Saturday, November 24, 2007

one last game

I just logged on to blogger and noticed I've had 666 posts. The number of the beast. I also missed my three year blogging anniversary, which was the other day. I love this blog. I love having a space to put myself and the opportunity to share with people now and then. Thanks for reading!

It's Saturday night, and I made plans with a friend of mine to go to a movie. I tried to call her this afternoon, but there was no answer on her cell, home, or her blackberry. I hope nothing bad happened, but if nothing bad happened, I'm going to be pissed. I turned down other plans and now I am sitting at home watching Bones. Ok, I'll be honest. I like sitting at home. More than I should.

I ordered pizza and ate too much and now I'm eating chocolate chips. I feel sick, I've eaten so many, yet I continue. I have my annual physical this week, which means getting weighed. I haven't been running for over a month because of my foot, so you would think I would try not to add any more last minute pounds on.

At least my foot can tolerate the bike, so that's what I've been doing. This morning I met Harry at the gym and then we spent the afternoon together. We played pool, and he was totally kicking my ass. It got so bad I swear I almost broke the cue over my own head. Then I tried a little reverse psychology. I proposed one last game.

"The winner of this game will be the queen of all pool", I suggested.

It's really win-win for me. Either I win and nullify all of my previous losses or Harry wins and I can call him the "Queen of all pool".

He said yes, but then I upped the ante, because my plan was to make it seem subtly deliberate. You see, since he had never played with me before, if I managed to win the game, he might think I'm a pool shark, which is better than thinking I suck. All of the previous losses would have been strategic rather than a result of a lack of skill.

"Hey, why don't we make this one a little more interesting and put some money on it?"

"Ok. Sure", he laughed. "How about whoever wins pays for the pool?"


Truth be told I hate spending my money losing a bet, but I sucked it up in case I got lucky.

The game began. He broke, and right away he pocketed a couple of low-balls, but then I came back [or rather he started to miss and I managed to steadily sink my balls until I had only one left on the table besides the eight ball].

The whole time I had a calm about me. I somehow knew I was going to win, even though he came back again at the end. When I sank the eight ball, I came close to scratching and so my only regret was that I squeeled, "don't go in, don't go in, don't go in!!!". That sort of took away from the overall objective of looking cool.

When I regained my composure I turned to him. "You've been sharked by Gold". I strutted to the rack to put away my cue.

"Yeah. You got me", he said, his expression flat. "You deserve an Academy Award. You really had me fooled. You were so incredibly convincing as a terrible pool player. You're a regular Jack Nicholson of pool."

The waitress came up to the table.

"Is everything ok over here?"

"Yeah. I kicked his ass", I answered.

After Harry payed the tab we walked out into the cold and he turned to me.

"Remind me to play competitive sports with you again real soon, okay?"

"Good game", I said, offering him my hand.


Sam Stecher said...

I just need a few thousand more people like you and I could make ends meet with this poetry thing. However, I'll take quality over quanity when it comes to appreciation. Oh, and 666 might not be so infamous.
Maybe Big Red isn't so good with numbers. And thanks.

Jeans Pants said...

Good game... Your rocked the caspa...or cashba...or...catbox....I dont know the words