|random thoughts and thoroughbred selections|
|"All life is 6-5 against" - Damon Runyon|
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Saturday Morning Update
I just found out that Kenny G has covered Outkast's "The Way You Move" on his new album.
Fuck him up his stupid ass.
That is all.
Friday, April 15, 2005
I had a dream last night that CBS and Fox switched their conference alignments for NFL coverage, dooming me to the awful CBS coverage for my beloved Lions.
Don't be afraid... bad dreams are only dreams... What a time you chose to be born...
I managed to extricate myself from the April 14th ButterPants fiasco none the worse for the wear, thankyouverymuch. And today I'm spending avoiding local news coverage, rife with poorly coiffed talking heads breathlessly monitoring the status of lines at whatever post office is enabling procrastinators this year with their midnight hours.
How about this? Do your taxes sometime in the roughly 90 days between when you get your W2 and April 15th. Assholes.
Maybe I'm just bitter because I didn't lose quite enough money playing poker online over the course of 2004. Another couple grand and I could have called it a deduction. Instead, it's big enough to hurt, small enough to not qualify for a government rebate.
So I had one of those SNG experiences about which we all dream on Wednesday night. Inside of the first two orbits I landed big slick suited. I turn two pair, with a Jack on the board too, and figure I'm probably good here and push. I get called by AQ (one pair), who promptly rivers a Ten to hit his four-outer.
To his credit, he says "sorry."
I am left with 100 chips and an approaching set of blinds.
Luckily, through some jackass' moronic play (strategy used: "I bet I can river my Ace to make a pair") I doubled up, and doubled up again off of him.
Soon, I was back above the starting stack and could afford to be patient again.
The field whittled away to five, then four including myself and the guy who had sucked out on me earlier. He was getting aggressive with blind steals (he was the button to my BB) and I started pushing back.
Our first confrontation was my KQs versus his Ace nothing off. I re-raised his min-steal all-in (and am done hyphenating), and he called. I made my two pair. I doubled up. He griped.
Then we got heads up. Very first hand? I find KQo, he raises all-in from the small blind, and I push as well.
Yes, he's telegraphing "pair" or "big Ace" and I shouldn't have.
But I chop him off at the fucking kneecaps with two pair. Again.
"That's twice," he whines. "Yours was a four-outer," I remind him. "I was in the lead from the flop both times," I add, conveniently leaving out the fact that he was ahead both times I pushed.
Three more hands and it was all over. Coming back from almost nothing to take out my nemesis, and I'm fifty dollars richer.
Well, $39 richer, but who's counting?
Between that SNG and the freeroll fifth place finish I figure that I'm the best poker player on PartyPoker right now. I mean, who's more consistent than me at this point?
Don't answer that.
Interestingly enough, April 15th has a little historical significance. Eight years ago to this date I met my ex-wife. These were the days, of course, where she was a gorgeous, curvy, alabaster princess (with big tits). It only took four years for her to go from that to sullen fat-ass liar, but I guess we're nothing as human beings if we're not evolving.
More later, man I've been useless today...
Thursday, April 14, 2005
World's Greatest Grandma
This is the most appalling news to come out of my town since...
...well, since last week when an honor student at the high school made the Police Blotter section of the paper for attempting to steal chicken nuggets and resisting arrest.
Anyway, I live in one of those towns where the elderly run (or, rather, walk gingerly) amok in the streets like they own the place. They all have enormous Buicks, they all drive ten or more miles per hour under the speed limit, and they all take fourteen items through the express lane and pay with a check.
So now the city's elderly are going to be allowed to volunteer to "enforc(e) minor law violations?"
I have an open message to the Grand Haven Department of Public safety - "Eff you." Seriously. Do you know what you're getting this town into? "Volunteers must be... available eight hours a week," says the article. I guarantee you that you've just given carte blanche for this town's senior population to mobilize and start a fourth reich of selective enforcement that will terrorize this small town's younger people for everything from speeding to spitting on the sidewalk. Do you think maybe you can find, oh, about a thousand senior citizens in this town with a grudge against young people and our poodle skirts and that Frankie Avalon with eight hours a week to spare?
What hath god wrought indeed.
