When's the last time I bragged about my pool shooting ability? Regardless; there are few things* that make me as competitive, and/or make unfortunate jokes about your mother, with the exception of shooting POOL! [*batting cages/texas-hold-em/whiskey-drankin' being other examples]
For the first time in far too long, I busted out my bitch, my boo, er...the cue that several of my friends bought me for my 23rd birthday. This object is less a pool cue and more of a fuckin' sniper rifle. To make sure she was all good, I used these various colored pieces of film to clean the shaft [according to the directions, in various speeds/churning motions] gave her/it the once over and threw it in my trunk [of my car...but if that ain't baitin', I don't know what is!].
Once at the pool hall, my baby blinded the waitress' eyes! WHOA! I was banking shots like...Madoff on a meth binge! I digress...but in between shots, I noticed this random tick of mine became apparent. When I apply chalk to the tip of my cue, I station the bottom bumper on the tip/shelltoe on my foot [see below] and TWIST.
And then I strike...LIKE A FUCKING COBRA IN REHAB FOR METH! PSSSSSSSSSHHHH! I won the next, um....EVERY GAME! In your face straight-buddy-in-love-Mr. Texty-Text-man. Yeah, not a fair game(s), he's all in love with a girl, and I'm in love with a piece of wood (love you baby). And the Cubs lost tonight. Fuck...
