Pandora Averted
Nothing spells relief quite like compromise. Seeing what SuperGirl had in mind with respect to hair, make-up and wardrobe choices for the casino, I immediately had second through fourth thoughts, and proposed instead that she ride shotgun at my laptop, watching me in action (at PokerStars.com) compete in a satellite tournament for a seat at the WSOP.
I didn't want to stroll into the casino and have SuperGirl in full superhero regalia, exposing her majestic exquisiteness to the red Kryptonite that is the casino poker room. I wanted to save her from the company of unkept leather-asses, soiling the community stock of chips and cards with hands that been to the bathroom, the seafood special, the cashier and the cracker-jack box of their respective noses without seeing so much as one visit through a rinse cycle or two.
Though she could not put on her dancing shoes, she could remain in her cute 'Sunday morning attire' (picture forthcoming) without worrying about unholy gazes of wretched envy she'd most certainly attract in the casino. So, while waiting for her to 'debrief' and change back into more humble dress, I register for a 27+R$ satellite tournament scheduled to start within 40 mins.
On the recommendation of the patron saint of Uber Blogs I take some time to figure out how the hell to modify my Blog template to include links to other fine bloggers of the Poker community. I manage to figure out a barbaric approach to it, and though it's not at all formatted the way I'd hoped, it's a first step I'm pleased to have negotiated without causing harm to my head, the wall or my laptop.
SuperGirl arrives with about 5 minutes to spare before the tournament, looking as delicious as ever, and takes her seat right on my lap!
Under any other circumstance (except for maybe Mother's Day), this would be a precursor to being an intimate witness of the essence of SuperGirl's superness; h-o-w-e-v-e-r, since I will not often have an opportunity to show her my Poker muscles (and thus support the case for my longer term Poker ambitions), it's of colossal importance that my play be pure of thought, and remain abstinent of any fruit from any fucking tree of SuperGirl's orchard of enticing and mystical pleasures.
As I lift and relocate her divine back end to fend for itself on a separate chair, that stubborn part of me that remains 17 years old shrieks in horror, lambasting me for passing up on this "sure thing". I tell that 17 year old to shut up, jerk-off, and let me play Poker!... Alas, I have gotten old haven't I?
Next: Bad timing!
I didn't want to stroll into the casino and have SuperGirl in full superhero regalia, exposing her majestic exquisiteness to the red Kryptonite that is the casino poker room. I wanted to save her from the company of unkept leather-asses, soiling the community stock of chips and cards with hands that been to the bathroom, the seafood special, the cashier and the cracker-jack box of their respective noses without seeing so much as one visit through a rinse cycle or two.
Though she could not put on her dancing shoes, she could remain in her cute 'Sunday morning attire' (picture forthcoming) without worrying about unholy gazes of wretched envy she'd most certainly attract in the casino. So, while waiting for her to 'debrief' and change back into more humble dress, I register for a 27+R$ satellite tournament scheduled to start within 40 mins.
On the recommendation of the patron saint of Uber Blogs I take some time to figure out how the hell to modify my Blog template to include links to other fine bloggers of the Poker community. I manage to figure out a barbaric approach to it, and though it's not at all formatted the way I'd hoped, it's a first step I'm pleased to have negotiated without causing harm to my head, the wall or my laptop.
SuperGirl arrives with about 5 minutes to spare before the tournament, looking as delicious as ever, and takes her seat right on my lap!
Under any other circumstance (except for maybe Mother's Day), this would be a precursor to being an intimate witness of the essence of SuperGirl's superness; h-o-w-e-v-e-r, since I will not often have an opportunity to show her my Poker muscles (and thus support the case for my longer term Poker ambitions), it's of colossal importance that my play be pure of thought, and remain abstinent of any fruit from any fucking tree of SuperGirl's orchard of enticing and mystical pleasures.
As I lift and relocate her divine back end to fend for itself on a separate chair, that stubborn part of me that remains 17 years old shrieks in horror, lambasting me for passing up on this "sure thing". I tell that 17 year old to shut up, jerk-off, and let me play Poker!... Alas, I have gotten old haven't I?
Next: Bad timing!
posted by stefNfloyd | 11:07 AM
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