Headed back to Laughlin first thing this morning. Bet the Marlins +162 at the Riverside and also picked up the Astros at +172. Drove from there to Harrah's and bet the White Sox at +115. Played bj at the Pioneer even though I've been getting killed lately. Had a brutal session on the south strip last night. None of the hands were particularly memorable..had a max bet out and got 22 against a dealer's four. Split and got nine on the first one. Doubled and got a six. Ace on the second two, hit and got a ten. The dealer didnt bust. Next hand got dealt 11 vs. a dealers three. Had to reach into my wallet for the money to double down. Drew a ten, but then the dealer pulled a five card 21. Frustrating night all the way around, but I was relieved to see StevieY posting again.
I feel like the guy in Groundhog Day because each day in the last two weeks has been practically identical. Woke up in Laughlin and bet lots of bad teams at the best possible numbers.
Marlins +162
White Sox +149
Astros +195
Mariners +150
Thanks, I didn't realize anyone was paying attention. Wound up losing on non-posted picks yesterday as well as having a small losing day at blackjack.
I read over that post from Goats again and realized that most of what I'm doing is aggressive line shopping and not actual handicapping. Stuff like betting Cleveland +125 at the El Cortez when pinnacle has +111, even though I didnt think Cleveland would be able to hit Lester.
Those bets just haven't been coming in for me the last two weeks.
Headed back to Northern Nevada for another trip in the immediate future, and I'll try to engage in some drunken mayhem.
In Laughlin and leaving for the north tomorrow. I know this is a long shot, but if anyone from here is going to be in Elko county in the next week and wants to meet up, let me know.
Left Laughlin late last night. Followed the Angels/A's game most of the way on espn.com on the drive back. Stopped in Searchlight and had a ten cent cup of coffee at the Nugget there. Finally made it back to Jean just after midnight. I had enough comps for a night there, but I couldn't sleep and there was nothing on tv. Wound up getting five hours of sleep, but woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Filled up at the gas station for free and then headed out. Stopped at the South Point to cash tickets, stopped at the Lucky Club to bet the StevieY pick and one or two other bets. Headed north on 15, took it twenty miles past Vegas and took the exit for 93 north. I hadn't made this drive in a number of years, and I had forgotten just how boring it can be. The Great Basin offers a complete lack of scenery or towns, and radio reception is almost nonexistent. I don't have a cd player in my car, and my only tape is an old Van Morrison that's almost completely worn out.
Stopped in Pioche, a small mining town about a hundred miles from Vegas. I was told they might have good video poker, but all they had was two saloons with about a dozen machines each, and the paytables on both sets were complete garbage. Took a few cellphone camera pics of the town, and continued north. Got to Ely in time for a late lunch, stopped at the Hotel Nevada, but the table games weren't open. No good slots, but they do have a Bill Hill kiosk, so I stuff some hundreds in and make some bets. Continued on north, and five miles out of the town, all the buildings disappear, and there is only nothingness. Got to Wendover two hours later, and the town looks nothing like I remember it. I haven't been here for twelve years, but none of the memories I have of it are accurate. It's a long story why, the details of which probably aren't important. I had been living in northwest Wyoming with my first girlfriend, and we had a nasty breakup. Withdrew all my money from the bank and headed to the nearest source of gambling. single deck blackjack dealt almost all the way to the bottom in a town where enormous bet spreads are tolerated. I think I wound up staying a week, won about 800 and headed into Reno.
I had felt exhausted by the drive, so I checked into the Red Garter and got ready for sleep as soon as Mariners and under didn't come in. Watched Midnight Run on youtube, watched some old NFL primetime episodes, but knew I couldn't fall asleep anytime soon. Walked over to the Rainbow club, scouted games, but there was nothing playable, just a Peppermill clone with no free coffee machines anywhere in sight. I know no one here, and I don't think anyone from any of my old lives knows I'm here. I'm haunted by the memory of Renee, what she used to look like when I would wake up in the morning and the sunlight would be shining right on her even though the bedroom window was on the west side of the room. Whenever I do something I know she hates like driving the speed limit, I can hear her voice inside my head telling me what a disappointment I am to her. One day all this will come to an end, I keep telling myself, twelve years from now I'll come back here, and my memories of this trip will have long since disappeared into the far reaches of my mind, as will all memories of falling in love with someone just because we both loved South Park, and she was a 5'8" brunette with all the trimmings.
