Tag Archives: Leisure

Life Lessons I Learned From Poker

Posted in Misguided Musings by
Never bet on these...proven bad luck.

Never bet on these…proven bad luck.

This weekend, SLS Couples Poker night was held.  Quite an ostentatious event complete with fake birthday cake and everything!  As I was sitting there drinking ma margaritas and playing some semblance of a poker hand, I realized one very important thing.  The stuff needed to play decent poker, is the same stuff one needs to wander down life’s little escapade into fundom.  Here are some of those deep life-affirming thoughts one has during a regular poker tournament among friends.   And the phrase  “No crying over spilt beer” should be embroidered on a pillow….

Bullies are everywhere.  It’s how you react to them that matters.  If you stand your ground, they tend to back down.  If you stand up and they still beat you, take heart.  Even if they win the battle, they don’t usually win the war.

Bluffing usually only works with people who don’t know you very well.  You can probably tell somebody anything and they’ll believe you just because they don’t have any prior experience or knowledge of you to look back on.  Once that’s established, bluffing/ lying is off the table. 

A good poker face goes a long way.  Keep neutral and you can pretty much get through anything.  Show your ‘hand’ and people will try to manipulate the shit out of you…well, some people will.

Thinking is a part of everything.  Always think before you act and try to think about what the other person is thinking.  Think about thinking and others will think of you as a thinker and will underestimate your ability to act.  It’s a bit confusing, but if you really think about it, it makes perfectly good sense.  At least it did after five margaritas. 

Go with your gut.  Usually your gut instinct is the best.  If the situation doesn’t feel right, then it isn’t.  If it feels like it could be the best case scenario, then go for it.  Your gut is usually right. 

Don’t underestimate the power of luck.  Some say luck has everything to do with success and I’m kinda in line with those people.  A little bit of luck can lead you in a very positive outcome…so can a little bit of alcohol and chocolate, but that’s a different story.

Strategy only goes so far.  A good strategic plan can set you on a goal-attaining mission that enables you to harbor success and fulfill all your wildest dreams…until somebody comes along and fucks it all up.  That’s when strategies tend to fall apart and you end up with an empty margarita glass and little left in your ante.  Strategies need to remain flexible and be ready for the unexpected pitfalls of the shit disturbers.  Stay the course and remain resilient.  Those SDs are only there to party and throw a wayward arrow at the bulls-eye on your back.  They got nothin’….

Most people think poker is a ruthless, merciless game only fit for the shrewd and sly among us…but throw in a bunch of drunk, carefree ladies and it’s up for grabs.  Tradition goes out the window and everybody scrambles to find the common ground and ANYTHING that remotely resembles logic, common sense or rationale.  Don’t miss the obvious and take it for what it’s worth…fun.  Play with gusto, take the risks and watch your back.   

It’s all really just a big poker game….

 

Wait...What? Yeah, I don't get it either....

Wait…What? Yeah, I don’t get it either….

 

 

 

 

Swimming in the Past

Posted in Uncategorized by

I wasn’t going to post any creative writing junk on this site, but I had nothing else to say right now since everything is crazy and people are crazy and you’re out of order and I’m out of order and the vending machine is fucking out of order!!!  So, here is an excerpt of a story I have been working on. It’s a bit flowery, or something.    Read it.  Breathe it.  Live it. Lament the end of summer.  Send cookies. 

KJ

 

I can hear the rustle of the reeds outside my bedroom window.  The warm breeze sends them into a hazy dance of bent bodies and extended arms.  The darkness signals night, but I am too restless to sleep.  I snuggle deeper under the bedclothes in search of comfort, my eyelids becoming heavier every inch I delve.  I listen intently to the reeds, their music lulling me into a gentle song I know will eventually be my undoing.  I try to stare up at the beamed ceiling, its dark cedar creating ominous shapes in the dark, but my eyelids flutter in protest. I turn to look at my bedroom door, painted a faded white and chipping from the summer humidity and the daily lake- watered towels drooping from atop the corner. 

