As I sit here, sipping a nice SoCo on the rocks and playing poker, I wonder. I wonder about a lot of things. In light of the past few days, my wondering has particularly gone the wayward of marriage. Am I considering getting married? No. But I will tell you that I do wonder about it. Again, in light of the past few days, what, with my mother and her new husband, and my thoughts that my father probably got engaged (again). Sorry, Dad.
I know that I've written about this before... about how it doesn't matter how old you are and if you're not married it doesn't make you less of a person, but I see all that, and I see my two best friends that I never get to see, and it makes me wonder, and it confuses me. It makes me wonder; what if I'd have gone through with my engagement in 1997. What if I would have fought harder for Beth? What if the girl that I broke up with 5 years ago was the one? Well, the odds are that she probably wasn't.
Regardless, I still have to believe that through the years that I have made the right decisions. Statistics don't lie. The odds are that if I get married, I have a 50/50 shot of being divorced. Again, that's not me talking. Those are the facts. The fact that I'd have to give 50% of whatever meager possessions I own are going to someone else in the event that she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life with me is not a great bet. Would I be willing to gamble on the right horse? Sure... but I'd have to be pretty darn sure. If and when I get married, there's not going to be a doubt in my mind. It's not going to be one of those "well, I've been with this person for so long, and it's not great, but it's not horrible, so I might as well go to the next step." Wrong. Wrong answer. The very fact that you've just stayed with this person for whatever duration of time and you're not sure that it's great is the very justification that you should not, in fact, take the "next step."
The "next step," you must understand, is a whole other level. Everything changes. Yes, I said everything. The little things that now annoy you, yeah, they will grow to an incessant degree of pissing you off. {Quick sidebar... I just lost with pocket Jacks. That sucks.} Bear in mind, it's not that I'm bitter, it's just that I'd love better odds. It's, once again, like Vegas. You have pretty much a 50/50 shot on the red/black thing, but there's that double zero that throws the odds in the house's favor. If you had to wager everything you owned on a 50/50 shot, would you do it? Me either... unless, of course, my buddy Noah, was at my side saying, "cuz, I got a good feeling about black, hit it up for $200." If I had the same feeling, I'd probably lay it down and drop a couple hundred on black. Again, bear in mind that I trust my gut and I trust Noah. Nevertheless, it's the roll of that marble.
Now, let me say this. I just got down to the final table... that means me and some other clown are going head to head at 3:13 AM. Do I know what he has in his hand? No. I only know that I have J, 10 off suit and that I'm going all in. Turns out I lost. The other clown had Queens wired, and caught one on the flop. It happens. Ladies and gentlemen, the very same thing can happen well after you've exchanged vows. You could have pocket Aces, but she could be sitting on 3/6 off suit and nut the straight on the flop. You don't have that guarantee. While you may think that your Aces are golden pre-flop, you never know what somebody else has in their pocket. It's the luck of the draw, and you never know what the other person has in their pocket. Those of you that are in the situation that I previously mentioned should read that again.
Regardless, it's funny how I wind up with like $50 remaining, and I find myself at the final table every time. The cards just somehow seem to work out in my favor. Maybe that's a sign.
Anyway, I'm not going to take what the cards say as gospel. I'll just continue to play the game.
I've got pocket Kings, and some jerk just raised me. Think I'll see what happens on the turn before I fold.
Until next time...
R
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Hmmm...
Well, my loyal readers, yes, I know it's 9:10 AM and I'm on vacation all week, so you may be wondering what I'm doing up so early. I can't tell you. Sorry.
The real reason I'm up is that I have a big concern. I think President Bush is drinking again, and I have the video to confirm my suspicions. Click here and let me know what you think.
Until next time...
R
The real reason I'm up is that I have a big concern. I think President Bush is drinking again, and I have the video to confirm my suspicions. Click here and let me know what you think.
Until next time...
R
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Merry Christmas... I need a shower.
