So, I'm driving to a job today in my car and I'm sitting at a light waiting to make a left. It's all one way traffic for both streets in a relativley residential area (Bradley Blvd. & Wilson Lane for the locals). Traffic is constantly coming from the other direction so I'm just sitting there until there is a large gap between a car and a white van. At this moment, I decide I'm gonna make my turn and it also turns out that right at this point the light is turning yellow, so I need to get out of the intersection to begin with.
So, I start making the turn, at which time a pedestrian sees the light turning yelling and starts hauling ass to try and cross. He doesn't make it into the intersection, thankfully, because he sees me turning, but I was about a half a second from slamming on my brakes to prevent myself from hitting him if he had.
Meanwhile, the white van floored it to try and make the yellow light and barely missed hitting me even without me stopping for the pedestrian.
I successfully make the turn and no one is hurt or hit by anyone else, but then I start thinking that I was about one hair away from a serious accident...and I started wondering, "who would be at fault?"
I figured it would have to be the white van, since I was already in the intersection at the time and he was accelerating into a yellow light, rather than yielding (yeah, that's what it actually signals). But, maybe I would have been at fault since I was crossing the path of the white van. Or would it be the pedestrian for attempting to cross at an inappropriate time. Though there are no crossing signs at this intersection, it surely would have been red since the light was yellow.
Thankfully, I don't have to deal with knowing who truly is at fault, because that would have really put a damper into a perfectly good FRIDAY.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Would You Rather Be...
"An alcoholic or chubby?" (overweight, but not morbidly overweight)
I heard this one on the radio today and they were going to say what percentage of people chose one over the other, but I ended up getting out of the car before I heard the answer. I guessed that it would be like 70/30 in favor of the alcoholic (which is what I would choose), but what would you go with?
Both will kill you in the long term, but at least with the alcoholic, you can be physically active until your liver gives out. They both cost alot, what with the food and liquor bills, so that's sort of a wash. As far as the ladies go, Nicholas Cage was able to pull Elizabeth Shue in Leaving Las Vegas, so that gives hope for the alkie. Fatties have a bit more trouble, though Professor Clump did pull both Jada Pinkett and Janet Jackson in the Nutty Professors, so there's still a chance there.
Well, there's some pros and cons for each, but I'm still sticking with my gut (no pun intended) and going with the boozing over the feasting.
I heard this one on the radio today and they were going to say what percentage of people chose one over the other, but I ended up getting out of the car before I heard the answer. I guessed that it would be like 70/30 in favor of the alcoholic (which is what I would choose), but what would you go with?
Both will kill you in the long term, but at least with the alcoholic, you can be physically active until your liver gives out. They both cost alot, what with the food and liquor bills, so that's sort of a wash. As far as the ladies go, Nicholas Cage was able to pull Elizabeth Shue in Leaving Las Vegas, so that gives hope for the alkie. Fatties have a bit more trouble, though Professor Clump did pull both Jada Pinkett and Janet Jackson in the Nutty Professors, so there's still a chance there.
Well, there's some pros and cons for each, but I'm still sticking with my gut (no pun intended) and going with the boozing over the feasting.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Happy Mother's Day
Alright, it's time I started posting regularly again, as I've really gotten away from this and I feel that the writing helps me to purge some of my day-to-day tension, much like masturbation. But, you really can't blame me for not writing. It's been a truly ridiculous bunch of weeks, including a one day road trip to Charlotte, a wedding weekend where I was one of the groomsmen (thank you for that honor, and Congratulations to Kelly and Scott), and most recently, the sudden firing of my girlfriend from her job the day before she took a week-long trip to Tucson, which is where she is now. And, of course there's the swimming pools.
So, with all of this drama and excitement in my life, what do I want to write about today: Mother's Day shopping...of course.
You see, with all of this drama and extensive hours of work, I haven't had any time to really think through what I was going to get for the person who brought me into this world, my mom. And that was my goal for today.
I work with my mom, so I see her on a daily basis and spend most of the day in our smelly warehouse with her, answering phones and mocking some of the retards that call in looking for pool work. On a completely unrelated note, a house in my neighborhood just went up for sale and the realtors name is Gay Ruth. Now back to the story at hand. As I was saying, though I spend all this time with my mother, unfortunately, I really have no idea what it is that she could possibly want for Mother's Day.
My dad pulled a swift one and beat us all to the chocolate covered strawberries gift, which he presented to her on Thursday. It was a deft move giving the gift on a weekday, in advance of actual Mother's Day, limiting the possibility my two brothers or I could steal this simple gift idea from him.
I think we've given her something from Bath & Body Works (the ultimate female cop out gift) at least twice a year between Mother's Day, her birthday and Christmas, so there goes a second option. With those two options off the board, it's off to the mall for some brainstorming.
I jumped into the car and headed over to Montgomery Mall, forgetting that it was Saturday and 12:30 PM until the moment I hit the parking lots. Sweet fucking Christ! After years of working at the mall through high school, I seemed to have forgotten how miserable a place it is on Saturday afternoons. As I ventured into the mall, alone, I was confronted with mobs of women and teenagers swarming in all directions...none of them speaking a word of English (God Bless America). I wandered up and down each of the wings of the mall, only to come to the realization that the only stores in the mall are shoe stores and clothing stores for sluts that have the bodies of 12 year old boys. If any one of you sons of bitches even makes a comment...
So, that was a wasted trip. And then it hit me. I had overlooked the most obvious of all cop out gifts. When in doubt, don't buy anything...let the person you're shopping for do that. Yep, the old gift certificate. Speaking of gift certificates, this brings me to a little theory that I have come up with, which has served me well when dealing with buying gifts for females, even mothers.
"Don't buy clothing for women." I guess it's less a theory and more the eleventh commandment, intended solely for men. You see, if you buy a woman clothing, you're going to get in trouble. Why? Real simple: If the clothes are too big, then you think that she's fat; If the clothes are too small, then she "is" too fat. Either way, you have an upset woman and nothing lingers longer than a woman upset over her weight. But J-Man, what if it fits perfectly? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Put down the half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, close the other open window on your computer (which is porn), take a shower, shave, and go get yourself a girlfriend, because you obviously have never had one.
But I digress. Like I said, the gift certificate was perfect. I pulled this one before a couple years ago with Legal's Seafood and Carabba's, and I'm not sure exactly where my mom shops for clothing, so this time I thought I'd try something a little different. After some thought, I drove up to Regal Cinemas in Germantown, and grabbed my mom a nice gift certificate for a couple trips to the movies. Yep, the movies.
Because nothing says, "Thank you for giving me life, nurturing me through my youth, putting up with my teenage angst, paying for most of college, and dealing with my cursing tirades each and every workday" like buttered popcorn and 2-hours of Tom Hanks.
Like you did any better.
So, with all of this drama and excitement in my life, what do I want to write about today: Mother's Day shopping...of course.
You see, with all of this drama and extensive hours of work, I haven't had any time to really think through what I was going to get for the person who brought me into this world, my mom. And that was my goal for today.
I work with my mom, so I see her on a daily basis and spend most of the day in our smelly warehouse with her, answering phones and mocking some of the retards that call in looking for pool work. On a completely unrelated note, a house in my neighborhood just went up for sale and the realtors name is Gay Ruth. Now back to the story at hand. As I was saying, though I spend all this time with my mother, unfortunately, I really have no idea what it is that she could possibly want for Mother's Day.
My dad pulled a swift one and beat us all to the chocolate covered strawberries gift, which he presented to her on Thursday. It was a deft move giving the gift on a weekday, in advance of actual Mother's Day, limiting the possibility my two brothers or I could steal this simple gift idea from him.
I think we've given her something from Bath & Body Works (the ultimate female cop out gift) at least twice a year between Mother's Day, her birthday and Christmas, so there goes a second option. With those two options off the board, it's off to the mall for some brainstorming.
I jumped into the car and headed over to Montgomery Mall, forgetting that it was Saturday and 12:30 PM until the moment I hit the parking lots. Sweet fucking Christ! After years of working at the mall through high school, I seemed to have forgotten how miserable a place it is on Saturday afternoons. As I ventured into the mall, alone, I was confronted with mobs of women and teenagers swarming in all directions...none of them speaking a word of English (God Bless America). I wandered up and down each of the wings of the mall, only to come to the realization that the only stores in the mall are shoe stores and clothing stores for sluts that have the bodies of 12 year old boys. If any one of you sons of bitches even makes a comment...
So, that was a wasted trip. And then it hit me. I had overlooked the most obvious of all cop out gifts. When in doubt, don't buy anything...let the person you're shopping for do that. Yep, the old gift certificate. Speaking of gift certificates, this brings me to a little theory that I have come up with, which has served me well when dealing with buying gifts for females, even mothers.
"Don't buy clothing for women." I guess it's less a theory and more the eleventh commandment, intended solely for men. You see, if you buy a woman clothing, you're going to get in trouble. Why? Real simple: If the clothes are too big, then you think that she's fat; If the clothes are too small, then she "is" too fat. Either way, you have an upset woman and nothing lingers longer than a woman upset over her weight. But J-Man, what if it fits perfectly? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Put down the half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, close the other open window on your computer (which is porn), take a shower, shave, and go get yourself a girlfriend, because you obviously have never had one.
But I digress. Like I said, the gift certificate was perfect. I pulled this one before a couple years ago with Legal's Seafood and Carabba's, and I'm not sure exactly where my mom shops for clothing, so this time I thought I'd try something a little different. After some thought, I drove up to Regal Cinemas in Germantown, and grabbed my mom a nice gift certificate for a couple trips to the movies. Yep, the movies.
