Snake Eyes

A 33-1 bet on the crap table.

Sucker bet.

But damned if I don’t go there as soon as I am up a few thousand.

“Hi-Lo for a hundred each.”

I live on house money, so I play with the highest odds the house provides. The casino I hit in Toledo, Ohio allowed 10x odds.

Loved it.

Timing.

When do you go “down on your place bets?”

Here is my dream sequence that actually played out several times over my five-year stint in Las Vegas:

Rule#1 (actually the ONLY rule)—If you win or lose, I don’t want to hear it.

I always recognized my crazy ability to leave a crap table in better financial stead than when I arrived as the pure luck it is.

I saw a lot of “system” players lose their cash, women, and homes.

You either have it or you don’t.

I have it.

Because I know when to walk away.

I start out with a 200.00 Pass Line.

Numbers.

I am looking for a sequence of eight to ten rolls of the dice before the roller ends it with a seven. Any more rolls than that and I can make some decent money. The key is pressing up everything in your sequence and the most important thing of all?

Timing.

Pull any place bets you have on the line before all bets are lost to a seven-out.

If you are able to place down a sizeable wager, place a Come bet when you either get 1- a bad feeling, or 2- some dumbass messing with the Crap God Karma.

Gamblers almost enjoy money that they did not lose as much as money they won.

Almost.

I met this psychotic wild-haired bitch from Hell at a casino lounge where I was taking a break from my chef’s duties. She had jet-black hair. I used to think I had jet-black hair until I met her. She also had olive Italian skin. Oh yeah, corny and trite though it may be, she had a body that would stop a clock.

In a good way.

The very last thing I needed in my life was trouble with another girl. I don’t care how hot her body was. (That last part is an untruth).

I invited her home.

She endured me for about five months.

I met the next girl who would move in with me at a 24-hour fine-dining restaurant in Vegas.

She was perfect:

Six-feet tall, blonde-hair, blue eyes, funny, and intelligent.

Perfect.

Oh yeah, and a killer body. (Like anyone believes that is the last thing on the checklist).

I was making bank as an Executive Chef, she was banking bigtime as a Baccarat dealer at Caesar’s Palace.

She outgrew me in six months.

In all these years, I have never returned to the city that built me up and broke me down.

Several times.

With all the crazy shit I put myself through, the fact that I am sitting here, blasting away at some Pineapple Kush, and writing this blog is absolute proof there is a God.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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