Oh God, a meme

It is I. He, now known as “used to write a poker blog, sort of”.

The Head. Given leave to be a freak in new ways.

I wonder often as to why I have not been definitively shunned by the PoBlo Community* and forced to wander alone in the electronic wilderness searching for a new home given that any pretense to writing more than twice a year on the subject of poker is completely and utterly gone for the foreseeable future.

Color me happy. I love my degenerate, ghey pals.

*(sounds just as unwieldy as “poker blogging community”, but with a spiffy pop-PR veneer. Perhaps we can get a jump on things and create our own UN Habitat for Sustained Development before we’re all forced into enclaves with people we hate. We now have the name!)

As an aside, another thing I wonder about is why some (including myself) are so inclined to toss out personal “little known things” to the electronic masses. I hope it’s something deeper and more complex than abject narcissism, because if that’s true I’m gonna be kind of sad. I didn’t say I’d stop. I just said it would make me sad. Any further posts of mine you might read would simply have to be with the knowledge that I was sniffing and crying rivulets while compulsively typing like a heroin-addicted baboon with intimate knowledge of what he is. A horrifying thought, to be sure.

Or, Maudie (9th degree tagging professional) could be the NSA trying to build a psychological profile on me for future exploitation. Whatever the case, there seems to be some sense of “do I really want to do this?” that hangs about. Not that such thoughts ever stopped me before. I’m just sayin’.

Here are some little known things about me for your voyeuristic pleasure—

1. I’m black. I know, I look white. You’ll just have to trust me.
2. I’m constantly looking to squeegee my third eye. However you want to take that is fine with me. (if either way is true, does that count as two? I always have been an overachiever—oops, there’s three)
3. I’m one of those people, at least in part. I looked around one day and realized I had two miniature dogs with names beginning in the same letter like some suburbanite cutesy mushhead. Simon and Stella, who I treat for the most part like actual kids and refer to them as such at least half of the time. I should beat myself up.
4. I crapped my pants once in kindergarten. Full on. I still can’t talk very much about it. Although, nowadays I project supreme “I won’t soil myself” confidence by going full-time commando (dammit, that’s two again).
5. I still listen to Natalie Merchant’s Tigerlily at least twice a year. It’s some weird biomusicalogical clock thing. Why am I telling you people this?
6. I think Hitler was just misunderstood. Okay, that’s a dirty lie. I just wanted to get your mind off of #5 for a second.
7. I’m of the mind that it would be much better to be deaf than it would be to be blind. I could live without hearing much easier than I could without books. Seriously, the absence of books would be a devastating blow.

I'm terrible at these games.

Next Up—

Change100
Facty (who needs to be tagged multiple times, as she is missed)
Derek
Pauly (just because it will probably annoy him)

And a Happy Midlife Crisis to Ignatious, the biggest little guy evar.