I worked as a casino bartender for over two years. In that time, I kept a journal recording first how much money I made each day, and then ridiculous shit (in this case literally) I would see everyday.
There are many kinds of casino people, with very different character traits. These categories will be explained in a later entry, but for now I want to get right down to one of the most disgusting habits that some casino goers possess: Soiling themselves.
I cannot tell you how many otherwise normal looking people have defiled themselves at the casino during my tenure there. On any given night, there is probably at least a handful of people sitting in some sort of their own human waste, for sometimes half a day, and counting. These are some of the most disgusting people a casino has to offer. They are, for the most part, old people. I chalk this up to three things: A) Old people have less bladder control B) Old people have less a concept of time and space C) Old people fought in WWII D) Old people could give a shit about you (pun VERY intended) and finally, E) Old people are old. OK, so that is more than three things, but I'm getting older, and can't be held accountable for my actions. Are you my grandson?
See what I did there? It happens all the time: Old people forgiveness. They make you wanna change their diaper, wrap them up in a blanket, and put them down for a nap. That said, if you have a grandparent that goes to the casino, then they, or their bridge partner, have almost certainly defacated in their pantalloons while there.
Now, it isn't ALWAYS an old person that does the deed. I can often be a "normal" person. Maybe not you childhood Little League coach, but probably that other dad that called himself a coach, when really he did nothing for the team but eat the snacks that the moms brought. Yep, that guy is a pants pooper.
It takes a lot for a normal person to piss, let alone shit, in their own pants, and then willingly sit in it for hours at a time. The main "reason" for this habit has to do with their addiction to gambling, and their game of choice- Slot machines. Since slot machines are supposed to pay out every once-in-awhile, the idea is that the more time and money you put into a machine, the more likely it is you will hit that jackpot. This is as ridiculous as assuming you will bang a super-model, just because you've always wanted to. Regardless, people are afraid of losing sight of their coveted machine, for fear that another loser will "steal" their jackpot. As a result, neither hunger, sleep deprivation, nor full bladder and bowels can make them leave their seats.
For this particular kind of casino person, soiling themsevles is so much a regular occurance, that they have developed strategies to elude casino officials of their revolting behavor, as that shit doesn't fly around here (Again with the puns, this is too easy).
Some of their tactics include, but are not limited to (as we are learning more everyday):
The "Wasn't Me"- This is when a person that is without a doubt sitting on a warm poo patty, just plays it cool. When a security guard walks by, they won't make eye contact, but if provoked, will blame it on a neighbor, much like they would a fart.
The "Mr. Bucket"- This is when a person will leave their slot machine (never too far though) to either piss in, or collect turds out of their drawers, and deposit them in now otherwise obsolete coin buckets. They will then leave the bucket in the corner, as if it is a treasure to be hidden for a lucky employee to find.
The "Innocent Bystander"- This is when a male, will stand in front of a covered garbage can (again, not too far from his machine) place his penis in the can, while with both hands he plays with his phone, or looks through his wallet, as he empties his bladder.
The "Turd Trot" (My personal favorite)- This is when a person will walk around the casino (Or once, even before entering the casino floor, which I don't understand, as they aren't even on a slot machine yet), and shake turds out of the bottom of their pant legs, every few steps. You never expect to step in poo when walking around in a lavish casino, but it has happened, and will again.
Next time you're at a casino, stay away from the slots, and be wary of old people, because that fart smell isn't going away until they do. I hope I caught you on your lunch break.
12.09.2010
Something Borrowed
Two very good friends of mine (Joe and Cherelle) are tying the knot this upcoming May, and it made me think about the whole being a groomsman thing, and more specifically, renting a tuxedo.
Almost every man that gets married, rents a tuxedo to wear during their nuptials. This makes sense, as most men do not own their own tuxedos, and even if they did, you would have to be very optimistic to think that you will still fit in it for enough years to make it worth buying one for your wedding. So, we rent them. The thing I thought was funny about the whole experience, is that on this, the most important day of your life (I hope), you aren't even wearing your own clothes! In fact, you are wearing a tuxedo that belongs to a complete stranger, who has in turn loaned it out to countless other strangers before you.