Because nothing says, "Thank you for giving me life, nurturing me through my youth, putting up with my teenage angst, paying for most of college, and dealing with my cursing tirades each and every workday" like buttered popcorn and 2-hours of Tom Hanks.
Like you did any better.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Getting Older
It's been a while since I've had any free time and therefore, it's been a while since I've had a chance to put up a blog entry...I'm sure you all have really missed it. The pool season is in full swing and with it comes the switch from 20-40 hr weeks to 70-80 hr weeks for the next two months or so. It's truly amazing how one week I'm off at 4 PM every day and the following Monday, I'm barely getting done at 8 PM. That's what it's like when you're in a seasonal business, so you just have to suck it up and adapt quickly because you only have 7 months to make a full year's worth of income.
Of course with the start of the season comes the start of new hiring and employee issues. You see, no salaried employee complains when they're taking home a check when they're working 20 hours a week...they only complain when they're taking home the same check and working three to four time longer. It seems like it's the same problems every year, just with different twists and reasons behind their desire to make more money. And yet, every year, it always seems new and concerning to me...I guess I haven't learned to be a cold, heartless employer yet. And perhaps a change is needed. A significant change in the way I handle my business...and my life.
For the past seven years since I've graduated from college, my life almost feels like I'm running on autopilot. Sure, I make a big decision here and there, such as buying and selling my houses, and eventually splitting ways with my old work associates two years ago, but for the most part, it feels like I'm just going through the motions and life is happening around me. Maybe that's how it is for everyone? At some point, you chose your profession, you chose your partner, you chose your lifestyle, and now you just react with the situation and complete each day, only to repeat the process the following day, and week, and month, and year.
And now I'm 28 years old, living in a house in Rockville with my girlfriend, dog and cat, working feverishly in the Summer and relaxing in the Winter, grabbing a beer or five with my friends on the weekend, playing football every Friday and Sunday, eating sushi once a week at the Sushi buffet, reading sports columns in anticipation of the baseball and football seasons, and watching my hair get thinner and my muscles ache more after each exersion.
Is this what getting older is all about? Adding more and more routines and set pieces to your life until you have every day completely consumed with set plans or commitments, only to complete them and move on to the next day of the same? Is this what hippies are fighting (are they still fighting?) against? Is this what it means to be a part of "corporate America"? Is this when I realize that my life is not like a video game and I can't just re-load from my last save point and try a different path? Will Katherine McPhee win American Idol and become Kelly Clarkson, Part Duex? Could I have thought of a more depressing first entry after two weeks of not writing?
Hey, you're getting older too.
Of course with the start of the season comes the start of new hiring and employee issues. You see, no salaried employee complains when they're taking home a check when they're working 20 hours a week...they only complain when they're taking home the same check and working three to four time longer. It seems like it's the same problems every year, just with different twists and reasons behind their desire to make more money. And yet, every year, it always seems new and concerning to me...I guess I haven't learned to be a cold, heartless employer yet. And perhaps a change is needed. A significant change in the way I handle my business...and my life.
For the past seven years since I've graduated from college, my life almost feels like I'm running on autopilot. Sure, I make a big decision here and there, such as buying and selling my houses, and eventually splitting ways with my old work associates two years ago, but for the most part, it feels like I'm just going through the motions and life is happening around me. Maybe that's how it is for everyone? At some point, you chose your profession, you chose your partner, you chose your lifestyle, and now you just react with the situation and complete each day, only to repeat the process the following day, and week, and month, and year.
And now I'm 28 years old, living in a house in Rockville with my girlfriend, dog and cat, working feverishly in the Summer and relaxing in the Winter, grabbing a beer or five with my friends on the weekend, playing football every Friday and Sunday, eating sushi once a week at the Sushi buffet, reading sports columns in anticipation of the baseball and football seasons, and watching my hair get thinner and my muscles ache more after each exersion.
Is this what getting older is all about? Adding more and more routines and set pieces to your life until you have every day completely consumed with set plans or commitments, only to complete them and move on to the next day of the same? Is this what hippies are fighting (are they still fighting?) against? Is this what it means to be a part of "corporate America"? Is this when I realize that my life is not like a video game and I can't just re-load from my last save point and try a different path? Will Katherine McPhee win American Idol and become Kelly Clarkson, Part Duex? Could I have thought of a more depressing first entry after two weeks of not writing?
Hey, you're getting older too.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Following the crowd
I had procrastinated long enough. I have been shrugging off others comments and suggestions for months. I found every reason to not move forward with it and debated my friends over and over again. The cost was too high. I haven't got the time. But then, I finally crumbled and went along with the rest of the crowd.
Yes, I bought "The DaVinci Code" by Dan Brown now that it is available in paperback, and have begun reading what others have been raving about and encouraging me to read for months. And you know what, this book is pretty damned good.
What's that?!
Well, what did you think I was talking about??
Yes, I bought "The DaVinci Code" by Dan Brown now that it is available in paperback, and have begun reading what others have been raving about and encouraging me to read for months. And you know what, this book is pretty damned good.
What's that?!
Well, what did you think I was talking about??
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Show me the money
Last night, my mom gives me a call because she was looking through the Gazette and saw my name along with my old address in Germantown on an advertisement for unclaimed property. At first, I'm thinking this is some sort of scam, but the list has like 100,000 names on it, so this would be a very elaborate scam.
So, this morning, I call the number that was listed with all the info. and ask the lady I speak with what it is that I have unclaimed. After verifying my identity, she informs me that it is likely a refund on an overpayment of my property taxes back when I lived in Germantown...and that the amount is OVER $1000!!!!!
HELL YEAH!!!
So, I went online and printed out the forms that I have to send to the government to claim this money. And within a few short weeks (or months...this is the government we're talking about) I'll be getting a fatty check for this money I never knew I was owed. What a solid find!
If you wanna see if you're owed money by the state of Maryland, you can go search for yourself at www.marylandtaxes.com under the unclaimed property section.
So, this morning, I call the number that was listed with all the info. and ask the lady I speak with what it is that I have unclaimed. After verifying my identity, she informs me that it is likely a refund on an overpayment of my property taxes back when I lived in Germantown...and that the amount is OVER $1000!!!!!
HELL YEAH!!!
So, I went online and printed out the forms that I have to send to the government to claim this money. And within a few short weeks (or months...this is the government we're talking about) I'll be getting a fatty check for this money I never knew I was owed. What a solid find!
If you wanna see if you're owed money by the state of Maryland, you can go search for yourself at www.marylandtaxes.com under the unclaimed property section.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Why is everyone so drunk?
I was back in DC this weekend and it seemed only fitting that I make a trip out to the bars since the area had been without the J-Man for two straight weekends. I mean, who's going to sit in the corner of Millie & Al's, ogle the underage chicks, and get loaded on cheap beer and jello shots?!
So, there I am, sitting in the corner of Millie & Al's with Catheter Man and Ike, ogling the bachelorette parties (it was one of those nights), and getting loaded on cheap beer and jello shots, when the night got real ugly, real fast.
We sent Ike to get a round of beers and after a few minutes, I turned around to see what was taking Ike so long. He turns back at me, only to reveal that he was talking with an ugly bachelorette, and he explains that he is taking so long because this girl finds it spectacular that she and Ike are getting married on the same day...and she's also peddling her taped-on candies.
Bachelorette parties are weird. They always have candy nipples and penises and all sorts of edible shit taped to them. Then they grab random guys and have them eat one or even worse, pay to eat one off of them. Is this supposed to be funny? On my bachelor party, I'm gonna tape a bunch of hot dogs to my pants and walk around with my dick out too. Let's see how many chicks wanna deal with that kind of Russian roulette.
Now, back to the freak show. Ike returns to the table and after a few more rounds I decide to take a trip to the bathroom. This is usually a disaster at Millie & Al's as the line is normally down the stairwell (which it was later in the night) and there's only two pissers. At this moment, there are no guys in line, but there is a guy in front of me walking up the stairs. And then he promptly fell down the stairs. Seriously, he fell face first right near the top and slid like 6 stairs down until he was right in front of me. Then, he stood up, made no joke or cover up and continued right up the stairs again and into the bathroom. I wonder if he even realized something was wrong?
Back at the table, it's gotten really crowded and a second bachelorette party has stumbled in. It's the most bizarre occurrence when two bachelorettes see each other. Normally, women seem to hate each other at the bar, but throw a crown and a white vale on them, and all of a sudden they're like old high school buddies who haven't seen each other in 10 years. These two almost went at it right there...and perhaps our encouragement (along with the guy sitting next to us) might have had something to do with that. "Last chance to be a lesbian, and this is the place to do it" seemed like a decent exclamation at the time. It drew no harsh looks.
But these two weren't the worst of the PDA. About 15 minutes later, a couple starts going at it right behind me. This guy is groping her ass, her tits, and ramming his tongue down her throat. I think if Catheter Man hadn't pulled out the camera and taken an awkward shot of them to draw an end to this display, I definitely would have syphillis right now.
So, we wrap it up at Millie's, and move on to a quick empanada (you can read Catheter Man's take on this debacle), and then Ike and I jump in a cab up towards Van Ness, where I hop on the metro toward home.
Is the night of oddity over?...not even close. The puking hasn't even begun. But this time it's not me.
I'm sitting on the metro and these two chicks are sitting at the end facing towards me. One of them is looking in two different directions, and I don't think she has a lazy eye, so bad times are on the way. Her friend miraculously produces a plastic grocery bag and let the games begin. At this point, we're only at Tenley Town, and this chick continues to fill the bag, all the way til Bethesda, at which time she changes seats with her friend, perhaps because I'm giving her the most horrified look in the world. What did she eat? That's about the grossest thing I've ever seen. And that's because I didn't see this.
