway. But the kiosk wasn't working. Neither of the two we were waiting for. In fact, an employee had one of them opened up, trying to diagnose the problem. So we decided to wait and swipe inside.

I stopped by the bathroom, but it was a full house, with women waiting, so I had to go across the casino to the bigger one.

No machines would pay me! None of the seven different slots I played, except for one, which took pity, I guess, and gave me a $30 bonus. So large-scale was the not-paying of Val that I'm surprised the bill-breaker machine gave me anything back for my special, easy-won $100 from last Monday.

Two guys who were not playing ANY machine stood behind me commenting to each other on my game. It was Miss Kitty, and even though both people on each side of me were playing it around the kiosk, these dudes had to zero in on me. And I wasn't even winning or getting a bonus. Their analysis became tiresome. There is only so much, "It's a cat." and "It's a Japanese cat." that one can hear and remain sane. THEN the women on each side of me left, and those guys still stayed behind me. Finally they took a step, and one said, "Do you want to play it?" and the other one said, "No." So all that for nothing.

I wanted to play Dancing Drums, and miraculously found one of the three machines available...but there was NO CHAIR! So I stuck my player's card in it, and went to some unpopular machines, where each one appeared to have TWO CHAIRS in front of them. Do you know how heavy those casino chairs are to push across the carpet?

A weirdo started jabbering at me. I may tell his tale separately later.

At supper, I eschewed the burger (since they have been making mine well-overdone, even though I request MEDIUM) in favor of a big hot dog. I politely asked for pickle and onions on the side. Hick has had the big hot dog several times, and they gave HIM the side of pickles and onions. When he picked up the order, I had a side of pickles and lettuce. Yeah. A pile of dry, shredded lettuce. Not exactly onions. And Hick didn't even offer to take the receipt up there and get my onions!

After supper, we played another half hour. Or until one of us ran out of money. Which wasn't going to be Hick, because he showed me tickets totaling $160 at supper. So I went back to losing money, and called him when I was up front ready to leave. I thought I'd make a quick pit stop in the big women's restroom (no speculation on which word BIG is modifying!), but of course there were two workers in there mopping the aisle between the two rows of stalls.

On the way out, Hick said he was stopping at the smaller restroom, and I went in the women's side, and of course there were four stalls and four women waiting. So I decided to hold it until I got home in an hour.

Halfway back, Hick stopped to put gas in T-Hoe, but there was a tanker truck with a giant hose filling the underground tank, so I said to forget it, having gotten a clogged fuel filter years ago from such an encounter.

Another 15 miles down the highway, Hick pulled into another station to pump T-Hoe's gas. Oh, and he gave me the receipt for the debit card, and of course there was an issue.

What's that? You don't see the amount of purchase for the gas when Hick paid at the pump? That's because there were no numbers, or anything else, printed on that receipt! Oh, and Hick managed to lock himself out of T-Hoe. How does that even happen? He turned off the ignition, left the key in it, got out, closed the door, and pumped. When he tried to get back in, the door was locked! Lucky for him, I was sitting inside to unlock it.

The evening has definitely arrived. And I'm not talking about the time of day. Even Steven is taking me to task for winning that drawing last week!