True stories of an angry man.
Two for the price of one over at Crunchable this week - I wrote a feature article about all the shitty stuff that happened in pro sports in 2007, and a Snackable piece about how much I suck at seeing movies. Check it out!
In other news, I made a rare weeknight appearance outside of my own apartment Monday night. Heather and Mel were hosting a game night, and I had the pleasure of joining the two of them and the inimitable Mike Barron for my favorite infuriatingly luck-based card game, Phase 10. If you've ever played games/watched sports/sat in traffic with me, you know that I have a bit of a temper when things aren't going my way. Monday night, with the aid of a glass of wine and the company of a few friends who aren't often exposed to my darker side, I was trying to keep my emotions in check. But I was also being destroyed with military precision by the whims of the cards, and I may have directed my frustration at the player immediately to my left, same Michael Barron. I am relatively certain that all of the following happened over the course of the game, which ended with Mike victorious and yours truly lagging far behind in third place:
1. I may have told Mike that he was a "bad helper monkey", because he was not discarding anything of use to my person.
2. I may have uttered the phrase "Jesus Christ on a Cracker", which I could have sworn was a real saying, but which seemed to be new to my companions.
3. I may have instructed Mike, during a particularly infelicitous hand for moi, to just cut out the middle-man and discard a cyanide capsule so that I might ingest it, rather than continuing the game.
4. On at least one occasion, possibly more (considering the multiple hands he won and his occasional uses of the "Skip" card for its intended purpose), I just might have called Mike a "horsefucker".
I wish for all parties involved to know that I meant no harm and that I thoroughly enjoyed the card game and the evening as a whole, despite outward appearances.