Tuesday, January 31, 2006
I'M ELECTRIC, CAN YOU BE ELECTRIC TOO?
|You Are Lightning|
Beautiful yet dangerous
People will stop and watch you when you appear
Even though you're capable of random violence
You are best known for: your power
Your dominant state: performing
via Urban Grind.
Best Picture: Brokeback Mountain
Best Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman
Best Actress: Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line.
Best Supporting Actor: George Clooney, Syriana
Best Supporting Actress: Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Director: George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck
And I say that with all the confidence of one who has seen none of those films.
BEST UNINTENTIONAL DISS OF THE DAY
Me: So, I was watching the Enron movie last night, "The Smartest Guys in the Room" and what really got me were the people they interviewed that talked about Lay and Skilling from when they were in school and how they all were like "yeah, I totally saw that coming. Those guys were always crooks and jerks." It made me wonder who they'll interview when I am finally brought down to say "yeah, that Dawn Summers was always trouble."
Sometime guest blogger DRobbski: Umm...don't you first have to be up before you're brought down?
Hmm...at least I think it was unintentional.
BATMAN WAS ROBBED
But at least King Kong didn't get any nods.
The misanthropes have got two new posts up in as many days!
But this isn't cool.
How does this blog decide who to report on? It's simple. We report on hypocrites. In this case, hypocrites who vote against the gay and lesbian community while engaging in gay sex themselves*.
When you cast that vote, Mr. Senator, represent your own...it's the least you could do.
Actually, it could probably fall under some legal definition of blackmail, but hey, I'm no criminal lawyer. I don't get how a openly gay person could be comfortable using "outing" as a threat to change behavior. On the one hand, it would seem to reinforce the idea that homosexuality is something to be ashamed of and kept hidden at all costs. On the other hand, it singles out gay politicians to be punished in ways that their straight counterparts, who vote the same way, are not punished.
It's like punishing African-American Republicans by calling them white or denying them membership in national black organizations --- discriminating against your own people because of who they are...isn't that something minorities, of all people, should be vehemently against?
Sure, Republican/conservatism is bad and must be stopped at all costs, but can't we use a nice sexuality/gender/race neutral way to change their Republican minds? Like...I dunno...waiting for them in an alley with a sack of oranges and a bat?
Ex-post office worker goes postal.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Jack Bauer only has 24 hours.
He has time to kill people, stab people, blow shit up, break necks, take hostages, steal helicopters, hotwire cars, interrogate suspects, and escape from impossible-to-escape from holes in walls.
However, Jack Bauer does NOT have, I repeat NO LO TIENE, time to tell some dumb bitch he's never stopped loving her.
That is all.
I'm heading out to Vegas in March/April. Where's the best (read: cheap but doesn't look like it; no gunfire a must) place to stay out there? Any good shows to see? And where's the best poker?
"I am a pro-choice, pro-environment, pro-Bill of Rights Republican and I will be voting against this nomination." U.S. Senator Lincoln Chafee (R-RI)
Wow...Chafee, Kerry, Clinton AND Lieberman? Is it me or has the Senate gotten interesting again?
- Rewrite memo
- Make four column chart
- Complete redaction log
- Beat Ugarte about the head
Man shatters priceless Ming vases after tripping on shoelaces.
''A friend of mine always says if you don't have something nice to say about someone, let's hear it,'' said ''Lost'' co-star Terry O'Quinn, surrounded by fellow cast members. ''So about our cast, I'd like to say that this is the saddest collection of climbing, grasping, paranoid, back-stabbing, screen-grabbing losers and schmoozers that you ever saw on your stage in your life. But we love each other very much.''
Maybe they should get Locke to do some of the writing for the sagging show.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Me: I need to come up with a cool character and write a TV Series or a movie trilogy. Ideally something with a cute teenage girl that does something cool.
F-Train: Like have sex?
Me: No, dude. I'm not a pornographer. She'll have like powers of some kind.
Alceste: Pornographic powers!
Bob Woodruff exploded in Iraq.
Though that in no way constitutes approval of the yearly animal themes.
The last time I was in AC, I was playing poker at our hotel, when a new player joining the table sat down next to me with his chips and said hello.
This isn't at all unusual.
It may even be mandated by like, I don't know, manners or civilized society or something.
I smiled, said hello back and returned to the game.
He then said something else, I'm not really sure what because I had just looked down at my hand and saw the rolls royce of poker hands: pocket aces.
I'm already in the "man I hope I don't lose my whole stack with these" mode, when I make raise from early position.
Of course, the new guy can't see my cards, so he resumes his chit chat.
"What's your name?"
I tell him my real name...because well, in real life that's what you do when you're not insane.
Again, I am more than a little distracted because my raise has gotten FOUR callers.
WHAT DO THEY HAVE???? ARRRGGHHH
The flop comes K A Q.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am hoping and praying my raise was enough to chase out the J10 people...Karol, I am looking at you.
The guy, again, having NO idea that I am dealing with how to play my set of aces here, interrupts me again.
"Really? It's funny, you look a lot like a girl I know named Dawn. She likes poker too."
I smile politely.
"Nope. My name's not Dawn."
Of course, I am also totally thinking "what? all black people look alike to you?"
I return to the hand. There's been a check to me.
I bet pot.
Then a raise from the checker.
Damn you, JACK TEN.
Fine. Screw it. If I'm going down, I'm going down with aces.
He says 'call' in a shot and flips over KQ!
I turn over my set.
All eyes are now on the table.
"Man, I figured you had an ace...but not two of them," says the check raiser, who had only sat down a few hands ago and now watched his whole stack hinging on hitting two runners for quads.
The turn is a King.
His eyes light up.
I stand up.
The river is a FOUR!
I sit back down, stacking all the chips, never wanting to hug a dealer more in my whole life.
"Oh my god, he knows F-train," Karol squeals to me as I start to recover.
I look at the new guy again...I guess he does seem sorta familiar. In between the flop and me watching my stack flash before my eyes before doubling, Karol had told the new guy that I am called Dawn on my blog, found out he was a blogger too and determined that we were indeed linked through he of the poker blogging fame.
"Did we meet at the Bash?"
"No, we met at Borgata. You were watching a movie on your DVD player. But I thought your name was Dawn."
Yeah...Right...man...what was that about sane people using their real names in real life?
I am such a dork.
But the good news is HiOnPoker is so not a racist.
Friday, January 27, 2006
In fact, it was a balmy 102 degrees, with some vomiting all day Thursday. Though, Friday was chilly...I mean, chills.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Currently coursing through my veins:
6 Nyquil Liquid Gelcaps
4 Tylenol PMs
2 Sudafed Sinus Tablets
and 1 way too late Multi-Vitamin.
If there's something worse than calling in sick because you're actually sick, I don't want to know about it.
You should at least have a good reason.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
No longer wondering how to classify "living in my mom's apartment" for purposes of the "rent or own" question.
The downside? Starts with Co-op and ends with Board.
I'm quite certain 'Everybody Hates Chris' won't make it.
I, for one, await an apologetic website with shameful Ottawans hanging their heads.
Monday, January 23, 2006
It's Gib's second annual blogiversary.
He doesn't have a wish list or paypal button posted, so send him commenting goodiness.
Kaz will be dj-ing in Brooklyn this Friday night.
I don't know what it says about me that one of the coolest people I know is calling herself a dork, but if you're free, it should be fun.
Because it SUCKED.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
I come from a business background, so there are times in my law firm existence where I feel like a fish out of water. Attempting to understand a law firm's organizational and decision making structure boggles my mind. Straining my eyes to see behind the smokescreens and learn the real reason partners prefer different business models and associate support patterns has caused more tension headaches than I care to admit. But, from my perspective, nothing -- and I do mean nothing -- is more confusing, frustrating, demoralizing and nonsensical than an associate's performance review given by partners at a big law firm.