Well, here it is... the day before Christmas. Let us revel in all it's splendor and majesty. If you're done reveling, you can read on. If not, continue to revel, and read on later. Done? Good. Let's move on. As I write this, I'm at the old man's house in fabulous Jamestown. That fact will become relevant as you read on.
Well, let me tell you how my happy holiday started. Last night my sister and I had dinner with the old man, and then, much to the protest of my father, went out downtown in Jamestown, NY. Due to the fact that it's just about the most exciting place in the world, my sister and I refer to it as Jamesvegas. Regardless... we went out, hit a few of the "hot spots" in Jtown, and we were crocked by about midnight. Called a cab, headed home. I love calling a cab in this armpit of a city. It's $4 to anywhere in this megalopolis. Perfect. Anyway, when we got home, I made sloppy joes. Yes, you're impressed, and I know it. Sounds like a pretty average night, right? Well, let me tell you how I was roused from my pleasant holiday slumber this morning.
About 9:00, I hear someone knocking on the old man's front door. Since no one apparently is awake, I get my lazy ass out of bed, and go to see who, in the name of all that is holy, is knocking on the f'ing front door. Now, before you read on, let me preface this with a couple things. One, to look out of the front of the house, there are a few options; I can actually go downstairs and answer the door to whatever asshole is out there at 9 freaking AM on Christmas Eve, I can go through my father's room and look out his front window, I can go through my sister's room and do the same, or I can head out to the guest room and look down. Two, my sister is home with her dog and we left her alone for about three hours last night when we went to dinner. I chose the latter of the three options; I threw on the t-shirt I had on last night, and headed for the guest room. Now, bear in mind that I'm not really conscious. I was drinking Budweiser and Southern Comfort last night (not mixed together, moron), and I've had about, well, 9 hours of sleep. I'm not really in the game yet, and I'm not what one would call a morning person.
Anyway, to continue the story, I head for the guest room. After taking about two steps into this room, I feel something uncomfortable mash underneath my bare left foot. Now, remember... my sister is home with her dog and we left her alone for about 3 hours last night. Immediately, I'm stone cold sober and wide freaking awake. I look down, and there is dog shit strewn about the floor. If you're not quite getting the jist of what I'm saying here; first thing this morning I stepped in dog shit. Seeing as it was in the guest room, my guess is that the dog figured, "well, hey, I'm a guest, right?" By the way, my father was wide awake and on the phone in his bedroom, and the jackass at the front door was one of his clients that evidently had to show up at 9 freaking AM today and cause this mayhem.
I can't even impart to you the horror of stepping in dog shit, sans shoes. It's not pleasant. It's less than not pleasant. It's just terrible. It's like, well, it's like something. It's like ordering something in a restaurant that you're really excited for, and when the waitress brings it, she's got fresh stitches and there's a hair in the middle of the plate. It's just miserable. Stupid dog.
Anyway, that's going to be about it for the Christmas Eve post. My sister and I need to go to the palacial Chautauqua Mall so that she can get the old man a shirt. Me, I'm done with my shopping. I'm just going to look at the rest of the morlocks that didn't finish their shopping. Ever been to the Chautauqua Mall? It's a freaking leper colony in there.
I will leave you with one thing to amuse you through this holiday. Assuming you've seen Napoleon Dynamite, you'll find this to be just about the funniest thing ever.
Anyway, off to the mall... gotta pick up some slippers.
Until next time...
R
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Uh... had a little accident
Well, my loyal readers, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I went hunting this past weekend and I got something. The bad news is, well... figure it out for yourself. Merry Christmas.
Until next time...
R
Friday, December 09, 2005
The move... completed. Merry f'ing Xmas.
F'ing finally. The move is now complete. All the shit that I had in the old place is into the new place, and now I have a bigger place to store all my shit. There. Having said that, you, my loyal readers, get yet another apology. Sorry. Yes, I've had internet access since Monday of this week. Yes, I've been able to post since then. Yes, I've been neglecting the blog. Yes, I've been really f'ing tired from work this week, and finally... yes, I apologize. I won't say that it won't happen again, but sorry anyway. So there.
