I promised Wanda probably a week ago that I'd write a new blog, but then promptly forgot in the whirlwind of coffee aroma and online scrabble. Shoot.
Last weekend we went to Turtle Lake for Polkey's birthday. We decided on that casino for the sole reason that they serve alcohol, but I think our reasoning was misguided and I doubt that I'll patronize that place again. Not because we were treated poorly or anything, actually the people were really nice. This one guy we were playing blackjack with actually made a sort of affirming, "I know you're all lesbians and I'm okay with it" joke, so that ruled. Especially considering his Cabela's hat and marlboro reds. Not usually the kind of guys that take a liking to me...
Anyways, the only reason that Turtle Lake is a ridiculous place to travel is that its less than half the size of Mystic Lake and is farther away. Granted, it has craps and roulette while Mystic does not, but I'm sort of a die hard blackjack gal anyways so it makes little difference. I did, however, call the bet on the first roulette number that we saw, so I made a 35-1 return on my first action at the casino. So, you know, that ruled.
So you all know that I get obsessed with playing things correctly, so all week before we were going to go I read blackjack strategy books trying to get the exact balance between smart betting and playing the odds. I even handmade a chart which I synthesized from about 10 charts that are available, making the one TRUE strategy chart that I will stick with from now on. It seemed to work pretty well once we got there, as all of us were up at least double at some point. Sadly, we did not follow the one rule that EVERY strategy book pretty much plasters on its cover: leave when you're ahead. I still made a little money in the end, but jeez could I have made out like a bandit if I was just a bit more frugal.
In that same obsessive vein, I've become obsessed with the idea of playing golf. Most of you know that I enjoy really anything that makes a person pretentious or high brow, so I feel like golf and I would be great friends. This obsession is compounded by the fact that I don't have golf clubs, so I don't have to actually do anything except dream about how great a golfer I would be if only I got to practice.
I'm so weird.
I did have biscuits and gravy at the Louisiana Cafe before we left for the casino, and while they were good, they're certainly nothing to write home about (especially to my home, where the biscuits and gravy made by my mom and grandma would win any contest in which they were entered, hands down). Still, worth ordering again if you're ever in the mood for 28 grams of fat in one sitting.
Okay, I'm going to research some stuff now.