 The little cottage creaks with adult noises outside my door.  The wooden floorboards heavy with grown-up steps making their way to the glassed porch to watch the night sky turn a deeper twilight as the stars reflection bounce upon the lake water or the television declare an evening news program to be concluding for the night.  I imagine they are sitting together on the little settee, having their late night drink thankful the kids are finally tired and tucked in for the night.  I long to join them, my bare feet padding along the floorboards and snuggling in between them, my head resting on her shoulder, but I dare not move.  I know they will not be upset as much as they would be worried.  Are you sick? They would ask.  Do you have a headache? They would be concerned.  My fair skinned body out in the summer sun all day; in the rolling waves tumbling atop the inflated inner tube my brothers and I pranced and jumped day after day.  Sunstroke, they would think.  Fever, they would fear.  Sunburn, they would lament.  But no, even in the days when sunscreen was unheard of, they took expert care that my fair skin would not burn hidden furtively under a cotton t-shirt, and my face shaded under a sunhat placed securely on my strawberry blond head.  I remained sheltered from swarming mosquitoes, my little body hidden inside the concave of his jacket as we ran along the dusty path during a dusk evening. Saved from myself as I was shuffled hurriedly indoors following an invitation to a young skunk by a singing of ‘here, kitty, kitty, kitty’. 

Fast forward thirty years and I wish I could go back to those long hot summer days.  We would walk bare foot along the stones to the path leading us to the dilapidated shed where the bikes were stowed away.  We would run down to Lake Ontario, our bathing suits clinging to our bodies, the frigid water sending us into tides of joy and near hypothermia, blissfully unaware of any temperatures cooler than the hot sun beating down upon our necks or the dripping ice cream cones we slurped in an afternoon meant for laundry.  I remember being embarrassed that I had been stripped down to my underwear at the local laundry mat waiting for our clothes to wash, but treated to an air hockey game and ice cream at the local variety store as if to make up for the public display of my flowery pink underwear.  That was an Ontario summer.  Full of water, sand, sun and cool nights with the reeds outside my bedroom window singing me to sleep in the little cottage that held all of us tightly in its embrace for a few short precious weeks.     

cottage

 

Shit I Did This Weekend

Posted in Conversations With, Misguided Musings by

Played The Board Game from Hell

I think my family is expecting a post about the perils of the game Trouble.  Then again, I think my family expects more from me in general, anyways so, here.  Don’t say I don’t do anything for you guys.  Geesh, stop bothering me will ‘ya?  It’s like having Erkel around all the time.  GAAAAAWWWWWD. What’s wrong wit…sorry. Babbling.  Okay you can start reading now…orrrrr now.  Now?  Yeah, now. 

The devil's invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I commend thee!

The devil’s invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I compel thee!

Have you played this raunchy-when-I-play-it- over-the-top not-for-little-kids-mutha-of-a-game?!  One minute into the throws of punching that plastic bubble in the middle and I was calling my sis-in-law a 6-whore and demanding a replay from my niece.  My poor 79 year old mother-in-law must have thought I was possessed or have been negatively influenced from living in the city too long.  She stayed quiet while I fiercely pounded the bubble as the dice inside REFUSED to turn over to a number 6. The number 6 is necessary to even begin the game.  You know, 6…Devil, Beast, Asshole…(If you’re a Trouble virgin like I was, I’ll give you the condensed Kayjai version of the game.  You. Are. Welcome.

You have 5 game pieces who are safely ensconced in ‘home’ position.  The object is to get your 5 homies into a safe house, but first you have to wander aimlessly around the neighbourhood, but watch out!  The crackheads are out and gunning for your ass, so it’s survival of the fittest.  You get them, before they get you.  You nail their asses before they have a chance to say “I need a fix!”  Got it?   It’s probs. not supposed to have ‘crack’ references or raucous swearing and bouts of fist-flinging…or insulting commentary, but I was trying to bring it to a level most people relate to.  Not that you relate to crackheads…or strangers chasing you down and calling you names in your neighbourhood.  Or maybe you do. I don’t know…I don’t know where you live…anymore.)

 I finally made it out onto the actual playing board and when I did I was gunnin’ for 6-whore and whoever else got in ma way.  I think I obliterated my mother-in-law a few gagillion times and inspired a mob mentality by getting my niece to chase after her momma with ire and determined fury.  Yeah.  I think the Devil was having a grand ol’ time watching me morph into some evil-crazed sociopath looking for a little payback and attacking any innocent bystanders who may be present.  I was half expecting the arrival of a priest to hose me down with incense and holy water. I think I caused my mother-in-law to fall into immediate prayer and beg for my salvation…we played two games.  Niece had to go to work…pfft…LIKE THAT WAS IMPORTANT. WE WERE PLAYING TROUBLE FOR GOD’S SAKE!  WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!  Anyway, they said I had to let her go, so after my final head-spin, I think I won the second game…AND, I wasn’t even the slightest bit drunk.  Ha!  I WIN! 