What I have failed to mention in this whole story is that my buddy Zack started the evening with us at 8 PM by driving over to my place and taking the metro down to Kupe's with me. After 3 hours of pre-gaming, he headed off to meet some others and when I tried to call him at 1:30 AM when I finally left Millie's, he didn't answer. Well, sure enough, as I exit the metro, my cell. rings and it's Zack. He's just been "escorted" out of a relatively nice bar, after having had several shots. And if you've ever drank with Zack, several shots is not a good thing...and neither is Zack's final recollection of his evening:
"So, I start feeling real sick and I don't know where the bathroom is, so I just puke into a glass and put it on the bar. And the bartender and all are like, you need to leave. And I'm like, 'I justed puked in a glass. I definitely need to leave.'"
The best part of the story is that in all three times that he told it to me during that conversation, as well as the one more time he told it to me after I went back to get him from the metro, he never really seemed to know for sure whether or not this event really happened.
I can hardly believe any of this really happened.
So, there I am, sitting in the corner of Millie & Al's with Catheter Man and Ike, ogling the bachelorette parties (it was one of those nights), and getting loaded on cheap beer and jello shots, when the night got real ugly, real fast.
We sent Ike to get a round of beers and after a few minutes, I turned around to see what was taking Ike so long. He turns back at me, only to reveal that he was talking with an ugly bachelorette, and he explains that he is taking so long because this girl finds it spectacular that she and Ike are getting married on the same day...and she's also peddling her taped-on candies.
Bachelorette parties are weird. They always have candy nipples and penises and all sorts of edible shit taped to them. Then they grab random guys and have them eat one or even worse, pay to eat one off of them. Is this supposed to be funny? On my bachelor party, I'm gonna tape a bunch of hot dogs to my pants and walk around with my dick out too. Let's see how many chicks wanna deal with that kind of Russian roulette.
Now, back to the freak show. Ike returns to the table and after a few more rounds I decide to take a trip to the bathroom. This is usually a disaster at Millie & Al's as the line is normally down the stairwell (which it was later in the night) and there's only two pissers. At this moment, there are no guys in line, but there is a guy in front of me walking up the stairs. And then he promptly fell down the stairs. Seriously, he fell face first right near the top and slid like 6 stairs down until he was right in front of me. Then, he stood up, made no joke or cover up and continued right up the stairs again and into the bathroom. I wonder if he even realized something was wrong?
Back at the table, it's gotten really crowded and a second bachelorette party has stumbled in. It's the most bizarre occurrence when two bachelorettes see each other. Normally, women seem to hate each other at the bar, but throw a crown and a white vale on them, and all of a sudden they're like old high school buddies who haven't seen each other in 10 years. These two almost went at it right there...and perhaps our encouragement (along with the guy sitting next to us) might have had something to do with that. "Last chance to be a lesbian, and this is the place to do it" seemed like a decent exclamation at the time. It drew no harsh looks.
But these two weren't the worst of the PDA. About 15 minutes later, a couple starts going at it right behind me. This guy is groping her ass, her tits, and ramming his tongue down her throat. I think if Catheter Man hadn't pulled out the camera and taken an awkward shot of them to draw an end to this display, I definitely would have syphillis right now.
So, we wrap it up at Millie's, and move on to a quick empanada (you can read Catheter Man's take on this debacle), and then Ike and I jump in a cab up towards Van Ness, where I hop on the metro toward home.
Is the night of oddity over?...not even close. The puking hasn't even begun. But this time it's not me.
I'm sitting on the metro and these two chicks are sitting at the end facing towards me. One of them is looking in two different directions, and I don't think she has a lazy eye, so bad times are on the way. Her friend miraculously produces a plastic grocery bag and let the games begin. At this point, we're only at Tenley Town, and this chick continues to fill the bag, all the way til Bethesda, at which time she changes seats with her friend, perhaps because I'm giving her the most horrified look in the world. What did she eat? That's about the grossest thing I've ever seen. And that's because I didn't see this.
What I have failed to mention in this whole story is that my buddy Zack started the evening with us at 8 PM by driving over to my place and taking the metro down to Kupe's with me. After 3 hours of pre-gaming, he headed off to meet some others and when I tried to call him at 1:30 AM when I finally left Millie's, he didn't answer. Well, sure enough, as I exit the metro, my cell. rings and it's Zack. He's just been "escorted" out of a relatively nice bar, after having had several shots. And if you've ever drank with Zack, several shots is not a good thing...and neither is Zack's final recollection of his evening:
"So, I start feeling real sick and I don't know where the bathroom is, so I just puke into a glass and put it on the bar. And the bartender and all are like, you need to leave. And I'm like, 'I justed puked in a glass. I definitely need to leave.'"
The best part of the story is that in all three times that he told it to me during that conversation, as well as the one more time he told it to me after I went back to get him from the metro, he never really seemed to know for sure whether or not this event really happened.
I can hardly believe any of this really happened.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Me and NYC
Sorry to take so long on posting something new, but two weeks of travelling and the whole time change bullshit have taken their toll on the J-Man and have left me completely lazy. A return to my routine for a week should get me back into form and with the start of the pool season, I'm sure the jackass stories will soon flow like urine down a special kid's leg.
So, as I mentioned, I took a trip to NYC for the weekend to celebrate my buddy Scott's bachelorhood. For those of you hoping for stories of strippers, hookers, excessive testosterone displays and the like, you should stop reading now and go directly to scatlovers.com you filthy degenerates.
Now, here's the rundown:
We started things off right, heading right to the bar at National airport for a quick round of beers before our 45 minute flight. Good times are in the air, as a younger MILF with huge boobs starts talking to Dave and informs him that she is heading to "Hot-lanta." No, I'm not making that up. No, seriously, that's what she said. I swear.
So, after we finish that round, it's off to the plane and on to the realization that the Delta Shuttle is the greatest airline in the world. We've just taken off when the steward (yeah, he was gay) offers me a snack package. As a seasoned flyer of two weekends, I immediately shoot back with, "Is it free?" (classy, I know) Well, guess what...it was free. Two chicken fingers on a bed of lettuce with white carrot pieces, honey mustard dressing, a Kit Kat and a mint...for free. And it's only a 40 minute flight? And then Catheter Man got a beer...and it was free!!! So, he doubled up...no questions asked!!! What the hell kinda flight is this?!!! I just went to Vegas where I was in the air for like 5 hours and I had to illegally mix my own drinks when the flight attendants weren't looking, and these guys are handing out free beer. God bless whoever came up with this. I am never going anywhere by plane other than Boston or New York, so I can take the Delta Shuttle. In these times of struggling airlines, it's nice to see that someone is not afraid to serve cold chicken tenders and give away 8 oz. of Bud Light's finest. Marvelous. Simply marvelous.
And we're in NYC.
We check into the Hilton Millenium, right by the site of 9/11, and we immediately notice that the double beds are not much more than a glorified twin bed. It's an awkward moment as Catheter Man and I look at each other and then 230 lb. Smitty, and rapidly decide that we're best served sleeping with each other and leaving Zack, who hasn't arrived yet, with the privelage of spooning with Dave. It is only at 7 AM the next morning when Catheter Man rolls over and tries to cuddle me that I realize that I may have made a mistake. "I thought you were Takoma (his dog)." Is that any better???
But back to Friday night. We head out to an Irish bar that is actually owned by Scott's fiance's dad. He's not there, but we settle in anyways and order a round of beers and some food, since the chicken finger salad alone can not fill me for the whole night. Before the food can come, I decide it's time for Scott's first round of shots, and I inform our 100% pure-bred Irish waitress that we need a round of shots. I give her the liberty of choosing the shot...which leads me to my first bit of advice to anyone who cares to listen. If you are at an Irish bar and want to get a round of shots, don't ask an Irish person to choose it for you. "All I shoot is Jamieson and so that's what you'll be havin' since I'll be havin' one wit' ya." Nice start to an evening, that's for sure. I took control of the shots from that point on and it seemed only fitting that Scott drink Red Headed Sluts from that point on since his future bride is a red head. (no insult intended)
We relocate the party to a place called Fiddle Sticks a few hours and a $200 bar tab later. (Apparently on the house doesn't apply to the bachelor until the ring is on the finger). Oh well.
Fiddle Sticks is packed and it's "Golf Pros and Tennis Hos" night, which makes for some nice scenary. We're all pretty trashed, I end up making fun of some joker who's trying to impress some ladies by playing with his balls...tennis balls, that is, and Catheter Man's buddy Colediggy, after completely appaulling all of us with his knowledge of scatlovers.com and ratemypoo.com gets his come upance as he is accosted by some gay dudes. A good time is had by all and we close the place down at 4 AM.
On Saturday, we start things off real slow but eventually end up meeting up with everyone at Chelsea Piers for a couple rounds of bowling before heading off to Ruth's Chris for steak dinner. I have to say this was the greatest steak dinner I have ever had in my entire life, and what made it even sweeter is that Scott's dad met us for dinner and picked up the whole tab. Yeah, the whole tab. For Ruth's Chris. In NYC. With like 12 of us there. And we weren't drinking water either. Hell with toasting the bachelor, here's to his dad.
We wrap up there and head to a comedy club where Darrell Hammond is the headliner. He's remotely funny, though if you've watched Saturday Night Live, you've seen most of his best bits. The opening act was solid however, and the continuous drinking always makes a comedy club more enjoyable. It's about midnight when the show ends and we're all pretty full and drunk, but no one is willing to admit they want to call it a night.
We fight on and head to another Irish bar where a round of Jager bombs (I think we had some?) brings us back to our senses. The place is kinda dead so we only stay for a bit, then move on to our final destination. Not sure where we went, but the place had a juke box and the night closed out with my request, in honor of Scotty, "Sweet Caroline." It is truly an homage to Scotty's single life, because the last time I heard it when he was around, he had just pulled his undershirt over his head at Millie & Al's and a random girl was rubbing his nipples. Ugh. I think I just threw up in my mouth. And I think I did at the bar too, so we called it a night, and a weekend.
