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I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that phase.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space
And when you're out there
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice
Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control
Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done
Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
-- crazy, gnarles barkley
i was looking through my picture folders on my computer (i have a habit of carrying my camera pretty much everywhere- consequently, i get some pretty interesting shots), and i noticed that i am pretty adept at making everyone look good except for myself. and actually, i don't think i 'make them look good' persay, but the better i am accquainted with someone, the more appealing the photographs become. i suppose they are pleasing to me because they show the subject the way i see them every day... the fondness i have for them comes through in the picture itself.
i have no idea why i thought the above paragraph was noteworthy enough to post on livejournal, except for the following facts: i just got home from a 12 and a half hour long shift at work, and i can't seem to peel my tired ass off of the computer chair, and i am supposed to do dishes before i go to bed. procrastination is an art form for me, i swear. or at least a major outlet of creativity. :)
so chuck comes into the bar tonight,
and i remember being annoyed
cause he always brags about what a good tipper he is
and usually leaves around 12 percent.
plus, he wants his blue moons served with chilled
glasses, and fresh orange slices.
maybe he thinks it's that kind of bar, and maybe
it is- i mean, we stock both of those things.
i'm just not that kind of bartender.
chuck is there, and i am taking my time
getting to him... i finally walk over, and ask him in
the most disinterested voice i can muster
hey, hon; how are you?
he says fine, and reciprocates.
i tell him i have pinkeye- hence the sunglasses
i have donned this particular night
and that i just want my shift to end.
well, i don't think this will make your night any better
and tells me that wade died.
wade who still has two of my cds, wade who is
kissing my cheek in that picture from halloween
i use in several of my online profiles.
it's just a good picture of me.
i cut as much of his face out as i could, actually.
wade the heroin addict. i told him he'd better slow down
so many times, and he told me he would, and
we've sung and danced like that for a few years now
off and on abstractly, but not anymore. wade's dead,
and it wasn't the smack that laid him out, it was some stupid
kidney infection- though everyone is starting to hum
the needle and the damage done.
i told todd, an off-duty comrade who happened
to be lurking about in a superhero costume
(don't ask), and the first thing he said was that wade had a t-shirt
of his. then he drank what must have been him 7th
shot, and said i wish you hadn't told me that...
wade was my friend.
he put the glass down, and pulled his mask back on.
in closing, he still has my t-shirt. it came out slurred, or maybe
the rubber airhole was too small.
he went back around to where his friends were sitting.
i think he won't remember tomorrow.
chuck left right after he told me, and todd
departed soon after, and the last call campers
still wanted shooters and declarations of
alcoholic love like not a damn thing changed.
i wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves but i just
kept pouring because i wasn't even sure if i was pissed
because wade died or because i couldn't get a second
all to myself to give a shit.
i did my sidework and two bumps, because i have discovered
the best way to date a robert downey junior is to less than zero like
jamie gertz. she was so hot in that movie. in real life, i am not.
in real life, powder is for babies.
purpose served, though: for an hour or two i forgot all about wade.
coming home, i remembered, and then i felt pretty sick
because he's still dead, i still have pinkeye,
and robert downey never called.
i broke my sunglasses, too.
wade used to defend the swastika
as an ancient hindu symbol of peace.
we argued about that for hours.
I'm an Emotional Idiot
so get away from me.
that's too close,
give me some space
it's a big country,
there's plenty of room,
don't sit so close to me.
Hey, where are you?
I haven't seen you in days.
Whadya, having an affair?
Who is she?
aren't I enough for you?
You're so cold.
I never know what you're thinking.
You're not very affectionate.
you're clinging to me,
DON'T TOUCH ME,
what am I, your fucking cat?
Don't rub me like that.
Don't you have anything better to do
than sit there fawning over me?
Don't you have any interests?
Sailing Fly fishing
There's an archeology expedition leaving tomorrow
why don't you go?
I'll loan you the money,
my money is your money.
my life is your life
my soul is yours
without you I'm nothing.
