I have two papers (rough drafts) sitting next to me that want to be peer-reviewed.  One looks like it'll be good (probably heavy) and the other scares me.  I think that's too bad.  I hope I can do a good job as an editor.  Skills exist, it's just focus and alertness I wish I could just switch on like an appliance.  There it is.

So... I won the bet.  The New York Giants took the Superbowl and I won the bet. My co-wagerer did not come in until after 1pm today but I didn't think he'd show up at all, guessing how hard I would gloat.  He said he realized he needed to pay up so he dragged himself in.

Upon initial eye-contact, he dropped his head in mock-shame.  If I didn't have customers before me, I would have been smack-talking like a jerk.  (I eventually made time for it.)

I yelled, "Hey!  Did you watch the Superbowl??" hoping to continue to ask dumb questions until he had to admit in public what kind of loss he had suffered.  He replied, all innocent-like, "Oh - there was a game on last night?"  I continued to serve customers.  He gestured toward Tim Hortons as he passed by and I made an "are you kidding me?" face to which he rolled his "I know, I know.." eyes.

I think it's great that I didn't even have to say I wanted hot chocolate nor that I wanted it to be diluted slightly.  The cup did not land very softly on the counter beside me.  I continued to fail at stifling my smug grin.  The debit transaction seemed to take forever as my tongue was just BEGGING to begin speaking friendly rudeness.  "Stop smiling," comes sternly from my right and I can't hold it together any more.

Finally the customer's transaction has been completed and I turn toward my prize.  He jumps right in: "There you go.  The first of many."  I don't even acknowledge the comment because the time to harp on how much money and time it will cost is coming later..probably two or three weeks later.  Now, the wound is still fresh so I must focus on his pride and game itself.

"THIS is going to be the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted..."  As I pull back the tab, the drink bubbles up too much and it's on my hands.  He says he hopes I spill it all over my hands opening it and all over myself drinking it.  (This I also ignore.)

Strangely, it actually was one of the better hot chocolates I've had in my life.  Last night, telling peeps watching the game about the bet, I garnered suggestions of how to make S____ pay more than he would if I only asked for the drink I really wanted.  Obviously I want the extra-large and if I can find something frothy that'll be great.  Like, five-dollars great. What I REALLY want to do, however, is pour the drink out, right in front of him, immediately after he hands it to me but I'm not near a sink.  I also want to order drinks for other people.  We'll see.  It's going to be great hahahaha.  I really don't think he was expecting to lose.

Some nice gentleman that I vaguely know came in this morning around 9 or 10am and he greets me with, "So I guess you're not a little teapot."  My face smiles and my eyes get bright.  I tell this man that our mutual acquaintance has not shown up yet (and I'm slightly annoyed) and he assures me that the acquaintance is just as disturbed by his loss as I could hope he was.  Says he is really not looking forward to doing a song and a dance.  I don't say that wasn't the bet because if S____ forgot, I will not correct him.

Victory, you taste so sweet.  And chocolatey!