A $21.00 Ass and the Stolen Bathroom Scale

A $21.00 ASS

My husband and I recently went to the casino.  It was a tiny one in a large warehouse. When I asked if there was somewhere to get food, I was directed to the convenience store next door that had 3 tables and many varieties of fried liver. I am not really into gambling but I do like some of the slot machines.  I came across one that I wanted to play just for its content value for my blog.  So $21.00 dollars later I finally got what I wanted. The letters spelled out A-S-S.  Yes!  $21.00 at 50 cents a swipe means I pushed the damn button 42 times.  All I wanted was the word “Ass.”  Not “Sass,” not “As,” but “Ass.”  I am sure those around me thought I had won a shit ton of money as excited as I was to FINALLY see the word “ASS” come up.  If nothing else, I am pretty sure I amused the hell out of the guy sitting next to me.  Got my Ass, took the picture and left.  I won.

Ass Slot



I am not sure how this actually happened, but somehow our bathroom scale was stolen.  Because we always kept it in the cabinet below the sink in the master bathroom and now it is no where to be found. I have no idea how long because I just assumed my husband had moved it and he assumed I had (because who really weighs themselves on a regular basis, right?) but when we finally asked each other where it was, no one knew.

I will confess that I was most probably the last person who touched it.  I did try to weigh myself and it didn’t work so I took out the battery and put it in my purse to replace it next time I went to the store. It took me four months to remember to buy the damn battery.  Two months after that, I found it sitting on the counter in the kitchen and moved it to the bathroom counter.  One month after that I pulled out the scale and replaced the battery and then…Pooof.  Missing.  Gone.  I’m not even sure I weighed myself after I got it working again (I’m sure that if I did, I had lost 10 pounds).  Once my husband found out I had lost the bathroom scale, he was a man on a mission.  He went to every bathroom and every closet.  Even got the flashlight and looked under the bed.  I was helpful.  I asked my dog, Abbey, if she had seen it.  Or maybe remembered what I did with it. She was of no help. So now our scale is missing and it is driving us crazy to know what happened to it.  I think someone broke in and stole it.  There really is no other explanation.  And damn, now I really want to weigh myself.

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