Lazy Saturday

First things first...head over and catch up with Glyphic if you haven't already. I don't fit the necessary profile, but if you know or are someone that does fit, please lend him a hand.

I feel bad for not linking that yesterday when I had planned, but I spent the entire day wallowing in self pity while the rest of the world has problems of much greater magnitude.

I'm an ass. What's new?

Friday was entirely wasted as I stared at the phone trying using my formidable force of will to make it sound off with good news. It didn't. However, it didn't sound off with bad news either, leaving me with another weekend of stressed out limbo to deal with. Not knowing is truly a special brand of psychological torture. I hate it because the absence of knowledge about where one stands tends to render a person actionless, not knowing which direction to go. The stasis created feels like small death.

I'm trying not to overstress. Purgatory within purgatory. It will happen the way it's supposed to, or at least that's what I'm trying to believe at the moment. This, along with reading the variety of other unfortunate circumstances happening all around, has me questioning my much beloved concept of destiny. More specifically, the concept of just how much control I have over it. I may try to churn out some thoughts on that later since I'm determined to dedicate the rest of my day to less serious pursuits.

I figure the best way accomplish said pursuits is to put some money down on swingy college hoops and just zone out. TV=the greatest opiate of them all.

Last night brought me 4 for 5 on my progressive NBA parlay, which paid a reasonable 3/1, so I'm happy. I'm rolling that over today and taking Duke -6.5 and a twelve game progressive parlay using my patent-pending dumb girl betting strategy, a combination of who is favored and how heavily plus what I know about who has the prettiest uniforms.

It's cold outside, but the inside of the Head household is warm with cocktails and smoke. As the day progresses, and after a proper fading, I may hit these pages with some more nonsense. Best of luck to everyone in their weekend degenerate endeavors.

Sweet Action

Okay, so, not so much with the poker lately. I know, its lame, this is supposed to be a poker blog, blah, blah, blah. Trust me, I want to play but it’s the same old song and dance. I only have snatches of time here and there, and by the time I get home in the evening I’m in no kind of mental shape to play. I stay disciplined and don’t play so my bankroll won’t bleed into nothingness. Of course, doing this causes more rust development on the debatably shiny outer shell of my game, but for me the trade-off is okay. In my case it’s easier to knock off a bit of rust than summon the mental fortitude necessary to rebuild a roll that was decimated due to something preventable.

So where does that leave me? Am I doomed to walk the clean, antiseptic, fluorescently lit hallways of a life without degenerate activity?

I think not.

Thanks to the ever-developing and omnipresent In-Tar-Web I am able to keep my degenerate badge by participating in the other quasi-legal activities it makes available to me.

Namely, sports betting. Oh yeah.

I’ve never hated sports, per se, it’s just that my wide variety of other interests always seem to trump them. However, during the last two weeks I have caught myself multiple times in Kramer-esque body seizures, prognosticating about events of which I have no real knowledge, and declaring, “That’s some sweet action!” I have no idea whether the action is really that sweet or not. Most likely it’s not. But I do love saying it. A lot.

In fact, I’m on the action drip at this very moment. I have a 2-team parlay going on Miami and Sacramento. Looking forward to the games (which I may not even watch) is enough to keep me satiated all day. It’s like the nicotine patch. Just replace nicotine with “Sweet Action.” Sweet passive gambooooling action, yes sir.

Did I mention I’m a fan of Let it Ride?

All of these thoughts coalesced this morning while I was moving funds around and planning wild and baseless betting strategies. When I actually do the betting, it’s normally on more solid ground, but it sure is fun to screw around off the beaten path. Poker is still my game, and thankfully I can summon enough intelligence on a regular basis to keep it that way since it is truly the +EV choice for the gambler who cares, but I believe my seriousness about the game will only be to a certain point. I say this because of emotional tilt factors that come into play when I pass that invisible line, and it’s this knowledge which prompts me to declare the following reevaluation. I’m a poker player, yes, but I’m mostly just a guy who likes to gamble. While sports betting may or may not be a good thing EV-wise, it has helped recapture the sense that there are plenty of things out there over which I have no control, things that worrying and tilting won’t help. In regards to poker this is one of the best reminders I could have come across. Given my personal proclivity towards tilt I think it will only help in the long run.

