What’s a poor girl got to do just to have some fun?

Friday, payday, Lordy got to get away
Had it with the wife thing, living on a shoe string
What’s a poor girl got to do just to have some fun?
All these years without any help
Guess what, honey, clothes just don’t wash themselves!
Neither do dishes, neither does the bathroom floor.

So, now if anyone asks, not that they would
I’ll be down in Uncasville and up to no good...



(If I'm going to lose money, I'd rather do it the old-fashioned way. And blackjack is way more fun than watching the Dow and NASDAQ -- and my retirement savings -- redline on CNBC. Also, did I mention there's free booze?)

UPDATED: Well, I won't be retiring any time soon, nor quitting my day job, but I did come home with an extra $80 in my wallet, after paying for lunch for two. And I (we) had a good time, and met some nice people. All in all, not a bad way to spend a few hours. Now excuse me while I catch up on work, go make dinner, do the dishes, and start the laundry.

I feel lucky

It's 11/11 and I'm heading off with G. in a few minutes to Mohegan Sun for our last gambling trip of the year.



I think this could be THE BIG ONE, people, as both G. and I are feeling lucky -- and I am so due. (Mama needs a new pair of shoes, really expensive leather ones with a moderate heel.)



Odds are we will at least have a good time.

Will let you know how we did later.

UPDATED 4:30 P.M.: I am pleased to report the Mohegan Sun "offsite" (aka gambling outing) was a great success, and I made a nearly 400% return on my investment. G. also had an up day. Not bad for a few hours work. And the chocolate martinis were delightful. (Special thanks to Glen, JR, and Pat, our new friends from Rhode Island, who owe us drinks, and to Orlando, our new favorite croupier.) Next stop: shoe shopping in Paris!

What, me gamble? You betcha!

Shhh. Don't tell anyone, but I'm playing hooky today (just for a few hours). Me and my good buddy G. are going native -- Native American that is, and are about to head up to Mohegan Sun for a little blackjack, slots, and drinks at Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. Woohoo!

For those of you unfamiliar with the Mohegan Sun Casino and Hotel, this is exactly what it's like:



I got my cute little pink and green dress on and everything.

Gotta motor, but don't worry. I'll be back in plenty of time to write my weekly American Idol post. Going to be a hot three-way tonight, babies, with Adam on top!

UPDATED 4:25 P.M.: Well, I still have my shirt, but not much else. I won over $60 on the slots this morning. And was doing really good for a while at blackjack (up over $100 at one point -- not bad for an hour's work). When we broke for lunch at 12 noon, I was even.

Unlike our other forays to the Sun, however, there was no pre-noon drinking -- or afternoon imbibing for that matter. Not sure why. And this afternoon's blackjack table was a DISASTER. G. lost her vig and stopped playing by 1:45. A very bad sign as she almost always brings home a couple hundred or more than she came with.

I still had a pile of chips, so kept playing, and was doing OK until the guy in the Red Sox polo shirt decided to "coach" me. He was technically right re playing the odds, but thanks to his helpful advice about doubling down and splitting, I lost about $80 in five minutes. He felt so bad, he offered me some of his chips, but I said "thanks but no thanks" and walked away.

I found G., who was playing the slots -- and wound up winning another $20 or so. And then we had to dash as it was raining and we had to get our kids from their after-school activities. (Normally G. teaches CCD Tuesday afternoons, good Catholic that she is, but she didn't this afternoon. : )

In total, including lunch, I was down around $80 for the day, but I've lost more -- way more -- and not had nearly so much fun. Until next time...

Large Hadron Collider not responsible for financial black hole; the Mohegan Sun report; and why Friday's presidential debate should go on as planned

As some of you may already know, the Large Hadron Collider, over near (or rather under) Geneva, Switzerland, has been shut down for at least two months due to a) a broken 30-ton transformer that cools the system and b) a large helium leak that has caused scientists and technicians to speak in falsetto voices for the last few days.

As a result, the Large Hadron Collider has not been able to collide anything, meaning (and it pains me to type this) there is no way it can be held responsible for the black hole that is currently sucking up (or down) the world's financial markets. That black hole, which has been rapidly expanding, despite government efforts to contain it all costs (or at least $700 USD), I am afraid, was caused by the collision of other forces, mostly economic in nature.

