We call it 'Shot-zee'. You may know it as, 'Yahtzee'. It is the game we play when we don't want to think hard enough to put words together in Scrabble. It is the game we play when we want to drink. After all, how much coordination does one really need to roll dice eh? It's perfect.
Let me set the scene for you.
Saturday. It's yard sale day. Only we don't have a yard. We pack for the better part of the afternoon while people stroll in and out of our home rummaging through our things. 3pm rolls around and Finance gets a call from his buddy to go play kick ball and drink beers in the park. It is his best friends birthday. I could not go, because we still had things to sell. And I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to try and sell all my bridesmaids dresses.
A side-note: I don't care how pretty, cute, or neutral you think your bridesmaids dresses are...they will NEVER be worn again. So please don't tell me, 'You totally could wear this again'. Because I 'could', but I won't.
N-E-who. So Finance goes off to kickball, and I stay at the house and drink cider all day. He is at the park getting shit housed. I get tired and take a nap. 8:30pm rolls around and I go pick him up and take him to get dinner. He is tanked. We go have chicken nachos and more drinks. I pick up a bottle of wine and Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby on the way home.
We decide to play Yahtzee. I suggest we bet for money. There is a camera I REALLY REALLY WANT. In fact, it is DOOCE's camera. I want it for our trip around the world, and I have been practically selling my soul piece by piece to get the money together to buy it. And I know he has dollars.
I pull out my flow and count out about 100 bucks. He pulls out of his pants pocket a wad of bejamins and throws them on the table. Asshole. He just sold his motorcycle a few weeks ago, and has been carrying around this cash like it is nothing. I would have spent it within 3 days. This is why Finance always has money and I don't. He doesn't spend. And the satisfaction he gets out of watching my face in disgust as he throws down 600 dollars in cash, is PRICELESS.
There are 6 games in a round of Yahtzee. He suggests that we bet a hundred bucks a game, knowing full well that I can't match him. I tell him I don't have that kind of money. He says 'Well okay then, how bet we bet all or nothing. You win, I'll buy your camera. You lose, you get no camera.' Naturally I want to know the specifics. So I inquire:
'If I lose, does it mean that I just cant get THAT camera? Or I can't buy any camera at all for the trip and have to use the shitty $100 dollar one we bought in Texas last year?'
He replies: 'You get NADA'.
Alrighty then. So I think about this, while he is mumbling on and on about how I always want something and blah blah blah, and this would be the ultimate test, and I just can see he is fantasizing about the prospect that I might have to go without something that 'I THINK' I really need. I say 'You're not gonna be happy when you lose.'. He replies 'It's just money' with a big ol grin on his face.
So it's on. And he gets the video camera out and we video tape each round. We burn through the bottle of wine, and as finance is losing he pulls out the Macallans. He is shit-hiz-OUSED!
And guess who wins? Yours truely. Thank you very much, I'll take your dollars. Thanks for playing.
I grab the camera and start filming his response. He's slowed down quite a bit, and he is completely miffed that he has lost. It is clear that he is having trouble processing it all. So I hit record, and say 'Awww sweetie. It's okay, I'll kick you back the money after I sell my first print'.
He says to me, 'You're dreams are just fantasies!!!'. He looks like Gargamel. And he's not handling the loss so gracefully.
I say: 'Okay, now you're being ugly. And I'm going to bed'. End record. And I go to bed.
The next morning we are both hungover and lying in bed bathing in the nastiness that is lots of beer, cider, gin, Macallans, and wine. He gets out of bed to let the dogs out. A few minutes pass, and I have heard the dogs come back in and there is dead silence for a good 5 minutes.
You know how kids get real quiet when they disappear into another room and are either pooping in their pants, or getting into something they shouldn't be?
Well, I get suspicious and creep down the hallway to investigate. I walk in on him in the kitchen, naked as the day he was born, back to me leaning over the counter with a pencil and a calculator and our Yahtzee scorecards, making sure he really lost.
FUCKING PRICELESS!
