Two nights in Vegas and I reaffirmed my suspicion or better yet, it reminded me why I don’t get down with gambling. On the first night, as my cab neared the casino I was hit in the face with a big billboard of Barry Manilow and then that bitch hit me again when I checked in. Pictures of him all up in that casino. He was everywhere I looked. He even has his own Fanilow store in said casino.
I thought bubbled to myself, “Ugh, fine, if I’m going to be haunted by the ghost of Barry Manilow while he’s alive I probably should try harder to become a Fanilow.” It’s just so hard for me to listen to men, and really anyone not JLo or Christina. But if it gets that man’s haunting spirit back in his body and to stop haunting me, I guess I can try again.
I went to the casino ATM and pulled out $100. I thought bubbled myself again, “WTF? $10 just to use the ATM?” The nerve of casinos, as if they aren’t going to end up with all your money anyhow. The “chings” sounded like thunder and the lights either followed or came before the electronically created sounds. Sound, well it was everywhere, and I couldn’t tell what was making the noise or if all of them were making noises.
I took the $100 (real total $110) and went and sat down at a big Wheel of Fortune slot machine. This white sweaty greasy guy was sitting at the one next to me (they were at an angle). He looks in my direction and says, “Chris.”
I looked at him and then around. All the sudden it was already time for me to put in another $20 into the slot. I poked the button for the dopamine hit that so many people (especially in my own family) talked about and nothing happened; so I did it again. Nothing… no dopamine.
Guy- “Chris?”
Guy- “Hey, Chris?”
I glanced back over at him and thought bubbled myself again, “Hmm…weird. Maybe he has a friend named Chris sitting on the other side of him?” I glanced back at the machine and thought bubbled my cute brown self again, “Where is your friend Chris? Why is he ignoring you? What did you do? You need to get betta friends or be a betta friend, sir. Maybe he will answer then.” I put in another $20. No dopamine release yet.
Guy- “Hey Chris?”
Me- *looking at him* Oh are you talking to me? Him- Yes, Chris.”
Me- No, I’m Lee.
Him- No you want to party? (giving me the seductive slutty eye)
Me- *smizing with my eyes* Ohhhh the only Chris I want is Chris-tina Aguilera. I’m here for her concert. But thannnnks.
Fine, that last line didn’t happen like that, I just said, “Oh no thanks.” Realizing that there was no dopamine button to be pushed at this machine, and that this guy was trying to get me to have a dopamine release another way, I decided to move, and tried another greedy ass machine. Then the same mister twister came and sat down near me and was smiling in my direction. I smiled, got up and left. He followed me for a few more fake outs (meaning – I stopped and looked at slot machines like I was so interested in it that I wanted to just give it all my money and he parked himself near it). I decided to ditch the slots altogether and went and sat at the bar just above the machines. It was safely far enough away from the floor that I wouldn’t have someone trying to call me out my motha’ tuckin name. I ordered a glass of pinot grigio. The bartender brought it to me with my credit card receipt. I thought bubbled myself real hard, “WTF? $20 fuckin dollars for a ¼ of a glass of wine.” I sipped it. Thought bubbled myself real hard again, “OMFG its not even that good. Not fuckin $20 good.” (Running total -$135 and I’d only been there 40 minutes. $5 for a tip. That doesn’t even include the cab ride. Can you tell I don’t get out much?)
Chris? Who dat? I don’t know Chris today. I may have known that bitch once upon a time, but do not wish to visit with him or her ever again- that’s a definite and always nooo.. no… no…not no mo’. That’s some shit that would make me miss the freakin Christina, not Chris-Tina, Show. And that’s just offensive. It would also take away everything I worked so hard for and now that I actually get to do it without harassment, bigotry, or racism- that’ll be a “oh no thannnks.” I’ll take the my odds at success with those things removed.
Yup, I sure did go to that Christina show, and it deserves its own entry. But I will say this- IT WAS AMAZING. Tall people suck sometimes, BUT I ALREADY KNEW THAT. And no I don’t mean suck like cochino sucking…but they suck like that too. I mean some sucking of the terrible and rude nature kind of sucking. *short person’s perspective* *pc term- vertically challenged person’s perspective* The post about the bomb ass Xtina Show will have to cum later. Loved it and the company. *Even if that bitch made us late for said show* *Love ya gurrrl* *Thanks boo but also BOO on your tardiness*
The point of that whole long intro is to say I hate gambling. It does nothing for my dopamine release and/or production. If I wanted to give money away, I can think of better ways to do so that will actually make me feel good. However, I do love the lottery, and Mexican Bingo- Lotteria, and drag b-i-n-g-o. LOL so gambling adjacent, but not gambling at a casino.
Thought bubbles flood my head about Mexican bingo and my grandma. “Las Chichis”, is what my grandma used to say when she pulled the mermaid card when we played as kids. Cousins, aunts, and sometimes grandpa and uncles would gather around grandma’s (Ama) table and picked their lucky bingo cards.
The other old lady I want to bring up in this gambling post is Rhonda Rae. OOOO, I’m so glad I did not listen to that old bitch when I had a few extra dollars to spend. I told him that I wanted to sign up to take a class and he discouraged it. He thought I was being wasteful with the little money I had. The class cost $1,600 to take and you had to prepay. That’s a lot of money for me, not for a lot of you, but for me it is. It was a 3-day training, 8 hours a day, just to learn a new therapeutic technique; called Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART).
