A Day In The Life...

Is there a full moon? Or did everyone just tap into the crazy water lately?
The most bizarre things keep happening.

Yesterday, at work, it seemed like all the poker players had forgotten to take their ritalin. Just a bunch of out of control children. I was trying to keep them together, but it's easier said then done. Then, near the end of the night, I walked back to the no-limit table. There is one player that always comes in, a really nice guy, and always brings me candy. I will not mention names, since he seems to be embarrassed. Even though no one knows who he is anyways. So, he called me back there and as I was walking, I must have put my head down for a second. Looked back up and he was gone. Now, he's not a little guy. He couldn't have moved that fast. Upon closer inspection, I saw his feet. Dangling over the table. Dumbass had rocked so far back in his chair that he was now laying on the ground, with the chair still underneath him, legs in the air and all. Definetly the funniest thing I've seen around there.

So, the point is is that I walked back there and stood at the game for a bit (mostly to contain my laughter before moving on through the room). The table was down to about 6 people, and they were doing the usual bickering about the last hand, when this caldian gentleman said to the black gentleman "It's cool my Nigger". Everything stopped at this point. OH NO HE DIDN'T! I mean, what people say is thier business. I don't prefer to say that word. I even have problems typing it. But it crosses my lines when it's in my workplace, there is a black dealer at the table, and other black patrons around. Well, needless to say, the african-american player didn't appreciate it either. He jumped out of his seat so fast. And of course, I'm the only back there to deal with this. All of the sudden he's yelling at the caldian guy "What the fuck did you call me? You're not my friend. You don't know me." Blah blah blah. I do have to give him credit for not retaliating like he could have. So, I told him to quiet down and told the caldian guy, who had no clue he said something wrong (right right...) that what he said was abolutely and completely inappropriate. He just didn't get it. I made him apologize. And he did, reluctantly. And proceded to explain to him that even if the other man was not offended, I won't put up with the N word, F-bombs, and other things because it offends me or other patrons. He responds with "I wasn't talking to you." Which I came back with "You're in my poker room. Anything you say or do has something to do with me. Deal with it." Which was immediately followed by him being walked out with security and permanently 86'd. Nice. Turns out a month earlier he threatened to follow an employee to the parking lot and kill them. Beautiful.

Then on the way home I got the strangest text message. I dated this guy a little over two years ago. We used to be pretty close, but don't really talk anymore except the usual banter at work. Anyways, got a message on my way home that just said "Everyone says I really loved you." What? Where the hell did that come from? Well, turns out that his current girlfriend said that everyone said he really loved me. Now, I don't know the context of this statement. Dave and I were trying to figure it out. Plus why he told me this. He has been with this girl for some time now. And I have not been with him for over 2 years. Why am I being brought up by her? Were they arguing? Dave had a good point. She was probably just asking the wrong questions to either him or someone else and got an answer she didn't want. Ugh. That's why I don't prefer to talk about ex's. Damn. I know all about Dave's, but never bothered to really go into mine. If he ever wants to know, he can ask.

So, checking my myspace. Nothing too exciting. Then I refreshed the page and noticed I had a new message. It was from someone that I didn't know. On myspace it is not uncommon for crazy mass messages from people asking if their hot or not and shit like that. It really is sad that people need validation through myspace. Christ, is anyone on there to really impress anyone anyways? So the point is this message said, and I quote, "I WANNA FUCK YOU" What the hell? So I clicked on the profile. It is a 17 year old from Southfield who apparently just migrated here from Nepal. It's actually slightly amusing. On his survey thing, for current location, he actually put his address. And the Kelly Clarkson video was a nice touch. Heh.. "Do you shower daily? Noooooooo" That's attractive. So I send him a message back saying "Gee, thanks. I'm flattered." Which got the best response ever. In all caps I might add. "ARE YA A VIRGIN OR WHAT WHATS YOUR AGE I AM A VIRGIN SO I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH SOMEBODY WITH CONDOM" hahahahahhaha!!!!!!! Does this really work on people? Am I supposed to be turned on? HA! I can't stop laughing long enough to get wet.
So I wrote back that I was a bit old for him and thanks but no thanks. Just got another response. Apparently he's done yelling at me, cause he stopped with the caps lock. "i don't care about the age i just dont wanna be a virgin are you with me" Poor pathetic sap. And maybe I was a bit harsh, but this guy was slightly creeping me out. My response " Nope. Sorry. You're on your own. I don't go for guys that have to pick up women on myspace, begging for them to take his virginity. Sorry, desperation is not on my list of traits I'm looking for. I wish you the best of luck" And I really do. I hope he can round up one of those myspace whore train hotties or something. And they can rock his world. Good luck Aashish.

