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theZEBRA Lick Those Stripes! I Be Gallopin' After Ye The Herd Zebra Poo Black Stripes, White Stripes Songs of the Plains
Family Court One would be in less danger From the wiles of a stranger If one's own kin and kith Were more fun to be with. Ogden Nash | Where're My Human Sacrifices?! Saturday. 1.7.06 1:54 am It's been about a day since my last pool game, and I'm still preening over pocketing three shots in a row. Yes, I think I'm entitled to considering that this is the same person who once brought the cue down to line up a shot, but missed her hand completely, hitting the table instead and sinking an enemy ball on the rebound. This warm glow of pride reminds me of another pool session: //cue rapid rewind-action flashback effect// I'm playing against Hustler Michael and I'm doing alright. He's leading by a bit, but he's a MUCH better player (not that that says a lot) and he's already had two beers to my lonely one. It's a Sunday night, so the pub's practically empty. And that's good because I don't like an audience. A peanut gallery is very, very welcome when I'm doing something I'm spectacular at, like colouring within the lines or performing open heart surgery. Not when I'm playing pool, dancing, or opening a packet of peanuts. So with a signifcantly lower number of potential screwup witnesses, I'm pretty relaxed. Shoot. Sip. (Accidentally) Nudge Hustler Michael's cue. Shoot.. Yeah, everything's good. Especially since I'm not betting anything on this round. And then it happens. A watching friend (an audience of one is tolerable) leans over to whisper confidentially, "I just bet 200 bucks on you to win." Hustler Michael is on the job tonight after all. I turn around and blink at her. Then blink at the table. There're three stripes and one solid left. I'm stripes (naturally). "When?" "Just." Blink. "How MUCH have you had to drink?!" "Some. No pressure, yeah." I answer by promptly sinking the cue ball. Her jaw hits the ground so hard that my beer takes a suicide leap off the table. In hindsight, my comment could probably have been a bit more sensitive. "Glad it's not my money." Five minutes and (-)200 bucks later, I'm playing around with the leftover two balls (POOL balls, just so we're clear). I sink one, then line up the last one. And it must be something in the beer because Hustler Michael suddenly drawls, "Tell you what, we'll call it even if she puts this one in." I cringe. It's at a weird angle, and any little confidence I ever had in my pool abilities has been shot down and stamped out by my earlier performance. I sigh in exasparation and shoot. And fuck me, it DOES go in. I am a goddess. People must worship me. My back-in-the-clear friend agrees whole-heartedly. "You are a goddess. I worship you." Quite naturally. And the bartender lets me pull my own beer from the tap. It doesn't get any better than this. Categories: My Awesomeness [t], Booze [t] 11 Comments. sure doesn't these are good times. that, and sitting in an over-sized beach bag while it rolls at 30mph down a road on a skateboard. good times » middaymoon on 2006-01-06 04:09:47 Y'know, there's something just SO crotch-moisteningly hot about people who can play pool really, really well. By 'people' I mean men, of course. Girls who shoot pool scare me. » Jay (217.37.171.17) on 2006-01-06 07:40:13 middaymoon: Until you hit the intersection and you can't stop. But that just makes it all the more fun, eh? ;)
Jay: Keep that in mind the next time you feel like fighting with me over a guy. MEOWRR! Btw, you think pool-playing guys are crotch-moistening? Wait till you see Daniel Craig in the bathtub in "Love is the Devil". The film's almost pretentiously arty but I swear that guy has the sexiest arms (among other bits) ever.
US: Hullo to you, Mr Army Man. Nice seeing you round these parts. :)
Paul: It's all the foreplay with BBB, I tell you.
derek: You flatter me. Note that I cheated and STILL lost, haha.
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