Now that is some sweet action.

Update: Big oops on that Miami bet. What the fuck was I thinking? What a tard I am.

Doodie Melange

With work running me ragged over the last two days I’m finding it difficult to focus enough to churn out a decent post (although whether any of the posts here qualify as “decent” or “good” is infinitely debatable), so bear with me and today’s scattered mélange of doodie.

--If the big telcos are actually successful in implementing their new “Tiered Internet” model and Congress doesn’t have enough sense to help enforce network neutrality I think I’m just going to completely freak the hell out. As if that’s anything new. I’m always freaking out about something. The linked article above is a nice and simplified version of what’s happening and is a good place to start learning of the issue. And yes, everyone should learn about it because it will affect everyone very quickly if this starts.

--There should be a push to ban teleconferences. Certainly they are necessary sometimes, and god help me, beneficial in rare instances. However, you should have to show cause. I could definitely get on board with that piece of bureaucracy and would lay money that by cutting most teleconferences businesses would actually see a productivity increase along with a corresponding decrease in suicide by office equipment. I think it goes without saying that I have no hard numbers to back up this assertion. I’m thinking outside the box! Give me some kudos! (See what corporate life is doing to me ?! )

--It’s Wednesday, so that means that the office is buzzing with talk of the huge lottery jackpot tonight. Of course, the reigning question is “What would you do with it all if you won?” Here are some answers from real people that actually breathe:

• “I would get liposuction”—If this is your number one goal when you have over 100 million, well…..shit, I can’t think of anything snarky to say to that. It’s really just fuckin’ depressing.
• “I would buy a big place out in the country”—Seems innocuous does it not? When asked “In the country where?” the response was, “Here!” Where am I located currently? That’s right, say it with me, EGADS. Again, too sad for snark.
• “I would go to Mexico”—This one piqued my interest as this is a potentially good idea. I began mentally running over the list of optimal locations for someone with loads of cash until I was interrupted by the follow-up, “If I lived there would I have to learn Spanish? That’s what they speak there, right?”
• When the question was put to me, I was proud of my HR inappropriate answer, “I would have some people killed, I think.” It’s fun watching as they struggle to find a way to respond.

--In one of Al’s recent posts, one of the last pictures featured The Shocker (it’s the one at the bottom captioned “two in the pink, one in the stink” if you don’t know what the hell that is). Lo and behold, one of the commercials for the nightly news plugged an expose they were going to be running about Wichita State Shockers fans. They showed pictured of these fans, composed of parents, kids, old folks and young, cheerleading squads, etc. in pictures giving holding The Shocker hand gesture. The lead-in? Fan support or obscene gesture? We’ll tell you at 9. I love FOX news. Nothing better than scads of bible-belters being unintentionally obscene on film. I could almost hear the cries on the Wichita wind last night….”Oh, I feel so dirty now” or, in the patented denial fashion ala my parents, “I can’t believe they took that and made it dirty.” Good times.

Duty calls, so I must stop the doodie here. Talk at ya tomorrow.

No Resignation

It happens every Tuesday. I fill an inane weekly update slide and then trudge my way into the meeting to present. It’s not really presenting because all that happens is I stand and read a couple of bits of info to people who could care less and could simply read it for themselves but for some goddamn reason require me to be there anyway.

******************

I was in the fourth grade when I first came across (or perhaps it was “gave any real thought to”) the concept of idealism. My teacher was of the type that happened to be a constant source for the wellspring of derisive 4^th-grade comedy gold. She had the Asia of moles on her right cheek, which provoked intense speculation from all of us deep-thinking 9-year olds.

“I wonder if it hurts?”

“I bet if she tried she could make it grow at will.”

“If you put seahorses and the little people from Gulliver’s Travels (Lilliputians?) on her mole as if it were a continent, who would win the war for control of it?”

That last one was mine. What a gem it was, and what a shame that none of the other 4^th-graders knew dick about Gulliver or his famous travels. A year later and a year more crude, we would opine about the possibility that might be a giant brown second clit and what would happen if it were actually true and someone slapped her. If 10-year old boys can make themselves shudder, it’s got to be pretty bad. Christ, I’m off on a tangent already.

