On Narcissism and Self-love

blogger must die
it killed my post again
i hate you kenny

Poker Rage

The more homework I have to do, the more I want a TiVo, even though I know that would totally undermine my homework efforts, as Good TV would be available 24/7, whenever I want it, and I wouldn’t be able to get enough. My academic, social and hygienical lives would suffer as I sat glued to the screen, peanut-shaped clicker in hand, Thumbs-Upping things until my eyes glazed over.

I also want a new computer. My iBook is starting to show its age.

Now for the Main Event:

Last night I won $20 in poker, but not before realizing that I am a pissy little bitch when down, often scowling, yelling, drinking, disrobing, and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I usually make up for it by singing at full blast with the Best of Billy Joel that’s playing on the boombox behind me, but not before I shout “FUCK YOU!” at Jake in response to his comment that “to slow play something doesn’t mean you should deal the cards at a snail’s pace, come on”… Okay, so I was mad. Actually it’s probably the first time any of my friends had ever seen my temper — I am always so restrained, aren’t I? Yes, well, the Temper exists, and it basically comes out where I am either A) losing money in poker, or more generally, B) publicly failing at something I had claimed to be good at, and C) making a fool out of myself in the process. When I went all-in 10 minutes into the game with three Jacks, and was called by Ben, I thought I had it. He threw down his full house, Jacks and fours, and I threw down my trips, Jacks with a King kicker, and I was all, “Ooohhhhh! THAT’s how you do it!” Then in response to a round of “What are you talking about?”s from my friends, I realized that I hadn’t noticed his pair of fours. Dammit.

Borrowed $20 from my friend, re-upped, and spent the next hour sulking, until my tight playing brought me back to zero for the night. A little more tight-aggressive play, combined with some much-needed luck, and I came out on top — my spirits increasing in direct proportion to my pile of chips.

Yeah, I’ve got to work on my temper. It’s just a stressful time right now, PLUS I had given up a date to play poker with my boys who are only in town together once every couple YEARS… and I failed to appreciate it as the bonding time it was, instead harping on the piddly $20 I had idiotically thrown away. Heh. I’ve got to learn how to chill, yo!

Positively Biblical

Am I the only one who is concerned by the locusts making a comeback in the Holy Land? Aren’t locusts a plague? Combined with my friend Lee getting married today (I’m ushering in an hour), I am afraid the Armageddon may be upon us…

Yesterday my friends and I met up for one last lunch to celebrate Lee’s batchelorhood. Best line of the day goes to Jake, who told Lee upon seeing him, “Congratulations Lee! Your last day as a homosexual!”

I want to play poker with them tonight and take all their money.

OK, off to ush. You know, the funny thing is, if Ben Kepple (see links to right) hadn’t called to wake me up, I would have missed the wedding… seems there was a career-ending “AM/PM” mishap with the alarm clock. Many thanks to Ben for making the ushing possible.

Bastard, waking me up at 8. “I’M HITTING THE SNOOZE!” I growled into the phone. “Call me in ten minutes!”

Damn blogger! Damn it to hell!

I wrote a really good post about conservatism and my distrust of the Bush administration, and Blogger EVISCERATED IT upon my attempt to post it. Something about “scheduled maintenance” or something, but when I clicked the “back” button, my entire post was gone, banished into oblivion! Scheduled maintenance in the middle of a weekday?! What kind of dirty scheduling is that!!!

One good deed deserves another. Blogger, you have screwed with me for the last time. I challenge thee… to a duel!

Beautiful people piss me off

There was an Old Navy commercial today, a bunch of people singing, amusing song, good enough, but something was wrong. The dozen or so singers weren’t quite… normal. Their eyes too wide… their smile too bright… their faces too symmetrical… and everyone was way too thin.

I put everything together and realized that these singers were physically perfect, all of them. Twelve physically perfect people singing next to each other. Having sung in a number of choirs over the years, I can say with some certainty that people who sing in groups look kind of funny. You might get one or two beautiful people… but all of them? That’s like getting a royal flush every time! According to the laws of nature, a perfect looking choir should not physically be able to exist!

I know that television only shows pretty people, but it wasn’t until today that I figured out why everyone on TV is so hot. You see, actors across the spectrum of attractiveness audition for these roles. Ugly people generally don’t get them — unless they’re fantastic actors, which are not needed for commercials. All commercials need are people to smile and sell the product. So they only need pretty people. All the pretty people get called back, and then of those, only the prettiest people are chosen.

Voila. A beautiful choir.

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In other news, Hank on “King of the Hill” just took the same computer “are you racist” test that I took a few weeks ago! It’s where they flash good words and bad words, and white faces and black faces, and you have to hit keys that correspond… it’s kind of difficult to explain, but basically the test measures how long it takes you to hit the keys and, from that, determines how much of a preference we have for white faces.

Yep. Here’s the link. Click “Demonstration,” take the race test, and then let me know how you did!

Litigation is trial practice is performance

Or: All the World’s a Stage

I feel guilty that I haven’t updated in a while, and certain people (cough! cough! diana! cough!) are pestering me. So here, for your reading pleasure, is a bit of an e-mail I wrote earlier this year to my middle-school drama teacher. I had no idea where to find him, but I wanted to get back in touch, and Google is a master at those things. Unfortunately, my teacher’s name is “Dean Acheson” — yes, relative of former U.S. Secretary of State Dean Acheson — so it was pretty damn hard to winnow the results. But I did, because I am a Web God — and I got a response.

Dean asked me why I decided to “strike it poor as a lawyer” instead of going into a more creative, performance-oriented field. I thought about this for a moment, and then I began to wax philosophical on the similarities of law and acting:

Actually, part of the reason I enjoy law school so much is because there is a major performance aspect to it. My professors tell me that of all the students they’ve seen this year, I am the best at getting up in front of a judge and arguing my case, weaving in cases to support me. Apparently, I am a natural up there — good speaker, good eye contact, good stage presence. And the key: good timing. That’s VERY important, and it amazes me how many people have absolutely no skill in that area. You have to know when to pause, when to look up, when to hold back just a bit, and when to deliver a line with force. When to be confident and completely certain in what you’re saying, and when to back off and admit when the law is murky. When to be consoling and when to be dismissive. I believe my drama “training” (what little training I had) helped prepare me for this line of work.

To all the future James Lipton guests out there: take note.

I was flying, somewhere

I have a very vivid feeling of moving so fast that I almost glide, and then I do glide, and then I am virtually flying. It feels so real to me, and I remember experiencing this sensation before, but I can’t place it. Maybe it was in a dream, or a series of dreams — it had to be more than once, because I remember it happening more than once.

It’s right on the tip of my brain and every few minutes I get a glimpse of the memory, but then before I can hold onto it, it seeps back into my subconscious. This is like trying to hold water in an open hand. *sigh* I guess I just have to not think about it. Do my homework, focus on something else. Maybe it will pop into my head. Maybe I will experience it again and then remember to remember.

Was I running? Taking strides so long and feeling so weightless that soon enough my feet were barely touching the ground? And then they didn’t touch the ground, and I was soaring? And thinking to myself how amazing this was, because I thought people aren’t supposed to be able to fly. Wait until they see this!

I remember thinking that. And a muscle in my leg just spasmed as though my legs themselves remembered.

I’m almost there…