I'm playing poker in the front room last night and my Daughter is watching TV. She's flicking through the channels and the Simpsons is about to start. Clicking on the info button a message comes up with a description of the episode which was something like this:
Bart gets sentanced to three months juvenile detention where he befriends a girl called Ruby voiced by Buffy star Sarah Michelle Gellar.
My Daughter bursts out laughing and says to me;
"Look at that Dad, what a stupid name".
I look and say
"What, Sarah Michelle Gellar"?
"No", says my Daughter, "Buffy star Sarah Michelle Gellar".
After looking at her in bewilderment for a few seconds and realising she wasn't joking I pointed out to her that Sarah Michelle Gellar was the star of a TV programme called Buffy.
"But that's not what that says Dad, there's no punctuation between star and Sarah".
So I looked again and she was right.
"You should write to Virgin and complain" I told her and carried on with the poker whilst watching the Simpsons.
Get home from work tonight and first thing my Daughter says is;
"Well I wrote to them Dad".
"Wrote to whom" says I, confused?
"Virgin. Told them they should employ someone with a grasp of decent grammar".
I looked at my Missus who nodded in the affirmative.
"Yeah she has. She sent them an e-mail today".
Probably get an e-mail back from Richard Branson offering my Daughter a job as his PA now.
I've been playing poker on Ladbrokes this last week or so and the standard is dire. So next month I've decided to try to get to Gold status on there starting with £50. I managed to get 600 points this month and only played 1 table for about 10 hours in total. I need 3,000 points for Gold and 10,000 for VIP. The VIP scheme looks good, check out Soaps blog for the racing trip he went on courtesy of it. Would also like to run that £50 up to something decent before Xmas.
Off to Nottingham on Friday for a RTR meet up. Looking forward to it even though I'm still unsure as to where we are all sleeping. Entire wars have been planned quicker than this fucking trip. Personally, I blame super fish, Amatay. Feel sorry for Cogs who will probably end up sharing a bed with him.
Later.
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
Friday, 24 July 2009
A few questions
This one's for Animal if he drops by or anyone else who plays online poker.
5c/10c, I'm dealt As Kc Jc 9c which is a very good starting hand. 1 caller, MP raises to 50c, I'm mp+1 and call everyone else folds. $1.25 in the pot and flop comes 8c 10c Qh giving me nut straight with numerous draws, nut second flush draw and straight flush draw. MP bets 30c which is weak in my opinion but don't want to scare him off so call. Turn 4c giving me second flush and still straight flush draw. He again bets 30c, I call, River is blank and he bets pot. I'm thinking he's trying to buy pot after two weak continuation bets so raise him all in. He calls and turns over Ac 5c and two rags.
Did I play this really badly or did he play it really well? Did he play it really badly and did I play it really well and was just unlucky? Can you get away from this after calling pre flop or should I have gone straight over the top of him? Am I realy Rubbish@poker? This hand has been bugging me all day.
Next one for everyone reading this nonsense, do you all think I'm only good for two and a half minutes in the sack? Come on people, it was a throw away line for comedic effect. I've even noticed people are now posting on other blogs feeling sorry for my Missus. Jeez, I can last at least four maybe even five if there's footie on the TV.
Would you spend it or hand it in?
Is this decent for online betting? Tiger to win US PGA 5/2, Roddick US Open 8/1? I've got £50 on it.
Is the only programme worth watching on TV; Two and a half men? Without Shameless, 24, Sopranos and the Wire, Television is absolutely shite. Is there something I'm missing? What do you all watch?
Am I a blog whore for putting up links to Amatays blog advertising enterprises? Will I rot in hell for aiding him in his quest for poker blog domination? How much does he actually get paid for all these Ads?
Finally, I'm halfway through writing a masterpiece about all the bloggers I read. Anyone want to read it?
Later.
Edit - big thanks to Rob "Animal" Price for his advice, took down a 197 runner, $10 rebuy. pot limit tourney on FT last night for $1485. Rubbish@poker my arse.
5c/10c, I'm dealt As Kc Jc 9c which is a very good starting hand. 1 caller, MP raises to 50c, I'm mp+1 and call everyone else folds. $1.25 in the pot and flop comes 8c 10c Qh giving me nut straight with numerous draws, nut second flush draw and straight flush draw. MP bets 30c which is weak in my opinion but don't want to scare him off so call. Turn 4c giving me second flush and still straight flush draw. He again bets 30c, I call, River is blank and he bets pot. I'm thinking he's trying to buy pot after two weak continuation bets so raise him all in. He calls and turns over Ac 5c and two rags.
Did I play this really badly or did he play it really well? Did he play it really badly and did I play it really well and was just unlucky? Can you get away from this after calling pre flop or should I have gone straight over the top of him? Am I realy Rubbish@poker? This hand has been bugging me all day.
Next one for everyone reading this nonsense, do you all think I'm only good for two and a half minutes in the sack? Come on people, it was a throw away line for comedic effect. I've even noticed people are now posting on other blogs feeling sorry for my Missus. Jeez, I can last at least four maybe even five if there's footie on the TV.
