Friday, September 18, 2009

Hit me....please

Our neighborhood had its annual casino night party - we hadn't been for years. The margaritas were pretty crummy and the Dos Equis were gone by the time I hit the cooler (although I was able to make do with a Bud Light and Miller Light).

I had totally forgotten how to play Blackjack and had also (conveniently) forgotten how very, very, very bad I am with arithmetic. Especially after I've had a beer. Fortunately, I was able to remind myself that this was NOT real money and I needed to get home to my kids, so I just kept putting it all down until I lost it all.

I've never been to Vegas. And that's probably a good thing - I'd get eaten alive there. You can tell that's the case because I'm completely unable to say "hit me." It sounds so demanding. I always have to say please for my first request. As in..."hit me, please."

Really. I'm quite the dweeb. If I ever went to Vegas, I'm sure I'd be worried the whole time that maybe I was hurting the mob bosses' feelings or something. Has anyone ever brought homemade cookies to a casino? (And lived to tell about it?)

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