I am bored out of my gourd. Tomorrow I won’t be bored because I will be searching for shelter and a friendly face for my daughter and I. I just can’t be fucked doing anything right now I can’t find the motivation or the energy. If it is not one thing its another and soon enough my time on this planet is going to be over and what a shitty last few years it has been. Nothing but fizzled connections, psycho girls, insane highs and soul depleting lows. God, I want my life to be about more than this. I try to take comfort in the fact that I have taken on solo parental duties but really and truly I’m not doing the job I could be doing because I just don’t have the resources do it. One thing has led to another to get me where I am right now and I’m so fucking sick of flailing away. I sound like a broken record. My last several posts have been so shitty but the way I’m feeling right now I don’t know if there is ever going to be a new amazing post or story. I’ve got my bratty but sweet kid pestering the holy living goddamn fuck out of me in this room right now. Dadddddeeeeeeeeeee, Dadas wanna go on rockabye. A, S, D, brown back as she is picking at my hair and leaning against me always constantly never ending just climbing and touching and jumping and pulling on me and patting me and right now she just said Dada dada dada dada dada dada dada dada dada. Yes its amazing but Jesus Christ I need a fucking break. We are going right into the crapper because I can’t fucking escape. I can’t leave the room. I’ve been stuck with her for days upon days and I am starting to go a little bit nuts. Pan Pan Pan Pan hold up my nana my nana dada dada dada my pan pan pan. You should just see the state of this room right now. I admit defeat I cannot keep up with this fucking kid. And here she comes again picking at my hair as I sit on the end of the bed typing this like she is a mamma bear or some shit and then another tight hug and offer for a kiss at least my six thousandth hug of the day while HBO keeps playing the fucking same episode of Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel, the Leftovers, Unbroken which is a shitty fucking movie and some other stupid ass shit. Its either that or never ending NCIS. I can’t even take my daughter for a walk without a leash on because we are staying on PCH across the street from the beach and there are millions of cars and she has about as much common sense as a two year old. And here goes the end of another whining pussy ass blog post. Kill me now.
I would like to set the record straight. Last night I reported that a friend of mine, Heather Nicholson, had died a few months back of a drug overdose. It turns out that I was wrong about that. My dear friend Amy Schneider informed me that Heather died due to complications from pneumonia and a blood infection and she had been getting her life together when she got sick. It makes me sad that she didn’t get the chance to fully turn it all around but it also makes me happy that she went out on a positive note. Rest in Peace Heather Nicholson.
.lots of details…so many nuances plus subtle underplay
Sublime its unreal there are things to talk about I need someone who has a care in their heart for me like a friend who passed recently
From this world for sure to where Darin please universal God of supreme intelligence
The one with a plan but are we so many pieces of ash? Probably too inconsequential to worry about. Not important except to ourselves.
Memories fade. In 200 years nobody will say my name. But I won’t know it so that is a blessing. And if I do know it that means we live on and I fight on not as a bug.
