I haven't blogged in a while, mostly because I still don't have anything worthwhile to say. But as always, that's never stopped me before....
-- Someday, when I'm finally named king, my first decree will be to abolish the pointless ritual of saying "bless you" after someone sneezes. I'm not exactly sure why this bothers me so much, but it does. Why the fuck is it my responsibility to wish good fortunes upon someone just because they have a compulsive explosion of air from their lungs through their nose? So what if their nasal mucosa is being irritated by foreign particles? That's no reason for me to wish godly favors upon them. I hardly think a sneeze is worth good tidings of any sort. Really, shouldn't we be cursing people who sneeze near us? After all, they're spreading their unwanted germs through the air and increasing the chances that we'll get sick. Anyway, as soon as everyone agrees that I'm king, no more of that nonsense.
-- My second decree will be the introduction of a new, world holiday- Boobies Day! Damn straight. There is not nearly enough random, female nudity in our lives. Not even close. Seriously, what is with women and their irrational insistence on always wearing clothes? Do they not see how lame life is? Do they not understand how much cooler our lives would be if they would just flash a little nip every once in a while? Just think of how much better this world would be if women were prone to public disrobing. Surely, it would end world hunger. It would definitely end road rage. In all likely hood, we would have peace on earth.
The basics of Boobies Day is this- every Boobies Day (which btw would be April 25th), women 21 years or older would be required by law to flash any man who requests it of them. Basically it would be like Mardi Gras, only without the beads. You see, originally I was going to have Topless Day, where all women would be required, by law mind you, to walk around topless. Well, apparently not everyone is keen on this idea. Several of my soon-to-be subjects have pointed out to me that some women (like grandmas and Rosie O'Donnell) really should stay clothed. Fair enough. So instead, Boobies Day will allow us guys to pick and choose the boobies to be displayed. For those of you who aren't thrilled with this decree- well too fucking bad! I'm the one that's going to be named King soon, so just deal.
-- My third decree- all women are henceforth bisexual. Nothings really changed there, except that women can no longer pretend that they're not down with chicks. It's OK ladies, we're totally cool with it. Honest. So just stop pretending otherwise.
-- Damn it's going to be cool when I'm king.
-- I hate bank customers. You probably know this already. They just won't fucking shut up. Ever. All day long, it's weather this, and sports that. It's fuck Bush and fuck Obama all damn day. Lately though, it's their non-stop talk about global warming that's tempting me to end it all with a quick jab of a pen to my skull. Now, I don't have a dog in the global warming fight. Could be true. Could be a lie. I don't know, nor do I really care. I plan on dying at some point in the next seventy years either way. Really, I'll just go with whatever the Black Tower has to say about it. The customers I help every day though, they know the truth with all certainty. Of course, 99% of them are just spouting whatever the talking heads they listen to say. Whatever. All that is fine. What really gets me though is that no matter who's yapping at me about global warming, and no matter what side their on, they'll always point to that day's weather as proof that their belief is right. If it's warm, the dolt I'm helping will tell me, "And they say global warming isn't real." If it's cold, the person will say, "So much for global warming. It's freezing out there." Really? Am I to believe that these people actually think that the weather in Lakewood Colorado on any given day is proof that global warming is or isn't real? Really?
One quick jab and it'll all be over.
-- I have some news on the book front. I recently e-mailed amazon to inquire about making the Dagger of Lokin available for download on the Kindle. I sent them a few chapters to sample and asked what the process would be. In their reply, Amazon informed me that they would indeed accept the DoL for the kindle, so long as I was willing to pay $2.99 every time someone downloaded the book. Based on the poor quality of the writing, Amazon felt that not only should the book be free for download, but that I should have to pay the customer for downloading and suffering through it. Bummer.
-- I only have two weeks left to finish the prologue for the Mace of Dominion, and I don't have a single sentence of it written yet. There is nothing more terrifying than a blank piece of paper.
-- I hate getting older. I'm only 32 and yet I'm already seeing the signs. My memory is already starting to slip. For instance, I seem to recall vowing to cut back on drinking. Only I'm not sure I really did. My memory of it is just so hazy....