Equally, if not more, disappointing, scientists will now have to wait at least a few more months to test how long it would take the particle accelerator to defrost a pizza.

I know, I know: You are as disappointed as I am, though perhaps not more so than the intrepid editors over at Scientific American who "made an estimate based on the rate and energy of particle collisions when the machine's two beams meet head on" as to how fast the LHC could defrost a pizza.

Based on certain suppositions (which you can read about in the article, which I link to above), it would take 30 nanoseconds to defrost a frozen DiGiorno's Microwave Rising Crust Four-Cheese Pizza, though, theoretically speaking, the collisions required to heat the pizza could unintentionally create a black hole and suck the pizza into another dimension or just vaporize it.

In other news... I won $100 (actually a bit more) in just a couple of hours yesterday at Mohegan Sun. And my buddy, G., won almost $400! Talk about a good return on your investment! And let me tell you, I had waaaay more fun playing blackjack (with a CPA and a college computer science professor and my buddy) than I've had watching my money managers gamble with my savings the past few months. My outing at Mohegan Sun was also more profitable.

Finally, as many of you have probably now heard, earlier today Republican presidential candidate John McCain called for postponing Friday's presidential debate (the first of three scheduled debates) until the resolution of the financial mess on Wall Street, and also vowed to suspend his campaign to concentrate on finding a solution.

While I honestly believe McCain is dedicated/committed to finding a quick and even bipartisan resolution to the current Wall Street crisis, I agree with the Boston Globe that this is (in some part) a stunt to delay the upcoming presidential debate this Friday.

Barack Obama, who had phoned McCain this morning to discuss issuing a joint statement regarding the current financial crisis, had no idea until this afternoon that McCain wanted to delay the first debate -- and rejected McCain's call to do so, stating: "It's my belief that this is exactly the time when the American people need to hear from the person who in approximately 40 days will be responsible for dealing with this mess," adding, "I think that it is going to be part of the president's job to deal with more than one thing at once."

I agree, as has, apparently, the Commission on Presidential Debates, which, as of this afternoon, had not heard from anyone in the McCain campaign and said it was going forward with the debate as scheduled.

Will the debate go forward as scheduled? Will the Large Hadron Collider go back online before the year is out? Will I quit my day job and become a professional gambler? Stay tuned...

Life's a crapshoot, so I'm going to Mohegan Sun. Where's Tim Russert when we need him? And can the Mets save themselves?

As many (if not most) of you know, the market was down 372.75 points today as Congress and the Bush administration worked on/out that $700 billion taxpayer-funded bailout plan. Personally, I am spitting mad at the thought of having taxpayers bail out a bunch of greedy investment bankers, mortgage wheeler-dealers, absent actuaries, and foolhardy financiers who should have and most likely did know better but hoped and prayed this day would never come -- or would come after they had socked away more than enough to weather the eventual s**t storm.

However, since the government seems to be willing to bail out just about anyone with big enough losses, I have decided to liquidate what's left of my portfolio and get me to Mohegan Sun tomorrow, as soon as the kid heads off on the school bus. If I lose, I will just write a letter to Congressman Chris Shays respectfully requesting the government and/or taxpayers reimburse me for stupidly gambling away my life savings -- and allowing the good croupiers at Mohegan Sun to take unfair advantage of me. (In the meantime, I plan on having a jolly good time playing the slots and blackjack and having a martini -- maybe two! -- at Leffingwells, which opens at 11 a.m.)

And speaking of bailing... Where the heck were journalists as this crisis loomed and why have they not been talking up more about the increasingly erratic and angry McCain campaign and it's shocking disregard for the truth and facts?

Yes, yes, I know there are many pundits and politicos, including the folks over at the George Stephanopoulos Show (aka This Week), who are starting to show some real outrage re what's been going down economically and politically. But where is Tim Russert when you need him?! (And yes, I know he's dead. I am speaking metaphorically.)

MSNBC has been flailing around since Russert's untimely departure -- and boy could they, and we, have used him. Now more than ever.