 

Played Card Games and ‘Borrowed’ A Truck

I played mother-in-law in two games of cards before suggesting we go to the next town a half-an-hour away for lunch.  Incidentally, I won the last game.  AND, I wasn’t even drunk.  Ha!  I WIN!  The kicker?  You know that Hubby bought a nice shiny brand new truck in November, right?  You know that I have never driven nice shiny brand new truck, right?  You know that he so BLATANTLY left his truck keys on the counter, PURPOSEFULLY pointing out to me where he left them while he and son and his bro went fishing.  AND, it was mother-in-law’s birthday..so of course I had to treat her to lunch.  In the next town.  And invite sis-in-law and her crew.  AND HOW WAS I GOING TO GET HER THERE???!!  Dat’s right…the nice shiny brand new truck that I have never driven before, of course!  Duh….

What?  I texted Hubby…

AFTER I had arrived at lunch and parked said nice shiny brand new truck FAR AWAY FROM EVERY LIVING THING IMAGINABLE, lest there be denting or scratching or heavy breathing on it. 

See?  Everything was fine. 

Observe:

Me:  I took the truck to take YOUR mother out to lunch since EVERYBODY ELSE IS GONE.

Hubby: K. Where did you go?  And have you reached your destination?  (he thinks everybody is watching him and reading his texts, so he remains formal like he’s met me maybe once in his whole life…unless he’s pissed at me.  Then he feels the need to speak like a sailor.  Bastard.)

Me: We are meeting sis and Niece at Gibsons for lunch in GFW.  We are here now.  The truck drives itself!!  I don’t know why I haven’t driven it before!

Hubby:  YOU DROVE MY TRUCK TO GFW??!!!!!!

Me:  YOUR MOTHER wants to know if she needs to get the frying pan ready.  (subtly trying to change the subject)

Hubby: You haven’t driven my truck because I don’t want you to.

Me:  Why not?  I’m like RainMan.  I’m an excellent driver.

Hubby:  EXACTLY.  Please be careful with my truck.  I luvs her right.

Me:  Well, maybe you should marry it then.

Hubby:  What?

Me: Ugh…never mind…

I’m so mature….

 

 

 

 

 

Appropriate Signage For Weekend Plans

Posted in Misguided Musings by

Aside from the obvious martyrdom I intend to pretend to endure throughout this weekend, I thought I would share my ever-so-exciting-plans.  They include, but are not limited to, the following:

·       * Drinking copious quantities of alcohol while attempting to spell alcohol (it’s difficult even sober. Which I totally am at this moment.  No, really I am.)

·       * Hanging up the print I said I was going to hang up last weekend but didn’t because Hubby was his usual uncooperative self.  And he was busy cleaning out the basement or some foolish sort of thing that has no bearing on me whatsoever.  Yeah.

·        *Start my memoirs…it’s a long and involved project.  I’m planning on a cool title…which is where I am currently stuck.  For the past ten years.  No judging.  Or suggestions of titles like “My Memoirs”.  Also not available are “This Shit Really Happened” or “I Have No Idea How I Got This Way” or “Freud’s An Ass”.  According to Google those titles are all taken.  I know I was disappointed too.

·        *Hammy The Hamster II has subsequently bit the dust, so cleaning out his cage was D1’s responsibility but due to the obvious emotional trauma sustained, I will probably throw the deliciously pink abode ceremoniously into the trash.  And then burn the shit in the backyard and invite the neighbours over for a bonfire.  S’mores anyone??

·        *Harrass the government for grant money so I can live independently in Grand Turk while crafting my memoirs that currently have no title.   Or content.

·        *Harrass my children for their assistance in projects I have no intention of finishing or participating in.

·        *Watch an entire movie without hearing the phrase “WHAT ARE YOU WATCHING THIS FOR?”  The obvious reply “BECAUSE I FUCKING WANT TO” will be taped to my forehead so no verbal response would be necessary.

*The aforementioned “BECAUSE I FUCKING WANT TO”  will be affixed to my forehead for the entire weekend because really, it would avoid pretty much every question that will inevitably float my way.  I suggest the same for everyone.   Maybe I should make some in advance and sell them on ebay….mommies will eat that shit up!  I’ll make millions.  Who needs a reality show?   I’ll just sit home and make signs.

No need for the government grant.  Fuck you, government (grant).     *insert smiley face here*