Day 58
For the first time since the inception of this project I’m making a plea to the readership.
If there is anyone out there who can offer me refuge, please make contact through the usual channels as quickly as possible.
Obviously I would prefer a response from a couple of liberal minded, large breasted, brewery owning, twenty year old nymphomaniac cousins who live in the Caribbean but I am prepared to compromise: they can own a distillery. However, I’m also prepared to consider a mud hut in some unexplored region of the African jungle with a small family of chimpanzees.
And the reason for my appeal?
Small Child and Surrogate Daughter.
It started yesterday night.
I was happily sat down with the laptop when a crash came from the kitchen; it was closely followed by a sheepish looking daughter who explained one of the drawers had broken while she was getting some cutlery. On investigation it transpired she’d pulled the front off a cabinet and irreparably damaged one of the runners.
I took a deep breath and tried to put it to the back of my mind. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.
I couldn’t have been sat down for more than twenty minutes before a similar crash reached my ears.
This time she’d pulled the door off the glass cupboard.
Oh God…Mrs. Snowman, mother-in-law and now daughter.
It must be genetic.
I calmed myself with my own personal version of Zen Buddhism (bourbon) and pretended everything was fine.
The tranquility lasted for about forty-five minutes before small child started her first scream of the evening. Usually this doesn’t bother me but today it was a little different.
Small child has discovered a new scream with a pitch that can shatter glass at twenty paces and it lasted for about seven hours.
By the early hours of the morning I was a quivering wreck.
The only time the noise subsided was when small child crapped herself. This ensured an unbelievably noxious smell wafted through the house in unison with the ear splitting noise.
I think her diet may have changed from mashed food to raw sewage.
Mother-in-law has explained to me this is a perfectly normal phase for an infant to go through but I’m not so sure. There can be little doubt that I was a fairly horrible child who grew into a fairly horrible adult but it’s unlikely I ever had the lung capacity of a Graf Zeppelin. I shall have to ask other friends of mine with small children if this is par for the course.
I shall also enquire how they managed to get any sleep
And so to the part that I’ve been trying to put off for all day…the poker.
With a miniscule bankroll it was obviously going to be difficult to gain any sort of financial advantage but at least I had to try. I played for just over an hour on the 1c/2c tables and was just about breaking even before getting 10-J suited. The betting was raised to three times the big blind and only one other and myself were left in (the last three hands saw him raise 60c on a 2c blind pre flop). The flop gave me a straight and I went all-in. I got an immediate call and thought the money was in the bag.
I don’t know the odds of the turn and river coming up 5-5 and giving my opponent quad fives but that’s what happened.
I was absolutely fucking devastated…and back to zero again.
At least I’m now certain to change to another site in order to keep my quest alive.
You may think this has been a disastrous day but it ended better than expected.
I found my potato gun.
For those of you unfamiliar with this weapon, it’s a small spring-loaded device that has small lumps of raw potato as its ammunition and is great fun. The raw vegetable usually splats on impact and although the chances of inflicting any kind of harm is remote, it is incredibly infuriating to the victim.
I’ve procured a very large potato and am currently getting some target practice on a plastic alien that I found in the trunk of the car.
Now where’s that fucking cat…?
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
If there is anyone out there who can offer me refuge, please make contact through the usual channels as quickly as possible.
Obviously I would prefer a response from a couple of liberal minded, large breasted, brewery owning, twenty year old nymphomaniac cousins who live in the Caribbean but I am prepared to compromise: they can own a distillery. However, I’m also prepared to consider a mud hut in some unexplored region of the African jungle with a small family of chimpanzees.
And the reason for my appeal?
Small Child and Surrogate Daughter.
It started yesterday night.
I was happily sat down with the laptop when a crash came from the kitchen; it was closely followed by a sheepish looking daughter who explained one of the drawers had broken while she was getting some cutlery. On investigation it transpired she’d pulled the front off a cabinet and irreparably damaged one of the runners.
I took a deep breath and tried to put it to the back of my mind. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.
I couldn’t have been sat down for more than twenty minutes before a similar crash reached my ears.
This time she’d pulled the door off the glass cupboard.
Oh God…Mrs. Snowman, mother-in-law and now daughter.
It must be genetic.
I calmed myself with my own personal version of Zen Buddhism (bourbon) and pretended everything was fine.
The tranquility lasted for about forty-five minutes before small child started her first scream of the evening. Usually this doesn’t bother me but today it was a little different.
Small child has discovered a new scream with a pitch that can shatter glass at twenty paces and it lasted for about seven hours.
By the early hours of the morning I was a quivering wreck.
The only time the noise subsided was when small child crapped herself. This ensured an unbelievably noxious smell wafted through the house in unison with the ear splitting noise.
I think her diet may have changed from mashed food to raw sewage.
Mother-in-law has explained to me this is a perfectly normal phase for an infant to go through but I’m not so sure. There can be little doubt that I was a fairly horrible child who grew into a fairly horrible adult but it’s unlikely I ever had the lung capacity of a Graf Zeppelin. I shall have to ask other friends of mine with small children if this is par for the course.
I shall also enquire how they managed to get any sleep
And so to the part that I’ve been trying to put off for all day…the poker.
With a miniscule bankroll it was obviously going to be difficult to gain any sort of financial advantage but at least I had to try. I played for just over an hour on the 1c/2c tables and was just about breaking even before getting 10-J suited. The betting was raised to three times the big blind and only one other and myself were left in (the last three hands saw him raise 60c on a 2c blind pre flop). The flop gave me a straight and I went all-in. I got an immediate call and thought the money was in the bag.
I don’t know the odds of the turn and river coming up 5-5 and giving my opponent quad fives but that’s what happened.
I was absolutely fucking devastated…and back to zero again.
At least I’m now certain to change to another site in order to keep my quest alive.
You may think this has been a disastrous day but it ended better than expected.
I found my potato gun.
For those of you unfamiliar with this weapon, it’s a small spring-loaded device that has small lumps of raw potato as its ammunition and is great fun. The raw vegetable usually splats on impact and although the chances of inflicting any kind of harm is remote, it is incredibly infuriating to the victim.
I’ve procured a very large potato and am currently getting some target practice on a plastic alien that I found in the trunk of the car.
Now where’s that fucking cat…?
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0