I may have a gambling problem. The problem? I always lose.
Star woke me at 11:30 this morning with the bright idea of heading to the horsetrack. I had about 50 bucks to spend until payday this Friday.
What the hell, right? Turn that 50 into 150. That was the plan, anyway.
Never works out that way. I was up, then down, then down more, then up a little bit. I had this great trifecta box worked out for the fourth race - 10, 9, 7.
Somewhere in the deep dark crevices of my intuition a voice spoke up, "That 45-1 shot with the female jockey sure ran a fast race at this length the last time."
I should've bet on the long shot. That bitch totally screwed my trifecta. The finish was 6(longshot), 10, 9, 7. If I'd bet win, place, or show on her I would've been up about 150.
Maybe I should've just went to church instead.
And Spencer's drunk ass broke his leg trying to jump a fence last weekend. He's laid up in Irving, eating pills and being waited on hand and foot. The lucky bastard.
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