If you want irreverent and inconsequential, I'm your Hyper-Chicken.
This would be a time-saver.
Ah, poker. It’s one of the few things in life I consistently look forward to (sad as that is to type), though I’m honestly starting to question why. Let’s break this down:
1) I lose more often than I win.
2) When I win, it’s rarely enough to make for all the losses that come before it (resulting in a big time net loss).
3) The more I play, the worse I seem to get (even whilst playing sober, as I have come to do).
I write this, naturally, after an epic amount of lost money. More than I even feel like mentioning, out of sheer embarrassment. Ironically, while I’ll positively agonize, second-guess, research and plan out any purchase I make over $20, I have absolutely no problem in dropping down four times that amount on a single hand of poker, even when I’m chasing and the odds are not in my favor. I blame the chips, really. It’s so hard to disassociate worth and need of currency when it’s in its paper form, particularly when it’s in your wallet (in my case, my money clip; I literally need to pry the bills away from me, no doubt giving the act more of an aura of desperation). Chips are different - they’re loose, they’re stack-able, and you fidget with them as if they were playthings. They were designed for the key purpose of making money seem expendable… and, damn it, it works. [Upon further reflection, the process of exchanging real-world currency into a manufactured currency with more fluidity and less emotional attachment is perhaps a concept I have more experience with than previously suspected].
I generally rationalize gambling losses as a form of entertainment. And it is entertaining; I do love playing poker, even when I lose. It’s exciting, it’s a good venue for shit-talking, and it exercises a portion of my brain I fear has long-since atrophied. But still… while it’s fun to play, it’s never fun after the fact to lose. The more I do lose, the more I come to terms with the fact that this is likely just one more hobby I’m sub-par at. I’m well-aware that I’m pretty bad at video games, and as much as I enjoy writing — whether fiction or nonfiction — I know I’m not exactly an outstanding orator or cunning linguist. Poker is yet another benchmark of my mostly unexceptional skill-set. So why would I consider this “entertainment”, when the past-time is just as likely to make me happy as discontent? Probably for the reason last mentioned: the more I try at it, the more I hope to get better. The better I get, the more sense of accomplishment I feel, etc.
Is that so wrong? I just think it’d be nice to every now and again have a notch in the ol’ W column. Don’t get me wrong; I have a good job with a good company, and a some good friends who keep me sane. Life is comparatively pretty awesome. Even still, things could improve. My social awkwardness (ample reference material) that I thought was normal in middle school, quaint in high school and humorous in college is now just a hindrance. Gaining some sort of ability to hold a conversation with an attractive member of the opposite sex without sounding like a complete jackass would be swell. And not worrying about money every month would naturally be sweet. Which, again, is funny, since I’d probably be much more comfortable financially if I didn’t allocate so much every month toward my poker “entertainment budget”. So I lose money to play poker in the hope that I will someday be better at poker and will thus not lose as much money.
^This^ is Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. I’ve come to the conclusion that my current lifestyle is in complete contrast with this philosophy. The idea (assuming what I remember while half-assing Philosophy is correct) is that humans will seek to fulfill the bottom level of needs before moving on to improving the ones above. I attempt to be trying to start at the point and burrowing my way down.
So, here’s my thought: less poker, more self-improvement. That’ll suck, since I like poker and I’ll miss playing every week. But it probably won’t hurt my wallet, for starters. This also means I’ll need to get my lazy ass to the gym more, which I’ve been successfully avoiding for several months now.
Will this actually happen? Who knows; probably not, based on plenty of historical evidence and extrapolations. But at least I’m posting this will sleep-deprived on Tumblr. So on the off-chance that anyone is actually reading this, I’d like to ask that a) you get a more-fulfilling hobby as well, and b) if you see me neglecting the gym in weeks to come, you’ll be all “what about that dumbass Tumblr you wrote about poker and going to the gym more?” At which point I’ll knowingly groan, regret this post and probably hate you a little bit, but it’ll be for my own good.
Well, not really, but sort of. Enough to know when I’m in a taquería and two guys are laughing about how I don’t have shoes on.
Dude, it’s California. That’s relevant for two reasons: I never wear shoes if I can help it (I wear flip-flops 24/7), and I know at least a remedial level of Spanish, my whiteness notwithstanding.
On the plus side, Pancho Villa Taquería in San Mateo had probably the best burrito I’ve eaten since I was back home in SoCal. Will definitely visit again… and in flip-flops, dammit.
So, it turns out riding a bike IS actually like riding a bike! (in the figurative sense)
I bought a bike today, took it home, and took it for a test ride. Despite some initial awkwardness (my lack of coordination plays in there quite heavily), I managed alright.
However, Google Maps tells me that the voyage was a whopping two miles, and yet, I feel the effects. Not that I was tired, per se, but my thighs have long since forgot the sensation of exercize (didn’t I frequent the gym like two months ago?) Though that may also be because I know nothing of “changing gears” on bikes… but even still.
Until I get a parking pass for my car, I need not worry about the voyage to and from work on my bike. So until I get that pass, I shall ride like the Drew of Old (who was coincidentally not called Drew). It was pretty fun though, and I think once I get the hang of riding again, I can get to and from work sans automobile. Huzzah!
It’s amazing what things come to mind when watching movies drunk. Like Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring. “Nobody tosses a Dwarf’s Salad!”
Football, guys. It’s back. I am the happiest boy in the world right now.
"Tackle is tackle,” Parnell said of which side he prefers as he walked to the shower area after practice on Wednesday afternoon."
In retrospect, George McFly was awfully forgiving to Biff in their adult years.
When Biff tries to cheat George out of an extra wax job, George playfully ribs Biff, and he wistfully harkens back to the days of their youth.
But, let’s touch on that, shall we? In their youth, Biff totally tried to rape Lorraine in the front seat of Calvin “Marty” Klein’s car. Like, totally rape. And that’s the guy he remembers fondly from his youth?
Granted, were it not for that horrible act of sexual violence, George never would have sacked up, stood up to Biff, and won Lorraine’s heart. So maybe George subconsciously forgives Biff, even is grateful to him, for turning the wheels of fate and allowing him to be with the girl of his dreams.
But even still… rape, guys. Straight up rape. I don’t care how good Biff is at automotive aesthetic maintenance; that’s not a guy I want working on my property, or around my family. And why isn’t he in jail, anyhow?
Whatever. I guess that’s the moral behavior you’d expect from a Peeping Tom. What a putz. George McFly sucks.