So we just finished off wedding season (for the year, not our lives...the wedding season of our liveswill continue for several years, more if Danielle continues to make friends that are younger than her) with a 5 day trip to Boston (and New Hampshire) for another college friend's official not tying shindig. The day trip to see Danielle's aunt and uncle (even though she emailed them the wrong date so they weren't able to take off from work) in Bath, NH? Great. The wedding itself, including everything from the rehearsal through the after party? Wonderful. I will comment that there is only so much time one can spend, comfortable, watching all of one's old drinking buddies drink while not drinking one's self before one starts to get rather annoyed, but that is neither here nor there. The travel days to get there and back? Meh, not so great but watchagonnadoyouknow? Since arriving back here, however, I have been once again set afrenzy by the various amazing and idiotic pieces of my life, and without having any better way to do it, I'll work backwards from just now through the 20 hours I just played (out of 30) and try not to forget anything. Curiously I feel absolutely fine physically, even though the rage in my brain is threatening to literally manifest into physical form, split through my skull, and go on a murderous rampage.
First thing's first....That picture actually happened, just tonight. I was driving home from the bike (more on those assholes later) and everything looked fine and dandy. As you can see, it was 7:44pm. That's usually pretty much fine, but I checked anyway and sure enough all four legs of the 710/105/605/91 rectangle were cleared for takeoff. But then...well, you can see what happened. I was just about ready to shit myself, honestly. Why was I even at the bike, you ask? Well, I had to cash out my points from last month. You get until the 15th of the month, and I haven't been there yet and at this point I don't think I'll be going there at all, so after my 60 whale quit I decided to head over and just get 'er done. So I show up and the game but boy is it shitty (all four winning professional props, three customers) and am told....I can't cash out. You see, the system apparently went down and it's not showing me having ANY points from last month. They owe me something like $900, and I just know they're going to try to fuck me out of them. Like, I just know it. Not only that, but the dude kept me there for almost 20 minutes before he could even confirm they'd extend the deadline for me (you better believe you're extending it you asshole). So now I have to go back there at some point and just JFC what kind of second rate ass clown show are you guys running over there? I mean really.
OK so before that what did we have....there was the constant losing. Yeah, I could deal without that honestly. People "free carding" me (where by "free card" I mean "three betting in position only to get four bet by me holding top pair no kicker") with gut shots and hitting them 104% of the time. Kim just snapping off my aces like it's her job (and in fairness it sort of is I guess). It's just getting so old, I can't get any traction. The last two days I think I'm up like $900 (curiously the same amount the bike is in the process of stealing from me), but every day there is that two or three hour stretch where 40 bets just get blasted into orbit and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I actually was at commerce for over 12 hours today, showing up at 6:40am (couldn't beat traffic) after sleeping for six hours (I still feel great...I'm quitting coffee for the 3rd time and so far it's been amazing) while the 1/2 whale played through the night. You see, I couldn't get in yesterday because it was my turn to get the dogs after we returned from the wedding, but I had to go call the way to Danielle's dad's house instead of...you know, none of that matters. I knew the whale was coming but I couldn't get there until 12:30 (he arrived at 12:45) so I was shut out for six hours. Seems reasonable. At 10:30 I decided to quit and come back early, which worked out swimmingly as the game had two seats when I arrived in the morning. But that's a big mucketty muck in and of itself, as I've gotten into the nasty habit of loaning this guy money, which is just idiotic because well it just is. I don't get enough out of it and I just shouldn't do it. He always gets himself just mercilessly buried, so it always goes deeper than you want it to and it always takes him longer to pay you back than you want it to because he's just so under it and owes so many people so much and Commerce won't deposit cashier's checks for me anymore because the first time I did this they figured out he was involved and apparently they won't cash any of his checks and well it's just a world class CF. I'm stopping all that nonsense, which should be a pretty big load off my mind, but the next time I'm in a game with him and he's busto and asks me to borrow (or literally just reaches into my stack) it's going to pretty tough to say no. But that's exactly what I'm going to do. It's gonna be...well...hilarious.
There are more things that have pissed me off. There was the woman (the same one who once basically stole $2000 from me, then didn't return my calls for two weeks, whom I had to chase to the parking lot to try and get paid) screeching "Mother BEEEEEE!" again and again at the table. That really set me off; normally I could just take that insanity in stride, swallow it up and hide it way way down in the ever darkening inner-most reaches of my soul, but after a mere three refrains I had to snap "We understand" sarcastically back at her. Maybe it was because she'd tried to look at my cards mid-hand a few minutes earlier. Maybe it's because she's a horrible and awful person. Maybe it was the attempted theft. I dunno.... She said it two more times...that was a nice touch. There was the free way ramp closure at 12:15am as we were trying to get home from LAX. Seriously. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not get home, fuck you. I think that's actually what the sign said, or maybe I was hallucinating since I'd been awake for 19 hours straight running on 5.5 hours of sleep. Either way, bumbling around surface streets in Garden Grove or wherever we were was just exactly the way I wanted to end that travel day, for sure. There was Peyton Manning and his god damned talented self looking all smug and shit as he pummeled my Steelers. I could rail on that game alone for a few paragraphs, but will leave it at "are you serious, these are the refs? 40 seconds on the clock with a timeout first and goal and you...spike it? Seriously? 33 seconds to run one the "pick six" play at the end of the game? Wow." I mean, they got out played, pretty badly. With Ryan Clark and Harrison maybe they had a shot, but without two pro bowl defensive starters Peyton is just going to shred you and guess what that's what happened. There was losing my fantasy game 104 to 102. Seriously, that was the score. 104 to 102. Even as I was driving home tonight listening to the radio I became upset at the sheer absurdity of something. The Whistle Song was playing and they were editing out every single curse word. Not just the seven words you can't say on TV....all of them. Hell? Blanked out. Damn? Blanked out. Now I'm all for trying to clean up the airwaves a little bit and maybe try and preserve the minds of our children for a few extra months, but the entire song is about blow jobs. Is it really important that kids hear "pull a ---- hamstring tryin' put it on ya" when the man is literally wrapping about getting his dick sucked for the entire tree fiddy? I mean, seriously people. No wonder everybody hates Americans; sometimes we are just a gigantic mob of morons.