Friday, February 24, 2006

Adrenaline Decline

The massive adrenaline overdose is finally winding down. After languishing in this pit of despair for so long, good news had the effect of sending me higher than I would normally be, hence the previous title. I was on natural smack.

I wonder if this is anything like how Mandela felt when he was finally released? (wow, someone is feeling grandiose and expansive)

My evenings and weekends are certainly going to be less relaxing for a while, that’s for sure and that’s cool. As it works out, I’m to report for work on April 3rd which means that I get to wave goodbye to this place every single day for the next four weeks or so. Thanks to every single person who threw some mojo this way, it is and has been much appreciated.

The reason it took so long, it seems, is that my soon-to-be boss was busy fighting with the higher powers about salary (which ended up in my favor, sweet). As miserable as it’s been waiting around it’s hard to be mad with news that good.

The only thing that would make it better would be if Rachel can get into a satisfactory position so we both leave here with jobs. Either way, after a miserable 2005 when every obstacle seemed to jump in our path for no apparent reason, it’s nice to finally feel the winds blowing in a favorable direction.

Thanks again to all for the vibes. Now I’ll shut up and get the fuck over it already :)

I'm on my way to Phoenix so Jesus blew up a truck just for me.... know, to celebrate and stuff. (oops, I accidentally put the pics in reverse order)

I'm way pumped and making a ton of phone calls. More after the jump...

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Thursday Night Live Blog: Thoughts as they come to me.

7:23—Home now. Dogs fed. Dinner Cooking. Bowl of tobacco ready. Let’s get this show on the road.

7:30—An announcer just said, post human interest story and as the girl went out on the ice, “This may be another Olympic moment.” Aren’t they all Olympic moments? Call me too literal, but come on. Speaking of annoying constant streams of human interest crap, do you think one day we might have an Olympic scandal where the athlete fucks up their otherwise normal and ordinary life in some way just so NBC will do a human interest piece on them so they aren’t left out?

7:37--Girl dedicates race to her late future mother-in-law while sniffling. Am I just faded when I think that's about the strangest thing I've heard in a while?

7:39--We have a news anchor lady (news anchorette?) named Anita Cochran. Every time I'm not looking and hear the commercial announcer say her name, it sounds like "I need a cock ring" and it makes me laugh. This has gone on for three years and I'm still laughing.

7:43--Now that I'm considering what I just wrote, for some reason I'm starting to wonder a bit if I need (or want) a cockring. The more I try not to, the more I wonder. You probably didn't need or want to know that. Never mind.

7:50--I had this thought last night, but what the hey...You know what is completely awesome and makes the Olympics tolerable at the same time? Break out the iPod. Insert headphones. Wait for figure skating. Turn down TV. Turn up gangsta rap (Young Jeezy is a good one to start with). Thank me later.

7:58--Trying to pay attention to typing, cooking, keeping tabs on Pauly's live-blogging (or, waiting for it to start), and the TV while trying to actually think is getting hard. I'm multi-tasking myself into an oblivious frenzy.

8:30--Where the hell did that half hour go? Rach just got home and we're gonna eat. Back after another short bit.

8:58--The addict has spoken. American Idol has begun at the Head household.

9:01--Jesus, Paula is squeezed and taped tonight.

9:03--Christ Almighty, they've begun the group singing. That's another thing I despise on this show I had forgotten about. Sooooo variety show cheese.

9:06--Good Lord (why am I invoking the names of God so much?), yet another recap.

9:10--That Taylor Hicks dude kicks fuckin ass. He should win, too bad it'll never happen. Well, not unless he gets some nice tits--and quickly. It seems that tits are the one thing that runs common through all the American Idol winners. I guess the public just likes tits....

9:17--I figured Becky would have made it past the first cut based on looks alone. Not that I'm unhappy at the accurate cut...just suprised. And why do we have to hear a person re-sing what was previously a suck performance?

9:23--Looks like mini-BadBlood, Chris, is safe for another week. Quite good.

