So whenever I visit the Texans, Dylan and I like to play "You Don't Know Jack"--a game (I'll go ahead and say it) I often win.
Boo-yah! IN YOUR FACE, KIDS. YOUR MOM JUST OWNED YOU. AGAIN.
The game gets violent sometimes, especially during round 3, otherwise known as "The Jack Attack." I frequently resort to kicking people in their thighs and so forth.
Anyway, Dylan (who is good at the game, it must be said, and sometimes beats me) beat me every time we played it And . . . I think that made us all a little said. It's like that episode when Frasier finally beats Marty in chess and then feels remorse for knocking the old mountain goat off the mountain. Or something like that.
Is this a corner one turns when one turns sixty?