Would you spend it or hand it in?
Is this decent for online betting? Tiger to win US PGA 5/2, Roddick US Open 8/1? I've got £50 on it.
Is the only programme worth watching on TV; Two and a half men? Without Shameless, 24, Sopranos and the Wire, Television is absolutely shite. Is there something I'm missing? What do you all watch?
Am I a blog whore for putting up links to Amatays blog advertising enterprises? Will I rot in hell for aiding him in his quest for poker blog domination? How much does he actually get paid for all these Ads?
Finally, I'm halfway through writing a masterpiece about all the bloggers I read. Anyone want to read it?
Later.
Edit - big thanks to Rob "Animal" Price for his advice, took down a 197 runner, $10 rebuy. pot limit tourney on FT last night for $1485. Rubbish@poker my arse.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
The perfect weekend
The perfect weekend kicked off early with my Wife’s Birthday on Thursday. As is the norm in our house, I’ve been finding post it notes all round the house with messages of what she wanted present wise. I even woke up on Wednesday morning with one stuck on my forehead! So, Wednesday afternoon, I traipsed into Cardiff and bought her numerous DVD’s, perfume, a £35 fucking vase from Next, Nintendo DS games for her and my Daughter, flowers and a box of after eight mints.
By the time I got home on Thursday after work the mints were gone. Fucking witches.
Out on Thursday night for a curry and a couple of drinks and then back home for the best two and a half minutes she’s likely to have this year.
Day off Friday so popped up to see my Mum, Daughter in tow. I’ve been mates with the same gang of boys since we were in primary school together and one of them, Dave, has just become a proud Father of a little boy called Charlie. Went to see him for an hour and shot the breeze about the good old days.
Dave is one of life’s jammy bastards. Left school with no qualifications and now has the best job of the lot of us. Great singing voice. Good looking. He’s a right twat.
I grew up in a little village where there was one pub, one phone box, one post box, one bus stop and one corner shop. The corner shop was run by Mr Singh and his family. Every day, we would all pop in there, usually at different times, and greet Mr Singh with the same song. “Mr Singh, sing a song, make it simple to last the whole day long”. I’m sure you know the tune and will be singing it to yourself all day.
Mr Singh always smiled but was probably thinking what a bunch of pricks we were, especially after hearing it for the tenth time that day.
Mr Singh also had a stunning Daughter who was seventeen; we were all in our mid to late twenties at the time. One night Dave is walking home and Mr Singh’s Daughter and her mate are walking home at the same time. Dave starts chatting away and when he gets to his house invites her in for a cuppa. Five minutes later, Mr Singh’s Daughters mate walks past the corner shop where Mr Singh is waiting on the doorstep for them.
“Where’s my Daughter?” Mr Singh asks.
“In Dave’s house”, Daughter’s mate replies.
Now Dave’s parents were quite liberal and didn’t mind him bringing female company home as long as they didn’t scream the house down. When you walked in through Dave’s front door there was a living room to the left and Dining room to the right and straight in front of the door was the staircase. The doorbell rings and Dave’s Mother, who was watching TV, opens the door to be confronted by Mr Singh and his whole family. By whole family I mean, Wife, Son, two other Daughters, Two Brothers and wives, Parents and a few hangers on. The conversation goes like this:
DM (Dave’s Mum), “Hello Mr Singh, how can I help you?”
MS (Mr Singh), “I’ve come for my Daughter”.
DM “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?”
MS “My Daughter, she’s here with Dave”.
DM “Which one, your eldest?”
MS “Yes”.
DM “I don’t think she’s here Mr Singh, she’s only seventeen and Dave’s twenty eight”.
MS “Her friend just told me that she came home with Dave”.
DM “I think her friend must be mistaken, I don’t think Dave’s even home yet”.
MS “No, she’s here”.
DM, Turning round and calling up the stairs, “Dave, are you up there?”
Dave, walking to the top of the stairs, stark naked with a semi on, in full view of Mr Singh and entourage, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaat, Oops”, before quickly disappearing only for Mr Singh’s Daughter to appear twenty seconds later, clothes in disarray, readying herself for the biggest bollocking of her life.
MS “Dave’s Mum, you and your family are banned from the shop for life”.
Oh, the good old days.
Woke up Saturday with another post it note on my forehead as it was our wedding anniversary on Sunday. Played Golf, pottered around the house then went for a meal with my Wife, Daughter and my Wife’s friends and kids. We went to a new Tapas restaurant and had a really good time. I picked up the drinks bill which came to £120 because that’s the type of guy I am. Got home about ten and Mrs Rubbish intimated that she fancied round two. I must admit so did I so after hearing the bedroom door close I was straight out of the front door and down the pub to watch the Amir Khan fight. Unfortunately he didn’t win in round two but it was a good tear up and he was a deserved winner.
