Crossing the casino floor (I’m legally prevented from saying which one by a NDA so profound I can’t even comment if it’s on this planet, let alone something as simple as it’s name) is like wandering through a menagerie of Darwinism (indeed, and participants in the Darwin Awards).
Though the dude sucking back the eighteen pound hamburger pictured above has never hopped on his electrified fat-mobile and zoomed through the double-wide front doors to drop a few bucks before eating himself into a grease-coma, more than a few of our ‘guests’ (we don’t call them customers because apparently they feel better about being fist-fucked over impossible odds than if we called them ‘marks’, ‘shills’ and ‘rubes’) are surely competing with him for the last chicken-fried french fry.
Truly. It’s like they all sat around the picnic bench in their living rooms and themselves a meeting, of which the primary question was ‘How fat can we get and still be in public without being assaulted by ivory whalers?’. Then, over a meal of KFC skin and liquified Krispy Kreme shakes, they slowly work their way towards an answer, much like the Ents in Lord of the Rings; no answer is ever come to quickly because, well, the only thing they’ll do quickly is make a grab for that last bit of deep-fried cheese.
The answer is very very big.
So big, in fact, that they can’t use the slot machines properly. This is more of an achievement than you might imagine, especially since they’re constructed in such a way as to encourage anybody (including people with walkers) to wander up and steadily lose their life savings to a machine that will, from time to time, proclaim ‘Ma, you have the purtiest tooth in the trailer park’ (this is absolutely true, there is a slot machine that makes this, and other noises).
The chairs are neither constructed for nor intended to contain the weight of people who put you in mind of slow moving herds of four-footed stomachs. This has led to various bits of insanity (at least until the leather bucket recliners are installed … you know, the ones with the colostomy insert and the panic button that releases a few pounds of purified starch when hammered on by the scratching stick); they sort of park their fat-mobiles at an oblique angle to the machine and, if they are able, heave themselves bodily at their penny slot seat and wait until the world stops spinning before commencing in the ultimate expression of Pavlovian responses. If they’re not capable, they teeter ever so precariously on the edge of said lard-mover, totally defying Newton and giving the security guys (who are also First Aid attendants) a screaming case of the heebie-jeebies.
Would you wanna mouth to mouth that, or have to roll it over? Fat spreads out on when it’s on the ground, you know. Where do you put your hands? Do you just … grab hold and pretend you’re playing football? With a soggy metric ton pigskin? God forbid they have to go down there and administer the breath of life and find a fucking deep-fried turkey husk stuck to a back molar. I honestly think I’d rather be charged with manslaughter (if you read that right, it comes out as mans laughter, which always makes me kinda wonder) than risk that kind of creeping horror.
And it’s not just the morbidly obese that come and hang out in the casino, either. Oh no, that would be too simple, too … not as creepy.
Never in my life have I seen such a profound accumulation of no-chins, bird-eyes, pointy-heads, funny walks, indeterminate genders (and not just the usual man, woman and both, but some kind of weirdly creepy one-minute-man-next-minute-woman depending on the light), and crazy talkin’ to themselves weirdos. They sit cheek by jowl by feather with each other on chairs that are not designed to be comfortable for hours on end, and I wonder to myself if they’re thinking (independently, of course) ‘God, the person next to me is a fucking weirdo’. There is such an astonishing amount of strangeness inside the casino that Mr. Ringling himself would doff his hat, hold it to his chest and say ‘Good job, sir, you have a circus far in surpass of my own’ and bugger off to the nearest McDonald’s.
There are normal people who come to the casino
You might think I’m talking about the people who work there, but since I work there, I can tell you, not all of us are sane.
No, the norms who come by the casino are the ones who’re dropping off or picking up friends, family and/or relatives. They’re the ones who don’t come in. They roll through the casino parking lot at three or four miles an hour, pop open the passenger door and either kick their co-pilot out or motion frantically for the person they’ve come for to hop in; stopping practically guarantees one of the gamblers smoking in their protected areas will come out and discourse at great length on things no sane person cares about in some kind of vaguely formed half-language based on the odds of gambling.
I work there because it’s the only place I’ve found so far that gives me both the opportunity to work ridiculously hard (which is more often than you might imagine) and to catch a few z’s without running the risk of being dismissed for absolute laziness.
I often wonderd what happend to William (Refrigerater) Perry after he was deemd unsafe for the NFL because of to many hamburgers.
Holy Crap! I think I ought to get a gold star just for reading that entire entry. I was with him at the beginning but got lost in mid-rant. What is he so angry about? All I can say is, “That mother fucker is fat-and stupid”! An 18# burger is a heart attack waiting to happen.
Other than the burger and the gambling, how is this any different from Dave’s Starbucks?
I dunno, this big boy has his hands around it pretty good but his mouth doesn’t look like it could even make a dent in it… :wtf:
Sounds like a great place to people watch if you don’t get nauseated easily. 😛
[quote comment=”412799″]I dunno, this big boy has his hands around it pretty good but his mouth doesn’t look like it could even make a dent in it… :wtf:
Sounds like a great place to people watch if you don’t get nauseated easily.