With that in mind, one can only wonder what things must have happened to the men that have worn that tuxedo before you:
At least one young man has lost his virginity after prom, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man has lost his virginity after his wedding, wearing that tuxedo (sucker). At least one man has sweat his balls off dancing to "Rock me Amadeus" at a wedding he barely got invited to, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man, a BEST man, has embarrassed himself in front of everyone that knows him by drunkenly admitting in his speech that he slept with the bride before the groom did, wearing that tuxedo. It is safe to assume also, that someone has vomited on that tuxedo; urinated in that tuxedo; ejaculated in, or on that tuxedo; bled on that tuxedo (the aforementioned "best" man). At the very least, a couple dozen, to over a hundred men (depending on the age of the garment) have carried around their sweaty balls, in front of their sweaty asses, in that tuxedo.
One could look at this as an awful, awful thing. Or, you can trust in the integrity of modern day dry-cleaning chemicals, and be happy for what IS still in that tuxedo: Good vibes.
The vast majority of men that have worn those threads have had the time of their lives doing so. You don't rent a tuxedo to go to a funeral, and the people that wear tuxedos for every damn occasion usually own their own. No, the men that rented the tuxedo you're wearing, while freely giving up your life of bachelorhood, have been the tail chasing, open bar perching, social smoking, mistake making American men that you have always been one of yourself.
So if you find yourself standing at the alter as your bride-to-be is taking the most life changing steps toward you, and you think to yourself for just a second, "I wish I were in someone else's shoes right now", remember...you are.
Almost every man that gets married, rents a tuxedo to wear during their nuptials. This makes sense, as most men do not own their own tuxedos, and even if they did, you would have to be very optimistic to think that you will still fit in it for enough years to make it worth buying one for your wedding. So, we rent them. The thing I thought was funny about the whole experience, is that on this, the most important day of your life (I hope), you aren't even wearing your own clothes! In fact, you are wearing a tuxedo that belongs to a complete stranger, who has in turn loaned it out to countless other strangers before you.
With that in mind, one can only wonder what things must have happened to the men that have worn that tuxedo before you:
At least one young man has lost his virginity after prom, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man has lost his virginity after his wedding, wearing that tuxedo (sucker). At least one man has sweat his balls off dancing to "Rock me Amadeus" at a wedding he barely got invited to, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man, a BEST man, has embarrassed himself in front of everyone that knows him by drunkenly admitting in his speech that he slept with the bride before the groom did, wearing that tuxedo. It is safe to assume also, that someone has vomited on that tuxedo; urinated in that tuxedo; ejaculated in, or on that tuxedo; bled on that tuxedo (the aforementioned "best" man). At the very least, a couple dozen, to over a hundred men (depending on the age of the garment) have carried around their sweaty balls, in front of their sweaty asses, in that tuxedo.
One could look at this as an awful, awful thing. Or, you can trust in the integrity of modern day dry-cleaning chemicals, and be happy for what IS still in that tuxedo: Good vibes.
The vast majority of men that have worn those threads have had the time of their lives doing so. You don't rent a tuxedo to go to a funeral, and the people that wear tuxedos for every damn occasion usually own their own. No, the men that rented the tuxedo you're wearing, while freely giving up your life of bachelorhood, have been the tail chasing, open bar perching, social smoking, mistake making American men that you have always been one of yourself.
So if you find yourself standing at the alter as your bride-to-be is taking the most life changing steps toward you, and you think to yourself for just a second, "I wish I were in someone else's shoes right now", remember...you are.
11.30.2010
Sex Act or Cocktail? The Quiz
This is something I've thought about for awhile. There are so many disgusting sex acts, and tasty cocktails that have similar names. So, can you guess which are which?
Leave comments with answers, or just google them. By the way, if you ace this thing, you areeither a drunk, pervert, or both a good friend of mine.
Cheers!
Mexican Avalanche Jack Rose Alaskan Fire Dragon
Strawberry Shortcake French Connection Napolean's Cap
Egg Drop Soup Honey Smacks Brass Monkey
Peacock Breeze Bloody Aztec Golden Cadillac
Red Raisin Rusty Pumpkin Salty Walrus
One-Balled Dictator Pink Squirrel
I wish I had thought ahead to be like, "Haha, they're all sex acts", but they aren't :(
Leave comments with answers, or just google them. By the way, if you ace this thing, you are
Cheers!