I am officially convinced that my purpose in life is to amuse others.

Went to Dave's last night after work. He had been out at the bar with some friends, and was a bit inebriated. No big deal. I knew his family was coming over around 1 or so today for Bunny Day festivities, so I told him I was gonna get up and leave around noon. I had met his aunt before and briefly his dad, but not the rest. Anyways, around 1130am, we heard someone come in. His aunt had arrived early to start dinner. No big deal. She let us sleep. Anyways, woke up around 1245. Shit. I got up and started to dress... or at least put a bra on. When Dave's phone rang. It was his brother. I was semi-ecstatic cause no one was there yet. Turns out he was calling to say they were at the door and Aunt Sharon wasn't there to open it for them. I couldn't believe it. I was stuck. It was inevitable that this was how I was going to meet his family. Purple pajama pants, a tank top, bedhead, and morning breath. I threw on one of his sweatshirts, and, after much coaxing, figured the sooner I got out there, the sooner I could leave. Right before we walked out, Dave's mom called, so he was on the phone with her. We went out there and there they were. Sitting on the couch. His brother and wife (who Dave dispises), dad, and another aunt. The one person I did know wasn't even there. Dave semi-introduced me. I apologized for just waking up. Not one person said hello, introduced themselves, let alone looked at me. I stood there for a moment. Just frozen. Finally, after pure mortification, I turned around, went to Dave in the kitchen, gave him a kiss, and ran out the back door. Got to my car and cried.

I know the crying sounds ridiculous, but my family met Dave and welcomed him with open arms. They love him. He was greeted, fed, joked around with them, everything was great. I meet his, and they won't even say hello to me. It's not his fault by any means. I just wish I could talk to him and see if there's a reason. I'm sure they had some comments about me after that one. Ugh. And this story is amusing, and I'm sure I will find it absolutely hilarious in a couple of hours. Please tell me y'all have bad meeting the family stories too...

This was just the topper for a crazy week anyways. Parents were in Las Vegas all week. Everything went perfectly fine for the whole time til the last day. I went in the laundry room, and the light was burnt out. It was about 330am. I had to pick up the parents at 6am. Dave offered to change the lightbulb. Probably to stop my bitching, but either way, it was getting changed. He climbed halfway up the dryer, steadying himself on the cabinets hanging above, when, all of the sudden, the four large cabinets hanging above came crashing down. Somehow I escaped injury except some scrapes and bruises, and one landed on Dave's foot. It was insane. So, needless to say, we spent the morning doing construction.

Got to the airport and the plane was an hour late. Then a car accident on the way home. I do believe I need to invest in a plastic bubble.

One last thing. Just wanted to say sorry to Sarah and her family about her Grandpa. I was practically raised with the man as my psuedo-Grandpa. He was a wonderful man. And I'm sorry I couldn't go to the cemetary. That's always the hardest part for me, at least. Plus I hadn't slept yet. No excuses. I'm sorry.

Yesterday, I worked, and Dave was there playing poker. It actually works out pretty good. I'll leave around 4, and usually so will he. Then we'll just meet back at his house. My schedule is very hard to date on, but this works pretty good. Until now. He had seperated his shoulder about 2 weeks ago, so he's been out of work. He goes back Monday. 8am. Yeah, that doesn't work so well. Plus he's got his kid all weekend. So, yeah, I'm not cruising over there after work. Anyways, the point is, Thursday after work, he kept playing. Around 6am, he called to say he was done and we decided that, since I wouldn't see him for a while, I'd come over. I never realized how bright it is at 630am. Ugh. And traffic. What the hell?

