Stretching

Until the damn dam breaks, I'm gonna do Pauly's 10-minutes-a-day writing exercise, keep the chops working, the gravitas honed to a fine edge.

Played an token race with drizz and easycure (in which we each miraculously snared a Peep) the other day and the (incessant) table chat reminded me of a story from a few years back. I was seated at TGIFridays ('cause that's how I roll) with a couple attractive female co-workers, one of whom was trying to catch the eye of a dashing young man in an ill-fitting jacket. It seemed she succeeded, as he sauntered over. Just before he reached the table, he stopped, turned up his nose as if startled by some scent and said to the girls, "Do you guys smell fish?"

Not the best opener, fellas.

My lunch today, mediocre Mexican fare from the lunchroom, cost $6.66. I have a zit on my left cheek that is so big it's blocking a substantial portion of my peripheral vision, as if I'm sitting behind a tall guy at the movie theater. I ate sushi for dinner last night, the third time I've done so in the last month. In the previous 39 years, I had sushi once, in 1986, an incident that ended traumatically, and without me getting laid.

I moneyed in the Full Tilt 8K last night, doubling my buy-in, but mis-playing a hand late that crippled me. I tried very hard to concentrate and did a good job. I was helped that the plays I did make were rewarded and not victimized by those draws coming in. I got three big pocket pairs, all of them UTG, and played each differently, winning two of the three. Zig and zag, baby. Also on the poker front, I've got a Horse in the Main Event. One percent of one, at least. I've also contracted to feed him grapes and fan him with palm fronds if he advances to later rounds. Kudos and best of luck to Ryan and Zeem in The Show. Sometimes I almost forget I was one turned 4-outer from joining them. But now I remember.

Tilt.