broken treadmills and roulette wheels

Last night our treadmill died toward the end of Jason’s 4-mile run. I surprised myself by actually being sad about it rather then experiencing my expected reaction of dancing joyously while stuffing myself with Twinkies (they’re endangered, you know). Miraculously, the treadmill is still under the extended warranty we purchased, and I hope we can get it repaired (for free) before Jason’s nervous twitching over not being able to exercise gets any worse.

Last weekend, Jason and I took our annual trip to a casino in Wisconsin, which is the nearest place we can play roulette. We took Friday off and boarded Shorty (the lady there felt so sorry for my teary-eyed goodbye to him that she hunted me down in the dog food aisle just so she could give me a hug). Then we ran a few errands and came home to pack. The whole time we talked about how much fun this was going to be, how relaxing, how bad Jason was going to feel about losing at cribbage all weekend, etc., etc.

Then we drove to our destination, checked into our hotel, set down our bags in our room and immediately realized we forgot to bring our cribbage board. And our dice. And our cards. And basically everything else we needed to relax.

That was a crappy moment, especially since we realized we had stopped at a grocery store on our way that was conveniently located right next to a Wal-Mart.

So we backtracked 24 miles to that Wal-Mart, found our gaming supplies and ended up having a wonderful dinner at a supper club we always wanted to visit, so it all worked out in the end. (Not so much for Jason, who is currently losing this year’s cribbage tournament by 18 games already.)

For once, this year we both did well at roulette. I came home with the same amount of money I planned on losing, and Jason won $175. Since I forgot to ask his methods (I know he plays 13 and 31 every single time but can’t remember how he selects his other numbers), here’s my system for playing roulette for 3½ hours without losing any money:

1. Sit down at the roulette table five minutes before it is expected to open.

2. Choose the chair nearest to the wheel so you can implement your highly scientific method of picking numbers.

3. Exchange the $100 you brought (all from the spare change jar) for chips.

4. Promptly lose most of your chips in less than an hour.

5. Panic.

6. Cash in your emergency $40 you brought just for this scenario.

7. Decide that your highly scientific method of playing the numbers near the last number called and directly across from the last number called is not working.

8. Tell this to your husband, who is $90 ahead but does not want you to call attention to this fact because he is highly superstitious.

9. Listen as husband explains that he only plays numbers that are black.

10. Try this intriguing tactic.

11. Win.

12. Win again.

13. Win a third time in a row. (All on number 17.)

14. Feel vaguely like you’re cheating since it seems like there’s fewer numbers to worry about now.

15. Continue to bet on the black numbers nearest to the last winning number, as well as one or two black numbers directly across the wheel from the last winning number.

16. Win some more. This is fun!

17. Look meaningfully at husband’s growing stack of chips, while he begs you with his eyes not to jinx him, for the love of God!

18. Win some more.

19. Realize you’re both hungry and it’s a good time to quit.

20. Cash out with $140 while your husband cashes out with $275.

21. Celebrate by overindulging at the buffet.

22. Work off those extra calories by sitting in the hot tub.

5 thoughts on “broken treadmills and roulette wheels

  1. We’re going to board our kitty for the first time ever in a couple weeks. I’m scared that I might freak out unnecessarily at the vet’s when I drop her off!

  2. Man, that sounds fun, minus the return trip to Wal Mart. Ah, hot tubs, drinking… so many fun things forbidden for another fourish months.
    I’m pretty sure it’s safe to gamble in any trimester, though, right? :) Physically, anyways?