Everybody knows you are the shittiest casino. Even though its general knowledge that you live off of the lifeblood of degenerate gamblers I don’t think what I’m adding in this article is generally well known. For one thing they tell you to use your players card every time you play. Well I’m here to tell you right now that if you do that and you tend to gamble for many hours a day many days in a row and you accumulate 1.1 million tiers in a very short period of time they will lie and say you cheated. They are liars. Flat out they are fucking arrogant asshole liars. You can’t call it slander if it is true. This is true. Pechanga security guard rent a dick detectives are lame ass liars with puffed up like a peacock opinions of themselves. They enjoy making the customers feel uncomfortable . If you are tired at Pechanga you better not close your eyes or you will be surrounded by assholes asking you if you are okay and violating your rights left and right. That sounds awesome as heck. I’m talking about that little pun about violating your rights left and right. Oh yeah did I tell you that I’m over you Pechanga? I’m not even going to tell you how bitter I was (and apparently there is quite a bit o f residual anger as well) but suffice to say I was bitter as fuck when I got unceremoniously defrocked as Pechanga’s celebrity degenerate gambler a couple weeks ago. Today, as I sit in my suite on the 18th floor of Harrah’s, reveling in my Diamond Status that I achieved in two days, I must admit that I feel a certain sense of redemption in my own head. Redemption may not be a good word because I don’t think I did anything wrong that I needed to redeem myself for. At least not in the eyes of Pechanga because the dick tater ship that makes up their keystone cop detective dickhead force have zero credulity with anyone. Rich or poor, gambler or recreational joker, black or white, its universal knowledge that FUCK you Pechanga. LOL! HOw about that? Suck my fat one you cheap dime store hood! That’s from STand by Me and booting me out was the biggest favor you ever did for me believe that. I was mesmerized by Indian voodoo and bought into the promise that is not even real. The promise that you are treasured and we really care about you individual gambler. Fuck that. YOu should see what the reasons they are giving for booting people out for life from that shit hole. How about parking in the red card parking lot when you aren’t a red card? I know someone banned for life for that. Countless people have been sent packing for life for talking to someone who was found to be in possession of any drugs. I know I sound like a fucking moron but I can’t help it because I fucking hate those Motherless soulless Nazi Indian motherfuckers. They Lie Cheat and Steal and rob motherfuckers blind and they tried to say that it was ME that is the fraudulent fucking cheater. Fuck you Pechanga. Honestly you are so going to have to deal with the nuisance that I am going to create for you on every single possible review board or anything public that I can link to you and get you negative publicity. Because you deserve if you fucking bastards. Detective John and that baldheaded moron that is Cantalopian or some shit like that who works at nights and mad dogs everybody and especially that black dude who is the biggest fucking asshole wanna be dickhead fucking asshole rude bitch ass piece of scowling shit I have ever seen in my life. Going up to people who have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in your money tree soul pit dank slice of hell casino and who are sitting in the high limits room and NOT feeding hundred dollar bill after hundred dollar bill in the fucking slots machines thief ass cheating slots for more than one fucking minute straight and telling them if they are not going to be playing that they have to take their shows on the road out the door to the skid row section of the casino. Can you imagine that? I have witnessed it dozens of times its such as farce. They are rude offensive ignorant arrogant falsely entitled assholes and they can fuck right off. Black man and cantaloupe man and detective john you guys are the worst of the worst and literally I hope you all die today. Because you suck and you couldn’t give a fuck less what effects you are having on the lives of the people that you make up lies about at the direction of your white man hating Indian bosses. Straight the fuck up. Fuck you Pechanga. I hope this sounds like a rant and the ravings of a mad man. I might as well live up to some semblance of the negative self image you attempted to fabricate for me and make me emulate through your deceitful faggotry. LOL. Even though I hate you and I wish nothing but the failure of your business and the cancer of your security staff still I have to forgive you at the end of the day. What is the point of hating an entity without a soul and completely devoid of a conscience or anything remotely resembling good things? There is not a point. I am so angry at them and I mean really angry. I gave up so many things that I should have never given up to begin with and they fucked me under and made me look even worse than I already looked to important people in my life because they made all those days and days and days and nights endless nights and millions of pushes of those buttons and stress beyond belief all for nothing. Absolutely nothing. Ended up with nothing for my 1.1 million tier points. How do I explain that to my daughter? I don’t. I cant. fuck you Pechanga. for that fuck you. but hey good luck in your future endeavours. I probably won’t even bother wasting any more energy writing to you and about you. But deep down you fucking suck and I fucking hate you.
I’m not sure the National Indian Gaming Commission is going to be getting involved in this situation but I definitely sent them a copy of this document. I also sent it to all of the radio, television and newspaper email addresses that I could find on the internet. I’m not even sure how many of the emails are still valid but I’m not just going to sit around and take this shit. Pechanga totally did me wrong. They kicked me out for a reason that is not valid and in fact its total bullshit. I have to at least fucking try to fight back or else how can I ever look anybody in the eye and say that I’m a man who fights for his rights? You might find the following document somewhat boring but hey at least I have this forum to air my views and my dirty laundry and my personal humiliations and that ought to make most of the Anthony Mandich haters that exist out there pretty god damned happy.