The subject was history but I couldn’t say exactly what subject within that subject was being discussed. One of us asked the typical “Why don’t we just…(insert topical question)….then?” favored by naïve young folks learning about the world and its history. Her face suddenly took on a very resigned and tired look. She informed us that such ideas were nice and pretty and typical of young folks such as ourselves, and that we should try and enjoy it because it would go away in short order. She told us that when we got older we would lose the idealistic steam that drove us, and looking at her face right then I didn’t have any ammunition to fight the assertion.

Two things happened in that moment. I vowed to begin making fun of her as little as possible and hopefully not at all, because her look stirred feelings of pity. I didn’t get all the way to my first goal, but my intergroup jabs at her expense were drastically reduced. .My second vow was to never have that kind of resigned look on my face. At its core, her look was one of someone who was beaten and would not be returning, and it chilled me to the bone. I saw it on my father’s face and on my mother’s. After seeing the look that day for what it was, the occasion was rare that I could spot someone without it.

*************

I never recognized until recently that every time I’m plodding my way into that weekly meeting I think (if only very briefly) of that moment and I feel the same now as I did way back then. I don’t ever want to have that look. I must refuse to take on that look as others continually try and thrust it upon me. As all of the high and mighty sat around sucking each others cocks, trying to ignore the serf in the room, and agonizing over whether the guides we developed were simple enough for their intended readers, I finally interjected.

“Dumbing these down any more would require a lobotomy. Perhaps I should call and make some appointments? No?”

A great deal of silence and blinking followed me as I made my exit. There will be no resignation today. Not today. Not any day.

Save BG Poster

I admit it. I didn't have all that much to do this morning.

Colons and Reposting

Save BG’s colon! I sent mine through FullTilt (Bonus Code:HHEAD, can’t lose an opportunity to shill:)). BG is one of the best bloggers out there, and is someone who constantly inspires me to write better. The phrase “ripped him a new one” keeps coming to mind but it’s too early to try and make a joke out of it, so just hit the transfer button and show the guy some love.

The post below is one I wrote Saturday morning when I woke up, and I swear I posted it, but when I happened to look yesterday after posting it wasn’t there. So the question is, did it post and disappear or did I never post it to begin with?

If it is duplication, my apologies.

***************

Four Cox vans, a fire rescue truck, and an ambulance are all parked in a disorganized cluster at 11 PM on a Friday…..

Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, and I suppose in a sense, it is. It’s just another Friday night at Casa de Head.

I was coming off of a winning multi-table session at the micro-limits and just surfing the wave of my buzz. I couldn’t play any more poker, at least for a bit because the pervs on Dateline were holding my attention and Showtime boxing was about to start. Mrs. Head was pre-scouting rentals and houses in Phoenix should we get some good news this week, and I’m pretty happy about that because it means she’s not on Amazon or Ebay or OverStock actually spending (that sentence sounds worse than the reality; she rarely buys anything, but I worry about spending sprees of debauched, Dionysian nature anyway). Then our connection goes kaput.

After doing all of the usual checks to make sure the problem isn’t my modem, router, or any of the PC’s, I call and evidently there’s a service outage in my area and techs have been dispatched. An hour goes by, then two. After the three hour mark comes and goes, I start pacing. This hasn’t happened in over two years, and even when it happened previously the connection was back up in less than a half hour. It really begins hitting home just how dependant I am on this intarweb thingy. It feels like I’m about to come out of my skin. I need info, any info, and I need it now. Who cares how useless it is? I need to be connected. Wired. Plugged in. Switched on.

Of course, the problem is right next to our house. I blame that loud, skateboarding 14-year old across the street. That’s where the ambulance is parked. I also indirectly blame our 55” TV. It seems like ever since we bought that thing the universe decided to run a new season of real life drama right outside of our house. Tuning in simply requires that we look out the window. The only problem is that we can’t turn it off, can’t change the channel, and our programming schedule seems to be perpetually lost in the mail so we never know what is coming or when.