If I find myself pursued this summer by a liver spotted do-gooder in a souped up Rascal with a siren, I'm going to do the only logical thing - I'm going to kick that fucker square in the hip, shattering it to pieces and knocking him right off his scooter. He'll have fallen, and he won't be able to get up. Then, I'll just play the Alzheimer's card in court, challenging him to remember pi to nine digits or to name all three Stooges, and when he hems and haws I'll have my OJ verdict and we'll be able to run these crooked bastards out of town once and for all.
And by "run," I mean "gingerly walk."
Burning a Hole
I'd like to apologize for Tuesday's post entitled "Sweetly Retarded," but refuse to do so until Bob apologizes for making fun of those of us - I mean in the royal "us" sense - with micropenis.
All I took from that article was that for about a thousand Euros and the indignity of having a tiny little penis attached to your forearm for a little while, you too can have a unit to make any porn star jealous. How soon until I start seeing this spam?
By the way, as a child of the early 80s, whenever I hear the word "micro" attached as a prefix to just about anything, I think of those little MicroMachines that were like Matchbox cars for those of us who were beyond the days of swallowing things we found on the floor. And when I think of MicroMachines, I think of John Moschitta, but there was no good way to work his name into this post without coming off like an esoteric jagoff (other than this way, that is), so I leave it right here and move on.
And yes, I knew his name without having to look it up. These are the things you know when your most constructive relationship in your nearly thirty one years on this planet happens to be with your television.
Speaking of, while Hollywood has resurrected old TV shows for big screen treatments, they really have ignored taking some classic small screen sagas and giving them another try with today's audiences. For example, The Rockford Files would absolutely work if Hollywood stuck with the formula Cannell thought up and didn't gloss it over to make it cool. The premise: Two bit private eye with unfabulous friends always gets caught in the middle of something that threatens to be over his head but works out okay in the end.
Knowing Hollywood, they'd turn it into a hipster drama with a prettyboy hero and his model girlfriend crashing Hollywood parties and helping the rich and famous avoid blackmail scams and such. He'd drive a Bentley, wear Prada, and solve crime with the aide of his Blackberry and iMac while sipping lattes.
So as of yet I have only dented the winnings from my awesomely impressive final table appearance on Sunday. I cashed out $250 immediately, and left the other $100 in there - probably to play in the Blogger WSOP Satellite(s) over at PokerStars. I did place an ebay bid for a pair of shoes I liked, but between that and some pants and shorts ($40) from the Gap Outlet, nothing big yet.
Well, I did actually wander in to a shoe store yesterday at lunch, and walked out with a kit to clean my suede shoes. Who knew that rubbing a rock on your shoes could return them to their original color? $6 to turn my dirty brown shoes back to their original stated box color of "beeswax," whatever that means. Money well spent.
Actually, I got a funny look from the lady when she sold me the kit. Inside was a rectangular rock and a brush. I asked if there were instructions in the package, and she gave me the "there's a rock and a brush dumbass, figure it out" look.
I also grabbed a $30 external CD Burner on ebay from what looked to be a reputable seller. I'm not concerned about speed so much as creating a few library discs of the nearly 5GB of mp3s I have clogging my hard drive. Oh, and burning Doc a couple of discs - I owe him one. I've been really good about not dropping two bills on another jersey as of yet, but I almost found myself seriously entertaining a $85 bowling shirt, which was a $40 shirt with an Ace-Jack of Hearts embroidered on the back ($38) and "BG" in cursive letters over the breast ($7).
Of course, that's money about as well spent as buying one of them Mitchell & Ness throwback jerseys I want so bad. $300 for a Yale Lary #28? Who's Yale Lary again?
Actually, at minimum, I have to come out of this free money moment with a pair of shoes. I have no decent shoes with which to wear with shorts, so this is a priority. Actually, I'd love to get a pair of sandals, but the trick with those is finding a way to wear sandals with my orthotic inserts. The shoe store lady said I could get some velcro tape and stick my orthotics in that way, but I'm not sure that's a real viable solution, especially considering my bare feet don't particularly like the feel of the hard plastic insert.
I could always wear socks with my sandals, but I do have some class.
