Dumb Plays, Boogers and Come Home Michael
I have nothing to say.
Never stopped you before.
I was gonna re-hash my ignominious exit from the Crazy Re-Buy on Saturday night, but, in the end, I decided it won't be all that constructive to curious readers out there. It's pretty simple. I was on a bit of a rush, over-burdened with hubris, a little drunk and a lot stupid. No defense for that.
I didn't stop to think. "Steal" flashed into my head and I went forward--plunging, headlong into the abyss--from there. Stack size, range of hands, new table, position in tournament...none of 'em even registered.
Well played, sir. Well played.
Thanks though to the commentors who pointed out my idiocy. Very insightful, along the lines of "You're brown" or "You need a haircut."
I keed, I keed.
By the way, my pet nickname for pocket 4s is Mr. October. Maybe that had something to do with it. But I see '44' and I immediately think Reginald Martinez Jackson, even though he wore 9 with the A's. Is there a more famous 44 in the sporting world? I think not. Just for the record, after I think Reggie, I think Robert Newhouse.
Spent most of yesterday on yard work, the only quasi-interesting thing about that being that I have a sun-burned butt crack. Yes, I was sans shirt and bending frequently, driving all the Desperate Housewives in the tract mad with desire. Or repulsion.
This whole home-ownership thing is really quite the pain in the ass. We've lived in our home about 15 months and are slowly--and not so surely--getting it in the shape we want. But each project takes months and in the meantime, you still have to maintain everything else.
I finally renovated The Booger Room. What was once to be my den, and indeed it was where I first logged onto Party Poker, had become a storing house for all things AJ. It was just an absolute mess, so much so that the dear and patient wife and I just surrendered. Do with it what you will, my son. Someday, after you've destroyed it beyond repair, we'll figure out what to do.
That kind of thinking only works for a while on me, though. I get frustrated with mess. Which is not to say I'm the cleanest guy around. Just that I'm very likely to go off on a major cleaning binge when I get fed up. So it was the The Booger Room.
About three weeks ago, I got the idea to convert it into AJ's playroom. Why we didn't take this particular tack from the start, I don't know. It's the perfect spot for it. But it said "den" on the blueprints, so I guess we were brainwashed. I dismantled the desk and bookcase and removed the rest of the furniture. I steam-cleaned the carpet, resulting in a shockingly pristine shag considering the playdoh, juice and godknowswhatelse stains my boy perpetuated lo these many months. I white-washed the walls, removing crayon, pen, dirt and yes, boogers.
See, that's why we called it the Booger Room. AJ would pick himself a winner and casually wipe it on the wall. No matter how many times he was warned off this behavior, it persisted. He's gonna be quite a hit with the ladies, doncha think?
I brought in a TV for his video games, bought all manner of shelves and containers for his toys and last, but not at all least, held an hour-long lecture/demonstration with Booger Boy about the proper way to care for his shiny new playroom.
So far, so good. Of course, I've yet to figure out where to put all the shit that was previously in the den. Which is the point of all this. Now I have to do the same crap to another room. Then another. You'd think I'd run out of rooms, but there's this whole domino thing and I fear simply running around in circles for the rest of my natural life.
To wit: My mother is giving us this very nice old wardrobe which will go very nicely in our bedroom. Instantly, the dear and patient wife starts in with all the things that will go so well with this piece and how we can move x to y and q to....STOP!
I'm still a little shell-shocked from scraping boogers off the wall.
Disappointing start to the Premiership for Liverpool, their road woes from last term seemingly still an issue. They were the better club, created the better chances and Gerrard should have had a couple. But the attack is still fair, at best, failing to dent the scoresheeet even with a man advantage late on. New (and relatively new) boys Morientes, Cisse, Zenden and Sissoko were all sub-standard. When Baros is shipped elsewhere, it's incumbent upon Rafa to bring in another attacking option.
I have a fucking suggestion.