I just got busted for $16 on one hand on a $1/$2 Party table. I was dealt Q10h in late position, and saw the flop with three others.

Flop comes 5/5/10. I'm wary of the three of a kind, but two pair will probably be good enough. Weak betting, one folds, it's down to three.

Turn shows another five. Assuming no pocket pairs higher than 10, I should have the best hand. I check-raise and am called by both.

River drops a Queen. I've gotta have the best hand. But I get raised after I bet out by the player on my right who has been pretty quietly calling everything to this point.

He can't have the quads, can he?

Again, broken by quads. That one hurt.

I ended my session a half dozen hands later. 90 minutes, up $1.50. I was up as much as $21 at any given point, and was never down more than $4, so I feel pretty good about things. It was a really tight table, and I'm lucky I hit the hands that I did.

By the way Iggy, if you haven't tagged "baileygates1" as a fish, please do so. I saw him run through $50, refill, another $50, and was down $18 on his latest refill, all in 90 minutes.

Last hand for the night was a disappointing one... I was in the big blind with a 5/4 suited. I call with four others. Flop hits 5/8/8. I check to the guy on my left who's been trying to steal all game long, he bets, one caller, I raise, the three of us call.

Another 5 hits on the turn. I'm holding a full house. I check, stealer bets, the other player raises, I re-raise, and it's re-raised until it's capped.

Blank hits on the river. I bet, I'm raised, I call.

What do you think the re-raiser was holding?

Bonus points if you guessed pocket 8s for the quads.

I went from $10 up to $8 down for the night on that hand alone. My eyes are fried, I've gotta get up from the computer.

I just got nailed on the same table something fierce. In early position I was dealt 54s. I called a raise pre-flop, and hit two pair on the flop. It was 5/4/Q. I called the raiser's flop bet, and then check raised on the turn. I was re-raised, but thinking AA or KK down, not QQ (who would be that lucky?). I capped the raise and saw the river, which was another blank. I bet into it, he called.

Sure enough, he had the set. Fucker. Lost probably $15 on that one.

Just took down a four way, heavily raised pot on a $1/$2 table at Party. I was dealt KK, no flushes, no straights possible, high card on the board was a Queen, although 88 paired on the turn and flop.

Man, it feels good to take a monster pot like that!

Recherche Google: people shagging aqualung

Fucking French. Apparently, some dude is looking for aqualung porn, and found me instead. Unbelievable...

Man Down

520AM this morning. I’m certainly not sleeping well. I woke up this morning thick with congestion. It’s the stuff that feels like it’s loose up there, but just won’t shake itself free, no matter how hard you’re trying. Add a sore throat (undoubtedly due to the congestion), and I fear the flu big time right now.

More than anything though, I just want to be able to sleep through the 6AM hour, just on weekends. That’s all I ask.

I really hope I’m not going to miss the poker game tomorrow night. DH is hosting, which better mean he’s playing. He’s the walking, talking definition of “dead money” for all players concerned. It must suck to host a poker party if you’re almost a guarantee to be one of the first few out.

I just had the receptionist here do the “mom trick” of putting her hand to my forehead to see if I am feverish. She said I felt a little warm. I feel a little warm.

If I were still in a commissioned sales job, I’d have stayed in bed this morning. I still probably wouldn’t have slept past 545AM, but I’d have stayed under the covers with the dog, that’s for sure.

Just another tidbit about poker last night… I was getting sign after sign after sign that I shouldn’t be online playing. First, after about eight hands on a $1/$2 table, and up $6, my Internet connection failed. It took me nearly 20 minutes to figure out my Ethernet cable had came loose from the cable modem. I logged back on and found that the $1/$2 line was almost fifteen long to get seated, but the $2/$4 line was only one person. I was immediately seated. After another eight hands, holding only $2 down, all of a sudden players started logging off the table right and left. I actually played this to my advantage, as it went from eight players to two almost instantly, and I was dealt face cards both times, raised the other player pre-flop, and picked up blinds once, and picked up one post-flop call off of my raise as on the other hand. I think that left me something like $8 up for the night, but I had to grab another table. I happened to get seated at a $2/$4 table where no more than two seemed to see flops, and rarely did a river card get turned. I think the average pot was something like $14, which is ugly on a $2/$4 table. I did win one hand, which bumped me to about $19 total winnings for the night. But I figured I had to find a looser table.

So, you can see, in about ninety minutes of playtime, I played at two levels and four tables, so karma wasn’t exactly on my side. No wonder I crashed and burned so hard on the loose table. I think I played pretty well. I just got slapped around on the turn and river a few times.

For example, and I alluded to this yesterday, I was holding 8/10 suited. Flop comes 7/9/J rainbow, which left me with the nuts. I check raised, and five stayed in. Turn shows an 8. Again, I raise a bettor and get four callers. Fucking river flops a 10. Now any asshole holding a Queen is going to take the pot down (not to mention KQ giving someone the nuts.

That basic scenario happened to me twice. What can you do when you have the nuts except raise, try to limit the field, and hope no one sticks around and hits their gut shot? The two hands I suffered this fate on were nearly identical; I played them nearly identically, and lost nearly identical amounts of money on them nearly fifteen minutes apart from one another.

Is there another way I should have played these hands? Would anyone else have stuck around through raises on the flop and turn with something like Q9 or KQ with NO flush potential?

At least I had the good sense not to go on the tilt due to these beats. Instead, I logged off $35 down for the night. Sometimes, you’re just not hitting your cards.

Ugh, it’s Noon, I feel like ass. I’m going home and going to sleep…

I made the mistake of hopping on Party Poker tonight...

I've flopped the nut straight twice, only to watch my hole cards hit, twice, on fourth street and the river.

Dealt AA in the big blind, the opener raises, I re-raise, three callers. This is on $2/$4, mind you. 5/6/7 rainbow flops. Check to me, I bet and there's calls. A Queen and a 10 hit on the board as well, all rainbow.

Fucker next to me stayed in for three PREFLOP bets with 6/7 OFFSUIT and flopped his two pair. Unreal.

I'm down $35 in about an hour's worth of play time. I'm watching miracle gut shots hit for people on the river and can't see my low gut shot I flopped stand up.

Fucking Party Poker. I'm down to $70 in my account off my original $100. Grrr...

Some more things…

Breakfast this morning is two Panera bagels. An Asiago Cheese and a Cinnamon Crunch. The lady behind the counter was reluctant to put them in the same bag for takeout. “They don’t mix well.” I’m guessing that doesn’t refer to general animosity behind the counter between the Asiago and Cinnamon camps. So, I’m wondering, does the bagel cohabitation make the Asiago taste too much like Cinnamon, or the Cinnamon taste too much like Asiago?

