Day 85
Valentines Day.
For women, this is a wonderful occasion filled with romance, love, affection and very large quantities of chocolate.
For men, it’s a bit like having bi-polar disorder.
Last year I made the mistake of forgetting to give Mrs. Snowman a Valentines card. Well, this isn’t strictly true; I made the mistake of not presenting her Valentines card two seconds after she woke up. As she gets up for work at 6.30am every morning (and I get my usual three hours of sleep due to her snoring) under the circumstances I thought this was extremely unreasonable. I then made the huge error of telling her.
I shall not go into details, suffice to say that I can now state for certain that slippers sting like hell when they are connected with bare buttocks.
This year I was more prudent.
An extremely large card was left in a prominent position in front of the alarm clock on her bedside cabinet. Short of waking up without the power of sight there was no possible way she could miss it.
A box of chocolates and bottle of champagne were placed in the living room beside her cigarettes thereby ensuring I wouldn’t receive any footwear injuries before she left the house.
Proud of my endeavors, I dozed for a couple of hours before jumping under the shower and waking myself up. This year I was certain that a smiling wife would be doting on me for the remainder of the day.
Wrong.
She returned from work, smiled, pecked me on the cheek and enquired what time we were going out. My response wasn’t my most inspired of answers.
“Er…Friday?”
“You bastard! You mean you’re not taking me out?”
“Er…um…am I supposed to?”
“Of course you are, it’s Valentines Day”
Clearly the chocolates and bubbly were not going to do the trick.
Mrs. Snowman had spent the day chatting to other females and discovering where their respective partners were taking them to celebrate the day. Restaurants, theatres and hotels would be full to capacity with women fiddling with their make-up and men desperately trying to think of something interesting to say whilst pretending to not look at their watches.
Some fast talking just about saved my life along with a promise to take her out shopping on the weekend. I don’t need the services of a clairvoyant to predict I will see the interior of several jewellery shops before my credit card takes a hammering.
Therefore, prior to calling the paramedic division of American Express to resuscitate my wallet, I have a suggestion.
Women have birthdays, Valentines Day, Christmas and Mothers Day so I think that men should have a specific annual celebration of their own. It can be rejoiced every year sometime during August…
Beer Day.
I haven’t as yet worked out the details of this auspicious occasion but I’m convinced it could be a winner. I’d certainly have no problem in lobbying support for it from men although the local Women’s Guild may enlist the services of a hit man to keep me from developing any further.
Good news on the poker front!
My newly found benefactor has transferred funds into my account and I showed his faith was not misplaced by quickly winning 10 cents on one of the micro tables. When Mrs. Snowman has retired to bed and Small Child has stopped screaming for the day, I shall sit down for a couple of hours and convert it into a few thousand.
Or not.
I didn’t enter the freeroll today as I was busy re-vamping the website into something that doesn’t look like it’s been designed by a retarded monkey so with any luck it will attract a whole new generation of readers.
So, even though the day was not completely successful from a marital perspective, it has been an earth-shattering day in the annuls of poker history.
Next year I have a plan so that St. Valentine doesn’t jump up and bite me in the arse. I shall book a short holiday to a country that doesn’t celebrate it.
I only hope Mrs. Snowman enjoys her vacation in Kazakhstan.
I’ll be in Paris.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $20.10
For women, this is a wonderful occasion filled with romance, love, affection and very large quantities of chocolate.
For men, it’s a bit like having bi-polar disorder.
Last year I made the mistake of forgetting to give Mrs. Snowman a Valentines card. Well, this isn’t strictly true; I made the mistake of not presenting her Valentines card two seconds after she woke up. As she gets up for work at 6.30am every morning (and I get my usual three hours of sleep due to her snoring) under the circumstances I thought this was extremely unreasonable. I then made the huge error of telling her.
I shall not go into details, suffice to say that I can now state for certain that slippers sting like hell when they are connected with bare buttocks.
This year I was more prudent.
An extremely large card was left in a prominent position in front of the alarm clock on her bedside cabinet. Short of waking up without the power of sight there was no possible way she could miss it.
A box of chocolates and bottle of champagne were placed in the living room beside her cigarettes thereby ensuring I wouldn’t receive any footwear injuries before she left the house.
Proud of my endeavors, I dozed for a couple of hours before jumping under the shower and waking myself up. This year I was certain that a smiling wife would be doting on me for the remainder of the day.
Wrong.
She returned from work, smiled, pecked me on the cheek and enquired what time we were going out. My response wasn’t my most inspired of answers.
“Er…Friday?”
“You bastard! You mean you’re not taking me out?”
“Er…um…am I supposed to?”
“Of course you are, it’s Valentines Day”
Clearly the chocolates and bubbly were not going to do the trick.
Mrs. Snowman had spent the day chatting to other females and discovering where their respective partners were taking them to celebrate the day. Restaurants, theatres and hotels would be full to capacity with women fiddling with their make-up and men desperately trying to think of something interesting to say whilst pretending to not look at their watches.
Some fast talking just about saved my life along with a promise to take her out shopping on the weekend. I don’t need the services of a clairvoyant to predict I will see the interior of several jewellery shops before my credit card takes a hammering.
Therefore, prior to calling the paramedic division of American Express to resuscitate my wallet, I have a suggestion.
Women have birthdays, Valentines Day, Christmas and Mothers Day so I think that men should have a specific annual celebration of their own. It can be rejoiced every year sometime during August…
Beer Day.
I haven’t as yet worked out the details of this auspicious occasion but I’m convinced it could be a winner. I’d certainly have no problem in lobbying support for it from men although the local Women’s Guild may enlist the services of a hit man to keep me from developing any further.
Good news on the poker front!
My newly found benefactor has transferred funds into my account and I showed his faith was not misplaced by quickly winning 10 cents on one of the micro tables. When Mrs. Snowman has retired to bed and Small Child has stopped screaming for the day, I shall sit down for a couple of hours and convert it into a few thousand.
Or not.
I didn’t enter the freeroll today as I was busy re-vamping the website into something that doesn’t look like it’s been designed by a retarded monkey so with any luck it will attract a whole new generation of readers.
So, even though the day was not completely successful from a marital perspective, it has been an earth-shattering day in the annuls of poker history.
Next year I have a plan so that St. Valentine doesn’t jump up and bite me in the arse. I shall book a short holiday to a country that doesn’t celebrate it.
I only hope Mrs. Snowman enjoys her vacation in Kazakhstan.
I’ll be in Paris.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $20.10