Events Leading to the Lifetime Ban of Anthony Mandich #1515850 from Pechanga Casino
On Saturday, May 9th, 2015 as I came down the elevator from the 7th floor with my daughter, her mother and my friend Nichole, I was approached by a detective employed by Pechanga and told that he needed to talk to me. There was another security guard with him and he pointed to a spot several feet away from the elevator where we could talk. I saw some paperwork in the detective’s hand and it appeared to be official. The detective’s name is John I believe. I’m not sure of his last name. I am familiar with him however and I could tell that this was something serious because his usual friendly demeanor was gone. In the past he had always been nice to me and we always made it a point upon seeing each other to stop and say hi and shake hands etc. Today however, Detective John was brusque, even rude, and not forthcoming with any hint of the nice guy I had always been happy to see in my travels through the casino. The two of them quickly explained that I was being issued a lifetime ban from Pechanga Resort and Casino but they wouldn’t tell me why. All they would say is that it had to do with fraudulent activity on my account. I was flabbergasted to put it mildly.
Up to this point, I had been treated as a welcome guest by nearly everyone I came into contact with at Pechanga and this cold, unfriendly treatment was an unwelcome departure from the usual pleasant nature of all of my encounters with Pechanga’s staff. Before being approached by Detective John I had been just about to check into a suite for a three day stay with my daughter and girlfriend. Instead, I was told that I had to leave the property immediately and if I ever returned, the sheriff’s department would be called and I would be immediately arrested. They also told me that I had been deemed undesirable. I tried again to get an explanation for this rude treatment and was told in a harsh tone that he didn’t have to tell me anything, that I didn’t deserve to know why and if I wanted any more information that I could write a letter to someone on the council. At that point I made one last attempt to appeal to Detective John’s sense of decency on a personal level by asking him if I could talk to him for a minute and making it plain that I meant that I wanted to talk to him one on one. He said I could talk to him right there. I told him that I thought he and I had always enjoyed a good working relationship and that I didn’t understand the reason for this attitude and didn’t understand why I wasn’t even allowed to be told why this humiliating and very public spectacle was taking place. He was having none of it however. It is causing my cheeks to flush red right now as I type this because of the anger and shame I feel at being unceremoniously expelled from the grounds of the casino without even an explanation as to what the reasons were.
Keep in mind that it was 1:00 p.m. on a Saturday, the day before Mother’s Day and the lobby was packed with patrons checking in and out and this whole process was done right in front of everyone. Detective John made a point out of getting on his radio and announcing that the restriction was being given right there and that I would be departing from the hotel valet. I am pretty well known at Pechanga by customers and employees especially where this whole situation went down by the hotel check in. It was incredibly humiliating to see everyone staring at me and wondering what I did wrong to warrant such incredibly rude treatment. I am a red card player at Pechanga which is the highest level you can reach as a player and thus was used to being treated almost deferentially. My red card status combined with my friendly personality had made it possible for me to become close to many of the people who worked at the café, at the hotel front desk, at the bell desk and at casino valet. The public nature of my expulsion made it clear to all of these people that I was suddenly persona non grata and it felt terribly embarrassing to be treated like this without explanation.
