All Bets Are Off!

We once again tried to remedy our broke status by jumping on the opportunity when Thing One and Twinkle Toes invited us to a casino. We got the request - no, DEMAND- for our presence when we were nerding it up (having a total blast) at Political Quizbowl 2010. (One of us has been continually referred to "and your friend," which we have concluded is a result of Twinkle Toes not remembering names...) Of course, we immediately bolted out of the bar to drive quite a distance to meet these two, leaving a seemingly nice, successful, eligible bachelor - who actually approached us - behind. Too easy, too easy. Makes too much sense. That would have been the right thing to do, but we're journalists now and make sketchy decisions in the pursuit of truth, justice, and the American Way (the American Way, of course, being fodder for a trashy reality TV show).

However, all was not lost: we were able to cobble together what little information we had about this kind young man, piecing his identity together through his place of employment and a popular social networking site, and sent him a message apologizing for our quick exit and suggesting a cocktail at a later date, despite him suspiciously drinking water out of a plastic cup at the bar. If this trend continues, this "relationship" is a no-go.

Where were we... Oh yes: another hot-spot off of I-35 in the middle of Iowa. When we arrived at our destination, our two gentleman callers needed assistance in retrieving their vehicles that were, by all accounts, a mere ten miles away. An hour later, we miraculously found the trucks and convinced one of them that driving was not such a great idea. Due to a few wrong turns and killing a small animal, the drive home took a while longer. One of us was able to atone for a lifetime of sins because she had no CDs and was forced to listen to the only radio station: a mix of Christian rock and sermons.

Approximately two hours after our initial arrival at the casino, we were ready for the fun to commence. When was this fun supposed to start exactly? Was it after the Dynamic Duo fed hundreds of dollars in the slot machines and won nothing? (Hmm...) After they repeatedly asked the desk clerk if she wanted stale popcorn they had bought at the gas station next door? (Bad idea?) Or was it after they marked their territory by peeing in the garbage cans in the hotel rooms? (Red flag!) Perhaps after one of them climbed naked into the bath tub in a hotel room that was not his? (Abort mission!) Maybe after the guys were asked to leave the casino because they appeared to be too intoxicated? (Danger! Danger!) All of this occurred in between drinking warm bottled beer (us) and spitting tobacco into empty bottles (them).

The following morning at breakfast, after trying to solve the oil leak in the Gulf, finding federal funds to alleviate the massive cuts in education, and putting a stop to the domestic terrorism that is plaguing Thailand, three of us choked down runny eggs, stale French toast, and egg rolls (oddly enough on the breakfast buffet) while Twinkle Toes specially ordered a tuna melt, which he then thought may have been a bad idea following a night of warm beer and chewing tobacco. After breakfast we were left standing in the lobby alone because Thing One announced, "I gotta poop" and jetted upstairs, and Twinkle Toes saluted, said, "See ya," and peeled out of the parking lot.

Ah-mazing.

After a long recovery period, we decided to get together to recollect the night's events: were our minds playing tricks on us? Did we make it all up? Was it all a dream? Surely all of that could not have happened! Alas, our stories matched; it was true. You can't make this stuff up! We soothed our troubled souls with a meal of comfort food: chicken marsala, brown-butter gnocchi, sauteed spinach, and, of course, garlic bread.