My Daughter has been learning Spanish in school and her teacher must come from Barcelona because most of the lessons seem to involve stories about the City. My Daughter asked if we could go there one day and my Missus also fancies it. I’ve been there three times on lad’s weekends and have never seen more than the inside of five bars, one nightclub, the Nou Camp and a brothel. So, for our anniversary, I bought my Wife and Daughter a five day break there. It also includes a couple of trips to Tarragona which is a cracking place to go drinking and somewhere else that I can’t be bothered to look up. I’ve now accumulated more brownie points than I can shake a shitty stick at.
Sunday afternoon was another mates, Sons, Christening. We pitched up at the Church at one and it was like stepping back in time. All the boys I used to play Rugby with and get pissed out of my tiny brain with were there. The Vicar, sensing the Christening had now become a peripheral event, sped through the service and we were in the pub by one thirty.
Years ago, when we were all playing Rugby and in our prime, Sunday’s were the biggest day. We used to have a Super Sunday Cider Session in our local which always became a messy event. There used to be a happy hour there until two O’clock and at five to two the bar was heaving with everyone trying to get a last cheap pint. Many a time I’d be sitting down at five past two drinking cider out of a vase or a jam jar. It was a classy pub. Anyhow, before anyone could say “I’ve got work in the morning”, we were all on cider. My Wife and Daughter disappeared about fiveish, as did most of the Wives and children and I staggered home about nine in the evening, totally wrecked.
A fitting end to the perfect weekend.
By the time I got home on Thursday after work the mints were gone. Fucking witches.
Out on Thursday night for a curry and a couple of drinks and then back home for the best two and a half minutes she’s likely to have this year.
Day off Friday so popped up to see my Mum, Daughter in tow. I’ve been mates with the same gang of boys since we were in primary school together and one of them, Dave, has just become a proud Father of a little boy called Charlie. Went to see him for an hour and shot the breeze about the good old days.
Dave is one of life’s jammy bastards. Left school with no qualifications and now has the best job of the lot of us. Great singing voice. Good looking. He’s a right twat.
I grew up in a little village where there was one pub, one phone box, one post box, one bus stop and one corner shop. The corner shop was run by Mr Singh and his family. Every day, we would all pop in there, usually at different times, and greet Mr Singh with the same song. “Mr Singh, sing a song, make it simple to last the whole day long”. I’m sure you know the tune and will be singing it to yourself all day.
Mr Singh always smiled but was probably thinking what a bunch of pricks we were, especially after hearing it for the tenth time that day.
Mr Singh also had a stunning Daughter who was seventeen; we were all in our mid to late twenties at the time. One night Dave is walking home and Mr Singh’s Daughter and her mate are walking home at the same time. Dave starts chatting away and when he gets to his house invites her in for a cuppa. Five minutes later, Mr Singh’s Daughters mate walks past the corner shop where Mr Singh is waiting on the doorstep for them.
“Where’s my Daughter?” Mr Singh asks.
“In Dave’s house”, Daughter’s mate replies.
Now Dave’s parents were quite liberal and didn’t mind him bringing female company home as long as they didn’t scream the house down. When you walked in through Dave’s front door there was a living room to the left and Dining room to the right and straight in front of the door was the staircase. The doorbell rings and Dave’s Mother, who was watching TV, opens the door to be confronted by Mr Singh and his whole family. By whole family I mean, Wife, Son, two other Daughters, Two Brothers and wives, Parents and a few hangers on. The conversation goes like this:
DM (Dave’s Mum), “Hello Mr Singh, how can I help you?”
MS (Mr Singh), “I’ve come for my Daughter”.
DM “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?”
MS “My Daughter, she’s here with Dave”.
DM “Which one, your eldest?”
MS “Yes”.
DM “I don’t think she’s here Mr Singh, she’s only seventeen and Dave’s twenty eight”.
MS “Her friend just told me that she came home with Dave”.
DM “I think her friend must be mistaken, I don’t think Dave’s even home yet”.
MS “No, she’s here”.
DM, Turning round and calling up the stairs, “Dave, are you up there?”
Dave, walking to the top of the stairs, stark naked with a semi on, in full view of Mr Singh and entourage, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaat, Oops”, before quickly disappearing only for Mr Singh’s Daughter to appear twenty seconds later, clothes in disarray, readying herself for the biggest bollocking of her life.
MS “Dave’s Mum, you and your family are banned from the shop for life”.
Oh, the good old days.
Woke up Saturday with another post it note on my forehead as it was our wedding anniversary on Sunday. Played Golf, pottered around the house then went for a meal with my Wife, Daughter and my Wife’s friends and kids. We went to a new Tapas restaurant and had a really good time. I picked up the drinks bill which came to £120 because that’s the type of guy I am. Got home about ten and Mrs Rubbish intimated that she fancied round two. I must admit so did I so after hearing the bedroom door close I was straight out of the front door and down the pub to watch the Amir Khan fight. Unfortunately he didn’t win in round two but it was a good tear up and he was a deserved winner.