The EMT’s head into the duplex across and up the street and my attention is, for the moment, rapt. What did that loud little fucker do? Earlier I was outside retrieving the last of the groceries from the car while he skated around shouting unintelligible teenager-ese, obviously in an effort to impress some hot phantom neighbor girl that doesn’t exist. Standing there holding the grocery bags I shot him a look that said I would like nothing better than to knock all of his teeth out and then use them as hybrid voodoo bones that would reveal to me the most painful way to break his hands and feet. He saw the look and scooted back inside, but as it is with most teenagers having little to do and even less brains, the fear was likely short lived. So begins my first theory. The kid decided to vandalize something on the pole in an effort to get back at all of the adults in the world who despise his kind, me in particular.

The EMT’s came out of the house empty-handed and all I could see were visions of my tax dollars being lit on fire and then shat on. I can see that damn kid peeking out the window and I want to go take the eventual and unseen cost of this out of his ass right now. No installment plan, no points, balance due upon receipt. I finally resign by giving the finger to events I cannot control and trudge up to bed. Emergency lights flashing through my bedroom windows keep me awake while Stephen King tries yet again to impart lessons on writing, and I drift off coming up with different ass-kicking scenarios should I wake up and find that I’m still not connected. Wired. Plugged in. Switched on. It’s a big world and I need access to it without actually going out in it.

I need to get that connection back.

What a weekend

What a completely sports-sodden weekend it was. Many thanks to Mrs. Head for not stabbing me in the throat because of it.

I decided to take my first run ever at sports betting this weekend. First and foremost, let me begin by saying that (other than UFC) my knowledge of sports, especially football, would fill about 4 thimbles on a good day and this was reflected in my losing Super Bowl bet (I should have know better than to go against a team backed by Gene’s furious passion).

I allotted myself a C-note to play with for the weekend as this would be my first foray, and things began very well on Friday night with the UFC fights. I went 4/5 on my picks, my only loss being the Couture/Liddell fight. I accept full responsibility for that one in betting on who I wanted to win rather than who I knew would win. UFC fans are likely wondering just how or why in the hell I bet against Frank Mir. All I can say is this: Never underestimate a cream-puff with loads of desire. Mir has been out for a long time due to a bad motorcycle accident. Couple that with the pressure of everyone thinking he is a lock and you have the makings of an upset. You could see it on his face when he walked into the Octagon—he wasn’t sure of himself and looked like he was more concerned about taking care of his new titanium leg. That one netted me a nice profit.

Sunday brought a 5-Team basketball parlay that I hit nicely and I felt good going into the Super Bowl. Again, just like the Couture/Liddell fight, I went against the team that I just knew would win in an effort to gain some extra cash on the +150 line. Chalk that one up to simple greed seeing as how I had absolutely no prior emotional investment in either side. Lesson learned.

Please take this opportunity to once again ingest a gigantic grain of salt because I’m about to comment on a game I don’t really know too much about.

The Super Bowl officiating seemed awfully one-sided, especially giving the Steelers that first TD. Of course, Seattle fucked up plenty on their own, but they were also getting the worst of the calls as the game progressed. It seemed an awful lot like the ref’s were given a stern talking to prior to game time about the importance of The Bus’s impending retirement. If I was actually a Seattle fan, I imagine that I would be pretty hot under the collar today. As it stands, I’m simply a bit miffed because I lost my bet.

The Stones looked like a bunch of prancing corpses on the stage, but thanks to an extended pause on the DVR while preparing dinner I was able to fast-forward through most of it. The only commercial that really came out as a winner, IMO, was the Fed-Ex caveman commercial—pure gold. Again, I was disappointed to see Pepsi go the lame MTV pop-culture route this year even though I’m not surprised. Brown and Bubbly sounds a lot like a Hot Karl gone awry to me. What the hell was running through the pea-brains that approved that idea? Monkey and Jackasses deserve an honorable mention, but I didn’t think it was fantastic. I give the Super Bowl this year a solid C-. While such a grade is still a disappointment, it’s a sharp uptick from the Z- I would give for last years dismal event.

I laid a lot of bets this weekend and came out with $25 profit. Not bad for a guy who uses the sports betting logic of a girl, eh?