Today I have been married for nine years, I'll reserve judgement and comments on my partnership with my wife until tonight where I'll be expecting a show only seen in Amsterdam's red light district in the bedroom.
Actually, a quiet dinner at Pittsburgh Blue without dashing a three year old to the bathroom while catching a thrown mini corn dog mid-flight before it hits the blue haired lady behind us would surpass five seconds of naked fun.
A sappy marriage post may be in the works, adjust your internets while clicking here accordingly.
I hope if StB ever takes a journey south to see his beloved Cowboys that he's holding a winning Powerball ticket.
Original story from Lincoln Journal Star:
Tuesday’s tour took our group into a suite that can be leased for $800,000 a year — which doesn’t include the price of game or event tickets but does offer a large pizza for $90 (no toppings), 12-packs of domestic beer for $66 apiece and a four-pack of Red Bull for $22, among other ridiculously priced items.
The beer price isn't horrible, actually cheaper than most places if you think about it but $90 for a cheese pizza and $800K for suites without being able to get into the stadium? Are these prices you want to trot out during an economically unstable time for the US of A? I wonder if Mr. Jones' merchandising director is Gordon Gekko.
Yesterday I got a rare reprive as what stressed me originally actually became a blessing. The US Bank saga continued as I was told 8:30am sharp there would be a super important inspector guy at my doorsteps waititing to take a fine tweezer to my abode that was recently sealed with lavish mountain gray siding to procure a simple signature of a bank that has no rights to the insurance check that holds a final payment to the contractor sitting beneath a pile of coupons and Mr. Potato Head parts on my kitchen counter.
8:30 rolls and my daughter decides that its a good time to see just how much toilet paper our commode can handle after making into the bathroom on time (a win or a push?). But, no Dickies-dressed bank rep.
Call comes a few minutes after with apologies that he'll drop by a little before noon. Now, I'm torn. All dressed up for work but a beautiful day out and two kids that I don't get to spend enough time with. Quick thinking, I check with work and they're covered so Kyra got a daddy to play with for a few hours outside while collecting 67% of the dirt of the backyard on her "Catch Me If You Can" pink t-shirt. And Wyatt got to see Transformers 2 for next nearly three (really?!?!) hours.
(Sidebar about the movie: First film I've seen in a theater in over a year, hearing aids made the action pop out which rocked, but words were still a little difficult to follow. Megan Fox's ass shots however were very easy to gaze at, but they seemed to try too hard to get those shots and it didn't blend with the movie that well, not that I minded the skin of course and what was with that metal tentacle tongue thing coming out of the hot chick's blue lace panties trying to strangle Sam, me thinks the writers spend too much time in Japan recently.)
What started as another bitch-fest at a bank I will never do business with again if I can help it, turned into a day of fun for the kids and a night that would end with me meeting my father-in-law and my wife's half-brothers out at Running Aces for cards and ponies. The poker part I'll probably post here in the next few days. Sadly the $4/$8 w/half kill O8 game was not running so I took my six racks of whites to a $2/$4 LHE table and watched various people with $20-$60 stacks get pissed versus having fun with the overdressed guy in the seven seat seemingly giving away money and drinks.
I made $13 beyond tips, drinks (which you had to pay for), and playing 95% of the hands some blind some not. Entertainment for one I guess despite my efforts to play the part of the drunken gambler in front of an audience that was more suited up emotionaly for a funeral.