9:30--Byby Patrick. I'm sad we won't see more of atomic collagen mom, even though it's another accurate judgement. What the fuck he was thinking when he chose to sing Melissa Etheridge I will never know.

9:32--Thirty-four minutes. The Norhern Bath Tissue of television. I'd say that's pretty accurate considering the show makes me feel like an ass that just got wiped. Heehee...I have no idea if that's a patently bad or good thing, but goddamn it makes me laugh.

9:41--Carolina Kostner from Italy just skated. Too bad the performance wasn't any better than other Costner's.

9:52--Here's one of my referrer's tonight--Look upon the youth and rejoice, people.

9:56--Visa asks us, "What does it take to be an Olympic athlete?" I'll take that one for free, Alex. Money. And some drugs. Wait, I mean "What is money and what are drugs"

10:07--Damn this is fun. Here's another referrer. Read the Stupid, Smelly, Hippies post and rejoice. Funniest . Post. Ever.

10:17--Rachel just informed me, via Freakenomics, that Cody was the #1 low income name. Now tell me this guy isn't real, bitches :) (while I realize the picture is not him, I believe it has the simple explanation of there being a bit of a weight problem, as in "I'm abnormally embarrased by it", behind the scenes)

10:30--Word to the Wheaton, ya'll. Way up on the chipcount. Thank God Pauly keeps us up to date.

10:50--Did I just lose time? Sorry bout that--NBC-induced coma. Kind of like the nods from doing too much herion. Where was I?

10:54--Aww, fuckit, I think I'll just close up shop for the night. Gonna chill and watch The Boondocks. Gaze upon this waste to time and virtual space and rejoice.


What a day. It’s just nothing but annoying when work gets in the way of nonsensical blogging activity. A new phone uplift project is ramping up which means more days like this over the next month.


Do you like to watch American Idol but can’t stand watching American Idol? Me too. There’s no good explanation why it took me so damn long to do this, but due to extended hours yesterday I had to record the show for Rachel who is the AI addict in the house. DVR’d is the only way to watch the show. We didn’t start watching until the show ended at 9 PM, and after fast-forwarding through all of the fabulous and innovative Ford commercials and informative recapping, the show wrapped at 9:50. That’s 70 full minutes of nothing but pure fluffy SHITE. Clouds and Northern Bath Tissue have nothing on these folks, and looking back at all of the times I’ve actually sat through show it makes me wonder why I’m not suffering from a Coma of No Return.

It is fun to watch and expunge any snark that may have built up throughout the day, though.

Who else noticed after the first guy sang when they flashed to his parents? Holy atomic collagen bomb, Batman! Trust me, it’s worth finding the show just to witness the horror. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Waitaminute, yes I have….on the Discovery Channel—Plastic Surgery: Before and After and Horribly Awry. Plus, it’s on again tonight! I’m tying to decide between watching again and drinking all of the cleaning products in the house.


Tonight is going to be Thursday Evening Live Blog: Thoughts as They Come To Me, so stay tuned. Guaranteed to be the heezy or the worst thing you’ve ever read. Ironically, these guarantees may actually be the same thing.

Kind of like American Idol. Extra Wunderbar.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Linking to Goodness

I’m trying to catch up on my missed Bloglines reading and holy hell there’s some good pokery content out there.

Scurvy’s post, Know Thy Equity, was awesome even though I made my way through it at approximately the speed of a small child learning to read. Always huge portions of pokery goodness. Posts that make you to think are always a great thing, unlike most of the empty drivel spewed here. Reading here just might make you dumber. Be careful is all I’m saying. Much like the high-five, no thorough scientific studies have been done on the effects of blog silliness.

