Odds On Or 15-1

Never guess where I was last night. Back at Loverdale Downs again. Last night was the fifth to last card of the local standardbred track's season. The racing surface has been dry and fast and the horses have been running close to form - that is when fans of the racing work horse, as I am, have whatever little edge on the game is possible.

You do not have to be a fan of horse racing to have a good time at one of your local racetracks. The beer is moderately priced (compared to what Canuck supporters allow themselves to be charged at Dope City's forever cursed hockey rink), the food is good and I have yet to see much in the way of trouble in all my years of attending either of the local ovals.

Get your ass to the track! Saturday is Kentucky Derby Day. My unfailingly wrong choice to win the race will be here posted later in the week. Pick one of the other nineteen horses to run and you just might have yourself something to cheer about now the Canucks have met their much deserved doom.

I drank the racetrack's beer. Not too much for a change. Sonja drank their wine. We ate their buffet. I had two pieces of lemon meringue pie. Picked five of twelve. Three favourites, a third choice in the betting and a longshot I had also bet in its two previous races because I could see he was ready for a big unexpected run and did not want to miss out when he performed up to my expectations. 15-1. A big motherfucking thank you to the connections of Cash Account.

Before we left the track for home Sonja, who loves me more than ever when I am on a winning streak, asked, "How much fucking money have you got on you?" I handed over my wallet and she took what she thought I did not need to bet on the Kentucky Derby. I like it when she takes the money I have won from other people at the track. Money does not mean shit to me except for beer money. Never did and never will. I play the horses for the intellectual challenge of picking winners, a great pleasure when they cross the line odds on or 15-1.