I was off to play poker on Friday night. Not necessarily Hold 'Em. It would be those wild card games where your Royal Flush get beat by 5 of a kind stuff (yeah, that happened to me). But I was a winner early in the night. I had parked my car in the driveway. 10 minutes later, it was just about in the ditch. Apparently it slipped out of gear and rolled down the driveway and across the street. Thankfully it stopped just at the top. I don't think the neighbor will like seeing the tire tracks in the grass as I peeled out of there. Last thing I wanted was to get in the car and let it slide back.
But the best part of the night, no not me crushing them in the 5 player quckie Hold 'Em, had to be Dave skipping his own party to play cards. Here is a guy with priorities. He had arranged a party at the bar but decided cards would be better. I loved it. Plus, he was like a walking ATM. He thought he could bluff people out or always thought someone was bluffing.
It was a fun night. In the end I was up $44. I even survived E's stinky ass. I think Randy will have to get a HASMET crew in to clean that stench out.
So on Saturday, I remembered that I wanted to get a haircut. Kind of necessary as I should look presentable on the job interviews I will be hitting soon. I call up my barber and find out I can get in at 11. I had hoped for the afternoon but that wasn't going to happen. This guy decides what hours he is working as the day goes on. I knew this may take a while as soon as I walked in the door. He had one guy in the chair and another waiting. The whole Seinfeld episode about reservations went through my head. He was talking away with the guy in the chair when this couple walked in the door. Old friends came to visit. He practically stopped cutting the guys hair to talk with these people. When he finally got the guy done, the next dude got the same treatment. Finally after a half hour, I slid into the chair. He was yapping away about the weather, the coffee and his new shears. He was proud that he bought new equipment. Apparently he can give a better haircut with these razors. That meant that the haircuts I had gotten from him before must have sucked. He starts cutting my hair and in the middle just stops and looks at something outside. He then walks away. A couple of minutes later, he comes back. Then he cracks a joke about the receptionist. He goes back to playing with the new shears and talking about how great they are. Dude, look at my head. Finish the damn cut! I think next time I bring the Ridelin.