Of course, the joke’s on me this morning, as it happens to be “Bring an enormous and tasty looking coffee cake and/or cookies to share” day in the department. I’m halfway through the second bagel (Cinnamon) as I’m told to “Help yourself!” Bastards.

Here’s an admission that I’m not pleased to be making… “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and their life is better than yours. I can teach you, but I’d have to charge,” is an awfully catchy song, and actually kind of likeable. Not that I’m rushing out to buy the disc or burn it off LimeWire or anything. Thank god for XM Radio, as I can keep my high falutin’ music tastes satisfied here without breaking down and burning discs featuring songs like this and Lil’ Kim’s “Magic Stick.” Oh, and this isn’t the best thing Kelis has done. That would be her chorus on Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Baby I Got Your Money.” That song features a line that is probably one of my favorites from any song ever written: “I don’t have no problem with you fucking me, but I have a little problem with you not fucking me.” God bless ODB.

One more admission… I’ve been bored enough lately to draw naked ladies on my Palm Pilot. I have no artistic talent, though, so it’s just from the neck down, and no hands or feet. I haven’t mastered them yet. Naked ladies, hands, or feet. I haven’t mastered any of those.

I flipped over to some show on VH1 last night that was talking about “the year on the red carpet.” In other words, what was “hot” and “not” for 2003 for the stars. Now, I only landed here because I happened to catch Jessica Simpson wearing some shirt that showed about as much side-boob as you could conceivably get away with, but what irritated me was the following sentence, uttered by some VH1 fashion “guru:” “What was absolutely hot this year on the red carpet is pregnancy!” Uh huh. I’m sure that the “Hollywood mentality” this year was to get knocked up in order to do the “hot” thing on the red carpet. These entertainment shows really piss me off.

By the way, if I hear one more person use the word “fabulous” on one of these entertainment programs, I’m liable to snap.

After today’s (Thursday’s) workday, there’ll only be three more days until I get five in a row off for the holidays. And those three, of course, are interrupted by two days of weekend off time.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Except that I’ve found myself getting up earlier and earlier every morning. I’m popping out of bed around 515AM-530AM on a daily basis, which is really distressing, especially on the weekends. I don’t know if I could effectively get back to sleep, as I end up just talking myself into getting up anyway. I think maybe my body is craving coffee around this time of the morning. I know I’ve been drinking enough of it to have this happen.

Starbucks’ “Gold Coast” blend is really terrific.

I’m going to try to catch up on my sleep this weekend, as I don’t think I have anything to do. I know I’m done with my Xmas shopping, and I’m going to try not to gamble much this weekend beyond the (hopeful) usual poker game.

If I could wake up between 8AM and 9AM on weekends, I’d be a happy little bastard.

There are some fetishes I totally get, and some that I completely cannot understand at all.

For example, the Catholic Schoolgirl Uniform? Hot. Absolutely. I get that one. French Maid Outfit? Well, I understand the fishnets, and I understand the cleavage, but I don’t get the little paper tiara, and I don’t get the ruffled miniskirt thing either. What makes a French Maid so sexy?

I get women in leather, I am down with chicks soaping themselves up in a bath or shower, I know why the bondage thing (when done right) can be hot, and there’s no excuse for a guy who doesn’t like watching two or three women enjoy the company of each other. I can even understand why some guys chase nothing but women that are really heavy. Well, I can understand it, but just barely.

But there’s a lot of stuff I really am at a loss to understand.

FEET – Why feet? They don’t smell good, they aren’t usually well taken care of, and in my opinion they’re the most rightfully ignored part of a woman’s body. I completely don’t understand guys who like to suck toes or lick toe jam or get off on giving foot rubs. Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with giving a foot rub, but there is something wrong if giving a foot rub is the only way you’re getting off. This, of course, brings me to…

SHOES – Here’s what I do understand about this fetish. Women are curvy. Women’s shoes are curvy, or at least the fancy ones are. Shoes can be a nice, sexy accessory to a woman’s appearance. This is where I stop getting it. Smelling shoes? Really? Drinking out of shoes she was just wearing? No way. Hoarding and collecting them as trophies? I’m at a loss.

GETTING BEATEN DURING DOMINATION GAMES – It’s one thing to play along with a Dom/Sub type game. There’s really nothing too wrong with that. Where I grow puzzled is when grown adults choose to let someone beat the ever-living shit out of them as part of the game. Especially whipping. If a whip is harder than a semi-aggressive slap, you’re playing the game all wrong. The sub-category to this one is…

ASPHYXIATION – I don’t want to lump asphyxiation in with beatings, as you have to give equal time to the whole self-asphyxiation thing as well. Has pleasuring yourself really gotten that boring? Why bring near-death experiences into play? This makes no sense to me at all. Especially considering the consequences of screwing up. Mom comes home, finds you pants down in front of the computer with a Wonder Bread bag wrapped around your head, rubber bands securing it tightly around your neck, and a bottle of lotion all over the floor. I’m guessing that’s not a desirable outcome.

SCAT/WATERSPORTS – I snicker every time I hear a boat/Ski-doo shop use the phrase “Water Sports” in their advertising. What could possibly be sexy about urine and feces? Here’s the deal on this one in particular. Let’s say that Britney Spears picked me up in a bar. Yes, I’d like to pork Britney Spears. On the way out the door she says, “Look, I just want to warn you, I’m a little freaky in the bedroom, and the only way I sleep with you is if you go along with me and do it my way.” At this point, I’ve got to be curious, interested, and excited. If she wanted me to worship her feet, I could play along. If she wanted me to sniff her shoes, I could put on a good show. I’d take a whipping, even if it was a little much, and I’d play along, at least to a point, with asphyxiation games. As long as I was going to get mine. If she came out and said, “You’ve got to let me take a dump in your mouth,” smart money says I’m out of there. And frankly, I don’t care how hot the girl is, once I’ve peed on you for your pleasure? I think you’re probably not someone I should be sleeping with.

INFLATABLE DOLLS – I’d sooner cut a hole in a melon. It’d be cheaper and probably more realistic.

ANIMALS – This category would be inclusive of what I’ve heard called “Pony Play,” which is having one of the two dress up like a pony (with a tail that, uh, plugs in the back), all the way through women doing what they’re doing on some of those awful websites with horses and dogs and such. If you want to be an animal so bad, go live in the wild, eat what you kill with your bare hands, and don’t bother the rest of us with your sickness, all right?