A solid performance and a definite improvment from my last trip to New York, when I was punched in the chest and robbed by a large black man who was claiming to sell my buddy a fake ID, and when I was charged $60 at Runway 69 for buying a stripper a rum and coke and then telling her to get the hell away from me. Actually, I guess anything would have been an improvment from that, and I did get a banana at the airport as we were departing.
It'll have to do since we never saw the Unhappy Gorilla.
So, as I mentioned, I took a trip to NYC for the weekend to celebrate my buddy Scott's bachelorhood. For those of you hoping for stories of strippers, hookers, excessive testosterone displays and the like, you should stop reading now and go directly to scatlovers.com you filthy degenerates.
Now, here's the rundown:
We started things off right, heading right to the bar at National airport for a quick round of beers before our 45 minute flight. Good times are in the air, as a younger MILF with huge boobs starts talking to Dave and informs him that she is heading to "Hot-lanta." No, I'm not making that up. No, seriously, that's what she said. I swear.
So, after we finish that round, it's off to the plane and on to the realization that the Delta Shuttle is the greatest airline in the world. We've just taken off when the steward (yeah, he was gay) offers me a snack package. As a seasoned flyer of two weekends, I immediately shoot back with, "Is it free?" (classy, I know) Well, guess what...it was free. Two chicken fingers on a bed of lettuce with white carrot pieces, honey mustard dressing, a Kit Kat and a mint...for free. And it's only a 40 minute flight? And then Catheter Man got a beer...and it was free!!! So, he doubled up...no questions asked!!! What the hell kinda flight is this?!!! I just went to Vegas where I was in the air for like 5 hours and I had to illegally mix my own drinks when the flight attendants weren't looking, and these guys are handing out free beer. God bless whoever came up with this. I am never going anywhere by plane other than Boston or New York, so I can take the Delta Shuttle. In these times of struggling airlines, it's nice to see that someone is not afraid to serve cold chicken tenders and give away 8 oz. of Bud Light's finest. Marvelous. Simply marvelous.
And we're in NYC.
We check into the Hilton Millenium, right by the site of 9/11, and we immediately notice that the double beds are not much more than a glorified twin bed. It's an awkward moment as Catheter Man and I look at each other and then 230 lb. Smitty, and rapidly decide that we're best served sleeping with each other and leaving Zack, who hasn't arrived yet, with the privelage of spooning with Dave. It is only at 7 AM the next morning when Catheter Man rolls over and tries to cuddle me that I realize that I may have made a mistake. "I thought you were Takoma (his dog)." Is that any better???
But back to Friday night. We head out to an Irish bar that is actually owned by Scott's fiance's dad. He's not there, but we settle in anyways and order a round of beers and some food, since the chicken finger salad alone can not fill me for the whole night. Before the food can come, I decide it's time for Scott's first round of shots, and I inform our 100% pure-bred Irish waitress that we need a round of shots. I give her the liberty of choosing the shot...which leads me to my first bit of advice to anyone who cares to listen. If you are at an Irish bar and want to get a round of shots, don't ask an Irish person to choose it for you. "All I shoot is Jamieson and so that's what you'll be havin' since I'll be havin' one wit' ya." Nice start to an evening, that's for sure. I took control of the shots from that point on and it seemed only fitting that Scott drink Red Headed Sluts from that point on since his future bride is a red head. (no insult intended)
We relocate the party to a place called Fiddle Sticks a few hours and a $200 bar tab later. (Apparently on the house doesn't apply to the bachelor until the ring is on the finger). Oh well.
Fiddle Sticks is packed and it's "Golf Pros and Tennis Hos" night, which makes for some nice scenary. We're all pretty trashed, I end up making fun of some joker who's trying to impress some ladies by playing with his balls...tennis balls, that is, and Catheter Man's buddy Colediggy, after completely appaulling all of us with his knowledge of scatlovers.com and ratemypoo.com gets his come upance as he is accosted by some gay dudes. A good time is had by all and we close the place down at 4 AM.
On Saturday, we start things off real slow but eventually end up meeting up with everyone at Chelsea Piers for a couple rounds of bowling before heading off to Ruth's Chris for steak dinner. I have to say this was the greatest steak dinner I have ever had in my entire life, and what made it even sweeter is that Scott's dad met us for dinner and picked up the whole tab. Yeah, the whole tab. For Ruth's Chris. In NYC. With like 12 of us there. And we weren't drinking water either. Hell with toasting the bachelor, here's to his dad.
We wrap up there and head to a comedy club where Darrell Hammond is the headliner. He's remotely funny, though if you've watched Saturday Night Live, you've seen most of his best bits. The opening act was solid however, and the continuous drinking always makes a comedy club more enjoyable. It's about midnight when the show ends and we're all pretty full and drunk, but no one is willing to admit they want to call it a night.
We fight on and head to another Irish bar where a round of Jager bombs (I think we had some?) brings us back to our senses. The place is kinda dead so we only stay for a bit, then move on to our final destination. Not sure where we went, but the place had a juke box and the night closed out with my request, in honor of Scotty, "Sweet Caroline." It is truly an homage to Scotty's single life, because the last time I heard it when he was around, he had just pulled his undershirt over his head at Millie & Al's and a random girl was rubbing his nipples. Ugh. I think I just threw up in my mouth. And I think I did at the bar too, so we called it a night, and a weekend.
A solid performance and a definite improvment from my last trip to New York, when I was punched in the chest and robbed by a large black man who was claiming to sell my buddy a fake ID, and when I was charged $60 at Runway 69 for buying a stripper a rum and coke and then telling her to get the hell away from me. Actually, I guess anything would have been an improvment from that, and I did get a banana at the airport as we were departing.
It'll have to do since we never saw the Unhappy Gorilla.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Off to NYC
Just as my liver had finally returned to proper size, it is time for me to jump on a plane for another weekend of excessive drinking and stupidity. This weekend is my buddy Scott's bachelor party and since his brother and bestman, Kirk, lives in NYC, and I hear it's an OK place to go, we've decided to take the party north.
The plan as of now is pretty low key, so that may bode well for the J-Man's stomach. I'll provide a recap of some of the highlights...with the exception of Scott receiving an "Unhappy Gorilla" from a stripper...when I get back on Monday. Enjoy your weekends.
And, yes, I just made up the term "Unhappy Gorilla" as I was writing, but I have some ideas of what it could be, and it's filthy.
The plan as of now is pretty low key, so that may bode well for the J-Man's stomach. I'll provide a recap of some of the highlights...with the exception of Scott receiving an "Unhappy Gorilla" from a stripper...when I get back on Monday. Enjoy your weekends.
And, yes, I just made up the term "Unhappy Gorilla" as I was writing, but I have some ideas of what it could be, and it's filthy.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Here's a breakdown
of the disaster that was Vegas '06 - NCAA Sweet Sixteen. I may have missed or blacked out some of the events, but perhaps some things are better left forgotten. Enjoy:
DAY 1
-We arrived at the airport at 9:30 PM, and the four of us are already pretty shitfaced after providing our own beverages during the flight (not sure if that's legal?). I checked my bag, which drew rave reviews from the other guys as we had to wait for it, but I wasn't about to carry that shit around with me all day.
-After a quick cab ride, we're at the Mandalay Bay and the room situation is squared away. It's off to the tables. I should have protested playing at these tables since they have the immediate autoshuffler (not even a full shoe before it shuffles), which I never seem to do well on, but unfortunately I was too drunk to care. And that's where the problems began.
-After floating at one table with my initial $200 for a while, I switched tables to play with some of the other guys. The bad news is that I colored out and with only two black chips ($100 each), I felt it was in my best interests to bet one of them on my first hand at the new table. Unfortunately, I won. Yes, I said "Unfortunately, I won". You see if I had lost, perhaps my drunken mind would have seen the error of this bet and stopped me early. Sadly, this was not the case and soon I was down $600. Did I mention that a pimp came down and sat next to me at the table and referred to the black chips as the "Soul Brother Chips?"
-I left the table in disgust and went over to the craps area with Bristow, who gave me a quick lesson. After watching for a while, I joined in. With the help of the dealers (who were pretty nice, so I was tipping well), I won back about $220 of the blackjack money I had lost...and called it a night at 4:30 AM (nearly 24 hours after I had woken up that day)
DAY 2
-For some reason, waking up at 8 AM seemed OK, and after a shower and a trip to McDonald's, it was time to wander the strip. We walked to New York, New York and had a round of beers at the ESPNZone and then walked a little further down to the Monte Carlo to look for nice cheap blackjack tables. We found a $5 table but it only slowed the losing, as we were all down soon enough. A second day of transitioning to craps saved the afternoon and it was back to the Mandalay Bay and House of Blues for some grub. Everything is still going pretty smoothly, nothing too crazy to speak of.
-And then something really weird happens. I really won't go into details because it may cause one of my readers to curl up in a ball and cry, so I'll just leave it at this. TWO DRAGONS!
-After wandering out of this debacle, things only headed down hill, and here's where I'll just throw some quick notes at you.
-I wake up in disgust, realizing that I am now down $1100 and still thinking back to the Two Dragons. There's only one way to make myself feel better...In and Out Burger.
-OK, I was wrong about that. Three days of drinking and eating garbage have caught up to me and the patrons of the Excalibur Casino bathroom paid the price after we walked back.
-Back to the tables...and we start with blackjack, where we get the casino to switch an empty table from $25 to $10, since we were going to fill the table. It is now 11:30 AM.