My Daughter has been learning Spanish in school and her teacher must come from Barcelona because most of the lessons seem to involve stories about the City. My Daughter asked if we could go there one day and my Missus also fancies it. I’ve been there three times on lad’s weekends and have never seen more than the inside of five bars, one nightclub, the Nou Camp and a brothel. So, for our anniversary, I bought my Wife and Daughter a five day break there. It also includes a couple of trips to Tarragona which is a cracking place to go drinking and somewhere else that I can’t be bothered to look up. I’ve now accumulated more brownie points than I can shake a shitty stick at.
Sunday afternoon was another mates, Sons, Christening. We pitched up at the Church at one and it was like stepping back in time. All the boys I used to play Rugby with and get pissed out of my tiny brain with were there. The Vicar, sensing the Christening had now become a peripheral event, sped through the service and we were in the pub by one thirty.
Years ago, when we were all playing Rugby and in our prime, Sunday’s were the biggest day. We used to have a Super Sunday Cider Session in our local which always became a messy event. There used to be a happy hour there until two O’clock and at five to two the bar was heaving with everyone trying to get a last cheap pint. Many a time I’d be sitting down at five past two drinking cider out of a vase or a jam jar. It was a classy pub. Anyhow, before anyone could say “I’ve got work in the morning”, we were all on cider. My Wife and Daughter disappeared about fiveish, as did most of the Wives and children and I staggered home about nine in the evening, totally wrecked.
A fitting end to the perfect weekend.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
The Evil Antagonists #64
San Diego Moms blog has this challenge.
Make up a silly evil scheme. Even better? Dream up an evil antagonist and write a story about the dreadful thing he plans to do.
Here's mine.
I've never really got on with my next door neighbours. It's nothing to do with the fact that they are a pair of lesbian femnists who hate all men and would brain wash my Wife and Daughter given half a chance. It's more to do with them parking their camper van outside my house and spitting everytime they see me.
One is a freelance computer programmer and the other is a scientist with some Government quango. Quite often they'll turn up in my local pub and sit in the corner, snarling at all the men whilst drinking halves of real ale and smoking roll up cigarettes. Funnily, they'll sit quite contented watching football or rugby on the TV so, just to piss them off, we always flick the channel over to one of the MTV shows with some scantily clad babes gyrating around a blinged up Rapper who is telling us all to "slap our bitches". That's always guaranteed to send them into overdrive, calling us all pigs and how our day would come soon.
Saturday started off normally. I'm making breakfast and my missus is in the garden hanging up the washing. Out marches one of them who starts lecturing my Wife about how her hanging up the washing is empowering all men to do nothing domestically. My wife turned and rolled her eyes at me before nodding in agreement and engaging in conversation with her. Out strolls the other one, giving me a glare, before chatting with my missus. I'm just turning the sausages when this guy I've never seen before comes flying out of their back door and starts screaming.
"Why don't you two just stand there chatting while I make breakfast? That's just fucking typical of you. Let me do everything while you do fuck all".
And with that this guy storms back in their house slamming the back door behind him.
My missus walks in, shellshocked.
"Did you see that"?
"Very weird", I nodded.
All throughout the day we would hear strange ramblings from next door.
"Don't worry, I'll do the fucking hoovering shall I"?
"You two just sit there and I'll fucking mow the lawn".
"Is it too much to ask for a cup of tea you lazy bastards"?
My wife and I sat there in silence listening to the commotion.
"Very fucking weird" I said to the missus.
"Totally agree", replied the wife, "shall I go and talk to them"?
"Up to you, I'm off to the pub".
Next day I'm up early cutting the grass and Mad Mikey from my local walks out into next doors back garden, crying.
"Mikey, what are you doing" I ask?
"What am I doing, everything, that's what I'm doing whilst they sit there doing fuck all. Ungrateful bitches".
I look towards their house and spot the pair of them watching Mikey and I through the kitchen window. I look back at Mikey who now has tears streaming down his face.
"Mikey, jump over here and have a can with me", I offer.
"No time sorry, I have to make breakfast and then make the beds and do the washing because those two lazy twats wont".
And with that he's gone.
I walk back in the house, mouth down by my ankles.
"Did you just see that" I ask the wife?
"Yeah, was that Mad Mike"?
"Yeah".
"What's he doing there"?
"I have no fucking idea".
Yet again we listen to Mikey shouting and screaming all day long. The next day there's another guy in histronics over the slightest thing. And then another. A different guy all week long.
Finally, on Friday, I'm sitting in the front room and decide to fire up the laptop to play a few games of Poker. I've got this Wi Fi connection and I notice as I'm about to load Full Tilt that I've connected on next doors broadband. And then I notice a site open on my google bar so I open it up and it's a porn site. Strange I think, those two next door must be watching this. And it was strange because it was normal porn not lesbian porn which is what I would expect them to watch. Because I've got Vista the film they're watching is streaming slowly and it's only then I notice subliminal messages between frames. On further carefull studying I eventually begin to be able to read all the messages. And then I realised what the two fucking witches were doing. They had only created the first ever PMT simulation program and had copied it over porn films so that any man watching would wake up in the morning, an hysterical wreck, screaming and crying over the slightest thing. They had obviously been testing it all week and I guessed they were going to start downloading it so that every man on the planet who watches porn, which would be every man, would fall under their evil spell. Right, I thought to myself, I need to put a stop to this now. I got up and started to walk to the door when I noticed my Wife standing there.
