Yeah! Coffee time! Come on in for some Tim Hortons brew and a doughnut. What’s not to like about that? I hope you had a good week. I can actually say that mine was pretty darned good, too.
Last weekend The Viking made me dinner. I love it when he cooks; it’s always delicious and I feel spoiled. After dinner we decided to do something really wacky and play Crib instead of sitting in front of the TV.
The thing about playing any game with The Viking is that he always wins. Always. We are talking about a guy who can roll 8 Yahtzees in one game. Granted, it’s selective winning because he’s shit at the Lottery, but when there is nothing more than my pride at stake, he wins. I don’t play Strip Poker with him unless the heat is turned up because I’m the only one sitting there naked. I dress in several layers for any game beginning with the word ‘Strip’ so the game will last longer than 5 rounds, too.
So, when The Viking suggested Crib and not Naked Crib, I was willing and completely prepared to lose. I promised myself to be a good loser and not throw anything at him. Instead, I would focus on chatting and enjoying my Parfait Amour while being trashed on the Crib board.
But this time it was different. Sure, I was leading after the first couple of hands but that means nothing. The Viking is one of those guys that lures you in so he can trounce you when you think you’ve got the game in the bag. I had to admit though that I was doing very well and the space between our pegs was increasing with every hand.
He moaned when I was half way around the board and a good twenty points ahead. I said, “Stop complaining, you’ll come from behind and win as usual”. That’s just how the universe works. Just when you think you’ve got him, Odin steps in and ruins everything.
I was starting to pay attention now though. Could Odin be busy? Was I on the verge of achieving the impossible? Not only was I far ahead but he was becoming concerned that he might not make it over the Skunk line. A bubble of excitement formed in my stomach, battling the certainty of failure for space.
Don’t get all giddy yet; this is exactly what he wants. He’s playing with you. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch and all that. Manage your thoughts so your disappointment isn’t too keen when he does charge from behind and win the final peg hole. Remember he did that last time you played. He beat you 5 games in a row!
Try to distract him!
So I said: “I bought these new bras and they are super comfortable but they don’t have a lot of support. See?” And I bounced in my chair a little bit and my boobs started jiggling at him. It worked! He was mesmerized! So I kept bouncing while I pegged my points (not an easy feat). I lost his focus for a moment when he pegged his miserable 4 points but I bounced harder and higher and that seemed to get him thinking less about his cards.
He was still quite a distance from the Skunk line; he would need to get a 20 point hand if he had any hope of avoiding the dreaded Skunking. When I picked up my hand I felt the thrill of triumph! He can’t catch me! I’ve won! I’ve beaten The Viking! Sweet Geezus I’ve pulled it off!! I will never complain about my boobs again! All that remained to be seen was whether he could make it over the Skunk line.
AND HE DIDN’T!! I’VE SKUNKED THE VIKING!!
I tried to be gracious while I was doing the Strutting Turkey Winners Dance. “It was just a bit of bad luck. You have killer Crib skills. Don’t let it get you down! Ha! Ha! Ha!” I couldn’t help myself. This was unprecedented.
He played it cool though; pretending it didn’t bother him. He shrugged, “I don’t give a fuck if you won. Will you stop dancing and deal the cards? Please?”
I sat down and shuffled the cards. “You’ll beat me this time. I’m sure of it.”
He grunted, “Whatever. Deal already.”
And I really believed he would beat me. I really did. You don’t just beat The Viking at something and then not expect him to annihilate you the first chance he gets. I thought I’d be lucky to be simply Skunked and not Double Skunked.
Unfortunately for The Viking, Odin really wasn’t paying him any mind at all. Maybe he’s a Boob Man, too. Who knows? The first few hands were sort of even – he was ahead of me at one point. I was encouraging and helpful all the way; I didn’t even laugh. But I won again! Not by a lot, but I still won, and if we had played another round he most certainly would have gotten me. But he had Jet Ski Races to watch and I was spared.
I did have a word with the Gods explaining that I really wasn’t being a poor winner, I was just celebrating a rare win. Like David celebrated victory over Goliath. Or, more appropriately considering which Gods I was bargaining with, how Thor would celebrate a battle victory. And wouldn’t Thor use every asset at his command to win? Well, I have boobs and if they’ll help me win a damned card game once in a while I will definitely use them.
I think we’re good.
PS: I probably will still complain about my boobs. I’m not infallible.
PPS: A big thank you to Part Time Monster for the weekly Coffee Share.