I'm addicted to the sweat, that feeling you get when you bet a dog at plus 130, and the game is tied at 2 at the end of the sixth inning, and you know the next hour is going to be agony. Games like the Angels/As two nights ago; I had Angels parlayed to the over, and wound up watching the entire extra session, sweating out every single pitch and out until it ended. The uncertainty of having no idea what will happen tomorrow. No one is waiting for me, no one is expecting to see me. I'll wake up in a hotel bed, get up and have the capability to go anywhere or do anything. I'll wind up in a sportsbook somewhere, betting picks from one of the very few people I follow online and whatever Peppermill throws up that's way off of pinnacle. Thinking of going to Elko and Jackpot in the next day or two, but have no idea which hotel I might stay at.
So it is really you Finch. And it seems you are still Benny gone rouge. Complete freedom is a wonderful thing isn't it? You are the best dude. Keep on keeping on.
So it is really you Finch. And it seems you are still Benny gone rouge. Complete freedom is a wonderful thing isn't it? You are the best dude. Keep on keeping on.
Hey Spo.
Hope everything is going well for you. Are you still in Vegas hitting the clubs? I should be back down that way in a week or so.
Drove to Elko, and spent a lazy day there. Got a haircut, had a coffee at a small shop, walked around the town square, went to the library, and cased every casino.
Almost found a huge angle; one of the bj dealers was very sloppy and flashed her hole card to the third base spot almost every time. Just my luck that that side of the table was full and I couldn't take advantage of it. I did make a mental note of it in case I'm back there later this summer.
I had decided to drive north to a campground that was near Jarbidge and then take a back route to Jackpot that would go through Idaho, and presumably some fantastic scenery. Cliffs notes version is that I made a wrong turn and the GPS tried to reroute me through back roads that only a four wheel drive vehicle could make. I wandered around in a circle for a while and then just slept in the front seat of my car. Woke up and backtracked to the interstate, passed through Wells and headed north on 93 to Jackpot. Stopped in at the Pony Express, which I think takes the prize for northernmost sportsbook in Nevada and made a few bets on the Bill Hill kiosk, headed over to Cactus Pete's and bet the StevieY picks. Won't be staying the night here, as all the rooms are more expensive than they should be. Maybe one day casino owners will realize that they increase their profits by charging less for hotel rooms. Played some bj at Barton's 93 club..they had a pit with five tables open, but exactly zero customers. Lost a few bucks and moved on. Not sure where I'll spend the night, but I have to pass back through Wendover to cash tickets on the way back to Vegas. Actually put in a lot of action for me today. Got both StevieY bets for my personal max, and put in corpars on the Mets, Marlins, White Sox, Astros, and Rockies.
Back in Laughlin.
Bet the Cubs at +124 for my biggest bet of tge day. Also bet the correlated parlay on that game. Astros and under was also good for a small bet after Golden Nugget took large bets on the other sides of the game and they were begging for action. Twins at +170 or better looks to be the clear right side as do the White Sox at +155 or so. Hit 4 deuces at the Nsud game at the Riverside, so I'm actually in a good mood today.
Hey Benny. Nah I only visit Vegas now on occasion and my club career is over. Just hitting my NBA totals and following a few other sharps. Living the domesticated life now, miss those days of debauchery. If you are ever in the Carolina's let me know. And love your posts never stop. Good luck to u in ur betting and travels old friend.
Also bet 910 Dodgers +120 and 914 Twins at +108, with corpars on all four games.
Stuck in Laughlin because my car has broken down and it feels like it is 120 degrees outside. My original plan had been to head to Reno in two weeks, but that move now might be delayed indefinitely.