Mexican Avalanche Jack Rose Alaskan Fire Dragon
Strawberry Shortcake French Connection Napolean's Cap
Alabama Hotpocket Arabian Sandstorm Hayride
Corpse Reviver Amish Plow Dirty Mother
Chocolate Soldier Beverly Hills Twister Cosby SweaterEgg Drop Soup Honey Smacks Brass Monkey
Peacock Breeze Bloody Aztec Golden Cadillac
Red Raisin Rusty Pumpkin Salty Walrus
One-Balled Dictator Pink Squirrel
I wish I had thought ahead to be like, "Haha, they're all sex acts", but they aren't :(
11.27.2010
"Knock Three Times" if you don't know me.
An interesting thing occurred to me the other day when the doorbell rang, and pandemonium ensued: If someone knocks at your door, or rings the bell, it means they are uninvited.
I'll elaborate. There was a time in our lives, when you would go over to a friend's house, knock on the door, and then ask for what you wanted (Usually to hangout or borrow something). In fact, most of the time the door bell, or even house phone rang, We would get excited. Who could it be, a friend looking for fun? The fact was, it could be anyone, welcomed or not. The solicitor could still call or knock on your door, but you would still run to the phone or door to see who it was. Now, at least in my household, this is so not the case.
When the phone rings at my house, I don't even bother to look at the caller ID; I know it isn't for me, and more than likely my parents aren't even interested in whoever is calling. When the doorbell rings, a few things happen: The four family dogs go crazy. They bark uncontrollably, and run between windows frantically. All the while, at least a few family members will cower away, or feign ignorance that someone is even at the door. The remaining members of the family will try to herd the dogs away from the door, while suspiciously asking eachother who the hell could be out there, and what the hell they could possible want.
My family hasn't become more reclusive through the years, there is a simple reason for the change- Cell phones. If you are invited to someone's house now, you will follow strict protocol: Text in advance to tell them when you are coming over; having arrived, call them to let them know you are there (unless given previous instructions to "just walk in"), have the door opened for you, or be given aforementioned "just walk in" instructions.
The point is that noone that is welcome comes unannounced anymore. Why would they? It is so easy to communicate now, that it is far more adventagious to call or text ahead, so that noone is taken unawares, and you don't waste a trip to someone's house when they aren't home, or are busy masturbating.
With our friends calling ahead of time, there is hardly any news that can come to your front door unannounced that is good news (excluding deliveries, which are so easy to track you could schedule your entire day around when they are due to arrive). No, they are likely selling something; asking you to sign something, vote for something, join something, pray for something; or they are a disgruntled neighbor coming to complain about how shitty of a neighbor you no doubt are. Whatever the case, the sound that once triggered an endorphone rush, now triggers me to peek out the window as ask myself: "Who the fuck is out there, and what do they want?"
I'll elaborate. There was a time in our lives, when you would go over to a friend's house, knock on the door, and then ask for what you wanted (Usually to hangout or borrow something). In fact, most of the time the door bell, or even house phone rang, We would get excited. Who could it be, a friend looking for fun? The fact was, it could be anyone, welcomed or not. The solicitor could still call or knock on your door, but you would still run to the phone or door to see who it was. Now, at least in my household, this is so not the case.
When the phone rings at my house, I don't even bother to look at the caller ID; I know it isn't for me, and more than likely my parents aren't even interested in whoever is calling. When the doorbell rings, a few things happen: The four family dogs go crazy. They bark uncontrollably, and run between windows frantically. All the while, at least a few family members will cower away, or feign ignorance that someone is even at the door. The remaining members of the family will try to herd the dogs away from the door, while suspiciously asking eachother who the hell could be out there, and what the hell they could possible want.
My family hasn't become more reclusive through the years, there is a simple reason for the change- Cell phones. If you are invited to someone's house now, you will follow strict protocol: Text in advance to tell them when you are coming over; having arrived, call them to let them know you are there (unless given previous instructions to "just walk in"), have the door opened for you, or be given aforementioned "just walk in" instructions.