WEIRD COSTUMES – I don’t have anything to even say about people who dress up as anatomically correct stuffed animals (thank you for that image HBO), or “wear” balloons as a fetish, or whatever. I can understand a little “good cop/bad cop,” or squeezing your wife into her high school cheerleader outfit again, but as reality starts walking out the door, I’m close behind. I’m not sleeping with a girl that wants me to spend $500 on an anatomically correct Frosty the Snowman costume. You can have her.

VAMPIRES – Again, reality left fifteen minutes ago people, and it’s wondering when you’re coming along. A Halloween game in bed is one thing, but there are people who actually take the drinking blood thing to some literal level. Now, if I got picked up in a bar by a girl that took me home and surprised me with some biting and such, I might think that it was pretty hot. Once. It’s those freaky weirdos that turn this into a lifestyle that I totally don’t understand.

Maybe I’m generally too whitebread, but thanks to HBO, I know all this stuff is out there, and I really don’t understand it at all.

I’ve effectively ruined instrumental music for myself.

I love my dog, there’s no secret there. The one thing that I do behind the privacy of closed doors that no one really knows about is that I sing to him. I can change any song out there to be about my dog and how he’s a good buddy.

One of my favorites (to the tune of Eminem’s “Kill You”)
“You don’t / Wanna fuck with Frye Dog / Cause Frye Dog / Will Fucking kill you.”

He loves that one a lot. I think it appeals to the killer instinct inside.

Of course, you can turn any song into the Frye Dog song. Here’s another (to the tune of “Jingle Bell Rock,” because I’m feeling seasonal):
“Frye the Dog, Frye the Dog, he’s Frye the Dog / He’s my bud-dy, and he’s my good dog.”

I could go on and on. Where I’m really retarded about the whole thing is if I’m not with my dog and I find myself singing along the Frye Dog lyrics in my head. Even the ESPN Sportscenter tag (Bah da da! Bah da da!) becomes, “Frye the Dog! Frye the Dog!”

Anyway, he seems to like it, so I don’t feel like a huge tool. Well, not THAT huge a tool. I’m going to be a huge dork when I have kids, this I can already tell.

I mentioned something yesterday about putting down “trivia knowledge” if I were to list my strengths. So, let’s make the list.

TOP TEN STRENGTHS OF MINE
(in no order)
1) Trivia knowledge – I’m a devastator at Trivial Pursuit
2) Good vocabulary and grammar – I try hard not to end sentences in prepositions, and feel I have an above average vocabulary
3) Cooking – I can’t remember the last time I made something that didn’t turn out in the kitchen. I’ve cooked Thanksgiving dinner on my own, and I’ve done a seven course Italian meal, all from scratch (including boiling bones for broth), where all the courses were timed to hit the table together (and I succeeded in that)
4) Typing – again, I’m probably an above average keyboardist. I would guess I’m probably in the 80 WPM range. I don’t really know for sure.
5) Dry humor – I’m funny sometimes. And it’s usually in the Dennis Miller style. By the way, I wouldn’t label myself as a “funny guy,” but my dry humor works when I unleash it, I suppose
6) Speed reading for comprehension – I do alright with flying through books and picking up what it was I just read
7) Finding something to watch on TV – When you combine my speed reading abilities with my preternatural ability to press buttons quickly on a remote (thank you Nintendo Corporation), I can fly through the program listings of digital cable and find something to watch within seconds
8) Internal clock – I have a really accurate internal clock. I wake up around the same time every morning. I know, in my head, when to flip back if I turned away from a commercial break on TV. I can often set a timer in the kitchen and walk back in with under ten seconds to go. I’m good like that
9) Punctuality – It’s fundamentally disrespectful to be late. Valuing someone else’s time is important, and I’m usually early everywhere I go, but I’m at least punctual
10) Computing math in my head – It’s nice to be able to at least ballpark 362 times 44 in my head (about 15,900, but I could get it to the number if I put some thought into it) if I need to, and it’s good to be able to total up a half a cart worth of groceries before I hit the checkup (to within a couple bucks, that is). I do owe my dad big on this one. It’s his influence that helped me here

TEN WEAKNESSES OF MINE
(again, in no order)

1) My hair – I’ve got terrible hair. It’s thin (not thinning, at least not yet) and has two colics (how do you spell that? Not “cowlick,” I hope) right up front that make my “bangs,” whatever those are, stand up nearly straight. I hate my hair, and that’s why I shaved my head for nearly eight years straight
2) Fashion sense – I’m not a real heavy guy, but I am about 20 lbs overweight (205 on a 5’10” frame). Unfortunately, I wear clothes that make me look about 40 lbs overweight. It’s amusing that every time I wear a shirt tucked in, friends ask if I’ve lost weight. No, I’m just not wearing baggy jeans and a 2XL football jersey today, thanks
3) Ability to pick women – Apparently, this would be my kryptonite
4) Patience (except for poker) - I’m generally a horribly impatient person. In fact, if you take my food aversions out of the conversation, the vast bulk of my pet peeves would probably boil down to my lack of patience. For example, I will yell at drivers who slow down before merging into a long and empty dedicated left turn lane. They give these assholes 80 yards to come to a stop, why do they have to slow me down first? You get the idea
5) Ability to socialize in large groups – I can actually be engaging, and perhaps even charming in small groups or one-on-one situations. Put me in a crowded party though? I get a little phobic about situations like that. I’m not great at meeting new people cold, and I know I’m a little peculiar on first impression as a result, so I don’t really do well in those circumstances
6) Hearing – I don’t think I’m going deaf or anything, but if there’s a lot of background noise mixed in, I really have to watch lips move to make sure I understand what someone’s trying to tell me. I also can’t concentrate on listening to someone over the phone if there’s a TV on or conversation going near me
7) My apparent aloofness – This one is where my personality gets me into trouble. Combine my inability to socialize in groups properly with my dry humor and large vocabulary, and people sometimes get a first impression of me that isn’t really fair. I come across as distant and aloof sometimes, and that’s more due to being uncomfortable with myself in those circumstances than it is to being uncomfortable with the other people around me
8) My feet – This sounds stupid, but my feet (aside from my hair) would be the part of my body with which I feel the most dissatisfaction. They’re hairy, have weird (but non-cancerous) freckling, and were ravaged by plantar fasciitis last year. As a result, I have to wear insoles, even in my bedroom slippers. The insoles in my shoes are prescription, custom made, and made of ¼” thick plastic. I really don’t like my feet. At least they don’t stink
9) Inability to keep my mouth shut – I don’t know if I get into trouble because I’m not thinking before I speak, or because I’m thinking as I’m speaking and can’t shut it off, but I put my foot in my mouth a lot. An awful, awful lot. Not to mention that I often will use fifty words when three will do. My ex-wife used to tell me that I’d close all the loopholes before I’d get to the point. That’s a pretty accurate observation, I think
10) Inability to read signals from women – That’s pretty self-explanatory. A woman would need to be naked in front of me with a notarized contract authorizing me to violate her three days from Sunday in order for me to get the hint that it’s time to move in and sleep with her. I’ve always been really bad at reading women

Not quite 130PM today, and I’m already six MS Word pages into blogging. I must be a little short on things to do today.

