Slot machines can be boring...that's why I talk to mine. I sit their and coax them to give me cherries and wheels and diamonds. I threaten to leave!
"I can have any of these other slot machines! They all want me! Do you want me to go, because I'll take my voucher for $13.75 and leave right now!"
It never works. The machine breaks my heart and takes my money. It abuses me and I keep feeding it twenties. I'm one co-dependent bastard.
6 comments:
This certainly makes you sound like an abusive boyfriend. Verbally abusing it until the innocent machine gives up it's cherry; at which point you will probably just walk away and never call it again. It may work better for you if you stop picking the pretty ones, they're always teases.
I concur.
Jason. Did you write that "Anonymous" comment? It seems suspiciously Jasonesque. I suspect you wrote anonymously, and then took the time to agree with yourself.
That comment is not below me or my humor, however 'twas me. I suspect the consistent usual "anon" poster, you know the one.
Thanks though for thinking me witty enough for such a funny comment.
let the speculating end, it was me and i didn't feel like signing in to my blogger account to post it.
maybe i should have mentioned my delight about the mermaid slippers and it would have tipped you off?
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