"Allright love, what you doing with that shovel"?
Make up a silly evil scheme. Even better? Dream up an evil antagonist and write a story about the dreadful thing he plans to do.
Here's mine.
I've never really got on with my next door neighbours. It's nothing to do with the fact that they are a pair of lesbian femnists who hate all men and would brain wash my Wife and Daughter given half a chance. It's more to do with them parking their camper van outside my house and spitting everytime they see me.
One is a freelance computer programmer and the other is a scientist with some Government quango. Quite often they'll turn up in my local pub and sit in the corner, snarling at all the men whilst drinking halves of real ale and smoking roll up cigarettes. Funnily, they'll sit quite contented watching football or rugby on the TV so, just to piss them off, we always flick the channel over to one of the MTV shows with some scantily clad babes gyrating around a blinged up Rapper who is telling us all to "slap our bitches". That's always guaranteed to send them into overdrive, calling us all pigs and how our day would come soon.
Saturday started off normally. I'm making breakfast and my missus is in the garden hanging up the washing. Out marches one of them who starts lecturing my Wife about how her hanging up the washing is empowering all men to do nothing domestically. My wife turned and rolled her eyes at me before nodding in agreement and engaging in conversation with her. Out strolls the other one, giving me a glare, before chatting with my missus. I'm just turning the sausages when this guy I've never seen before comes flying out of their back door and starts screaming.
"Why don't you two just stand there chatting while I make breakfast? That's just fucking typical of you. Let me do everything while you do fuck all".
And with that this guy storms back in their house slamming the back door behind him.
My missus walks in, shellshocked.
"Did you see that"?
"Very weird", I nodded.
All throughout the day we would hear strange ramblings from next door.
"Don't worry, I'll do the fucking hoovering shall I"?
"You two just sit there and I'll fucking mow the lawn".
"Is it too much to ask for a cup of tea you lazy bastards"?
My wife and I sat there in silence listening to the commotion.
"Very fucking weird" I said to the missus.
"Totally agree", replied the wife, "shall I go and talk to them"?
"Up to you, I'm off to the pub".
Next day I'm up early cutting the grass and Mad Mikey from my local walks out into next doors back garden, crying.
"Mikey, what are you doing" I ask?
"What am I doing, everything, that's what I'm doing whilst they sit there doing fuck all. Ungrateful bitches".
I look towards their house and spot the pair of them watching Mikey and I through the kitchen window. I look back at Mikey who now has tears streaming down his face.
"Mikey, jump over here and have a can with me", I offer.
"No time sorry, I have to make breakfast and then make the beds and do the washing because those two lazy twats wont".
And with that he's gone.
I walk back in the house, mouth down by my ankles.
"Did you just see that" I ask the wife?
"Yeah, was that Mad Mike"?
"Yeah".
"What's he doing there"?
"I have no fucking idea".
Yet again we listen to Mikey shouting and screaming all day long. The next day there's another guy in histronics over the slightest thing. And then another. A different guy all week long.
Finally, on Friday, I'm sitting in the front room and decide to fire up the laptop to play a few games of Poker. I've got this Wi Fi connection and I notice as I'm about to load Full Tilt that I've connected on next doors broadband. And then I notice a site open on my google bar so I open it up and it's a porn site. Strange I think, those two next door must be watching this. And it was strange because it was normal porn not lesbian porn which is what I would expect them to watch. Because I've got Vista the film they're watching is streaming slowly and it's only then I notice subliminal messages between frames. On further carefull studying I eventually begin to be able to read all the messages. And then I realised what the two fucking witches were doing. They had only created the first ever PMT simulation program and had copied it over porn films so that any man watching would wake up in the morning, an hysterical wreck, screaming and crying over the slightest thing. They had obviously been testing it all week and I guessed they were going to start downloading it so that every man on the planet who watches porn, which would be every man, would fall under their evil spell. Right, I thought to myself, I need to put a stop to this now. I got up and started to walk to the door when I noticed my Wife standing there.
"Allright love, what you doing with that shovel"?
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Random rubbish
Seven pm on a Saturday night and I'm sitting in the house, watching Grand Designs, typing this crap. What has my life come to?
Actually my life's all good. Wife and ten year old Daughter are on a Girlies weekend in Bath. Yes, that's right, my Wife has taken my ten year old on a weekend away with her mates. Shopping this afternoon, nice meal tonight. Tomorrow they're off to a health spa. So. I'm home, kicking back and relaxing. Problem is there's fuck all worth watching on TV these days. No Footie, Rugby, Cricket or Golf now Setanta has gone tits up.
