AN OBSERVATIONAL, SELF-DEPRECATING, SOMETIMES UNCOMFORTABLE, BUT OCCASIONALLY INSIGHTFUL LOG OF A 20-YEAR-OLD CITY KID'S SARATOGA SUMMER

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Shakespeare's still running?

Fresh off a 32 BSF and a 21-month layoff, the Theatrical monster returns on Thursday, facing a stakes-worthy field of six others, headed by Poker victor Art Master. That is until Frankel scratches, which will leave gamblers with the excruciating ultimatum of singling the playwright or essentially passing on the pick four.

Haven't taken more than a perfunctory glance at the card, and will do so in the morning then report back, as I oddly have a day off one day after returning to work. Although with the way my tabs ran on Wednesday, one would probably be well served to stay clear of anything I recommend.

By the way, I managed to not run anyone over with the golf cart, and now I've graduated beyond bumper cars in my driving experience. Next step up has to be a car, right?

Decided that I'm absolutely taking a change of clothes to the track from now on so I can potentially go out drinking after the races with Lori or any other able bodies, and we're planning on popping into Siro's tomorrow after the races, although I'm pretty muthaflippin' broke. After that, I'm supposed to go to dinner with Sciacca and family again, to a "meatloaf joint" according to this kid Matt, so it might be a long night.

Off to watch The Daily Show and get some really filthy sleep, and will post at least some brief thoughts on tomorrow's card -- for those who haven't lost total faith or interest in me -- sometime in the early afternoon.

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