-- Someday, when I am named King of the world, I will appoint someone witty and charming to write my blogs for me, so that none of you have to suffer through this crap again. Hold on peeps, your plight is almost finished.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Random Thoughts (12-13-09)
I haven't blogged in a while, mostly because I'm lazy. That and I really don't have much to say. Let's see if I can't scrape a few thoughts out of the empty abyss that is my mind.
-- I realize that I'm the boy who cried wolf on this, but I have to warn you- the donks are going to get destroyed today. The colts will bitchslap them. It's going to be ugly. I know I say this every week no matter who the donks are playing, but this week I mean it. The colts will win by at least two tds. Probably three. Why am I so sure? Because of the morons I help at the bank, that's why. All week, all I heard from the customers was how the donks were going to upset the colts. Not one donks fan said they'd lose. Everyone in donks land thinks that the orange and blue will actually win. Even my naysaying powers can't overcome that kind of jinx. The donks are screwed.
-- Steph dragged me to an X-mas party last weekend hosted by one of her coworkers, a gig I didn't want any part of. Being that I'm socially awkward and a tool, going to a party to meet a bunch of Steph's coworkers was the last thing I wanted to do that night. For the most part, the party was dreadful, as I spent most of the night mumbling greetings and staring into my glass-- you know, being myself.
Have you ever seen the movie "The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training"? A classic. You really should rent it. There's a scene in the opening of the movie where the kids of the baseball team teach a mentally-challenged groundskeeper how to say "hello", "how are you?", and "nice to meet you", all so that they can deceive their parents into believing that they have a coach who will be with them on their upcoming road trip. Anyway, I realized at the party that night that I'm that guy. I'm the mentally-challenged, fake coach. I mutter the three phrases that I've memorized and that's it. After that I just smile and get destroyed drunk. Poor Steph. It's a wonder why she even brings me. She should just hire a male escort next time.
My toolish behavior aside, the party was quite interesting. The hosts were a doctor and his husband, and four of the doctor's kids. The kids were all on drink duty, making sure that no one had an empty glass, and they did a fantastic job. I plowed through so many Singapore Slings that they ran out of it about a half hour after I arrived. From there it was on to wine, which just about dropped me to the floor. Those kids can really push the drinks.
The highlight though were the lesbians. One of Steph's coworkers is a hottie lesbian, and she brought her girlfriend with her to the party. At first the two just sat together, chatting and drinking. Eventually though they started holding hands and petting each other, and I couldn't have been more enthralled. It's no secret that I'm into lesbians, but even I didn't realize I was that into them. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them, and all they were doing was snuggling. I spent the whole night trying to fight off a stiffy. I told my penis, "it's not polite to point." And he said, "Stop staring and I'll stop pointing." Touche, penis. Touche.
-- Have you seen the latest cover of golfer's digest? Hilarious.
-- I realize that I'm the boy who cried wolf on this, but I have to warn you- the donks are going to get destroyed today. The colts will bitchslap them. It's going to be ugly. I know I say this every week no matter who the donks are playing, but this week I mean it. The colts will win by at least two tds. Probably three. Why am I so sure? Because of the morons I help at the bank, that's why. All week, all I heard from the customers was how the donks were going to upset the colts. Not one donks fan said they'd lose. Everyone in donks land thinks that the orange and blue will actually win. Even my naysaying powers can't overcome that kind of jinx. The donks are screwed.
-- Steph dragged me to an X-mas party last weekend hosted by one of her coworkers, a gig I didn't want any part of. Being that I'm socially awkward and a tool, going to a party to meet a bunch of Steph's coworkers was the last thing I wanted to do that night. For the most part, the party was dreadful, as I spent most of the night mumbling greetings and staring into my glass-- you know, being myself.
Have you ever seen the movie "The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training"? A classic. You really should rent it. There's a scene in the opening of the movie where the kids of the baseball team teach a mentally-challenged groundskeeper how to say "hello", "how are you?", and "nice to meet you", all so that they can deceive their parents into believing that they have a coach who will be with them on their upcoming road trip. Anyway, I realized at the party that night that I'm that guy. I'm the mentally-challenged, fake coach. I mutter the three phrases that I've memorized and that's it. After that I just smile and get destroyed drunk. Poor Steph. It's a wonder why she even brings me. She should just hire a male escort next time.
