The Weekend Ends...

Hahahaha – does it really have to end? Do I have to stop partying? Do I really have to go back to work tomorrow? DOES CHRISSY REALLY HAVE TO GO HOME?

The answer, of course, is yes. We’re just returning to the apartment after our casino adventure and God, will I be hurtin again as I wake up tomorrow/later today.

I’m torn – so happy, and so sad. It was so good to see my friends, so fun to celebrate with my fantastic family, and such a relief to know that no longer will I hesitate before going out. Never again will I feel uncomfortable if a coworker – or a client – asks me to meet for a drink. Never again will I have to lie to get into a bar, or recruit my friends to sneak me in. Never again will I suffer the anxiety of being a professional woman who can’t even legally drink.

And yet at the same time, Chrissy went home. I miss her already – how I found such a great friend, God knows.

And I’m so grateful to have met Dianne. She’s my girl, too – one of three. She’s fun, sweet, and we get along so well. She wrote me the nicest birthday card. I really appreciate her friendship.

It was fun tonight/last night to see Jon – who’s always hilarious – and his roommate – a rather handsome policeman who was hitting on my only other girlfriend – Shannon. Plus, casinos are always a good time.

But – for the first time legally – I gambled! Somehow I was rather good at roulette, although while playing I lost track of the important things in life… i.e. my purse.

See, I never carry a purse. My phone and wallet fit nicely into my back pockets, which over course is neither very flattering or safe. So my mother bought me a Coach “wristlet” for my 21st birthday (along with a BEAUTIFUL necklace!) Wrapped up in the game of roulette, I put my brand-new camera on the chair beside my purse, stood up and focused on that hypnotizing spinning wheel. When I turned around sometime later, I notice no one was watching my precious belongings and thought to myself: “Wow, someone could walk right by and steal my camera!” (I mean, who would want a purse, right?) Being cautious, I wrapped the camera around my body. When it came time to walk away, I noticed the purse was gone.

Thankfully, the purse had nothing in it but eyeliner, a debit card and my crappy-ass phone, which – as everyone later reminded me – no one in their right mind would want. All my cash and chips were on my person. For that, the security card applauded me as he scanned over the millions of films recording the roulette table, searching for the thief. It didn’t take long for the problem to be solved: just as I finished the paperwork a man approached the security desk and said, “Uh, I found this thing under a toilet in the men’s bathroom.” That thing was my purse, with everything still inside.

All they were after were cash and chips.


Funnier still was our adventure at the craps table. I was gambling, and sucking at it. (Apparently I can’t throw dice?) But, some young man across the table obviously thought Chrissy was cute.

Nerdy as he was, he asked the ‘dealer’ (what do you call those people?) “Can I put 5 up for that fine woman to throw?”

Can you call that ‘crap’py flirting?

With a chip donated to her name, Chrissy rolled. And she rolled and she rolled. The table loved her.

Some $40 later, her dynasty finally fell… to me, who promptly sucked. The table went cold, Chrissy lost all her winnings, and off we went… until her “sponsor” tracked Chrissy down.

I was ready to stay by her side, rescue her, protect her from strangers… but the boys dragged me off, promising it was funnier this way. “Right, until she gets kidnapped and raped.” “Cameras,” they said, “cameras.”

This man was young, tall and lanky. Awkward. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“Chrissy.” She was obviously less than interested.

“Really?” he snorted out some combination of a grunt and a laugh. “That’s so funny! My name’s Chris.”

“Uh huh.” She raised her eyebrows and ran away.

What can I say? You just can’t buy Chrissy.


Aside from the continuous hilarities caused by Jon and his roommate Steve, the only other story I have is our walk though the pen of a poker room. That’s dangerous. Here we were, three girls looking hott, dressed to the nines and smokin’ anyways. We strutted through to the poker room, a basement-room cut off from the rest of the casino, radiating confidence. The place was packed full of dirty old men with hungry eyes. Caged animals. What do you expect from locking adrenaline charged gamblers in a tiny room with cards, beers, and other men? Bored quickly with Jon and Alex’s cards, Steven escorted us ladies out… and, just to prove a point, popped his collar and strutted like a pimp, while each of us clung an arm.

Yes, we got hollered at. Gotta love boobs.


We left the casino around 3. Stopped off in Mendon to rest up, then drove Chrissy to the airport for her God-awful-early flight. Now, finally crawling into my bed after three solid nights of playing, I feel the exhaustion set in. And just think – I have to wake up soon to go home and get my new NOT-vertical license from the Mass RMV. Hottness…

Casino, friends, bright lights and booze - what more do you want from a 21st birthday weekend?