So, everyone knows I'm paranoid, coupled with a large variety of irrational fears. Such as drinking out of cans, the dark, microwaves, Patrick Swayze, and smoking in my car. Okay, not necessarily the act of smoking, more like ashing. Yes, I'm that girl that sticks my hand all the way out the window to flick the butt. I will not drop it at a red light or anywhere my car is stopped cause I don't want it to roll under my car, find some sort of leak and blow up. When I am on the freeway, and I flick out the window, I roll it up super quick, just in case it flew out mine in into the guy behind me's window. And if I don't see the butt fly, I'll sit there with the windows up, and turn the radio off (cause you know your nose works better, and you can find addresses easier when the radio's off), and just sniff, to see if something burning in my car. Yes, that's me. The crazy girl.

Well, I'm not that irrational. While driving to Dave's, I decided to get the last cigarette in before bed. Everything is going fine, I flick the ashes, to where they all fall off. I'm reaching for my lighter, and notice smoke. My back seat is on fire. The ashes had flown back into the window, into my back seat and set my pillow on fire. It smelled awful! My car was filled with smoke. I was almost at Dave's, so I waited till I got in the driveway and poured Mountain Dew all over it. So, now, my car smells like a campfire sprinkled with Mountain Dewey goodness. The whole night I kept waking up, convinced my car was burnt to a crisp.

See, my paranoia is not completely unjustified...

Tagged from Chud.



Favorite Artist meme:
Choose a band or artist; and answer a bunch of questions using only titles of their songs.

I'm going to try Radiohead.


1. Are you male or female? Cinamon Girl (Do covers count? If not, then...) Paranoid Android or Kid A

2. Describe yourself: Optimistic

3. How do some people feel about you: I Might Be Wrong or Big Ideas (don't get any)

4. How do you feel about yourself: BulletProof...I Wish I Was

5. Describe your ex boyfriend / girlfriend: High And Dry

6. Describe your current significant other: Everything In It's Right Place

7. Describe where you want to be: How To Disappear Completely And Never Be Found

8. Describe how you live: Karma Police or Like Spinning Plates

9. Describe how you love: True Love Waits

10. What would you ask for if you had just one wish: Fitter Happier

11. Share a few words of wisdom: Anyone Can Play Guitar

12. Now say goodbye: Street Spirit (Fade Out...)


I suppose I should tag someone... Hmm...

Ron
Prince
Mikey
Shana

Hey there! We are back from Chicago. It was so nice to get away! Granted, the trip was quite a roller coaster ride itself. But at least it wasn't the same old bull shit. So, what happened, you may ask. Hmm.. I suppose it's best to start from the beginning.

I drove out by myself on Sunday. It was awesome! Just put on some music, and cruised on down the road. Talked to my mom around the half way point, and talked to Ron for a good half hour or so. Other than that, solitude. It was a beautiful ride. Got to Chicago around nine or so. Shana and I sat around, ate some snacks, and headed out to the bar. Christina's. A friend of mine at work's daughter works here, so we thought we'd go visit. Turns out we weren't working that night, but Joe was working. We had met him on New Years. Really nice guy. He took excellent care of us (and even asked where my halo was...). Anyways, it's a four o'clock bar, so we left around four just completely wasted. Went back to the apartment and suffered greatly after searching for about an hour for a 24 hour restaurant.

Monday, we went downtown. Went to H&M, Borders, ate dinner at the weirdest food court, then picked Dave up from the train station. Now, you would think that the train station wouldn't be that hard to find, but it was ridiculous. We ended up getting there an hour early, due to the fact that apparently I can't tell time when it's an hour behind. I seem to have a lot of trouble telling time. I think I may have a problem. Anyways, we went into the station. It was late, not many people there. But the ones that were, were fucking bizarre. It's like they take the weirdos past a certain time and send them all to the train station. The place itself was pretty much abandoned and made weird noises. Needless to say, we grabbed Dave and got out of there. Of course, heading to the bar.