My toolish behavior aside, the party was quite interesting. The hosts were a doctor and his husband, and four of the doctor's kids. The kids were all on drink duty, making sure that no one had an empty glass, and they did a fantastic job. I plowed through so many Singapore Slings that they ran out of it about a half hour after I arrived. From there it was on to wine, which just about dropped me to the floor. Those kids can really push the drinks.
The highlight though were the lesbians. One of Steph's coworkers is a hottie lesbian, and she brought her girlfriend with her to the party. At first the two just sat together, chatting and drinking. Eventually though they started holding hands and petting each other, and I couldn't have been more enthralled. It's no secret that I'm into lesbians, but even I didn't realize I was that into them. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them, and all they were doing was snuggling. I spent the whole night trying to fight off a stiffy. I told my penis, "it's not polite to point." And he said, "Stop staring and I'll stop pointing." Touche, penis. Touche.
-- Have you seen the latest cover of golfer's digest? Hilarious.
-- The bank is short about three tellers right now, so we've been going through the interview process for the last few weeks, trying to bring in a few more people. One day while I was in the vault with my supervisor Paula, she told me that one of the applicants mentioned that he was a writer during his interview. He'd written a novel, but it was as yet unpublished. She told me that they probably wouldn't hire him, since they already "have one of those." What I'm wondering though is- how many bank tellers are there in the world who are unpublished authors? Is this what happens to unpublished writers? They become bank tellers? I think it's a sign. I'm never going to be published. For the crime of writing such a terrible book, I've been sentenced to the purgatory of being a bank teller. Who knew?
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I love you, Hot Bartenders/ I Hate You, Denver Broncos
What is it about hot bartenders that is so damn cool?
Just the other night, Z-man and I hit up the Larimer Lounge to check out a band called Electric Six. Good times, they were. Loud music, lots of booze, and girls shaking their asses always makes for a swell time.
The bartenders at the Lounge that night were top shelf. Or maybe I just had lust-goggles on. It's hard to tell. There's just something about women leaning over the bar across from me, flashing their A through Ds against a backdrop of liquor bottles and asking "What would you like?" that gets this tool's ratchet clanked. That's customer service at its finest, peeps.
Zach and I were greatly entertained by the eye candy working the bar, as well as the thought of ordering overtly, sexually-named drinks from them. The running joke of the evening was to say, "When she asked me what I wanted, I told her a blow job. And she brought me a drink!"
Zach and I did variations of this all night long. It never once got old.
"So then I said, a slow comfortable screw up against the wall. And she brought me a drink!"
"So then I said, I want to fuck you doggy-style while your eating out another chick. And she brought me a drink!"
"Finally I just ordered a Long Island, and she slapped my in the face and told me to go to Hell."
The evening eventually took its toll on me, as I didn't get home until about 1:30 am and I had to work the next day, but really it was all worth it. In the debate of whether I'm officially old or not, youth won out that night. Well, I'm still young at heart anyway. Plus, I have yet to go to a concert and officially be the oldest person in attendance. Until I'm the creepy old guy that really shouldn't be there, I'll consider it all good.
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There's only one rule to being a true, hardcore naysayer. Never, under any circumstance, believe in your team. It is the first and last commandment of being a naysayer, and I broke it. When the donks beat the Chargers to go 6-0, earning a 3 1/2 game lead in the west, I bought into the lie. I drank the predominantly orange kool-aid. I completely and totally sold out. Now, I'm paying the price.
Just the other night, Z-man and I hit up the Larimer Lounge to check out a band called Electric Six. Good times, they were. Loud music, lots of booze, and girls shaking their asses always makes for a swell time.
The bartenders at the Lounge that night were top shelf. Or maybe I just had lust-goggles on. It's hard to tell. There's just something about women leaning over the bar across from me, flashing their A through Ds against a backdrop of liquor bottles and asking "What would you like?" that gets this tool's ratchet clanked. That's customer service at its finest, peeps.
Zach and I were greatly entertained by the eye candy working the bar, as well as the thought of ordering overtly, sexually-named drinks from them. The running joke of the evening was to say, "When she asked me what I wanted, I told her a blow job. And she brought me a drink!"
Zach and I did variations of this all night long. It never once got old.
"So then I said, a slow comfortable screw up against the wall. And she brought me a drink!"
"So then I said, I want to fuck you doggy-style while your eating out another chick. And she brought me a drink!"