Played Golf today. Paid my entry fee for this competition and told the guy I play off 28. He smiled and told me a maximum handicap of 18 for this comp. Still hit 38 points but that was not good enough for a top ten finish. Had it been off full handicaps I would have walked it and been lynched in the bar after.
Might go to my local bar after. Be wrong to not have a few pints when the cats are away, right? Either that or I might go to the casino to see if there are any Poker tourneys on.
Poker Tourneys on-line have been fucked up recently. AK on a AAQ flop, guy goes all in. 22 left, top 20 paid. Been going for 4 and a bit hours. I call and he turns over QQ. That one really pissed me off.
Pissed off with work this week. Been really busy and I haven't had time to sneak off and watch the Ashes which is just around the corner from me. So much for a recession. We're looking at taking on more staff and because of the location of where our factory is, miles from nowhere, we can't get anybody.
Anybody been reading Joppas blog? Fucking brilliant. Best bit was when he posted the photo from his last but one post but that's now disappeared. Even better was when Would be posted it as well. That has disappeared as well though. I've linked them but there's something wrong with my link to JR's blog and it takes me ages to actually connect to be able to read it. The link is on the side of the page though so maybe you'll have better luck getting on it. They also mention Bossanovas blog and his on running lack of an affair with the Ginger one. She actually started off as a Strawberry Blonde. My mate went out with a girl who claimed she was a Strawberry Blonde. He got so fed up with it he took her to B & Q one day and stood her in the paint section and said "now point out a tin that has the colour Strawberry fucking Blonde on it". They didn't last long.
I didn't last long watching Grand Designs and am now watching the Tour de France. I've actually been to two stages of the Tour de France, one in Brive and another in Toulouse. Both times you stand about for hours and then a blaze of bikes come flying past you at about 60 mph which lasts for 20 seconds and then everyone fucks off saying what a great day they've had. Today's stage has a 20km run in with a decent from 1500 to 500 metres to finish with and is a real heart in mouth, hands over eyes, I can't believe how fast these fucking idiots are going TV moment.
Mo ment ioned (see what I did there) on his blog about people watching and how your first impression is usually wide of the mark. I am a perennial eavesdropper and one of the funniest I overheard was in a pub a few months ago. These two guys had pulled these two ropey women sitting next to us and when they go to the bar to buy them a drink the one girl turns to the other and says "I'm going to be in deep shit now, What if my husband finds out?" The other, not even blinking an eye, says "What about me, I'm pregnant!". My mate, who was also eavesdropping, spat his cider straight across the table, which kind of gave away the fact that we were listening to their chat.
Oh well, quick shower and off out.
Later.
Actually my life's all good. Wife and ten year old Daughter are on a Girlies weekend in Bath. Yes, that's right, my Wife has taken my ten year old on a weekend away with her mates. Shopping this afternoon, nice meal tonight. Tomorrow they're off to a health spa. So. I'm home, kicking back and relaxing. Problem is there's fuck all worth watching on TV these days. No Footie, Rugby, Cricket or Golf now Setanta has gone tits up.
Played Golf today. Paid my entry fee for this competition and told the guy I play off 28. He smiled and told me a maximum handicap of 18 for this comp. Still hit 38 points but that was not good enough for a top ten finish. Had it been off full handicaps I would have walked it and been lynched in the bar after.
Might go to my local bar after. Be wrong to not have a few pints when the cats are away, right? Either that or I might go to the casino to see if there are any Poker tourneys on.
Poker Tourneys on-line have been fucked up recently. AK on a AAQ flop, guy goes all in. 22 left, top 20 paid. Been going for 4 and a bit hours. I call and he turns over QQ. That one really pissed me off.
Pissed off with work this week. Been really busy and I haven't had time to sneak off and watch the Ashes which is just around the corner from me. So much for a recession. We're looking at taking on more staff and because of the location of where our factory is, miles from nowhere, we can't get anybody.
Anybody been reading Joppas blog? Fucking brilliant. Best bit was when he posted the photo from his last but one post but that's now disappeared. Even better was when Would be posted it as well. That has disappeared as well though. I've linked them but there's something wrong with my link to JR's blog and it takes me ages to actually connect to be able to read it. The link is on the side of the page though so maybe you'll have better luck getting on it. They also mention Bossanovas blog and his on running lack of an affair with the Ginger one. She actually started off as a Strawberry Blonde. My mate went out with a girl who claimed she was a Strawberry Blonde. He got so fed up with it he took her to B & Q one day and stood her in the paint section and said "now point out a tin that has the colour Strawberry fucking Blonde on it". They didn't last long.
I didn't last long watching Grand Designs and am now watching the Tour de France. I've actually been to two stages of the Tour de France, one in Brive and another in Toulouse. Both times you stand about for hours and then a blaze of bikes come flying past you at about 60 mph which lasts for 20 seconds and then everyone fucks off saying what a great day they've had. Today's stage has a 20km run in with a decent from 1500 to 500 metres to finish with and is a real heart in mouth, hands over eyes, I can't believe how fast these fucking idiots are going TV moment.
