I've hit several types of rock bottom, all to do with gambling.
Now I've gambled away my life.
When I lived in Las Vegas, betting was the norm. Pauly and I made prop bets all the time: the color of the flop, the outcome of the old Excalibur poker wheel, what kind of car the waitress drove (and if we both lost, the money added to her tip).
In Key West and Chicago, I've made props with Donkey Puncher: who would be the first poker blogger to get up out of their armchair (all were asleep watching football), the over/under on number of tattoos on the waitress, how long it would take Bobby Bracelet to spend in the bathroom.
These were all small bets -- prop = fun.
Not until getting to Chicago did the bets get larger. Friends and I will wager 50-50 bets on games, typically going double-or-nothing until the loser cries uncle. I've lost half my paycheck on these games.
Now we flip coins for meals. After continually losing these things (how can I expect to win an even 50-50 bet if I can't win in poker when I'm an 80-20 favorite?), one friend proposed a new bet.
A single coin flip for $100 per paycheck for life.
I refused, then he dropped the period to 1 year.
I again refused but countered with a coin flip to get on the other's company life insurance policy as sole beneficiary.
At work, our life insurance is twice our annual salary.
We're both single with no kids, so true heirs are irrelevant, at least to me. I'll be dead anyway, so life insurance to me is meaningless.
It does, however, affect grubette and mamagrub, who are my beneficiaries splitting evenly (along with the stipulation that they take the money to Vegas and gamble 10 percent of it).
My friend agreed to the terms but dropped to 25 percent of the other's life insurance for a period of 5 years. And if either leaves the company for whatever reason, the agreement is nulled.
We were at a Chinese restaurant, already flipping the quarter for other things and generally making a lot of noise.
The quarter was flipped one more time, and I called heads.
Tails.
I called HR and had the papers drawn up.
Sorry, grubette and mamagrub, you're now splitting 75 percent in case you're wondering who the strange man is at the will reading and next to you at the blackjack table.
And now, at least for the next 5 years (which I've been given anywhere from 50:1 to 200:1 chances of dying naturally), I'll be watching my back.
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