"Finally I just ordered a Long Island, and she slapped my in the face and told me to go to Hell."
The evening eventually took its toll on me, as I didn't get home until about 1:30 am and I had to work the next day, but really it was all worth it. In the debate of whether I'm officially old or not, youth won out that night. Well, I'm still young at heart anyway. Plus, I have yet to go to a concert and officially be the oldest person in attendance. Until I'm the creepy old guy that really shouldn't be there, I'll consider it all good.
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There's only one rule to being a true, hardcore naysayer. Never, under any circumstance, believe in your team. It is the first and last commandment of being a naysayer, and I broke it. When the donks beat the Chargers to go 6-0, earning a 3 1/2 game lead in the west, I bought into the lie. I drank the predominantly orange kool-aid. I completely and totally sold out. Now, I'm paying the price.
This will be the second time I've had to come to terms with burying the 09 Broncos. I already did it once back in the preseason when it was obvious to everyone that the Broncos serviced well hung goats. Everything we thought about the Broncos going into the season was true. They are who we thought they were, and we let them off the hook. Or at least I did. At 6-0, the donks had converted me. I was a believer, and I was singing their praises. Josh McDaniels is a genius! Kyle Orton is the greatest game manager ever! At one point I'd even considered betting on them. When the donks wre at Baltimore even! How sad. Now, after three horrid losses, I am no longer blind to their propaganda. The Broncos are a joke. They're frauds, and I will never believe in them again.
The 09 Broncos are dead. They're deader than dead. I took them out back, hit them over the head with a shovel, and buried them next to fluffy.
If there are any believers out their who yet cling to hope, just let it go. The donks don't have a chance. As Woody Paige would say, "Look at the schedule!"
Tomorrow they lose to the Chargers, which you have to admit, is sweet sweet irony. You gotta love that the bolts have managed to yet again come back from a three game deficit to bitch-slap the donks. Epic. Just epic. Kyle Orton? Chris Simms? It doesn't fucking matter who's taking the snaps. The donks go down either way. It won't even be close.
After that, the donks will lose to the giants (I'm so glad I'll get to see that in person), at Kc, at Ind, and at Philly. Their only wins for the rest of the season will be their home games against Kc and Oak.
8-8. That's how it'll end. I've already put it on their tombstone.
Bring on the draft.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Good News, Everyone!
Yet again, everyone's favorite Dr. Chris and I had a bet going with the donks/skins game. Well, the donks lost, and that means I don't have to post line picks any more. That means you don't have to read them any more.
You're free. You're finally free.
You're free. You're finally free.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Random Thoughts/Lines (11-14-09)
I was reading the newspaper the other day when I stumbled across an article about some new, quite alarming types of computer viruses that are floating around the net. These new types of viruses were created by pedophiles so they could store child porn on someone else's computer. Once a computer is infected, it begins doing searches for child porn, then downloads the pics it finds and stores them in secret files. The pedophiles then hack into the infected computers whenever they want to look at the porn, allowing them to keep their own computers free of the material. The worst part of all is that some of the people with infected computers, people who aren't pedophiles and who don't even know that the porn is on their computer, have been charged by the police for child abuse crimes after the porn is discovered. According to the article, it is very difficult and costly for victims of these viruses to prove their innocence, as the viruses are often difficult to find. As well, pedophiles often use the "it's not mine" excuse when caught, so authorities are highly skeptical when anyone suggests that the material found on their computer isn't theirs.
Horrified and a bit paranoid after reading the article, I raced home that day and did a quick search of my computer. The good news is that I didn't find any child porn. The bad news though is that I discovered a similar styled virus has infected my computer. Instead of downloading child porn though, this virus downloads unpublishable fantasy novels and poorly written short stories to my computer. Not only that, but apparently this novel has been submitted several times in my name to various publishing companies. I'm so embarrassed. The novel, called "The Dagger of Lokin" is 944 pages of the most unoriginal, poorly conceived crap I have ever read, and there are people out there who think that I wrote it.
What kind of person would do that to someone? It's just not right.
