WTF, who ate my brain and inserted a singing sasquatch in place?
These were the thoughts speeding through my head this morning. I'm not admitting to anything, but I might've been drinking some at the poker game last night. But I couldn't miss this math lesson, it was the first one of the semester so it had to be important. Right? No. Fucking wrong.
I woke up at daybreak just to sit in a class full of dimwits learning how to calculate value added tax. What the flying .. At first I thought I mistook my school for the one next door, where they teach people to walk and tie their shoes. I double checked and yes, I was in the one with "non-capable idiots enter here" written on the door. I politely asked the teacher if I could've been excused to do something more important with my time, like make a YouTube-clip of me farting the Super Mario Bros theme. The arithmetical manatee bluntly disagreed. I did my tie a noose round yer neck-impression and proceeded to lapse into a coma.
The old Saphap didn't exactly lighten my misfortune. I'd promised to drop by for a massive unloading of my mental burden, just to be met by a wall of impenetrable misfortune. It was a door really, but I'm being dramatic, so shut up and listen. I rang the door bell. Nothing happened. Rang it again and gave the man a call. Nothing. After about 15 minutes of no answers and standing in the rain, I gave up. Took a walk towards the train station. As Hollywoodlike as it gets, I was just entering the train, when Saphap called me back. He'd been in the fricken shower the whole time. I gave him a rundown on how you DO NOT leave a tired and hungry friend standing in the rain while your massaging your roehmy in the shower. I had to forgive him quickly enough, as no one was interested in my whine, and I got a glass of Coca Cola for my trouble.
I was rescued from the hellhole they call Kilo by the equally tired, but quite likely more grouchy, Ladybird. I'm sure she only wanted an opinion on her recent furniture acquirements, but after my day, I couldn't help feeling damn grateful for the ride.
Still, it all ended with one of those moments that you hope would last a bit longer than they do.
So it wasn't all crap.
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Tuna 1613
"And I don't want to read about how horrible I am in your blog tomorrow," she said. So I made a point not to focus on her horribleness in this entry.
Guitar Hero II should be a mandatory purchase for every household with a television.
Ice Queen had her hands full with a house full of religious people, when Zoidberg and I strolled in. We'd had this huge analysis type conversation going on regarding relationships, what makes people tick and how to be in charge of different kinds of situations. His devotion to the subject was admirable. Then again, he had been practicing on real live subjects for years, so it should be only logical. The debate brought nothing but the usual conclusion, where relationships are effectively quite simple. Problems arrive only when women begin to think of complications. It's then up to the men to keep things nicely in control. You'll find me safely tucked into my flak suit in case a woman reads this.
Seriously though, talking about that sort of things made me realize how much people advance mentally in their 20s. And indeed, how retarded people under 20 most often are. No denying it, 5 years ago I was as retarded as the next bloke. Thank goodness, that nowadays I've compensated for my shortcomings by being better than anyone else.
I've had this problem the last few days where I don't quite like myself as much as I should. Now that doesn't have anything to do with me not being my normal perfect self, I've just been having trouble finding anything decent to respect myself for. Poker's been running at +-0 for something like two weeks now, and it's directly related to this rock bottom of mental achievement. As a side note, I hope poker isn't the CAUSE of my state of mind, I don't like the idea of taking it so seriously as to cause a depressive state. Also the weather here in Finland has turned grey again. I haven't seen the sun for just about four days now. That's bound to have some effect.
I hate the fall. It always reminds me of stuff I've yet to accomplish and things I've taken so horribly long to accomplish. Sarasvuo says to suck it up, it's not getting any better. Just get to work and the rest will see to itself. That fucking hippie.
The words you'll find written on the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in big, friendly letters, I might add, are DON'T PANIC.
Guitar Hero II should be a mandatory purchase for every household with a television.
