Monday, March 06, 2006

Reno, You tasteless Bitch, I've got your money; It's my money now, And I ain't never Gonna Give it back. Sucka.

I was going to begin this post by saying the following:

To all the fucking cities that owe me money - Las Vegas, Nevada, Blackhawk and Central City, in Colorado, Atlantic City, New Jersey, and some in various, undisclosed, European and, frankly, globe-trotting destinations: You can add the distinguished city of Reno, Nevada, to your prestigious ranks.

But nay, dear Readers, that is not how we will begin such a narrative, as 'twould be a false road on which to thee take, an error once done never more to unmake.You see, as the title of this particular word-filled endeavor vaguely infers, I done took me some Reno money. And I ain't never gonna give it back.

But Soft! What light through mine own charcoal-encrusted soul doth break, a dove like beacon of hope and understanding, beckoning and demanding universal peace and love? Yes, t'is true. I will give something back, Dear Reader. I'll give back the one picture I took while I was in Reno, truly, the ONLY picture.

Actually, it only snowed one morning, and I quite liked it: Hence the picture. I just had no other time where I managed to take a picture, out of sheer laziness, unwillingness, and commitment to the cause: Roulette.

You see, I have a love affair with the game of Roulette. I have a roulette table in my kitchen. T'is true; I also have Franken Shredder, the world's singularly most awesome Paper Shredder that man hath seen, and that the human hand (and mine) hath wrought.

And speaking of gambling, notice I didn't say Foxwoods, nor Mohegan Sun, in Connecticut. Let me tell you one thing: The only time you will catch me in those bastions of bile is when I go to evacuate mine own bladder upon the still burning embers which once comprised the shoddy, exploitative framework embracing the aforementioned dens of iniquity.

But getting back to the gamesmanship - First night, play blackjack, lose sixty bucks. Pretty much my standard gambling special - Down sixty off the bat. Sometimes, it's sixty in the first moments of the night, breaking the once taut hymen of victory with the casual disregard of one reckless with hope. Sometimes (fortunately) it ends as just Down Sixty. This night was no exception, so I cut my losses and listlessly slept off the gluttony of a company paid meal.

Second day, no dismay, I always say. Following the dubious day of loss, I approached the Craps table, and through the rolling perspicacity expressed by a particularly unsavory appearing moustached man, (not pictured) I got back onto the right side of the night, and emerged, twelve dollars richer, in both wallet and spirit, bringing me back to a net total of MINUS FORTY EIGHT.

The final night, bleary eyed, but full of youthful vim and vigor, I approached the Roulette Table, 22 oz Coors Light Can in hand, and knew my destiny: $1.00 Minimum Roulette, bitches.

Suffice to say, The number 11 did me right. As did the first 12, and the middle third. And I walked away from that table with $66 more than I started with, bringing me to a net total of PLUS EIGHTEEN ($18)!!!! With that, not desiring to inflict too large a deficit into the impoverished Reno economy, I fled the premises...

.. Straight to the Grizzly Maze! With Timmy the Fox! And Chocolate, the Bear!

You know, ever since I saw Grizzly Man, there's one constant thought in my mind: Timothy Treadwell Fucking Rules. I don't care what the fuck you could possible say bad about him: He got in a fucking tent and lived on a veritable island, doing whatever the fuck he wanted, believing his own fantasy, and ultimately doing good in his own way, communing with Bears. He probably knew more and related better to that animal than any man before or after possibly could. Sure, he's got that "I just might have taken too much acid back in the day and although I have it 81% together, there's this lingering 19% part of me that is UTTER BATSHIT, watch me eat this pile of Bear Shit!" thing going on, but all in all, I feel the power of good flowing through him.

And that, dear Reader, is Reno, Nevada. Nice mountains, Lake Tahoe nearby, beautiful scenery, Emus, ducks, that whole lump of shit. 19% Vegas, 41% Central City/Blackhawk, 24% Atlantic City, and 16% Cow Chip. But with a river of good feeling and love flowing right on through.


Blogger Virgle Kent said...

so what up with the females. Was there hot pink just lining up the streets. I would have done the trip up "Leaving Las Vegas style" and spent that $78 on some legal pink.


Blogger David said...


Fortunately for the whores of Reno, I still maintain my 100% record of never paying for it.

Anonymous melina said...

Wait, *really* only had $18 to spend on a 'ho, so no wonder you fled...

Excellent gambling recap...I've been to Reno once in 1982. It was sunny and freeeeeezing cold in January.

The pic of the snow in Reno looks like you are looking out of some Russian gulag! What ARE those "towers" in the background?


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