Astros 0, Powell 0

The Astros lost the World Series, just as I expected. I expected this because I bet on them. As every casino in Vegas knows, the only sure bet is that I am terrible at predicting outcomes. A quick example: I got up midway through Old Yeller so I could put $50 on the dog to live. And then, when it died, I got up again to put $50 on it coming back to life. And then, when the movie was over and the credits rolled, I bet double or nothing the dog had been played by Freddie Prinze, Jr. There was a lot of history to overcome with this bet.

That's not to say that I just sat idly by, and watched the whole thing go down in flames. No way, man. Before game one, I sent Roger Clemens a text message that read: "Bad news, dood. i bet on ur team." And Roger being Roger, responded with: "lol. i win ur money back. ttyl." Well guess what, Roger? The only time you'll ttyl to me is NEXT SEASON! The Curse of Powell is nothing to laugh at. If you do choose to laugh at it, make it seem like you're coughing; don't just flaunt it with an lol. I don't even know why these guys are in my cell phone if they're going to ignore every curse related text message I send them.

So, I lost. To make matters worse, I lost to the ladyfriend. That's the stinger right there. I'm used to being put in my place by friends, family, coworkers, and derelicts that I meet in the railyard, but not her. We were a team of equals. Now, we're still equals, one is just a little more equal in the financial department and has taken to calling the other "Bitch ass loser". Still, equals.