The point is that noone that is welcome comes unannounced anymore. Why would they? It is so easy to communicate now, that it is far more adventagious to call or text ahead, so that noone is taken unawares, and you don't waste a trip to someone's house when they aren't home, or are busy masturbating.
With our friends calling ahead of time, there is hardly any news that can come to your front door unannounced that is good news (excluding deliveries, which are so easy to track you could schedule your entire day around when they are due to arrive). No, they are likely selling something; asking you to sign something, vote for something, join something, pray for something; or they are a disgruntled neighbor coming to complain about how shitty of a neighbor you no doubt are. Whatever the case, the sound that once triggered an endorphone rush, now triggers me to peek out the window as ask myself: "Who the fuck is out there, and what do they want?"
11.23.2010
Sh*t My Girlfriend Says When Sleep-Talking
My lovely, beautiful, and perfect girlfriend Jessica, sleep talks.
There is no rhymn or reason to what she says, or when she says it. It can be funny and ridiculous, or angry and ridiculous. Either way, it is always ridiculous.
The scariest part is that she can hold entire conversations, upright, eyes open, but asleep. These are especially frustrating because I assume that like most people walking around and talking to me with their eyes open, she is awake. Sometimes she isn't and it can get pretty confusing, especially when I am tying my tie for dinner and she "wakes up" from a nap asking when the other people are coming over to deliver the bikes. Here I thought she was in the other room doing her hair or something, and it turns out she is wandering around in a dream-like trance.
If I ask her questions, she answers, sometimes even intelligibly. But, if I tell her I think she is talking in her sleep, she gets enraged. I can understand if she gets mad after politely asking me to get her something to eat, I respond by saying "You must be asleep, because you're dreaming", but most of the time I'm right.
When officially awake, Jessica laughs at what she said, and apologizes.
I've only recently decided to start writing these conversations down, and the following are two recent conversations worth remembering...
Nov. 6th, 2010- Staying at a hotel downtown for Jessica's 24th Birthday, I rouse the passed-out-drunk Jessica long enough to convince her to brush her teeth. While she is in the bathroom brushing her teeth, I fill some water glasses in the other room.
There is no rhymn or reason to what she says, or when she says it. It can be funny and ridiculous, or angry and ridiculous. Either way, it is always ridiculous.
The scariest part is that she can hold entire conversations, upright, eyes open, but asleep. These are especially frustrating because I assume that like most people walking around and talking to me with their eyes open, she is awake. Sometimes she isn't and it can get pretty confusing, especially when I am tying my tie for dinner and she "wakes up" from a nap asking when the other people are coming over to deliver the bikes. Here I thought she was in the other room doing her hair or something, and it turns out she is wandering around in a dream-like trance.
If I ask her questions, she answers, sometimes even intelligibly. But, if I tell her I think she is talking in her sleep, she gets enraged. I can understand if she gets mad after politely asking me to get her something to eat, I respond by saying "You must be asleep, because you're dreaming", but most of the time I'm right.
When officially awake, Jessica laughs at what she said, and apologizes.
I've only recently decided to start writing these conversations down, and the following are two recent conversations worth remembering...
Nov. 6th, 2010- Staying at a hotel downtown for Jessica's 24th Birthday, I rouse the passed-out-drunk Jessica long enough to convince her to brush her teeth. While she is in the bathroom brushing her teeth, I fill some water glasses in the other room.
JESSICA
(Bursting out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, eyes squinted in rage) Are you pooing in my water glass?!
SAM
(Astonished, because he was doing no such thing, honestly)
Ummm, no. What are you talking about?
JESSICA
(Unconvinced, now with a full-on scowl)
I heard droplets!!!
SAM
(???)
---
JESSICA
It sounded like you were pooing in my water glass!
SAM
What are you talking about?
JESSICA
(Toothpaste all over her mouth, in a low, gutteral voice, eyes squinted more)
POOOOOOOO......
(Jessica disappears back into the bathroom. Sam is left in a state of utter bewilderment).
Nov. 20th, 2010- Jessica fell asleep while we were watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Sam tries to rouse her off the couch.
SAM
Jessica, do you wanna get up and brush your teeth?
(In hind-sight, the mention of tooth-brushing might be a trigger)
JESSICA
(Eyes closed, and not moving)
Yes, how can I do that with you on me?
