Why would she choose paper?

Tonight we sent off one of our ex-pat friends back to the States. Apparently, it was determined that the best way to do this was to go to the local American bar and sing karaoke. Genau.

The good thing about this bar is that this is where I will come to watch the American sports. NFL, NCAA, MLB, they'll show it all. Which game, however, is not up to me. Hey, at this point I'm not picky.

So, after a few hours at the bar, drinking Lichen bier, we head home. Barley (meine hund) has been confided to his Haus since about 6PM, and needs to hit the poopin' grounds before we hit the hay. That's poopin', not puppen, which is the German word for doll. I mean, really, that's pretty much what guys think of them anyway, puppen.

On the way up, I tell the Fassmeister that we need to decide who is going to take das Hund out. My best suggestion: paper-rock-scissors, best two out of three.

First round in the elevator... I get slaughtered. I go with paper, she takes the scissors. Unfortunate. Genau. There's a little nervousness in me, as we take the second round after egressing the elevator... she takes rock and I'm paper again. Winner winner Wiesel dinner.

Now it gets hard. What will she do, take the rock again, trying to throw me off? Or, go back to the scissors, getting back to the winnng game?

One... two... three... shoot! paper-paper

My third paper in a row. Oh, now it gets interesting.

One... two... three... shoot! paper-rock

What the &^*%? Why the heck would she choose paper? Seriously?

Without elaborating, Barley was gentle on me. Now would be the time for a good grilled cheese.