Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: christianity, entertainment, fun, games, Poker, religion
Now before some of you lose your minds and start planning how you’re going to blow up my blog with comments about your faith, your religion or how insensitive I am….
RELAX.
This is an idea I came up with in the middle of a hot flash at 4:00am – not my best work, but that’s what I was thinking about so now you get to think about it, too.
Now that we have the disclaimer out of the way, we need to talk poker. For those of you who don’t know how to play poker, there comes time in every player’s game that they choose to bluff (or not) about what cards they’re holding. Sometimes this is out of desperation, and sometimes it’s a calculated lie designed to throw others into confusion about when you may or may not be telling the truth later in the game. Most people have a “tell” or small mannerism that will let others know when they are bluffing.
I have a theory that how you play poker reflects your spiritual beliefs, or at least where you are on the spectrum of being a believer in something higher than yourself or not. Over time, your faithfulness will be your “tell.”
Don’t worry, people – I’m not going to call out you Baptists, Episcopalians, Catholics, Bhuddists, Muslims, Jews or anybody else. I’m just going to lay out some completely unfounded observations about the game of poker and who might be more inclined to play one way or another based on their level of faith, no matter what religion they are.
Poker players who often go “all in” (bet their entire wad on one hand) are probably atheists. After all, what have they got to lose? There is no higher being to pray to for help or that is controlling the outcome of the game. It’s harder to bluff an atheist, but heck…miracles happen. When atheists win, they like to point out to the rest of the players that they were bluffing so the faithful (they hope somewhere deep down) will learn that being gullible is bad. And, when atheists are done playing, they simply walk away…or pass out on the couch after watching Ancient Aliens while they wait for everyone else to finish.
The faithful (if they’re playing at all) will bluff too, but for a different reason – they instinctively feel that because the atheists don’t believe in things they can’t prove, atheists won’t believe that others are as good at bluffing as they are. The faithful also tend to fall for the bluff more than other players – they already believe in something they can’t see or prove, so believing another player got the royal straight flush on the river card isn’t that much of a stretch. When the faithful are finished playing, they frequently can be found looking introspective, trying to find the meaning behind the loss.
Agnostics, however, are the biggest losers in poker because they are constantly hedging their bets. They ante on every play, no matter what they have in their hand, because the flop might just have that magical or miracle combination to make that 7 and 8 worth it. Then, they put in just enough on each betting round to stay in, but won’t commit to the big pots. Eventually they fold somewhere in the middle of the game, having steadily lost their chips out of fear of taking the plunge, one way or the other. Without the freedom of the atheists and the cushion of the faithful, they resolve to play differently next time, even though this never happens.
But what about people who don’t give religion a second thought…like, ever? Aaahhh…these are the poker players you should fear. Why? Because they aren’t praying or trying to control their own destinies or hedging their bets – they’re thriving on their love of the game. They live in the moment. Do they bluff? Maybe – but what’s more important to them is that they’re playing at all.
Is that how you should go through life? Completely in the moment without a thought to what’s next, or if there’s something bigger out there? I doubt it – but in these uncertain times, being in the moment may be exactly what you need, even if only for a little while.
So deal the cards and play how you play – but just remember to be happy you’re sitting at the table.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Sports | Tags: ambulance, cars, crime, friendship, fun, horseback riding, Horses, humor
(Names have been changed to protect…well, you be the judge.)
Recently my friend Amy’s daughter Grace was taken to the hospital after a fall from her horse during a horse show. Don’t worry – she’s fine. But what happened on the way to the hospital just shows that there’s humor even in frantic and scary situations.
As the EMTs were loading Grace into the ambulance, Amy called out to Grace’s boyfriend to take her car and follow the ambulance. Eager to help, Dominic raced across the showgrounds, found the car and was soon trailing the ambulance on the highway.
Meanwhile, in the ambulance, a clearly concussed Grace keeps squinting out the back window. Noticing her daughter starting to strain to see through the rear window she asked, “What, honey?”
“I – I think that’s Dominic behind us,” Grace mumbled.
Amy looked out the back window and, sure enough, it was Dominic following them – but in the wrong car.