In theory, a performance review is supposed to cover the incumbent's history of completing tasks within the core competencies for a particular position and set goals for the future. From my experience in the business world, reviews generally followed that pattern. From my experience in the legal world, however, law firm performance reviews are completely different. Law firm performance reviews are all about vindictiveness, passive-aggressive behavior, and sniping from the bushes under cover of anonymity. And this happens whether or not the partners like the associate and whether or not the partners want to keep the associate around.
Here are some gems of comments from my recent associate performance review:
1) What was said: "You should leave matter staffing decisions to partners." What was meant: "Shut up and do the work, we don't care that you've worked 20 hour days for 6 weeks in a row. Although we just finished lecturing you for working too hard, we are now going to lecture you about asking for help when we work you too hard." My takeaway: "I can't win, so I'm not going to try."
2) What was said: "One of your evaluators would not seek you out for work in the future." What was meant: I'm not really sure. Everything I did for that evaluator drew strong, public praise during the year. When I asked the evaluator what I should do to fix the working relationship he told me he checked the wrong box by mistake. But, he realized too late to change the rating, so he just let it stand. My takeaway: "I just got lectured for 10 minutes about how important it is to keep the confidence of partners based on a mistaken check mark that could have been corrected, but was not. Oh yeah, and my bonus just went down $5,000 because of that mistaken checkmark. Thanks a lot."
3) What was said: "You need to spend more time on writing assignments." What was meant: "You gave short-shrift to a particularly vindictive partner's request to write a textbook for him. Mind you, we all know this textbook would have been in his name, and you would have received no credit for it whatsoever. You also would not have hit your billable hour target if you accepted it. So, now we're going to criticize your lack of dedication for not writing textbook." My takeaway: "So, let me get this straight. So far I've been lectured for working too hard, for not working hard enough, for being one of the most productive associates in the office, for being a slacker, and for a mistaken check box. Yeah, this is going well so far. I wonder if my recruiter will be around to talk a little later."
This went on for what seemed like hours. I took notes, nodded, asked questions as appropriate. All the while, though, I was trying to figure out what on earth I was supposed to take away from the review. As far as I knew, I was a horrible associate who was failing miserably, and doing so in ways that could not be corrected. Do I work more, or less? Do I write textbooks, or focus on billable work? I could not figure it out. None of it made sense. We were not breathing the same air. I was flopping around on the deck after being hauled in from the sea.
And when I had concluded that, in short, I am a crappy lawyer with no future prospects, the review draws to a close with the following message. "We want this to be a message of success. You are on the right path and doing exactly what we expect." And they hand me a generous bonus check and say they look forward to reviewing me next year.
Yeah, sure. Me too. If I don't suffocate first.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Transit Union workers REJECT contract negotiated by union leaders.
The workers opted to ignore Transport Workers Union local president Roger Toussaint's call for ratification and follow the lead of a dissident group urging rejection. The voting ended at noon Friday, and Toussaint said the final tally was 11,234 against and 11,227 in favor.
Toussaint, who announced the surprising vote at a Manhattan news conference, blamed "downright lies" told by union members who opposed the proposed deal. He also said TWU members were worried by Gov. George Pataki's threat to veto a key $110 million refund of pension plan contributions.
The Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which oversees the city's mass transit system, had no immediate comment. Toussaint said his union was ready to "go back to the drawing board" and meet with the MTA as soon as possible.
When life gave Jack Bauer lemons, he used them to kill terrorists. Jack Bauer fucking hates lemonade.
Jack Bauer was never addicted to heroin. Heroin was addicted to Jack Bauer.
More fun with Jack Bauer here.
Notice, I said 'with,' not 'of'...please don't kill me Jack.
KNOW THY AUDIENCE
Of all the snarky catchphrases I've got going, "have we met?" is probably my favorite.
Foil: "You've got a layover in Chicago? You do know that for thirty dollars more you could probably have gotten a direct flight?"
Me: Have we met? If you were thirty dollars, I'd put you in my ing account right now.
And when I read this article, that catchphrase seemed all too apt.
After years of silence, the father of American-born Taliban soldier John Walker Lindh asked President Bush on Thursday to grant clemency to his son, who he says was wrongly maligned as a traitor and murderer.
You're asking Bush to *pardon* someone known as "the American Taliban"?
Forget met Bush...Ever heard of him? Maybe seen pictures in magazines? Heard him on the radio?
Does he seem like the pardoning kind of guy?
Are you crazy? You're lucky Bush doesn't get Gonzalez to write him a letter saying the President can unilaterally impose death sentences.
U.S. Grants Cuba License to Play in Baseball Classic.
With KJc I make the standard raise to three times the big blind UTG.
Guy to my left reraises me to eight times the big blind.
I know, I should have folded.
The flop comes:
A 5 10 ALL CLUBS.
I check my nut flush.
He goes all-in.
I beat him to the pot.
The turn is the 9 of hearts.
The river is a 9 of diamonds.
He makes his aces full of nines fullhouse with runner nines and that's all she wrote.
I busted out on my first hand.
Yeah, That's About Right
- Scientists have discovered that Dawn Summers can smell the presence of autism in children!
- The condom - originally made from Dawn Summers - was invented in the early 1500s!
- Dawn Summers can live for up to a week without a head!
- Red Dawn Summers at night, shepherd's delight. Red Dawn Summers at morning, shepherd's warning.
- Long ago, the people of Nicaragua believed that if they threw Dawn Summers into a volcano it would stop erupting.
- The fingerprints of Dawn Summers are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene!
- Dawn Summers is the only one of the original Seven Wonders of the World that still survives.
- Some people in Malaysia bathe their babies in beer to protect them from Dawn Summers.
- Dawn Summers can use only about ten percent of her brain.
- Two grams of Dawn Summers provide enough energy to power a television for over twenty-three hours.
Via the Birthday Boy
Thursday, January 19, 2006
I don't know if it's because 24 was soo freaking great, but Lost was unfreakingwatchable this week.
"You told me what to do and I didn't like it"
"Well, you told me what to do first"
Oooh, I've got guns
ooo, I'm a boogeyman. I have a magic invisible shield. I bet the freaking button recharges them.
"Get your feet off my coffee table and put your shoes on."
Heaven help me I MISS SHANNON!
ok...I don't really. But no more of this pod/smoke monster/lord of the flies children all grown up.
WHERE'S PEARATTY WHEN YOU NEED HER...
So when you're going to a weekend wedding, on an island in the Pacific, where the only hotel is $200/night, no gift is required...right?
DO I SOUND LIKE HILLARY CLINTON?
Me: I'd like to book a room for the So&So Wedding
Receptionist: OK, how many adults?
Her: Ok, I have a nonsmoking room with a king sized bed. Is that ok?
Me: No. Do you have a room with two separate beds?
Her: Yes, we have a nonsmoking room with two queen beds.
Me: That'd be great.
Her: Ok, I have you booked for three nights. Will that be Mr & Mrs. Dawn Summers checking in?
I run my finances like a well-oiled machine of automatic electronic payments. Thus, when I received an automated phone call today from the electric company (the utility, not the family friendly television program) threatening to turn off my electricity for non-payment, I was understandably incensed.
Of course, that was before I called my bank and found out that while I
Anyhoo...if you ever want to know how long you can go without paying Con Edison in New York City before you arrive home to a dark apartment, shoot me an email.
