Wednesday night, my brother was in town for work so we met for a few beers. Eventually we wound up at the casino, because the guys he was in town wanted to go gamble. I enjoyed the cheap beers and didn't gamble...until I'd have enough of the cheap beers that it sounded like a great idea to play blackjack. After a few beers blackjack always sounds like a great idea. This is the problem with putting back a few beers at the casino.
As you know, I'm two weeks into the growth history of my Sad Beard, and its looking pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. But I sat down at a blackjack table next to a dude with a heinously spectacular beard -- I'm guessing it hadn't been trimmed in six months -- and I was immediately put to shame by his sense of Mountain Style. This thing was long, it was curly in parts, gnarled in others...in other words, great stuff in a Grizzly Adams sort of way. We struck up a conversation between hands, and he told me that it had actually been seven months since his last trim.
"My buddy here shaves his off in the summer, but come January his'll be good and long too. He gots two security IDs for work, a summer ID and a winter ID. Oe with his long hair and beard and one with short hair and no beard."
Blink. Blink. Wow, that's unbelievably awesome. TWO security clearance ID's, one for summer and one for winter? I don't know how to continue from this. Oh wait, yes I do.
After a bunch of hands -- about a half-hours worth, give or take an hour -- I was basically even money-wise. I won a couple in row, lost a few, won a few, and was just a few bucks in the hole. Less than the cost of a Big Mac, I'll put it that way. So no big deal.
The next hand, unfortunately, Vintage Max emerged. The Bad Ass Max who likes to do stupid things because they seem macho. The Bad Ass Max who does things that make Daytime Max pissed off the next day. I hate Vintage Max.
Vintage Bad Ass Max hit on 18.
Seriously, he HIT ON 18. When the house had 11.
This is seriously stupid behavior.
But you know what? Vintage Bad Ass Max was dealt a three. Blackjack. Blackjack? Blackjack! Yes! You bet! F'n A! Ahahahaha! And wouldn't you know it, the dealer dealt himself an eight, meaning I would have lost if I'd held. My winnings: $40 on one hand, which is not too bad!
I cashed out, jumped on my phone to tell the Facebook Universe of my good fortune, and took my winnings outside before I was tempted to lose them on the next hand. $40 ain't a lot, but its not chump change either. Its a few beers. Or a few dozen, depending on where you choose to drink. Any way you dissect it, good times.
You bet.
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