Mo ment ioned (see what I did there) on his blog about people watching and how your first impression is usually wide of the mark. I am a perennial eavesdropper and one of the funniest I overheard was in a pub a few months ago. These two guys had pulled these two ropey women sitting next to us and when they go to the bar to buy them a drink the one girl turns to the other and says "I'm going to be in deep shit now, What if my husband finds out?" The other, not even blinking an eye, says "What about me, I'm pregnant!". My mate, who was also eavesdropping, spat his cider straight across the table, which kind of gave away the fact that we were listening to their chat.
Oh well, quick shower and off out.
Later.
Monday, 6 July 2009
My Daughter - the genius in the family
Poker sucks at the moment. Came 12th of twelve in the RTR game after my Jacks ran into Aces. What was galling about the whole thing was Snake came 4th and he didn't even play a hand. My get up and go, got up and went about 7.30 on Saturday morning when it was raining and I couldn't be arsed to play Golf. Just crashed out of a couple of MTT's so have given up for the evening. Know that if I go to bed I'll just lie there for hours, wide awake, thinking of all kinds of shite. Yet, sitting here in the front room, watching all kinds of shite on the TV, I can't think of anything interesting to write about. Well, apart from my Daughter.
I knew she was going to be intelligent because I am. Only joking, I knew she was going to be intelligent after this.
One day in school she had to write a story about childbirth and she asked me, "How was I born?"
"Well Babes..." said I, "the stork brought you to us."
"Oh," she said, "Well, how did you and Mammy get born?" she asked.
"The stork brought us too love."
"Well how were Granny and Grandpa born?" She persisted.
"Well darling, the stork brought them too!" I said, starting to get really fed up with my Missus lack of participation in my humiliation, which she's normally so good at.
Several days later my Daughter handed in her story to the teacher who read with confusion the opening sentence:
"This report has been very difficult to write due to the fact that there hasn't been a natural childbirth in my family for three generations."
My Mum was a Doctor, my Gran a nurse and my Mother in Law was a nurse as well so I've always hoped my ten year old would take up a medical profession when she's older. Seems she has started already.
Even though she hates all boys, good girl, my Wife's mate has a boy in the same class as her and she quite regularly goes round their house for tea. Tonight, Steves Mum brings her home, Quite perplexed to say the least.
"Whassup Andrea" I ask?
"I caught your Daughter and my little Stevie playing Doctors and Nurses just now" she blurts out looking extremely flustered.
"Oh" is about all I can muster, "I'll get Jen to talk to her when she gets home. I didn't think we'd be having the birds and the bees talk with her at ten years old but kids grow up so fast these days don't they Andrea"?
Andrea fixes me a glare and almost spits out, "birds and bees, your Daughters removed Steves appendix".
Anyhow, she brought her school report home today and she came top of her class. She speaks Welsh and English as fluently as a ten year old can and is learning Spanish. She excels at Maths and is on the top table in every other subject. The only negative comment was that "she can't throw a ball"!!!
I can live with that, just.
Later.
I knew she was going to be intelligent because I am. Only joking, I knew she was going to be intelligent after this.
One day in school she had to write a story about childbirth and she asked me, "How was I born?"
"Well Babes..." said I, "the stork brought you to us."
"Oh," she said, "Well, how did you and Mammy get born?" she asked.
"The stork brought us too love."
"Well how were Granny and Grandpa born?" She persisted.
"Well darling, the stork brought them too!" I said, starting to get really fed up with my Missus lack of participation in my humiliation, which she's normally so good at.
Several days later my Daughter handed in her story to the teacher who read with confusion the opening sentence:
"This report has been very difficult to write due to the fact that there hasn't been a natural childbirth in my family for three generations."
My Mum was a Doctor, my Gran a nurse and my Mother in Law was a nurse as well so I've always hoped my ten year old would take up a medical profession when she's older. Seems she has started already.
Even though she hates all boys, good girl, my Wife's mate has a boy in the same class as her and she quite regularly goes round their house for tea. Tonight, Steves Mum brings her home, Quite perplexed to say the least.
"Whassup Andrea" I ask?
"I caught your Daughter and my little Stevie playing Doctors and Nurses just now" she blurts out looking extremely flustered.
"Oh" is about all I can muster, "I'll get Jen to talk to her when she gets home. I didn't think we'd be having the birds and the bees talk with her at ten years old but kids grow up so fast these days don't they Andrea"?
Andrea fixes me a glare and almost spits out, "birds and bees, your Daughters removed Steves appendix".
Anyhow, she brought her school report home today and she came top of her class. She speaks Welsh and English as fluently as a ten year old can and is learning Spanish. She excels at Maths and is on the top table in every other subject. The only negative comment was that "she can't throw a ball"!!!
I can live with that, just.
Later.
Friday, 3 July 2009
All going wrong
Jeez it's been a shit week.