Back in Laughlin. Stayed over at the Pioneer on Friday night. Cutter and his wife were coming out to see a cocert at the Ampitheater Saturday night. The plan was that he would come out Friday night and check into the Riverside, while she would follow the next day. On Friday, a waitress from Vegas I know started texting me saying that she was bored in Vegas and wanted to do something fun over the weekend. I mentioned that I was in Laughlin, and she texted back that she had a lot of clout in Laughlin and could easily get a comped suite for the two of us. I needed no further persuasion, although the free room was much more attractive to me than she was. Saturday morning rolls around, and I checked out of the Pioneer. She had to work day shift, so I was expecting her to get into town at around 8 o’clock.
Cutter and I spent the day putting baseball bets in, and playing blackjack and advantage video poker, you know, the things normal people spend their workdays doing. His wife texted him and said that one of their dogs was sick, and she had to take it to the vet and she would prefer to stay home and make sure the dog was ok. Hence, she would be staying in Vegas and not coming out. Meanwhile, the waitress texted me and stated that she had made a few calls trying to get a room somewhere, only to be told that there were no vacancies anywhere. I called a few places and this was confirmed. I told her not to come down, since the only place to sleep was the sofa in Cutter’s room. She texted back immediately and said it was too late, and she had already driven halfway there. Cutter is the most solid friend I know, so he immediately sprung into action and somehow got the Aquarius to comp him a suite. He took it, and gave me the key to his room at the Riverside. He went to the concert by himself, and the waitress and I wound up going to dinner. I was very tired, so we went right back to his room, and I fell asleep on top of the covers without taking my clothes or shoes off (I do this quite often).
Sunday morning, she finally finds someone willing to give her a room at the Riverside, and we get there, and it’s about half the size of the room we stayed in the night before. This made her sad. The three of us met up for breakfast, and then we went to get baseball in for the day. Then blackjack and video poker. She said something to me during the day about wanting to have sex with me, but I was more interested in gambling. This confused her. The three of us finally went for an early dinner at the Prime Rib Room at the Riverside. I made sure to sit somewhere where I could see the tv (which was tuned to espn), so that the baseball game could entertain me instead of whatever it was she was prattling on about. Prince Fielder came up to bat. Cutter looked at me and said, “This is why you don’t need team speed, for chrissakes. You get little fleas getting picked off, getting caught stealing. You need a big fucking cocksucker like Prince Fielder who can come up and hit a three run fuckin home run and you can’t have any goddam mistake.”
“Cutter, do you think the Orioles should use Terry Crowley as a DH more?”
“Terry Crowley’s lucky he’s still in baseball for chrissakes. He was released by the fuckin’ Cincinatti Reds. He was released by the fuckin’ goddamn Atlanta Braves. We saw that Terry Crowley could sit on his ass like any other fan and then come in a break open a fuckin’ game in the eighth inning. I really don’t understand these questions. Maybe if you shut your mouth and let me manage the team, ya cocksucker, we’d be a lot better off.”
“Cutter, she (I pointed at the waitress) wants to know the best time to put in a tomato plant.”
“She needs to worry about where the fuck her next lay is coming from. Maybe if she got out into the bars and went hustling around, she’d get a prick stuck in her every now and then. Go fuck yourself, and to fuck with your show.”
We were laughing pretty hard at out own joke, because that is some pretty funny material, but she had
no idea what we were talking about and had a look of terror on her face.
But for the most part, we were just joking around and having a good time. Somehow the conversation got around to men/women and so forth. He asked me how I can tell if I really care about a girl. I responded, “I always use, what I call, “The Flamethrower Test”.
“Dear God, what is the flamethrower test?”
“Okay, while you’re having sex with a girl, you pretend that your dick is a flamethrower. At the exact moment that you cum, your dick shoots out a huge flame that completely incinerates her body, killing her, and removing all trace of her from the world. At that moment, you ask yourself “On a scale of 1-10, how badly do I feel about what has just happened?” If the answer is less than a 7, then you don’t really care about her. Usually, I’m relieved that I no longer have to hear the sound of her voice, until I remember that it didn’t actually work. I’ve had sex with more than thirty girls in my life, and only two or three of them have ever passed The Flamethrower Test more than five times.”