Tim, if you're out there, can you, please, go contact Whoopi Goldberg, like Patrick Swayze did in Ghost, and hold McCain's feet to the proverbial flame? (Actually, maybe he already has.)

And speaking of flames, or flaming out, how 'bout them Mets, huh? As I type this, the New York Mets are having their collective feet held to another fire -- or perhaps more accurately, getting their asses kicked and/or balls busted -- by the Chicago Cubs 7 - 2 in the top of the fifth. (Weeping.) As a Mets fan since way back (after their '69 miracle year but long before their next World Series win in '86), I am used to the Mets blowing it, but there is only so much I can take. And I ain't getting any younger. Are there no relief pitchers out there to make the hurt go away?

Well, at least the Giants won yesterday. (Take THAT Ocho Cinkhole.)

O the things you can learn at Mohegan Sun

Like why men are better at blackjack, aka 21. "It's because they have 10 fingers, 10 toes, and a hoohoo," as our dealer, Joe, explained. Women, on the other hand, continued Joe, don't fare as well, because they are prone to count to 22. (I will leave it to you to intuit Joe's explanation.) Somehow, though, in spite of our inherent disadvantage as women, and Joe's stupid, sexist comments, my buddy, G., and I made out quite nicely, thank you very much, at the blackjack table today.

Not nice enough to pick up some baubles at Tiffany or drive home in the cute Shelby near the Summer Garage entrance, but enough to pay for martinis at Leffingwells, paninis at the food court, and a Krispy Kreme donut (chocolate with sprinkles), and still have some spare change -- or as G. pointed out, about the same as I'd make doing a short article, but a hell of a lot more fun.
The real excitement, however, was not at the blackjack table, though we had a lot of fun and continue to sharpen our blackjack skills. (Who knew you should hit on 16? Well, depending on what the dealer has showing. Or that it was good to double down on an 8? Again, depending on what the dealer has showing. Now, we know.)

No, my friends, if you really want to learn something, and have a good time doing it, go to Leffingwells in the Casino of the Sky at Mohegan Sun, walk up to the upper level, which is a working planetarium, and pull up a bar stool.

The first time G. and I visited Lefingwells (which opens at 11 a.m., because it's always 5 o'clock somewhere) we met Adam, who was a DJ, Jets fan, and about to get married. It was football season, and Adam and I had a lengthy discussion about the Jets and the Giants and matters pertaining to football and marriage, with G. (a big Jets fan) chiming in, while G. and I sipped martinis and gnawed on pretzel sticks.

The next time we visited Leffingwells we had Becky, the teetotaling bartender, and had an equally fascinating conversation about something, which I cannot recall, but I know it was fascinating. (The problem with drinking at 11 a.m. on a fairly empty stomach.)

Which brings us to Steve, whom I pretty sure wanted to push me off the top of Wombi Rock (where Leffingwells is located) for not acting like he was the most brilliant, erudite man I had ever met. Sorry Steve, but just because you had CNBC on both TVs doesn't make you a hedge fund manager -- or the smartest guy in the room. That would have been Spencer, except he wasn't there. (Ya know, I would have a lot more friends if I just learned to keep my big mouth shut and play dumb.)

But I did enjoy our 45-minute conversation about why gasoline costs so much, oil and oil futures, energy efficiency (in homes and cars, including why catalytic converters are inefficient), why foam is a better insulator than fiberglass, and why a window's U-value is important. Though I think Steve would have had a way better time if I hadn't correctly answered all of his questions. G., however, who is looking into getting new windows and insulation, was very happy to learn about U-values and foam. So it was time (and money) very well spent. And the tiramisu martinis were superb. Well done, Steve!

We also had an interesting conversation about the difference between girl children and boy children with the nice bartender-in-training (a woman) who was just coming on shift and Adam, our old football pal, who is now married and whose wife, who is a dealer at the Sun, is expecting their first child, a girl, in June.

All in all, it was a fascinating, entertaining, and profitable day, for both me and G. And as we left the casino, to retrieve our children, the sun was shining brightly upon us. Really, what more can you ask for (except the ability to not end a sentence with a preposition)?