-- There's a show on Showtime that Steph is a big fan of called "Nurse Jackie" about a nurse juggling the difficulties of her job, an affair she's having with a coworker, and her addiction to pain meds. It's not as exciting as it sounds. Anyway, one of the characters on the show, a Dr. Fitch Cooper, suffers from a unique form of Tourettes. Basically, whenever he's nervous, he reaches out and gropes the nearest tits and ass he can find. When I first saw the show, I was outraged. As someone who suffers from this same exact form of Tourettes, I felt ridiculed and offended. How dare Showtime mock my disorder? Now though I realize how important it is that the general public learns of this terrible affliction, and I'm glad that the show is doing its part to help end the inexcusable amount of ignorance there is about this disease. Thanks to Nurse Jackie, I have finally found the courage to stop taking my prescribed medicines, and to just be myself. Thank you, Showtime. Thank you.
-- The irony is so rich and creamy, you can't help but ask for seconds. The 6-2 Broncos, who should really be 2-6 at this point, have been revealed as frauds. The team we all thought they would be at the beginning of the season has finally emerged, just in time to let the San Diego Chargers make yet another comeback to win the west. It's like clockwork. The donks start off hot, then choke the season away. The bolts start off cold, everyone writes them off, and then they bitchslap the donks into submission. Such is the joy of being a donks fan. The only question now is, can the donks slip into the playoffs as a wildcard? Well, tomorrow's game will tell us. Let's do some lines!
-- Was +4 Vs Den- It's a classic trap game. Classic! The 6-2 donks are clearly the better team. The 2-6 Redskins are faltering. They're a joke. The skins don't have a chance, right? Then why did Vegas set the line at -4? Why hasn't the line jumped to -7 or -8? Vegas knows, as do the gamblers. They know the donks are playing at 11 am on the east coast. They know the blueprint for beating the donks has been layed out. They know that Kyle Orton sucks balls. Plus, the donks are looking past the skins to the bolts game next week (a bolts team that is going to win by the way). This isn't me just naysaying, people! The signs are all there! Trap game. The donks will lose their third in a row. Then next week, they lose their fourth. Rich and creamy irony.
-- Oak -2 Vs Kc- I can't explain why, but I have a feeling about this one. It's all gut.
-- Sd -1 Vs Phi- Damn this is a sweet game. It sucks they play in the morning. My punk ass will be watching the redskins upset the donks. But this will be my plan B. So why am I taking the bolts? Simple. The donks need the eagles to win, which means it won't happen. Plus, I need McNabb to throw up 10 billion pts for fantasy, which means it won't happen. The football gods hate me, see.
-- New England +3 at Ind- The colts haven't played a real team yet. The Pats are off the radar. And fuck if I know.
-- NO -14 at Stl- This line couldn't be high enough.
-- Min -16.5 Vs Det- This line couldn't be high enough.
That's it.
Horrified and a bit paranoid after reading the article, I raced home that day and did a quick search of my computer. The good news is that I didn't find any child porn. The bad news though is that I discovered a similar styled virus has infected my computer. Instead of downloading child porn though, this virus downloads unpublishable fantasy novels and poorly written short stories to my computer. Not only that, but apparently this novel has been submitted several times in my name to various publishing companies. I'm so embarrassed. The novel, called "The Dagger of Lokin" is 944 pages of the most unoriginal, poorly conceived crap I have ever read, and there are people out there who think that I wrote it.
What kind of person would do that to someone? It's just not right.
-- There's a show on Showtime that Steph is a big fan of called "Nurse Jackie" about a nurse juggling the difficulties of her job, an affair she's having with a coworker, and her addiction to pain meds. It's not as exciting as it sounds. Anyway, one of the characters on the show, a Dr. Fitch Cooper, suffers from a unique form of Tourettes. Basically, whenever he's nervous, he reaches out and gropes the nearest tits and ass he can find. When I first saw the show, I was outraged. As someone who suffers from this same exact form of Tourettes, I felt ridiculed and offended. How dare Showtime mock my disorder? Now though I realize how important it is that the general public learns of this terrible affliction, and I'm glad that the show is doing its part to help end the inexcusable amount of ignorance there is about this disease. Thanks to Nurse Jackie, I have finally found the courage to stop taking my prescribed medicines, and to just be myself. Thank you, Showtime. Thank you.