Overnight it seems, I had gone from treasured customer to pariah and the detectives and security staff made it their business to make sure that the whole thing went down in as humiliating a fashion as possible. My face was red with humiliation and I could barely speak. My girlfriend had just gotten her bags from the bell desk and she came up to me after seeing me being escorted to the valet desk by a contingent of detectives and uniformed security staff. She asked me what was wrong and I just said that we had to go immediately. I couldn’t say anything more. It seemed like my voice didn’t work or I couldn’t find the words or something. I was in shock and my cheeks felt like they were on fire. They were so red and flushed that for a minute I thought that I was going to have a heart attack. I have never in my life been subjected to such a public humiliation and I was very hurt and angry because I knew that I had done nothing to warrant such treatment. I did not know or have even an inkling of what they were accusing me of doing but I knew that whatever it was it still did not give them the justification for treating me like that in front of my family.
I was rushed off of the property. Waiting for my car, it dawned on me that I didn’t even have a car seat for my daughter because she had not been with me when I checked in. Her mother had brought her over the day before and had been dropped off by a friend. We had been planning on staying at Pechanga until Tuesday and I was going to get the car seat during that time. I was being threatened with arrest if I didn’t leave the grounds of the casino immediately and so I was forced to have my friend Nichole sit in the back seat with Audrey and drive away with no car seat. Driving a two year old in a vehicle without a car seat is illegal and dangerous and something I would never do in the normal course of life yet I felt so threatened by the treatment I had been subjected to that I did just that, I drove away without my daughter being properly secured in the car and went straight to Walmart to buy a new car seat. I’m mentioning this to show the desperate nature of the situation as it existed in my mind.
I remember thinking even back then that Pechanga had really screwed up because I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong and I truly had no idea why they would want to treat me this way as I was a very good customer who spent thousands of dollars in their machines. As soon as I left and was settled into a room at the Motel 6 in Temecula I got on the phone trying to figure out what had prompted this public ouster. I spoke to a friend who mentioned that some girl named Sylvia Torres, who I barely knew, had also been 86’ed the night before. I didn’t think that the ousters could have been related at that time. I had been staying in a room that was procured by my friend Nela Petrusian as a favor to me and checkout was on Saturday, the same day as my ouster from Pechanga. As far as I knew, there was nothing untoward about me staying in the room though. After all, she had offered me the room and added my name to the reservation as well. Still though, I had her call and find out if the room stay had anything to do with the public humiliation I had undergone at the hands of the Pechanga detectives. You have to understand, I was genuinely perplexed. Anybody who knows me would gladly attest to the fact that I treated the Pechanga property and all of the employees with the utmost respect and friendly courtesy. I dealt in cash only so I really didn’t see any possible situation whereby they could possibly come to the conclusion that I had done anything fraudulent.
Nela called Angelica Ochoa, my casino hostess, who I had a very excellent relationship with, and at that time was told that my ouster had nothing whatsoever to do with Nela; that it was somehow linked with the banning of Sylvia Torres the night before. Now I was really in shock. Apparently the casino was in possession of Sylvia’s phone for an hour or so and only gave it back when she stated that she was not leaving the property without it. This was mentioned in relation to the ouster as if it would be a point of contention against myself but this only served to confuse me all the more. I didn’t know Sylvia except in passing, I have never seen her away from Pechanga and I don’t have her telephone number nor have I ever texted or called her for any reason. More and more, my ouster seemed ridiculous and meritless.
I waited until later in the afternoon to call Angelica Ochoa, my hostess. When I spoke to her she seemed resigned to the fact that I was indeed banned and told me there was really nothing at all that she could do about it. She had even been forbidden to speak with me. It is apparent that the tactic used by Pechanga in these matters is to kick someone out, making the reasoning for it as vague as possible, lumping people into the category of undesirable and then cutting them off from all communication and thus powerless to change the verdict. If a person is unaware of the charges against them and told the only way they can find out is to send a letter to the tribal council, it makes defending oneself a virtual impossibility and indeed that is exactly what it is. To call this process unfair is an understatement. According to Angelica Ochoa, the specific reason for my banishment from Pechanga has to do with my rewards club account. Apparently, casino officials were under the impression that I had fraudulently obtained my red card status by making multiple reprints of my players card and passing them off to confederates and having them play with my card in their machines or just purposely putting cards into machines and hoping people playing the machines would not notice my card was in the machine thereby earning me tier points to which I was not entitled.
