Gut Rumbles
 

September 04, 2005

going gambling

My friend Kenny showed up last night, after a harrowing experience on Blue Jay Road in Effingham County. The cops pulled him over for "weaving" and put him through the grist mill. He had a case of beer in the car, plus a couple of guitars and a plastic container of boiled peanuts.

The cops searched it all, then made him take a breathalyzer test, which he evidendtly passed, because he didn't go to jail. He was still upset when he arrived at my house.

We talked until 3:30 AM, and he slept, snoring his ass off, on my couch last night. I don't know how this happened, but in a moment of bliss, I agreed to go out on a gambling boat with him this evening. He'll pick me up in about an hour.

I'll probably lose my ass, but I'm looking forward to trying some Blackjack and some Texas Hold 'Em, both of which are played on the boat. The boat ride might be fun all by itself.

But after last night, my mental faculties aren't as clear as they should be for gambling. I'm liable to fall asleep at the table. I'm too old to be doing what I did last night.

I'll let you know what this venture costs me later.

(UPDATE: Just damn! Kenny called and said that the boat trip this evening has been cancelled because of rough seas. Buncha pussies. Of course, that decision probably saved me a lot of money. If I went, I damn sure was gonna gamble, high seas or not.)

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