Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Little Bear has new shoes

Okay, I'm seriously done with the casino. Not only did Little Bear get a new pair of shoes out of this trip, they were probably some nice dunks. After the year's over, the whole family will probably be sporting Nikes... no joke.

The worst thing is that despite my massive (well, massive in my eyes) losings, I still wasn't the biggest loser. Thus our biggest winner buys biggest loser the aftermeal rule didn't even apply to me this time. I was just in the hole, without even a Super Sergio's burrito to show for it.

And I'm honestly the best person at making myself feel better about anything. Someone should hire me to sit next to people who are losing money. These are my two theories of this particular trip to Barona:
  1. I do get like, anywhere from $500 and up for Chinese New Year. It's like having an annual gambling fund...
  2. As I was telling Christina at the poker table, all of this cash that's going down the drain is just God's way of being fair because in 10 years, I'm going to marry a ridiculously rich man and have so much money I won't know what to do with myself.

The guy playing next to John pointed to his chips and was like, "So I guess we aren't getting married anytime soon, huh?"

. . .

No, you fuckin' creepo. We're not. Especially not with that weird sunburny thing you have going on there.

But as always, you gotta look on the bright side of things. At least I'm spicing up my repertoire. Normally only black men hit on me.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

just one more long island iced tea...

Among other things, I passed out on the lawn at the border and lost my shoes in Tijuana.

Mexico is shady. So so shady.

Friday, May 25, 2007

I'm feeling lucky?

My fortune cookie read: "A FINANCIAL INVESTMENT WILL YIELD RETURNS BEYOND YOUR HOPES."

So naturally, I was feeling pretty good about myself on the drive to the casino. Too bad I lost $25 at the blackjack table. Then another $25. Then another $20. Oooooh how money just slips out of my hands. But I mean, at least I'm losing money at an Indian reservation and not Vegas, right? We decided that our gambling policy would mean the biggest winner buys the biggest loser breakfast. So at least I got a plate of Denny's best greasy goodness out of it all. Consolation prizes are the best. Anyway, I just tell myself that I'm contributing to the lives of Indian children. I mean, for having his ancestors be oppressed for thousands of years, it's the least I could do to help fund Little Bear's education. Or buy Running Wolf a birthday present, yeah?

I signed up for classes yesterday. Except I must have dropped and re-enrolled for classes at least six times between then and now. I am hardly capable of deciding between carrot and cappuccino cake at the cafeteria. Why anyone would let me decide what to do with my life is beyond me. Anyway, as of 2:59 AM I'm destined to be a Communications/Chinese Studies double major with a minor in Music.

I keep having to resist signing up for a Latin language class, for which I have absolutely zero interest in and no use for. However, I seriously contemplate it on a half-hourly basis, seeing as I am more or less in love with Professor Charles Chamberlain, Greek God. If only all professors were as wonderful/brilliant/humble/charming/wise. But alas. We can't have everything.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

I am a monk.

I am officially out of meal points. The time has come to begin the ascetic life. From today on... I will deny all bodily pleasures. (MMW humor, I'm so funny.) Thus begins the "I-don't-have-meal-points" diet. This entails starving myself until my stomach feels like it's eating itself, and then standing around the cafeteria like a beggar until someone offers to swipe me. My mother will be delighted if I drop 5 pounds and will wonder why she ever bought me a meal plan in the first place. Honestly, who needs South Beach?

We picked our apartments today. The ones I wanted with balconies were all gone within the hour. I'm upset because my apartment has separated sinks (meaning no huge mirror for us to get ready in front of). The kitchen kind of small and awkwardly shaped. And worst of all, the building is named "Middle East." If I had to get a building I didn't want, at least I could have something cute like "Oceania," which sounds like a picturesque setting with seashells and Lisa Frank style multicolored dolphins. My future home is just a potential nuclear war zone.

... and now I'm going to take a nap to block all thought of food out of my mind.