I want to talk Lions football for a bit, so humor me and/or skip down past this post, as I’m going to ramble a little, or maybe a lot here.

2003 Report Card
I’m not sure it’s fair to pass judgment on many of the Lions players this season. With a league-high fourteen players on injured reserve, a new coach at the helm, and a lack of overall talent on this team, there are a number of players that didn’t have a chance from Week One.

There are a few guys, particularly on the defensive side of the ball, that really proved they can be the building blocks for the immediate future of this team.

Dre Bly, our free agent acquisition at cornerback, has earned every dollar this Lions team (supposedly) overpaid him. He’s got no support from other corners or safeties and can’t depend on the young outside linebackers to be in the right spots at all times either. As a result, he’s been our guy matched up against the opposition’s best wideout, and has generated badly needed turnovers, scores, and sparks to motivate the team and the fans at every critical juncture this season. Hopefully, the Lions can surround him with good talent in the backfield this offseason.

My guy Shaun Rogers has been an absolute force up the middle this season as well. After a lackluster 2002 campaign, Rogers dropped some weight, and was paired up front with surprising Dan Wilkinson to form what is quite possibly the most dangerous DT combo in the league. Wilkinson and Rogers cannot be moved by only three blockers in the interior, and are regularly commanding enough attention to allow pass rushers to come in from the DE and LB spots. Although both deserve Pro Bowl consideration, it will be surprising if it happens.

After a rough first couple of games where his mistakes were apparent to anyone watching the telecast, Boss Bailey has shown flashes of tremendous talent from the OLB position. The knock on Bailey in the draft was his poor tackling, but that hasn’t been a liability through the latter half of the season. With a defense that misses too many first opportunities at a tackle, it’s helpful to have a speedy linebacker like Bailey to cover up the mess.

On offense, the tackles Jeff Backus and Stockar McDougle are maturing into skilled technicians for pass protection. While neither is close to a Pro Bowl level, mainly due to poor run blocking schemes and support, they’ve ably protected Joey Harrington all year, and will hopefully only get better.

Unfortunately, that’s as far as I’d extend good grades with this team this year. Here’s a list, not complete, of who I’d be passing, who I’d be failing, and who gets an “incomplete.”

Passing
Shawn Bryson – wouldn’t get 10 carries a game anywhere else in the league
Cory Schlesinger – sadly overused in the offense
Brian Walker – adequate defender, wouldn’t start on most teams
Barrett Green – will get a contract extension he doesn’t deserve
James Hall – shouldn’t be starting, but has been somewhat productive
Earl Holmes – terrible stopgap solution at MLB, but isn’t making mistakes
Terrence Holt – limited playing time, but hasn’t made mistakes
Otis Smith – for a last minute veteran free agent pickup, has been adequate
Reggie Swinton – one thing he can do is return kicks, shouldn’t be a WR
Eddie Drummond – could be a Pro Bowl returner in a couple years
Jason Hanson – can’t find anything bad to say about the guy

Failing
Robert Porcher – washed up, hope he retires rather than leaves, great ambassador
Luther Elliss – has he come back from his injury yet? Ineffective
All Guards/Center – can’t pull, can’t drive block, Raiola regressing fast
Casey Fitzsimmons – makes an athletic play, drops two balls
Mikhael Ricks – didn’t he make plays at one point?
Olandis Gary – ran like a ham sandwich
Avon Cobourne – shouldn’t still be on the roster
Wali Rainer – how can a former starting MLB not crack this lineup?
Bill Schroeder – there has never been a worse starting receiver in this league than 2003’s Bill Schroeder
Az Hakim – has obviously lost about a step and a half, not skilled enough to compensate
Shawn Jefferson – well, he is nearly 40 years old
Kalimba Edwards – tell you what K, you tell me when your hernia doesn’t hurt anymore
Corey Harris – horrible
Bracey Walker – shouldn’t be on an NFL roster
David Kircus – will the Kircus chorus please shut up now?

Incomplete
Joey Harrington – can’t expect him to generate consistency or chemistry with WR revolving door
James Davis – could be a playmaking LB, we’ll know next year
Charles Rogers – needs a counterpart across the field, will excel beating zones/singles
Artose Pinner – tough to tackle, could be good
Nick Harris – yes, I’m grading the punter. Jett is gone

My off-season wish list

PLEASE RETIRE/LEAVE: Porcher, Elliss, Schroeder, Ricks, Gary, both Walkers, Harris, Ray Brown, Jett, old CBs, Jefferson, Cobourne, Kircus, James Stewart

POSITIONS OF STRENGTH: OLB, MLB, CB (assuming Cash/Goodman are returning healthy), OT, QB, DT, FB, C

POSITIONS OF NEED: DE, WR, RB, TE, OG, FS

DRAFT: Key on getting either a top RB, or if there’s confidence Pinner can be that guy, either a TE or WR for Joey to throw to (and to take pressure off Rogers). Augment the OL and S positions in the early rounds too, and on day two get guys at G, DE, and WR that can step in and contribute

FREE AGENCY: Add one semi-marquee name. Something like the Bly signing last year. Pursue Champ Bailey or Julian Petersen hard if they’re available. Don’t sign a FA WR, that group isn’t very inviting this off-season.

And for god’s sake, get back to .500. There’s no excuse to be under .500 in the NFC North. Have some respect for yourselves, really.

Just some things…

I used to know a woman that claims to be the girlfriend of aging rocker Eric Burdon (of the Animals and War). You know, if you called Central Casting and asked them to find you the perfect 45+ year old skank that would likely be dating a washed up rock and roll star, you couldn’t have done a better job, down to the Samantha Fox circa 1984 hairstyle and the weather-beaten look that only comes with a pack of cigs a day for nearly thirty years.

Not that this has anything to do with Eric Burdon or skanks, but the very first time and the very last time I’ve gotten laid was in the exact same place. I don’t know what that means, but I’m working on it.