Amy tried in vain to get Dominic’s attention by waving her arms, making a “cut/stop” motion with her hand across her throat and mouthing that’s not my car! Dominic had no idea what she was doing – he was busy changing the preset radio stations from gospel to country and rock.
When they got to the hospital, Dominic rushed to Grace’s side.
“You ok, babe?” he asked.
Grace chuckled softly. “Uh-huh. But You’re a criminal.”
“What?” Dominic asked.
“You’re a criminal – that’s not my mom’s car.”
Amy added, “You have to go back to the show and get my car – it has my purse and ID in it!”
Because he’s a good boy, Dominic promptly freaked out. He jumped into the borrowed car, drove back to the showgrounds and did what any red-blooded American would do – parked the car in the same spot and used his t-shirt to wipe the steering wheel, radio buttons and door handle for fingerprints. As far as we know, no one was the wiser for his mistake.
All this is funny by itself, and typical of my friends. But here’s what I still makes me laugh:
- I still wonder what the owners of the “stolen” car thought when they got back in at the end of the day – the radio stations were different and the car seat was in a different position.
- What did the other drivers behind the ambulance think when they saw Amy waving and mouthing words from the back window of the ambulance? That she was a psych patient that needed more meds? That the ambulance was secretly a rape van and she was being kidnapped? Or that she was celebrating because England beat Sweden in the World Cup?
- Grace and my daughter (D2) look out for each other at these events. One time, Grace and Dominic raced to our house to get D2’s rescue inhaler while she sucked on oxygen at the end gate. D2 has accompanied Grace to the hospital a couple of times now, and each time she takes a selfie. It’s what friends are for…keepin’ it real…
Filed under: Exercise, Posts | Tags: 10k, Exercise, fun, marathon, monument, race, Running, sports, sportsbackers
- In all of your race pics (at a purchase price of a mere $18 each), there’s no thrill of victory or agony of defeat – you just look irritated, like your headband is too tight.
- You get super-annoyed and embarrassed when the guy running in the inflatable T-Rex outfit passes you – and yet you just can’t muster up the energy to try and catch him. Grandmas doing that weird run/walk thing also pass you…you know the ones – their upper bodies look like they are running, but their legs are just walking.
- You pour water on your face so you look sweaty just before you run past your gym’s sponsor tent, then walk the rest of the way.
- Every hill feels like Mount Everest, and nothing like level 10 on the tread mill.
- You consider stopping to see if the nice first aid people need any help in their pretty red tents; then you find the port-o-john with the longest line and stand in it.
- You don’t care at all what your race time is – you’re just happy you finished without needing a trip to the orthopedist and a bottle of Aleve.
- You own the cool Bluetooth headset but still carry your phone in its ridiculous mom-phone case.
- You seriously consider taking one of the beers those college kids in the togas are handing out, but you know it will end in guilt, a handful of Tums and maybe vomiting stealthily on T-Rex guy’s shoes from behind.
- Your special running socks don’t do shit – your hips, legs, and even your size-A boobs hurt after mile one. People who actually achieve nipple chafing seem like they’re another species.
- …and yet you sign up repeatedly for “races” with misplaced optimism:
- “I know I can do more than one mile this year…”
- “This year the weather will be warmer/cooler/sunnier/cloudier so I’ll do better…”
- “Wait…you put me in which flight?”
- “I’ll just start running with you guys and walk when I need to…”
- “Next year I’m going to start training earlier…and dress up as a Velociraptor.”
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: boredom, bullying, cow tipping, crime, fun, games, jokes, Middle-Age, practical jokes, social media, stealing, theft
With all the warnings about bullying on social media in the news, I started wondering when playing jokes on people moved from the relatively fun and harmless (i.e. stink bombs, shuffling someone’s CDs into all the wrong cases) to the soul-destroying campaigns causing young people to want to kill themselves.
What happened to the creativity? It’s easy to smear someone’s reputation anonymously online. It’s much harder to find a way to grow grass on someone’s carpet while they’re home on break, or to remove the slats from their bed so that it crashes when they sit on it, and not get caught. Or better yet, get caught, have a laugh, repair the damage and wait for the required retribution. At the very least, you’ll find out which of your friends don’t have the same sense of humor as you do – best to lave them alone.
