Fun With Numbers

Yesterday there was a corporate self-betterment class called "Career Planning".  As in the past, my personal interest in the matter was slim-to-none, however recent enlightment that is not pushed by the economy but rather break some walls down that have drilled me down a ladder climbing hole so deep that I would take less money just to do something that the true minions of advancement would use to springboard to their next promotion.

After pre-taking the Strong Interest Inventory, I learned the following things that I already knew about myself but nice to have it confirmed:

-  Accounting was the #1 fit for likes/dislikes followed by Banker, Credit Manager, and Strip Club jizz mopper



- Conventional learning skills were at the forefront while Artistic ones lagged behind so far most occupations with Artistic backgrounds scored in the negative points on a range from -20 to 80 with -20 being the job most likely to cause one's self to beg for Jigsaw to show up and create an elaborate death trap before reaching your desk every day, and 80 being the job that you'd give up sex, steak, sleep, and Butterscotch Krimpets Tastykakes (available online!!!!!).

- Enjoying to lead by example versus taking charge and delgating the work others hit my personality on the nose.  Learning by doing and learning for a reason versus picking up a book on the French language to read a French Cuisine cookbook and whipping up some five-course meal consisting entirely of words my lisp-filled tongue couldn't possibly pronounce.

The class also made me realize that if I don't make a change soon the resentment of not stretching myself at the regular job versus the one get to show-off some creativity and that I truly enjoy, apathy will seep in deeply enough to kill any chance of moving ahead if/when that four-year college degree becomes real.  As nerdy as it sounds, I do enjoy working with and analyzing data, it's just how I'm built.  Granted the life story of a tall poker playing married accountant doesn't have the ring of a traveling man in quest of the next rush, it is genuine, there are sparks away from the faceless spreadsheets.  Those breaks from linear parenting/married life just come fewer and further between.  But for those who drop here, you will get an honest story if not a dry one at times as there's so much gushing about one's offspring before gagging starts (LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!!!!)

 A quick aside...  I saw this article about the nth attempt to push through a racino (or two) in Minnesota and once again my lack of understand and gross dislike of politics has me scratching my freshly cut hair.

These are the ideas/quotes I understand but tell me why they happen in a nation where THE PEOPLE'S OPINION is supposed to rule?

Sen. Sandy Pappas, DFL-St. Paul, acknowledged what Day suspects — that the bill, sponsored by Sen. Dan Sparks, DFL-Austin, doesn't stand much of a chance in committee.


"I haven't looked myself at the numbers, but I would doubt it," Pappas said. "There's never been very much support for racino."

O-rly?

Further up the article you'll see these poll numbers:

At issue is not only expanding gambling in Minnesota — something the state's American Indian tribes with gambling venues staunchly oppose, but which 80 percent of Minnesotans in a recent KSTP/Survey USA poll said they support — but also the even touchier issue of the role money plays in politics.


Granted there's nothing noted of the poll size/economic background/ability to somehow drink Michelob Ultra/if they stood outside of Canterbury Park asking if they would like a casino inside but 80 percent with a generous +/- of say eight percent error rate seems like more than a majority.  Now the argument of a saturation point for gambling the state, I can buy that, but for the committee who is partially backed by tribal casino dollars to have the final say on whether or not a couple of fine looking race tracks can't upgrade to having slot machines is like asking an actor if they would like to nominate themselves for an Oscar/Emmy/Golden Globe.

Rollin' In My Eight-Seven

I wanted to have a nice picture of the car that I may be using to shuttle to Pokerama's home games and providing a sober cab for Speaker (drop his site to offer some love as he's currently trying to kick cigs to the curb again).

But it remains in an undisclosed downtown location until the folks at West Coast Customs pimp out my soon-to-be-acquired 87' Cavalier which is only two years younger then my original high school car.

And I really don't care. Just having the ability again to grab a gallon of milk from Cub Foods without it becoming a two hour jaunt with the double stroller and praying that one diaper and a Spider-man baggie full of graham cracker bites was enough, is heaven.

Of course a midnight run to Canterbury wouldn't suck either.

On the casino note, my second of four such trips within six weeks is this weekend at the expanding from a bingo size penny slot trap, to a decent size casino... Black Bear. The trip to Grand Casino in the previous weeks did not provide any WD-40 while extracting mobneys from my diaper rash sore ass. The only notable part of the trip was the tortellini in cream sauce with asparagus, ham, and... thick cut bacon. Still drooling over that plate, and would gladly dump another couple hundred on the blackjack tables for a repeat performance inside my mouth.

