Bringing the Casino(skillz) to Korea!

No, actually it’s illegal to gamble here. It’s for the best. LAWD knows I’d be in troubbbllleee.

I was hanging out at school this past Friday preparing for a testing day by… checking Facebook. On the group created for my town in Korea, someone put up a post asking if anyone wanted to play poker. I couldn’t get in on the action because 1. I’m broke 2. I haven’t played since I left pre-Thailand 3. I’m broke. But I watched as a few guys responded to the post saying they wanted to join. After about 5 people joined in, an official event was started.

*insert mischievous grin* “I may not be able to play,” the grinchess thought, “..but maybe I can make them pay!”

Old memories of my times at the casino flooded my brain. I messaged the game-starter and mentioned my services. He said ‘I guarantee you’ll leave with 40K tonight’ (((keep in mind.. 40K in won… not dollars))) So I told him i’d get there after school.

School ended, I ran outside to catch a bus. *Insert an hour of trying to figure out which bus to catch from where I was* The game had started at 9:30p… I got out of work at 10pm…I didn’t get there until 11pm. 😦

But the game was still on! I had lotion and stretched my hands. And since this isn’t the casino…. I had myself a lovely gin and tonic. *content smile*

I offered 10 minutes for 7Kwon. I did two 30 minutes sessions and a 10 min session. After a couple of drinks, a horrible game of darts,  and a basket of chicken strips ((omg chicken strips!!))  I left. .. with 40K (won). AND a couple of new clients. One who will hopefully be a regular, and since I know his wife, they’ll be a couple of regulars 🙂

HIGH FIVE FOR MASSAGE DURING POKER SKILLS!!

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Comparable

If anyone walked into the poker room before noon, they would ask themselves if they accidentally walked into a bingo hall instead. There are SO many old men there it is isn’t funny… or it is because old men can be funny.

Many of them are war veterans of this or that war. At least once a day I hear them say “I’m too old” or “My bones couldn’t handle a massage” or whatever. I know the excuses and I smile nicely and walk on.

Recently however, I had an influx of men who fought in ‘Nam. And they LOVE to tell me that they had a massage once… over in some asian country where the girls give REALLY GOOD massages.

Old men “I fought in ‘Nam. I was stationed at one point in Thailand. I definitely got massages there. They were only a few bucks too. Great massages”

Me “But I doubt we give the same type of massages”

Old men “No honey, I hope not! Haha. and if my wife ever found out…”

Thank you old men for comparing my massages to those of hookers in thailand.

Stinky people

People who gamble seriously take gambling serious. As mentioned, I see people gambling not just $5 bets.. $500 bets on a regular basis.

In the poker room, players will sit there for hours upon hours playing cards and losing their money (and then winning it back and then losing it again, etc). I started my shift around 10 am and immediately got a massage. There was a particularly ghetto guy playing at Table 14 across from my massage. His friend was playing there as well. His friend mentioned he has to get back home to get his kid and since he was the sober of them, they needed to leave in an hour. Ghetto guy agreed and went back to singing especially loud and off key to the pure enjoyment of the entire table. I’m still a bit tired so I encourage this character by laughing a few times at his incredible (horrible) singing abilities. At some point I suppose he starts to notice because he starts to lower his glasses at me and smile.MMmmmmm, nothing turns a girl on like gold-framed teeth. He loses a few hands, wins a few hands, then tells his friend to F*** off when it’s time to leave. He can find his own damn ride home! He’s a grown-ass man who is capable of getting a taxi! (Mind you he lives 125+ miles away).