Fifteen cuts randomly shuffled in from my "Master" playlist on the iPod:
"Didn't I Blow Your Mind This Time" - The Delfonics
"Can It Be All So Simple" - The Wu-Tang Clan
"Paraphrenalia" - Miles Davis
"Countdown" - John Coltrane
"So What" - Miles Davis (could be any one of four versions)
"All My Love" - Led Zeppelin
"Spazzola" - Method Man
"My Wife" - The Who
"Do It Again" - Steely Dan
"Honky Tonk (Take 2)" - Miles Davis
"Doctor Wu" - Steely Dan
"Snakes" - Ol' Dirty Bastard
"I Shall Be Released" - Bob Dylan w/ The Band
"Beside You" - Van Morrison
"There Is No Greater Love" - Miles Davis (either of two versions)
For my dustjacket, or obituary
Lifted from reviews of various products on Amazon.com, references changed to boost my own ego.
"Wow, was the reaction that i gave once i (read) diz amazing (website) and all the (posts) are hott...When it comes to dropping the illest (words)? Besides, (Otis), and (Pauly)? (BG) always holds it down. Ight, onto "(GamblingBlues)" by (BG), its raw,dark, haunting,gives you a feeling of beating some one up and the lirycs are straight. I highy recomment diz (website)."
"I really can't even explain it...the amount of work that must go into writing this (blog) is unbelievable. The subtle humor, the way (posts) further into the (future) will make call backs to earlier (posts), the silly quirks of each of the (moods of BG). It's a shame that (supposedly) they're thinking about (changing the blog) after the (next WPBT Vegas trip), and it's ironic that the (blog's) best quality is probably the cause of it. This isn't the kind of (blog) you can just tune into in the middle of (a rant). While (BG), the (blog's author) does his best at getting the new (reader) up to date with what's going on, this (website) is no where NEAR as funny unless you've been (reading) all along and can understand all of the sly, subtle humor relating to events past. Honestly, this (blog) is best to (read at home) where you can (re-read posts) over again, and (scroll back) to (read) the parts you missed because you were laughing so hard the first time.
In short, do yourself a favor and (read) this (blog), and (read his other stuff) if/when it comes out. At the risk of sounding cliche (a lot of people say this, but it's true), this is the best (blog on the web) since (Grubby). On a weekend when you have nothing to do, (read all 500,000 words), all in a row. That's the way this (blog) is best enjoyed."
"You people complaining about this (blog) are looking for a different product. It's like going into the cereal aisle of the supermarket and grabbing a box of Frosted Flakes and yelling "HEY! THESE aren't Crunchberries! How DARE this NOT be a box of my beloved CRUNCHBERRIES!!!" You know how stupid you sound? So you don't happen to care for this specific (blog). SO WHAT? Your every whim has not yet been met by the marketplace. Boo-HOO. How about this: Just don't (read) the freaking thing! Wait until YOUR favorite flavor gets (published). Dopes."
"There's no question about it in my opinion. (BG) has written the best (blog) on poker ever -- and without a doubt the best (advice) on No Limit Hold Em. Without going into exhaustive detail, let me just say that (BG) takes the oft difficult concepts of no limit hold em and poker in general and makes them simple and clear. Not that he suggests that mastering expert play is simple or easy -- but he presents the information that the successful player must have so well that the many, many significant concepts are easily grasped.
This (blog) is, by design, written to teach people how to win no limit texas hold em tournaments. But it accomplishes must more than that. (BG) presents the essence of successful poker play and with it builds the firm foundation of understanding that is so often missing from other poker (blogs).
I am a poker author. I wish I had read this text before I wrote my first poker (blog) or poker article. And I certainly wish I had read this (blog) before my first no limit hold em game. And I will say, once again, I truly believe this to be the best poker (blog) ever written -- and there's (more) yet to come. Bravo (Boy Genius)!"
"I was very scared by this (website). I am afraid of people who change personalities like this. It reminds me too much of the Democratic party here in the USA!
Yo, all kidding aside... This is some of the funniest sh** I've ever seen. For those of you who say that it lacks intelligence, you're obviously not well-versed in dramatic irony. This guy is a gifted comedian, and I would recommend it to anyone with an above average IQ, a relatively open mind and a healthy heart (the laughter might kill you otherwise). I'm also a huge fan of (Bob) - if that tells you anything. Peace out!"