-The table is going pretty well for everyone but Eddo, who is down over $2000 on the trip and can't seem to catch a break. He is FAR from done though. The same can not be said for Mike, who has been sucking back Bud Lights like it is his job and has regressed to the brain capacity of a small infant. Here's Mike every five minutes: He has a twelve and takes a hit. He pulls a 3, so he takes a second hit. This time he pulls a 9, so the dealer jokingly covers the 3 to make it look like he has 21. Mike gets excited...then sadly disappointed when she shows him the 3 again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twenty times, I need to go to bed. This is a constant joke for the table as I turn to Mike and "disappear" by covering my face with my hands. It is now only 3 PM.
-I win a bit at this table, then move on to play some craps...where I lose it right back. We've spent way too long here and decide we should head back to the Mandalay Bay, after we eat a cheap dinner of Pizza Hut and Manchu Wok. It is now about 5:30 PM.
-Mike has gone to bed. Eddo is still playing blackjack at the same table. And Langley, Bristow, Pogue and I have regressed to the point that we are sitting in the corner of the Mandalay Bay bar, discussing who our black celebrity equivalent is. Here's what we came up with, with much debate: Me - Orlando Jones or Martin Lawrence; Langley - Biz Markie (he hates me for this one); Pogue - Bernie Mac; Bristow - Wesley Snipes (my suggestion) or Ving Rames or the guy who loses his starting running back position and Halle Berry to Omar Epps in "The Program."
This is what happens to you when you spend three days in Vegas. And Eddo is still sitting in the Excalibur playing blackjack.
DAY 1
-We arrived at the airport at 9:30 PM, and the four of us are already pretty shitfaced after providing our own beverages during the flight (not sure if that's legal?). I checked my bag, which drew rave reviews from the other guys as we had to wait for it, but I wasn't about to carry that shit around with me all day.
-After a quick cab ride, we're at the Mandalay Bay and the room situation is squared away. It's off to the tables. I should have protested playing at these tables since they have the immediate autoshuffler (not even a full shoe before it shuffles), which I never seem to do well on, but unfortunately I was too drunk to care. And that's where the problems began.
-After floating at one table with my initial $200 for a while, I switched tables to play with some of the other guys. The bad news is that I colored out and with only two black chips ($100 each), I felt it was in my best interests to bet one of them on my first hand at the new table. Unfortunately, I won. Yes, I said "Unfortunately, I won". You see if I had lost, perhaps my drunken mind would have seen the error of this bet and stopped me early. Sadly, this was not the case and soon I was down $600. Did I mention that a pimp came down and sat next to me at the table and referred to the black chips as the "Soul Brother Chips?"
-I left the table in disgust and went over to the craps area with Bristow, who gave me a quick lesson. After watching for a while, I joined in. With the help of the dealers (who were pretty nice, so I was tipping well), I won back about $220 of the blackjack money I had lost...and called it a night at 4:30 AM (nearly 24 hours after I had woken up that day)
DAY 2
-For some reason, waking up at 8 AM seemed OK, and after a shower and a trip to McDonald's, it was time to wander the strip. We walked to New York, New York and had a round of beers at the ESPNZone and then walked a little further down to the Monte Carlo to look for nice cheap blackjack tables. We found a $5 table but it only slowed the losing, as we were all down soon enough. A second day of transitioning to craps saved the afternoon and it was back to the Mandalay Bay and House of Blues for some grub. Everything is still going pretty smoothly, nothing too crazy to speak of.
-And then something really weird happens. I really won't go into details because it may cause one of my readers to curl up in a ball and cry, so I'll just leave it at this. TWO DRAGONS!
-After wandering out of this debacle, things only headed down hill, and here's where I'll just throw some quick notes at you.
- We went to Aladdin to play craps and soon I was being heckled by complete strangers thanks to the support of my friends, who didn't like my ability to throw winning dice.
- We lucked out into having a friend who could get us into the Foundation Bar on the roof of the Mandalay Bay, so we headed up there for some drinks...and some Jager Bombs...and some more drinks...and another round of Jager Bombs...and then I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. Luckily, a false alarm but when I returned, my nearly full drink had disappeared. I asked the bartender what happened to it and she looked down the bar and saw a full drink a ways down. Had I been more sober, I would have realized that I had never stood at that part of the bar, and perhaps her shrugging as she handed it to me should have been my tip that bad times were to come. After a quick swig, I "informed" her that it was not my drink...but she was nice enough to pour me another one. Maybe she should have cut me off instead.
- Fast forward to another blackjack table (why did I go in my state) where I changed in $200 more dollars and when I went to grab my stack of chips had them spill in front of me. What I didn't realize is that the stack was so tall that I didn't even grab all the chips and I accidently left $75 of it (3 quarter chips) sitting on the table, which promptly got dealt a losing hand. Maybe I should go to bed? NOPE
- I find my buddies and we wander (truly the best word for this) around the Mandalay Bay wherein Eddo has two of the most ridiculous encounters of the trip.
- A huge breasted latina woman walks by, to which Eddo states loud enough for all to hear, "Yeah, those aren't real" Of course, she hears this and comes right up to him, apparently pissed. A quick save by Pogue and Eddo is smoothing things out. Smoothing them out so well that the next thing I notice is that she is asking Eddo to feel her fake breasts and yelling at him for not squeezing them like a man. I swear it looked like he was testing out some new furniture, the way he turned to me and Pogue and nodded, "why yes, these do feel nice."
- After this exchange, Eddo is beaming and when three ladies walk by, he asks them where they're heading off to. To which he got this reply, "I don't know, but you should go to bed." You know what, I think she's right...and I'm off to bed.
-I wake up in disgust, realizing that I am now down $1100 and still thinking back to the Two Dragons. There's only one way to make myself feel better...In and Out Burger.
-OK, I was wrong about that. Three days of drinking and eating garbage have caught up to me and the patrons of the Excalibur Casino bathroom paid the price after we walked back.
-Back to the tables...and we start with blackjack, where we get the casino to switch an empty table from $25 to $10, since we were going to fill the table. It is now 11:30 AM.
-The table is going pretty well for everyone but Eddo, who is down over $2000 on the trip and can't seem to catch a break. He is FAR from done though. The same can not be said for Mike, who has been sucking back Bud Lights like it is his job and has regressed to the brain capacity of a small infant. Here's Mike every five minutes: He has a twelve and takes a hit. He pulls a 3, so he takes a second hit. This time he pulls a 9, so the dealer jokingly covers the 3 to make it look like he has 21. Mike gets excited...then sadly disappointed when she shows him the 3 again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twenty times, I need to go to bed. This is a constant joke for the table as I turn to Mike and "disappear" by covering my face with my hands. It is now only 3 PM.
-I win a bit at this table, then move on to play some craps...where I lose it right back. We've spent way too long here and decide we should head back to the Mandalay Bay, after we eat a cheap dinner of Pizza Hut and Manchu Wok. It is now about 5:30 PM.
-Mike has gone to bed. Eddo is still playing blackjack at the same table. And Langley, Bristow, Pogue and I have regressed to the point that we are sitting in the corner of the Mandalay Bay bar, discussing who our black celebrity equivalent is. Here's what we came up with, with much debate: Me - Orlando Jones or Martin Lawrence; Langley - Biz Markie (he hates me for this one); Pogue - Bernie Mac; Bristow - Wesley Snipes (my suggestion) or Ving Rames or the guy who loses his starting running back position and Halle Berry to Omar Epps in "The Program."
This is what happens to you when you spend three days in Vegas. And Eddo is still sitting in the Excalibur playing blackjack.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Never bet on black again
If there is one highlight that I can take from my trip to Vegas, it is that I finally learned how to play craps, a game that had always intimidated me in the past. But after having played for nearly 10 hours over the course of the weekend (maybe more, who can remember) I just came to the realization that I underappreciated a relatively solid bet at the table.
That bet is the "Field" bet. It is a one time bet wherein you throw any amount of money on it and if the following numbers roll, you win: 2, 3, 4, 9, 10, 11, 12. It pays double for the 2 and triple for the 12, with the others being even money payouts. At first, you would think this is a sucker's bet because the easiest numbers to throw are the 6, 7, 8, of which I placed many Come bets on or simple place bets on. But then I thought about it, here's the breakdown, I think:
To throw a 2, 3, 11 or 12, there's only one way each...so that makes four chances.
To throw a 4, 9 or 10, there are two ways to throw each (i.e. 1+3 and 2+2 for four)...so that adds six more chances.
So there are 10 ways to win this bet.
On the opposite side:
To throw a 6, 7, or 8, there are three ways to throw each (i.e. 1+5, 2+4, 3+3 for six)...so that makes nine chances to win.
There are two ways to throw a 5...so that adds two more chances.
So there are 11 ways to lose this bet.
So, in total, you have a 10 out of 21 chance of winning, or 47.6%, plus there's a 9.5% chance (2 out of 21) that you'll win more than even money.
Compare this with someone betting on black in a roulette game. There you've got 18 black numbers, where you can win, and 18 red numbers where you'll lose. Plus you've got either a '0' or a '00' in there too. If a table has both, that means you have an 18 out of 38 chance of winning or 47.4% chance...and a 0% chance of winning more than even money.
So, now I know, and I pass this piece of info on to you.
Never bet on black again.
Oh, and here's another piece of advice...beer is not your friend at the tables, even if it is free.
That bet is the "Field" bet. It is a one time bet wherein you throw any amount of money on it and if the following numbers roll, you win: 2, 3, 4, 9, 10, 11, 12. It pays double for the 2 and triple for the 12, with the others being even money payouts. At first, you would think this is a sucker's bet because the easiest numbers to throw are the 6, 7, 8, of which I placed many Come bets on or simple place bets on. But then I thought about it, here's the breakdown, I think:
To throw a 2, 3, 11 or 12, there's only one way each...so that makes four chances.
