In the middle of the night

We were out really late Thursday night, not winning my Cadillac. They kept mispronouncing my name and other people kept claiming the keys. Idiots. But Paul won a boatload full of money and even shared, so it wasn't a total loss. I mean, I'm disappointed that they couldn't get my name right and wouldn't let me claim the 2006 Cadillac that was rightfully mine, but hey, what can you do? I'm going to blame the Dang Liberal Democrats, like my dear friend Jim. He blames everything on the Dang Liberal Democrats. I honestly have no beef with democrats, being registered as one myself. It's just fun to blame everything on an political group. Because I'm quirky like that.


I hadn't won crap all night Thursday (and was royally mad about it) when TaterSis jackpotted a RedBall machine and screamed so loud when she won her $250 that security actually sent over a Slot Tech to take her information because usually the only people that make such a ruckus are the ones that win taxable amounts. Oh, but not my Tater. She whooped and hollered and screamed and squealed and squeezed, slapped and punched me in the right arm so many times that any other time I'd have decked her, but I was laughing too hard at the hoopla she was creating. Within 30 seconds of her first ear-splitting scream there was a crowd of at least 25 people around us all gawking to see the enormous jackpot she'd won. Then they all sniffed and scoffed when they saw $250 on her machine.


Later on in the night, I was down to my last $40 and sat down at the RedBall machine Tater had won on earlier. Paul had already blown his $100 allottment from his mega winnings (he gave me $100, too) and was pouting around, saying he was tired and had to work the next day, but I was having fun and I'm selfish and hey, to quote Hillbilly Mom, it's all about me. So play, I did. I started with $20 in the machine and had it up to $125 at one point. I played it up, down, up, down, just generally driving Tater insane with the threat of me leaving with less than $100, and finally cashed out with $100. I paid her back the $20 Paul had borrowed, paid Mom some money on the Silver Dollar City Season Passes she bought for me and pocketed the rest. I was a happy diva.

It was while sitting there winning and driving my sister insane, that she began physically abusing me again. I had given her my cell phone to hold because Bub was going to call when he left the other casino he was visiting while I continued winning at the Buffalo. I should know to never give her anything but cotton balls and maybe marshmallows when she's bored because she can turn anything into a weapon. I'm sitting there happily daubing my machine when YOWCH a searing pain hit my upper left arm and I yelled really loudly before I had a chance to realize how loudly I was yelling. A guy had sat down on the right side of me just before I yelled and had asked how we were, if we were winning, etc. When I yelled his companion goes, "Oh, did she win?" He replied, "No, I think her friend just burned her with a cigarette, though." From the way I was holding my arm and cursing, I can see how it would appear that my upper arm had been almost set on fire. Turns out, since well, Tater doesn't smoke, she didn't burn me with a cigarette, but she did flip me with the antenna of my cell phone. I am going to start carrying my cell phone in my hand when I walk down dark alleys, because if I am ever mugged I can just flip my assailant with my cell phone antenna and send him away screaming and wounded. That HURT. She said she was sorry and that she felt bad, but the way she was giggling hysterically, I'm not so sure I believe her.

Friday day was a really easy day here at home. CBG didn't come last week since she was hit a bit harder by THE FLU than Kady was and was home recovering with her Mimi. I didn't have CTB (Cute Tiny Baby) because he's so tiny medical professionals said he should stay far from my house for a week longer. So I stayed in my pajamas all day, took a nap in the afternoon with the kids and then lied through my teeth when Paul asked me if I'd taken a nap. No way I was 'fessing up to that one.

That night Paul went to bed at 8:45, a mere 15 minutes after the kids. I stayed on the couch to watch the premiere of Derek Acorah's Ghost Towns on The Travel Channel. I'm a fan of all things paranormal and ghostly, but I'm afraid this dude was a little over the top. I fell asleep. At 9. A mere 15 minutes after Paul. And I slept until 7 the next morning!


