I know I’ve mentioned this, but I played poker with some friends for about a year and a half.
We were a dedicated bunch. We had the same six or seven show up every week for about 80 straight weeks. Some of us claimed to be married.
They are great guys. They were good sports. When someone else would have a good hand that beat them, most of them would say, “cheers” or “good one.”
Well, not me.
I hate to lose. I wanted to kick each and every one of them in the ankle when I lost. When I had a good hand and didn’t win, it was all I could do not to throw a beer bottle at them, much less say “good hand.”
But I loved every minute of it. And I really miss it. If they’d all just fly over here and visit, I’d be willing to lose (a little).
Which brings us to our Real Country Music lyric of the day:
(although it’s becoming more like the Real Country Music lyric of the week. It’s just that most of the songs don’t sound out of the ordinary to me anymore…I may need professional help)
And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried.
