I got a new chair in my office, and it is fucking ruining my life. You see, my previous chair, while nasty looking, had become part of my person. It fit me right, like a favorite hat. Sure, it was all sweaty and dirty, well-worn and owning strange smells. But still. It was my chair.
This new chair has all this lumbar-support bullshit, and it makes me sit up like church. I can’t get comfortable in the thing. And it is forcing me to type with proper posture, which makes me a sad working stiff. This is making me most miserable, and is contributing to my general feeling that this whole work-path thing is a leech on whatever energy I have to dedicate to whatever I am supposed to become.
Because I know it certainly can’t be this. Because this is… a really shitty sitting experience. Seriously. Posture prison and shit.
I played Texas Hold ’em in a little tournament this past weekend. For those who don’t know, Hold ’em is a card game where everyone involved pretends that a huge amount of statistical skill is required to win, and that the original psychological element present in all the five-card varieties of poker is for old people and Old West movies. Really, it’s just a way to simplify the original game so that anyone can play. And anyone can be led to believe that they could destroy Kenny Rogers if he were to show up at the table. Drop some “pocket jacks” on his ass and punch him in the face.
Well, when Craig plays, it’s all about the bluff. I try to bring that shit back into the game. Not because I want to re-hash the glory days of saloon five-card, where sharks got leaded, but because some of us are honestly UNLUCKY in cards. Statistically speaking, if you are always dealt bullshit cards, you will eventually be forced into a bluff (or you'll just get bled dry by the blinds), and then you will lose (and possibly cry as a result). And since I never get good hands, thereby never giving anyone reason to believe I have a good one once the bluffing commences, I lose with record-breaking speed. It is a wonder to behold.
Deal 1: 8 and 2, off-suit. Fold.
Deal 2: 3 and 10, off suit. Fold.
Deal 3: 5 and 10, off suit. Fold.
[Jesus, how did that dude get 2 aces? Shit ]
Deal 4: 2 and 7, off suit, Fold.
Deal 5: 3 and 8, off suit. Fold.
[A straight? How the hell did he do that, again?]
Deal 6: 8 and 2, off suit. Fucking fold.
Deal 7: 5 and 10, off suit. Fold and start thinking about naked chicks instead.
[A flush? Seriously? That guy just busted out a full house last hand. Fuck.]
Deal 8: 2 and 7, off suit. Fold before it even gets to my bet.
Deal 9: Fold without looking at cards to save myself some effort.
Deal 10: Jack and 3, off suit. Is that a face card? It’s been so long… ALL IN!!!!
Stand up, and lose to full house guy, who slaughtered beat my Jack-high hand.
So sweet.
So I suck pretty bad at Hold ‘em. Because the reality is, you MUST get good cards at SOME point if you are to ever win. And I rarely get decent, let alone good cards. So there’s that. I have no idea why I just typed all this shit out, but I’m not deleting it now.
My left knee is sooooooooo shot right now. I went jogging two days in a row, which sounds vaguely healthy, but not really. One has to have the right physical fitness to begin with, otherwise you’re just mashing all your joints together for no good reason. Tall or top-heavy folks are not built for running the same way as other runners are. Even beyond that, the theories fold all over on top of each other, spawning a whole industry of work-out guru types who make a killing off of "tailoring" individual exercise regimens for dedicated skin-sweaters. There’s a science to fitness, and that science is apparently really complicated. As in, you can exercise too much, too highly, too strongly, with incorrect frequency, at an improper heart-rate, and under the wrong moon-sign… and you’ll do nothing more than break your body and speed up your march to death. It’s true. Exercise can be the worst thing you will ever do to yourself, if executed improperly. Worse than china-binges, an all-Cinnabon diet, or joining the military. Well, maybe not the military, but you get the idea.
I’ll be back on the trails tomorrow though. ‘Cause I’m smart like that. Plus, I feel that this left knee is simply being a little bitch, and you can’t bow down to a little bitch by doing whatever its whiney ass demands. Right? Right.
And that goes for internal organs too. Like, say, a cry-baby liver for instance. Yes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
12 comments:
did you recieve my email?
thanks!