After I finish my massage, I go on break. When I come back, a supervisor asked for me to head to table 14. I approach the table hoping it was my previous client again but alas and alack! it is Ghetto guy requesting me! He doesn’t really want a massage though, he says as he leans in close. He wants to get to know me because I am a beautiful girl and he knows I’m working so this is how he decides to wooooooo me. The little darling says he’ll pay for 5 minutes of massage (That would be $10, I see about $4 of that, and hope I get a tip) but he doesn’t want me to massage him… he just wants me to touch him. And, baby, does he smell gooooooood!  Like an expired pack of cigarettes all smoked at once with a slight undertone of sweat mingling with a hint of vodka red bull.
Like any good therapist, I use my Peppermint & Lavender scented Badger Balm (from Cracker Barrel, mind you!) on his neck immediately. About two minutes later he turns around and pushes me away: “You have this amazing power to make me feel really high right now. I’m too high for this to play and drunk. I’ll call you back over to get to know you a bit better later. Here’s the money plus a nice tip.” (Total: $15 for 2 minutes.. Meh, I’ll take it)

Not too long later (about 5 hours) I come back around offering massage and the guy takes off his glasses and stands up. He is obviously about to be dramatic and he’s halting the game.

He says “You. Miss Shannon. You rubbed that massage shit on me.”

I say “It’s actually not shit, it’s balm. It’s a lavender and peppermint scent.”

He says “Well I prefer my Burberry more better”

I say “More better huh? Well that’s grammatically correct!”

He says “You talkin shit?”

I say “No sir, I talk truth.”

While the table laughs at my friendly banter and his outraged responses, he accidentally throws some money into the pot and then realizes he wasn’t supposed to do that. His accidental raise caused him to accidentally start swearing toward me and I walked away shaking my head.

Luckily it was my last day there so I didn’t have to worry about the response. . . He was smell and drunk anyway. For shits and giggles (which I already had at this guys expense) I decided to google how much a cab ride would be for this guy to go home:

~$330

🙂 I guess the taxi driver gets the last laugh.

A Type of Massage

Me (approaching a poker table): May I offer anyone here a tableside massage?

Player: Not that kind of massage, sweetheart
((oh, he thinks he is SO funny))

Me: Okay, well how about I massage your wallet instead?

I prefer egg whites…

I overheard a guy saying this in the pokerroom… too good to pass up:

 

Guy: The first night I slept at her house, the next morning she asked how I want my eggs and I replied “Brought to me”

 

WHAT!! I would have thrown the eggs in his face! Anyway, too funny. and for future reference… read the title of the entry.

I’d like to buy a vowel!

In the poker room at the casino, a guy stopped me and asked me (once again) what I was. As always I reply awesome! (thank you NPH as Barney Stinsen on HIMYM)

He laughed of course and said, “Nahh, I mean are you Russian?”

Me: Nope.

He nodded and said, “You look really familiar.” (Gee, what an original line)
I replied that I do work in the casino and have been for several months.
He asked, “Are you from Atlanta?”
And I gave him the biggest, most excited smile I could muster up: “Actually!.. no. I’m from Orlando. You’re close! By 9 hours of driving.. AND both cities start with a vowel and end with a vowel!”

(Enter 12 seconds of lapsed time)
Man: … Oh! Ah! Haha! That’s funny. Real cute.

Ya. Took ya a minute, huh, buddy?

What am I?

What am I?

I’ve been informed that I have what others call a “unique” look. Although my hair color changes as often as the weather, my features stay relatively the same. I am often asked “What are you?” The most often asked is Italian. While I may “look” Italian (i really dont think i do) the only thing Italian is my stomach’s soul.

On an average night at the casino, I get asked once what I am. And I make them guess until they realize they never will guess correctly.

On one particularly fun-filled evening, a gentleman (ha!) who I can only describe as “SHWASTED” decided to ask me that question.

 

Man: What are you?
Me: A Massage Therapist
Man: No, but what ARE you?

Me: Awesome?
Man: Are you Italian?
Me: Oh. Nope. Not Italian.
Man: Greek?
Me: Nope.
Man: Ukranian?
Me: What? No!
Man: Jewish?
Me: Jewish is not listed as a country, sir.

 

For future reference, I’m a New York South African from Florida. Unique, indeed.

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