Consider my horse-races cherry popped! Saturday night my Splurge group strutted their stuff into Marquis Downs to place bids on some fine equestrian breeds, and learn a thing or two about the art of gambling. After we dodged all the stray horse sh*t that had made its way out into the parking lot we felt luck was on our side. Walking into the majestic track we thought we were at the Kentucky Derby. Surrounded by women in large hats of all sorts we wondered if we were under-dressed for the occasion. It turned out that coincidentally both a stagette and a going-away party had both decided that the largest, floppiest beach hats were just the appropriate attire for their groups and we were just lame, costume-less spectators.
I would not consider myself a gambler whatsoever. I think it results in the fact that I'm too cheap to potentially lose money that I could otherwise be spending shopping. I had been to Vegas 3 times before I had even so much as put more than a dollar in the slot machine.
As the 9th race came to an end I took my tickets to the cashier to find out what my winnings had accumulated to. $11.80. Yup, you could say I'm pretty much a professional gambler now. Don't be surprised if you find me there on my lunch break sporting a visor and making deals with the bookies so I don't lose the house. Sadly, I only got my taste of the races at the very end of the season. I guess that means I can take the winter to practice smoking menthol cigarettes and coining the term "Marquis, baby, Marquis!".