:P[/quote]
Now AnnieB, why the devil would you want to watch people like that when you
can catch some real specimens at the Repub. convention coverage? 🙄 👿 :kiss: 😮
Something about a Zilla Girl talking about wrapping hands around a big piece of meat with a mouth that looks like it couldn’t make a dent in it?!?!? WOW! :wang: 😉
As far as the Unibomber Manifesto reprinted above, I wondered what happened to Brad K. 😀
With luck that dude will be taking a dirt nap by the time he’s fourty.No health insurance to pay and the only real problem is a 100 cubic foot coffin
Bad day at the office? Sounds like a hell of a place work. Watch the freaks, take a nap, and a paycheck too. Is there any sort of, shall we say, different people that you can tolerate?
oh yeah, no problems there. most of the people who come there are more than all right, they’re downright pleasant to deal with. i just can’t imagine spending 8 or more hours a day there without getting a paycheck; some of the folks who play the slots are there for more than that, which happens more often than not. i didn’t even bring up that more than a dozen chairs had to be taken off the floor because someone couldn’t spare the time to leave the floor, thinking instead that it would be okay to piddle their way to freedom of bladder problems.
i actually enjoy my job quite a bit. the above rant is pretty much a good indicator why, after 10 years of retail, i now work back of house.
18 pound burger? No thanks. 18 pound sausage? Now that’s a challenge! 😛 :wang:
[quote comment=”412890″]oh yeah, no problems there. most of the people who come there are more than all right, they’re downright pleasant to deal with. i just can’t imagine spending 8 or more hours a day there without getting a paycheck; some of the folks who play the slots are there for more than that, which happens more often than not. i didn’t even bring up that more than a dozen chairs had to be taken off the floor because someone couldn’t spare the time to leave the floor, thinking instead that it would be okay to piddle their way to freedom of bladder problems.
i actually enjoy my job quite a bit. the above rant is pretty much a good indicator why, after 10 years of retail, i now work back of house.[/quote]
Well, sometimes ya just gotta get shit off your chest. Otherwise you will end up peeing in in your chair and eating a Bucket ‘O’ Fried Lard.
[quote comment=”412863″]Now AnnieB, why the devil would you want to watch people like that when you
can catch some real specimens at the Repub. convention coverage? 🙄 👿 :kiss: :-o[/quote]
real specimens of what???? :puke:
[quote comment=”412863″]Now AnnieB, why the devil would you want to watch people like that when you
can catch some real specimens at the Repub. convention coverage? 🙄 👿 :kiss: :-o[/quote]
real specimens of what???? :puke:
I head an echo. 😐
[quote comment=”413249″]I head an echo. :-|[/quote]
Head, did somebody say head? 😛
I think that was a Freudian slit, Annie……er, I mean slip of course.
hey michael jackson is dating pam anderson. just thought i’d let you know. :gay:
Did that burger come with large fries or just medium?
[quote comment=”413320″]I think that was a Freudian slit, Annie……er, I mean slip of course.[/quote]
God, that was an embarrassingly loud laugh I just had! Thanks, good one, I see you’re at the top of your… game? 😛
[quote comment=”413349″]Did that burger come with large fries or just medium?[/quote]
It also came with a Diet Coke. Wouldn’t want to overdo the calorie intake.
damn, you’ve wasted too many hours obsessing over freaks. fucking impressive though. :wtf:
not liking all the fat jokes, dave, have to take a pass reading this one 🙁
Call me a rube, call me a mark – I’ll be insulted.
Call me a shill, and I’ll say, “Yeah, I’ve done that.”
I do not think that word means what you think it means.
-long ago Carnie
well, queen rosebud, its all good … bein’ a bigger fella myself i’ve learned to take the good with the bad and have given myself a pass on making mock … i like to laugh at myself just as much as at other people. if i offended, i apoligize.
To Queen Rosebud and Lee Bond: I’m not exactly fond of ugly people jokes, but I, myself, have made “Sarah Jessica Parker has a horse face” type jokes.
I’m so ugly, when I was born, the Doctor looked at me, then my mom and said, “I’m going to have to charge you extra for this delivery.” 😮 😆 😀
I only have three things to say…..
One….I’m a bigger guy myself and I laugh at this because I’ve been to some casinos and see these same pieces of work. I’m glad I can get from one place to another on my own power, as opposed to feeling like a glacier had to move first to get me there, not in speed, but in size…..
Two….Guy with the burger. This is one big burger I wouldn’t even touch. There is only one big hunk of meat I deal with and it’s only if someone isn’t TCB for me. Speaking of which, Meagan, I might need some assistance soon and you might bring extra help, cause sometimes 2 hands ain’t enough…..
Three….I don’t know why, but for some weird reason, I see this guy and am reminded of a certain dickhead post…..
👿
[quote comment=”412698″]I often wonderd what happend to William (Refrigerater) Perry after he was deemd unsafe for the NFL because of to many hamburgers.[/quote]
Is that because of his fat body, or the slippery fat oozing out of every pore?
It wouldn’t happened to have been a NJ based casino, now, would it?
actually, no, it’s all the hell way up here in canadia. hell, it’s not even a real casino in my opinion. sure we got the tables and slots and shows and stuff, but … it’s not vegas. Hell, it ain’t even reno. or one of those places that have slot machines and gas pumps. but whatever, it pays the bills 😀