SAM
(Not on her)
I'm not on you.
-
It's OK, we don't need to.
JESSICA
We just need someone to teach that class?
SAM
What class?
JESSICA
(Without the slightest bit of hesitation)
264 B.
SAM
Uhhhh, we just need you to be conscious.
JESSICA
I just want you to brush your teeth.
SAM
Jessica, I'm gonna carry you to bed if you don't wake-up.
JESSICA
It's peanuts or sex.
(At this point I carried her to her bed, then started writing this all down. She had one more thing to say though)
JESSICA
It's a good thing the boss isn't here until tomorrow.
(You said it)
I wish I had thought of using this as an excuse to say whatever the hell I wanted when "asleep", but this isn't the kind of thing you just start doing, especially if your significant other actually suffers from the affliction. So, I recommend you start doing this sort of thing early-on in a relationship. See for how long, and how ridiculous you can make it. I hope that Jessica confesses to me on our 50th anniversary that she was full of shit this entire time, and she knew EXACTLY what she was saying all along. All I would be able to say is: "Damn you're good."
11.19.2010
Friending the Dead
In my short time on earth, and even shorter time on the internet, I have seen more people pass away than I thought I would by now. The biggest difference between now, and ten years ago, is the liklihood that when I lose a friend now, it does not necessarily mean that I lose a facebook friend.
What happens to your facebook account when you die?
When an old friend of mine from childhood passed away in a motorcycle accident, his facebook page was bombarded with wall posts and even private messages. These wall posts were from friends and family, saying goodbye, or sharing a fond memory of the deceased. I found it interesting that his facebook page became even more relevant after he had passed away.
After somone holding a facebook account passes away, his account won't change unless action is taken by his friends or family, as facebook does not of yet delete accounts of the departed. If a close friend, or family member dies, you can report it at the following link, where his/her page will either become a memorial page, or be deleted, depending on your wishes. Hopefully you don't act alone in the decision making.
http://www.facebook.com/help/contact.php?show_form=deceased
A memorial page acts like a normal facebook page, but with important differences: You can no longer sign into it, contact information and status updates are removed, the profile is closed to anyone that was not the person's friend at the time of their death, their page cannot be found through searches, and you cannot accept a pending friend request from the person (Oh, noooow you wanna be friends?). The rest of the deceased's profile information is kept intact, along with their wall, and photos (Though I don't know if you can continue to tag them).
In a way, their facebook page becomes something of a cyber-grave, for you to visit. The advantage to this modern grave is that instead of standing outside, talking to a cold piece of rock, you can browse through old photos, leave public wall posts, or send private messages to the lost. It is a much more inviting, if less personal experience. Of course, these messages go unanswered, as they pile up in the inbox, but the thought that somehow your lost loved one is getting the message, is comforting.
Yes, you can report someone as being dead, even if they are not. So far, it doesn't look like there is much to be done about it should someone pull this morbid prank on you (cyber haunt them?).
As most facebook users are still relatively young, there are not as many of these memorial pages as there will be in the years to come. Should facebook survive as is for the next few decades, we will see a great deal of these phantom facebook pages. For the now, facebook has the money and the space to maintain a "no delete" policy regarding these pages, but this may not always be the case.
Facebook has grown to unimagined size since its creation in 2004, and holds an immense amount of importance to its 500 millions users. So much so in fact, that it seems almost necessary to include your facebook password, and instructions regarding your account, in your will: "Should I come to an untimely death, please sign into my account, remove the following 'friends', and change my status to- 'Bought the farm. I'll see ya when I see ya'- and change my relationship status to- 'its really fucking complicated'- thanks!" Certainly, noone could imagine facebook would become this important when it was created. Sure, you left instructions for your facebook account, but what should we do with your dog?
How many facebook phantoms are you friends with? Lets just hope they never send you an event invitation, especially to a "barbecue"...
What happens to your facebook account when you die?
When an old friend of mine from childhood passed away in a motorcycle accident, his facebook page was bombarded with wall posts and even private messages. These wall posts were from friends and family, saying goodbye, or sharing a fond memory of the deceased. I found it interesting that his facebook page became even more relevant after he had passed away.