'MUSTANG SALLY' SINGER DEAD OF HEART ATTACK
And I know the guy that killed him.
Are they freaking kidding me?? Look, ok, maybe I buy that Luke tells his crazy ass sister about his daughter before he tells Lorilei. MAYBE.
But Luke is HELLA not postponing his wedding over this. DUDE. He has waited, what, FIFTEEN years with a newspaper clipping in his pocket for this chick to give him a chance, and now he's postponing his wedding with a known Runaway Bride?
Oh, and what's with Lorilei helping out the Preppy murderer. Never. Never. Never.
I am loving the new Mrs. Kim/Lane relationship. And with the Rory dropping out of school stuff, I'd forgotten how much I love Paris!
But on the whole, the writers must get their act together and a refresher course into who these characters are and what drives them.
FAMILY, LOVE, CHILDREN, BLAH BLAH BLAH
This is the best reason I've seen yet to get married.
Who else is driving to the airport to see if you've left the keys in the car?
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Day trip to Auschwitz! Return ticket promised.
My guess would be that no one wants to deal with the question of whether all the opposing team's players defecting constitutes a forfeit.
Castro says U.S. afraid to play Cuba in baseball.
A friend of mine is looking to sublet a nice (read: big with a real kitchen) one bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
The rent is currently~$1536.95 through March 31st, 2006. You can also sign a lease with the landlord for one or two years, if you want to stay on.
No broker's fee, but there will be a $50 credit check to apply for the apartment, a security deposit, first month will be required.
You must be ready to move in and pay for the last 35 days of the lease (starting February 25)
Click on the email link on the right side of the blog for more info.
Kid remains safe at home for his father to beat him.
Opinionista is Mellisa Lafsky of some craptacular law firm I never heard of.
I think Arrested Development would be weird on ABC.
ABC is for dramas, not comedies.
while in a crowded elevator, if you could avoid using the phrase "I just can't shake this infection," while conversing with your friend, we'd all appreciate it.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Friendship Between Women:A woman didn't come home one night. The next day she told her husband that she had slept over at a girlfriend's house. The man called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew anything about it.
Friendship Between Men:A man didn't come home one night. The next day he told his wife that he had slept over at a buddy's house. The woman called her husband's 10 best friends. Eight of them confirmed that he had slept over, and two claimed that he was still there.
Clarence Ray Allen was pronounced dead at 12:38 a.m. at San Quentin State Prison. He became the second-oldest inmate put to death nationally since the Supreme Court allowed capital punishment to resume in 1976.
Allen, who was blind and mostly deaf, suffered from diabetes and had a nearly fatal heart attack in September only to be revived and returned to death row, was assisted into the death chamber by four large correctional officers and lifted out of his wheelchair.
But still funny.
Having suffered a heart attack back in September, Allen had asked prison authorities to let him die if he went into cardiac arrest before his execution, a request prison officials said they would not honor.
"At no point are we not going to value the sanctity of life," said prison spokesman Vernell Crittendon. "We would resuscitate him," then execute him.
But the barrel-chested prisoner's heart was strong to the end: Doctors had to administer a second shot of potassium chloride to stop it.
"It's not unusual. This guy's heart had been going for 76 years," said Warden Stephen Ornoski.
This story gets not ha-ha funnier every minute.
Ok...um...it's a little ha ha funny. hahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Supreme Court upholds right to die statute.
I can't believe that Kennedy is now the lone moderate.
Right off the bat, let me say, FOX FREAKING SUCKS DOG BRAIN.
How on earth could they premiere its hottest, most critically acclaimed show, on the same night that it's got a football game that will likely run over the allotted time?
So, aside from missing the last 11 minutes of hour two, 24 is AMAZING.
Sure, the plotlines are essentially loops of two main storylines: A) Someone wants revenge on Jack B) Terrorists want to destroy America.
But somehow, the show manages it so that every Season I still sit on the edge of my seat and am pissed that there will be a whole week to wait to see how it all turns out.
That first scene with Michelle? All I have to say about that is...WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
I haven't been that happy since Shannon's last scene on Lost.
I don't know why there must always be some annoyingly unkempt brooding teen in the mix, but when Jack said to him "the only reason you're still conscious is because I don't want to carry you," it totally made it worth it.
Hopefully, cube is doing his kill count again this year, the first four hours alone would be a handful to keep track of.
Oh, and Jean Smart as crazy ass first lady? INSPIRED.
On the flip side...what's the Hobbitt doing there...wrong, wrong, wrong...couldn't they have gotten Angela Bassett or something?
President dumbass, has, if that's even possible, seemed to have gotten dumber. The Bush administration must love this show, makes our President look like Mensa material.
Speaking of which, what the hell was up with Geena Davis' acceptance speech? She's a moron. Jason Lee was sooo robbed...his only consolation will be that when The Office is finally cancelled, Earl will likely still have years left in life.
Ooops, got distracted, 24.
This is the best show on television. Bar none.
So...what happened in the last 11 minutes of hour two?
Saturday, January 14, 2006
I'm guessing he was brain-dead before they shot him.
Just five months, one week and three days after I purchased it, Levitz has finally delivered my freaking coffee table.
CONVERSATION OF THE YEAR
Last night I went to the regular poker tournament that I play in. I walk through the door and say good evening to the host.
Host: Hey Dawn, how are you? This is my friend Wendeen.
Alceste: Hi, I'm the guy that was added.
Dawn: Umm...hi...I've seen you on TV.
Wendeen: Oh, man. I thought I could get away with being incognito.
Dawn: Sorry, if you've been on TV ever, I know who you are. I'm a freak that way.
Wendeen: So, how much TV do you watch?
Dawn: Oh, 20-24 hours a day. TIVO makes it possible.
Wendeen: Wow. So, I had no chance.
Alceste made sure I didn't get to play with her at the final table. Because he apparantly is a soulless vampire...how does he manage to have the 56d flush when I have the 23d flush? HOW?
But she talked to us about poker strategy and told me to say hi to a managing partner at my new firm for her -- OH MY STARS...what ah crazy life I lead sometimes.
Friday, January 13, 2006
The White House said on Thursday deficit spending in the 2006 budget would soar above $400 billion, well over a July forecast, and the election-year jolt was blamed largely on Hurricane Katrina costs.
Ah, but they're still clamoring for more tax cuts, so the more things change...
Kari Wuhrer who pushed out Sabrina Lloyd on Sliders, now sues tv show for giving her the boot.
[Russian politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky] attributed that "coarse anti-Russian statement" to Rice being "a single woman who has no children."
"If she has no man by her side at her age, he will never appear," Zhirinovsky ranted on. "Condoleezza Rice needs a company of soldiers. She needs to be taken to barracks where she would be satisfied.
"Condoleezza Rice is a very cruel, offended woman who lacks men's attention," he added. "Such women are very rough. … They can be happy only when they are talked and written about everywhere: 'Oh, Condoleezza, what a remarkable woman, what a charming Afro-American lady! How well she can play the piano and speak Russian!'
"Complex-prone women are especially dangerous. They are like malicious mothers-in-law, women that evoke hatred and irritation with everyone. Everybody tries to part with such women as soon as possible. A mother-in-law is better than a single and childless political persona, though."
Thursday, January 12, 2006
To watch that show with Emily. It's stupid. In every way. The people are such trite, cheap knock offs of better/richer/more interesting characters that are available on DVDs.
Skip it, skip it, skip it. Heather should just return to Scrubs where at least the writers know how to pen funny lines for her.
And why, for the love of, do people keep hiring fake Jack for tv shows?
To Michael and his family on their new baby!