Wow, here we are... the very first post from the new corner apartment. Strap in. Here we go.
On that note, I have to thank my multitude of readers that have emailed me about the move... recommending moving companies, offering to help move my big f'ing TV & leather sectional couch, letting me know who to call about whatever. To you I must give a vote of thanks. I didn't actually utilize any of your advice; I have a couple of really great friends that helped me move all my shit, but regardless, your assistance is greatly appreciated.
You know, I figured that when I moved, everything would be just peaches & cream. Let me ask you; when was the last time that happened with regard to absolutely anything? I get all my shit in, and I'm all excited about the free laundry in the basement, and the gas for the dryer isn't turned on. I now have fourteen pounds of cold, wet clothes sitting in my laundry basket. I run home from working for 5 minutes, and park in the driveway in front of the house because I know I'm going to run right back out, and the guy from downstairs pulls in exactly at that minute and starts honking his horn. So now I have to run back downstairs and move my minivan to the back of the house for the 5 f'ing minutes that I'm actually going to be in the f'ing place. Timing is everything. But I digress. The landlord said that he'd have the dryer fixed by next week, and I learned to actually park if I have to come home for anything during the day. So far, it hasn't been a horrible process, but a couple hiccups have made it less than perfect. No, by the way, I don't bitch about everything.
All in all, it's been a good experience... so far. I guess time will tell if the juice was worth the squeeze. It's nice being in such a quiet place. I don't have the knuckleheads pounding on each other's walls when something is too loud like I did in the former corner apartment. I don't have a little weirdo potter banging on the door every 5 minutes, and there's no fat chick to steal my quarters from the dryer when I go out to smoke a cigarette... at least not that I know of; I guess it's possible that she's hiding in one of the nooks or crannies in the basement eating a bowl of Crisco just waiting to see me awkwardly meander through the intricacies of the cluttered laundry room, leave my laundry, and then spring into action like a ninja in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Much to her cholesterol-fueled quarter seeking rampage dismay, there will, in fact, be no quarters for her taking. I'd love to see the look on her bacon grease smeared face when she discovers that little nugget of information. "Ah ha!," I would bellow from the higher ground position like Obi Wan Kenobi after defeating Darth Vader/Anakin in Star Wars Episode III, "my quarters will no longer be victim to your thievery! Go get your own, you quarter stealing land monster quarter stealer!" Or something like that. By the way, if you haven't seen Episode III and I just ruined the ending for you... sorry. Get out of the house more and I won't have to do that again. I hope you've learned your lesson. Now, to continue.
Unfortunately, although I know I promised that I'd have pictures of the new apartment, sadly I do not. Yes, I could get off my lazy ass and snap a few with my digital camera, but quite frankly, I just don't have the energy. This week of work has been absolute hell, and I'm going to type this and take a nap. Maybe another time when I'm not working 15 hour days. Get over it, people.
There is one thing that I have to address. Well, I guess I don't really have to; as I've said many a time... this is my blog and I'll do whatever the hell I want. More accurately, I'll say that I want to... just because it's kind of bothering me and it's somewhat controversial. Having said that, read on at your own risk. I don't think anyone will outright be offended by whatever it is that I'm going to write. As a matter of fact, I'm not really sure what I'm going to write here... I never really do. I just sit down and start typing, and by some stroke of God's hand, people find their way here and start reading.
Regardless, here's what I'm going to write about. After reading this paragraph, you're on your own. I assume no risk of offending anyone... the oness is squarely on you.
There's a new film coming out this month called "Brokeback Mountain." If you're not familiar with the storyline, here it is; two cowboys start working together and subsequently fall in love. Yes, I said it and you read it correctly. It's a love story about two gay men. Just a quick sidebar here; ever see the South Park episode where an indie film festival comes to South Park and Cartman refuses to go because he says that all indie films are just about gay cowboys eating pudding? Kind of funny, although I don't know if there is any pudding eating or pudding eating references in the film. Insert gratuitous gay joke here. Done? Good. Let's move on.