All of the Divas got up and around and started the day pretty early for a Saturday around here. Paul was going to Wal*Mart to distribute more Girl Scout cookies and Abby had a cheerleading workshop to go to. Tater and I were going to go buy the things for our Troop's community service project and maybe do a little gambling while the girls were busy cheering and chanting and working on their spirit. But Tater called in a fit, wanting to know if we knew where Addison's shoes were. The child had lost her shoes. So after all of that drama and then the fact that Tater's alarm didn't go off, I scrapped the whole community service shopping and told Tater to meet me at the gym after the workshop and we'd deliver some cookies then and shop some other time.

Because I had gotten a bit overly emotional that morning, Paul - in a rare moment of husbandly compassion - took Kady and Sam with him to distribute GS cookies. After the shock wore off at his gesture, I dropped Abby off, then took off in a dead run for the nearest casino for 3 hours of quality gambling time ALONE. Now, granted there were others in the casino - it wasn't like they cleared it just for me. I'm not that famous yet. But I was there amongst strangers and I didn't talk, didn't make eye contact and didn't even think half the time I was there. It was nice. Sometimes I get overloaded and need to run. Alone is good sometimes.

It took us an hour to sell 4 boxes of cookies, so we stopped that nonsense and went home. When selling to family you visit a lot, we found. And Papa's house was really hot and smelled like cabbage. Bleh.




Awhile back my uncle gave Paul some ostrich skin boots. He also gave Bub some of those old man short boots. You know what I'm talking about - the boots that look like normal cowboy boots but in all actuality they zip up and only go to just right above the ankle. Now, I love my uncle to pieces, but short boots? To a 32 year old man? Bub took them and then gave them to Paul later. Yesterday he tried to wear them. I told him that I could never sleep with him ever again if he wore the short boots out in public. Seriously. Short boots, people. Not happenin'. The mere thought does not make my mojo do anything but vomit. So what does he do but run into town to shop for new shoes an hour before everyone is due to arrive at our house. He was late, but at least now I can sleep with him again.

My DivaMaInLaw is on vacation and offered to watch the kids if we wanted to go to Tulsa to the Cherokee Casino. So we rallied the troops and made the plans. Except we started hearing that Cherokee just doesn't pay out all that well. Consistently not that well. So we then decided to go to Siloam Springs, AR. Then we heard they pay out better than Cherokee, but just about like the casinos around here. So in our minds we might as well stay local and save gas. We went to Grand Lake Casino. We left the Diva Ranch around 6pm. We left Grand Lake Casino somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30am. From there we went to Bordertown Bingo in Seneca, MO, and stayed until 4 or so.



And then of course, we couldn't end an all-night casino run without visiting The Lucky Turtle.






It was at Grand Lake Casino that I called my sister a "butt monkey" and nearly made our mother blow an artery laughing so hard. On the ride from Grove to Seneca we made up mean names for The One Person We All Really Don't Like And Will Soon Have No Reason To Associate With. Her new name is Yzma Dermadouche. Don't ask why, just laugh like we did. I'm sure the people at the Turtle thought we were all staggering drunks because when we walked into the place we were all laughing so hard we were crying and couldn't walk straight. I also called my sister a HoBag when she kept daubing my machine. You just don't mess with my machine and not expect to get called something nasty.

When we left the Turtle it was just after 5:30am. There was light in the east and Tater said, "Oh look! The sun's coming up!" Mom corrected her by saying, "No, the sun isn't up yet, it's breaking light." Of course, I giggled because I'm immature and infantile when I've been awake for nearly 24 hours. On the ride home we had laughed until we couldn't laugh any more. The truck got quiet and we were all just kind of riding along in a sleep-deprived stupor. I looked out my window and said, "Look, Mom! The sun is breaking wind!" And even though it wasn't all that funny, we laughed hysterically until we stopped.

We walked in our front door this morning at 6:10am. Just pretty much 12 hours after we'd left. We were smokey, tired and plumb goofy, but we'd had fun. Mom starts her new job this Wednesday and Tater has applied for a job as well and we're pretty sure she'll get it. This was just our way of saying, "Hey, butt monkeys! Congratulations!"