If this were a poker post, I'd throw in a thought about lucksacking my way to a win with the bloggers this weekend. No, not in the BBT 5, as the talented pen of Jeremiah Smith erased me in the long line of bad luck I've had in these tourneys with another bad beat. Thanks again to Al Cant Hang and Poker From the Rail for their great set up in sending a few bloggers to the WSOP on their dime once again.
Instead I spent the weekend that was supposed to be "let's-let-daddy-catch-up-on-sleep-weekend". Well, everyone who said life slows down after marriage and kids can lick my humidity induced sleep-deprived taint that does not feel quite as bad as the adolescent shown below (thank you Olivia Munn and Attack of the Show for providing some laughs but damn that sounds painful):
The humidity did not help my "day off" in which I got to play parent for four kids from 6am - 1pm at my parent's home which still employs the "open the freezer door for air conditioning" standard. Fine for persons with access to pouring themselves a drink every 15 minutes, not so good for a 6 month old toddler or persons who had to calm said screaming toddler.
Continued fun on the day consisted of watching my daughter "play" t-ball for the first time. Still dazed and confused like a med student forced to take their MCATs from a reflection on a funhouse mirror as "Paradise" is blown thru 5 18-foot speaker towers, I was a looking forward to watching my baby tune up for her future ticket to college via softball. Instead, of some Pete Rose-esque hussle I got to watch this:
Except Ramirez actually keeps his cap and glove on and doesn't demand his hair be put up in a different pony tail every five minutes. Sit on the infield? Check. Throw glove? Check. Pout? CheckCheckCheck. Need a drink? This one I don't really her because it was hot, but the kids did get a break every ten minutes while she took one every five. Thanks to the Patti LaBelle diva showcase on the field, daddy and the family did not get the promised dilly bars from Dairy Queen on the ride home, instead we were treated to more crying and whining.
But, like any responsible parent after tucking in the offending child, a loooooooong pull off a handle in a relaxing chair made the silence sound like a peaceful orchestra playing a sweet, airfilled melody to let the torn body heal up for June which is shaping up to be just as crazy as May. If anyone has a handy replacator I could use about three of myself next month.