... an hour and a half ago my four year old daughter Emerald and I decided to play pogs. She had never played before so we each got thirty pogs each and I let her pick a slammer and we started playing. She sucked at first but I taughter her some good pointers and I told her how her mommy likes to play.
Soon she started getting better.
MUCH better, in fact.
Now, an hour later, I have only fifteen pogs left. Emerald, after four intense rounds, has almost cleared me out. So we're each putting fifteen pogs down on this next game. It's balls out for me, win and stay in it or lose vehemently to my four year old daughter.
I can't believe I went from kicking Tom and Joey and Jamie Wedow and Daif's ass backstage of "Once Upon a Mattress" in 1995 to being handed my ass by my four year old little kindergardner. What a fucking world. I used to be the fucking Tony Montana of pogs and now look at me? I'm a pog schmuck.
I need to get back in the game. I need ... a pog training montage!
(insert pog training montage here)