Apparently, there has been some controversy about the film... you know, the whole gay thing is bad and wrong and gross and all that bullshit. The reason I know about this is because one of my best friends is gay, and happened to write about it in his blog. He got on a local message board about the movie, and people right here in Rochester were expressing opinions about it. I took the liberty of also logging on and reading some of the comments, and I have to say just one thing to those who oppose the film and have some unsubstantiated hatred of gay people; what's the big f'ing deal? If you oppose the film, don't pay your hard earned money to go see it. Don't freaking sit outside the theatre with your little picket signs and protest, don't post stuff on a message board saying that homosexuality is wrong and that all fags are going to hell, and lastly, don't waste your time. Seriously, now, aren't there more productive things that you could be doing with your life than degrading and annoying people who get enough shit from the general populous already? Jesus, I know I do. If there was a movie that came out about two diabetics that fell in love, would you bash them? Of course you wouldn't. Diabetes isn't a choice, and neither is being gay. Ask any gay person you know. If you say you don't know any, you're probably fooling yourself.
Now, before I go any further with this, let me say something and get it out of the way. I am not gay. I'm about as straight as they come. Having said that, it doesn't mean that I must, in fact, disassociate myself from that entire demographic. The only demographic that I willingly and publicly distance myself from is assholes. If you don't want to be around me, listen to me, be my friend, or read this blog just because it doesn't matter to me if someone is gay or straight, then the feeling is more than likely mutual. It simply means that I'm not part of it. In other words, when the census comes out, I won't list myself as having a life partner or being in a domestic partnership. If you're lucky enough to find someone that you can spend the rest of your life with, more power to you. I'm lucky if I can find someone that I can tolerate for more than six contiguous minutes.
Anyway, back to my original point. I'm not really exactly sure what my point is, but I'll keep writing and eventually, hopefully, one will surface.
As far as this whole posting negative things about the movie or the homosexual population at large, again, why do you care? What's it got to do with you? If a new flavor of Pepsi came out and you didn't like it, would you bitch to all your friends and people that you don't even know and create posts on public message boards that avocado flavored Pepsi is horrible? Probably not. By the way, don't try to sling that whole biblical thing on me about homosexuality being an abomination to God and all that shit. For every one thing that you find in the bible that you believe to be true, I can show you ten that you'll have to admit is folklore.
I've said this before and I'll say it again; if you'd have told me 10 years ago that in 2005 that one of my best friends would be a gay man that lives with another gay man, I'd have told you that you're insane. Where I'm originally from, if you're not driving a pick up with a gun rack, wearing a flannel shirt, a John Deere hat, and carrying around a half-empty Budweiser tall boy, you might as well be carrying a purse. That's one of the reasons that I thank God every day that I moved out of that town. Besides, do you know how hard it is to find a bra in my size? Kidding, by the way.
OK, here's my point; (I knew if I wrote long enough I'd find one) if you don't want to be around someone or something for whatever reason (it doesn't matter what... remember, we're all different) then, simply, don't. If you think someone's an asshole, fine. If you hate the way someone's hair smells, great. If you can't tolerate someone that steals quarters, terrific. Simply get away from it. Period. There's no reason to lash out and say that whatever that person has that you dislike is wrong... it's just not right for you. Plain & simple, simple & plain. Live and let live. Go listen to John Lennon, Woody Guthrie, James Taylor or the like... there's some good stuff in there.
Well, friends and neighbors, I think I'm done with that rant. However, it just wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't put a little something in here for everyone to get into the holiday spirit, so here you go. Click here and enjoy. It's one of my favorite Christmas thingys, and if you haven't seen it, prepare to laugh your ass off.
It's time... off to my nap. I've earned it. I'm off to my big ass couch right after I head downstairs and retrieve my wet laundry... think I'll bring a flashlight. You never know what you might find.
