I’m not much of a card player but I do think I’d be awesome on one of those poker TV shows. Why? Because I think the whole stoic poker face strategy is way overrated. As for me, I would do just the opposite. I would totally mess with my opponents’ heads by being as expressive and annoying as possible. Let me explain.
I would start by humming Kenny Rogers songs. This would subtly convince the other players that I am indeed a professional gambler. Then, whenever I got a new card, I would say things like: “cha-ching,” “holy cow,” “YES!” or “Why me, God, why?”
Next, as the tournament heated up, I’d ramp up my game with some of the following techniques: Pick up my cell phone, call a lawyer and begin bankruptcy procedures. Sing the Hallelujah chorus at the top of my lungs. Hop on the table and do the “running man.” Weep uncontrollably.
Superman had Lex Luthor. Batman had the Joker. Holmes had Moriarty. And me? I had the high school life guards at the public swimming pool. Though their names and faces changed over time, they were my elementary school arch-enemies, my nemeses, my thorns in the flesh, every last one of them. They solely existed to ruin my fun and humiliate me in front of my friends.
Not that I’m bitter.
Sometimes, though, I still wake up in a cold sweat, imagining I’ve heard their whistles and fascist voices barking orders in the middle of the night. No running! No cannonballs! No diving into the baby pool! No breathing!
The summer after my freshman year in high school I stuck a suction cup to my forehead and couldn’t get it off. It came from one of those Nerf basketball goals, the kind you’re supposed to stick to a window. After awhile, though, windows lose their magic. Don’t ask me why I stuck it to my forehead. It’s a long a story about a unicorn and the circus that wouldn’t seem nearly as funny now as it did then.