Finally I had a reason for this humiliating ban and what a ridiculous reason it was. A couple of days prior to my ouster, I had been playing the $25 slots in the high limits room with my friend Darren Correll. I wasn’t winning in there so I decided to go play Aztec Temple outside of the high limits room. Apparently I left my card in the machine when I left. This is something that often happened and it was no big deal to me because I always had a couple of copies of my card on hand. I could never seem to hang on to my card and it seemed like I was always leaving it in machines by accident. This is not something out of the ordinary by the way. I have spoken to several people since I was ousted who stated that they get copies of their players card made every time they went to the casino. The circumstances that led to these charges being leveled against me specifically were brought about by a couple of different coincidental things that happened as well as a couple of other factors that were explainable but were never brought up so the opportunity to explain them never came about. Basically these are the reasons for the belief that I had fabricated my red card status:
- The machine that I had been playing on in the high limits room when I was playing with my friend Darren Correll was jackpotted a few minutes after I walked away from it. Darren hit the jackpot and I remember the occasion because I had come back into the high limits room to check in with Darren and he told me that he had hit a jackpot and that they had started to write it up as mine. We both laughed it off as inconsequential because obviously they knew that Darren had actually won the jackpot and they should just disregard the fact that my card was in the machine. This was not a deliberate action and I would be willing to testify under oath that I have never asked anybody to play with my card in their machine in an effort to gain more points for my own account.
- The fact that I had accumulated over one million tier points since January, 2015, is a major reason why they believe that I did not earn the points myself. The truth though, which would not be very difficult to verify, is that I did earn all of those points myself. There are several different ways that they could verify this but in my opinion they didn’t feel like they needed to investigate or verify any of their contentions because nobody was going to have defend the decision or back it up with evidence beyond the circumstantial points that they did use.
3) The fact that I had gotten 80 players cards printed out led them to believe that I had nefarious uses for them such as giving them to confederates to play for me when the truth of the matter is much less sinister. The truth of the matter is that I enjoyed talking to the girls that work in the players reward club. They treated me nicely and it was fun going in the platinum/red line and not having to wait like everybody else. It sounds kind of silly but it made me feel important to get those red cards printed out and have the girls tell me what promotions I had coming up etc. I had never gotten cards printed out with the intention of having anyone other than myself use them to rack up tier points.
Even though the burden of proof on matters such as this should be on the prosecution (in this case the casino) it seems like they don’t feel the need to prove anything, instead relying on the broad powers given to them as a sovereign nation and a private business to do shoddy research and come to conclusions that don’t actually fit the facts of the situation. I have done my own research into this matter, in effect doing the evidentiary homework for the casino in an effort to convince them to do the right thing in this case and restore my casino privileges, red card status and all of the benefits that I have earned.
I don’t have access to the video surveillance system but I guarantee that you can pick any playing session in the past five months that I have received tier points for and go to the video from that session and the person you are going to see sitting in the chair playing the machine and racking up those tier points is me.
To back my case up I can provide irrefutable evidence that should go a long way to proving that the tier points on my account belong to me. This is the smoking gun in this case if you want to look at it like that. It is also a factor that I know that they did not take into consideration when they put this case against me or else they would have never actually went through with it.
Starting on March 12th, 2015 and up to the day I was banned May 10th, 2015 I had 86 hand pay jackpots ranging in size between $1,200 and $15,462.50. That is 86 jackpots in 58 days or 1.5 jackpots every single day. Add in the fact that I was at Pechanga playing nearly all day long every day since March 2nd and it is not so hard to believe that I could accumulate so many tier points in such a short period of time.