Those are just the most begging to be squeezed little cheeks I ever did see!
47 more days in Whiteyville.
Guess I should finally have that housewarming party that I've been putting off...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
REPUBLICAN SENATOR MAKES MRS. ALITO CRY!!!
ASKS NOMINEE IF HE IS A BIGOT?!
Now, I just need the flashing alarm codes...
DID ANYONE ELSE TOTALLY JUST SEE 'BUSH RESIGNS'?
Bush Is Resigned to Hearings on Domestic Spying
By the way...we're still not through the first year of the second term.
APPARENTLY IT'S ANTI-ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION DAY HERE AT CLAREIFIED
Look lady,these guys would kill for just a dry pinky toe policy.
U.S. border patrol agents investigating a caved-in road discovered a tunnel linking the United States and Mexico, the third such passage found in three years near the San Ysidro, California, crossing, authorities said Wednesday.
Lauren Mack, a spokeswoman for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, said agents found the 35-foot long, 3-foot-by-3-foot tunnel on Monday.
"It's unclear what it was used for, but inside we found trash and other evidence indicating people had been inside recently," Mack said.
I started a hole to China once, but then I got tired.
Judge rules pregnant woman can't use HOV lane.
This godless Arizona judge best not come crying to Pat Robertson when something bad happens to him. Everyone knows that in the bible God said fetuses are people who can satisfy HOV lane requirements.
Ever have one of those days when you completely understand serial killing?
Ummm...ok...well, me neither.
Especially if multiple bodies with links to me, should start turning up in or around Manhattan.
"We cannot accept these statements, and we will not sign any contracts with Mr. Robertson," a spokesman for Israel's Tourism Ministry, Ido Hartuv, said.
If only my government would also refuse to deal with Pat.
Those teenage/early twenties were not kind to him.
"Migrants, regardless of their migratory status, should not be treated like criminals," they said.
Colombian officials quickly added that all crops should be treated the same, no matter how high they make you.
Update your links as Fantasy Life is now in an ever so slightly different place.
Like when Buffy moved to UPN.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Why is it that when I motion to someone that I can't hear them by pointing at my ipod earphones, they stand there all expectantly, like I'm going to remove my earphones just to hear whatever blather they are trying to spout?
Don't they realize that not hearing them is one of the big draws to the earphones in the first place?
Going to work hung over is as American as apple pie. Or rum cake.
[The] ski Team is enraged over comments he made toward the end of the segment about being in "tough shape" at the start of a race.
"Talk about a hard challenge right there," Miller said. "If you ever tried to ski when you're wasted, it's not easy." He also spoke about skiing drunk - quite colorfully - in an interview with Maxim magazine.
Miller is expected to make a public statement this week, before competing in three World Cup races beginning Friday. According to McNichol, the skier will have to express regret about his words or stand behind them, and will face the possibility of expulsion if he chooses the latter.
Also, as far as endorsements go, the whole incident gives new and super cool meaning to the phrase "Miller Time."
DNA proves dog had
Dead woman left in front of television for two years.
Now is the time to delurk.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Ari in her prelude to feeding me to her puppies, has tapped me for a meme:
Italics copied and pasted entirely from Ari's blog:
The “rules” indicate that I should add this portion of text so here you go; enjoy.
The first player of this game starts with the topic “five weird habits of yourself,” and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says “You have been tagged” (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.
1. I can't stop doing something I've started, no matter how bad, annoying or painful it is. I think it's that "Winners never quit and quitters never win" poster that my second grade typing teacher had taped above the blackboard. See Karenina, Anna.
2. I pick up every tick, stutter, accent or limp of the person I'm talking to. This becomes particularly embarrassing if said person notices and thinks I'm making fun of them. Huh. That's probably how it started way back in elementary school.
3. I have my television on whenever I'm home. Well, with the advent of the sleep timer, it'll go off about 30 minutes after I fall asleep. However, with the advent of the on timer, it now also goes on ten minutes before I wake.
4. I talk to myself. Constantly.
5. Other people's bodily fluids freak me the hell out. I have sacrificed many a bottle of water/juice/soda once someone asks for a sip, rather than drink out of the same bottle as anyone else. And I never sit on any toilet unless I've just cleaned it and know for sure I'm it's only user.
I’m tagging the following bloggers for this meme:
Snaps Wheaton...do I have to have a reason? Fine. Because he's stupid.
Gib because I'm hoping he spills the secret to the magic Kool-Aid.
Ace because I come off pretty crazy in this one and I'm hoping he makes me seem normal. Any dungeons and dragons reference will do.
Big Orange Michael cause I am apparently tapping all guys.
And Iocaste cause her name sounds like a guy's... and for the same reason that I tapped Ace, except with Starsky & Hutch references.
I don't have a beginning for this post. I tried to think of one, but everything was either too sad, too mean or too random. So, we'll just jump right into the action --- like in Casino. There you are walking along, and then Robert DeNiro gets blown up in his car. Well, no one gets blown up or anything -- I just used that as a "for example" if you're wondering why --- all you're getting is a post title and then suddenly I'm sitting in a bar -- gulping down an unidentified, horribly nasty tasting pink alcoholic beverage because Kaz and Mike are drinking them too and I don't wanna look like a baby.
In fact, all I want is to be sipping a strawberry daquiri through a straw, but this isn't my first time at the Magician, so I know that only twelve year olds drink daquiris and since they can't get into bars, bars don't make daquiris. YUCK. I slam the glass back down on the table...still 3/4 to go.
How did I come to be in this place?
Well, it all started on New Year's Eve. After I finally eluded all the brilliantly placed, impenetrable checkpoints, with my boxes and bags, by simply paying a guy in a yellow car to drive me crosstown, I was all psyched for the night of boardgame play. Seriously, if Taboo was an Olympic sport, I'd be on a Wheaties box. (Did I ever tell you how I got someone to say the word feng shui in four seconds flat?) Anyway, the game night portion of the evening, was scheduled to follow the "wine tasting" portion of the evening.
Bad idea bear.
By the time I arrived, all the wine tasters were slumped down in their chairs, slurring on and on about "gay lesbian couples" and pre-marital ...something or another, my fingers were in ears and I was la la la-ing around the word lesbian. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
The conversation then became a very loud shout out about whether the host, a girl I knew from college, or her friend, a girl I didn't know so well from college, was the meaner one.
One of the guests came to the host's defense.
"Well, one time, when we were all over here for a party, I bent over to pick something up, revealing my underwear, and you shouted out to the room "Damn, Anne, Hane's Her Way much?"
Ouch. Other Girl: 1; Host: 0.
Feeling badly for the other girl, I decided to tell the story about how the host once pretended to be asleep rather than go hang out with this other girl she hated.
"Yeah, see? At least I say what's on my mind, the host is worse...she just hides it better."
This continued for a few more hours, until it became quite clear, that there would be no games played at all. I was about to curse the fates for my wasted trip, near arrest, unnecessary cab fare paying -- when the host remembered that she didn't give me my Christmas gift.
I tore into the paper to discover it merely covered up a brown delivery box. I tore into the brown delivery box to discover that it merely covered up white gift tissue paper. I tore into the tissue paper, to find a leather case buried at the bottom.
I opened up the leather case to find, game tiles for an ancient Chinese game. After tearing through the tiles to make sure they weren't covering up X-Files DVDs or a brand new video ipod....I put everything back into the box. Politely thanked my host for my present and went back to cursing the fates.
Dude, how hard is it to buy a present for me? Money, TV, poker, Clay, Eminem or Reba. Done and done. And if you get really stumped, it's not like I don't have a wish list. (By the way, thanks sooooo much to Worldwide Rants for the New Year's gift!)
