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We’re Supposed To Be Out Here Robbin’…You Dumb Fuckin’ Heeb

The parking garage was fucked up, photographed the level to find our way back,walked into the place with cash and a gash, hit up the pisser, roulette, technically  Russian Roulette for me, (text my buddy that joke today and I got no response back), drinks, , Native American mannequins and a basket of plastic maize equals a museum, The Shining casino, bar top touch screen black jack, drinks, penny slots, drinks, quarter slots, drinks, where are the twenty dollar slots, drinks, back to the roulette, no more drinks, 1:00 AM shut off is bush league, ah, the holy grail, one hundred dollar slots, a moment of reason quickly pooh-poohed, wait…that’s it, pisser, back to Hampton Club for more defeat, perhaps one hundred dollar slots was not the most sound choice, no we don’t want a frappe or strawberry shake, what am I? five, the decision to rally at the roulette tables for a triumphant return to the Hampton Club, it’s an up and down, the tubby wearing a nice Rolex with 500 dollar chips is in and is out in ten minutes and pudges away, we shortly thereafter do our own walk away with nothing, we should’ve rolled that fatso for his watch and chips, where did we park, lost in the casino…again, valet giving directions has an air of disapproval, we find our exit, discussion of hundred dollar slots being a mother fucker, whores, whoring, comedians (love Nick Di Paolo), inconvenient weddings, bullshit friendships,  the Anthony Cumia firing, remembering O&A bits from the WAAF days, Real Rock TV and perhaps still having the prank call CD somewhere.

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