Here is a table containing the pertinent date from all of the W-2g’s that I received along with the hand pay jackpots from Pechanga in 2015.
|Name||Players#||Last 4 of SS#||Date||Time||Trans #||Amount||Game||Cashier|
I feel that the above table is really all the evidence that I should have to present. If you tally up all of the tier points I earned just during the sessions in which I won jackpots I would imagine that total to be almost a million tier points alone. I don’t have access to that information but given the data contained in that table, it would not be hard to find out exactly how many points were earned during these sessions. It is a shame that I even need to undertake this exercise at all. It sure doesn’t seem fair that I should have to do all of this work just to keep the status that I earned fair and square but if I don’t compile the facts and present them, nobody else is going to do it whether an injustice was committed or not.
In conclusion I would like to be reinstated to the status of red card player with all of the free play, hotel stays, ez-dine credits and other various promotions I was enjoying until Saturday May 10th, 2015 when I was banned for life from Pechanga, an action that was unjustified and unfair and that should be rectified immediately and truth be told I should be apologized to for the humiliating debacle but I won’t be holding my breath waiting for that to take place.
The benefits that I receive include $200 per week free play, which is scheduled to increase to $250 per week starting June 1st, 10 free hotel stays per month, $200 in total ez-dine credits per month, access to the VIP lounge to eat on a daily basis, various promotions including Bellator tickets, visa gift card giveaways, entries for slot tournaments and black jack tournaments and more.
Events Leading to the Lifetime Ban of Anthony Mandich Player#15155850 from Pechanga Casino
Post Script: The fact that I spent all of those jackpots right back into the machines at Pechanga is an overriding factor of why I need to be reinstated. I don’t want all of those hours to have been spent for nothing, just a waste of time and money. Its not right. The benefits I receive from being a red card member were earned through many hours of stressful play and relentlessly feeding the machines and getting my status as high as I could was always a main goal.
Now that is a catchy title if I’ve ever heard one. I’m just sitting here again in my room because I am one broke donkey boy at the minute. Actually I do have twenty dollars I think. But yeah for the most part I am broke. The cootch tobacco story isn’t that interesting either to be honest with you. Quickly…..Clarice who is Avondra’s mother and a huge pain in my ass, bummed a cigarette off of Georgie earlier in my room when we were having dinner and learning the intricacies of Georgie’s latest hustle, selling farm raised earthworms to fishermen and farmers and people who love gardening and thus also love soil which is enhanced greatly by the cast off from worms. I consider Georgie to be my brother in law despite the fact that he was never legally married to my sister Louisa. She never actually divorced her husband Smithy before she died so legally she never became Georgie’s wife. Despite that fact and the fact that the rest of my family apart from myself loathe Georgie. They despise him. Ha ha ha. I just like to rub it in that’s why I am repeating it and stressing this aspect. In a way, I think by stressing the dislike he feels from the rest of the family it makes him more likely to seek my approval in all things so naturally I will still like him and he won’t feel like such a pariah when it comes to thinking about my dead sister Louisa. It’s a whole urban white guilt thing slash reparation for his great great great grandfather allegedly being a slave owner slash reparation for his great great great grand uncle Josiah allegedly being an avid Indian fighter and killer slash reparation for whatever part he may have played in my sister deciding to end her life and jumping off of the Old Talahassee Bridge back in 2006 after seeing the movie Ode To Billy Joe one morning while under the influence of red wine and valium. So I haven’t even seen Georgie since our last caper together a couple of years before when he had the grand idea of taking out all of the copper wire and piping in the granny shack located on the property owned by his granny. The stupid thing that he didn’t tell me as we were stripping away was that his granny’s sister’ s son Tonito lived in the granny shack with his dog Alpo and seventeen kittens. I think the total tally for that caper was $158.34 received (after a 3 day hold initiated by the recycling company) and $1834 owed for repairs to the shack. Before we were even able to receive the lousy $158.34 we had already gotten a bill from his granny’s plumber and electrician as well as caning from his grandmother and our names and pictures posted in the local rag under the headline Wanted With Or Without A Brain. Suffice to say that I thought Georgie was a misguided fuckup for the most part but still a good soul for some reason. I had personally never held him responsible for any of his supposed misdeeds related to his relationship with Louisa. I think a good portion of my empathy for Georgie in this regard is because I grew up with Louisa and I knew only all too well what she was really all about at times. That’s not meant to dishonor the dead in any way and I miss her terribly to this very day but trust me it takes two to tango and Louisa danced the best tango in the Inland Empire if you ask me. She fought like a man, cussed like a sailor, fucked like a beast, smoked crack like Darryl Strawberry and packed the rare combination of a great uppercut and the sharpest tongue I have ever heard, will ever hear, and whatever other dramatic proclamation I can come up with really quickly, under pressure which is none. So I give Georgie the benefit of the doubt on Louisa and keep him close to my heart because I know she wants it that way. Anyways he ended up going to jail over that copper mining incident and I hadn’t seen him since Clarice was maybe 2 months pregnant and our kid Avondra is already two years old so that was a long time ago.
