It's football season and I got money on this shit. In my world money on the line equals anxiety. You see, I don't have much money to be just throwing around willy nilly and I'm naturally a bit of a cheapskate no matter how much cheese I have. Here in lies the conundrum....I don't like losing money, but I love the rush, strategy, and braggin rights that go along with winning anything. Basically I'm a penny pincher who has all the tenants that can lead to gamblers anonymous. bObD knows that my lifelong ambition is to become a professional gambler and live out my twilight years in Vegas. Of course those two parts of me clash violently into one another thus rendering my ambition a pipe dream.
It's okay tho, I try to live in the NOW and what's happening now is that I have a grand total of $70.00 on the line in three gambling ventures involving our great American sport called football. She took $50.00 for a fantasy league, $15.00 for another fantasy league, and $5.00 for a pick'em league. The exhilarating feeling of making a good pick on draft day or picking the perfect fit off the waiver wire that makes me high. She knows I'm a feign, call me Pooky.....but it's that in between lingering anxiety wondering whether or not you actually made that right pick that kills me. It's the waiting and I'm so impatient. I've started having stomach problems and I'm wondering if she's the cause. Somethings got to give, but I know it's too late for me. Football has me and she's not letting go.
-tshurn
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