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Rick, the girls and I headed back to my in-laws’ on the Jersey shore this weekend. You know how it goes. We threw a couple things in an overnight bag.

What? Seriously, what? Like who doesn’t need a few outfit options? At first, everyone is a bit les miserables in the car but then it gets good.

and then it gets awesomely good.

On Saturday night, Rick and I decide, gosh damn it, we are still young and sprightly so we head to “The Pool” bar at Harrah’s casino and resort in Atlantic City. As you can see, the joint has a small, quaint pub like feel….

Rick and I grab drinks and scan the scene of bikini-clad cocktail waitresses and almost 20-somethings. We hang particularly close to a group of gray haired, middle age women in the hopes of looking younger and hipper. I am reasonably confident that it’s working.

Then Rick starts acting ultra, super perky and I realize it’s because these gals are in the house.

In fact, there is a whole posse of guys ogling them and Rick (who always takes the time to help those in need) says to a couple of the guys…

“I’m married. Go for it. Com’on! Go talk to them.”

I’m telling you, that man never thinks of himself.

Then we did a little white man overbite dancing…

But alas, it’s time to dump this taco stand, and hit the casino. Of course, hanging out at the casino is like being on an airplane in 1978. Smoking is only permitted in certain areas but the whole place wreaks.

Still, there is something electrifying about all those slot machines, crap tables and seniors pouring their social security funds into video poker. You can’t help but feel the casino fever.

Rick decides to play a little black jack. I think it’s kind of sexy when a guy gambles. I mean, not when they risk the college tuition savings but like the preschool savings.

Shortly after that picture was taken, it became abundantly clear to me that you are, in fact, most definitely not allowed to take pictures inside the casino. Therefore no snapshots here of those smokin’ hot pit bosses who keep order at the tables, and apparently (although this can not be confirmed) have never actually had sunlight on their faces.

After a few hands, we realized we are kind of tired and maybe-not-so-sprightly after all, so we head home.

Upon leaving, I notice the elevators smell remarkably like a gerbil cage, which I’m sure studies show encourages people to gamble more.

But thanks to my husband’s savvy blackjack skills, we end up $31 dollars richer. That’s right. Get out the passports and ring Chevy Chase because we are now going on a 1st class European vacation.

32 Responses to when i grow up, i want to be a pit boss

  • madge says:

    You went out? To a place where there are other drinks and alcohol? I'm sorry. I don't get it. Is that actually still doable?

    Hey, glad you guys had a good time.

  • I remember how disappointed I was when I finally checked out the inside of those casinos – I expected it to look all glamorous, like the gambling room in Rick's place in Casablanca; instead, it seemed so squalid, with all those senior citizens on those slot machines and the people outside the door begging for money to ride the bus home.

    So, yeah – I learned life ain't the movies….

  • Aunt Marcia (Guess W says:

    If you had checked in one day earlier; you might have run into Aunt Marcia and Cousin Mady throwing their social security money into the Wheel of Fortune; or sitting at the bar for free drinks while playing Poker. You would not have seen us at the pool in our bikinis.

  • Pearl says:

    I love the suitcase picture! I remember the first trip I took with Baby I was totally overwhelmed with the amount of gear!!

    As for gambling, I prefer the laundromat. At least I am getting some clean clothes in return for all those quarters I'm givin up.

  • sam says:

    paolo is looking at todays post with me over our morning coffee (ok, he drinks milk) and sees those girls and says "that is wierd." i don't know if it's the shiny red outfits, the ample bosoms or the young people having fun that he is so unfamiliar with!

  • Jacki says:

    LOL at the packing….we do the same thing! You will have to check out the pictures I post of how we pack to go to Denmark! We each have 2 suitcases and a couple of carryons.

    And it is sad how going out to party just isn't the same anymore. Whenever Peter and I make it into DC to spend the night, we walk around, get bored and go back to the hotel where it is MUCH more fun.

  • I recently found out that at age 35, I'm the oldest mom with young kids in the neighborhood.

    It's amazing how something so simple and normal can make you feel 100 years old.

    Oh, and about the gerbil thing….just gross….that would be another "What's That Smell?" moment from me.

  • Deb Ringold says:

    hysterical, as always!! Great picture of Summer on the beach. Oh, and thanks for snapping that picture of me and my posse dancing. I'm in the red with the great boobs.

  • JoLynn says:

    Oh you two are sooooo cute!!! Iam glad you had a great weekend!!! Another thing, if anyone read's these comment's beside's Kelcey I just want all of you to know I had a bad day and it made Kelcey sad so what did she do? Send me the most wonderful chocolate's AND bath product's!!! What every woman need's!! Let me tell ALL of you-THIS GAL ROCK'S!!!! I love you Kelcey!!!!

  • Jessi says:

    all in all it sounds like you had fun, even if it was smoky-gerbil-licious smelling.

    I used to live in Las Vegas and worked a couple of the restaurants in casinos, but moved away before I was legal to gamble. I think I played that card the smart way lol

  • mackbeth says:

    The pit bosses in Vegas are pretty serious guys too, at least when you stand on the wrong side of the roulette tables. I thought they were going to ask me out, not escort me out! Glad you had fun!

  • misty says:

    really? You aren't allowed to take photos? I guess I get it, but in this day and age I'm surprised…

    The pool looked amazing… The rest, I guess, I've always been too old a soul for!

  • Queen Goob says:

    It has been scientifically proven through measurable evidence that the odor of cedar and poop pumped into casino elevators enhances ones supposition drawing the conclusion that yes, one IS a god at the black jack table.

  • Milena says:

    Wait! You had me hopelessly doubled over at "some white man overbite dancing." I never recovered my posture after that. Like an old girlfriend of mine with a pronounced penchant for overextending her vowels used to say fuuuuu-neeeeeee.

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