Monday, October 11, 2004
Service: * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * *
Babe Count: * * *
Okay. I understand something now.
I've been playing Harold tonight, and we've been neck on neck. But I've been at somewhat of a disadvantage. I've got a snippet of Country & Western music on constant replay in my head. I can't recall the band's name, but the female singer has one of those hiccuppy voices where she twangs every word into a snot-soaked stream of tears. You know what I mean... that post-nasal-drip gasp in a sugary throat.
You know WHY I've got this snippet of "music" running through my head? Because a few weeks ago, Harold lent me ten cds from his collection. He selected his favourite music to introduce me to it.
Which I THOUGHT was very noble of him. Until tonight. Cos you see, I've uncovered his nefarious plan. He KNEW that I'd feel obliged to listen to the things. And he KNOWS how godawful they are! He KNEW that he was gonna be playing me tonight, and he must have planned this months in advance.
So here I sit, trying desperately to focus and concentrate and whip his skinny little butt.
But all I can think of is, "I-iiiiii-iiiiii.... lurrrrrr-urrrrrrr-ve... you-ooooooo!"
So when I turn the cube to 4, and he takes, and a win for me will take me to 20-19 ahead, and a win for him will mean he's won the entire match 21-16, instead of being present at Pizza Pronto, thinking about the delicious artichoke pasta I've just eaten, instead of observing Harold's Country & Western eyebrows and glaring him into submission, instead of being the Shaved Tormentor that I am... instead, I'm battling the yodelling snot eater in my head.
So, I lose.