So, folks, it’s been a while, because, well…I’M BORING. My hope and my challenge are that something even remotely interesting might happen before I can finish this run-on sentence — which is unlikely at best, when you consider that I’m sitting all alone in front of a computer monitor at 12:25 a.m. on Saturday night.
My poker addiction continues. I’ve gained nothing from it but grief. I lose way more often than I win. Yet, I keep playing and telling myself that I’m a good player. In no other area of my life do I delude myself quite so readily. The fact that I called poker an “area of my life” should hint at how far the delusion has seeped in. Seriously, it’s a sickness, and it’s all gonna end in tears.
I was watching poker on t.v. the other day, and one of the players admitted that a lot of his game is luck, or at least that’s what I think he said. The actual quote was more like, “Even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then.” What the fuck?! Do pigs prefer acorns to, say, even their own feces?! If so, I NEED DOCUMENTATION! I’d almost understand if this guy was like eighty years old and talking in bad albeit charmingly colloquial analogies, but the man was maybe twenty at most and already way too far down the road to the funny farm.
Anyway, be kind to me, because I’ve probably only got a precious few months before I’m saying crazy shit on television. Even a blind donkey falls into a bucket of apples when there are apples in the road (which are in a bucket). Yeah. See. It’s like that.
My only hope is that once I lose my mind there will be enough of a change in my behavior so that someone will actually notice. My record on the sanity issue hasn’t been good this week. I accidentally put regular dish-washing liquid in the dishwasher. Well, let me re-phrase that. I purposely put it in, I just didn’t know what I was putting in. See, I had bought the wrong thing, which happens sometimes when you don’t bother to read the large print on an item that you put in your shopping cart. Then, once I had the wrong item home, I still didn’t read the label, because it was like two whole words long and who has time for that literary shit when there are dishes to be done, right?
Anyway, I unknowingly sabotaged the dishwasher and went off to bed, leaving Michael to find a floor full of suds in the kitchen. He cleaned up my mess and told me about it the next morning. My poor, dear, long suffering Ricky Ricardo! He should shoot me in the head and be done. He could have me gaze off into the distance and tell me how it’s gonna be when me and him live off the land and get some rabbits and I’ll get to tend them rabbits and…BAM. All’s well that ends well.
To Be Continued…