Hot Mess Plays Cards

playing cards

When I play cards, I always envision the World Whatever Poker Tournament in Vegas, on ESPN at 2 am. Players have sunglasses on and usually look like a cross between a gamer and a pedophile. How my husband watches this and finds it enjoyable is beyond me. I would rather watch someone mow grass…with a push mower.

Last night my children taught me how to play BS. I put 2 and 2 together to realize they were playing the game Bull Shit but thankfully the nanny edited the name just to BS. The only reason I know about Bull Shit is the scene in How To Loose A Guy In 10 Days where they played the game.

But first let’s back up to what and how we usually play.


Apparently there are multiple different ways to play poker. I thought poker was poker and if anyone asks me what type of poker I play I’m left dumbfounded responding with, “ummm…poker-poker.”

About a year ago I Googled POKER CHEAT SHEET and found an amazing one that I printed off and hung on my fridge. Anytime I’d play with my kids I’d grab my cheat sheet as I refuse to memorize anything and lay it next to me.

“Can we just grab our own cards? Like UNO?” I asked the rule Nazi, a.k.a my oldest.

“No! That’s not how it’s done. You’d be missing cards.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one knows how many of each kind there are,” I said with the same assurance I would say when announcing the benefits of Botox.

My son and husband looked at me as if I had just sharted in front of them. They began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You don’t know how many of each one there are in a deck?”

“Seriously, you don’t know that?” My husband chimed in.

“No, I don’t know how many stupid cards there are. I don’t play cards!”

“4 of each,” my husband responded, sensing my agitation.

As we begin to play, I look at my cards then consult my cheat sheet. I suck all coolness out of the game by doing this and I really don’t care. I could be at a Vegas poker table in a 1980’s cocktail dress, sitting next to the most interesting man in the world and have my poker cheat sheet sitting next to my martini.

Black Jack

I like this the least because when you are the dealer you have to do extra work and well….deal. As a player, you have to add numbers. Considering I tapped out in 2nd grade math, this is a recipe for a disaster. I detest when my 2 cards are 5 and 3 then an ace then I’m sitting there adding 5+3+1 but would I win if I do 5+3+11? Because I’m unable to think fast on my feet I deduce that I would bust with 5+3+11 (obviously I was wrong) and have a better shot with 5+3+1.

“Ok, lemme think.” I say as I pull out my fingers and began to count on them. I made my decision.

“Hit me!” I yell. My son slaps down another card. It’s an 8.

“Ok, lemme add this up. How many is this?” I realized I sounded like a 4-year-old as I still had my fingers out, using them as an abacus. My son giggled.

“I’m this many!” He mimicked, holding up 10 fingers like a child does when you ask them how old they are. This made me burst out in laughter because it was the truth, I sounded exactly like this.


So now we are back to BS or Bull Shit. If you haven’t played BS, allow me to demonstrate. BS is like playing the card version of Chutes and Ladders. You are in the home stretch of the game being over, only to land on tile 87 where apparently you stole a stupid cookie and have to go down the chute to tile 24. It’s a never-ending game where you get down to 2 cards, call BS and suddenly you now have 30 cards in your possession. I was so awful at this game that I grabbed my youngest’s card holder (great for little hands) and put my 30 some cards in it so my hand would stop cramping up. Another time I amassed 80% of the cards, I sarcastically split them up into 2 hands and held 2 hands of cards.

So there you go. If you play cards with me, you’ll probably win. Now if it’s UNO, I’m a total boss! God I’m such a nerd.


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