Sunday, March 29, 2009

The Night the Lights Went Out in Vegas

Jackie, Paul, me, Roland, and Joanie in our high limit room. Jackie and Joanie are two of the lovely bartenders who take care of our high limit players. It's always so nice when people know me from my web site and come in to visit. Thanks, guys - hope to see you again!

Another busy Saturday night, and NYNY participated in Earth Hour by turning off the external lights at 8:30pm for one hour. That was just great; I'm sure lots of money was saved and the Eskimos have another ice brick to complete that igloo and maybe even some angels got their wings. But when the lights came back on, the casino's computers went down, and suddenly anyone who cashed out from their slot machine got a "call attendant - hand pay" message. Even if it was just for a penny. So not only were people flagging me down to get a drink, everyone was yelling at me about their machines too. That was awesome. That lasted for about another hour, so NYNY should be commended for participating in their own little energy conservation party.

You know what else I love? When some loser says, "I'll take a Heineken. And your phone number." Seriously? Does that ever work? "Here's your Heineken. And my phone number. Please call me because guys hit on me all the time*...guys who are actually hot, who don't waste my time then stiff me, who don't think they're playas, who actually are the shit (as opposed to a piece of shit), but you - as Biz Markie so eloquently articulated in that heartfelt love song - you gots what I nee-eeds....".

And then there was this young couple who asked if they could have a double Jack and Coke and a double vodka cranberry. I said, "Sure." When I came back with their drinks, the guy took out a wad of bills and carefully selected one dollar and handed it to me. One fucking dollar, for two drinks with double shots. And then the guy said, with a big, friendly smile on his face, "Come back in five minutes." I just laughed. Are you out of your fucking tree? One dollar for two doubles, which I'm not supposed to do, and now you want me to come back in five minutes. Because it's not like I have other customers or anything. On a Saturday night. I'll just back away, bowing (because you're never supposed to turn your ass to royalty - I learned that from watching The Tudors), and head back to the bar and set my timer and diddle my doodle until it's time to come back. So exactly five minutes later, I came around taking orders, and the guy said, "We'll have another, the doubles." I said, "I'm sorry, we don't serve doubles." He gave me a confused look, "That's what you gave us last time." I said, "I did? I was probably just being nice. I'm not allowed to serve doubles." He said, "Uh...OK, just singles then." I shrugged, walked away and was taking orders from some other customers when he came up to me and said, "Oh, here's for the last round. You walked away too fast!" He was holding out a five. I smiled and said nothing. What an asswipe. He said, "Can we get those doubles now?" He was smiling, trying his best to butter me up. I said, "Sure. All you had to do was ask."

*This is a lie.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Two Hung Low

Aww...isn't this a cute picture of my friend, Melissa, at our new Center Bar? But OK, here's the deal. See that woman at the bar? She's a hooker and she had the biggest, hangiest boobs, and she wasn't wearing a bra, so I had to take a picture of her for you guys. But I couldn't just say, "Hey, show me your hangy boobs," so I had to pretend I was taking a picture of Melissa. But she had her head turned away for so long that I finally thought that if I took a picture the flash might get her attention...

It did, so I pretended I was taking another picture of Melissa, so the hooker leaned away to try to get out of the shot but I was way too sneaky! But so was she, because she wouldn't move her damn hand off the bar, so you couldn't get a clear view of her tits. I mean, they weren't saggy in the traditional sense. They just hung really low, like down by her waist, but her nipples didn't point down or anything. And because she wasn't wearing a bra you could see areola and everything. I wanted to take another picture but Melissa was doing one of those things when you mutter through your smile, "Hurry the fuck up, she's gonna know you're taking her picture - hurry up!" I'm told areola's a regular so next time she's here I'll try to get a good shot. I swear, her boobs are fucking huge, like bowling balls - at least 15 lbs.

Take a good look, guys. This is the kind of Pretty Woman you too can whisk away in your sports car.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Ooh...So Lovely....

Danny Gokey? No, just Mike Galster, NYNY's Bartender Idol.

I was running late to work, which is nothing new, and there was another girl who was also rushing from the employee parking lot to the elevator at the same time. I pushed the button and we both waited impatiently as the elevator finally lit on our floor and the doors opened. There was another employee already inside, and as we stepped in, he said, very dramatically, "Welcome to the morgue."