To throw a 4, 9 or 10, there are two ways to throw each (i.e. 1+3 and 2+2 for four)...so that adds six more chances.
So there are 10 ways to win this bet.
On the opposite side:
To throw a 6, 7, or 8, there are three ways to throw each (i.e. 1+5, 2+4, 3+3 for six)...so that makes nine chances to win.
There are two ways to throw a 5...so that adds two more chances.
So there are 11 ways to lose this bet.
So, in total, you have a 10 out of 21 chance of winning, or 47.6%, plus there's a 9.5% chance (2 out of 21) that you'll win more than even money.
Compare this with someone betting on black in a roulette game. There you've got 18 black numbers, where you can win, and 18 red numbers where you'll lose. Plus you've got either a '0' or a '00' in there too. If a table has both, that means you have an 18 out of 38 chance of winning or 47.4% chance...and a 0% chance of winning more than even money.
So, now I know, and I pass this piece of info on to you.
Never bet on black again.
Oh, and here's another piece of advice...beer is not your friend at the tables, even if it is free.
Hurting...
Got back from Vegas last night at 9:30 after losing $1400 playing blackjack and craps, only getting 4 hours of sleep each night, and drinking nearly every moment I wasn't asleep. Of course, when I finally got back into town, I couldn't find the shuttle bus to drive me to where my car was parked at Dulles airport...so I had to walk to the garage.
Needless to say, I'm pretty beat up right now as I'm wrapping up here at work with my only plan being to go home and sleep. I'll give you a more in depth analysis of the weekend tomorrow.
Needless to say, I'm pretty beat up right now as I'm wrapping up here at work with my only plan being to go home and sleep. I'll give you a more in depth analysis of the weekend tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Twas the Night Before Vegas
And I just can not wait,
For the Round of 16 and then Elite 8.
My bags were packed, three nights I would stay,
Next stop for those bags is the Mandalay Bay.
It's almost 11 and soon I'll be in bed,
With visions of blackjacks and covering the spread.
Let's not forget roulette and possibly craps,
And of course there's the Captain and whatever's on tap.
As I doze off to sleep, I can just hear the ringing,
It sure ain't Santa, it's old people winning.
They love the slots, though I'll steer clear,
But who am I to judge, it's all good here.
I'll sit for six hours and try to get comped,
But that bastard at the Palms will stiff me again and I'll have to pay for a steak and eggs with cash...which really sucks.
That last part didn't rhyme, but it really got me pissed,
Just think of all the fun that most of you missed.
Then it's on to the pool, my favorite place to be,
Because someone else is cleaning it, yep, not me.
I'll take in the rays as well as the view,
Don't try and judge me, you know you will too.
So wish me Bon Voyage as I head on my trip,
New Christmas for me is right on The Strip.
Where it's beer and sun and a gambler's delight,
So without further ado, I bid you good night.
For the Round of 16 and then Elite 8.
My bags were packed, three nights I would stay,
Next stop for those bags is the Mandalay Bay.
It's almost 11 and soon I'll be in bed,
With visions of blackjacks and covering the spread.
Let's not forget roulette and possibly craps,
And of course there's the Captain and whatever's on tap.
As I doze off to sleep, I can just hear the ringing,
It sure ain't Santa, it's old people winning.
They love the slots, though I'll steer clear,
But who am I to judge, it's all good here.
I'll sit for six hours and try to get comped,
But that bastard at the Palms will stiff me again and I'll have to pay for a steak and eggs with cash...which really sucks.
That last part didn't rhyme, but it really got me pissed,
Just think of all the fun that most of you missed.
Then it's on to the pool, my favorite place to be,
Because someone else is cleaning it, yep, not me.
I'll take in the rays as well as the view,
Don't try and judge me, you know you will too.
So wish me Bon Voyage as I head on my trip,
New Christmas for me is right on The Strip.
Where it's beer and sun and a gambler's delight,
So without further ado, I bid you good night.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Professionally Done?
As most of you know, I run a swimming pool company. I've been doing this since I took over in 2000 and have handled a range of duties within my small company including preparing advertising; hiring and firing employees; training employees; scheduling work; meeting with new clients; scoping out new jobs; acting as a construction general contractor; preparing formal work contracts; preparing our finances for our accountant, and, of course, actually performing every aspect of pool service and equipment repair.
With such a wide range of tasks to handle in my typical day, I think I've sort of taken for granted the fact that I am a "professional" within my particular industry. It's odd but I still see myself as J-Man, the guy who has a girlfriend, dog and cat at home, went to a liberal arts school, and hangs out with his buddies playing sports and drinking beers every week. And when I'm out on a job doing the work, it's just the J-Man trying to get the task done to the best of my abilities. But, then it dawns on me...I am also an expert in my field and when someone calls me out to their pool, they are doing so because they don't know how to do something that I do.
I know this all sounds very simple and basic, and maybe I'm not quite explaining it well enough, but when I'm done with a job and I look at the work I've done, I'm usually proud of what I've done, but I always ask myself in the back of my head, "What would a professional have done here?"
Now, maybe I'm alone in this line of thinking, but it lead me to ask myself recently, "What is a professional job?" And "Does anyone ever feel like they've accomplished it, or are we always thinking that we're just a typical guy (or girl) doing it to the best of our abilities and wondering what this fictitious 'professional' would have done differently?"
Perhaps it's this 'professional' that keeps us driven in our own work and our own lives to continue to do better, even though we may only catch him once and a while in that level of perfection in what we are capable of doing.
And last week, I think I finally caught him.
With such a wide range of tasks to handle in my typical day, I think I've sort of taken for granted the fact that I am a "professional" within my particular industry. It's odd but I still see myself as J-Man, the guy who has a girlfriend, dog and cat at home, went to a liberal arts school, and hangs out with his buddies playing sports and drinking beers every week. And when I'm out on a job doing the work, it's just the J-Man trying to get the task done to the best of my abilities. But, then it dawns on me...I am also an expert in my field and when someone calls me out to their pool, they are doing so because they don't know how to do something that I do.
I know this all sounds very simple and basic, and maybe I'm not quite explaining it well enough, but when I'm done with a job and I look at the work I've done, I'm usually proud of what I've done, but I always ask myself in the back of my head, "What would a professional have done here?"
Now, maybe I'm alone in this line of thinking, but it lead me to ask myself recently, "What is a professional job?" And "Does anyone ever feel like they've accomplished it, or are we always thinking that we're just a typical guy (or girl) doing it to the best of our abilities and wondering what this fictitious 'professional' would have done differently?"
Perhaps it's this 'professional' that keeps us driven in our own work and our own lives to continue to do better, even though we may only catch him once and a while in that level of perfection in what we are capable of doing.
And last week, I think I finally caught him.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Always bet on black...and red
Yes, it is that time of year again. Time for the NCAA Tournament and time for me to head to Las Vegas. It's no coincidence that the two have fallen into the same general timeframe twice in the last three years. There's just something about the NCAA Tournament that makes me want to wager money on teams I have never heard of before. It's sort of like 16 Kentucky Derbys all in one day, then again the next day. So why wouldn't you want to be in a place where gambling is the main attraction...feed the sickness.
Sadly, this time around I'm gonna have to wait til the Sweet 16 to do my Vegas gambling, as I won't be leaving until this Thursday, and I'll have a build up post sometime this week I'm sure.
Since I wasn't in Vegas the last two days, I had to do my gambling online. Last year, this didn't turn out too well for me and as you've been reading, my luck hasn't been that great lately, but this year I had some insider knowledge. I would have shared it with you earlier, but you might have changed the lines. So, sorry, you're loss. Here's the insider tip...bet on black..and red. Yep, the black and red of the Fighting Wildcats of my alma mater, Davidson College.
The 'Cats were matched up against Ohio State in a first round game, and the crafty veterans of Davidson were certainly not going to roll over like Belmont or some shit like that. Davidson went undefeated in the Southern Conference last year, only to lose in the tournament and go to the NIT. Oh yeah, and there they won their first two games only to fall to Maryland after leading by as much as 16. Now, they were a year older, only lost one player, and came off a schedule that included games against UNC, Duke, Syracuse, Charlotte, St. Joe's, Missouri, UMass, and of course, a Southern Conference Tournament Championship.
So what do the generous people of Sportsbook.com put them at...10.5 point underdogs. Sign me up.
The 'Cats fought hard, and even had a 4 point lead at the half. Could this turn out as only the 5th ever #15 over #2? Unfortunately, the perimeter game for OSU picked it up in the second half, allowing their big man to become a presence, while Davidson, and their star shooting guard, Brendan Winters, struggled to make a basket. The result was a 70-62 loss and an elimination for the Wildcats and an end for four of their best players collegiate careers.
In watching this game, I realized why college basketball is so popular. Why fans of college sports are the most fanatic of them all...me included. It's because we were a part of this. I went to this school. I watched these guys play (well, not these particular guys) and cheered their shots and saw them walking around campus and hanging out at our parties. And it is because of that, that I recognize how amazing it is for a school of 1700 people (of which, I used to be one), where we could walk into the game at any point and sit right behind the bench, and where most of the players will be bankers or lawyers after graduation to be matching up against a school that fills 50,000 seat stadiums for their football program and has sent Michael Redd and Jim Jackson on to the NBA.
And I was and am a part of that. And always will be. You just don't get that with a pro team.
And you don't get $100 for betting on Davidson covering the spread. Hell yeah!
Sadly, this time around I'm gonna have to wait til the Sweet 16 to do my Vegas gambling, as I won't be leaving until this Thursday, and I'll have a build up post sometime this week I'm sure.
