Glass Half Full Thoughts and Other Shannanigans

It's Monday. As per usual I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Shannanigans abounded.

With 4 days left of the work week I need some happy thoughts to lift me out of the excel spreadsheets.

So I'm sending my happy thoughts out into the world. And then I'll get to the shannanigans.

1) It is 3 weeks, 3 days and 23.5 hours until Sooner Football! Time to dust off the coozie and Quentin Griffin jersey.

2) Texty. Texty. Flirty. Flirty.

3) My birthday is in 9 days. Cinnamons and McBadass Pub Crawl is in 12. Air up your bike tires and condition your livers people! It is going to be a dozy!

4) I found 7 bucks in my pants doing laundry this evening.

5) Still blissed from tearing up the jet ski yesterday. I really needed a few good wipe outs to set me back to rights.

Now that I am in a better mood, on to the Shannanigans.

THE BET:

It all started with a little shit-talking by the swimming pool on Saturday afternoon.

I had the pleasure of meeting a few guys who thought that girls who can shoot billiards are rare mythical creatures. Much like Unicorns or wives that give BJs outside of birthdays and anniversaries.

I felt it was my obligation to prove them wrong. So we ended up with the bet. Best Match 2 out of 3. If I win Ben would surrender his eternal servitude (namely help me move in 6 weeks).

It was a good match. He was better than I thought. I won the first game. He rallied for the second. By the third all 15 of our spectators were fully aware of the terms of the bet. We traded shots. Made difficult cuts, banks, and in the end ... I lost with one ball still left on the table.

So I had to surrender all public decency and shamelessly give the man a lap dance.

The stars aligned and thankfully Johnny Cash was playing on the jukebox. I don't think I could have rocked Lady GAGA in quite the same fashion. There was also a stripper pole right next to his chair. So I played the stripper with the heart of gold and rocked Folsom Prison for all it was worth.

I got a round of applause and a consolation shot for my efforts. Although the Jameson was not as sweet when tinged with the bitter aftertaste of defeat.

You know. Just some good clean fun on a Saturday night.