Oh, and by the way? I’d still bang Fran Drescher.

We landed about three inches of snow last night. I watched local news this morning, looking at the ticker in vain to see if my work would show up along side the half dozen schools that were canceled due to the inclement weather. No dice. I think I’ve probably ranted before on the quality, or rather, lack thereof of our local news here in West Michigan. At least in Metro Detroit we had good-looking people (mmm… Lucy Noland…) and high production values. The morning news on the local NBC affiliate here in town features a wooden anchorman and a harpy who does the weather. The anchorman’s painful attempts at small talk (er, lively banter) with the weather harpy are the only things that make watching this local coverage palatable.

So what’s the difference between our local news coverage on TV and in the newspapers? Not much, except that in the paper you can see who’s turning 100 at the rest home (and is probably still driving her 89 Buick around town), and who’s writing angry, bible-quoting letters to the editor intended to put a stop to everything from gay marriage to skateboarding teens.

Just to add to that tangent above: Is there anything that people under 50 can agree on more than testing the eyesight, reaction time, and overall health for potential drivers over 65 years old? How many more “I thought the gas pedal was the brake” excuses are we younger Americans going to put up with? I really enjoy when they crash through the picture windows of storefronts. Nothing beats a 94 Oldsmobile sedan hanging ass out of a Dress Barn store in the local paper. “Rambling and incoherent, Mrs. Delores Van Nostrand, 88, of 1100 Shady Acres Drive, explained the incident occurred due to confusion between the gas and brake pedals.” And I’m sure that she’ll be back on the road as soon as they pluck all the discount velour out of the grill of the car.

If I made a list of my strengths, somewhere near the top of that list I’d have to acknowledge that I am actually quite talented as far as trivia games are concerned. We’re talking Round 1 Jeopardy, not Double Jeopardy. I’ve got a lot of useless crap floating around my head that I can’t explain, such as:
- Who played Lucas McCade on “The Rifleman?”
- What Egyptian leader was killed in 1981?
- What’s the difference between broiling and braising?
You get the idea. I was out last night at a restaurant that featured the NTN trivia game up on the TV screens. I joined a game just after the first question (of fifteen), and posted a final score of 12,600 or so. Fourteen questions, only 1,400 points missed. It gave me a high enough score to place second for that restaurant for the entire month of December. Now, if I could only figure out a way to make money/gamble on trivia…

I’m really quite hungry this morning (845AM as I’m typing). It’s one of those days that I wish I could just scoot out the door for an hour and go have some flapjacks. I’m not a breakfast person normally, but flapjacks sound really good right now. Luckily, one of the vendors to the HR department in which I’m located picked this morning to suck up for the holidays, and dropped off fruit, veggies, and cookies. I’m all right with that. As of this writing, I have only had one of the seven or eight vendors I work with attempt any sort of holiday suck up to me. I got a nice sized can of mixed nuts. Mixed nuts rule. I’ll even eat the filberts. I’m not choosy. If I’m picking through the can, though, it’s for the almonds. The best vendor holiday suck up gift I’ve ever gotten was a huge tray of baklava dropped off for my department when I worked for the bank. Luckily, I worked with all women, and all the women were watching their weight, so I was able to take the whole tray home. It was fannnnnn-tastic.

This morning at work I spotted a fruit fly circling my desk. The one thing about having a desk with live plants all around the upper perimeter of my cube is that the fruit flies tend to come out and “bug” me (Ha. Ha. Ha.) a few times a month. What really bothers me, though, is that I can see one fruit fly at 9AM, kill it, but have uncontrollable itchiness (mainly on my head and in my nose and ears) as if I’m being continuously assaulted by swarms of them. I’ve been scratching ever since I saw him.

Oh, and by the way? Someone found my site from google using the following search term: "Shannen Doherty has peed her pants."

Excellent.

Looks like the numbers are almost there to coordinate a $10 NL Poker Bloggers tourney at Party Poker. According to latest estimates, we’re looking at about eight or nine as of this morning.

If I were handicapping my chances here, I’d certainly guess that I’ll be in the bottom quarter or third of this group as far as skills and experience are concerned. I’d put my chances of winning the table at about 40-1, and I’d put them even higher if I didn’t think that playing heads-up was a strength of mine. But, of course, you have to get to the final two to play heads-up, so that’s where my roadblock will arise I’m sure.

I think another ace I hold going up against more experienced players is that I’m not afraid to lose. I won’t be bullied out of pots if I feel I belong, and I don’t intimidate very easily at all. Technique may not yet be my best asset, but I feel that I play a solid instinctual game. Unfortunately, technique will beat instinct more often than not (unless you’re Nicole Robinson playing Celebrity Poker – did she make a wrong move all show long? Talk about everything falling your way…), but I feel good that I can acquit myself nicely, and maybe play spoiler somewhere along the way.

I hope.

There is a prospect of a thrilling time ahead for you.
Lucky Numbers 13, 27, 31, 34, 43, 45

Cracking the cookie is sometimes just as good as throwing coins in the fountain.

I keep the fortunes sometimes. Well, I’ve kept one fortune anyway. “There is a prospect of a thrilling time ahead for you.” I hold on to this fortune in the hope that I can cash it in like a gift certificate. Soon.

I’ve grown really good at being alone. In the two years since I had to leave my other life behind, I’ve actually grown pretty content with, well, nothing.

I have everything I need. My family, my dog, a place to vent (you’re looking at it), a hobby or two, a lack of tangible stress, a few bucks in my pocket.

This life I lead? It’s easy. It’s easy because it’s consistent. No single day too far outside the parameters set by the day before, and the day before that. I know tomorrow. It’s not that much different from today. I’ve been there already.

Maybe after dealing with the life I left two years ago, I don’t want to be surprised today or tomorrow.

Maybe it’s that I just don’t want to be disappointed anymore either.

It’s just easier to count on tomorrow when there’s really nothing new to see, nothing new to accomplish, no one new to disappoint me.

Well, it has been easier. Until the cookie.

It’s funny how seemingly insignificant things can spur big thoughts. A song on the radio bringing you back to your seventh grade girlfriend, the way a Mountain Dew tastes reminding you of college, catching a movie on TV and thinking of you and your best friends sitting around bashing it in eleventh grade “Mystery Science Theatre” style.

The cookie’s prognostication reminded me just how less-than-thrilling my life had become. Winning $50 at poker or $30 on an exacta at the track could often be chalked up as the top highlights of my week.