Chicago is really weird about their parking. There's tow zones, there's metered parking, there's snow zones, yellow curbs. Anything and everything to make it difficult. We went to Nick's Beergarten... one of our favorite four o'clocks. They have an enclosed patio in the back, where we often go after the other bars close. They almost know us there. Anyways, we were leaving, after a night of dealing with the horniest group of people I've encountered (seriously, it must have been horny night there... everyone was on spanish fly or something). Shana, Dave and myself go out front, just to see a tow truck driving away with my car. And we watched it go on by. It was so sad. Then two guys come up to Shana and I, ask if that's our car. Yes, whatever. The one guy turns to the other and asks him if he's got booze at his house, yes, whatever. Then they turn back to us and say "You can come over and use our phone if you want..." *wink wink nudge nudge* Are you fucking serious?!?! These people are relentless.

Took a cab back to Meg's. Made some phone calls to the cops, Shana's dad, my mom, the cops again, the impound yard. (May I add, in this apartment, to make a phone call, you must go in the corner and press your head against the window to get a signal.) In a last stitch effort, Shana called the police department in the worst sobby/drunken voice and pleaded to no sympathy. Fucking corrupt Chicago cops. Who makes an area surrounding a four o'clock bar a tow zone after three o'clock? Anyways, there was nothing more to do but binge eat at this point. Spinach dip is always a great binge eating food.

Funny thing about eating in this apartment. The microwave only works in 15 second intervals. If you keep putting in 15 seconds, over and over again, it's fine. Just tedious. Otherwise, if you plug in 2 minutes or something, the microwave will shut off in 15 seconds and you have to reset the power strip. So, I put in the spinach dip, set the microwave, and it actually went for 45 seconds. I thought our luck was looking up. There must be some sort of mercy to at least let us eat after such horrible events. Then it happened. Dreams were squashed. Hope was gone. The lights went out. Fucking fuse blew. No lights anywhere but the one lamp in the family room. No tv, no space heater in the freezing bedroom where Dave and I were sleeping. Nothing. Only one lamp, the refrigerator and the stove (at least the fridge worked.). Unbelievable. So, of course, we went looking for the fuse box. And after much searching, concluded it must be in the padlocked door across the hall, which the key was no where to be found. Even Megan, whose apartment it was, who was in New York, wasn't answering her phone. So, now, I had no car, and we all had no power, and Dave and I had no heat to sleep in. Did I mention I had forgotten to bring a blanket with me? So we had about 4 really thin fleece blankets. That was some of the worst sleep I've ever gotten.

The next morning, my phone rang. It was Megan, revealing the location of the missing key. Shana and I found it, in it's obvious hiding spot, and went into the scary room. I call it the scary room cause it's straight out of a horror flick. No lights, rotting floorboards with big gaps so you can barely see the dead bodies hidden underneath. We got the fuses back on, relocked the door and everything was good again. So, our third day in Chicago was spent at the impound yard. And was a very expensive day. Almost $200 worth.

After getting my car, which is a whole different story, Dave and I went to eat, and Shana went to pick up Meg and Josh from the airport. It was a good dinner. We got to spend some time together and just hang out on $ .25 beer night. Went back and got Shana and went back to Christina's.

Wednesday, we took Dave to Hot Doug's (The Sausage Superstore) and Margie's Candies (best ice cream ever!) and back to the train station. We got lost again, I had a bit of road rage, dropped him off 15 minutes before his train was leaving. We went shopping. Then spent the evening with Meg, drinking and watching movies. Thursday, came home.

Edit... I forgot to mention the ride home. I stopped at a rest stop. Now anyone that knows me knows my fear of public bathrooms. I don't like them. Period. It was dark, but I just couldn't hold it anymore. I had just entered Michigan, so I had quite a ways to go and the next rest stop wasn't for about 34 miles. I was messaging Dave at the time, and told him I was stopping and if he didn't hear from me in 10 minutes, to be worried. Anyways, there were absolutely no lights in the parking lot and two empty cars parked. Kinda creepy. I went in, with my keys clutched, and walked into stink. Every toilet was absolutely disgusting. Pee pee and stuff everywhere. I peed, went to wash my hands. There were three sinks. Walked up to the first one to find some sort of blood like substance in the sink. I'm not going to say it was blood, since I did not stay long enough to investigate. I moved on to the next where there was hair. And it was not from someone's head. Finally, washed my hands in the third, ran to the car, and used about 10 wet naps. Called Dave to tell him I was okay, and got the speech about not stopping at rest stops. Okay, he's right.