She looked absolutely disgusted beyond belief. “What did I score on your flamethrower test?”
“I can’t remember. Probably about a five.”
I may be socially clueless, and lacking a filter, but I am completely at a loss as to how anyone could not find that joke funny.
She was beside herself. “That is sick. That is so completely sick. I am very, deeply hurt that you would say such a thing.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I looked to Cutter for help.
“Goose Gossage, your middle reliever has loaded the bases with no outs. You’re going to have to step up and get the save.”
“Sorry Benny, you’re on your own.”
The conversation eventually got back to somewhat normal, but I could tell she was livid at me. After dinner, Cutter suggested that we go over to Casino West and play VP. There is a waitress over there that is a hard nine and easily one of the hottest girls in Laughlin. And for some reason, she has a huge crush on him. (Anyone who’s ever met Cutter in person gets the joke here). Every time he pulls out a roll of hundreds and puts them into the machine, she practically goes down on him right there and then. We go over and the waitress (my waitress) realizes that she forgot her sunglasses back at the restaurant. We go back to check, and there’s no sign of them. She got furious because she claimed they cost $500. We go over to Casino West, and Cutter’s girl appears right on cue and starts giving him a back rub. My girl keeps whispering into my ear. “That’s horrible that he’s doing that. Doesn’t she know that he’s married?”
“It’s ok. She’s married, too. As long as you’re open about that sort of thing with your spouse, no one’s feelings can get hurt.”
She kept getting more and more pissed. I told her that it would probably be best if we took a break from each other. She should spend the night in her new room, I would spend the night at Cutter’s old room, and he could sleep at the Aquarius. She stormed off, and I realized that in the morning, I would have to give her the slip and make it down to the River Palms. I wasn‘t going to be able to get laid that night, but whatever, it was a freeroll anyway.
I sat down at the bar and started drinking Coors as fast as the barkeeper could bring them to me. Then the waitress started texting me. I am quoting this verbatim: “u need to lern how to kiss and eat pussy bcause u suck at doing those things. ur not even that hot or interesting the only good thing about u is that ur cock is 8 ¾ inch long.”
I called over Cutter’s waitress. “Hey check out this text message I just got!”
She read it and started cackling because she actually has a sense of humor. She showed it to the bartender, and he thought it was hilarious. Then my phone got passed around the entire bar.
(Editors note: my dick is not actually 8 ¾ inches long, and I have no idea how she arrived at that figure. I showed the text to the waitress because it was a great way to implant the idea in her head that I really am that equipped).
Around two oclock, I fell out and headed back to get some sleep. At 5:08, I was suddenly awakened by a repeated knock on my door. There was only one person that it could have been, and I had less than no intention of talking to her. That, and my head felt like it had been run over by a cement truck and I was incapable of leaving the bed. The knocks persisted, in fifteen second bursts, followed by fifteen seconds of silence. It took twenty minutes for her to get the hint that I wasn’t going to open the door and she finally left. I went back to sleep and woke up around nine.
I took my cell phone off the charger and turned it on. Twelve text messages came in simultaneously.
(5:08 am) I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.
(5:09) This isn’t funny. Open the fucking door right now u coward.
(5:11) OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR
(5:12) UR MAKING THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF UR LIFE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR
(5:14) U DON’T KNOW THE HELL THAT WILL COME DOWN ON U IF U DON’T OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW U FUCKING COCKSUCKER
(Four more of those came in that were even nastier, but you get the gist of it)
The final text was from Cutter and it was from five minutes before I had woken up.
“That girl sucked my dick for 45 minutes. On my way to the sports book right now. Meet me there and we’ll get our bets in.”
We went up and down the Laughlin drag going to each sports book. While this was going on, I received several dozen text messages, none of which I responded to. Here are the main points outlined in them.