The innovative and groundbreaking work just keeps on coming. (Hey, if Ford can say it with a straight face, then so can I)

Then there’s Nerd, my personal SnG Jesus. His recent posts have an underlying tone of surliness and “I’m lovin’ it” (just had a McD’s sausage and egg and I can’t not say it). I’m also pumped that he is willing to give away nuggets from his massive warehouse of SnG’s knowledge at such a cheap price. I just hope he still wants to do it when I finally get the time. If you don’t know about Nerd (and I can’t imagine how such a thing would be possible), get over and start going through the archives to counteract some of the stupidity on these here pages.

DoubleAs. I don’t really need to say anymore. His pages constantly drip with epic amounts of advanced knowledge.

And of course, the best uber-posting still springs forth from the diminutive Blogfather. The last couple have been especially good and destroyed copious amounts of my already declining productivity.

There you are. I figure if I’m not writing about poker myself I should be linking to those who are and at least try to maintain the appearance of a poker blog until that future day when I decide to start pontificating about the game again.


Thanks for all of the comments on the last post dealing with my pansy-assedness concerning kids. It’s been kind of fun to think about, at least to the extent that I’m trying to come up with t-shirt ideas for when the day comes. Something along the lines of, “I knocked up my wife and all I got was this stupid kid” (only to be worn till the kid can read) Or how about this one for the kid? “Loin Fruit.” or “Fruit of the Loins”. I can see the nasty looks I’ll be getting already.

Any and all ideas for other t-shirts welcome any time.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Scared Bejesus

Four days away, guess I oughta write something, eh?

Wallowing in alternating pools of self-pity, anger, and anxiety, while normally loads of fun, just can’t be sustained. So I’m out of the pool and ready to dry off, at least until the urge to swim takes hold again. Hmm, it appears I’m a four year-old. I did get a little something accomplished, spending approximately two solid days researching a couple of investments. Even if they don’t pan out I can at least say that I learned quite a bit.

Oh yeah, and Rachel scared the living and the dead bejesus out of me this weekend.

I was bitching about other people’s little shitheads at the time. Or maybe I was yelling at the dumb parents of little shitheads on the television, I forget. Regardless, I had sounded off another round of a phrase often heard around the house, “See? Yet another reason why kids are a bad idea.” I forget now exactly why the hell I said it. I think it was news of some demon seed kid burning down a school and then stabbing the family dog to death while flipping off his parents and teabagging his neighbor. Or something like that. You know what I mean.

“I think the urge to have you knock me up is getting bigger.”

Now, never let it be said that I don’t love doing all the knocking that is humanly possible. It’s the “up” part that is utterly frightening. I find “boots” to be infinitely preferable to “up.”

“Really? REALLY? For realies and for trulies? Get out of here. You’re just messing with me.”

The look confirmed that the biological clock was indeed in the first stages of rising from what I had previously hoped was a permanent state of dormancy. Ruh-Roh.

You know that sound you make when you burn yourself? That sound where you’re sucking air through clenched jaw with an attractive grimace on your face? Yep, that was about all I could do at that point.

There aren’t too many things that frighten me. Snakes have the power to render me vaginafied, but that’s about it, unless talks about pregnancy begin. If that’s the case, give me a snake. Kids are an exponential degree more frightening, and we really don’t mix too well at all. Typically they’re rendered speechless at the sheer size and odd shape of my head. I’m frightened of their sheer lack of size, their constant toddling and whatnot, the incessant noise, and sometimes, the odd size and shape of their head, as well.

Kids and I are the definition of awkward. Lot’s of blinking and not much talking, just ask my 6 month-old nephew.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a small up-tick.”

I appreciated her saying so, but I still made the noise a couple more times for good measure. I don’t feel like my life is together yet, why compound the difficulty? Leave the lovely degenerate lifestyle behind? Pfft. Not yet. Maybe later. Just not yet.

It will happen sooner or later, I’m pretty sure of that. After all, her happiness is my ultimate concern, and if that means spawning our own little shitheads then so be it. Just let it be on the official record that I’m going to have to approach that particular ledge with some serious baby steps and cajoling, not unlike the cajoling necessary to get me off of the diving board for the first time.

See? Told you I was a four year-old. A four year-old that loves knocking.