SeeingEyeBlog

I am now convinced that the last dealer ever to deal me a card was named Brad. It’s not that I don’t like playing cards or the excitement of winning big money. It’s how utterly pissed off I get when I lose any amount of money, whether it’s mine or not. Tonight my mom was winning in blackjack and gave me $100 in chips and insisted that I sit down and play. I had been standing and watching, having a very good time being the good luck charm. (Everyone with me won at least $400)

Brad, the dealer, swept in my $100 in chips inside of 5 minutes, and I was betting and playing the right way. I won three hands and lost thirteen. Since this money was gravy from my mom’s winnings, it was essentially play money that I was betting. I should care less if Brad the dealer takes it all. It’s not even my money. What I don’t understand is how my blood pressure and pulse skyrocketed after I got up from the table.

I tried to mask my contept for the entire idea behind casinos. I’m too talented and intelligent to believe I’ll ever get something for nothing, or that the odds ever change in games of chance. I might be old-fashioned, but I prefer to receive either a good or a service for my money, and I know that the services I provide will eventually be worth over $100/hr, which will make me a millionaire, before I’m thirty if I made the odds. The casino certainly wasn’t doing me a service by making me share my personal space with the dregs of humanity who walk around with walkers and/or rolling oxygen tanks, who are slowly embalming themselves with the tar and formaldehyde in their cigarettes, and giving me a sore throat with their second hand smoke. Get the hell away from me you bunch of losers.

Unable to mask my contempt, I took a walk to find a bathroom, thinking it would render upon me some kind of peace. All I found were more angry thoughts and bitter memories, all surfacing at the same time with an overwhelming ferocity to them. Random, disparate, dismal memories from all phases of my life, all being forced on my psyche by some force wishing me ill. And again, all I had done was lose $100 of what was essentially play money.