I’ve got to get more “thrill” back in my life. Something to feel, something to think about, something to worry about.

Something to help make the cookie come true.

I found my hats online the other day on sale. I was really excited, as it could be said I collect the Blue Marlin baseball caps, at least to some extent.

I have:

NY Cubans (black with burgundy NY in NY Mets style)
NY Black Yankees (both the blue with the white block NY, and the black with the white block NY)
Confederate Yankees (blue with a white CY)
Detroit Stars (blue with a red star with a white D inside)
Catholic Shamrocks (my favorite – green with a three leaf shamrock on front)

I’m getting:
St. John’s Marathons (same green with a white four leaf clover with a 19 inside)
San Francisco Seals (blue with white SF)

What’s great about these hats is that when they fit, they fit me really well. But it’s a total crapshoot as to whether they’ll fit perfectly or not. I’ve been lucky, as I’ve got three of the six I mentioned broken in just how I like them. I’ll wear the other three, just infrequently. I can’t wait to get the new green one, as my old green one is getting beaten up pretty good.

I got a really good deal on them as well. The Marathons hat is out of production, so finding it was difficult. Once I found it, the price was $35 with $15 S/H. I’m not about to drop $50 on a hat, so I was patient. I found it this weekend for $22, and they shipped two hats for $7. Grand total? $52 with tax. I’ll pay that for two hats.

Of course, I caught crap about buying myself stuff so close to Xmas. That being said, no one was going to come up with this as a present for me. Not only that, if I did get another Marathons or Shamrocks hat, I’d keep it and be thrilled to have a backup.

I’m guessing I’m horribly difficult to buy for during the holidays.

A.S.S.H.O.L.E.

I feel like an asshole today. I’ve been worked awfully hard this morning, which actually is a good thing. It’s nice to be busy and have your morning zip by. However, it’s been more like putting out fires than actually assisting people, or at least that’s how it’s felt. Sometimes, my role is no better than that of the guy you call when you think you broke your computer. That’s what this morning has been all about. So, I’ve been on the phone constantly, and have a little cauliflower ear thing going on as a result. When noon hit, I was eager to get out the door to lunch.

Now, there’s someone I pass on the way in and out the door that happens to be in a wheelchair. And the choices are to either small talk while walking out, or remain silent and appear surly. So, I small talk.

Out of my mouth, before I even thought about it, “Man, I’ve been anchored to my desk all morning! I’m glad to get the chance to get up and get out! My back hurts from sitting there all morning!”

Ouch.

I don’t think it’s as if I’m rubbing in the fact that I can choose to get up and walk one off, whereas he can’t. But, people can be sensitive, and this could be one of those cases. I’m betting it’s not, but I still feel like an asshole for saying anything at all.

I was emailed yesterday by a friend asking for a piece of advice on dealing with an at-work dynamic that was growing more difficult by the day. This friend’s problem was with a Production Shift Supervisor in a manufacturing environment.

Ah, Production Shift Supervisors… Where you’re too talented to work a 50-ton press or assemble the product, but you’re not talented enough to design the product or fix the machine.

Reminds me of a little story about some time I spent in a manufacturing environment…

Summers and winters through much of my college career had me returning home to work in the auto parts manufacturing (Michigan, naturally) company of a friend of the family. My very first summer onsite with this company had me on second shift, working in the Punch Press Room. I was seated in front of a 30 or 50-ton punch press, given bins of parts to press, tethered by a set of cords and pulleys to the machine (for my safety), and given the most brain-numbing work I’ve ever been forced to do (load part, press pedal, eject part, repeat for eight hours).

That’s why, when opportunities arose to do something different, I’d jump at the chance. The best “something different” the shop had to offer was driving the hi-lo. Whether going to dump scrap or moving nearly immobile bins of parts from heat treat to inspection, any time a hi-lo task came my way, I was excited.

Now, the Production Shift Supervisor on seconds was this little man named Wayne. Or rather, this little fat fucker named Wayne. Wayne was a grizzled veteran of the shop, who probably harbored great resentment watching others pass him by for better positions, better shifts, and better pay over the years. He was probably 5’5”, somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 lbs, and chain-smoked Swisher Sweet cigarillos (the ones with the plastic tips for your lips) all night long. When he came waddling out of his little office area, you knew you were going to catch some crap, as little Wayne didn’t like to have to get off his big old ass for any reason whatsoever.

So, sometime in the second month I was on the floor for this company, I got a chance to move two huge bins of clutch plates (or something like that) from stamping to shot peen. The bins were each about five feet wide, three feet deep, and close to five feet tall. They were to be stacked one atop the other on my skids.

I loaded them up, moved them to the very back of my skids, tilted the skids back a bit so the bins couldn’t fall backwards any farther, and proceeded to navigate my way back to shot peen.

It bears mentioning that there was about six inches of each skid poking out in front of these bins. As tall as the bins were on my skids, I could generally see around the front of my hi-lo, but couldn’t see the absolute front of the skids.

I was directed to place the bins back in a tight spot in the shot peen area. That was going to require a deft 90-degree turn, which I was only marginally sure I had room to make. The guy from shot peen pointed at the drop off area, turned his back, and started walking away.

I cranked the wheel hard left and proceeded slowly into my turn. Thud! It felt like I got stuck just a bit. Maybe my tire hit a side rail of the area or something. I put the hi-lo in reverse, moved back a touch, and went back into the turn. Thud!

Even with earplugs in, I’m hearing the shot peen guy screaming, “Hey! Hey!” from somewhere behind me. “Stop! Don’t move!” At this point he’s running the other way, looking over his shoulder as he goes towards the office, and sadly, to go get Wayne.

I’m confused. I can’t see what’s around front at all, and I’m wondering why I had to stop.

I’m looking behind me and that fat little bastard is chugging his way down the floor with a Swisher hanging out of his mouth. He stops dead in his tracks and goes completely flush with astonishment and anger.

“Get off that goddamn hi-lo right now! And watch where you’re stepping!”

I look down and notice a slight puddling starting to grow under the wheels of the hi-lo. I jump down and maneuver around the puddle for a look.

I had punctured, not once but twice, a 50-gallon drum of cleaning and deburring compound. Acid. Flammable acid. Two six-by-two inch gashes right near the bottom of the barrel gushing acid all over shot peen.

A part of me knows that Wayne isn’t letting that Swisher go until it’s done, and the longer I’m standing near flammable acid, the safer I am from the wrath I’m due. But, it is acid, and I am sadly not made of durable titanium, so I quickly make my way over to Wayne and the shot peen guy who are staring at me, then the mess, back to me, and helplessly towards the acid spill they aren’t remotely prepared to handle on their own.

