Always Pressing My Luck

I’ve realized that I tend to always press my luck. Even if I know the result I’ll see if I can beat it. Actually, we are all probably like this. It could be from laziness to never wanting to hear the word “can’t” to the gambling nature in some of us. It's obviously a little of all three for me. If I could somehow narrow when I press my luck down to better odds, I’d probably put a lot less stress on myself. Here are few short examples in my life where too I pressed my luck and get Whammied.

I know that guy across the table was slow playing his trip Queens. He also never ever bluffs. But, that King on the river gave me two pair, and what if this is the one time he’s bluffing. He calls my raise and I’m out of the game.

I bet if I get enough speed I can make that jump on my bike. After flipping on my back, I’m left sucking for the air knocked out of my lungs.

What are the chances that a bottle rocket will actually hit me in a bottle rocket fight? A few minutes later my ears are ringing as I try to smear the burnt mark off my shirt.

Nobody will notice if I just finish up the timed quiz while the teacher is collecting them. Half an hour later I’m bent over a chair as the whistle of the paddle sings in the air.

My little brother sure is angry about my comical put-downs. I wonder how many more he can take? After one put-down too many I find myself shoved through the glass window of the storm door.

I’ve never skateboarded in my life. But now that my Dad has bought me a skateboard I should try a difficult trick. I’m sure I can pick it up quickly. Fifteen seconds later I’m snapping my fractured arm back in place.

This girl and I sure are getting along well. Rather than just taking it easy and letting things develop I should press the matter. Two dates later and she won’t return my twentieth phone call of the day.

I’m driving my ‘74 Ford Maverick. I wonder how fast this car can go. In fact I know a certain stretch of road where I could find out. With the needle pressing 95, I’m sure I can reach a hundred. The flashing blue and red lights keep me from finding out. The car also never ran the same.

I bet I can make it to work in 20 min. Cut to 10:00am and I’m bitching about there being traffic in LA.

I can make it through the day on four hours sleep. I’ll stay up and keep writing/watching TV/playing video game/writing a blog post. By noon the next day I’m already doing the head bob.

When I smoke I’m always pressing my luck.