One of the curses of being really smart, hence the malt liquor consumption, is remembering stupid and useless shit from decades ago. Normally my overactive brain limits this to something insipid like remembering the names of the cast members of Gilligan's Island. Maybe it's even worse that I remember the way that soap works from high school chem. Water has a positive charge on one end and a negative on the other. One end bonds with soap and the other bonds with dirt. The water rips the dirt off your skin when it's attached on the other side.
I would have used bipolar disease, but I feel the need to be a bit more bizarre for the chance to be more humorous.
y super power of patience allowed me to be bored at this Omaha Hi-Lo table because it pretty much doesn't matter where I am. Something weird or even outright bogus is bound to happen.
Toska was on this table, sitting out, when I first joined. About 45 minutes before the first chat was posted. And that supreme linguistic achievement was -
A single emoticon.
Shortly after that was a single sentence by someone re-buying with way too few chips for this high octane table.
Let's call this the negatively charged part of the dipole. The lack of chat. But the real meat is in the positive side in part two.
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