Neither I nor the girl acknowledged him, although I did a quick glance his way before I turned around to face the doors, my back towards him, and she did the same. And I just instinctively did an eyeroll and mock dry heave to myself. I didn't even know the guy. And from the way the other girl reacted, neither did she. I don't know if he was a casino porter or what, but it was just completely stupid. I mean, did he think we would both break out in giggles?

Or was that a commentary on how slow our casino business was and an invitation for the three of us to start bashing our place of employment? I really hate the whole negativity of spoiled, ungrateful people who don't know how lucky they are just to be alive in a free country with access to clean water and be able to shit in a flushing toilet. If you hate your job so much, fucking quit and let someone else take your place. I don't love my job because I don't love the fact I have to work for a living, period. But I love the fact that I have a job, such a great job, especially in such hard times.

The ride to the employee level wasn't that long, and usually the music that's heard in the casino is piped in to the elevator too, but this time it was just silent. I really wanted to start laughing because I knew the guy was standing back there, probably still thinking he's some ladies' man who just zinged us with his comic wit when we're both thinking, what a complete fucktard. Maybe she wasn't going into the whole deep job-appreciation thing that I was, but she still thought it.

When the door opened and we got out, I ran out first because, well, I was really running late and I wanted to get the hell away from the guy. But because I'm short and have extremely short legs, and maybe because he was stalking me or because of serendipity or some other karmic bullshit, he seemed to be right at my heels when I reached the employee entrance. So, because I'm not a complete asshole, when I opened the door, I held it open behind me for him. And you know what he said?

He uttered, " lovely...." under his breath. The thing that guys in trench coats say in that creepy way as they're jerking off to kiddie porn. I mean, geez, dude. I just held the door for you, not invite you into my love shack.

I almost felt like he gave me an STD.

And yesterday was such a great day.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Waitress Rant

What a great day.

It was a great day because I just met Steve Dublanica from Not because he's a New York Times bestselling author, or because he's been on Oprah, or even because he interviewed me for his next book "At Your Service." It was a great day because he inspired me to start writing on my web site again.

I love writing, I really do. I find beauty in words, and I love relating my experiences, and turning the most mundane tasks, like delivering a drink, into something amusing or interesting or frustrating or even controversial. But sometimes I just get so damn lazy, and before I know it days turn into weeks, weeks into years, and years into who the hell was cocktaildoll - oh yeah, didn't she used to be waitress in Vegas into bondage or something?

A few minutes after meeting Steve I felt it was time to put my foot in my mouth so I said, "So, you decided to fly all the way from Jersey to Vegas to meet your female counterpart in person, huh?"

He took a sip of his vodka martini (dirty - oh, yes, he likes it dirty), then said, "Well, not exactly."

I said, "What do you mean? You posted on my message board specifically to meet me."

I have to say, he restrained himself really well because I would have reached out and patted me on the head and said, "There, there, you over-egotistical's not all about you."

Instead, he said, "I had already planned out my Vegas trip and announced on my blog that I was looking to interview people for my next book. So I when I got into town yesterday I was standing around at Paris when this girl walked up to me and said, 'Hey, you're Steve Dublanica!' We started talking and she said I should get in touch with you, and I said I'd never heard of you, so she gave me your web site, so I went back to my hotel room and tried to e-mail you, but your e-mail doesn't work, so I was really frustrated, then I found your message board, and posted on there, and here we are."

All I could do was stare at him blankly.

"So you'd never heard of me? Seriously?"

He said, "No. I sort of skimmed through your site. You should really update it."

OK, maybe I'm exaggerating. But just a smidgeon.

An hour interview turned into a five-hour chat about life, relationships, goals, and how his mom recorded American Idol over his interview with Oprah. That sucks.

Thanks Steve!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

New E-Mail

It's really not a new e-mail. Some skank has already taken "cocktaildoll" as a username. Actually, it's probably me from years ago and I forgot the password so I couldn't log into it. Or maybe it isn't me.

Anyway, do NOT use (unless you're a spammer, in which case send all your e-mail there) because it's been screwed up for awhile and I can't figure out how to fix it.