Before meeting my fiancé, the most exposure I’d had to gambling was the occasional friendly late night nickel/dime/quarter poker games you have with friends after a night of partying when you eventually get bored and have nothing else to do.  Well, that was then – nowadays I’m upping my housewife potential by learning how to do things like make laundry detergent and not blow up the microwave every time I want to make macaroni and cheese (you’re supposed to make that in the microwave, right?).  It would seem that at 23 I’m officially retired from having a life :)

My future mother-in-law got me into the casino scene the first time she brought us along on one of her frequent trips to Dover  Downs.  I was amazed at the concept of a slot machine: You put in $20, pull the lever a couple times, and while you may win a dollar here and there, suddenly it’s all gone. While you’re disappointed for a few minutes, you move onto the next machine and do the same thing, only to rinse and repeat until you’re out a couple hundred and heading to the ATM to get more.  All you hope for is that one shot of hitting a jackpot – after all, a couple hundred bucks is nothing compared to thousands that can possible fall in your lap, right?

…Riiiight. The last time I was in Dover I hit a winning streak at one of the high-roller Blackjack tables.  I was at the table for a few hours, and as the night wore on the table was joined by a young man that looked like a complete train wreck. His eyes were all red and watery as if he hadn’t slept in days, and he was nervously shuffling his chips on the table with one hand while his left leg was shaking under the table.  He was bidding $100 a hand  and every time he ran out of chips he’d disappear for a few minutes and come back with more.  After the third time he just sat in the chair as if he’d given up all hope in life.  Ironically, a few minutes later his wife called him and I overheard her on his phone asking him why their credit card was declined when she went to the store to buy diapers. Ouch.  That was when I picked up my winnings, cashed out, and went about enjoying the other amenities of the casino.   I’ m getting married soon and Richie and I have a specific three-year plan that consists of getting married, having a child, and purchasing our own house – a plan that can be easily foiled by excessive gambling debts.

Now for me, it’s easy to not get addicted to gambling because the nearest casino is four hours away.  As most of you know, I live in Virginia (a commonwealth), and there’s no way they’re going to legalize gambling anytime soon…so it’s not like I have to pass by a casino on my way to work every day.  After all, if Virginia ends up spending all their federal funding on gambling-related bankruptcies they won’t be able to spend $19 million to widen a road.

I leave you with the following pro gambling tips:

• Only play with money that you are ok with losing
• Only play with money you have – never take loans or cash advances from your credit cards
• When you hit a winning streak and then inevitably start losing again, stop while you’re ahead
• Don’t rely on gambling to supplement your income – at the most you’re probably going to end up breaking even in the log run (remember, winning a $2000 jackpot is nothing if you lost $500 a month for the last year trying to win it)
• Instead of slots, try the card games – they require a little skill so it tends to be easier to win…
• …but don’t play the computerized card games. They are totally rigged.
• Give Poker Stars a try – you can download their little app and play poker online with real people (rather than the house) and, in addition to adding a little amusement to a lonely night, you’re likely to walk away with a couple extra bucks

I’d like to announce that my boyfriend of exactly 5 months has proposed to me…and of course I said yes!  We’re planning on getting married in mid-2011.

So if you read my post a little while back about my lasting suspicion that my roommates and I are giving room and board to a few unwanted furry little bastards, I can now confirm that my suspicion is correct. On Christmas eve I was doing some dishes and I noticed that Capone was staring blankly at a cabinet by the refrigerator. After Harley joined him and they both sat and stared at one for a good 10 minutes, I figured they just wanted something in the cabinet so I opened it up to see what was so appealing. I swear as soon as I did that Capone stuck his face in there and Harley pushed him aside and just dove in, pulling out something in her mouth as well as a shelf full of vases that came crashing to the floor.

It was about then that I heard this squeaking noise like what you hear in dog toys, and realized that she was carrying a big stinkin’ rat in her mouth. Though the thing had just gotten caught in a rat trap that our exterminator put in and was well alive and dangling out between Harley’s teeth, the entire kitchen started to smell like someone microwaved a dead fish wrapped inside a tortilla filled with pickles.

You can thank my sister Torie for wanting to document this experience by taking pictures:

So what do blood-hungry puppies do after catching furry intruders? Well, Capone says, “Please sir may I have another” :

Then they both pass out from a hard night’s work:

For Christmas this year my sisters and I bought my mom a Pomeranian that she named Teddy (though my sisters and dad subsequently named him Simon, Maverick, Titus, and Leo). Side note: here’s documented evidence that my Dad does indeed like dogs:

Now ask me why it took me 17 years to beg my dad for a dog, and I still didn’t get one until I was 20 when I was already out of the house. Anyways, we in the Vasile household believe that pets are as much part of a family as people are, which is why I animately insist that my son, Capone, and my niece, Harley, are the only grandkids that my parents are getting anytime soon. Well, this concept kept in mind, the addition of Teddy means that I have a new 4-year-old half brother. I’ve always been the youngest in the family but I’ve so far completely my sisterly duty of taking my little bro to see Santa clause with his uncle Capone:

Merry Christmas!!!

Well, my 21st birthday is finally here…yay! Of course, all that means to me is that I can now do everything I’ve already been doing for the last four years, only now I’d be doing it legally. So happy birthday to me, I’m getting plastered tonight.

FYI, no pics yet — the party is this Friday the 25th so I’ll have plenty then and I’ll post ‘em here.