1) I am the biggest piece of shit and waste of oxygen on this planet.
2) I suck in bed
3) She knows many powerful men in Vegas and Laughlin, and she could easily get several people to beat the shit out of me.
4) She has a gun and knows how to use it.
5) She has figured out that Cutter stole her glasses and she is going to call the Laughlin PD to report it, and he and I are both going to jail for this.
6) I am a pervert and will wind up dying alone
I couldn’t stop laughing at this. You had to have been there, but trust me, it was one of the funniest, weirdest displays of depraved human behavior that I have ever witnessed. All because I made a joke that she found unfunny. Cutter was less than amused at the thought of a visit from the police, so I did text her back and smooth that part out. She responded by saying that she realizes that I actually stole the glasses, and she was going to call the police if I didn’t return them immediately. Why I would want to steal a pair of women’s sunglasses is anyone’s guess.
She sent me one final text: “Oh by the way one last thing this cougar found a new cub a 28 yr old hunk and he is not afraid to be a man. Actually he found me I was dressed up and looking for you and he called me out. U don’t know what u are missing because u woke up my sexual desires. He and I went back to his hotel room and we fucked twenty minutes after first meeting and he was soooooooooooooooooo good.”
I showed the text to Cutter.
“I wonder what she scored on his flamethrower test” he asked.
Comments
Marlins +162
White Sox +149
Astros +195
Mariners +150
Headed back to vegas in a few hours..might have a doozy of a BP story to write about in a day or two.
921 Mariners +190
928 Angels +105
929 Dodgers +105
Thanks, I didn't realize anyone was paying attention. Wound up losing on non-posted picks yesterday as well as having a small losing day at blackjack.
I read over that post from Goats again and realized that most of what I'm doing is aggressive line shopping and not actual handicapping. Stuff like betting Cleveland +125 at the El Cortez when pinnacle has +111, even though I didnt think Cleveland would be able to hit Lester.
Those bets just haven't been coming in for me the last two weeks.
Headed back to Northern Nevada for another trip in the immediate future, and I'll try to engage in some drunken mayhem.
967 Royals +135
Jack: irzwen/3128/samort
same footnote
In Laughlin and running badly
978 Angels +142
At the Silverton. Headed to Elko County on Sunday.
973 Tampa Bay +115
In Laughlin and leaving for the north tomorrow. I know this is a long shot, but if anyone from here is going to be in Elko county in the next week and wants to meet up, let me know.
Stopped in Pioche, a small mining town about a hundred miles from Vegas. I was told they might have good video poker, but all they had was two saloons with about a dozen machines each, and the paytables on both sets were complete garbage. Took a few cellphone camera pics of the town, and continued north. Got to Ely in time for a late lunch, stopped at the Hotel Nevada, but the table games weren't open. No good slots, but they do have a Bill Hill kiosk, so I stuff some hundreds in and make some bets. Continued on north, and five miles out of the town, all the buildings disappear, and there is only nothingness. Got to Wendover two hours later, and the town looks nothing like I remember it. I haven't been here for twelve years, but none of the memories I have of it are accurate. It's a long story why, the details of which probably aren't important. I had been living in northwest Wyoming with my first girlfriend, and we had a nasty breakup. Withdrew all my money from the bank and headed to the nearest source of gambling. single deck blackjack dealt almost all the way to the bottom in a town where enormous bet spreads are tolerated. I think I wound up staying a week, won about 800 and headed into Reno.
I had felt exhausted by the drive, so I checked into the Red Garter and got ready for sleep as soon as Mariners and under didn't come in. Watched Midnight Run on youtube, watched some old NFL primetime episodes, but knew I couldn't fall asleep anytime soon. Walked over to the Rainbow club, scouted games, but there was nothing playable, just a Peppermill clone with no free coffee machines anywhere in sight. I know no one here, and I don't think anyone from any of my old lives knows I'm here. I'm haunted by the memory of Renee, what she used to look like when I would wake up in the morning and the sunlight would be shining right on her even though the bedroom window was on the west side of the room. Whenever I do something I know she hates like driving the speed limit, I can hear her voice inside my head telling me what a disappointment I am to her. One day all this will come to an end, I keep telling myself, twelve years from now I'll come back here, and my memories of this trip will have long since disappeared into the far reaches of my mind, as will all memories of falling in love with someone just because we both loved South Park, and she was a 5'8" brunette with all the trimmings.