The World Series of Poker held in Las Vegas, in addition to the main event, features many smaller tournaments where variant styles of poker are played. Among these styles is one where the goal is the win with the worst hand. Maybe that is your niche?
Ten hands into a tournament, if one of the players goes all in pre-flop, the only playable hand would be pocket aces, and even there it would be debatable whether or not you would be better off walking away. Even if you were holding pocket kings or big slick, the chances are too great that you will wind up drawing dead.
I am, of course, assuming that you went all in pre-flop, since you would not do so with only jack high after seeing the flop.
If you went all in after someone up the button from you had bet in, then that obviously would not have been the optimal play with your hand. However, even the person up the button, when faced with an all in, would probably think seriously about folding the hand in many instances.
Assuming that to bet from an early position, one has to be holding a high pair or suited or unsuited AK or suited AQ or KQ in a table of ten players, there are many losing scenarios that would make folding the better call. In the classic showdown of a low pocket pair again unsuited AK, for example, the pocket pair has a 51-49 chance of winning.
mmmm...Cinnabon
Have a great weekend!
Anon1: That would definitely be my niche. However, I would probably end up with crazy straight flushes and four of a kinds if I was at that table.
Anon2: My all-in went down after the flop. The flop itself was a 3, 9, and 7, off-suit. Then a 4, as I remember. Low probability for a straight, no chance for a flush, and low probability that any had pocket doubles of any of those cards. That's when I went all in. Of course, the river was a seven, and the only remaining player (full house guy) had a 10 and a 7, so he caught his 3 of a kind. Killed me.
Glitz: thanks! You too!
The second i read that you had gone jogging I though to myself "Doesn't he sweat like an SOB?" And yes, those of us who are top heavy do not make the best joggers.
Even when i was running ona regular basis, I could never get really good, due to well, my amazing breasts. HA!
And you, I am back from a a bit of a break. I was busy with my move and what not.
I think it might work that way - I have a knack that would keep me winning if the point was to get the crappiest hand of non-facecard non-suited useless junk possible. Maybe if we happen to bump into each other at the card table we can get a side bet going for the crappiest crap!
Mammalara
My dad paid his way through college with poker, but the only advice he'll ever give me is "fold a lot." Glad to see someone's actions are in line with his words of advice... especially since his daughter spends her time at the Hold 'em table blushing a tell tale shade of maroon every time she has to bluff, or thinking about MTV reality shows when it gets boring. we should totally play sometime to see who sucks more.
Deb: Good to hear that your move went well! When I jog, I pretty much appear to melt. I sweat buckets of cigarette-smokey-whiskey-funk. I scare small children. It is fantastic.
MammaLara: Me, you and Cristin could have a crappiest crap-off, apparently. That sounds much more disgusting than I meant it to be.
Cristin: You think YOU suck? Oh yeah? I bet I could suck you under the TABLE! Okay. That was beyond inappropriate. I know. Couldn’t resist. Low hanging fruit and whatnot.
I would play you all in online hold ‘em tournaments, but I am FAR too lazy for such things. On top of that, they probably want money in exchange for playing, and my accountant has frozen all my assets until this whole “contraband trafficking” fiasco blows over. It’s crazy, but apparently it is illegal to put three Mexican Nationals, two buckets of horse tranquilizers, and two pounds of cut-rate blow in your trunk before trying to forge the Rio Grande at an undisclosed and remote/shallow section of the river.
Shit, no one told me.
You can mess with the gods but you can't mess with your knees. Be careful with that joint, do something low impact or something.
We're not made for running; that's why we made gunpowder.
Wouldn't be the worst thing I've had done to me under the table.
Am referring, of course, to crappy waitressing wages I was paid in college. Get your mind out of the gutter.
ZING!!! says the lady! Kick ass.
Lycan, I'm seriously considering swimming. Much less impact, and I'll have a fighting chance as walking if I live to sixty (doubtful, as the Reno bookies have me down with 65:1 odds that I'll peace-out at 42)
Post a Comment