Now it's back to reality. Missed everyone. Thanks Ron and Melissa and Shawn for the hellos and good wishes. Melissa and Ron, sorry for not messaging back. I got the whole "Hope your trip is going well" and "I miss you guys! Hope you're having fun" On my way to and from the impound yard. Kinda made me chuckle.
Anyways, glad to be home. But not really.

What's up strangers? Sorry it's been a while. Not much has been happening/I haven't really been around. Whatever the case might be, I figured I should write something.

St Patty's Day just came and went. Always a good time. I had the pure intentions of going out til about 6pm, then going home, changing, and heading to work. I have never, in my life, worked on St Patty's Day. Got to the bar, and was actually quite content drinking 7-up. But then Melisssa just kept on in my ear "One beer won't hurt ya" "You know you want to." Yes, it got me. Peer pressure. I became useless against it's charms. So, one beer. It was all downhill from there. Called into work. Mike, Shana and I ended up getting a phone call from our friend Kevin, who is good buddies with a guy that owns a bar in Taylor. So, we ended up out there. Didn't really hear from anyone else that night, so I just figured everyone had their own thing to do. Anyways, we were having enough trouble finding our own plans, really wouldn't be fair to wrap anyone else into them. So we end up at this bar (which is conveniently 2 blocks from Mike's house). It was fucking packed! When I glanced to the side and noticed an empty booth. We took the three way attack and scored some prime seating. Nice. Ran into a co-worker. Ended up with a $180 bar tab between the three of us. Took about 5 or 6 of this shot that the owner makes with everclear. Can't beat that. Overall, a decent night.

Leaving for Chicago in an hour or so. Shana left yesterday. We are house sitting for her sister while she's in New York. Pretty excited. It was time for a vacation. Was getting a bit burnt out around here. I'm actually really looking forward to the drive. 5 hours in a car by myself. Can't get much better than that. I think the way home won't be as pleasurable, but we'll see. So, five days in Chicago. We made it a point to invite many people to come with us, but guess no one wants to get away for a bit. Oh well, their loss. Not too often you have a free place to stay in Chicago. Train tickets are cheap as hell. Meh. Anyways, I suppose I should finish packing. I'll be hitting the road around 3 or so. If anyone feels like talking, I'm sure I'll have the time. Just give me a call.

I'll see y'all next week. Miss you!

For anyone that doesn’t know myspace, you have a bunch of friends that you add onto your list and such, and you can send messages and post comments. And there are these things called bulletins. Kind of like a board type thing you can just post a bulletin and everyone on your friends list gets it.

Last night I get home and I was checking out the bulletins. My friend Jay had posted one about a “crush calculator.” Whatever. I fuck around with some of these things. Not that my real age compared with my “virtual”age makes a difference. Or “what city I am” will change my life. Or my personal favorite… my “personal slogan” (Nobody Does It Like Laura). Oh, I could go on and on. Anyways, so this crush calculator, you put your name in, followed by three names of your crushes. Then, in some amazing mathematical geniusry, it tells you whether you are compatable. Absolutely amazing. Of course, I want this phenomenal website to tell me. Am I compatable? Cause I can never tell. So I plug in a name. Dave. No big deal. I think it’s pretty safe to put someone in that you’re kinda seeing anyways. I pressed the calculate button. Then a screen pops up… “Oops, you’ve been fooled! Everything you typed on the last page has been sent to ” Ha! I found this fucking hilarious. Of course I sent a message to Jay telling him how funny I thought it was, and decided to repost this bulletin myself. My friends seem to have a pretty good sense of humor.