"One of the funniest (blogs) ever is on (the web)! This is the one (blog) i can honestly say there is not a single bad (post). If you've seen this (website) its not hard to understand why they say its based on Nothing. (BG is) always getting into predicaments over the most trivial things! The (archives of this blog have) unforgetable episodes like the one where (BG gives an ex-girlfriend the "Fredo" speech) and the one where (BG answers phones on a telethon). If you love (GamblingBlues) you've probably (read) all of these but (visit) this (website) anyway it has excellent (stories) and has tons of extras!"
"A previous reviewer condemned this (blog) as being derivative, poorly written, and -- most scandalous of all -- unfunny. This (website), however, takes a certain kind of outlook to enjoy. It would be nice if everyone could get the same benefits from the (blog) as everyone else. That's not going to happen, however. One thing we CAN depend on is that the point remains the same. This is the only existentialist (website) apart from (BadBlood On Poker) that even has pretensions of wit. Since it's a known fact that people learn more when they're laughing, it makes it easier to convey the (blog's) inner message of whether we are free as individuals, whether we are capable of making our own decisions apart from our society, and whether that freedom even matters once a decision has been made by [for?] us. Worth reading, but not everyone will be equally entertained."
"(GamblingBlues) is one of the most fascinating (websites) i have ever read in my whole life. It helped me to change my perspective of life, to be more optimistic and to be much more objective than subjective. I can now see the situations of life through the eyes of the other people. I can come down to their way of thinking and can know why they object with me, or disagree with me in many cases, and/or i disagree with them. i came to a conclusion, that perceptions of the people differ in many ways and in order to reach the highest level of understanding people you have to change your perspective and try to see what they see though their own eyes, and not only through my own eye. (GamblingBlues) is truly recommended for every one. While reading this (website) I got the feeling that i am in another world, where I can see through it the truth and reality. (BG) in that (blog) really fascinated me and my thoughts, and he is incomparable to (Al Can't Hang), who is also dealing with many of the themes in (BG's blog), but in a very broad way that can not help you enough to get in to depth and know how people think."
I give myself five stars. According to the above, I kick all sorts of ass.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Presto Sarò Un Americano Ricco
I figure after taxes and the lump sum cash option are factored in, my $120M jackpot win in the lotto tonight will come to somewhere around $50.7M - give or take a few mill in either direction.
That'll be enough to let me buy that little villa in some small Italian town with a thriving farmer's market and purveyors of all the cured meats that end in vowels that I love so dearly. I'll disappear to the land of my ancestors where my only difficult decisions on the daily will be what varietal, what region, and how many bottles? I'll buy goats, and Frye the Dog will run gleefully over the rolling hills nipping at their heels. There'll be a small vineyard towards the back, and a shed filled with oaken barrels fermenting my own table wine from the franc grapes I'll pull right from the vines.
She'll be the daughter of a peasant farmer, and she'll cast her eyes demurely to the ground as I pretend to weigh heavily the selection of the right head of arugula from her father's baskets. She'll reconsider, as the curiosity whether or not I'm trying to find her eyes becomes too much. I toss a smile back her way and open negotiations with her father in pigeon Italian while never fully taking my eyes off sun-drenched olive skin as she finds something, anything to keep herself occupied enough to not run irretrievably into my world in that very instant.
Francisco is my aide, and my only confidante in the Old World, and has my ear moments after securing my produce from the farmer. He whispers that the peasant knew of the young American flush with wealth that had chosen a small Abruzzo village as his home, and was it possible that I was he?
"Il suo nome è Olivia." Roberto the peasant farmer says. It is weeks before I taste her lips, and more than a year passes before the bells in the village square celebrate the union of the peasant girl and the wealthy American. She and I grow old with the scent of ossobucco wafting through the little villa in which we reside.
Either that, or I just become a semi-permanent fixture in a suite at the Bellagio and spend my time with some semi-classy hookers. That's close enough to Italy to basically be Italy, but there I don't have to do my own cooking and can play poker with the big boys all day long.
Whatever. I figure by this time tomorrow I can just pay someone to tell me what my dreams should be. Rich people shouldn't have to think for themselves. That's why we have Fox News.
