Pumba is a good man. He goes to church. He usually losses out on a girl because he’s that nice guy. And when he gets charged one less beer at the bar, he’ll alert the waitress. I love the man. But I’m taking the next eight hours to figure out if I’m staying on the Pumba’s Picks rollercoaster. Because to be honest it’s one bumpy fukn rollercoaster. A few days ago I decided to play with some over/unders. I believe I finished Tuesday 11-3. I was pleased. But then Thursday morning rolled around and I put all my eggs in Pumba’s basket and I think instead of producing me anything he just ate them.
I’m just happy I made it back to even today. I don’t believe someone can be a professional sports gambler. I think people that put money on sports are like magicians. They hide their bad moves to highlight their big tricks or wins. I want to win money and even though Pumba has the gambling experience over me, I really feel that I can make myself some cash this March. But Pumba is our guy. We pray with Pumba and we go to bed mad with Pumba. The Bottled Sports gambling crew can’t be split in half. We are either with Pumba or we are all with someone else. And I’m gonna spend the next eight hours figuring out if I’m that other person all you Bottled Sports fans should follow for gambling advice. But when I wake up later this morning don’t be surprised if I’m ultimately back on the Pumba Picks rollercoaster because he’s our guy. When you lose/don’t make money you wanna blame Pumba, like I want to right now but when Pumba win’s we win and then we thank him. I’ll admit he’s in a tough spot. People hate him today but might love him tomorrow when he goes 16-0 on the over/unders. Eight hours. #WithPumba or #NewBettorInTown That will be decided in the next eight hours.