Well, that little fucker took his time chewing me out. That is, after they emptied that half of the building out, after I got sent home unceremoniously, and after they paid a cleanup crew they called at nearly midnight on an emergency to come in and take care of the acid on the floor.

I’m lucky I got to keep that job. But I never did get to drive the hi-lo again.

I’m inching closer and closer to moving this page to my own domain, and getting myself lined up with my own web space. Thanks to Iggy’s advice, I came across three free years of web space, with POP email accounts and the whole nine yards. I figure I can get into my domain and web space for three years for under $40 out of pocket.

I think I’ve settled on a domain name as well. I’m not going to say right now what that decision is, because I am still tossing around the idea of going dot-com or dot-org. I think dot-org can be pretty cool at times, but dot-com is so nice and easy… I don’t really know what I want to do yet, but I hope by the end of the year to have this page fully migrated over, and I do also hope to be able to add things like pictures to augment my articles, rants, and stories.

Now, I just have to learn what the hell I’m doing with web design…

It’s taken every ounce of my strength these past few nights to NOT jump on Party Poker and try to increase my stack.

As it stands, I am still up, although it’s only marginally so over my original deposit. At its peak, my winnings were up around $112, but after a couple of hit-n-run sessions, I’m sitting at $5.25 in winnings, for a total bankroll of $105.25.

Hit-n-run sessions are the problem. I need to make sure I can comfortably sit there for three hours (really, two minimum) and play if I have to. Otherwise, I’m going to start getting antsy and play hands I know I shouldn’t.

It’s been rough lately for me to consider popping on, as I haven’t exactly been the poster child for patience, and I’ve also been relatively glued to my PC at work, so staring blankly at the PC is not my strong suit currently.

I’m always loath to lose my original stake too, so going below $100 is something that will really piss me off.

So it’ll be this weekend again before I can actually get back on and play, I’m sure. I’m probably going to step up off the $1/$2 to probably $2/$4 and see what I can do there. I can’t imagine the play is a lot different, and I think I’ll be more likely to play tight if it’s costing me $4 to see a river.

My goal is to double the stack, withdraw $100, and use that to get myself a room at the casino New Year’s Eve, where I can sit and grind at the $3/$6 table for hours through the turn of the new year.

BG’s Rules of Lazy Horse Handicapping

1. Bet on any horse that has your name in it, or the name of anyone you know.
2. When you see a real low odds horse (6/5 or worse) in a smallish field that will allow a trifecta bet, pick two to four horses for first and third place, throw the 6/5 horse in the middle (key around that horse).
3. If a morning line 4/1 or better (lower odds) horse is north of 8/1 with only a couple minutes to post, he deserves a bet.
4. Maiden races at low-level tracks are a crapshoot. Never ever play trifectas in a field of more than seven horses. Never bet on the prohibitive favorite. Use the morning line trick in this spot, but never pick a horse that has run ten plus races and never won. He likely never will.
5. Ride the coattails of a hot jockey. Especially in harness racing (driver). Never assume that because a horrible jockey got two wins in a row, it’s “his day” (the Glenmore Mayhew corollary).
6. Never bet a horse at a low-level track that is running his first race off a long (six months plus) layoff. Do bet him in his second race if he has dropped in class, was a performer at the higher class, ran a consistent race his last time out, and is getting regularly worked out.
7. Always bet the top jockey/driver if they’re on a mount that’s 5/1 or less. Again, especially in harness.
8. Never, ever, ever bet against Jerry Bailey.
9. Look at the speed figures in the program and pick the horse that has the best looking combination of speed and consistency (pick 64/62/61/63/66/70/62 over 68/66/44/58/60/56/77/57).
10. Never pick a sprinter to win a route race, except at maiden/2 YO stakes/2 YO allowance levels. If he’s been running 6 furlongs, what makes you think 9 furlongs is a good idea?
11. Again, ignoring young/maiden horses, if a horse is entered for the first time on grass and is running against grass winners, don’t bet on him.
12. If the horse looks like an anomaly in the race, he probably is. If it’s a low-level track, don’t bet that the trainer knows what they’re doing. If it’s a high-level track, check the trainer stats in the book for how well horses perform at this distance/surface/age/etc for this type of race for this trainer.
13. Look for closers from mid position. Especially in 6-8 furlong, nw2/6 type claiming races. If they can run from five or six back to within one or two lengths, that’s a nice trait to have at lower levels.
14. If you like a pacer/trotter out of the 4, 5, or 6 slot, make the bet. If you like a thoroughbred out of the 7 hole, make the bet.
15. If all else fails, bet on the grey horse. He’s easier to follow around the track.

Question:

Is Dennis Quaid a poor man’s Kurt Russell, or is Kurt Russell a poor man’s Dennis Quaid?

These are the things I think about. And frankly, I can’t decide. To that end, Kurt Russell = Dennis Quaid.

I had a dream on Saturday night that I was carrying my dog everywhere I went in a papoose backpack. I woke up to him sleeping right against my back, having effectively pinned me under the blankets.

I was thinking a little bit about that Top Ten Albums of 2003 list that I took to task yesterday. Now, I haven’t bought an album in over a year (last one, I think, was Mobb Deep’s “Infamy”), so I can’t exactly do a best of the year list. But were I making a Top Ten Albums I Own list, would I be looked at by others the same way I looked at that guy for putting classic jazz and haven’t-heard-of-them rockers on the list?

And, I think, the answer to that is “no,” because any top ten albums list of mine will include Raekwon’s “Only Built 4 Cuban Linx,” and how can you be high-falutin’ when you’re putting Raekwon on your list?