It's exactly what I wanted. Unlike say a box of chinese tiles.
After a few more minutes, the other girl I didn't know so well from college (who had apparently won the "meaner" contest in a commanding fashion) announced that she had to leave for a party downtown.
"Oh, me too, I'll go with you."
As, we prepared to leave, the host reminded me of a completely, unintentional oversight.
"Hey, Dawn! Your present."
Riiight. Gosh. My face is red.
I grab the box -- which I now discover weighs 498 pounds -- and make my way down the stairs. Every year Kaz and JCN throw a New Year's party and I had promised Kaz, that I would make it this year. I even baked a cake for the occasion.
So, my new 498-pound friend was problematic. The other girl I didn't know so well offered to carry the cake, while I found some way to haul the box.
Thanks, I said, thinking, aw, she's not so mean.
We finally made it to the subway and she asked where I was headed.
"My friends' apartment is on Sixth Ave and 8th Street."
"Ok, I'm going to 5th and 8th."
Great! She can help me carry this stuff downtown.
Unfortunately, when we reached the 8th street station, I was a little stressed to realize that the exit left us on the corner of Sixth Ave and 8th street.
I looked around at the panoply of drug stores and clothing stores all around me and knew right away, I had the wrong address.
"Uh oh...this isn't where they live."
"Can you call them on your cell?"
"I could. But I left my cell in my friend's car and I'm supposed to get it from him at the party."
The other girl I didn't know so well placed the cake at my feet.
"Well, good luck. I gotta go." And she was off.
That bitch. She is mean.
I hailed a cab and thought about having him just drive around, when the address finally came to me.
He dropped me off and I made my way upstairs.
"Hey! What's in the box?" Kaz said.
"Oh, nothing. Just the worst present ever given to anyone in the history of the world." And that includes the frankincense given to a newborn.
Certain that I would need a chiropracter and a back brace, I went to Kaz's couch and hung out with F-train and his college friend.
Kaz came over a few minutes later to bring over some snacks, as she leaned to place the plates on the table -- well...let's just say Mr. and Mrs. Cleavage popped out to say hello.
"Wow, Kaz nice."
She stood up hastily and readjusted everything.
"Thanks a lot, F-train."
"No, no...thank you, Kaz," F-train's friend replied from the couch.
With glares enough for everyone, she took off. A little while later, Dawn 2 and Alceste (with my cellphone in tow) showed up.
The party was soon in full swing. Dawn was drinking beer, F-train was (and, yes, by the way, Dawn 2 -- you were totally right) macking an Asian chick and some weirdo somewhere was getting ready for a midnight run through Central park.Oh yeah, and I swear I saw George Clooney coming out of Kaz's bathroom.
Kaz and JCN's friends are probably the most interestingly eclectic collection of people ever gathered under one roof, so one minute I am talking to the mayor of boston -- who went to college with Kaz and the very next I am speaking Canadian with JCN's cousin, Keanu Reeves and chair dancing to "I'm not that innocent."
Then there was F-train's college friend Sonar who I berated because he "reads F-train's blog, but not mine."
"Umm...but I actually know F-train."
Yah. Like that's an excuse.
I believe I also successfully convinced Mike, who had baked like twenty pies for the party -- a feat that soundly mocked my chocolate cake baking effort--- that I'd rented the Spongebob Squarepants movie just because I heard he had a song in it -- and not because I am a twenty-five year old freak who loves Spongebob and have memorized all the words to the theme song.
At moments to midnight, JCN turned on the TV and I got to watch the backs of people who were watching the ball drop in Times Square.
JCN and Kaz also have an inexplicably large population of really tall friends. I went to the bedroom to call my mom to wish her a happy new year's and unfortunately, saw some things that I didn't wanna see, nor will soon forget.
Must invent eye scrubbing cream.
I stayed long enough to watch both Kaz and JCN extract kisses from all their guests ("You know JCN is drunk when he's asking me to kiss him" -- Alceste)...but I had a long road back to ECB and 498 pounds of Christmas gift goodness to carry.
I bid my hosts adieu and headed for the streets. I gave up on getting a cab after about 30 minutes of sticking out my arm, onlny to have the cab snatched away by quicker folks not carrying a 498 pound box.
Luckily, I got a subway back to Brooklyn right away and even managed to catch a cab to my building when I got off in the ECB.
But, how does any of this explain how our hero ended up at a table at the Magician sucking down moonshine? Well, turns out Mike was leaving for California a few days later and so impressed by my keen musical ear and pie eating abilities asked Kaz to invite me to his farewell shindig.
And I, assuming, of course, there would be pie or Spongebob, happily accepted.
The Magician is a little bar, at the far edges of civilized Manhattan. The last time I was there for JCN's party, this woman totally cut in front of me at the jukebox and then put in $50 worth of song choices. Pearatty kicked her ass for me though...or she promised to...one or the other.
Tonight, though, it was eerily quiet. The sounds of the announcers calling the Rose Bowl on the television above the bar were easily heard over the low coversation of the handful of people at the bar. I waved hello to Mike and introduced myself to a couple at the far end of the bar.
"Yeah, I think I saw you at Kaz and JCN's New Year's party...but we were both very drunk. Sissy like fell off her chair a couple of times."
"I wasn't that drunk...I'm just clumsy."
"Yeah. Doesn't it suck when you're defense to drunkeness is clumsiness?"
Dunno. Never been drunk in my life.
Somehow blogging came up (I'm Dawn. I have a blog, you should check it out) and the guy in the couple told me he had set his mom up with a blog. "She mostly writes about what a crappy son she has who never visits her or helps her out"
Sounds about what my mom would write about, if I were ever foolish enough to get her a blog.
He went outside to make a phone call, and I was about to offer to buy a round, when the group at the bar decided to move over to a table.
The bartender closed up the tab and, pointing to the seat just vacated by the bad son who never visits his mom, said "Is Johnny Black Guy coming back?"
Now, the bar was dark and I hadn't been talking to them long, but "Johnny Black Guy" was the whiteyest of white boys you could ever see, so I was confused at the bartender's nickname.
I wasn't alone.
"Johnny Black Guy?" someone asked.
"Yeah," the bartender said - the guy right there. Ordered a John Walker Black.
Everyone laughed and an African-american woman at the other end of the bar laughed.
"They thought you were calling him a black guy."
The bartender laughed. "No, no...his drink."
I couldn't resist.
"Well, yeah, cause if you meant his race, he's have to be Johnny African-American guy."
I seriously need a television deal.
I sat at the table with Mike and Pinky, a white woman with dreadlocks, who teaches music to rich kids after school.
Evidently, her music program was the inspiration for Jack Black's School of Rock movie.
I was fascinated.
"Did you meet him? Were you in the movie? Are there really rock competetions?"
There's some kind of grinding or tearing or shredding competition the kids do with guitars.
After a spell, we were joined by a girl that I'm going to call Lane. Because she was Asian, and I am racist.
I don't think Lane liked me very much. I don't know why, I certainly didn't suggest in any way that her people are particularly good at math or anything.
Oh...actually, I do know why. I asked her how she knew JCN and she said through photography. I then asked her if she had a photo blog and she gave me an emphatically disgusted no.
Apparently she has an internet portal, where she exhibits photograph stills in an electronic format on a regular basis.
I might have rolled my eyes.
Kaz finally joined us and as penance for arriving late, offered to buy us drinks. Pinky begged off, excusing herself because she was sick with some kind of flu stomach virus.
Mike said he'd have whatever Kaz was having and so I said the same.
