Am I alone in the fact that I want to merely buy a house so I can go to Home Depot— buy a bunch of shit— and go crazy.
A deck? Hell yes! A new sink? Why not! Inground sprinkler system? Bring it the fuck on! Bay window? I can do that!
Someone needs to keep me away from Bob Vila.
Bases loaded, one out– you’re Jason Varitek. What should you do?
A.) Swing because you’re just that wicked awesome.
B.) Leave the bat on your shoulder– make that fucking pitcher throw strikes!
C.) Ask the umpire if you can have a pass on that at bat.
D.) “Terry, what do you mean by ‘lean into one?’”
The choice is yours…
When I was a very little child, I used to be under the assumption that cars zipping by after 11 PM on my road indicated an imminent and deadly threat to my life via firearms from the moving vehicle.
You know, when I’m out there at 2 AM like now, and see a car flying down my quiet little dead end street, part of me is waiting for “Nigga, I’m gonna bust a cap in yo ass!” That or, “I’m Wayne Brady, bitch!”
You’d think making the Dean’s List at an Ivy League university where tuition alone is $27,000 a year would elicit a little more than a photocopied piece of paper that looks like a perfect attendance award from second grade.
So yeah, on a dry run of cards downtown. No cashes in the last 3 weeks. Came close last night, first one out of the cash thanks in part to some stupid betting by me, and in part thanks to THE BIG MAN 3 outing me.
But we did have one memorable moment.
Joe deals, Jesse is small blind, Jim is big blind. Pete is first to act he calls, I’m second to act, I look down– QJ– eh– I call. Riley is right behind me, he moves all in for like 4x the blind. Sal is next, he looks at his cards for a really long time, and mucks them. Now to Joe on the button. He squeezes his hand for a second and calls the all-in. Alright, so now I’m pretty sure there is no way my QJ is looking enticing. Jesse folds, but then JIM moves all in for another thousand or so chips on top of Riley’s all in. So Pete goes “What the fuck!” and mucks his cards. Now I’m mildly intrigued– I’m shortstacked at this point– and if I somehow hit, I’m getting like 5-1 on my money. The odds of me being THAT big of a dog are not likely (and I would have made the move if I had something like 7-6). But in the assumption that I’m likely sharing cards and dominated, I also fold. Joe calls Jim’s all in after some deliberation, mainly because he was pot committed. So 7 handed, we have 2 all in’s (for all intents and purposes, 3– since Joe had no stack to speak of), and 3 guys who considered calling and folded. Alright, turn ‘em boys.
Riley shows AA.
Jim shows KK.
Joe goes “FUCKING WHORE!” and shows 99.
Let the record show that:
Colin folded QJ.
Pete folded 10-10.
Sal folded 8-8.
So yes, FIVE pocket pairs in a seven handed game.
Oh it gets better.
The flop comes K-10-9.
FUCK! I would have flopped the nut straight with QJ! My worst hand would now be the nuts! But look, both Joe and Jim hit sets and are now dominating the AA.
What a flop! Lets see what the turn has to offer…
ACE OF DIAMONDS!
Shit! Riley is back in the lead after hitting one of two outs that could save his hand! Two cards in the whole deck and he hits one on the next card. My folded straight just got even BIGGER turning into Broadway. I’d still be ahead, but there are now 3 pairs in the hand, and ALL three have sets!
River time.
And wouldn’t you know it, Joe is dealing and disgustedly throws down the final card– NINE!
Joe wins the fucking hand with QUAD nines against a set of aces and a set of kings. And if me and Pete were in the hand, it would be Broadway and a set of 10’s.
By far the best hand I’ve ever seen. By best I mean most ridiculous.
So doing some off-the-cuff math– If the odds of hitting a set utilizing the whole board (IF you have a pocket pair) are 1:6, then the odds of two of them hitting sets are 1:36. BUT Joe had QUADS. The odds of that ALONE is about 1:50. So now the odds of that happening are 1:1800. That’s with the three sets of hole cards alone! Let’s include the fact that Pete hit a set and I flopped the nut straight with our hole cards. Now our odds are up to a whopping 1 in 648000! GIVEN this set of circumstances, this type of scenario will only unfold once in 648000 hands of poker. If you played NON-STOP (24 hours a day, 7 days a week) going through 25 hands an hour, this scenario would only occur once every three YEARS. NON-STOP! This ALSO doesn’t include the odds of getting dealt FIVE pocket pairs in a seven handed game. This alone likely pushes the odds of the entire hand unfolding as is at well over one in one billion.
Alright, you people are in charge of stopping me from gambling. Any more. Like seriously.
At one point yesterday I managed to lose like $300 in a span of 3 hours. That’s a salary of— NEGATIVE $100 an hour. Not good. Of course, I did make over $100 of it back playing poker later on, so note to self is don’t play blackjack. Ever. Again.
I should really, and honestly stop. I mean, I’m probably up ever so slightly all summer between sports betting and poker, but it’s not good for my heart, self-esteem, and is an utter waste of time (especially when I’m watching paychecks go down the tube).
Moved into my new apartment– kinda. Very nice. Much nicer than Gun Hill. Mmm air conditioning. And a solid view of Mama T’s, just like I wanted.
…
*Sigh*
Is it sadistic that I actually enjoy being woken up (by a dream, loud noise, a phone call, a pet, etc.) at any hour of the night, because I can roll over, see my clock and say “Ah, four more hours of sleep left”?
It just seems those nights have more “happiness” than the “sleep all night, next thing you know you’re alarm clock is buzzing you at an all-to-early hour.”
I know it’s not healthy, just a random musing.