Since I wasn't in Vegas the last two days, I had to do my gambling online. Last year, this didn't turn out too well for me and as you've been reading, my luck hasn't been that great lately, but this year I had some insider knowledge. I would have shared it with you earlier, but you might have changed the lines. So, sorry, you're loss. Here's the insider tip...bet on black..and red. Yep, the black and red of the Fighting Wildcats of my alma mater, Davidson College.
The 'Cats were matched up against Ohio State in a first round game, and the crafty veterans of Davidson were certainly not going to roll over like Belmont or some shit like that. Davidson went undefeated in the Southern Conference last year, only to lose in the tournament and go to the NIT. Oh yeah, and there they won their first two games only to fall to Maryland after leading by as much as 16. Now, they were a year older, only lost one player, and came off a schedule that included games against UNC, Duke, Syracuse, Charlotte, St. Joe's, Missouri, UMass, and of course, a Southern Conference Tournament Championship.
So what do the generous people of Sportsbook.com put them at...10.5 point underdogs. Sign me up.
The 'Cats fought hard, and even had a 4 point lead at the half. Could this turn out as only the 5th ever #15 over #2? Unfortunately, the perimeter game for OSU picked it up in the second half, allowing their big man to become a presence, while Davidson, and their star shooting guard, Brendan Winters, struggled to make a basket. The result was a 70-62 loss and an elimination for the Wildcats and an end for four of their best players collegiate careers.
In watching this game, I realized why college basketball is so popular. Why fans of college sports are the most fanatic of them all...me included. It's because we were a part of this. I went to this school. I watched these guys play (well, not these particular guys) and cheered their shots and saw them walking around campus and hanging out at our parties. And it is because of that, that I recognize how amazing it is for a school of 1700 people (of which, I used to be one), where we could walk into the game at any point and sit right behind the bench, and where most of the players will be bankers or lawyers after graduation to be matching up against a school that fills 50,000 seat stadiums for their football program and has sent Michael Redd and Jim Jackson on to the NBA.
And I was and am a part of that. And always will be. You just don't get that with a pro team.
And you don't get $100 for betting on Davidson covering the spread. Hell yeah!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Fantasy Baseball 2006
Well, I have finally completed all of my fantasy baseball drafts for the year, which really means the battle has just begun. I'm coming off my best year of fantasy baseball finishing 1st, 4th, 4th, and 8th in my four leagues last year. This year, I've dropped it down to three leagues, which may allow me to keep all the numbers in the money...but who knows. As you all may or may not recall, I made some player predictions last year, which I must say turned out to be not so bad.
Therefore, in an attempt to help those of you with fantasy drafts still looming, here are my boom and bust picks for 2006:
Players to Avoid:
5. Josh Beckett - He's gonna have a lot of hype behind him now that he's playing with the big boys in the AL East. That hype is your worst nightmare. Most pitchers have a terrible time switching from the NL to the AL and going from the pitcher-friendly NL East to the pitcher-deadly AL East is reason enough to leave Beckett to some Beantown homer.
4. Barry Bonds - He was on my list last year and didn't fail to prove me right. This year shouldn't be as bad of an issue, but I wouldn't be surprised to see him quit playing in the middle of the season if the Giants fall out of contention...sighting a lack of desire. Steer clear.
3. Felix Hernandez - The kid is still a good pickup in keeper leagues, but I would avoid him in the one and done leagues. He's not gonna get the amount of innings you want for the pick you're gonna have to use to get him, and ALL young pitchers hit bumps early on...I don't care how much of a phenom he is. Check back on him in 2007-2008.
2. Gary Sheffield - I've just got a bad feeling about Sheff this year. I don't think he was too pleased with the antics that occurred in the off-season and when he's in a bad mood, you can expect the "injuries" to pop up and the stats to drop down. If you love the Yankees, there are plenty of others to choose from.
1. Chase Utley - Don't believe the hype. In some circles this guy is considered a first round pick. Yes, he's the magical age of 27, but stud players don't hit lefties as bad as this guy does. It's gonna bring his stats down and you'll be sitting with a 1st or 2nd round pick who's batting .260-80-15-60-8. Not terrible for a second basemen, but terrible for a second player. You'd be better off taking Placido Polanco six rounds later.
And now, the picks to click:
5. Shawn Chacon - You may be able to grab this guy with one of your last picks and he could turn out to be the best pitcher on the Yankees this season. It's hard to gauge how good a pitcher can be when he plays his entire career in Colorado, but he's only 28 and he had a strong showing with the Yankees at the end of last season. He's certainly gonna get run support, and you could do a lot worse. I'd put him at a very generous 15 Wins, 150K, 3.80 ERA, 1.30 WHIP.
4. Travis Bowyer - Here's my cinderella pick for the year. He's a closer-to-be sitting down in Florida behind (or next to) Joe Borowski. He definitely has the stuff to close and will likely be the next along the lines of Lidge-F.Rodriguez-Ryan as a setup man with high Ks converted to full-time closer. Take a flier on him, or his AL counterpart Rafael Soriano (yes, I said it), and enjoy the Ks until the saves start flowing in. (I took them both in my keeper league). I'd expect 2 Wins, 17 SV, 75K, 2.50 ERA, 1.20 WHIP.
3. Jimmy Rollins - He was one of my second half picks to click and he did not let me down. This guy is the complete package and he's only getting better. Think about all the hype Carl Crawford gets, then put him at a more scarce position. He'll be a first round pick next year, so grab him in the 2nd or 3rd this year while you still can. I'm predicting a silly line of .300-120-18-70-45.
2. Ryan Howard - Yes, another Philly. This guy is the real deal and a 40-HR season is easily within his grasp. If you've already had an auction, you probably got in as low as possible, because his stock is rising every day he adds to his Spring Training homerun tally. Let's say he'll go around .275-85-38-95-0 this year.
1. Adrian Beltre - Most people in your league have probably had Beltre at some point in the past, and are going to be very bitter about this guy after all the bad seasons he's produced, then the one monster, followed by last year's less than stellar outing. But he's turning 27 this year...yes, the magical age. So, you've got a guy who's been in the league a while and disappointed on most occassions but is about to turn 27. I've heard of a guy like this...last year's number one pick, Andruw Jones. Lightning will strike again. Grab this guy and expect numbers close to my Howard projections.
And those are my fantasy baseball picks for this year. I'll have to check back in July and see how I'm doing at the halfway point.
Therefore, in an attempt to help those of you with fantasy drafts still looming, here are my boom and bust picks for 2006:
Players to Avoid:
5. Josh Beckett - He's gonna have a lot of hype behind him now that he's playing with the big boys in the AL East. That hype is your worst nightmare. Most pitchers have a terrible time switching from the NL to the AL and going from the pitcher-friendly NL East to the pitcher-deadly AL East is reason enough to leave Beckett to some Beantown homer.
4. Barry Bonds - He was on my list last year and didn't fail to prove me right. This year shouldn't be as bad of an issue, but I wouldn't be surprised to see him quit playing in the middle of the season if the Giants fall out of contention...sighting a lack of desire. Steer clear.
3. Felix Hernandez - The kid is still a good pickup in keeper leagues, but I would avoid him in the one and done leagues. He's not gonna get the amount of innings you want for the pick you're gonna have to use to get him, and ALL young pitchers hit bumps early on...I don't care how much of a phenom he is. Check back on him in 2007-2008.
2. Gary Sheffield - I've just got a bad feeling about Sheff this year. I don't think he was too pleased with the antics that occurred in the off-season and when he's in a bad mood, you can expect the "injuries" to pop up and the stats to drop down. If you love the Yankees, there are plenty of others to choose from.
1. Chase Utley - Don't believe the hype. In some circles this guy is considered a first round pick. Yes, he's the magical age of 27, but stud players don't hit lefties as bad as this guy does. It's gonna bring his stats down and you'll be sitting with a 1st or 2nd round pick who's batting .260-80-15-60-8. Not terrible for a second basemen, but terrible for a second player. You'd be better off taking Placido Polanco six rounds later.
And now, the picks to click:
5. Shawn Chacon - You may be able to grab this guy with one of your last picks and he could turn out to be the best pitcher on the Yankees this season. It's hard to gauge how good a pitcher can be when he plays his entire career in Colorado, but he's only 28 and he had a strong showing with the Yankees at the end of last season. He's certainly gonna get run support, and you could do a lot worse. I'd put him at a very generous 15 Wins, 150K, 3.80 ERA, 1.30 WHIP.
4. Travis Bowyer - Here's my cinderella pick for the year. He's a closer-to-be sitting down in Florida behind (or next to) Joe Borowski. He definitely has the stuff to close and will likely be the next along the lines of Lidge-F.Rodriguez-Ryan as a setup man with high Ks converted to full-time closer. Take a flier on him, or his AL counterpart Rafael Soriano (yes, I said it), and enjoy the Ks until the saves start flowing in. (I took them both in my keeper league). I'd expect 2 Wins, 17 SV, 75K, 2.50 ERA, 1.20 WHIP.
3. Jimmy Rollins - He was one of my second half picks to click and he did not let me down. This guy is the complete package and he's only getting better. Think about all the hype Carl Crawford gets, then put him at a more scarce position. He'll be a first round pick next year, so grab him in the 2nd or 3rd this year while you still can. I'm predicting a silly line of .300-120-18-70-45.
2. Ryan Howard - Yes, another Philly. This guy is the real deal and a 40-HR season is easily within his grasp. If you've already had an auction, you probably got in as low as possible, because his stock is rising every day he adds to his Spring Training homerun tally. Let's say he'll go around .275-85-38-95-0 this year.