We had an argument about it and he kinda made me feel a little bad for paying the fee. I talked to my other bestie about it and told her that I didn’t know when the next time an opportunity for me to afford a training like this was going happen and I wanted to do it. Rhonda, Ms. Rae if yo nasty, often talks to me about how important it is to “Use your money to invest in something.” Well, I’m glad that I did, it just wasn’t where he wanted me to invest. I invested in MYSELF. Every time I do, given the chance, it has always had the most amazing results.
I at least know I’m a bitch and a boss. I’m a bitch and a boss, I’ma shine like gloss – given the fucking opportunity to shine. No better person to invest in than myself (someone I know has the best intentions for people, that I can count on, and that has my trust). I may be human AF, flawed and a little on the thickum thighs side these days, but I come to realize no matter the size there’s no one you can trust more than in yourself (something I’m still working on and I still bet on me).
Well, I won the lottery (per se). I hit the jackpot (per se). I got a full house (per se – so no you can’t rent my spare bedroom), but I won. I bet on myself and I fuckin won. I not only won but the 6 people I’ve used the ART technique on have also won.
It’s so cool, exciting, and makes me want to cry like a little bitch when they tell me or show me how that session has changed their life. Fine, I may have cried like a little bitch a couple of times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to feel happy for people when things go well for them. I can’t help it if my eye holes leak at the best of sometimes.
It’s cool… little ol’ me – a political refugee from Utah (those red hat devils were too much); moved to this desert and I’m finally given a fucking chance to bloom. So blooming happy right now. I’m fucking doing it. It’s the coolest experience I’ve ever had in my 22-year-old life. (Fine, I’m 46.)
Yup, this little brown chunky thickum thighs Mexican turned up Palm Springs’ happy thermostat 6 motha’ fuckin degrees. 6 more degrees of happiness…6 happy people, 7 including me. 7 Happy Homo sapiens (because not all of them were homos.) I’m going to keep turning up that happy thermostat dial because I’ve come to find out that is my slot machine jackpot, my dopamine release, and my happy button.
So, if your Rhonda Rae tells you not to invest in yourself or not to bet on yourself, do it anyway. Even if you’re scared- do it! And if you don’t have a Rhonda Rae out here, then you should get one. Everybody needs someone, even me, even Rhonda Rae. But when they make you feel bad about investing in yourself … you extend your hand out to them and say, “Bet?”
Bet- I can. Bet- I will and you bet I did. I bet on brown, and I won. We won (well me and those other 6 people). I’ll do a follow up post with a couple of comments from people who gave me permission to share parts of their feedback about ART; their real life experience and funny, sweet, kind, and tearful comments.
I feel like for the first time I get to see just how deeply someone can trust me and I get to reward them with some positive fucking shit in return. Coolest thing ever. I’m winning. I bet on me and I like my odds now.
Lucky 7s Bitch,
The Happy Homo
PS I have so much to write about but not enough time to do it. I also have to work bitches, but life is funny, and I want to share funny with you. Past, present, future- because we are all of it.
PSS I love you, most of you. Fuck that bitch that I don’t – you know who you are. I will always hate you. You are a disgusting human and I should probably do an ART session just about the disgusting shit you did to me.
PSSS Also fuck traitor trump. It is past his jail time. Where are the rest of the boxes traitor trump????
Russia? North Korea? Saudis? We all need to make sure we don’t let our past fears of participating in the election process keep us from the polls. We need to vote for President Biden. Some of you 80 year olds shouldn’t be running the country – much less driving, but he’s still with it and deserves our vote. It will be the death of America, our democracy and Ukraine if we don’t.
PSSSS I think it’s so cool that there are a couple of people who actually take the time to read my blog, my thought bubbles. It’s very sweet- except for you – you creepy stalker bitch and you know who your grossness is. But the other few people who read… are open with some of their feedback. A couple of people say they can really see me in my writing and that is what brought them into my office. Thought bubble- “WOW.” That’s a pretty cool compliment and so glad you are reading and understanding me, liking me regardless, in spite of, because of, or lovingly read another blog post, and then another. That’s very sweet and I hope I make you laugh or feel some kind of emotions.
Remember I’m also a horny gay guy having a human experience in Palm Springs and may fuck up from time to time. I’m not perfect, but I’m a good person. That much I know to be true. I know there’s more good people out here and I can’t wait to find you. *heart bubbles*
We are all having a human experience- together, in this beautiful desert. Part of that experience is feeling, expressing, and spooging our emotions onto each other. Just not on my face. Ugh. I do not want a pimple. *egg plant emoji bubbles*
PSx5 this has not been proofread. My bestie usually gives it a read before I post to make sure the things I spelled wrong were supposed to be spelled wrong. Proofing will have to wait until tomorrow.
PSx6 Best $1,600 I’ve ever spent on a dopamine release. Watching people all happy and shit- priceless. Fuckin priceless.
PSx7 Ugh, come on old employer. Make a better offer so I can move on with my life. You know they done did me dirty… I’d like it to be over. Please don’t salt the wound with an insult. It’s offensive.
