I Love a Good Bet

Nick and I are always betting on something. They are usually simple little bets like how much money is in the coin jar, or what type of breed a dog was at the park, or how old Angelina Jolie is. Sometimes there's a wager, but more times than not, it's just for fun. I'd like to think that I win more than I lose, but I am sure Nick will beg to differ. I am sorry to say that when I do win, I am not very gracious about it. I tend to rub it in a little by doing the I'm-a-winner-you're-a-big-fat-loser dance round and round his body.

Last night we went to Champp's for dinner. Nick ordered a Patty Melt and as an after thought, asked her to put mushrooms on it. The waitress did not write it down, and then went to 2 more tables after ours. I bet him that there would not be mushrooms on the patty melt, and he said there would be. (Yes this is the level of excitement that our life has become) The wager was, if there were no mushrooms on the sandwich, Nick had to wear his hair slicked back like a sleazy Italian for 3 days this week to work PLUS (this is a big one), I could purchase a new pair of Ugg boots that I have been eyeing. If there were mushrooms, I had to choose between cutting my hair to my chin, or tattooing Nick's name on my butt. (I know what you're thinking; I married a sicko) I think my hair will look like a coiffed poodle if I cut my hair that short, so I almost agreed to the tattoo. After all, what's 4 tiny little letters on a place where no one will see. That was until he informed me that it had to be his full name. First, Middle, Last and the suffix, Sr. That's 28 letters. Uh-uh fool, I went with the haircut. After all, hair grows back eventually, right? And he's the one that will have to look at me day after day until it does. So we shook on it. It was stupid, but all I could envision was how nice my new boots were going to look, and how funny it would be to watch him walk out of the house all week looking like Tony Soprano.

I underestimated the talents of our fine waitress, because sure as heck, there were mushrooms covering the entire top of that stupid sandwich. I LOST! And of course, I, being the mature person that I am, wished that he choked on one of those dumb things for the rest of our meal.

When we got home, Nick proudly got the laptop and started scouring the Internet for short curly hair cuts. Of course there aren't any because everyone knows you can't have short curly hair unless you look like Meg Ryan, WHICH I DON'T!! You can be certain that I will be looking for some other bet to wager with my darling husband where I don't have to cut my hair if I win.

So long Ugg's, I will visit you at Nordstrom soon. I promise!