Day 15

I write this post from the relative safety of the sofa and with all my bodily parts more or less in their normal locations.
I’m not sure if it was the chocolates, the wine or the professional (and unbelievably expensive) repair job done by the plasterer who arrived at some ungodly hour this morning. The living room ceiling no longer looks like the aftermath of a Baghdad bombing run and has returned to a more traditional appearance.
During the day I put up the new coving, painted the ceiling and was sat admiring my work when Mrs. Snowman came home. Her mood suggested she was impressed with my handiwork as she didn’t approach me with a baseball bat or sharp object but I still needed to press home my advantage. We needed a few more items to complete the decorating and she insisted we leave immediately to purchase them. This presents a problem as I’m in the middle of the lunchtime freeroll.
My next decision is not an easy one. If I tell her I want to complete the game I could find my head being used to create a new hole in the wall and if I comply with her request I’ll almost certainly forfeit any potential winnings.
As I’m currently in her good books I opt for door number one, but with a very weak compromise. I click the “Fold/Check” button and grab my coat. At least this way I won’t knowingly donate my chips to a donk or deliberately surrender by removing myself from the tournament altogether.
After an hour we return and I go straight to the computer to find out the results.
Rather than a large message in the middle of the screen saying, “Snowman, you are a moron and you received fuck all” there was another one.
“Congratulations! You were placed 61st and $0.18 has been added to your account”.
What?
When I left I had amassed only 6,000 chips so I couldn’t have been more surprised if a live chicken had fallen out of my nostrils, but I may have inadvertently discovered the secret to freeroll tournaments. Play very conservatively until you reach about 10K and then go down the pub for an hour. It’s a bit of a gamble but it ensures a result.
I have therefore devised another new game based on this theory.
It’s called ‘Rodeo Sex’.
Once again the rules a very simple.
You have sex with your partner ‘doggy style’ and just as the proceedings reach a finale…call out someone else’s name.
Then see how long you stay on for.
I’m thinking of writing a letter to the International Olympic Committee to see if they’ll include it in the 2012 games. They could hold the heats right after the women’s beach volleyball.
The only hurdle would be a prejudicial one relating to the Paralympics. Unlike poker where anyone can compete on an equal level, disabled athletes would quite rightly need inclusion.
Hmmm…maybe the compulsory use of elbow pads and crash helmets?
It could work.

Tomorrow sees the advent of two important events: entry into a cash tournament and (probably more entertainingly) my attempt to put a new electrical socket into the dining room so with any luck you’ll carry on reading.

Wish me luck.

Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $1.05

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