When you are reading these types of introductions to what seem like they are going to be really long drawn out stories and it turns out that the introduction ends up being the longest and most detailed part of the story does that make you mad or does it in reality make you kind of relieved? I’m thinking it should be relieved because I am opening up so many different avenues of thought that if I were to follow each part of the thread to its ultimate conclusion then I would be working on this fucking manuscript as my full time job for the rest of my life.
Dammit….where was I? Oh yeah the cootch tobacco and Georgie’s earthworms. First of all let’s clarify that these are red hybrid earthworms and not the ordinary angleworms most of you have probably seen writhing on your sidewalk after a rain and then drying up and shriveling up when the Africa hot sun comes out twenty minutes later. To make a long story short, with just a modest investment and a little ingenuity and faith and patience it can be a real boost to a man’s wallet this raising of red hybrid earthworms. Also they are a lively and hardy creature, much smarter than angleworms and a prized and much sought after addition to anyone interested in soil that is rich in phosphorus, nitrogen and all of the other ingredients necessary to grow vegetables and flowers and whatever else. And the profit margin when making sales to fishermen is something like a multiple of 17.5 or something in that range. In other words only limited by the literal number of unique fishermen you ship and sell to. Georgie had me in mind for a possible partnership and I also think he wanted to come visit me and hug on me for a while as well as see my kid, smoke some dope, do some casino gambling and show off his girlfriend who far outshines his past two, both of them very nice girls but a little on the thick side and a little on the crazy side. Enough time had passed since Louisa’s death I guess, that Georgie felt he didn’t have to be so respectful and could start dating some good looking pussy. So it was a combination of all this shit that brought Georgie out my way tonight and now lets get to the cootch tobacco which is simply that Clarice bummed a cigarette off of Georgie and ended up leaving it sitting on the bed when she snuck out into the hallway to casually eavesdrop on my conversation with Paula, a dental hygienist from Pasadena with big boobs who had a bit of a crush on me. By leaving her cigarette alone in front of Avondra she was tempting fate because she didn’t realize that I had been training Avondra in the fine art of cigarette shredding since the tender age of six months. It just so happened that Avondra had just gotten out of the bathtub and was standing next to the bed in her birthday suit, still a little damp, when Clarice started her recon mission down the 7th floor hallway to see what dirt she could get on me which is actually none because Paula is a married woman who just wanted to be friends with a good looking bad boy rebel and maybe more than friends but only in her mind. When we returned to the room after I had quickly caught on to Clarice and her shoddy surveillance techniques and put an immediate end to the operation by asking her just what the fuck she was doing standing so close to me in her ninja outfit from last Halloween holding a personal recording device, the type made so famous by President Nixon during the scandal and uproar caused by whatever the hell he did to those people at the Watergate Hotel way back when. I wish I knew more about that story too but I didn’t know more than the rest of the population who were given the basic facts which are: several bad guys posing as gay democrats in town for a rainbow coalition flag raising event and wine tasting at the Watergate Hotel who slipped several roofies and hits of acid to some real conventioneers causing them to have a bad trip and pass out naked on the lawn of the white house which initially was reported as the irresponsible and disrespectful antics of the democrats, the lame duck party in both houses who were apparently so attention starved that they were desperate for interaction and recognition from the press that they got out of control. Anyways it turned out of course that the persons responsible for all of the mayhem were actually Richard “Tricky Dick” Nixon, his wife Pat, and several of his frat brothers from his time spent at Rutgers University in the Sigma Smegma Nu fraternity. Apparently some porn was filmed that portrayed Mrs. Nixon in a decidedly non female light and she used her considerable powers as the first lady to get the video footage from the night redacted by several minutes thus cutting out the humiliating gender bending episode. This all led to Mr. Nixon being forced to resign the presidency and made black pajamas all the rage for several years except for certain parts of South East Asia like Vietnam and Cambodia.
