Ying to the Yang. Opposites attract and you know it.
People marry for different reasons, she looked hot in the bright yellow bikini with green lacing, he made a bundle on Microsoft and sold at the right time so I can take in Dr. Phil’s advice daily while sitting in an Aruba penthouse suite, or because he/she completed me.
If someone took notice of my eight point five years of marriage to my wife and asked what the secret to a lasting marriage, I would scoff and kindly tell them to check with her as to why she hasn’t changed the locks yet. Our marriage is not one of Harlequin romance novels with cover showing the stallion of a man sporting a perfect six-pack on his stomach not in his hands swooning over the tatterly dressed shapely female. Its balancing patience for each other’s quirks, giving in here, but not there, its making sure there’s no doubt that if one falls the other is there to catch. Not a stretch considering the road conditions this morning were better fit for dog sleds then overpriced SUVs.
Even with that knowledge the best I can hope for is by the end of the day we’re talking to each other versus blowing up over who changed Kyra’s shitty underwear more times throughout the day (she won 4-2 yesterday, with a double dose right before bed time, this is going to make for some awkward dates in the future, maybe she’ll marry a German Poop porn collector who’s into that sort of thing). I, for the record, will never “get it”, one of these days I’ll understand just to give into the flow instead of turning over to stare at a the lime green clock showing a two for the first digit. Each day I give a little more into this union and stop the relentless pursuit of perfection where every day we have perfect simultaneous multiple orgasms before work, a tower of thick-cut hickory-smoked bacon waiting in the breakfast nook, kids happily climbing into their winter jackets, work flying by with text messages as to which chandelier we’ll swing from tonight, the perfect steak dinner while the kids sit attentively and tell us all about sledding with nana and pa, then topping of the night with Cristal and moves that would make half the actresses in Flipchip’s AVN photos blush.
Instead, I’m more inclined to shoot for a day that doesn’t suck. A smile, a slow peck on the lips, conversations that don’t end with “you’re an idiot”, a hug from two little ones, a steady paycheck, decent eats on the table, and getting my ass kicked in every word game put out on Facebook. Seriously, go look at my record on Scramble, I get beat more then some New York City tomato can that could have been a contender if his left hook hit harder then a two month old Burmese kitten.
Like Kid Icarus who flew too close to the sun only to crash and burn those wax wings, my take on this union of marriage is the same to stop fantasizing about perfection and work on contentment with a hint of daily improvement. Somewhere there’s a balance between Vegas-filled fantasy nights and sitting in front of must-see-TV learning about The O.C.’s likes and dislikes, giving up doing Black Belt Sudoku puzzles on the sunken couch while knitting an afghan.
I’m cooking up a poker post for Al’s place of employment over at Poker From the Rail sponsored by Full Tilt. There’s a bunch of words in my head but no direction which is pretty standard, once the outlines pops in, head out to check it out especially now with the FTOPS MCXXIII going on.
In other poker-y news, a question for those who go deep in big MTTs… if you’re a “recognizable” player as railbirds flock to be amazed of your ability to win coinflips, 2nd in chips with 19 left, six figures for first, and the chip leader is sitting at your table and has shown the inability to fold the Letter “A” regardless of board. Why would you attempt some elaborate call flop, check-raise all-in turn float for your nearly triple par stack (to non-poker player readers, my apologies for the poker lingo ass-plosion there)?
I'm sure there was a reason beyond my feeble knowledge of the game and lack luster results but being a semi-student of the game it seemed odd.
Why bring this up six years later?
The fans are finally starting to cheer again, I for one flicked it on Kerry Wood’s 20K game on the new MLB cable station when DP pointed it out and enjoyed watching guys like Biggio play the game with some grit and remembered why I was a fan.
Shit like this kills the average one to two games at the stadium a year fans. Stop it. It was before the policies were in place. What does shining the light on this do besides put your most recognized active player in bed with disgraced all-stars like Bonds and Clemens?
Did Bud Selig take an overdose of stupid with his bran muffin and $17 million contract?