1. Adrian Beltre - Most people in your league have probably had Beltre at some point in the past, and are going to be very bitter about this guy after all the bad seasons he's produced, then the one monster, followed by last year's less than stellar outing. But he's turning 27 this year...yes, the magical age. So, you've got a guy who's been in the league a while and disappointed on most occassions but is about to turn 27. I've heard of a guy like this...last year's number one pick, Andruw Jones. Lightning will strike again. Grab this guy and expect numbers close to my Howard projections.
And those are my fantasy baseball picks for this year. I'll have to check back in July and see how I'm doing at the halfway point.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Brain Farts 5
I've got a couple quick stories to share and since no of them is especially in depth, I present to you my 5th installment of Brain Farts...not quite the whole shit, but still pretty amusing.
- The bad luck continued as some guys came by today to clean my gutters, since they saw they were really clogged while they were working next door. After getting up there to clean them out, they noticed that some of the wood that the gutters are attached to had rotted and the nails were popping out. Luckily, they would just need to drive new nails into the unrotted sections of wood. But wait, the caulking was also bad and needed to be redone. Sweet...here's $175. We're now up to $1919 for the bad luck streak. (The other four is from another poker loss yesterday afternoon)
- Yesterday, while walking home from Adam's Morgan after a night of drinking, I came up with a brilliant idea for my buddy Scott's bachelor party in NYC, which is in three weeks. Mind you, I was drunk when I thought of this, so bear with me. He will partake in a "scavenger hunt" that will include things such as carrying open condoms, naked pictures from a porn magazine, and other dumb stuff. This will not actually be scavenged for, this is merely to give some credibility to the real goal...seeing boobs and butts. Now that he has "completed" these portions of the scavenger hunt, all that remains is....having his picture taken next to a pair of random boobs and buttcheeks. Having seen a bachelorette party do the opposite thing, I feel we might have a chance. And the key is, we're not going to set a clear number of boobs and/or buttcheeks that must be photographed, though I'm thinking the total may be somewhere around the 0 range, though we may get a few pictures of my buddy getting slapped, which might be just as good. Uh, no. No, it isn't.
- When I arrived home last night, my girlfriend was still out following the bridal shower for her co-worker, Crystal. So I decided to fry myself up some chicken fingers since I wouldn't be disturbing anybody (hot oil + drunken person = good times). Thankfully, I did not burn the place down...only the roof of my mouth. However, when Amy and her gay co-worker arrived back at our place, I had this classic exchange.
Me: So what did you do tonight babe? (slurring, more than likely)
Amy: We finished dinner and then headed to Crystal's place since some of the people were being lame and didn't want to go out.
Me: Really, why not?
Amy: They were just complaining that they were tired and wanted to just go home.
Me: That shit is gay!
-Awkward silence-
Me: Woops. Uh, sorry Sean.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Bad Luck Continues
Well, the bad luck streak has apparently stretched past the 24-hour period and I'm hoping that an end is near, or I'm gonna lose it.
I get to work this morning to find that my cell. phone has been shut off because somehow Sprint...together with Nextel...has botched our billing address somehow and we haven't gotten, and therefore haven't paid for the bill in two months. I love how they just shut off your service and force you to call them, rather than simply call you to request payment on an overdue invoice. Luckily, I'm back up now.
But merely an hour after this fiasco, my brother is outside trying to attach some automatic pool cover track to the top of one of our trucks and asks for my help. I go out to help him and after we hoist the track onto the roof rack, he decides to scale the back of the truck to get on top. Of course he does this by pointing his foot right onto the back window and pushing off to pull himself up...and in pops the window. FUCK!!
And I assume I failed to mention before that one of my other employees backed this same truck into the bottom of our warehouse garage door, tearing off the bottom of the wood, shattering a pane of glass in the door, causing us to call a repair company in to fix it. Of course, they came and fucked the door up even more, after replacing all the bearings, which didn't need to be fixed in the first place. So now I have a door with a broken spring (they broke it), a broken bottom panel (they broke the one that they brought to replace the one we broke), a new broken pane of glass (they broke it when the spring broke) and they haven't been back all week to fix this problem.
So I'm now without $1740 from poker and Infiniti, without cell. phone service, without a back window in one of my trucks, and without a functional bay door three weeks before the start of my busy season.
Did I mention I'm going to Vegas in two weeks?
I get to work this morning to find that my cell. phone has been shut off because somehow Sprint...together with Nextel...has botched our billing address somehow and we haven't gotten, and therefore haven't paid for the bill in two months. I love how they just shut off your service and force you to call them, rather than simply call you to request payment on an overdue invoice. Luckily, I'm back up now.
But merely an hour after this fiasco, my brother is outside trying to attach some automatic pool cover track to the top of one of our trucks and asks for my help. I go out to help him and after we hoist the track onto the roof rack, he decides to scale the back of the truck to get on top. Of course he does this by pointing his foot right onto the back window and pushing off to pull himself up...and in pops the window. FUCK!!
And I assume I failed to mention before that one of my other employees backed this same truck into the bottom of our warehouse garage door, tearing off the bottom of the wood, shattering a pane of glass in the door, causing us to call a repair company in to fix it. Of course, they came and fucked the door up even more, after replacing all the bearings, which didn't need to be fixed in the first place. So now I have a door with a broken spring (they broke it), a broken bottom panel (they broke the one that they brought to replace the one we broke), a new broken pane of glass (they broke it when the spring broke) and they haven't been back all week to fix this problem.
So I'm now without $1740 from poker and Infiniti, without cell. phone service, without a back window in one of my trucks, and without a functional bay door three weeks before the start of my busy season.
Did I mention I'm going to Vegas in two weeks?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
A String of Bad Luck
Apparently, I walked under a ladder or broke a mirror sometime yesterday, because my luck has been absolutely horrible the last twenty four hours...though I hope it is just a 24 hour thing.
The bad luck began to show itself last night at my regular poker game. I hadn't been playing all that well, but I was holding my own through the first game when an opportunity arose where I could put one of the other guys all in. I took the shot and he called after the flop. We flipped our cards to show that I had a substantial lead and it would take some amazing luck...bad in my case, for him to pull this one out. Needless to say, I got cut in half on a terrible river card and scrambled to try and regroup.
I pulled together a couple good hands, but still sat with a significantly smaller stack than the others. My time had come to make a move, I had an ace and after the flop only crappy cards were showing. I made the bold all in move, hoping to take the first round's worth of betting and walk away, but the last guy to bet called me...with an 9-6 of hearts, with two hearts showing. I had the lead, but he was on a draw. Turn was not a heart or a pair for anyone...and then came the river...Ace of hearts. Truly a slap in the face card...and I was out.
More of the same in the second game, eventually getting beaten out by the same guy (Edwin, the Call Station). We both sat as the big and small blinds, and the flop came out 8-6-3, all different suits. I held the big blind special 8-6 off suit and figured there was no better time to go all in. Edwin promptly called (no shit) and flipped over 8-10 off suit. Turn was like a 7 and I called my own shot as the 10 flipped on the River and I went home...frightened by my extraordinary bad luck.
Thankfully, I did not get in a car accident or something on the way home, but I might as well have, as I took my car to the Infiniti dealer this morning to have my tires and brakes looked at, since the tires seemed worn and the brakes were kinda squeaking. And then I got the call...barely an hour ago.
"Mr. J-Man, it looks like you're gonna need new front brake pads and rotors, and all four of your tires need to be replaced. We'd also recommend an alignment with that. The total cost is gonna be about $1700 for all this work."
$1700!!!!!!
$1700!!!!!!
$1700!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Guess I should call my doctor now, so I can make an appointment for him to tell me I have cancer.
The bad luck began to show itself last night at my regular poker game. I hadn't been playing all that well, but I was holding my own through the first game when an opportunity arose where I could put one of the other guys all in. I took the shot and he called after the flop. We flipped our cards to show that I had a substantial lead and it would take some amazing luck...bad in my case, for him to pull this one out. Needless to say, I got cut in half on a terrible river card and scrambled to try and regroup.
I pulled together a couple good hands, but still sat with a significantly smaller stack than the others. My time had come to make a move, I had an ace and after the flop only crappy cards were showing. I made the bold all in move, hoping to take the first round's worth of betting and walk away, but the last guy to bet called me...with an 9-6 of hearts, with two hearts showing. I had the lead, but he was on a draw. Turn was not a heart or a pair for anyone...and then came the river...Ace of hearts. Truly a slap in the face card...and I was out.
More of the same in the second game, eventually getting beaten out by the same guy (Edwin, the Call Station). We both sat as the big and small blinds, and the flop came out 8-6-3, all different suits. I held the big blind special 8-6 off suit and figured there was no better time to go all in. Edwin promptly called (no shit) and flipped over 8-10 off suit. Turn was like a 7 and I called my own shot as the 10 flipped on the River and I went home...frightened by my extraordinary bad luck.
Thankfully, I did not get in a car accident or something on the way home, but I might as well have, as I took my car to the Infiniti dealer this morning to have my tires and brakes looked at, since the tires seemed worn and the brakes were kinda squeaking. And then I got the call...barely an hour ago.
"Mr. J-Man, it looks like you're gonna need new front brake pads and rotors, and all four of your tires need to be replaced. We'd also recommend an alignment with that. The total cost is gonna be about $1700 for all this work."
$1700!!!!!!
$1700!!!!!!
$1700!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Guess I should call my doctor now, so I can make an appointment for him to tell me I have cancer.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Say What?
Apparently, the whale in the arctic picture was a little too obscure for you guys last week, as none of the submitted captions were all that hilarious...so, I'm giving the nod to myself for the best caption. Perhaps things will be a bit better this time around. Please submit your own captions in the comments section. Enjoy:
Another weekend without any pussy.
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