Luck Be a Lady: A Gentleman’s Guide to Gambling

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Luck Be a Lady: A Gentleman’s Guide to Gambling

One of the first I did upon turning 21 was going to a casino. You see, while you can start officially going to bars and the such when you turn 21, alcohol doesn’t really taste any different, and well, c’mon, we don’t really have to get into underage drinking do we? Anyone with a fake ID and knows of a bar that doesn’t care where they get their money can get the bar experience. Or, y’know, if you’re a girl, wear a low cut top. That will also take care of having to pay for drinks.

But, gambling. Now, a fake ID will not cut it at the casino. There are severe repercussions for that, and you just don’t want to deal with that type of heat. Now, I love cards, my dad has been teaching me card games since I could count. Naturally, I was attracted to casinos and when I turned 21, a bunch of my friends and I scraped up what money we could find, and we headed to Atlantic City.

The casino is an interesting place to observe human behavior. I’ve met nobodies, celebrities, people with money to burn, and people who really shouldn’t be gambling, often times all at the same table. Gambling has a weird way of equalizing the most differing sorts of circumstances, and more often than not, unites them in circumstance, with luck being the determining factor. From all my times in various casinos, I’ve seen all types of behaviors and outcomes and I’ve come up with a quick and easy guide not to be a jackass when it comes to being a patron of a casino.

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A Fleeting Glance: Amelia

“I feel like if the date went well, you want to be with them for those last ten steps to the door.”

Here at the Errant Bachelor we understand how hard it is to meet women. It’s one of those intrinsically tough things to feel out if you’re not one Ryan Gosling. Approach it too lightly and you seem like a pussy, approach it too aggressively and you’re a creep. So, we’ve done a bit of the leg work and gone out to strike up a conversation with some random girls about themselves, and their views on us.

I was initially really reticent about doing this feature, but after talking to Amelia, with her helping me out a bit shaping the column a bit, I feel a lot better about it. Anyways, Amelia is a 25 year old financial analyst and we met up for lunch or breakfast, depending on who you ask. Apparently, we were both recovering from a late night. While she looked put together for someone who claimed she had a rough night, I was barely able to assemble myself and speak in cogent sentences. Thankfully large amounts of unhealthy breakfast food woke me from my slumber and, away we go…

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Valentine’s Week: So You’re Single. (Fucking Deal With It)

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Valentine’s Week: So You’re Single. (Fucking Deal With It)

I swear to god, if I see another “Single’s Awareness Day” status up I’m going to start openly mocking these people. The joke hits the unfunny trifecta (the trifecta being that it’s pathetic, overused, and dumb) and god, it’s just so pathetic. Beyond the obvious acronym created (SAD) it just implies that being alone means that you’re somewhat less of a person. First, let’s be completely clear, no one in a relationship really gives a shit whether you’re taken or not. I’m fairly certain that today of all days, they’re just a little bit self-involved, which is completely fine. They’re not the ones actively making you aware that you’re single, you are. It’s a nice little kick in the ass to realize that you’re the one causing all your angst. Kinda takes the wind out of your sails doesn’t it?

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