-- The irony is so rich and creamy, you can't help but ask for seconds. The 6-2 Broncos, who should really be 2-6 at this point, have been revealed as frauds. The team we all thought they would be at the beginning of the season has finally emerged, just in time to let the San Diego Chargers make yet another comeback to win the west. It's like clockwork. The donks start off hot, then choke the season away. The bolts start off cold, everyone writes them off, and then they bitchslap the donks into submission. Such is the joy of being a donks fan. The only question now is, can the donks slip into the playoffs as a wildcard? Well, tomorrow's game will tell us. Let's do some lines!
-- Was +4 Vs Den- It's a classic trap game. Classic! The 6-2 donks are clearly the better team. The 2-6 Redskins are faltering. They're a joke. The skins don't have a chance, right? Then why did Vegas set the line at -4? Why hasn't the line jumped to -7 or -8? Vegas knows, as do the gamblers. They know the donks are playing at 11 am on the east coast. They know the blueprint for beating the donks has been layed out. They know that Kyle Orton sucks balls. Plus, the donks are looking past the skins to the bolts game next week (a bolts team that is going to win by the way). This isn't me just naysaying, people! The signs are all there! Trap game. The donks will lose their third in a row. Then next week, they lose their fourth. Rich and creamy irony.
-- Oak -2 Vs Kc- I can't explain why, but I have a feeling about this one. It's all gut.
-- Sd -1 Vs Phi- Damn this is a sweet game. It sucks they play in the morning. My punk ass will be watching the redskins upset the donks. But this will be my plan B. So why am I taking the bolts? Simple. The donks need the eagles to win, which means it won't happen. Plus, I need McNabb to throw up 10 billion pts for fantasy, which means it won't happen. The football gods hate me, see.
-- New England +3 at Ind- The colts haven't played a real team yet. The Pats are off the radar. And fuck if I know.
-- NO -14 at Stl- This line couldn't be high enough.
-- Min -16.5 Vs Det- This line couldn't be high enough.
That's it.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Dud Picks More Lines
Shortly after I started working at the bank about three years ago, my coworkers came up with a nickname for me. They decided to call me "the dud". Of course, I wasn't supposed to know about it. The name was a secret. People talk though, even to a dud, and so eventually I learned what everyone was calling me.
Though I much prefer tool, dud does work. It fits. I have to say, my coworkers did a fine job of picking my nickname. It hints at my complete lack of charm or personality, as well as my inability to communicate well with others.
Anyway, last night I attended my second poker tournament hosted by Mark (Debbie's brother), and boy did I feel like a dud. Steph wasn't there because she was still at work, so I pretty much found a corner and hid most of the night. I don't think I said two words to anyone, even though almost everyone there made an effort to include me in their discussions. Honestly, I don't know what my problem is. I just don't converse well with people. I'm good for listening noises and the appropriate facial expressions, but that's about it. If you're looking for opinion or insight into whatever we're discussing, it's just not likely to happen.
Besides being a dud socially, I was a dud at poker as well. I'm way out of my league with this group. I can't bluff at all. I don't have the nerves for it. Nor can I read when anyone else is bluffing, which means I end up playing overly conservative. Basically, I fold on nearly every hand until the blinds have piddled my chips away to nothing. That about sums up my playing style. I'd like to think that it's just my inexperience, but I'm starting to wonder if the same things that hold me back socially are a hindrance for me at poker.
I am king of the duds.
Well, it's time for the dud to make his line picks, even though it pains me to do it. It kicks me square in the nuts not to be able to bet on sports. I had so much fun in Vegas, even if I left down a couple of hundred. It was a blast, and I really wish I could do it every weekend.
Maybe I should reopen my gambling account.
Cin +3 over Bal- This is just a spite pick. Despite the ravens winning me a good chunk of money last week, I still despise them for exposing the donks for the frauds they are.
NO -13.5 Vs Car- Assuming that the donks, bolts, and eagles were all eliminated, the super bowl match-up I'd be most interested in watching would be the undefeated Saints going up against the undefeated colts. Yeah I know, it's a pipe dream to think either team will be undefeated going into the Super Bowl, but how cool would that be? The '72 Dolphins would be fucked.
Sd +5 at NyG- Here's where the bolts start making their comeback. Write it down. Bolts win the west.
SF -4.5 Vs Ten- Fuck if i know.
These last two picks are the ones I'd put money on. Not only that, but I'd parlay them and drop two bills on it. Easy money.