Move in with me
we'll get a studio apartment together, save on rent,
well, wait, I mean, a one bedroom,
so we don't get in each other's hair or anything
maybe a two bedroom
I'll have my own bedroom,
it's nothing personal
I just need to be alone sometimes,
you do understand,
Hey, why are you acting distant?
Where you goin',
was it something I said?
What did I do?
I'm an emotional idiot
so get away from me
i can't believe i am about to type this, but poker night is getting to be a little... overwhelming. there were so many people here last night that there was a third 'table' on the kitchen floor (we usually have the one sort of regulation size hold 'em table, and a table cover that goes over the coffee table in the living room- dubbed 'the kiddie table'). there was a 12 of heineken, a 12 of bud, a 6 of bud light, and all of the beer i had purchased (6 of guiness, 6 of hoegarden, 6 of blue moon). our fridge is barren this morning. though i will say that the late night crew did an excellent job of cleaning up. when i got up with the babe this AM, i couldn't tell that anyone had been here at all.
frustrating night all around. the cards weren't coming my way, and when they did, my roomate or someone betting after me would come way over the top of whatever raise i put in. i mean, we have a ten dollar buy in, and people tend to play more loosely at the end of the night when a) they've been drinking, and b) the chip stacks have advanced proportionately to the late hour. but right from the get-go, a few people were routinely betting two to five dollars before the flop even came. and if someone reraised (which was not uncommon), it was more than likely there would be an all-in call. i lost at least 6 of my ten bucks sandwiched in-between a reraiser and an all-inner.
and being a good hostess was taxing last night. usually, i love to do it. but with more people comes more issues to solve, and things to find. the people on my kitchen floor were pissed because they were regulars and didn't want to be relegated to the linoleum (while newbies got comfy chairs and a real table), the people at the kiddie table wanted shots and a way to adjust the lighting so that it wasn't too bright, but still lit enough to see the cards... and the people at the main table seemed to be constantly misplacing the paper towels.
and my roomate... well, i love her; she is the closest friend i have in this time zone. but damn, i hate playing cards with her when she's drunk. the guys aren't going to mind as much because, after all, she's hot.
ugh. still sick. please, please, please... let veronica mars or bones be on tonight. i'm sick of watching dvr reruns.
Current Music: bob dylan, 'simple twist of fate'
apparently, south dakota has just lost its mind. i mean, sure, i question the political and moral inclinations of many in that state, but the whole damn collective telling the federal government (in effect) to kiss its ass is a little extreme, you know?
went to atlantic city this weekend... bought in for 100 bucks; after a bit i was up to 537. i cashed out, and was quite pleased to have made rent in two hours. the rest of the time i spent reading this (in keeping with the theme, of course), and writing.
if i thought i was a good enough enough poker player (instead of immensely lucky), i would go up to atlantic city once a month for a day, buy in for a hundred dollars, and see what happens. i mean, if i could pull rent on a sunday afternoon once a month, i would do it.
however, i know that annie duke i am not. i think the fact that, in atlantic city at least, young female poker players are in frighteningly short demand tends to help me out initially. the guys at my table were either inclined to chat with me in a friendly, psuedo-flirtatious manner, or to see me as a cute little mark. for instance, after i had shown down A-A and A-Q in back-to-back hands, the guys next to me loudly intoned that i was a tight player- only going after a pot when i had the best or close to the best hands. the next pot i took (the board ended up being 4-J-5-J-4), i aggresively bet into, causing the last guy to fold on the river. i showed my cards anyway: pocket threes. in essence, i had pretty much bluffed that pot, because there were a few full-house possibilities (or at least sets- three of a kind), and a flush as well (the board contained three clubs). given that i only had threes, my cards didn't even play (the board had me beat with two pair, fours and jacks). and what do i get for my well-executed (or really lucky) bluff? old guy on the opposite end asks the guy next to him: 'doesn't she know that fours beat threes'? jeez. i then had to explain that i was in fact bluffing, and using the fact that the table acknowledged me as a conservative player (not an unusual label for women at the poker table) to my advantage. they looked somewhat skeptical, but the next hand i flopped a set that became a full house on the river, and ended up taking another large pot (and knocking two guys out). after that, the table gave me verbal accolades of 'street cred', and i was initiated as 'one of the boys'. heh.