I'm addicted to the sweat, that feeling you get when you bet a dog at plus 130, and the game is tied at 2 at the end of the sixth inning, and you know the next hour is going to be agony. Games like the Angels/As two nights ago; I had Angels parlayed to the over, and wound up watching the entire extra session, sweating out every single pitch and out until it ended. The uncertainty of having no idea what will happen tomorrow. No one is waiting for me, no one is expecting to see me. I'll wake up in a hotel bed, get up and have the capability to go anywhere or do anything. I'll wind up in a sportsbook somewhere, betting picks from one of the very few people I follow online and whatever Peppermill throws up that's way off of pinnacle. Thinking of going to Elko and Jackpot in the next day or two, but have no idea which hotel I might stay at.
Hey Spo.
Hope everything is going well for you. Are you still in Vegas hitting the clubs? I should be back down that way in a week or so.
Almost found a huge angle; one of the bj dealers was very sloppy and flashed her hole card to the third base spot almost every time. Just my luck that that side of the table was full and I couldn't take advantage of it. I did make a mental note of it in case I'm back there later this summer.
I had decided to drive north to a campground that was near Jarbidge and then take a back route to Jackpot that would go through Idaho, and presumably some fantastic scenery. Cliffs notes version is that I made a wrong turn and the GPS tried to reroute me through back roads that only a four wheel drive vehicle could make. I wandered around in a circle for a while and then just slept in the front seat of my car. Woke up and backtracked to the interstate, passed through Wells and headed north on 93 to Jackpot. Stopped in at the Pony Express, which I think takes the prize for northernmost sportsbook in Nevada and made a few bets on the Bill Hill kiosk, headed over to Cactus Pete's and bet the StevieY picks. Won't be staying the night here, as all the rooms are more expensive than they should be. Maybe one day casino owners will realize that they increase their profits by charging less for hotel rooms. Played some bj at Barton's 93 club..they had a pit with five tables open, but exactly zero customers. Lost a few bucks and moved on. Not sure where I'll spend the night, but I have to pass back through Wendover to cash tickets on the way back to Vegas. Actually put in a lot of action for me today. Got both StevieY bets for my personal max, and put in corpars on the Mets, Marlins, White Sox, Astros, and Rockies.
Bet the Cubs at +124 for my biggest bet of tge day. Also bet the correlated parlay on that game. Astros and under was also good for a small bet after Golden Nugget took large bets on the other sides of the game and they were begging for action. Twins at +170 or better looks to be the clear right side as do the White Sox at +155 or so. Hit 4 deuces at the Nsud game at the Riverside, so I'm actually in a good mood today.
Mets +190
Stuck in Laughlin because my car has broken down and it feels like it is 120 degrees outside. My original plan had been to head to Reno in two weeks, but that move now might be delayed indefinitely.
957 Mets +150
967 Red Sox +135
Cutter and I spent the day putting baseball bets in, and playing blackjack and advantage video poker, you know, the things normal people spend their workdays doing. His wife texted him and said that one of their dogs was sick, and she had to take it to the vet and she would prefer to stay home and make sure the dog was ok. Hence, she would be staying in Vegas and not coming out. Meanwhile, the waitress texted me and stated that she had made a few calls trying to get a room somewhere, only to be told that there were no vacancies anywhere. I called a few places and this was confirmed. I told her not to come down, since the only place to sleep was the sofa in Cutter’s room. She texted back immediately and said it was too late, and she had already driven halfway there. Cutter is the most solid friend I know, so he immediately sprung into action and somehow got the Aquarius to comp him a suite. He took it, and gave me the key to his room at the Riverside. He went to the concert by himself, and the waitress and I wound up going to dinner. I was very tired, so we went right back to his room, and I fell asleep on top of the covers without taking my clothes or shoes off (I do this quite often).
