a day at the races

Horse races on Sunday. My first time.

Like shiftless artists and clueless gamblers, we stuck to $2 bets and the race-by-race commentary. Sometimes it did us right. Sometimes not.

Brennan: This is an exercise in regret.
Halena: (returning to her seat) I just bet on a horse because they said he was an underachiever.
We look at the Race 5 commentary, horse 7.
"7. DENIM (Presser) A talented underachiever for most of his career..."
Halena: Yeah. They think they're writing that about the horse, but in all actuality, it's about me. COME ON, TALENTED UNDERACHIEVER!
Sure enough, now that I am not in a show for the first time in 6 months, I'm starting to feel that slight sheen of pathetic. Everyone else is in shows. Everyone else is doing something good and big. They're passing me up. I'm getting left behind.

I conservatively picked two favorites to show: "would consider him the biggest threat" and "the one to beat, once again" and lost my $4.

Denim, talented underachiever, won his race.

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