I Think I’m Broken

Two days after i tossed my fiancee out for failure to adapt to my psychotic quirkiness,  i was sent to Ellsworth, South Dakota for a shoot.

(please know that i was actually very upset about making him leave. i cried until i finished my glass of wine, then went to hang out with the neighbors. the next day i cleaned my house and went to a fair.)

we got up, met with our contact and he told us that we couldn’t work that day because of yadayadayada… so my boss and another higher up decided they wanted to go hit up some casinos. I hate gambling personally, because i get drunk and start throwing money, so i get pissy and more drunk and think maybe my luck has changed… then when it hasn’t, i get another drink. vicious circle really.

i figured i’d tag a margarita a casino, since we were moving around pretty quickly. when i rememberd, i’d tell the bartender to make it a single shot, since tequila and i do not actually do very well together. my bosses promised me they would only be there a couple hours…

i had fun at first, and by my 5th drink i started putting in a dollar here and there into the penny slots.. i won like $5 and almost had a heart attack. Then I lost twenty and got another drink.

We found a bigger casino that had blackjack tables so my bosses were in heaven. I liked the bartender, and we came up with cool options for my margaritas. Turns out i like them with no ice, a couple olives, sweet and sour, margarita mix, tequila, and either salt on the rim or else olive juice. mmmm.. He’s a taxidermist, runs a tackleandbaitshop, is a bartender (of course) and wants to build boats in Florida in the winter. after my 5th drink from him, we had the mix down, so i was confident that i could wander and start my days work while he would keep them coming my way, each one more delicious than the last.

(My days work of course, being that i was going to find a rich husband. If he was in his 70s i would be okay, but if he happened to be my age and reallyreally goodlooking, hell that would be even better)

(Disclaimer: please note that i took a muscle relaxer and a bunch of painkillers before i started writing this, so if i start talking about unicorns and pumpernickle it probably makes sense to me. somehow.)

i watched my friends play blackjack for a while, asking a million questions because i was kind of drunk (drink?anotherdrinkplease,thanksyou’reapeach!) and paying attention to some slightly good looking man who kept pulling hundreds out of his lovely wallet. After about 15 minutes he switched to sit next to me, claiming that perhaps he would have better luck on the opposite side of the table. (I had taken off my long sleeve shirt before i walked up, leaving a tank underneath. My friends asked what happened to my shirt, i told them that some people go to casinos to lose money, i go to lose clothing. perhaps this was inspiration to his luck)

i was bored, so i pulled some cash out and shoved it into a slot machine. i lost. i put more in. lost again. was fucking pissed by that point and convinced that there was a conspiracy because the cute little old blue lady sitting next to me won a couple hundred.

i decided the bar was the safest place to be, since i might as well drink the money instead of let it be eaten. i remember two older men telling me i was being mighty anti social sitting all the way at my end of the bar. then it turns out that they got free drinks since they worked at that casino. They wanted to help me discover what my favorite shot was, and since it was free anyways… the ultimate decision was that tequila is my favorite shot ever since it was the only one i could take 3-in-a-row of without making faces… then i remember my supervisor walking up and telling me it was time to go. so i kissed one of the old men on their cheeks, waved goodbye to my bartender, and stumbled out to the car. (Apparently, it was time to go because the floor supervisor had cut me off. To which i responded, what the fuck for, which he said, because i was really drunk. i snorted at him, said, i’m not drunk, what would you like to talk about? literature? geography? politics? history? try me! Then i proceeded to lecture him that drunk people of my calibur are actually better drivers then others, because we are more careful….. I’ve decided that since i don’t remember this, it probably wasn’t true even though there is a slight chance i might have said very similar things to friends of mine)

as soon as i stood up and walked out, i realized that yes indeed, i was very drunk. silly me for forgetting that i never actually feel drunk when i’m drinking while sitting down. long drive home story short, i threw up for the next 40 miles, into my purse, which yes, i did empty. we reached the gate, and the guard looked into my bleary,boogery,teary face and asked what we did that afternoon (it was still daylight). i’ve always had a horror of telling guards that i’ve been drinking, even if i’m not driving. so i told him we went to Mt Rushmore, while the people in front told him we had been at casinos. We pulled up to our hotel, and they asked if i could get inside okay. I said of course, so i grabbed all my stuff, spilling tequilavomit all over our rental car, and stumbled to the door. where i decided i didn’t have my keys. so i stumbled back to the car. they decided to help me up. once in my room, i knelt down in the living room and started crying, because i was thinking about my most recent failure. they were snickering, so i decided to sleep. i woke up at midnight, and my throat (which had been recovering from strep) felt like somebody had slapped a couple slabs of bloody hamburger in the back. i couldn’t drink the water that i needed, and i couldn’t swallow. ack.

i went outside for a smoke, and talked to a cop that was out there. i’d at least changed my clothes so i didn’t reek…. here’s a blurb that i wrote after i went back upstairs and couldn’t sleep:

8 Sept 2008
I really hope this is low because i can’t picture life being much worse. my stupid side is thinking ‘oh well at least you have a job’ and the other side is pointing out that my NCOIC had to drape a blanket over my slightly concious self (that was on her knees in tears, coverd in vomit and boogers and leftover McD’s frenchfries), godknows how many hours ago in my living room. I think casinos are angry fun for me.
stripclubs frustrate me, but casinos, well, i can’t STOP myself from wasting money i need to save.

haha… 🙂 i woke up the next day refreshed and renewed – 13 hours of sleep will do that to you. my friends were talking smack to me for the rest of our trip, but i refused to get offended. I’ve been drunker, and will probably be again sometime soon. they made jokes about drinking for 3 hours and then passing out. well, i have no idea how long we were at the casinos, but i did spend about $150 on margaritas, and then had manymany free shots. I don’t care who you are, thats going to fuck you up.

i also suspect that i dislocated my jaw from all the throwing up. i haven’t been able to open my mouth all the way since then, and i’m in pain every time i move my jaw. i went to the dentist today about it, and they say i could be grinding my teeth in my sleep… which people do when they are stressed out… which is legit. i like my version better though.


~ by manjamanis on September 12, 2008.

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