The Illuminated Donkey

A Loss That Felt Like a Win Yet Obviously Wasn't! Spent a fine day up at Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun with my sister and Mr. Wolf, and all I have to say is that after getting mercilessly smacked around by the blackjack gods time after time after time like I was getting, to finish anywhere close to even is a huge accomplishment (scariest hand: resplitting threes against the dealers five and somehow winning all three hands). So no, I didn't win. Unless you somehow count in the win column witnessing a scary bachelorette party drinking through penis-shaped straws, or getting to see the Foxwoods Hard Rock Cafe's incredibly lame showcase rock memorabilia collection (Lita Ford's guitar! Some guitar from a Counting Crows member who isn't the one I've heard of! A jacket worn by a member of Cinderella!), or not being the member of our group who was pawed by a creepy old guy in a big hurry at the buffet (sister) or pawed by a less-creepy drunk woman at a blackjack table (Wolf). In that case, we're all winners. Except for my sister and Mike.