Fun. Games.

fun
n.

1. A source of enjoyment, amusement, or pleasure.
   
2. Enjoyment; amusement.
   
3. Playful, often noisy, activity.
   
   

I had a, by definition, fun weekend. Nothing wild. Nothing madcap. Just fun. Before the weekend officially got started, I reached a new plateau of personal achievement. I solved the Friday SuDoKu in the Washington Post. The puzzles get progressively harder as the week goes on. Mondays make you feel like Stephen Hawking...Fridays will give you a mild aneurysm. They put the puzzle right above the horoscopes, so just as you've taken that bite out of the caramel apple of vague good tidings, that razor blade of real impending doom is getting ready to bloody your tongue...that metaphor was long, confusing, and just so I could hear myself type.
Numbers have never been my forte so, when I sat down to take on the puzzle, I figured it'd only be a matter of moments before I became stuck and turned the page in search of the soothing salve of Family Circus to put on my aching brain. Not this day. This day, I put those numbers in their place...literally...or numerically...whichever. Long story short, I managed to be more smarter than I usually is. Onto the fun...

Friday night, I drove up to Columbia to hang out with some peeps...the marshmallow treats, not friends. Yes, I'm seeking help. Anywho, we ended up playing Texas Hold 'Em. I'm a decent poker player...I have horrible tells (if I ever burst into tears, bet the moon), but I know when to walk away and when to run.
I think I mentioned earlier that I'm an idiot wearing a smart-guy mask...well, I suggested that we play for pride instead of money because I'm poor and, while I have the cashflow of a homeless person, I'm Hubris R' Us...pride coming out of my arse.
Anyone want to guess how this turned out? Yeah, I won the game. With nothing to show for it but the knowledge that I could've been $60 richer...a Dollar Store spree.

Turns out it wasn't all for naught, as I hosted another poker game at my apartment on Saturday night. This one was with Frank "The Ragin' Asian" Hong, recently auburn-tressed funnygal, Erin Conroy (who came up with "Ragin' Asian"...I can't take credit for that) and her valet, Melissa. It was fueled by two 12-packs and a bag of corn chips. Hilarity was in the cards. The three of them hadn't played cards in awhile...with my poker muscles recently stretched, you don't have to be Einstein to figure out who won...but it helps...



It was a great night of reckless betting...a good time was had by all...but mostly me, because I won. And it injected some boisterous life into my humble abode.

Sunday was devoted to football. If you happened to catch the Bengals/Steelers game, perhaps you too heard Dick Enberg say the following: "These quarterbacks are like opera singers. Lots of gesticulating." Here's a tip, Dick: Know your audience. Odds are, the closest your average Steelers fan has come to an opera singer is that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd sings, "KILL THE WABBIT!". And when most football fans hear that a quarterback is gesticulating, they think he's jiggling the center's yambag at the line of scrimmage. Just say that he's talking with his hands, Dick.

To be continued...