come on snake eyes

Summer has been like a cheap, ongoing board-game. Process of elimination helped me put my finger on the exact fun-filled game that i'm thinking of, but just for shits and giggles, lets recap the decision-making process. First i thought that maybe, despite the cliche, my life could be LIFE. But right off the bat with the whole "get a real job, house, husband, and children" i realized that LIFE was not so liveable. At that point, in my morning cynacism, i moved onto Sorry, thinking that maybe its apologetic nature would suit summers mistakes. Turns out not apologizing is more fitting for me than admitting i am wrong. It's one of my best qualities you know. Clue seemed too riveting, Candyland seemed too delicious, and i'm far too passive aggressive to dominate anything, so RISK was out of the question. Desperately scrambling, i went through any and all other rainy-day games that i could: Rummikub - more fitting for my grandma. Trivial Pursuit - i'm not well-rounded enough. Dominos - too communist. Backgamman - what the fuck? Eventually after some deliberation, it hit me. My summer was Monopoly. It was perfect. Monopoly, as far as i'm concerned, is the definitive, be-all and end-all of board-games. It has everything you need, both luck and strategy. It's competetive nature brings out the true colors of its participants, always leaving the strongest link on top, and only ends with frustration and/or a whole lot of tears. Plus, as Dane Cook so eloquently describes, this is anyone 4 hours into a game of monopoly. "fuck this game! it's 4 in the morning grandma, YOU WIN! plus where'd you get those pink 50s you cheating whore". Welcome to summer 08. Unfortunately i think i've hit the "go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars" moment in my estivation. Throughout the game so far i have been fairly strategic, choosing my moves as precisely as possible. So far my game has been played with very little slip-ups. The occasional bad card from the treasure chest has cost me temporary set backs, but it's always been compensated for through my rail-road profits or boardwalk turn-ins. It all happened so suddenly. One bad roll of the dice, completely in the hands of fate, and i'm in the dog-house. I don't have the cash for enough bail, and while the justice system gives me one low-probability attempt at scoring freedom, my competitors are racking up all the primo property. Ok, my hyperbole has been spread as thin as it can be by now, and i'm just grasping for straws. What i'm really talking about is that i usually know exactly what to do, but here i feel like it's out of my hands. I know you read this, and may not appreciate my poorly constucted analogy, because it's not fitting at all, but i want you know know that i don't know what i'm supposed to do from here. When you care about someone, you take what they give you, even if it's complete shit. I'm sorry if that's what i've been dishing. Honestly, i'll miss you like crazy.