My phrase last week was “sexual chocolate” — I have no idea where I heard it from or why I had such an urge to repeat it and linger on the laughter and dirty looks. I though it was something like chocolate that you use during, um, relations, but it appears that I was sooooo wrong as there are many meanings:

Meaning 1: A band in the movie “Coming to America”

Sexual Chocolate is the name of a Melbourne, AU cover band that performs in night clubs, not to be confused with the name of Eddie Murphy’s band in the 1988 movie “Coming to America” that performed Whitney Houston’s single “Greatest Love of All.”

Meaning 2: A song by Cee-lo with the following chorus:

They call it the – sexual chocolate
Eh, good God y’all – sexual chocolate
Ho, take it easy now – sexual chocolate
Hey, eh-eyyyy now now – sexual chocolate
Oooh, and they call it the – sexual chocolate
Ho, good God y’all – sexual chocolate
Huh, take it easy now – sexual chocolate
Ahhhh-hah hah-ahhhh-ahhhh – sexual chocolate

Meaning 3: A 60′s and 70′s term used to describe gay, black men.

Meaning 4: What this guy from Sparrows Point, Maryland calls himself on MySpace

Meaning 5: Something like 2girls1cup.com  (sorry, no link because it’s against our TOS)

Meaning 6: A sexy person dipped in chocolate

“Give me a piece of that sexual chocolate!”

However, The definition that won the prize was given quite bluntly on urbandictionary.com as  “chocolate that happens to be sexual

“

Thank you, urbandictionary.com, for being so politically correct in a time of crisis.

I heard some rumors that v-nessa.net is shutting down — not quite true folks…but I can tell you why my frequency of posting is amiss.   Those of you in the technology field know how it is…and in case you all haven’t been following me in Twitter and aren’t one of my designated stalkers, you probably don’t know what my schedule is like:

• Between 8-1 Mon-Thurs I’m at school either learning about things I’m not going to use in my job field, or wallowing in a hangover that I have no idea how I got
• Between 1-wee hours of the night Mon-Fri I’m at work listening to screaming two-year-olds otherwise known as “servers”, and racking the last two brain cells I have left on programming and troubleshooting the oddities that come along with the people that want to be difficult
• On Sat. mornings I usually unwind in Croatan catching some waves, which, aside from rapid typing and mouse wiggling, is the only physical activity I get.  When night time falls I’m usually at the bar or having a party at my house wondering when I’m going to meet a guy that isn’t a complete asshole
• On Sundays I devote ~2-3 hours of my time to answering the shit ton of emails I get from this website and dealing with various other projects I’m involved in
• A couple times a month I’m asked to speak at tech, Linux, and PHP student conferences at various types of events, which would be a flattering opportunity if I was a naturally more tactful person and therefore not worried about dropping f-bombs in a room full of technology-persuing Christian undergrads

I am pretty drained though – on nights that I actually get to sleep I maybe get 4-5 hours worth, and I’ve been a bit on the cranky side lately.  I did perk up though during class while reading the Dreamhost blog

…what a bunch of silly jokes those guys are.

My house is right in front of the Tallwood woodlands so it’s not uncommon for me to wake up to find possums, squirrels, and raccoons in my garage or upstairs where they come in through the attic. There’s also the rare occasion of snakes on the patio and in the trash cans. Really, none of those bother me because I love animals but the two things I’m deathly afraid of are spiders and rats. Luckily we don’t have a big spider infestation around here but I am 100% sure of the fact that a couple of rats have made my house into their personal condo and playground. I bring forth the following evidence:

Exhibit #1: Bachelor pads under the washing machine and behind the furniture:

We’re having the plumbing and floors redone on one side of the house and when the boys moved the furniture they found nests of fiberglass, dog food, and rat poop in the corner

Exhibit #2: Suspicious hole behind the toilet in one of the master bathrooms

I know that this wasn’t here before because this bathroom was just remodeled. Take note of the wood shavings on the floor and the telltale chew marks on the wall.

Exhibit #3:

This really has nothing to do with the rat situation but I saw this box at my dad’s house and I think it looks kinda like boobs.

I should also mention that on three occasions we’ve seen the dogs go nuts and start chasing an unidentified moving object around the house.

So either the rats start paying rent and contributing to the $90 a month I spend on dog food, or they can have a date with the hot A-Active guy (who, by the way, is welcome to come over with his hose any time).

For the last four years by dad has been filing my taxes for me so I was all proud to be doing them myself this year…that is, until I got a letter from the IRS stating that I’d miscalculated my Federal tax return and I have another chance to get it right before they order an “audit”. Since then I found out that there are at least three rules when it comes to filing your taxes:

1. You can’t file your puppy as a dependent, even if you pay for his food, housing, and medical care
2. Excessive consumption of alcohol due to occupational stress does not count as a work-related expense, even if you kept the receipts from the liquor store for the last 7 months
3. Sending in naked pictures will not get you a bigger refund, but it will probably prompt a call from a lonely guy named Larry who just happened to be the agent typing your rejection notice

So I hope everyone here learns from my some anonymous person’s mistakes….happy tax season!

I know, I know, I took forever posting these after filtering out the ones that were NQSFW.  I hosted a Christmas party at my house last week where my sister was the designated photographer, so you can see the pictures she took here.

p.s., don’t ask me any specifics…I wish I could remember the context of half of the pics but a bottle of Stoli and Captain Morgan helped me forget.