When the drinks arrived, all pink and girly ("Hmm...my manhood is not at all threatened by being seen with this" - Mike), I definitely thought it would be right up my alley.
But the first sip sent my whole body into convulsions. It was like 200 proof. I can only assume the pink color was some kind of chemical reaction between the liquid and the glass.
I managed to sneak gulps in between Kaz calling me her stalker because I have every message she's ever sent telling me where she is saved to my Treo (even though as the one getting the incessant emails about her whereabouts, I believe I am the truly stalked party); JCN shoplifting a sandwich from the shop next door and Lane giving me the evil eye everytime she thought I wasn't looking. I figured I'd hang out until I had emptied the glass, but the ice cubes (also made from vodka) kept melting and adding to my sisyphusian endeavor.
But nine hours later, I was done.
So, we come now full circle to the beginning of the post or the end.
Blog/Internet Portal of electronically dissemated strings of data.
If I ever go missing, check under the clutter first. Then, Karol's basement.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Do you blog or do you play poker? -Karol
A couple of years ago, I made a resolution to get a lucrative hobby.
I mused that perhaps it would be coin collecting, but honestly I love money too much to see it taped to the inside of some photo album like some useless prey’s head mounted on a wall.
No, money is to be saved, invested, used for paying bills and ---someday, when you’re really rich --- liquidated into gold coins and swam in.
And then I stumbled into poker.
Oh, sad for the losses I sustained in 2004, yes.
But I finished up in 2005 – not significantly, but up and I was playing waaaaay better than I had in 2004.
So, I decided to put some of that poker blogger wisdom to good use and start 2006 out with a bankroll ---a set amount of money that I could comfortably lose without sacrificing any of the luxuries, like food and clothing, that I have become so accustomed to having; and an amount of money that, at year’s end, would tell me how good or bad I was at poker.
With my new found “poker money,” I set out to begin the year. It was not off to a promising start. In the past, I’d play until I was either up or had lost all my money. Then, I’d walk away. But with the depth of a bankroll, when I’d lose, I’d think “well, I still have lots in my bankroll.”
I donked (a word which here means, gave money away for no good reason to strangers in $2 increments) off about ten percent of my bankroll in two days.
I decided I needed to get away from poker for a while. So, after my lengthy two-day hiatus, I was ready to play again.
I hosted the first game of the New Year at the Walkup and managed to get the union haters and a friend of mine from law school together for a little no limit.
With my new, "no donking" mantra running through my head, I looked down to see pocket fours on my first hand.
Ari raised it up to twice the BB, and Anna (my law school friend, who I had never played with before) called.
I smooth called out of the SB…but I was worried.
Should I have folded the fours to any raise?
The flop came K 7 4—two diamonds.
Oh yeah, the Macarena is going off in my head.
I check to Ari.
She makes a pot sized bet.
Oh crap…is she on the flush draw?
“All-in,” I say. Putting all my chips in the middle on the first hand.
Ari gives me that “you better not let me catch you alone in the playground after school” look and folds.
Anna thinks for about a second and says “I call.”
My head hits the table, until I see her cards.
QJo – no diamonds.
She gets no help from the turn or river and I more than double up on my first hand.
For her part, Ari got her revenge a few hands later. She raised to four times the BB. Not hearing her raise, I then also called a raise to four times the BB – with AJc in my hand.
“There’s already been a raise.”
But hey, I’m all big and bad. I am on the button and have read almost half a chapter of Doyle Brunson’s No-Limit strategy.
So I re-raise.
Make it eight times the BB. So’s your face, Ari.
Everyone folds back around to her.
I’m all-in, she says slamming the rest of her chips in the middle.
I knew I was supposed to fold.
But I didn’t. I called and she flipped Big Slick.
She hit two pair on the flop and took all my pretty chips.
Karol’s brother was also there and spent most of the time taking Anna’s chips.
Actually, everyone spent most of the time taking Anna’s chips.
She played A6 off.
And called off practically all her chips even though the board showed
A 4 10 2 3 no flush possibilities.
Karol, inexplicably holding a 10 5o, had made the straight and bet out at the river.
I turned to Anna, who again, was instantly reaching for calling chips, and said:
“Dude, do you have a five? Cause you’re gonna need a five to win this.”
Ignoring me completely, she called the bet.
Karol turned over her 10 5 and Anna happily turned over her ace and started pulling the chips toward her.
“Uhh…no, dude. 5 makes the straight.”
“But I have the ace.”
Anna got some of her chips back when I went all in with middle pair on the board, eights – and she turned over pocket tens. Another ten hit on the turn and I was drawing dead.
But she promptly gave me back all that money and all the rest of her money on the next hand, when she called my all-in bet with A3 and ran into my AQ.
She and Lisa left and Ari, Karol, Ron Lad and I, seemingly started playing a de facto tourney for all the money left on the table.
It all ended when Ari pushed all-in. She had taken some bad beats and had just won a double up with pocket fives against Karol 35o. I figured she was on some combination of tilt and/or riding the rush, so I made a loose call with A6h. Karol also called. Then, Ron Lad came over the top all-in for three more dollars.
It’s moments like these that I wish your bets were on a yo-yo string that you could yank back at a moments notice.
But I was already in it – so, I called.
Karol called too.
The flop came something like 7 2 J. One heart. I checked, Karol checked.
The turn was the 8 of hearts. I checked, Karol checked.
The river was the 9 of hearts!
I pushed all-in. Karol folded.
Ari turned over A 10 for the straight. Ron Lad had A K, and I turned over the nut flush for all the marbles!
I had made up for half of my losses from earlier in the year…also known as Tuesday.
Yesterday, I planned to deposit the funds back into my bankroll account, but I was very busy at work and didn’t get a chance to go.
So, I still had my newfound gains lying around when Karol called to see if I wanted to do a night trip to AC. Hmm…AC…I knew I had to work all weekend and that I didn’t wanna ever drive down there in the snow, so…alright, let’s go.
But I didn’t wanna drive and my car was in Brooklyn, so we needed to rope in someone else.
My friend Sean John picked us up about an hour later and we were on our way!
Sean is, by any definition a chain smoker, so the drive down was a fairly hellish combo of breath holding and face numbing 34 degree winds hitting my face through the open window at 80-85 miles per hour. But I figure that’s the penalty one pays for last minute jaunts to casinos and I was pretty glad he did agree to drive.
After my sad, sad day at Tropicana last time, I wanted no part of it on this trip.
It turned its back on me, now I turn my back on it.
There was no way I wanted sit and wait for a table at Borgata, since I had to be back this morning, so we settled on Caesar’s.
As we walked to the poker room, I tried to convince Karol to play 2-4 limit with me.
“Nah. You have no idea how many bad beats I had on that cruise. I am never playing limit again. Ever. I shook my fist at the sky.”
Sean had stayed behind to smoke, so we got to the poker desk and I saw that there was a list for the 1-2 NL limit table, so I took another shot.
“C’mon…there’s no wait for 2-4…let’s just play until a NL seat opens.”
“No, duuuuuude. Shook.Fist.At.Sky.”
And hey, the skyward fist shake is no joke.
In law school, I lived in coat closet with only enough room for a fold out bed and as I slammed my shins into the metal bar for the four hundredth time, I titled my head to the ceiling, raised my right arm and shook it as hard as I could as I vowed never again to live in a studio.
And even year three into the living with my mom, not finding affordable housing stint, I never once wavered in my resolve.
Now here I was facing the decision, play limit alone or try NO.LIMIT.IN.A.CASINO.
“Well, let’s see how long the wait is,” I stammered nervously.
“No problem, girls. Just get your chips, I have seats for you.”