Sunday morning, she finally finds someone willing to give her a room at the Riverside, and we get there, and it’s about half the size of the room we stayed in the night before. This made her sad. The three of us met up for breakfast, and then we went to get baseball in for the day. Then blackjack and video poker. She said something to me during the day about wanting to have sex with me, but I was more interested in gambling. This confused her. The three of us finally went for an early dinner at the Prime Rib Room at the Riverside. I made sure to sit somewhere where I could see the tv (which was tuned to espn), so that the baseball game could entertain me instead of whatever it was she was prattling on about. Prince Fielder came up to bat. Cutter looked at me and said, “This is why you don’t need team speed, for chrissakes. You get little fleas getting picked off, getting caught stealing. You need a big fucking cocksucker like Prince Fielder who can come up and hit a three run fuckin home run and you can’t have any goddam mistake.”
“Cutter, do you think the Orioles should use Terry Crowley as a DH more?”
“Terry Crowley’s lucky he’s still in baseball for chrissakes. He was released by the fuckin’ Cincinatti Reds. He was released by the fuckin’ goddamn Atlanta Braves. We saw that Terry Crowley could sit on his ass like any other fan and then come in a break open a fuckin’ game in the eighth inning. I really don’t understand these questions. Maybe if you shut your mouth and let me manage the team, ya cocksucker, we’d be a lot better off.”
“Cutter, she (I pointed at the waitress) wants to know the best time to put in a tomato plant.”
“She needs to worry about where the fuck her next lay is coming from. Maybe if she got out into the bars and went hustling around, she’d get a prick stuck in her every now and then. Go fuck yourself, and to fuck with your show.”
We were laughing pretty hard at out own joke, because that is some pretty funny material, but she had
no idea what we were talking about and had a look of terror on her face.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HR8L_OW7kbY
But for the most part, we were just joking around and having a good time. Somehow the conversation got around to men/women and so forth. He asked me how I can tell if I really care about a girl. I responded, “I always use, what I call, “The Flamethrower Test”.
“Dear God, what is the flamethrower test?”
“Okay, while you’re having sex with a girl, you pretend that your dick is a flamethrower. At the exact moment that you cum, your dick shoots out a huge flame that completely incinerates her body, killing her, and removing all trace of her from the world. At that moment, you ask yourself “On a scale of 1-10, how badly do I feel about what has just happened?” If the answer is less than a 7, then you don’t really care about her. Usually, I’m relieved that I no longer have to hear the sound of her voice, until I remember that it didn’t actually work. I’ve had sex with more than thirty girls in my life, and only two or three of them have ever passed The Flamethrower Test more than five times.”
She looked absolutely disgusted beyond belief. “What did I score on your flamethrower test?”
“I can’t remember. Probably about a five.”
I may be socially clueless, and lacking a filter, but I am completely at a loss as to how anyone could not find that joke funny.
She was beside herself. “That is sick. That is so completely sick. I am very, deeply hurt that you would say such a thing.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I looked to Cutter for help.
“Goose Gossage, your middle reliever has loaded the bases with no outs. You’re going to have to step up and get the save.”
“Sorry Benny, you’re on your own.”
The conversation eventually got back to somewhat normal, but I could tell she was livid at me. After dinner, Cutter suggested that we go over to Casino West and play VP. There is a waitress over there that is a hard nine and easily one of the hottest girls in Laughlin. And for some reason, she has a huge crush on him. (Anyone who’s ever met Cutter in person gets the joke here). Every time he pulls out a roll of hundreds and puts them into the machine, she practically goes down on him right there and then. We go over and the waitress (my waitress) realizes that she forgot her sunglasses back at the restaurant. We go back to check, and there’s no sign of them. She got furious because she claimed they cost $500. We go over to Casino West, and Cutter’s girl appears right on cue and starts giving him a back rub. My girl keeps whispering into my ear. “That’s horrible that he’s doing that. Doesn’t she know that he’s married?”