Until next time...
R
Wow, here we are... the very first post from the new corner apartment. Strap in. Here we go.
On that note, I have to thank my multitude of readers that have emailed me about the move... recommending moving companies, offering to help move my big f'ing TV & leather sectional couch, letting me know who to call about whatever. To you I must give a vote of thanks. I didn't actually utilize any of your advice; I have a couple of really great friends that helped me move all my shit, but regardless, your assistance is greatly appreciated.
You know, I figured that when I moved, everything would be just peaches & cream. Let me ask you; when was the last time that happened with regard to absolutely anything? I get all my shit in, and I'm all excited about the free laundry in the basement, and the gas for the dryer isn't turned on. I now have fourteen pounds of cold, wet clothes sitting in my laundry basket. I run home from working for 5 minutes, and park in the driveway in front of the house because I know I'm going to run right back out, and the guy from downstairs pulls in exactly at that minute and starts honking his horn. So now I have to run back downstairs and move my minivan to the back of the house for the 5 f'ing minutes that I'm actually going to be in the f'ing place. Timing is everything. But I digress. The landlord said that he'd have the dryer fixed by next week, and I learned to actually park if I have to come home for anything during the day. So far, it hasn't been a horrible process, but a couple hiccups have made it less than perfect. No, by the way, I don't bitch about everything.
All in all, it's been a good experience... so far. I guess time will tell if the juice was worth the squeeze. It's nice being in such a quiet place. I don't have the knuckleheads pounding on each other's walls when something is too loud like I did in the former corner apartment. I don't have a little weirdo potter banging on the door every 5 minutes, and there's no fat chick to steal my quarters from the dryer when I go out to smoke a cigarette... at least not that I know of; I guess it's possible that she's hiding in one of the nooks or crannies in the basement eating a bowl of Crisco just waiting to see me awkwardly meander through the intricacies of the cluttered laundry room, leave my laundry, and then spring into action like a ninja in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Much to her cholesterol-fueled quarter seeking rampage dismay, there will, in fact, be no quarters for her taking. I'd love to see the look on her bacon grease smeared face when she discovers that little nugget of information. "Ah ha!," I would bellow from the higher ground position like Obi Wan Kenobi after defeating Darth Vader/Anakin in Star Wars Episode III, "my quarters will no longer be victim to your thievery! Go get your own, you quarter stealing land monster quarter stealer!" Or something like that. By the way, if you haven't seen Episode III and I just ruined the ending for you... sorry. Get out of the house more and I won't have to do that again. I hope you've learned your lesson. Now, to continue.
Unfortunately, although I know I promised that I'd have pictures of the new apartment, sadly I do not. Yes, I could get off my lazy ass and snap a few with my digital camera, but quite frankly, I just don't have the energy. This week of work has been absolute hell, and I'm going to type this and take a nap. Maybe another time when I'm not working 15 hour days. Get over it, people.
There is one thing that I have to address. Well, I guess I don't really have to; as I've said many a time... this is my blog and I'll do whatever the hell I want. More accurately, I'll say that I want to... just because it's kind of bothering me and it's somewhat controversial. Having said that, read on at your own risk. I don't think anyone will outright be offended by whatever it is that I'm going to write. As a matter of fact, I'm not really sure what I'm going to write here... I never really do. I just sit down and start typing, and by some stroke of God's hand, people find their way here and start reading.
Regardless, here's what I'm going to write about. After reading this paragraph, you're on your own. I assume no risk of offending anyone... the oness is squarely on you.
There's a new film coming out this month called "Brokeback Mountain." If you're not familiar with the storyline, here it is; two cowboys start working together and subsequently fall in love. Yes, I said it and you read it correctly. It's a love story about two gay men. Just a quick sidebar here; ever see the South Park episode where an indie film festival comes to South Park and Cartman refuses to go because he says that all indie films are just about gay cowboys eating pudding? Kind of funny, although I don't know if there is any pudding eating or pudding eating references in the film. Insert gratuitous gay joke here. Done? Good. Let's move on.
