Game Time

When AJ and I play cards together, we gloat over each other terribly. We just finished playing “Phase Ten,” a card game like rummy with ten different rounds. It went something like this.

Round One: AJ wins. “Oh yeah! Sucka Foo’! Can’t Touch This!”

Round Two: I let AJ win again. “AAAAAAnd that’s what I’m talking about! Ha!”

Round Three: I win. “Oh Yeah, you wish you could have played as good as I just did!”

I’m sure you get the idea. In the end, AJ won this set (closely), and after a kiss and smile to show each other we never meant all the mean things we had just  finished saying, we packed away the cards.

I just realized that a preliminary glance at the title of this post might make you think I was writing about the upcoming Super Bowl. oi. The only(only) time I actually cared who won that humanistic display of materialism and decaying cultural ideals was when my home team, the Seahawks went a few years back. I promise not to go off on a tangent here about how the game was stolen by terrible (terrible) calls, resulting in a deep depression that smote the larger Seattle area for some time.  Great. Now I am writing about the Super Bowl.

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