Yeah– this weekend was pretty suhweet. ‘Nuff said… ;)
So I watched the Brazil-France game today. I’ll admit, it was mildly intriguing– especially since I got to watch Brazil lose (I hate the Goliaths). And I admit, there were some tense, and very exciting moments that nearly came to be. With that aside, I list off the view from the sofa.
I can’t tell you how many times I saw a card come out for some seemingly asinine reason. I know, I know– blah blah, you don’t understand, you’ve never played soccer at the speed they’re playing, etc. all. No, you’re right. But I also can tell a dive when I see a dive. And some of the cards that game out for said dives, is just ridiculous. Fresh in my mind– Ronaldo is cutting through three French defenders in something like the 87th minute or so. He sees the pathway he that was once open to the right side of the box is closing. So what does he do? Pretty much falls on the ball. That’s it. Roll around on the ground for a sec for good measure– WHAM! Yellow card and a free kick baby! Woohoo! That’s the way to play! It’s not just that play either– two guys are going for the ball, and fall over each other? *Tweet* Yellow card. I saw another play where two players are running for the ball, and one just runs so fast he loses his balance. Watch the replay– no contact AT ALL. *Twwwwweeeet* He was pushed! Card!
This goes hand in hand somewhat with my ridiculous soccer injuries standpoint. How many times have you seen a soccer player trip over someone, and roll around on the ground like they managed to tear their MCL, ACL, and PCL simultaneously. But wait, five minutes later, that’s them screaming down the sidelines, with not a limp in sight? Color me befuddled. If I had to put the number of “real” injuries of players that were helped/carted (on a flatboard!) off the field, it’d have to be like 1 in 6. I mean, yes, fine, soccer fans acknowledge that theatrics are a very important part of the game. Hell, diving has it’s own page on Wikipedia. But c’mon guys, for the sanity of guys like me– give it a rest. Everytime you slip and fall, your leg is not going to fall off– if the refs stopped handing out so many cards, maybe we wouldn’t have this issue.
Another thing that is somewhat bothersome is the fact that soccer is the only sport that I can think of in which– you don’t know when it’s going to end. In baseball you get 9 innings, in basketball, football, and hockey, you have running clocks that account for absolute time. In soccer, the clock is continuously running, and ends when this notion of (unknown) stoppage time is over. Why not just have an official timekeeper stop the clock when needed, rather than have the referees tabulate it and then just mysteriously add it on at the end of the game? This tempers the excitement, and doesn’t allow for last-second drama. “Brazil still needs to score, they are resetting—- oh wait, it doesn’t matter! The whistle has blown, the game is over!” Wouldn’t it be more exciting if it was, “Brazil still needs to score, there are ten seconds left! They reset, here they push! Nine… eight… Ronaldo crosses in front of the goalllll… four… three…”?
I could also gripe about the low scoring nature of soccer, but that is everyone’s gripe, so I’ll leave it be. One negative aspect is the idea of penalty kicks. So– you fight for over 100 minutes to a 0-0 tie in the quarterfinals of the World Cup (single elimination no less), and the final score comes down to a guessing game as to which way the goalie should break before a player kicks a ball?
I’m not demeaning soccer players, or calling it a pussy sport. It’s just– Soccer fans, at least those that I talk to have a tendency to be overly defensive of their sport, and overly putdownish of other sports. I mean, I love bowling, but man if I had a dime for everyone who told me bowling was a fat man, beer drinker’s sport, I’d have a million dollars. And while I wholeheartedly agree that bowling is far from the most athletic activity known to man, I also understand that it takes far more precision, thinking, accuracy, and foresight than anyone is willing to give it credit for. (As evidenced by the fact that professionals AVERAGE 220– not that their lifetime high game is 204). I’m not saying soccer is a flawed sport just as much as I’m not saying it’s perfect. I’m just saying there seem to be some obvious reasons as to why the sport isn’t overly popular in America.
… and of course, what would a blog post like this be without a ridiculous conversation that instigated it.
Me: yeah, that yellow when ronaldo fell was total bull
Censored: so fucking what.
Me: haha, i’m just saying
Censored: hey, it’s part of the game.
Me: so they tell me…
Censored: look if you don’t like it, go back to watching your boring ass baseball.
Me: haha, chill out
Me: all i was saying was that the call was bullshit
Me: im not taking your or your sport down– lol
Censored: at least we don’t play sports with our fucking hands like mindless oafs
(EDITORS NOTE: ^^ the most random line EVER!)
Censored: there’s a reason why everyone in the world loves it.
Me: yes
Me: it can be very exciting
Me: and im sure fun to play
Me: haha, all im saying is that sometimes it’s less power-filled excitement than other things im used to
Me: i mean i appreciate the skill and i know i could never play it
Me: but
Me: eh
Me: i guess that’s why america doesn’t embrace it
Censored: no, americans don’t like it because they’re fucking retards.
Censored: george w. bush.
Censored: i rest my case.
Me: haha plan on secedeing?
Censored: colin, people like you fucking piss me the fuck off.
Censored: watch your crappy ass sport, and stop bitching about mine
Me: im not bitching
Me: you asked if i like the game!
Me: and when i said kinda you asked why!
Me: (and speaking of bitching, wasn’t it you that threw a hissy fit when we were watching baseball before?)
Censored: goooooooooodbye.
Censored: fuck off.
Talk about righteous. No, people like YOU make me sick. I said nothing demeaning, nothing deragatory, but for some reason you feel the need to pretend and make like I boxed you into a corner and heaven forbid I ever have a two-way with anyone that doesn’t devolve into someone throwing punches at me. This is why I despise far left-wing and far right-wing voters. Right here. I’m right, you’re wrong. You don’t know how it is. Stop trying to make points on anything you have no business making points on. No. I just know I’m right. Everyone else who doesn’t believe so is a moron. Simple as that.
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