After somone holding a facebook account passes away, his account won't change unless action is taken by his friends or family, as facebook does not of yet delete accounts of the departed. If a close friend, or family member dies, you can report it at the following link, where his/her page will either become a memorial page, or be deleted, depending on your wishes. Hopefully you don't act alone in the decision making.
http://www.facebook.com/help/contact.php?show_form=deceased
A memorial page acts like a normal facebook page, but with important differences: You can no longer sign into it, contact information and status updates are removed, the profile is closed to anyone that was not the person's friend at the time of their death, their page cannot be found through searches, and you cannot accept a pending friend request from the person (Oh, noooow you wanna be friends?). The rest of the deceased's profile information is kept intact, along with their wall, and photos (Though I don't know if you can continue to tag them).
In a way, their facebook page becomes something of a cyber-grave, for you to visit. The advantage to this modern grave is that instead of standing outside, talking to a cold piece of rock, you can browse through old photos, leave public wall posts, or send private messages to the lost. It is a much more inviting, if less personal experience. Of course, these messages go unanswered, as they pile up in the inbox, but the thought that somehow your lost loved one is getting the message, is comforting.
Yes, you can report someone as being dead, even if they are not. So far, it doesn't look like there is much to be done about it should someone pull this morbid prank on you (cyber haunt them?).
As most facebook users are still relatively young, there are not as many of these memorial pages as there will be in the years to come. Should facebook survive as is for the next few decades, we will see a great deal of these phantom facebook pages. For the now, facebook has the money and the space to maintain a "no delete" policy regarding these pages, but this may not always be the case.
Facebook has grown to unimagined size since its creation in 2004, and holds an immense amount of importance to its 500 millions users. So much so in fact, that it seems almost necessary to include your facebook password, and instructions regarding your account, in your will: "Should I come to an untimely death, please sign into my account, remove the following 'friends', and change my status to- 'Bought the farm. I'll see ya when I see ya'- and change my relationship status to- 'its really fucking complicated'- thanks!" Certainly, noone could imagine facebook would become this important when it was created. Sure, you left instructions for your facebook account, but what should we do with your dog?
How many facebook phantoms are you friends with? Lets just hope they never send you an event invitation, especially to a "barbecue"...
11.12.2010
Horoscope I
Aries- Today you will eat 3 meals, not including Taco Bell's delicious Fourth Meal.
Taurus- Drink all day, then make that important decision you've been putting off for so long.
Gemini- You're right, it's the only way...
Cancer- I know what she said, but she wasn't on birth control...
Leo- You'll run into an old friend from your past. Maybe the friend you ratted on that spent the last twelve years carving your name into his flesh with a sharpened toothbrush. Maybe he made parole, and knows where you live. Maybe, just maybe...
Virgo- Have you gained weight?
Libra-Today, take the world by the horns, and be all that you ever wanted to be. No more excuses. Beethoven was deaf when he wrote the 9th symphany. Right?
Scorpio-Your son is stealing your cigarettes. No, the younger one.
Sagittarius- Stop thinking about and do it. Those photos can make you a lot of money on the internet. Besides, she was always a bitch anyway.
Capricorn- You shouldn't put that in your mouth, not for a second.
Aquarius-Today is a good day to put that dog down.
Picses- "Today seems like a good day, to burn a bridge or two..."
Taurus- Drink all day, then make that important decision you've been putting off for so long.
Gemini- You're right, it's the only way...
Cancer- I know what she said, but she wasn't on birth control...
Leo- You'll run into an old friend from your past. Maybe the friend you ratted on that spent the last twelve years carving your name into his flesh with a sharpened toothbrush. Maybe he made parole, and knows where you live. Maybe, just maybe...
Virgo- Have you gained weight?
Libra-Today, take the world by the horns, and be all that you ever wanted to be. No more excuses. Beethoven was deaf when he wrote the 9th symphany. Right?
Scorpio-Your son is stealing your cigarettes. No, the younger one.
Sagittarius- Stop thinking about and do it. Those photos can make you a lot of money on the internet. Besides, she was always a bitch anyway.
Capricorn- You shouldn't put that in your mouth, not for a second.
Aquarius-Today is a good day to put that dog down.
Picses- "Today seems like a good day, to burn a bridge or two..."
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