In which I go on a wild little trip!

On St. Pat’s we got all riled up and decided for no good reason whatsoever to go to the casino. It’s less than an hour away, and we had sober drivers, so off we went — at one-thirty in the morning! It was a strange idea because none of us could really afford to gamble, but we went anyway.

I was good and spent only ten dollars ($5 in penny slots, and $5 worth of cocktails). Baby Girl & Core played some slots and maybe a little blackjack. Two of our party blew their gambling budgets in about two hours and took off. The final member of our party gambled all night and got the rest of us a comped room. (Well, mostly comped. I think she had to pay $40 for it.) We got back to Fairfield around three on Sunday afternoon, completely shagged out.

My head kept making that casino noise until I went to bed last night. You know, the sound of two thousand slot machines dinging? That eager, never-ending hum? It’s probably what the primal sound sounds like. (Heh. Enlightenment: an eternity’s worth of loose slots!)

In other news interesting only to myself, last night the curse arrived in force, and today I feel like my guts are falling out. At least my hair’s a cool color!