When I was a teenager growing up in a small rural town, there wasn’t a lot to do aside from partying in the woods like every clichéd country anthem. When the cops showed up, they just told everyone to go home – even getting busted was pretty boring. So we had to find other things to do to liven it up, like cow tipping, which is not impossible, but in my experience always unsuccessful because there’s nothing louder than a bunch of teenagers trying to be quiet. Plus, cows don’t really sleep standing up.
We also “borrowed” grocery store shopping carts and left them in our friends’ front yards. Nothing says “I have friends my parents love” like waking up and trying to explain why there are three grocery store carts parked on your front porch and one has beer cans in it. Oh, and could I please use the family car to do the right thing and return it?
In my twenties, that same boredom and lack of funds caused some of my friends to turn to stealing milk crates from the backs of convenience stores (free shelving) and swiping anything to do with Pabst Blue Ribbon from bars (free glassware and wall decorations). That shot/bar glass collection that every twenty-something seems to have? It’s usually partnered with a stack of coasters or posters.
Now, as a mature adult, when I don’t have money for things, I sulk or charge my credit card ‘cause that’s not real money anyway. The labeled glasses I have the days are purchased from wine tastings, not bars, and if a shopping cart ends up in my yard, it wasn’t my generation that deposited it there.
But not everyone has purged that reflex. For example, “J” still maintains and updates her massive collection of signs. She has a secret room (yes, it’s red) that is wallpapered with signs from restaurants, hospitals, streets, restrooms and bars. She even carries around sign-removing tools in her purse so she won’t miss an opportunity. Another friend has three full-size stoplights under his house (don’t ask).
I have only been seriously tempted to take one item in my recent adult life, and that is the photograph of a black lab sitting on a beach that hangs above the toilet in the bathroom at my local restaurant. It was a running joke for a while that one day I was going to have one too many drinks and walk out with it. Years later, I’m glad I didn’t. Recently, I was in the same bathroom and noticed that above the picture I liked is a new picture – the same dog sitting on the same beach, but clearly many years older. There is white around his muzzle, and he has the bony-hipped look old dogs get. This is, or maybe was, someone’s pet. If I had taken that picture, I might have been taking someone’s memory of their beloved dog.
Sometimes being a grownup brings the maturity that destroying someone anonymously (or not) isn’t a great use of your time, creative skills or humanity. And sometimes being a grownup brings a lot of sentimentality with it – which also happens to protect a lot of things.
So I didn’t steal the picture. I stay off social media as far as destroying people, and I let karma do its job.
Also, I don’t carry a purse big enough to carry out two 11×14 picture frames.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Sports, Travel | Tags: boat, boating, cabelas, fish, Fishing, fun, jaws, marketing, outdoors, sportsman, vacation
I recently got my Cabela’s weekly supplement in the mail. As I was flipping through, marveling at the wide assortment of camouflage apparel and accessories, I came across a sale on fishing kayaks.
I’m a big fan of fishing – I love getting up at dawn, racing along the still waters of the lake to “the spot,” and casting in that rhythmic way that feels like meditating. I even love the small heart attack every nibble and bite produces – yes, I am probably the only person in the world who can make fishing stressful. But I still love it.
I also like kayaking – not as much, but it’s great exercise and is a wonderful way to see different things along the shoreline that you might otherwise not notice going 20 knots in the boat.
I DO NOT, however, like the idea of doing those two things at the same time.
I do not want to be on the same plane as the fish, especially if it’s a big catfish flopping around with spikes that can ruin your corn-on-the-cob-holding hand. Just because I like to eat a jar of pickles at a time doesn’t mean I want to sit in a vat of pickle juice while I do it.
I cannot fathom hooking a big old bass, wrestling it into…my lap? Are you kidding me? That small heart attack I mentioned would be nothing to the panic that would ensue after I got bitch-slapped by that fish.
Plus, I saw the movie Jaws. I am NOT going to hook a fish and be dragged to my death, bobbing and weaving like those yellow barrels.
So thank you, Cabela’s and all you avid sportspeople for combining two peaceful activities into one stressful, death-inducing trip into angler Hell.
You better believe “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
Subourbon Mom 