Gamblers Not So Anonymous

Well I hardly post to this blog, and here I was, about to write about how the cool thing about New York City, after all the car horns, ambulances, super overpriced bodegas, etc. is that on any given night, you could end up anywhere... when I see my own wife calling me out on a blog.

Are you cereal? Time for some pwnage. Your entire post, Mrs. Blogtari, is what a 7 year old would call a "dumb poo poo head." It is completely skewed to make me look like a D-Bag, and you to be the awesome, forgiving woman married to aforementioned D-Bag. Your interpretation and/or retelling of the story is completely wrong, and I refuse to retract my statement about you being super annoying.

Where to start? First of all, whether or not I take gambling seriously has no bearing on my tolerance for super annoying behavior. When Frank Sinatra (when not D'Brickashawing all over the dollhouse at his speakeasy in AC) sings about "Luck Be a Lady Tonight", he refers to women at the craps table who are cheering on the shooter, blowing on dice, smoking cigarettes out of those Hunter Thompson/Breakfast at Tiff's long cigarette smoking things. He is NOT singing about: weebils singing annoying songs set to the nursery rhymes in "Nightmare on Elm Street." You were not watching the game in any way, but kinda dancing around the Wild Wild West (not a venue that Ole Blue Eyes had in mind during his heyday -- notice how all Rat Pack posters are in or in front of the Sands or the Caesar's, not Whiskey Pete's or Wild Wild Artemis Clyde Frog Big Metal Spider West) like a choder. You weren't even watching the game, or else you would have known that 5 was the point.

You also seem to take refuge in the fact that you were with your girlfriends. Actually, not a single one of them was annoying in the least. Only you, m'lady.

Drinking and gambling go hand in hand, so I don't think any gambler out there really expects that their gambling can only occur if only sober people are around. There's just no need to be a choder is all I'm saying. I enjoy drinking and gambling, usually have fun. But fun = things like your blackjack cohort yelling "El Busta-mon-te!!!" to the dealer when he busts, or making the Rajeesh Patel-esque broseph next to you feel awkward by reminding him of his inability to summon the testicular fortitude to double down on the soft 18. But "1-2, sneeze achew; 3-4 lock the door; 5-6 pick up sticks" is not awesome at all.

In fact, casino etiquette is very easy. Here are the rules:
1. Hitting on vs. staying on the 16 in Blackjack is not buying a car. Shit or get off the pot.
2. Always back up the pass line with odds.
3. Always bet on black, and when you lose your money (cause red rules), blame a crappy mid-90's movie whose star is in federal pound-Blade-in-the-ass prison cause its star "bet on black" vs. the IRS.
4. Always tip the cocktail waitress at least a dollar per drink.
5. Never order a drink with dairy in it.
6. Always be nice to the dealer, even when they are taking your money.
7. Make sure the dice reach the other end of the table when shooting craps.

Those are the rules. Here is Melissa's verison of Casino Etiquette:
1. Always complain that Blackjack involves (2nd grade) math.
2. Awkwardly throw the dice into the dealer's stack of chips, inevitably crapping out.
3. Always sing novelty songs while your husband is trying to throw the dice.

Oh, and I actually lost money with you doing that stuff. I was actually looking forward to crapping out. It was totally worf the 40 bucks to not hear anymore of that song.