Because in line at the grocery store there was a guy talking on his cell phone to his bookie.  Loudly.

(Ok, so since I can’t remember the exact language he used, and I’m not intimately familiar with “bookie speak,” the following is reproduced to the best of my memory and in the spirit of the conversation.)

Illegal Gambler:  Yeah, I wanna put some money on that game.  (Pause)  Give me six points on Baltimore at the half and then for the win.  What’s the spread on that?  (Pause)  Yeah give me that.  I’m also gonna do the college game tonight.  Give me eight points for Virginia at the half and for the win.  If I win, what do I get?  (Pause)  A quarter?  (Pause)  Ok, ’cause I still owe on that last loss.  (Pause)  Yeah, right.  Ok, do that.  Yeah, and I’ma do a couple other games too.  What’s the spread for the other game?  (Pause)  Yeah, gimme two on Washington.  (Pause)  What?  Dammit.  They tipped off already.  Too late.  Forget it.  (Hangs up phone in disgust).

I love this town.


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