i am not nearly as conservative at the table as i once was, but i am still tight-assed when it comes to my chip stack. the more cash i rake in, the more nervous i get. in fact, right after i hit five hundred, corey (a friend who had come with me) came over and asked if i wanted to grab some food. i stuck around and garnered a few more 15 to 20 dollar pots, but i was quite relieved to leave the table after that. most good players see big stacks as a powerful tool at the poker table, especially in no limit, but i just see more money for me to lose. well, in atlantic city, anyhow. at my house game, i have no issue bullying the pot now and then. :)
okay. must go to bank, wash and fold, and merriman's (to pick up my cold medicine). i feel like ick.
fuck. i threw my cellphone (aiming for the couch cushions), but it went high, and dissapeared behind the couch itself.
i'd have to dismantle the thing to reach the my phone.
there's a hint of humor. i can't even throw a hissy fit appropriately. :)
had an impromptu poker night this evening. ended up taking in 48 bucks; not bad for only five people playing. i like smaller games, or, to be more accurate, smaller tables. at full tables the pots are bigger, but my intuitive understanding of things like outs and playable hands is much more conservative. and i like action, not folding, dammit. and besides, a rousing hand of omaha will make a pot at even a small table a nice takedown. :)
i drank my orange tangerine juice (4 grams of carbs) and stayed mellow. after last night, i would have to say that that's exactly what i should be doing with most of my nights, if not all of them. should be isn't always what is, though.
ah, well, here's to hoping. it's not that hard. i just have to commit.
Current Music: 'i want all of you', the verve pipe
man, everyone was evil at work last night. we were cutting people off left and right. i hate it when they try to get sneaky, and procure a drink anyhow. they are drunk, i (and the other bartender) are not. hence 'sneaky' is more annoying and obvious.
even the regulars. around 1:25, justin came up to me and said, 'you're gonna hate me. i need three royal flushes, a coors light, a pack of cigarettes, and three b-52s.' the rest wasn't so bad, but a b-52 is a layered drink, and is majorly time-consuming. fucker. i gave him the beer on the house- his tab was 54.50, and he left me sixty. again i say: fucker.
there was some eye candy afoot, though (saturday nights have somehow turned into 'straight night' at the bar)... so all wasn't lost.
okay. time to go right back to work. :)
weird thursday evening thus far. all i am trying to do is go to bed, actually.
my roomate (who also has a child) was going to go out for a few hours tonight, and then come home and let me have my fifteen minutes of fun, as it were. last time we made this arrangement, though, she didn't manage to make it back home until after last call, so i figured that might be the case this evening, as well. i was not dissapointed. well, not in my skills of deduction, that is. i was slightly dissapointed that i had put on so much eye makeup for no good reason. :)
a mutual friend called at about 1:00 AM to tell me that my roomate was pretty wasted, and was most likely not coming home until she was forced to. then she asked if she could come over and garner advice from me on a topic she was rather vague about. i have a feeling it's going to take a while.
at 1:19 AM, i heard someone coming up the stairs (i figured it was my friend dinky- gotta love the ironic nicknames), but it was my neighbor andrew. he was trashed, and muttered something about 'checking to see if all was good and happy because of the computers'. i think, because he used to live here (we swapped apartments almost a year ago), he just got so drunk he accidentally showed up at his old residence. heh. i don't know, though... he was barefoot. i made polite small talk for a few minutes, and he shuffled home.
around 1:30, dinky called and asked if he could bring someone home. i told him sure, he could borrow my bedroom. then i asked if i knew them, and he said yeah... 'the tool'. that's what i call this person- they called me 'red thong girl' for three months, so, you know. i will definitely have to remember that i must change the sheets tommorow. ASAP.
so now it's 2:06 AM, and i am expecting a drunken roomate, a slightly less drunken friend who is gonna wanna talk for a while, and two hornballs who are gonna dance hard to the fuck and run tune in my bed.
like i said, weird thursday night.
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