Thursday, April 23, 2009

Rage unseen since Jessica Simpson couldn't fit into a size 4 jeans

According to the internets, there should be a rage flowing thru my body over Susan Boyle's "never been kissed" proclaimation. Blog buzz is reaching crest unseen since someone came up with the idea to place links from your site to one showing hardcore anal cattle prod porn.


I have never seen the video of her singing (which is supposed to be good).

There's a saying in the Fark community about women looking like Ms. Boyle (or guys, but mostly women because most internet posting trolls are men by nature and they lacked their mother's love while she always gave the extra strip of bacon to their sibling and this is their way of getting back at that salty pork fiend).

"Kill it with fire".

Except I would point the M2-2 Flamethrower at these lovely interwebs for spreading this story and make it stop before my eyes bleed and force myself to watch a replay of the most recent Victoria Secret TV special. We get it that she lacks the basic modelistic outlines one would expect in a showsinger or maybe even in a hausfrau. Stop spreading the hate and start snapping up more video of Keeley Hazell, maybe use Boyle's voice in the background singing an aria about heavenly bodies so people can appreciate both of their beauties.


Ok, the Mookie.

It sucked that the servers went down.

It sucked that a decent night of tournament poker did not receive its proper end.

But, dem the breaks. Full Tilt has done too much for poker bloggers over the years, and many people I'd consider friends under their employ, its hard to muster up a stupid 2006-ish rant about online poker being unstable.

Its a paper cut. With a kiss, some neosporin, and a clear Dora lined band-aid there's no reason to bemoan the fact that this was probably my best (read: only) of grabbing a BBT4 TOC seat. There's no fuel in the tank for these late nights/early mornings should luck shine a little light on my laptop for some cards.

This Sunday I was very deep in a Pot Limit Hold em/Omaha MTT and all my wife could do was ask every five minute if I was coming outside. Despite telling her there's X amount of people left, I rush through decisions based on cards versus playing back at the people I saw as weak.

Last night during the pivotal hand of the final table run, a half-awake Wyatt decided somewhere around 11 o'clock that it was a great idea to come upstairs, drop trou right in front of me and the laptop with a mini fire hose of piss ready to burst. After rushing him into bathroom, I come back to see myself holding Q-something offsuit the board showing two ladies on it and a timer ticking to fold. Nabbed quads on the turn managed to get my short-stack out of the hole and an hour later watched first time poker blogger Dr. Pauly come to the table with a decent stack when the blue final table backdrop appeared.

20 minutes later the servers went down, I had a similar stack to everyone except Pauly, after waiting about 15 minutes, shot an email to that rookie, wishing him luck as he picked up the humble job of blogging about poker and went to salvage a few hours of sleep.

Bad luck? Perhaps. But poker isn't about luck now is it? :)


A question to the masses: You see a pop up window in the morning after downing your third overpriced Venti triple shot espresso proclaiming your password is soon to expire. If given ten days to change it, how soon does your columbian bean filled head take to do it?

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