In Which The Man is An Ass

So, since I've been diagnosed with the Meneire's Disease, I requested a formal, retroactive apology for the 13 years of teasing for being clumsy that I've endured from The Man.

He responded, "No, because you're still clumsy, there's just a reason for it!"
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McJo's Poker Tournament results: I came in seventh, out of 32 people. The top five got money, starting at like $30 and going up to like $450.

In a nutshell, I played Texas Hold-Em poker for 10 1/2 hours - in my house, which is of course wrecked due to 32 people traipsing through it all day - and I got jack shit for the effort, except for the pride of being the last woman at the final table.

It's two in the morning, more than 12 hours since we started, and the game is still going on, outside my bedroom door. And, if you can believe this...I am so pissed that I'm not still playing right now, I cannot even begin to tell you. (I'm oddly competitive, for a pacifist.)

Wah, yes, I do b'lieve I'd love an Ambien, thank yew very much! And, good night! Bastards!