Subconscious: Your Contract is Under Review

-To: My Subconscious
-Re: Last Night's Dream

Dear My Subconscious:

You are going too far.

Your latest dream made me very uncomfortable.

I understand that when I am asleep you have a specific purpose in mind when you impose a dream upon me. I understand that this is your own special way of sorting things out and that’s cool, but I really don’t see what you were getting at with your latest contribution.

Why the fuck did you have me spend my entire eight hours of sleep competing against The Cookie Monster for the affection of Mary-Kate Olsen?

I mean, what?

I… I honestly don’t know where to begin to address this.

I don’t care one iota about Mary-Kate Olsen, do I?

If I do, why is The Cookie Monster my main competition?

I’m not getting your hint, Subconscious, please clarify.

In the future, unless your directive is crystal clear, I would appreciate not dreaming about Mary-Kate Olsen or The Cookie Monster, or competing against one for the other.

Thanks in advance,

Your Conscious Counterpart

Girlfriend: Your Contract is Under Review

-To: My Girlfriend
-Re: Your repeated attempts to cuddle while watching Ultimate Fighting Championship

Dear Girlfriend:

Have you ever been to a movie theatre to watch a movie that you were totally excited about, and then the big moment of the movie came and it really hit home with you and you started to cry? Then some jerk two rows back started laughing because he thought that that part of the movie was particularly ridiculous and deserving of his dismissive laughter? Did you feel like he just spat on what was supposed to be a great experience in your life?

Think about that, please.

This letter is intended to serve as a formal notice that it is absolutely not acceptable for you to attempt any sort of cuddling while I am watching Ultimate Fighting Championship. It is expected that from the date of this notice that you will adjust your actions accordingly and that there will be no further incidents.

Thanks in advance, and I look forward to improving our working relationship.

Best regards,

Your Boyfriend

You Just Never Know

After the badass medieval festival at Fort Tryon last weekend, my roommate brought one of his friends over to hang out at the apartment.

My roommate is awesome, so I look forward to any of his company.

I am told that the friend is a doctor, an M.D. More specifically, he is a practicing substance abuse therapist and pain management expert.

Huh, okay.

Anyone who knows me knows that having an addiction specialist tooling around my apartment could quite possibly put a little cramp in my lifestyle.

I guess I won’t be sitting in the living room drinking beer and smoking bowls tonight.

Wrong.

Out of the blue, my roommate’s doctor friend whipped out a doctor's bag full of various substances.

Huh, okay.

Long story short:

Wait, hold on. Before I tell you this, I think I should preface by saying that I very rarely do drugs. Well, since high school anyways. But, man. This guy had some serious holdings. I'm not going to go into specifics, but this situation warranted an exception to anyone's convictions.

The good doctor, the roommate and I spent the whole night partying hard out of the doctor's magic bag, drinking, and…

…wait for it…

…watching several back-to-back episodes of “Intervention” while The Good Doctor, high as a fucking kite, diagnosed and treated all the patients from my living room couch.

Fucking priceless.

The Endeavor

(This is my first attempt at a "live blog".)

It appears that online poker will soon be shut down in the good old free U.S. of A.

I logged into my online poker account today and surprisingly found $6 sitting there.

I now have a fucking mission.




The mission:

Turn $6 into $600 in 24 hours, playing poker... online.

This is going to be grueling and will most likely end in dissapointment. For you and me both, loyal reader.

Let's get started.

__

Account balance: $6.00


4:00pm: I sit down at a $6 single table tournament. I win. Hell yeah.

5:30pm-7:00pm: I played two more $6 single table tournaments and finished 2nd in both. Hell yeahs.


Account balance: $38.00


7:00pm: I run to get beer and cigarettes.

I decide that my best chance of achieving my goal lies in the strategy of playing and winning as many small($5/$10) tournaments as it takes to be able to enter a $100 tournament and still have a couple small buy-ins left. If I pad my stack correctly and win the $100 tournament, if I ever get there, I will reach my goal. I want to have a couple small buy-ins remaining so that if I lose the big tournament I can just start all over again. We'll see.

7:15pm: I enter a $10 single table tournament.

8:15pm: I finish in 2nd place.


Account balance: $54.00

This is going well. So far.

8:30pm: I take the time to write this blog.

9:45pm: I enter another $10 tournament.

10:30pm: I just went out on the bubble, 4th place. Lost money.

Account balance: $43.00

10:40pm: Entering another $10 tournament.

11:20pm: I just lost this tournament on the bubble, again. I took two horrendous beats in a row. I hate this game.

Account balance: $33.00

11:25pm: I am seriously pissed off. I am entering another $10 tournament now.

1:25am: I finished the tournament in 2nd place after the funnest and longest heads-up battle I've ever played. Great tournament. I don't even care that I didn't win because my oppenent was awesome. We showed each other several bluffs, nuts, folds, everything. This tournament exeplified what poker should be.

Account Balance: $41.00

1:30am: Okay, it's obvious. I'm going to have to seriously step up my game if I'm going to reach the $600 mark by tomorrow afternoon, and I am getting tired.

I've been playing for almost eight hours now.

And I am very drunk.

Of course.

2:00am: I'm going to play a $20 tournament at the risk of destroying my bankroll. Starting now.

2:50am: I busted out AGAIN. I seriously fucking hate this game.

Account balance: $19.00

I still have enough for a $10 and a $5 tournament.

I am not fucking giving up on my goal.

3:00am: I am starting another $1o tournament...

3:36am: Fucking lost again.

3:40am: Buying into my final tournament. Right back where I started. Six goddamn dollars.

3:53am: I hit four of a kind and played them hard to the river. I have a lot of chips.

4:49am: I WON!

Account balance: $25.00

5:00am: Entering a $10 tournament. Growing... weary.

Still have... lots of Red Stripe to drink.

5:10am: I just hit a huge hand and I am the clear chip leader.

5:46am: I just lost to a two-outer. I want to kill someone.

Account Balance: $14.00

5:51 am: $5 tournament, here we go. What choice do I have?

6:30am: I finished in 2nd place.

Account balance: $22.00

I am piss drunk and am going to pass out now. I failed.

I will try again in a couple days and will have the sense not to live blog when everyone in their right mind is dead asleep.

Till then...

No, I Am Not Dead

Sorry for slacking lately, everyone.

I haven't felt like writing lately.

No reason really, just haven't felt like it.

I'll be back soon.

You can read the other blogs listed in my sidebar in the meantime.