Phi -3 Vs Dallas-
Pit -3 at Den-
I've got blue balls for sportsbooking.
Though I much prefer tool, dud does work. It fits. I have to say, my coworkers did a fine job of picking my nickname. It hints at my complete lack of charm or personality, as well as my inability to communicate well with others.
Anyway, last night I attended my second poker tournament hosted by Mark (Debbie's brother), and boy did I feel like a dud. Steph wasn't there because she was still at work, so I pretty much found a corner and hid most of the night. I don't think I said two words to anyone, even though almost everyone there made an effort to include me in their discussions. Honestly, I don't know what my problem is. I just don't converse well with people. I'm good for listening noises and the appropriate facial expressions, but that's about it. If you're looking for opinion or insight into whatever we're discussing, it's just not likely to happen.
Besides being a dud socially, I was a dud at poker as well. I'm way out of my league with this group. I can't bluff at all. I don't have the nerves for it. Nor can I read when anyone else is bluffing, which means I end up playing overly conservative. Basically, I fold on nearly every hand until the blinds have piddled my chips away to nothing. That about sums up my playing style. I'd like to think that it's just my inexperience, but I'm starting to wonder if the same things that hold me back socially are a hindrance for me at poker.
I am king of the duds.
Well, it's time for the dud to make his line picks, even though it pains me to do it. It kicks me square in the nuts not to be able to bet on sports. I had so much fun in Vegas, even if I left down a couple of hundred. It was a blast, and I really wish I could do it every weekend.
Maybe I should reopen my gambling account.
Cin +3 over Bal- This is just a spite pick. Despite the ravens winning me a good chunk of money last week, I still despise them for exposing the donks for the frauds they are.
NO -13.5 Vs Car- Assuming that the donks, bolts, and eagles were all eliminated, the super bowl match-up I'd be most interested in watching would be the undefeated Saints going up against the undefeated colts. Yeah I know, it's a pipe dream to think either team will be undefeated going into the Super Bowl, but how cool would that be? The '72 Dolphins would be fucked.
Sd +5 at NyG- Here's where the bolts start making their comeback. Write it down. Bolts win the west.
SF -4.5 Vs Ten- Fuck if i know.
These last two picks are the ones I'd put money on. Not only that, but I'd parlay them and drop two bills on it. Easy money.
Phi -3 Vs Dallas-
Pit -3 at Den-
I've got blue balls for sportsbooking.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
30 Second Blog (A Vegas Quicky)
Since coming home from Vegas, I've been somewhat depressed. I'm not sure if it's because I already miss Vegas, or if I'm sad that I didn't come home a winner. Maybe its because I won't be sportbooking again any time soon. Whatever it is, I'm sad.
Overall, the trip was great. Halloween was a blast. People watching in Vegas is fun anyway. On Halloween it gets kicked up to the extreme. The highlight was easily a hottie cowgirl in assless chaps strolling through the New York New York with a few of her friends. That was some serious eye candy. Really, Halloween was a complete slut parade, and it was great.
As far as gambling goes, I ended the weekend down $226. I did very well on Pro Football and and the Roulette table, but that's about it. Slots, Craps, College Football, Hockey, and Baseball didn't go so well for me. I should know better than to gamble on anything but the NFL. If I'd just stayed to what I know, I would have come home up.
I'm not sure when I'll make it back to Vegas. If I can swing it, I'd love to make Halloween a tradition, but we'll see. It all depends on school and such. Depending on how things go, it could be a long time before I get back.
Sad, isn't it.
Overall, the trip was great. Halloween was a blast. People watching in Vegas is fun anyway. On Halloween it gets kicked up to the extreme. The highlight was easily a hottie cowgirl in assless chaps strolling through the New York New York with a few of her friends. That was some serious eye candy. Really, Halloween was a complete slut parade, and it was great.
As far as gambling goes, I ended the weekend down $226. I did very well on Pro Football and and the Roulette table, but that's about it. Slots, Craps, College Football, Hockey, and Baseball didn't go so well for me. I should know better than to gamble on anything but the NFL. If I'd just stayed to what I know, I would have come home up.
I'm not sure when I'll make it back to Vegas. If I can swing it, I'd love to make Halloween a tradition, but we'll see. It all depends on school and such. Depending on how things go, it could be a long time before I get back.
Sad, isn't it.
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