quit my job as International superstar Blackjack Dealer, to become, shockingly enough, and unemployed international Superstar Blackjack dealer. It's great - I get to sit around all day, do nothing and watch tv, sparing a thought every now and then for the poor multitudes who have to go to work each and every day. My heart goes out to them, it really does.But enough about them, back to me. I quit my casino job partly because I wanted a semblance of a social life back; even if that meant sitting at home watching the telly with one or more of my housemates, at least I wouldn't have to clamber into the car at 7:30pm every night and drive to an 8 hour shift. The other reason was the customers - I grew to hate them with a passion, a factor that increased exponentially over Christmas with all the extra business due to the plebs being on holiday (I remember those). On the whole obnoxious, arrogant and rude, there is something strange that happens when a person sits down at a casino table; they might be the nicest person in the world, but once they assume the position on the stool they tend to undergo a transformation into a tit. A great big tit.
Despite this I have to say I loved my 6 months as an International superstar black
jack dealer, and its something I'll never forget. But it's time to move on, because at the end of January I turned .... (dramatic music) 27.... 27 long years walking God's green (and let's face it, these days somewhat polluted and chaotic) Earth. And to celebrate I had a kiwi BBQ, and went to the zoo. For whatever reason there was a reggae band playing(name of Katchafire for those NZ reggae aficionados), and me, the monkeys and Jake the Elephant all had an excellent time. Thank you for asking.This quite egoistical and indulgent celebration of my birth was followed by a week of camping New Zealand style, which involved rocking up to a wonderful beach on the Coromandel, 4 hours to the East of Auckland, with my housemate Mark, and spending a week doing a lot of swimming, fishing, and sitting. Lots of sitting, I can't emphasise that enough. Lots. Kiwi camping is basically you drive to the coast, erect a huge tent, have everything you normally have at home save the telly, computer and toaster, and then do nothing. Personally I like it. Of course I thought we w
ere going for the minimalist wilderness camping where you have nothing but your wits and a trusty pen knife to survive, thus I was woefully unprepared. This had nothing to do with the fact I don't own many useful items..... Anyway Mark basically had two of everything in the back of his Big Yellow Car of Fun (tm) so I was grand.27, camping under the stars beside an awesome beach in the middle of nowhere, New Zealand without a care in the world.
Ain't life grand?
