Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Five O'Clock 500

The weather was nothing to scoff at as the tight hairpin turn approached. Snow laced the fabled track and gave the drivers fits as they couldn't afford to be aggressive as their nature demands them to be. The crew chief donned in Ferrari red from head to toe explained the extra precautions while giving a little extra slide to compensate for the slickness of the Le Mans track. But, Mario knew if he gave an inch that hot shot Ray Anderson from America of all places would take over the point lead and have his way with those sponsored podium ladies with the cans that stretched the fabric of their skintight yellow Rolex jumpsuits.

No, he was going to push this car to the edge of every thread those tires would take him to get that big silver chalice and the paid for pussy. Suddenly without warning Ray's Chevy Trailblazer started spinning in his rear view mirror and after a small internal laugh everything went white...

After a few minutes "Mario" who's name was really Mark, stood outside of his rusting cherry red Honda Accord trying desperately to dig himself out of the blanketed ditch filled with Minnesota's finest snow and sludge-leftovers from the freshly plowed Hwy. 169 cursing himself that his one-foot-out-the-door wife probably would blame him for stopping at The Lookout again on the way home to play his paycheck at the pull tab booth while leering at the bartender's chest with every Miller High Life ordered.

Ray or myself DID get home in time, but failed to land the model. Instead he was quite content with out being an idiot thru the bad driving conditions yesterday and was rewarded with fresh double bacon cheeseburgers, stories about his son's school trip to a local pizzeria, and some grab-ass with the wife before she headed off to her women's volleyball league.

I looked for the rental car decals or out-of-state plates but no it was a slew of home grown folks with make shift shovels and scrapers trying to not look like newbies in their work clothes before giving up and taking the $100-$200 hit by getting towed. All in the name of impressing some phantom clock that sits uptop of their rushed heads.


I will not be rushing home, but I will be playing (not more crack-addled Rush Poker), but rather a relaxing game of Pot Limit Omaha with the bloggers in today Event #2 of the World Bloggers Championship of Online Poker at PokerStars. And since there's some swag available I'll try my hand at self-reporting without the aid of a handle of Captain.

Hopefully I'll get past the first level to make it interesting.

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