“It’s ok. She’s married, too. As long as you’re open about that sort of thing with your spouse, no one’s feelings can get hurt.”
She kept getting more and more pissed. I told her that it would probably be best if we took a break from each other. She should spend the night in her new room, I would spend the night at Cutter’s old room, and he could sleep at the Aquarius. She stormed off, and I realized that in the morning, I would have to give her the slip and make it down to the River Palms. I wasn‘t going to be able to get laid that night, but whatever, it was a freeroll anyway.
I sat down at the bar and started drinking Coors as fast as the barkeeper could bring them to me. Then the waitress started texting me. I am quoting this verbatim: “u need to lern how to kiss and eat pussy bcause u suck at doing those things. ur not even that hot or interesting the only good thing about u is that ur cock is 8 ¾ inch long.”
I called over Cutter’s waitress. “Hey check out this text message I just got!”
She read it and started cackling because she actually has a sense of humor. She showed it to the bartender, and he thought it was hilarious. Then my phone got passed around the entire bar.
(Editors note: my dick is not actually 8 ¾ inches long, and I have no idea how she arrived at that figure. I showed the text to the waitress because it was a great way to implant the idea in her head that I really am that equipped).
Around two oclock, I fell out and headed back to get some sleep. At 5:08, I was suddenly awakened by a repeated knock on my door. There was only one person that it could have been, and I had less than no intention of talking to her. That, and my head felt like it had been run over by a cement truck and I was incapable of leaving the bed. The knocks persisted, in fifteen second bursts, followed by fifteen seconds of silence. It took twenty minutes for her to get the hint that I wasn’t going to open the door and she finally left. I went back to sleep and woke up around nine.
I took my cell phone off the charger and turned it on. Twelve text messages came in simultaneously.
(5:08 am) I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.
(5:09) This isn’t funny. Open the fucking door right now u coward.
(5:11) OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR
(5:12) UR MAKING THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF UR LIFE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR
(5:14) U DON’T KNOW THE HELL THAT WILL COME DOWN ON U IF U DON’T OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW U FUCKING COCKSUCKER
(Four more of those came in that were even nastier, but you get the gist of it)
The final text was from Cutter and it was from five minutes before I had woken up.
“That girl sucked my dick for 45 minutes. On my way to the sports book right now. Meet me there and we’ll get our bets in.”
We went up and down the Laughlin drag going to each sports book. While this was going on, I received several dozen text messages, none of which I responded to. Here are the main points outlined in them.
1) I am the biggest piece of shit and waste of oxygen on this planet.
2) I suck in bed
3) She knows many powerful men in Vegas and Laughlin, and she could easily get several people to beat the shit out of me.
4) She has a gun and knows how to use it.
5) She has figured out that Cutter stole her glasses and she is going to call the Laughlin PD to report it, and he and I are both going to jail for this.
6) I am a pervert and will wind up dying alone
I couldn’t stop laughing at this. You had to have been there, but trust me, it was one of the funniest, weirdest displays of depraved human behavior that I have ever witnessed. All because I made a joke that she found unfunny. Cutter was less than amused at the thought of a visit from the police, so I did text her back and smooth that part out. She responded by saying that she realizes that I actually stole the glasses, and she was going to call the police if I didn’t return them immediately. Why I would want to steal a pair of women’s sunglasses is anyone’s guess.
She sent me one final text: “Oh by the way one last thing this cougar found a new cub a 28 yr old hunk and he is not afraid to be a man. Actually he found me I was dressed up and looking for you and he called me out. U don’t know what u are missing because u woke up my sexual desires. He and I went back to his hotel room and we fucked twenty minutes after first meeting and he was soooooooooooooooooo good.”
I showed the text to Cutter.
“I wonder what she scored on his flamethrower test” he asked.