Anyways, woke up this morning and checked my e-mail. There was about 25 messages from this thing! Some of the responses were so funny… I will not mention any names, but of course I get the messages on myspace in the process about how it was just the first three people that popped into someone’s head, or just made up a name, or whatever. I have to laugh. One person even sent me something saying how they just typed the first person they could think of. Hopefully I don’t really get this sent to me, he didn’t mean it, blah blah blah, that was so wrong… then reposts the damn thing himself! Anyone who sent me a message about it, got some sort of reply saying have a sense of humor. My friend Novak brought up a good point. They are just afraid of having their crushes revealed. Oh god. It’s the end of the damn world. Anyways, do you really think the crush calculator works? I think, tomorrow, I’m going to go make a billboard with the results on it. Hee hee..

Anyways, I wanted to post a couple of the results… I was laughing my ass off.

Friend name: Michael Wayne
Crush #1: Eggs
Crush #2: Sausage
Crush #3: Hashbrowns

Friend name: Be Careful
Crush #1: Knowing Too
Crush #2: Much Could
Crush #3: Be Dangerous

Friend name:
Crush #1: Kermit the Frog
Crush #2: not entered
Crush #3: not entered

Friend name: Thom Yorke
Crush #1: Laura Devore
Crush #2: not entered
Crush #3: not entered
(for anyone that doesn’t know, Thom Yorke is the singer for Radiohead. I knew he loved me!!!!!!!)


Friend name: Jesus Christ
Crush #1: Laura Devore
Crush #2: not entered
Crush #3: not entered
(Proof: Jesus loves me. Yes he does. And even he relies on the crush calculator for accurate results.)

Friend name: Laura Devore
Crush #1: poop
Crush #2: orange juice
Crush #3: not entered


Heh.. I’m still laughing. Thanks, Jay, for making my day a little more amusing. And for those of you that are offended, or worried, get over it. If you really do have a crush on these people, it does no good if you keep it in anyways. Secret crushes tend not to go anywhere. You have to tell that person! Your secret is safe with me.

// posted by Laura Beth @ 4:48:00 PM 2 comments

What an uneventful week. Other than my friend Kyle leaving for Arizona yesterday, nothing has happened. Ugh. Where's the excitement? At least there's only 8 more working days til vacation.

They announced promotions at work this week. Granted, I just heard today, since I haven't been there in two days. Yeah, not me. They promoted three dual-rates to full floor. I knew I wasn't going to get it, but there's always that slight hope. Of the three that did get it, I do believe two of them truly deserved it. The third, not so much, but I guess when you're in the position for so long, there's an obligation of sorts to promote. Not that I agree with that, but I can accept that. I'm not real sure why I'm disappointed in this. I mean, it's only been about a year. Maybe it's because I know the scores I got in the ratings (the pit managers have to rate us on our job performance) and I know I had a very high rating. Oh well, there's always next time. Congrats to those who did get it. I'll just keep up my standard of work, and hopefully they will recognize my efforts.

Well, off to the couch. New medicine I got makes me feel weird. Hot chocolate and useless television. A no fail cure-all.

All right, I suppose the last post needs some sort of explanation.

No, I did not get beat up.
No, I did not fall down stairs.
And no, it was not self-induced.

So, to clear that up, if you've kept up on the events of the past week, I had to go to the doctor on Monday. He wanted to check my sugar and such, no big deal. I made sure not to eat or drink anything before going, so that I would not have to go back again for a fasting blood test. I thought it was a smart move, since my doctor is about 45 minutes away. So, him and I talk a bit, he wrote me a script for more xanax. Then calls for blood work.

I have pretty good veins, from what I've heard. So, the girl pokes the left arm. I can feel her poke it like three times, then i feel the needle digging around. Anyone that has experienced this, knows. It's not a good feeling by any means. Finally, after the fourth attempt, I yelled at her to stop. I thought for sure I was passing out. I never have before, but I know I wasn't feeling right. She made me lay down and said she was gonna try the other arm. Fucking wonderful. Just what I wanted.

Anyways, after an attempt to puff up my vein in my right arm, she comes to the conclusion that I'm severly dehydrated. Ugh. What's new. I had to sit there and drink a huge cup of water for about twenty minutes. I didn't even get to put it down when she stabbed my right arm. Then did a sort of happy dance talking about how I'm flowing now and such.