Anyhow so we went back into the room noticed the shredded tobacco that was extremely easy to see on the blinding white bed spread in the hotel room. Not sure if Avondra shredded that ciggy while laying on the bed or not but apparently from what I heard from Clarice, Avondra had somehow gotten approximately.0000000000000001 lbs. of tobacco in between her toes and very close to touching more private areas which led Clarice to exclaim, “Avondra, WHAT the hell ARE you doing and what have YOU done, why did you have to shred that smoke and make that tobacco stick to your cootch?” This led me to coin the phrase “cootch tobacco” but in reality I don’t even think its that great of a phrase to be honest and its inclusion here tonight only serve to illustrate the point that I’m actually pretty fast even though I never even got to show my skills in raising crazy, motherless children of motherless children. I seriously hope that you take the time to get to know this story and if you can, maybe you can come up with an alternate ending to at least this one episode which it makes it that much more interesting than the shameless way I went after ratings when I made my cootch tobacco reference. May the good Lord forgive me and all of the other sinners for being so dumb and boring and incredibly self deprecating lol..
Talk about a tale about nothing. For fucks sweet sake man.
Avondra is asleep right now and I’m sitting here in the dark. I have been on some website where they have people racing against each other to see who can type various paragraphs the fastest. Usually you go up against 4 or 5 people and wait to get the green light before you all start at the same time and just type until you have finished whatever crappy yet profound pearl of literature they have put there for you. Just so you can get a little idea what I’m talking about say for example you had to type the first stanza or so of a dirty joke like: Hickory dickory dock This bitch was suckin my cock The clock struck two I dumped my goo And dumped her to the end of the block. And whatever idiosyncrasies that existed in the original literature have to be replicated on this test which makes it super bullshittish when you get into something like what I just used as an example with the capital T of This bitch right in the middle of the sentence or leaving off the g in the word sucking to give it more street credibility. Shit like that. Anyways I’ve done something like exactly 111 of these these races with an average time of 56 words per minute, a record time of 77 words per minute and I’ve flat out won 34 times out of 111 tries. I’m not making a judgment about whether I rule as typist of suck hard I’m just passing the mundane details of what’s going on right now over to you since some of you fucking people seem to relish reading mundanity. Whatever floats your boat. By the way if this sounds like drudgery defined that’s because it is and I hate myself a lot of the time and feel the need to punish myself for doing some stupid fucking things like collecting $1,900 in a twelve hour period through means both nefarious and honorable and then pissing away each and every dollar on a slot machine I never play especially in the dollar slots and in fact I’ve had some horrific experiences with even on the penny machine level while playing at the Fantasy Springs Casino in Indio by my mom’s trailer park. So what possessed me to sit there and fuck off nearly two grand on this stupid shit is beyond me. All I know is that I have to make myself suffer because of it which is the reason why I was entering typing races in the middle of the afternoon in the dark in my hotel room while my daughter Avondra slept and both of us listened to the sounds of waves crashing and seagulls squawking and presumably fucking, fighting and dying which is the way of the world is it not?