Stream of Consciousness Sunday: The Friday Poker Edition

I was just complaining to my husband that I don’t have any ideas to write about. Just fragments of thought that wouldn’t necessarily lead to anything more than a paragraph of dribble. I hate dribbling, it’s so messy. So, I decided to take my friend Lou’s advice and just write whatever is on my mind. Which, in turn, led me to remember that Fadra hosts Stream of Consciousness Sunday. So yeah, this is my first post for that awesome idea.

I was thinking about the fact that I used to HATE when my husband had poker EVERY FRIDAY. It drove me nuts. I couldn’t stand the noise, the cigar stink that, even when they smoke outside, it filters into the house somehow and I especially despised the build up of beer bottles lining my kitchen counter. Because those beer bottles which, by the time these fellers were done with their poker game at 2 a.m, would have multiplied, divided and conquered my kitchen. And, when I woke up in the morning, the different varieties of empty beer bottles and cans would be staring at me, begging me to wash them out and put them into bags to be later taken to the store to return for their deposit so that someday, they could once again be filled with the bubbly, intoxicating liquid and line my counters again.

Yeah, I used to hate that. Actually, the part about the beer bottles and stink…I still don’t love. It’s annoying because if I don’t clear them on Saturday mornings, they usually sit on the counter until Sunday or Monday, taking up all workable space thus rendering my kitchen useless to cook in. Hey…maybe that’s a pretty good deal after all.

But recently, as in, the last year or so, I’ve made Poker Fridays into my night to exit the kingdom. I go out with my friends instead of sitting here listening to stupid testosterone talk and farts.

I actually look forward to Fridays now. My GNO night.

The only thing that pisses me off is, sometimes when I come home buzzed and giggly after having a fun evening, I find my 7 year old still awake. After midnight?! There are times when no one bothers to remind him that he is still a little kid, not a teenager or poker playing husband, and he needs his sleep.

Goodbye giddy GNO buzz, hello Mommy pants.

Other than that little issue, I embrace the regular poker nights now.

So, while I’m streaming about Friday poker nights…

This one particular Friday evening, I came home a little earlier than normal. There were a bunch of smelly dudes and one woman sitting around my dining room table, cards and beer in hand.

Her back was to me when I walked in. I noticed her skin tight clothes, her low cut jeans even lower while sitting, exposing the top of her butt crack. And I ASSUMED that a hooker or stripper had been brought to our house once again and I was NOT PLEASED.

It was during the summer so all the windows were open wide, letting the evening cigar air waft into our home. My husband, who was sitting on the front porch at the time of my hooker sighting, was the smelly culprit.

I went outside to tell him, loudly, that I don’t appreciate having strippers in my house. It’s bad enough that people smoking god knows what on our property. But, having all sorts of stuff going on around the place, especially with kids roaming in and out of the house, was something that I felt strongly opposed to.

He gave me a look. Well, I think it was a look. It was dark out at the time, the only light was from the embers of his cigar and the half burnt out front porch lights.

He started laughing at me. I was like WTF?

She’s not a hooker OR a stripper, he informed me. She’s a teacher at his school.

AH. I see.

Then I noticed that the window in the dining room was open. WIDE OPEN. The very same dining room that the smelly poker playing guys and the non-hooker were.

OOPS.

I’m not sure she heard me, the music was blaring and the voices were loud to be heard over the music and each other.

But I still cringe at the thought that she may have been privy to our conversation due to some supersonic hearing. And despite my judgement, which…she really DID look like a stripper or a hooker…I’d hate to think that I hurt someone’s feelings. I’m really hoping that she doesn’t dress like that at school though because yikes.

So yeah, that’s my story. I know, you feel enlightened now. You’re welcome.

Now, though, I almost beg him to have poker on Fridays, unless I happen to make my plans for Saturday which, then I beg him to have poker on Saturday instead.

All in all, as much I hated my husband having poker EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY NIGHT. WITHOUT FAIL. I have turned it into my GNO night, which we women all need. WITHOUT FAIL.

Poker nights have turned into a win-win for both my husband AND myself.

So, if you want to link up to Stream of Consciousness Sunday, click this button and do!!

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