Word: everly
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Dates: during 2000-2000
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...just what kind of person gives good mullet? According to La Flamme's hair stylist extraordinaire Kim Abreu, today's requests for the dubious style, which have become less frequent ever since a fellow employee took a pair of scissors to his own mullet, originate mainly from hockey players and those stuck in the '80s. Abreu explains that they seek "a bi-level look that doesn't quite connect," the benchmark of a good mullet. However, she vehemently denies ever giving anyone a mullet by accident or even wanting to give anyone a mullet. Ever...
...wander to the race book and bingo rooms of the casino. Both are dead, but they won't stay that way for long. Sunday will be a big day for high stakes bingo in Connecticut, just as it has been ever since Foxwoods, just down the road in Ledyard, opened its first bingo game in 1986. Which reminds me, I'm going to Foxwoods. And I'd better...
...restroom, the ATM and the smoking section of the casino floor. Gone for less than five minutes, I return to find Tony replaced by Annie, a shuffle of the 8-deck shoe in progress and the largest white man I have ever seen sitting in my spot. My marker is gone and in its place is $10 worth of his money. At first, I shoot my new friend a mean look. But, from beneath his Fubu ski cap, he shoots me a meaner one. I demur. He's gone after two hands and I resume my place...
...life to the casinos clearly feel bad for the players too. What doubtless keeps them from seeing the gaming public as a mass of self-defeating trash is that many of them play the same games they deal on their own free time. When asked if she ever plays, Annie, middle-aged with Clairol red hair, responds in hushed tones, "What the fuck else would I be doing here?" How demure...
...brief series of panels on a wall describes the gaming operation and its impact upon the community. Next to these, a mocked-up slot machine stands as a model of what has brokered the reservation's transformation. As I read one of the panels, the whitest man I have ever seen, complete with massive gut, Boston accent and wife in tow, passes in front of me, headed for the slot machine. He looks around nervously and surreptitiously removes his wallet from his back pocket. He opens it and takes out a $1 bill, which he repeatedly attempts to feed into...