Apparently, there has been some controversy about the film... you know, the whole gay thing is bad and wrong and gross and all that bullshit. The reason I know about this is because one of my best friends is gay, and happened to write about it in his blog. He got on a local message board about the movie, and people right here in Rochester were expressing opinions about it. I took the liberty of also logging on and reading some of the comments, and I have to say just one thing to those who oppose the film and have some unsubstantiated hatred of gay people; what's the big f'ing deal? If you oppose the film, don't pay your hard earned money to go see it. Don't freaking sit outside the theatre with your little picket signs and protest, don't post stuff on a message board saying that homosexuality is wrong and that all fags are going to hell, and lastly, don't waste your time. Seriously, now, aren't there more productive things that you could be doing with your life than degrading and annoying people who get enough shit from the general populous already? Jesus, I know I do. If there was a movie that came out about two diabetics that fell in love, would you bash them? Of course you wouldn't. Diabetes isn't a choice, and neither is being gay. Ask any gay person you know. If you say you don't know any, you're probably fooling yourself.
Now, before I go any further with this, let me say something and get it out of the way. I am not gay. I'm about as straight as they come. Having said that, it doesn't mean that I must, in fact, disassociate myself from that entire demographic. The only demographic that I willingly and publicly distance myself from is assholes. If you don't want to be around me, listen to me, be my friend, or read this blog just because it doesn't matter to me if someone is gay or straight, then the feeling is more than likely mutual. It simply means that I'm not part of it. In other words, when the census comes out, I won't list myself as having a life partner or being in a domestic partnership. If you're lucky enough to find someone that you can spend the rest of your life with, more power to you. I'm lucky if I can find someone that I can tolerate for more than six contiguous minutes.
Anyway, back to my original point. I'm not really exactly sure what my point is, but I'll keep writing and eventually, hopefully, one will surface.
As far as this whole posting negative things about the movie or the homosexual population at large, again, why do you care? What's it got to do with you? If a new flavor of Pepsi came out and you didn't like it, would you bitch to all your friends and people that you don't even know and create posts on public message boards that avocado flavored Pepsi is horrible? Probably not. By the way, don't try to sling that whole biblical thing on me about homosexuality being an abomination to God and all that shit. For every one thing that you find in the bible that you believe to be true, I can show you ten that you'll have to admit is folklore.
I've said this before and I'll say it again; if you'd have told me 10 years ago that in 2005 that one of my best friends would be a gay man that lives with another gay man, I'd have told you that you're insane. Where I'm originally from, if you're not driving a pick up with a gun rack, wearing a flannel shirt, a John Deere hat, and carrying around a half-empty Budweiser tall boy, you might as well be carrying a purse. That's one of the reasons that I thank God every day that I moved out of that town. Besides, do you know how hard it is to find a bra in my size? Kidding, by the way.
OK, here's my point; (I knew if I wrote long enough I'd find one) if you don't want to be around someone or something for whatever reason (it doesn't matter what... remember, we're all different) then, simply, don't. If you think someone's an asshole, fine. If you hate the way someone's hair smells, great. If you can't tolerate someone that steals quarters, terrific. Simply get away from it. Period. There's no reason to lash out and say that whatever that person has that you dislike is wrong... it's just not right for you. Plain & simple, simple & plain. Live and let live. Go listen to John Lennon, Woody Guthrie, James Taylor or the like... there's some good stuff in there.
Well, friends and neighbors, I think I'm done with that rant. However, it just wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't put a little something in here for everyone to get into the holiday spirit, so here you go. Click here and enjoy. It's one of my favorite Christmas thingys, and if you haven't seen it, prepare to laugh your ass off.
It's time... off to my nap. I've earned it. I'm off to my big ass couch right after I head downstairs and retrieve my wet laundry... think I'll bring a flashlight. You never know what you might find.
Until next time...
R
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
