Money, Finally
Had the homegame on Saturday, and actually had a pretty good showing-seven players- and I took second, which worked out to 2x's the buy-in.
Most of my success came from either being able to check crap hands in the BB and hitting the flop and from being able to complete in the small blind with suited hands and filling in my flushes. Ah, limpers! Have to love 'em.
I was fucking tired after being woken up at 6am that morning, taking the girls to gymnastics, going food shopping, and cleaning the house. I had a beer, which I don't usually do, and I think it had a synergistic effect with my happy pills, because kept losing track of the game and making moves out of position. What was worse is I kept doing it when I was in hands with the one guy who was a stranger to me. I kept apologizing, but he must've thought I was an ass.
Oh well, he won, so he can't complain too much, right?
Both girls have colds. The Little General was miserable today and took it out on her day care staff. From what I heard, she didn't want to take a nap, so she threw her bedding, pillow, stuffed animal, and shoes at her teacher. Part of me was embarrassed, another part feeling sorry for the LG, and a good chunk was laughing about the image of a two foot tall, 2.5 year old raising hell.
The LG continued her rampage at home and started chucking refridgerator magnets at her sister. The Mistress decided that the throwing of objects with intent to injure was going to stop (excluding when the Mistress throws stuff at me.)
It was a classic test of wills: the ominous furrowing of toddler brows and jutting of kewpie doll lips versus the devastating raised eye-brow, steely stare, and imperative commands of the all-powerful mother.
From my vantage point cowering under the kitchen table, I could feel the push and pull of emotional energy, thought I saw actual sparks fly back and forth between the combatants. Finally, the younger Amazon warrior, lacking in experience and technique, despite inheriting her mother's iron will (the foolish might call this "stubbornness"), huffed, stomped to the magnets and stuck them back onto the fridge.
"What the hell are you doing under there?" The Mistress said to me as I nervously unhid myself.
"Nothing, just practicing for the teen-age years."
Most of my success came from either being able to check crap hands in the BB and hitting the flop and from being able to complete in the small blind with suited hands and filling in my flushes. Ah, limpers! Have to love 'em.
I was fucking tired after being woken up at 6am that morning, taking the girls to gymnastics, going food shopping, and cleaning the house. I had a beer, which I don't usually do, and I think it had a synergistic effect with my happy pills, because kept losing track of the game and making moves out of position. What was worse is I kept doing it when I was in hands with the one guy who was a stranger to me. I kept apologizing, but he must've thought I was an ass.
Oh well, he won, so he can't complain too much, right?
Both girls have colds. The Little General was miserable today and took it out on her day care staff. From what I heard, she didn't want to take a nap, so she threw her bedding, pillow, stuffed animal, and shoes at her teacher. Part of me was embarrassed, another part feeling sorry for the LG, and a good chunk was laughing about the image of a two foot tall, 2.5 year old raising hell.
The LG continued her rampage at home and started chucking refridgerator magnets at her sister. The Mistress decided that the throwing of objects with intent to injure was going to stop (excluding when the Mistress throws stuff at me.)
It was a classic test of wills: the ominous furrowing of toddler brows and jutting of kewpie doll lips versus the devastating raised eye-brow, steely stare, and imperative commands of the all-powerful mother.
From my vantage point cowering under the kitchen table, I could feel the push and pull of emotional energy, thought I saw actual sparks fly back and forth between the combatants. Finally, the younger Amazon warrior, lacking in experience and technique, despite inheriting her mother's iron will (the foolish might call this "stubbornness"), huffed, stomped to the magnets and stuck them back onto the fridge.
"What the hell are you doing under there?" The Mistress said to me as I nervously unhid myself.
"Nothing, just practicing for the teen-age years."
posted by C.L. Russo at 10/23/2006 07:13:00 PM
2 Comments:
Just curious - have you ever watched The Nanny?
MAN - where was this show when I was bring up Jenny!
Not saying you are having a problem but this show is awesome and EVERY parent (including me) should watch it.
AGAIN - not saying you have a problem child (like those on TV) just babbeling!
It's too stressful to watch, I feel sorry for the kids stuck with inept parents.
It does make me thankful for my girls, though!
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