So, there, that is why I'm covered in bruises. The insides of my elbows are blue and black, along with my biceps. And, somehow, in turn, my legs are bruised also. Maybe it's because of the heavy drinking that ensued after the massive blood loss.

Hope that clears things up.

Getting out of bed today was one of the hardest things I've ever done. And it's getting harder to not go back as the day goes on.

Muscle relaxors are a gift from god.

I need a drink.

I'm covered in bruises.

I really need to get out.

Where do I start?

Yesterday when I woke up, unlike Wednesday, I was excited. Some days I just get really anxious to go to work. I can't really explain any more than I just love my job. Especially when I'm in the poker room (which is 99% of the time). I know my shit. I know the players. I'm competant. Enough said there. Granted, I've never dealt the game, at the casino at least. But the majority of the floor people there have never dealt half the games they watch. I don't see too much of a problem in this. As long as you know preventative and problem solving procedures. Hell, I got promoted three days before poker class was ending. I was trained to be a dealer for six weeks and had to learn all the management stuff in two days and take the test. Got a perfect score on that fucker. Like I said, I know my shit. Plus it was a good thing I got promoted when I did. Had recently visited an orthopedic surgeon that informed me that if I kept dealing everyday, shoulder surgery would be necessary.

Every week we have a poker game at Mike's. Tournament style, usually about 20 people or so. The same people every week. There's something about bonding when you play poker at 5am. We are all pretty good friends. And there are those that have been playing since the beginning. Who seems to be really tight at times. Yes, there is a reason for mentioning this.

So I'm work last night in the poker room extension. Perfect place to be. On my own, for the most part. With three tables. I'm off minding my own business. Now, understand, I am in this room every single day. Never once had a complaint made against me. In the few instances where people have fought with me or anything, they have ended up apologizing to me. The guy that runs the room, Brian, adores me. Because I DO MY JOB! Not any other reason... just because I'm willing to work. So, anyways, I'm standing there and my Shift Manager, Glenn comes up to see me. He comes and visits every once in a while. He asked if I had a poker uniform. I said no. He told me to go get one. And if I was too nervous, I didn't have to deal tonight, he'd wait til tomorrow. (that's today). What the hell? Where did that come from? Not that I'm too good to deal, it's just out of nowhere. But fine. Okay.

Flash to a couple hours later. I'm on break with Brian. I make some joke about dealing and such. Ha ha ha. He just looked at me with the craziest look. And proceded to inform me of the real reason I was dealing. There is another dual-rate supervisor that, last week, when informed he had to deal, went to the shift manager to complain because I was in a suit. Granted, yes, I was scheduled to deal that day, but the night before was told to come in in a suit because another floor was not coming in. This person didn't even think to find this out, now my pit is being called in with a complaint of favoritism towards me.

Favoritism? What bullshit. If this asshole, who used to be a good friend of mine, would've figured out the whole story before going to people that he shouldn't have even gone to first (whatever happened to the chain of command?) then this might not have happened. Again, I'm not upset about dealing. I'm upset about how this has happened. I'm caught in the middle of something that I don't want to be in. Childish games. And Brian is pissed cause this is happening. So, in a weird way, we have banded together. He told me that he is defending me up and down and doing what he can to not have my name in his fueds. So, if this guy thought there was favoritism before? Nice, you just brought us closer, you dumb fuck.

I can't believe I'm still fired up about this. I just can't stand fake people. Don't act like my friend then make shit up. Ugh. Plus with my shoulder, there is no possible way I could get through a night of dealing. And it's my friend's going away party. Can't get out of work now, cause, as I was leaving last night, the shift manager mentioned about talking to me tonight. Thanks fucker.

This whole thing probably hasn't made that much sense, but the point is, I pride myself on not being involved in any sort of controversy around there. I mind my own business and do my job. And I do it well. I'm sorry that some people aren't happy with where they're at, or that a certain pit doesn't think they do that good of a job, but don't bring me into it. Now he has hurt the trust of more than one person. Poker should be fun this week.

(Perfect title on this one... hee hee. If you know the song, wow, I'm good.)