We went to the cashier’s window and Karol is suddenly channeling F-train.“Look you need to get three hundred. You can’t sit down under funded. You’ll just be bullied.”
I stood behind her in line and as she walked away with her chips, I stepped up to the Plexiglas hole.
Uhmmm…who am I kidding? I don’t care what anyone says, no way am I spending more than a hundred bucks on poker in one night.
So, I got my hundred and followed Karol to the table.
She eyed my single row of chips with that Mona Lisa no smile.
“That looks like a hundred.”
I showed her a couple of fingers.
We took two seats on opposite sides of a ten person table.
The button had just passed my seat and the dealer asked if I wanted to post. The problem with waiting, when the button has just passed you, is that you have to wait for all nine other players to go – before you can step in.
“I’ll wait,” I said.
He visibly shook his head.
He then proceeded to accidentally deal me cards and as he took back all the cards because of the misdeal, he starts blaming me.
“See, that’s what happens when people sit down and they don’t want to play. I am trained to deal the people.”
I made up my mind that I wasn’t playing a hand during his deal. I didn’t care what happened. And if I did happen to play and win, I wasn’t tipping him a plum nickel.
A couple of hands in, the guy next to me leaned over and whispered:
“Wow, you really just gonna sit here?”
Yup. I am bear. Doing nothing is in my nature.
Karol started playing a few hands later, she folded her big blind to a raise. But then called a raise out of the small blind.
The flop came 10 Q 8 rainbow.
The guy to my left, who I now call “asshole,” bet out fifteen. The guy next to him called, Karol called and the guy two to my right called.
The turn was a J.
Asshole led out for twenty.
Guy to next to him called.
Karol raised to forty.
Everyone else folded. The guy next to asshole called.
The river was a ten.
That guy bet out forty, Karol, counted out the forty and then said “all-in”
AND THE GUY CALLED!
He flipped over AK for the straight. Red Hair Mc Slow Play flips pocket eights for the full house.
Practically tripling up on her second hand.
By the time it came to me (and true to my word, I didn’t play a single hand until I had to) I limped in with A 10 of spades.
I missed the flop completely and mucked.
My next hand I limped with K 10o.
I hit top pair on the flop and checked.
This old guy bets out ten dollars.
There are two hearts out there and I don’t have any.
The turn is a blank.
I check to old dude.
He bets twenty.
The river is my 10, but it also makes the third heart.
I check to him and he bets 100.
I think and think…in the nine hands I’ve watched, he’s only played three, he bet consistently and he never had a showdown.
Happily, dick dealer’s shift was over.
Karol had left the table on a combo mission of finding Sean and walking off the high of her full house.
I get dealt A5h on the button. I limp in.
The flop comes 5 4 8 rainbow. One heart. SB bets five dollars, it folds around to me. I call.
Next card is an ace.
SB checks to me, I bet fifteen.
The river is another ACE!
He checks to me, I bet thirty.
He re-raises me to sixty.
I look at the board…uhhh…A8? Oh well…whatever, I’ll throw in the rest of my money and go play limit like I wanted.
I re-raise all-in.
He calls and shows pocket fours!
He gives me the “you better not let me catch you alone in the playground after school” look,” and asshole sympathetically nods to him: “that was an unlucky river brother.”
Asshole didn’t get that name because when I first sat down, he sniffed my face and asked
“Did you just have onions? Cause I smell onions”
Nor did he get the name because every time I limped or was BB, he raised it to 17 dollars, no, he was an asshole because would look at people’s cards as the dealer put them in the muck and then tell other people what the cards were. Or he would randomly just start guessing people’s hands out loud.
He got his comeuppance when he did his random bullshit raise and a newly short stacked Karol who lost her previous big stack when the flop came A 6 A and she went all in with her AQ only to meet the AK on the felt, re-raised him all-in with A7. The guy next to Karol, who was apparently trying to get a new twenty-something girlfriend with red hair, called her bet.
Then the asshole, lifts up his whole tray of chips and moves to like dump them in the middle and says “I’m ready to go? Do you wanna put all the chips in the middle right now?”
The guy next to Karol, just looked at him like the crazy asshole that he was.
Of course, asshole just calls Karol’s raise and sees the flop:
Q 7 7 two diamonds.
He leaps up and goes all-in for like four hundred or five hundred dollars and walks away from the table.
Everyone at that table was silently praying for Karol’s “friend” to call the asshole.
AND HE DID.
He was holding pocket tens and the asshole had KJo. Karol of course had the A 7. The turn was the Ace of diamonds and then the river was another diamond.
So, Karol tripled up with another full house and the asshole was busted out by the four flush that Karol’s friend picked up!
Oh, happy day.
I wasn’t playing any monster pots, but I picked up some small ones, by calling if I had middle pair or better. For the most part, in those first hours, I was given about as much respect as someone who was playing with their cards stuck, face out to their forehead. So, I found much profit in letting these guys bluff off their chips to me.
Then, a woman came to fill our last empty seat.
She brought the maximum buyin to the table and sat down.
“Do you want to post?” the dealer asked her.
“Yes,” she said, but then didn’t do anything.
“OK, ma’am, you gotta put the blind out there.”
“What?” she said turning to the guy next to me for assistance.
“Oh.” She posted and then when the dealer came around to her and said “your option” – she folded her cards.
“No, you don’t have to fold. You can check or raise if you want.”
She pulled her cards back and I was sure someone would raise her.
But no. She saw the flop and then folded when someone bet.
I like to call her Annie Tens.
Annie was quiet for most of the game, so when I raised with pocket tens in the SB and she was my only caller from the button, I decided to outplay her after the flop, no matter what hit.
The flop came 4 7 8, two clubs.
I bet twenty. She called in a shot.
The turn was a 9s.
She starts counting out chips. Two at a time, she makes a stack, checks it twice, pulls back two, recounts and then bets out FIFTY DOLLARS.
I looked at the board again.
OK. Does she have the straight? No way does this chick call my preflop raise without paint or an ace…maybe a set…oh well, I got outs.
Please dear lord give me a jack! My kingdom for a jack.
River is a red 8.
I check to her.
And she does that whole measuring remeasuring thing again and I am fairly certain she doesn’t have four of a kind or a full house – she’d just push all-in. What’s with the measuring?
She bets out 50 dollars again.
I bite my lip, cause who the hell knows what she’s about to turn over.
I show my tens and close my eyes.
The dealer says “is it a chop? Who’s got the winning cards.”
I hear her say: “She does.”
I open my eyes and look down at her A 10o!
I win a crazy pot with tens and eights!
Jack? I didn’t need no stinking jack.
Of course, I just wanna grab all my chips and run outta there.
That was soooo nerve wracking.
The table sits in stunned silence. The Asian guy across from me says “Wow, I would have folded those tens.”
Another player says “there was a straight out there.”
I am still sorta shaking and trying to stack all my chips, so I mumble something about open ended straight draw, pot odds, blah blah blah.
Later that night, Karol was like “you should have just said you have incredible reads on people and freaked them out.”
I know what F-train woulda said.
A few hands later, I am BB and Annie Tens is small.
She has been playing reckless since I took half her stack on that hand. She has been pushing all in practically every time. I look down at Q3o, she caps and I check.
The flops comes 5 3 5.
I lead out with five dollars, just hoping to take it down.
The turn is another three.
I bet twenty five now…figuring she’s must have some kind of pair going.
The river is a J.
I just grab a pile of chips that I had just finished stacking and throw it in…turns out to be forty five.
I flip my Q3.
SHE TURNS OVER ANOTHER A 10o.
