You just ran your 11,435th diaper genie bag out to the garbage.
Your clients decide today is the day I will be a total prick just because I can.
Your wife scowls at you for letting your son sleep in your bed, then he proceeds to toss and turn keeping the wife awake while you dream of WSOP bracelets and some double jointed stripper named Rain at Spearmint Rhino.
Every river card seems to get you closer to blood pressure red-lining and on the verge of breaking things (but to be fair there were several times I should have folded/stopped playing).
The shy kid with K-Fed's latest tracks feeding through his baby blue colored iPod in front of you at Arby's is trying coyly to make a play at the obivously not interested Lindsay Lohan-like cashier while you're waiting to order the 5 for $5.95 special and get home in time for the Matlock marathon. You refrain from offering sage advice to both of them such as: "Just tell her you want to bend her over the counter, nail her like the chicks from teenyboppers.com (definitely NSFW), and spread your special version of Arby's sauce all over her face and visor". Or "Just order your fuckin sprout Panini and go spend the next 15 years in therapy trying to figure out why you didn't at least try to ask her out"
I'm helpful like that.
But once in a while the world throws you a bone.
Thank you for accepting my post Full Tilt (bonus code: Drizz99). Once again you show me how much you rock despite my fishy poker playing ways. Maybe one of these days I'll be good enough to actually believe that I can consistently make a little coin at this game.
Thanks for dropping by, now go hit up CC's PokerWorks game tonight on Stars. After last night's session I need to cool off, so if I do show up at least bring the peppermint lotion for me. The burning sensation from last night's attempt to give away money still hasn't abated.