Final Destination

My wife doesn’t enjoy horror flicks but managed to watch this Ali Larter/Stifler movie about kids who cheat death and death decided it ain’t going out like that and comes back to get them in rather gruesome ways. I was eagerly awaiting the requisite shower scene of the whipped cream bikini chick, but was disappointed at the lack of attempts to get her naked.

The theme of the movie puts you into a paranoid state as there are “signs” before each decapitation/explosion/strangling as to how the walking dead will reach their “final destination”. This morning, I saw the signs that today will be one big suck-fest of unfortunate events as my wonderful bagel got burnt, the fat cat decided if he could not have my glass of milk I can’t either, I lost my ID work badge, and this cow-lick hairdo from bed head hell just won’t move when the family is set to take pictures this afternoon.

At least my aces didn’t get cracked.

Yesterday was setting up to be a similar line of killjoy as Carolina managed to choke on both sides of the ball late in the fourth quarter to deplete my last scraps of imaginary sports wagering funds. My Marie Callender pot pie was still cold in the middle and the baby decided it was a good time to test how far she could shoot shit up the back of her diaper again.

Then the Vikes came on and decided to let the SeaChickens work them over on third and long repetitively, only being granted reprieve when there was an overthrown pass on an open receiver.

Then it happened.

Matt Hasselbeck went down on a rolled knee much like the Carson Palmer injury last year and the Seahawks were down to their JV team as Shawn Alexander and Bobby Ingram were still nursing injuries. The Vikes took advantage of the gift and managed to not suck for the remaining two quarters en route to a 31-13 victory that wasn’t expected (but my imaginary sportsbook account loved). You know how you feel after beating someone at the poker tables that shouldn’t have been playing? Its fun, it fattens your wallet, but there’s an emptiness that you didn’t win by outplaying the other player. This win for the Vikes should feel like that, except for the run defense which looked every bit as dominate as they have been all season.

After the Pats at home, the Vikes are looking at a rather soft schedule coming up to potentially get their season back on track.

Speaking of getting back on track, I’ve been playing some significant poker for the first time in many months. The limit O8 tables are a fun exercise in emotional control as the swings are something that isn’t for the faint of heart. I guess playing 6-max on top of that causes even more heartburn then some limp sesame chicken from Leeann Chin’s (normally its very good, must have caught a bad batch). Some 50-60BBs variance swings this weekend have helped to numb the outward emotion I’ve tried to quell when taking “a beat”. Yes, one-outers suck. Yes, it hurts when the board pairs, doom switch thoughts swirl in your head, and on cue the check-caller in middle position gets happy pants and starts spamming his raise button. Yes, it sucks when the wife suddenly tells you some house work needs to be done right in the middle of the football game. Yes, you should just man up and stop looking for signs that it’s going to be a bad session.

Just because your flush didn’t pan out, that race didn’t swing your way, or your delicious cinnamon-raisin bagel became something Wayne Gretzky take a slap shot at, it’s not a sign of imminent death. Move on to the next hand, if Bill Frist decides to let us.

Thanks for dropping by, now please drop by the PPA’s website to see a listing of all the media concerning online poker’s fight to become legalized and regulated. You might be surprised to see who else is against this nanny law type legistation.

And SKOL VIKINGS!