TOP TEN ALBUMS IN MY CD COLLECTION
(in no order)

1) Raekwon – “Only Built 4 Cuban Linx” – I firmly believe this album represents RZA at the height of his powers, and the chemistry between Ghost and Rae is undeniable.
2) Miles Davis – “Kind of Blue” – If there is a gripe at all with this album, it’s the inclusion of the song “Freddie Freeloader.” It is the only cut on which Bill Evans does not play. Wynton Kelly is great, and this song is terrific, but it kind of breaks up the album a little bit. This is a horrible nitpick on my part, but this album, aside from that flaw, is perfect.
3) Rolling Stones – “Exile On Main Street” – The perfect gettin’ drunk, shootin’ pool rock and roll album. This is easily the Stones’ best effort, in my opinion.
4) Moby Grape – Self titled debut album – I’ve talked about this one countless times before. It only clocks in at something like 32 minutes, has something like 11 songs, but there is not a note or a harmony that is out of place. An absolutely perfect album out of that San Francisco scene that produced Jefferson Airplane, the Dead, and Big Brother and the Holding Company. This album is better than anything any of those groups ever did.
5) Beatles – “Revolver” – It’s debatable as to whether or not this is truly the Beatles’ best album, but as far as I’m concerned no other effort comes close from beginning to end. Between this album and the “Golden Slumbers” to “The End” medley on “Abbey Road,” if anyone has any question that the Beatles are the pinnacle of what rock and roll ever has been and probably ever could be, they’re just kidding themselves.
6) Miles Davis – “In a Silent Way” – There’s no better jazz-fusion album out there. The attention to structure and detail alone separate this from most of the “aimless noodling” wankery that pervades some of the other fusion out there. It’s atmospheric but dense. It’s complex but simple. It’s easily digested but finely nuanced. And I love it.
7) John Coltrane – “My Favorite Things” – One thing I love about great jazz musicians of the 50s and 60s is their ability to take a corny show tune and transform it into something else, in this case, something meditative and ethereal. I don’t know how best to explain the feeling of listening to Coltrane play, except for maybe saying that he’s always reaching out looking to talk to god. If that sounds dumb, you haven’t heard Coltrane play.
8) Miles Davis – “Filles De Kilimanjaro” – This was the record that bridged his classic second Quintet (Carter, Hancock, Williams, Shorter) with the fusion era. An absolutely wonderfully listenable and approachable album, it’s not as obtuse as some of the Quintet’s deconstructionist work. Plus, giving Hancock a turn on the Hammond was a good move, and lent a bit of funk to the album as well. “Frelon Brun” is one of my favorite jazz cuts of all time.
9) Wu-Tang Clan – “Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers” – There’s never been a better posse album than this one. From the production to the different lyrical styles of the nine MCs, “Enter the Wu” could easily be filed into that “often imitated, never duplicated” category. It’s really a shame that the Wu’s follow-up albums were never as great as this one.
10) Eminem – “The Marshall Mathers LP” – Eminem is probably the only artist out there in music today that can blend style AND substance AND originality together, and appeal to many different listeners on many different levels. I love how special interest groups choose to hold Eminem’s lyrics up to prove points about gay rights or violence in the media. Irony and absurdity seem to be completely lost on these people. If you for one minute believe more than 50% of what is coming out of Em’s mouth, you’re already not getting the joke. And it’s a great joke.

Next week is our Fantasy Football league’s Championship game. And, barring an absolutely enormous game by Brian Westbrook tonight against the Dolphins, Bob will be competing for the title, as well as the $550 top prize (he’s already guaranteed $260 if he makes it in).

He’s had luck on his side all year long in our 14-team keeper league; especially considering this is his starting lineup:

QB – Peyton Manning
RB – LaDanian Tomlinson
RB – Shawn Bryson
WR – Derrick Mason
WR – Muhsin Muhammad
WR – Deion Branch
TE – Jeremy Shockey
D – Steelers

One side note… Bob missed the draft this year, and I was the guy responsible for putting this championship team together. To be fair, Bob did have LaDanian as a keeper, and was the guy who picked Manning in the first round, but the rest of this team was basically selected by yours truly.

Yours truly managed to finish something like 9th with his own team, but remember, I was tanking this year to have better keepers for 2004. Maybe Bob will give me a cut of his winnings for drafting so well. Fat ass chance.

Keep your eyes on this space for the Boy Genius 2003 End Of Year Spectacular!

While I can’t promise it will be spectacular, I can promise to deliver a “best of” column that will give my new readers a chance to catch up on some of the topics they may have missed, such as:

- Pleading for the safety of Ms. Marla Gibbs
- My date with a girl, her boyfriend, and two three year old kids
- Getting rivered by flushes from the same opponent in two consecutive hands on all-in bets holding top set on the flop
- Links to favorite Anna, Bob, and Mike posts.
- The 2003 BG’s Blog Awards
- And so much more!

Coming soon…

Here’s a list of the Lions’ blunders in the recent past, all of which can fall squarely on the shoulders of Matt Millen:

- Drafting Kalimba Edwards in the top of the second round in 2002 instead of badly needed RB Clinton Portis
- Signing Bill Schroeder to a deal
- Signing Az Hakim to a deal
- Bringing three safeties aboard (Harris, Walker, Walker) who cannot play
- Signing two middle linebackers that stink to multi-year deals (Rainer, Holmes)
- Trading a draft pick for an RB (Gary) that was going to get cut
- Unceremoniously cutting the 2001 offensive MVP (team MVP) Johnnie Morton
- Building ill will while cutting Herman Moore
- Not playing by the league’s minority hiring rules when bringing Mariucci aboard
- Calling a player a world class coward on a radio show
- Doing nothing to restore the team’s swagger

But what ostensibly is going to be the proverbial “straw that broke the camel’s back” will be the slur he tossed to Johnnie Morton as they passed in the hallways in Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium after the Chiefs dismantled the Lions on Sunday.

Apparently, Millen said, “Good game.” Johnnie replied, “Kiss my ass.” Millen finished it off with the regretful comeback of, “F#$%&t.” You know, the six-letter word I’m not typing in my computer here at work in case my keystrokes are somehow logged? The one that calls his sexuality into question? OK, we’re on the same page now.

To be fair, Millen apologized quickly and profusely. That being said, he’s long gone. And I don’t envy the next guy who has to walk through this door as GM. He’s got a couple years of rebuilding ahead of him, and it won’t be pleasant.

Blogcritics.org: Top Ten Albums of 2003

I found this website, blogcritics.org, and thought I'd check it out. Seems like a cool idea, getting bloggers together as critics of sorts.

I read this post and won't be back.

What is it about "indie" music fans that make them feel like so-called "popular" music is not worth their listening time? This isn't a top ten of 2003 list. It's a "top ten albums I'm going to try to impress you by telling you I've bought them" list.

And any top ten list of the year that doesn't have Speakerboxx/The Love Below on it is to be ignored, as it's from some poseur who doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Andre 3000 CAPABLY COVERED JOHN COLTRANE on his album. Coltrane!

CNN.com - U.S. believes Saddam captured - Dec. 14, 2003

There's a military dude on TV that said the raid was called "Operation Red Dawn."

WOLVERINE!!!!!!!

(edit) Immediately after writing that, the military dude said that a couple of their locations were code named "Wolverine1," and "Wolverine2."

Do you think they code named Saddam "Swayze?"