Not A Tournament Report
Goddamn that fifth place finish Sunday night felt great.
First off, major kudos to Gracie, Al, and Prof for sticking around to railbird.
Without their company, I probably would have just pushed with any two cards as soon as I hit the money.
So there I was, waiting for #32 and #31 to bubble out to cash $50 out for my efforts, and it finally happens. I fold my way to the cash and am sufficiently short stacked enough to just say "screw it" and push from middle position with 67o, happy to take my $50 and take the dog out to pee.
Flop gives me two pair, river fills me up. I quintuple up and can make a run at the final table. Frye's going to have to hold it.
I think I only made two mistakes (er, significant mistakes) during the tournament. Thankfully, my boobery got paid off big time with that terrible push, and I coasted my way to the top ten from that point rather easily.
The other mistake? Just your standard stone cold bluff raise with a medium stack against a perceived position play on a ragged board. He re-raised, I got out. Dumbass play that took me from medium to short in one ill-advised steal attempt.
Anyway, fifth place was as good a place as any to finish. I hadn't broken higher than fifth place overall in chip count at any point anyway, so maybe that's where it was going to come to a screeching halt for me.
$350 is a really nice score for me. It's easily my best big tournament finish (though there was that time 55 players played in a WPBT event and I took third), and is also my biggest online tournament win if measured by dollars.
I'm calling that "free money" and spending it on myself. I'm going to get my watch fixed ($90), and probably will buy a pair of shoes ($50-$100).
Whoa BG, slow down... You don't want to get too nutty with that dough.
You're right, but don't try and stop me from considering either two new tires for my car or the Shaun Rogers jersey in white I've been coveting for some time now.
I really need to preface these next couple of paragraphs with a disclaimer.
I have nothing against retarded people, nor do I find retarded people particularly funny except when they're doing those sorts of things that are, in fact, particularly funny. And I've got nothing against retarded people holding full-time employment.
(Watch this next sentence)
I have a friend who's a Down's Syndrome guy, he's employed full-time, and he's a good guy.
(That's true too you know)
Anyway, I'm driving around town at lunch and pass the local Store 'n' Lock facility. Now, it's a little nippy outside today, but not exceptionally so, and I spot what appears to be a fat girl in a parka wearing a half-assed Statue of Liberty costume waving like a maniac to cars from the business' front lawn.
Pale green sheet wrapped as a toga plus foam crown plus novelty torch equals Statue of Liberty costume, apparently.
I get closer and realize that it is, in fact, a fat girl in a parka wearing a half-assed Statue of Liberty costume, but not only is it a fat girl in a parka wearing a half-assed Statue of Liberty costume, but it's a fat girl with Down's in a parka wearing a half-assed Statue of Liberty costume.
It's 50 degrees here today, not 20, so I guess it's not so bad trotting the poor girl out front, but she was cold. If she's leaving the parka on, I'm thinking just pay her for the day and send her home to her mom. It's terrible the way we slave drive our retarded in this country. I mean, they should earn their keep like the rest of us and all, but if it's cold and you're going to dress them up and trot them out to the front yard to wave at traffic, then you're the asshole.
Frankly, it must be nice to be one of the employed retarded in this country. I mean, women can use "female problems" as an excuse with a male boss to solid effect, so couldn't a retarded worker get away with just about anything? Calling in sick? Just tell the boss your retardedness is flaring up today, must be the humidity. Fumble the quarterly sales statistics? Screw it, you didn't know any better, you're retarded.
You know what? Eff them. Seriously. Let the fat girl wave to traffic, see if I care. I'm here busting my hump every day and some jackass with a mongoloid melon can beg out of bagging groceries because it's raining? I'm not putting up with this crap from the sweetly retarded anymore.
C'mon! Who's with me?!?
Sunday, April 10, 2005
1548 enter the ring, and I decimate 1543 of them.
Well, not personally.
I just took FIFTH in a Party Poker $5k Players Points Freeroll, which was good for $350. Damn, I'm spent.
I lost, by the way, with a pre-flop all-in with 88 that was called by big stack's KQo. He caught, I didn't, I'm $350 richer.
Bill Simmons @ ESPN
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