Wet Dreams

My close friends love to tell me that “if your dick wasn’t attached to you, you’d probably lose it”. I guess I could always follow the peppermint smell if I didn’t leave in some golf course clubhouse bathroom to find my baby maker. Its funny how memory works, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but I can tell you about Little Drizz farting on my pillow and trying to look innocent about it. I could write about how my wife was as quiet as four lane highway coming out of Minneapolis at 4:30 on a Friday as I climbed into bed last night.

But, you’d think I could remember where I put my wallet.

After all there’s important stuff in there like those free drink coupons for Alleygator’s. The drinks were courtesy of drunken bowling night when I matched the pre-determined drink score in the tenth frame by ceremoniously throwing two gutter balls in exchange for a business card exclaiming my athletic prowlness on the oiled maple lanes.

Pictures of Little Drizz showing a chronological storyline from a little mass of cuteness up to the big, blue-eyed toddler that he is today.

My betting slip from the Plaza last year proclaiming the Twins (so. mad. can’t. talk. about. them. right. now.) to defeat the Yankees of New York. Not only did they lose, a certain live blogging gonzo writer took a fin-ski off me as a side bet (of course the Twins won the series, and I managed to get Abe Lincoln’s portrait back into my black leather wallet before leaving sin city).

A coupon for a free slushy at Target. Getting a slushy at Target doesn’t have the same feel as walking five blocks in the summer time as kid after a neighborhood baseball game to enter the corner 7-Eleven or Circle K and purchase a cup of the swirling ice and syrup goodness. When I go by the diamonds that the 10 or 12 kids gathered on many summer days just a few years ago *cough* more like 20 years *cough* there’s no games going on despite two elementary schools in the area. I guess kids today are more inclined to blast out new high scores on their Xbox 360’s instead of keeping tabs in a notebook on the home runs hit by Brian or BJ.

My poker bankroll. Nice crisp hundreds and twenties, the “roll” isn’t as fat as it once was. Purchasing a poker trophy like a laptop is spendy, not to mention twenty dollars here and there for dinner at Applebee’s or a new train for Little Drizz when the checkbook is showing not-so-black ink. “You need better bankroll management!!” may be a cry from the masses. My working poker bankroll set apart from the mass of wet bills splashed across on my dining room table at this moment. They are virtual American dollars (and Euros, I love me some Euros!!!) spread out over cyberspace in different pixelized card rooms and bank accounts.

“Dave where did you have your wallet last?” asked the bellied one

I sighed as I searched the front seat of the car. Finding some expired Subway and KFC coupons, $9.99 for a 15 piece meal WITH BISCUITS! Yum. A ticket that comes with one of Little Drizz’s Thomas the Tank Engine trains, this one belonged to Lady and yes she’s a really useful engine. Glove box had nothing more then the owner’s manual and some skee-ball tickets for Grand Casino Hinckley.

And then as I walked through the mud room into the downstairs family room, hearing the washer and dryer doing their duty… I vaguely remembered coming home after the poker tournament and having my wallet in my jeans pocket.

“But she would have noticed the bulge and pulled it out”

Nope.

I pulled open the dryer searching thru the semi-soaked clothes to find one very wet wallet stored in my Levis front pocket. I let out an audible sigh as I walked upstairs, knowing my wife would say something about my unmistakable aloofness that surrounds me. She didn’t disappoint as I got a lecture on remembering things and I went back to happily snarfing down the leftover BBQ beef my mom shipped over for dinner tonight.

Don’t ask me to remember to bring the chicken casserole and crock pot to the pot luck, but if you need to know the last five sets of doorcards and how people bet them while playing Razz or Stud, I’m your man.

Selective memory?

I think that’s what Minnesota Twins fans are using right now while cheering for their team.

Thanks for dropping by, now if you’re stuck in a rut while blogging go check out Bill Rini's latest 2 part post. I’m not sure what my “voice” is besides bad grammar and a few metaphors that hit the mark less then the Twins starting pitching rotation (sorry couldn’t help it). But, I do appreciate people’s kind comments about the words I throw up into the internet.

Thanks again folks.