Sadly the Black Bear's restaurant/buffet's food looks up at McDonald's in quality, so I'll have to settle on some greasy chicken fingers at their deli-styled side eatery while downing my usual quantity of Cap'n Cokes. Since the casino's promixity to the hotel rooms is only a decent long toss by an outfielder, I'll be able to crawl back to the room without any drunken chariot rides in wheelchairs while shouting STOP SPILLING MY DRINK!!!!

Thanks for dropping by, now be sure to check out the spread of bloggeristic type tourneys this evening and weekend if you have nothing better to do than curse the american public for NOT VOTING OFF SANAJAY AGAIN!!!!!!11111ONEONEONEONE.

People suck.

From Al's list:

Tournament: Riverchasers Tour Event #6
Where: Full Tilt
When: Thursday, 9pm ETGame: NLHE
Buyin: $10+1
password: riverchasers6

Tournament: CC's Thursday Bash
Where: PokerStar
When: Thursday, 9:30pm ET
Game: NLHEBuyin: $10+1
password: pokerworks

Tournament: Riverchasers Special Event #2
Where: Full Tilt
When: Sunday, March 25th 2pm ET
Game: H.O.R.S.E. Deepstack
Buyin: $24+2 or token
password: riverHorse

Tournament: WPBT Event #3
Where: Full Tilt
When: Sunday, March 25th 9pm ET
Game: Razz
Buyin: $24+2 or token
password: Bloggers only, please.

Meat Goes Mooooooooooo

Warroad 3

Albert Lea 1

April wins a free date at CC's weekly tourney (next week because I'm not going home after work). And yes I let her choose the team, I doubt it would have been fair for me to do it.

I'm continuing to make some out-of-body horrible calls at the cash games this week which irks me to no end. Posting a profitable day doesn't seem to have the same flavor when you're making bad decisions on the end. But a win is a win and I'll add it to my stacks of pennies with the good intention of joining my favorite degenerates on a trip later this year should my recent profitablity stick round for another couple of a months.



If I get sick at the casino tonight there will be a return visit to the Ruby Tuesday's as my family decided to drop by there for a meal last night. A spunky, decent looking blonde similar to that bookish blonde chick on Smallville made the first mistake of the night besides not performing a table dance in her slimming, ass clinging black uniform. She seats us next to some high stakes bingo players who were smarting over their loss afternoon session with hi-balls and seven trips to the salad bar. I didn't want to smell the Ben-Gay, they didn't want to listen to Wyatt playing tic-tac-toe with his father and throwing a few fist pumps after connecting three X's in an "L" shape design. Open space to the left, front, and right but seated right next to the only other group in the section, strike one.

Strike two took a little longer as our waiter took one too many bong hits while retrieving another gravel tasting libation for the AARP crowd and some how managed to walk by the screaming 10 month old for nearly 10 minutes. I finally instructed the wife to stick one of her lovely stems outwards to gain a two minute penalty for tripping. After our hero retrieved his writing utensil from his anal cavity, he only took another 10 minutes to retrieve a tall Blue Moon and vodka collins after watching him disappear into the kitchen and keeping a firm eye on the too-young-to-be-slinging-drinks bartender who never got our order until our overweight Spicoli handed it to her.

Then the strikeout with some high-stinkin cheese came with the meal. First the portions were slimed down to manage my adonis frame, while I appreciated the thoughtfulness, the prices remained around $10 for the bacon cheeseburger with batter fried onion shavings. Throw some slaw in or something to justify the price.

What sealed the bad night was after I cut my burger in two (which I always do since I enjoy dipping my round patty of meat into BBQ/Honey Mustard/Ketchup) and found the middle of the burger chewing some grass on the prairie. "Medium Well" was the demand from my lips to the space cadet when we finally flagged him down from the now bustiling three tables he was waiting on. He looked perplexed that I even suggested how I wanted my slab of cow done, but for a $10 burger it was my assumpion they would honor such a request.

Next time I'll busy myself with talking to the low-slung light fixtures left-over from Shakey's Pizza instead of asking for my meat not to moo back at me with every bite.

Thanks for dropping by, now I've pleaded with the morons who continue to let Sanjajerqoiwrj make my ears bleed. Don't be an assface, just vote for Jesus boy and go back to your article in Tiger Beat about who broke Ashley's heart.

And if you're rooting for Edina in today's Class AA Minnesota High School hockey starting round, I hope you fall face first into the icy pavement while getting out of your Hummer.