First off, I'm in the bookies last Friday night and the English U21 score came up. England were 3-0 up and I said to the guy behind the counter £if I was at home now I'd lay them". By the time I got home it was 3-2 and the game ended 3-3. £750,000 traded at 1.01 which means for every £10 you lay you return a £1000. Gutted.
Was also going to back Murray when Nadal was uncertain whether he was going to play. Didn't and Murray is now in the Semi's. Gutted.
Sportinglife run a piece about Martin Kaymer in the French Open (still up on their site), and I chose to ignore it. He shoots 9 under in the 1st round. Gutted.
Decided to play Poker seriously this month. Lost 7 STT's in a row before making a comeback to finish level. Then bombed out of 3 MTT's when KJ on a KJ5 flop ran into pocket 5's. Another one was 77 on an A76 flop where my oppo hit runner runner spades for a flush. Finally, last night, in a super turbo 200 runner shit fest on Laddies, I'm in a decent position and with the blinds going up quickly there's about four all ins every orbit. Front door goes and I fold J10, answer the door, come back to see that I'm all in against AA. Ticked call any instead of fold any. Worst still, I'm chat banned because some useless twat that I let play on my account was roundly abusing everyone on there. Gutted.
Anyhow, Raise the River are running tournaments every Sunday night for the next two months. Overall winner wins a trip to Paris. If you're a member I'm sure I'll see you on the tables. If you're not a member then why the fuck not? Cannot wait to humiliate that Super Fish Amatay.
Happy Fourth of July to all Americans that read this shit.
When my Daughter was five she had this American girl in her class (she's still there). This girl had been born in Hawaii, both her parents moved here to lecture in the University of Wales which just goes to prove how stupid Lecturers really are. She had only been there a term so the teacher decided to have a Fourth of July party for her, Cakes, squash and a DVD. My Daughter asks me the night before why the Fourth of July is so special so I tell her in my own inimitable way.
"Britain had been involved in lengthy wars with the Bastards (France) and Spain for several years. This had financially ruined the British Government so King George III imposed taxes on America to recoup some cash. The Americans weren't impressed and evetually they set up a congress headed by John Hancock and went to war with Britain. On the Fourth of July 1776 a Declaration of Independance was drafted and signed by 9 of the 13 States and was sent to King George III, meaning they formally broke away from British rule. Thus America became the United States of America and a country in their own right".
The next day my Daughters teacher asked if anyone knew why the Fourth of July was so special to Americans. My Daughter stood up and informed her class that "America sent George an e-mail saying they were not friends anymore".
If only life was that simple.
Later.
First off, I'm in the bookies last Friday night and the English U21 score came up. England were 3-0 up and I said to the guy behind the counter £if I was at home now I'd lay them". By the time I got home it was 3-2 and the game ended 3-3. £750,000 traded at 1.01 which means for every £10 you lay you return a £1000. Gutted.
Was also going to back Murray when Nadal was uncertain whether he was going to play. Didn't and Murray is now in the Semi's. Gutted.
Sportinglife run a piece about Martin Kaymer in the French Open (still up on their site), and I chose to ignore it. He shoots 9 under in the 1st round. Gutted.
Decided to play Poker seriously this month. Lost 7 STT's in a row before making a comeback to finish level. Then bombed out of 3 MTT's when KJ on a KJ5 flop ran into pocket 5's. Another one was 77 on an A76 flop where my oppo hit runner runner spades for a flush. Finally, last night, in a super turbo 200 runner shit fest on Laddies, I'm in a decent position and with the blinds going up quickly there's about four all ins every orbit. Front door goes and I fold J10, answer the door, come back to see that I'm all in against AA. Ticked call any instead of fold any. Worst still, I'm chat banned because some useless twat that I let play on my account was roundly abusing everyone on there. Gutted.
Anyhow, Raise the River are running tournaments every Sunday night for the next two months. Overall winner wins a trip to Paris. If you're a member I'm sure I'll see you on the tables. If you're not a member then why the fuck not? Cannot wait to humiliate that Super Fish Amatay.
Happy Fourth of July to all Americans that read this shit.
When my Daughter was five she had this American girl in her class (she's still there). This girl had been born in Hawaii, both her parents moved here to lecture in the University of Wales which just goes to prove how stupid Lecturers really are. She had only been there a term so the teacher decided to have a Fourth of July party for her, Cakes, squash and a DVD. My Daughter asks me the night before why the Fourth of July is so special so I tell her in my own inimitable way.
"Britain had been involved in lengthy wars with the Bastards (France) and Spain for several years. This had financially ruined the British Government so King George III imposed taxes on America to recoup some cash. The Americans weren't impressed and evetually they set up a congress headed by John Hancock and went to war with Britain. On the Fourth of July 1776 a Declaration of Independance was drafted and signed by 9 of the 13 States and was sent to King George III, meaning they formally broke away from British rule. Thus America became the United States of America and a country in their own right".
The next day my Daughters teacher asked if anyone knew why the Fourth of July was so special to Americans. My Daughter stood up and informed her class that "America sent George an e-mail saying they were not friends anymore".
If only life was that simple.
Later.
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