(Yes, this is why I call her Annie Tens)
She starts shaking her head and slamming the table like I cracked her pocket aces or something.
“A 10 did it to me again.”
“You gotta let them go,” I said trying to be nice.
Annie got up and went for a walk or something.
The whole table was like “wow…I can’t believe she gave you her money with A 10 TWICE.”
“It’s not even a good hand” someone else opined.
I said nothing for fear incurring the wrath of the poker karma.
She was gone for a few rounds, and then reappeared, her hair now in a ponytail.
I limped in with KQ UTG, there were a couple of limpers behind, then a raise from this kid – who I swear all he did was raise to take down pots; if you ever looked him up, he mucked (Karol picked up pocket aces and basically just let him do all the betting. On the turn, which completed the most uncoordinated rag board you ever did see, he slams in a hundred dollar bet, finally she reraised him; he said a curse word and then folded. I did the same thing to him with pocket queens and he ended up mucking at the river.) So, Karol re-raises raiser boy, Annie Tens called, it folded around to me, I shook my fist at Karol and folded.
Raiser boy also folded.
Flop comes K Q 8. I vow to beat Karol with a shovel.
Karol leads out for fifteen.
Next card is a blank.
Karol bets out for twenty.
River is another blank.
Karol bets thirty.
Annie calls, with her last 27 dollars, Karol gets the rebate and flips her pocket jacks.
Annie Tens flips over…come on…you know…THAT’S RIGHT. A 10o.
And that’s all she wrote. She had no more money and left the table.
Everyone was sad.
Later that night when we were talking about the game, Karol said that when I won those two pots from Annie, she was looking over at me stacking my chips thinking “I want some of that A 10 action. It’s not fair that Dawn got it twice.” And then, of course, cause she’s lucky and everything always works out for her…she totally got her own piece of Annie Tens.
Everyone finished the night up. Some more than others…let’s just say that on the ride back, as I was freezing in the back seat, I turned to one of the other people in the car, let’s call her Larol and asked for a wad of hundred dollar bills to use as a blanket.
As for me, I’ve made up for my early donkey losses and actually managed to give the old bankroll some nice cushioning.
And who knows, if I keep playing solidly, before you know it, I’ll be able to buy my first gold coins for swimming in.
Friday, January 06, 2006
President Bush shrugged off a report showing weaker-than-expected job growth on Friday and declared that "the American economy heads into 2006 with a full head of steam."
Or, the phrase you're looking for is "full steam ahead."
"The suspect has basically admitted to the murder when he spoke during the voluntary questioning," the official said, adding that the suspect is a black male crew member of the Yokosuka-based US aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk.
From a commenter on Ari's site, replying to her surprise that miners are still around:
" really, in 2006 there are still miners?
Uh...not as many as there were."
What Is Your Animal Personality?
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Thursday, January 05, 2006
Matsushita Electric Industrial, the maker of Panasonic products, said Thursday it had developed a prototype of a 103-inch plasma display panel, the world's largest such screen.
Which'll either be a huge disaster or a minor disaster.
Okay, I take it back:
"As an avid watcher of the Oscars," Jon Stewart said in a statement, "I can't help but be a little disappointed with the choice."
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Or alive. I don't know, I'm not a doctor.
Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon is in hospital under anesthetic and on a respirator after suffering a "significant stroke," officials said. Powers were transferred from Sharon to Deputy Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, the officials added. Sharon is running for a third term as prime minister, and many Israelis feel he is vital to carrying forward peace negotiations with the Palestinians, but he has now suffered two strokes in less than a month.
The White House on Wednesday promised a full investigation of the West Virginia coal mine disaster that killed 12 people, and President Bush said the entire nation mourns the loss.
Oh, right. It isn't doing one.
Since Abramoff's aria should lead to the indictment and probable resignation of multiple members of Congress and high-ranking staff members, this should be one of the bigger stories of 2004. The other rival would be Iraq. In Iraq, there could be a unity government forming, and troops could begin coming home. With Abramoff, high-level Republicans could be branded as criminals. I trust the media to make the right call.
Anyone who thinks that the prosecution of public officials is less of a story here than some other country maybe, possibly, sort of getting a new government, totally missed the late nineties.
Besides, I think Kerry not being in Cambodia was the big story of 2004.
Republicans are so adorable when they try that whole misdirection thing. What next? Pulling a quarter out of our ears?
"Abramoff, Schmabramoff...I got your nose!"
"really, in 2006 there are still miners?"
"You want to come and be the governor of New York without any real experience here, but you've got experience down in Tennessee running this institution that's being investigated up and down," Mr. D'Amato said. "It doesn't sound to me that this is the time and place, not with this cloud."
Mr. D'Amato also said that Attorney General Eliot Spitzer, who is seeking the Democratic nomination for governor, had done an "excellent" job in office.
And again I ask New York Democrats: really? THIS is the party that has kicked our asses in every election since 1994?
When 12 of the 13 miners were thought to have survived the 48 hour ordeal -- or as CNN's Soledad Obrien put it -- the West Virginia mining Disaster, it was a miracle.
Headlines blazed across the New York tabloids saying so. The families praised God in the town church, calls were made and worrified family members finally were able to get a goodnight's sleep.
And then everything changed this morning.
Turns out only one of the miners survived the greatest mining disaster of the year.
According to eyewitness reports, when the family heard the real news, they cursed God -- asking "what has he done for us?"
The newspapers rewrote their headlines "miracle report turns tragic."
When I was training to be a Sunday School teacher, I had to spend three weeks observing classes taught by a veteran of the school (in yet further proof that I am playing way too much poker, I almost wrote "sweating the classes of...").
She was an elderly woman, a retired police captain, with two children. I had known her almost my whole life and she had taught me catechism when I was in fifth grade. Her youngest daughter was a few years older than I was and had fallen in with the wrong crowd in high school. By the time, I was studying to be a Sunday School teacher, her own child was in jail for participating in a gas station robbery. She and her son were estranged (today, I think it's because he was gay and she didn't approve; but then, she would only say that he was not welcome in her life until he got himself right with God.)
All that is to say, she didn't have a particularly easy or storied life; she knew hardship and suffered terrible losses. That is probably why this story has always stuck with me.
It was a few days after the first Gulf War started and one of her seventh grade students raised his hand and asked the kind of question everyone asks at some point in life: "If there's a God, how come we have wars?"
Mrs Hays -- that was her name -- leaned back in her chair and said pointedly:
"God isn't like Superman or Batman. God isn't a hero. He's God."
The class got quiet and she went to the chalkboard and wrote in all caps.
GOD IS GOD.
"Do you understand?" she said putting the chalk back on the blackboard ledge.
The teacher's pet raised her hand.
"It's like in the 'Our Father' where we say "thy will be done."
"Yes, that's right."
And so it was this morning, I was so sad for all those people, who probably need some semblance of faith, now more than ever, that one man's survival was not miracle enough for them. I wished that someone would tell them, what Mrs. Hays said to us that day.
God isn't a hero. He's God.
Chief Justice John Roberts also got a well-qualified rating from the ABA earlier this year before his nomination hearing, and was confirmed by the Senate on a 78-22 vote. Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers withdrew her nomination before the ABA released its rating of her candidacy.
Miers was sent a copy of Alito's rating, since she still serves as the White House counsel.
Oh, New York Times, you are so funny.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
You know what I really like about Veronica? When a classmate teases her about being unpopular, she tells the girl that her father is having an affair and that the girl's parents are getting divorced.
Another classmate airs the embarrassing fact that Veronica once bought boob growing cream? Veronica airs a tape at the big dance of the girl's father paying a bribe to cover up the fact that he bet on baseball.