Monday, March 17, 2008

Best Laid Plans

I have a friend who is so confident in the expression of his needs that he gets away with anything. He's also the proverbial smartest guy in the room and immensely likeable, so any quirkiness is not only forgiven, but celebrated. Stan could cut you off mid-sentence and say, "I'm going to go to a different room because I'm tired of talking to you," and you'd be thankful for his refreshing honesty.

He and Grey were supposed to come visit us this weekend, but he called on Saturday afternoon to say that they were having an argument that couldn't be quickly resolved, so he had to cancel the trip. They were going to finish their argument in Portland.

Whenever Stan and Grey come up to visit, it's a celebration. For one thing, it's always fun when an anti-social person like Stan comes out of his shell and drinks and laughs with you. For another thing, we always play poker. Everyone buys in for $3 worth of chips, and off we go. Since I'm a fantastic poker player, I was looking forward to supplementing my income this weekend. Poker is easier money than the alternative -- exotic dancing. With my counterproductive bronchial spasms, it would take my longer than usual to fill my g-string with greenbacks, and by the end of the night, I could look forward only to exhaustion. If the government would reverse its decision and see fit to give me my share of the stimulus package, I wouldn't have to dance sexily or abuse my friends at poker. I could just relax and watch television.

Anyway, when I told Wendy that Stan cancelled his visit because he was having an argument with Grey, Max wanted to know why they were arguing. He and Luke began to speculate:

"Maybe Stan was supposed to drive first, and Grey wouldn't let him," supposed Max.

"Or maybe Grey wanted to be the first to climb a tree, and Stan wouldn't let her," offered Luke.

"Or maybe Stan called Grey a butt," said Max.

"Yeah, a dumb butt," said Luke.

I think they're onto something. Good luck with your argument, dumb butts.