Ice Queen had her hands full with a house full of religious people, when Zoidberg and I strolled in. We'd had this huge analysis type conversation going on regarding relationships, what makes people tick and how to be in charge of different kinds of situations. His devotion to the subject was admirable. Then again, he had been practicing on real live subjects for years, so it should be only logical. The debate brought nothing but the usual conclusion, where relationships are effectively quite simple. Problems arrive only when women begin to think of complications. It's then up to the men to keep things nicely in control. You'll find me safely tucked into my flak suit in case a woman reads this.
Seriously though, talking about that sort of things made me realize how much people advance mentally in their 20s. And indeed, how retarded people under 20 most often are. No denying it, 5 years ago I was as retarded as the next bloke. Thank goodness, that nowadays I've compensated for my shortcomings by being better than anyone else.
I've had this problem the last few days where I don't quite like myself as much as I should. Now that doesn't have anything to do with me not being my normal perfect self, I've just been having trouble finding anything decent to respect myself for. Poker's been running at +-0 for something like two weeks now, and it's directly related to this rock bottom of mental achievement. As a side note, I hope poker isn't the CAUSE of my state of mind, I don't like the idea of taking it so seriously as to cause a depressive state. Also the weather here in Finland has turned grey again. I haven't seen the sun for just about four days now. That's bound to have some effect.
I hate the fall. It always reminds me of stuff I've yet to accomplish and things I've taken so horribly long to accomplish. Sarasvuo says to suck it up, it's not getting any better. Just get to work and the rest will see to itself. That fucking hippie.
The words you'll find written on the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in big, friendly letters, I might add, are DON'T PANIC.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Women and the resulting parenthood
Fact of the day: Finnish people, on average, earn about 2500e a month. And they're fine with that. What a load of bollocks, wasting your life on an 8-16 job with minimum wage. Honestly, even the mere thought gives me the desire to leap from some 66th story window. And excuse me for not saying hello if you do catch me at that particular time: I'll have other things on my mind. The pavement, for instance.
Caught a girl's phone number at my work training this week. Which is kinda cool. And I haven't even filled my head with multiple scenarios of rejection. Indeed, my self confidence has never been greater. No sirree you won't be finding me admitting anything else.
Getting a girl's phone number made me appear somewhat a huge playah in some peoples' eyes. Which I obviously am. Women collapse in ecstasy in a wonderfully chaotic manner to my left and right. As a matter of fact, for sheer efficiency, I have a habit of moving about with my roehmy hanging outside my pants. I sometimes shag five or six times just on the way to the bus stop.
A customer, by definition, is someone involved in a financial interaction process. I don't think it would be unfair to add "a complete and utter idiot" to that description. I believe it is in the human nature to, while being serviced, take advantage of the slight upper hand created by the situation. Some people, thank goodness, don't mind this psychological advantage, while others take the opportunity to turn to complete assholes. Categorizing both of these groups into one collective term, customer, is just too generous.
Speaking of assholes, check out what just popped into my cell phone. A text message from the head of the family. Now, I'm not gonna whine about my parents like some unhappy teenager, so bear with me. The elders are on vacation far far away from here. We've agreed with the syster and bro to use the family's cars as we all see fit. And the French bread thing is sitting in my parking lot, waiting to get the elders from the airport as they return from their precious holiday.
So. As it seems, my father figure, although having no idea of what's going on back home, has decided to stir the peace. I've apparently taken the car without permission. And, as if that would amount to a shit's worth of help, this half-kobold has the audacity to send me a text message about this matter. Perhaps ring me up so this matter would be resolved? No. Ask my siblings to call me if they had a problem? No. Just decided to fucking ruin my evening by sending this purposeless text.
Sure, I can take the car to sit outside the parents' house. And it'll bloody well sit there while they're waiting to be picked up from the airport.
Caught a girl's phone number at my work training this week. Which is kinda cool. And I haven't even filled my head with multiple scenarios of rejection. Indeed, my self confidence has never been greater. No sirree you won't be finding me admitting anything else.
Getting a girl's phone number made me appear somewhat a huge playah in some peoples' eyes. Which I obviously am. Women collapse in ecstasy in a wonderfully chaotic manner to my left and right. As a matter of fact, for sheer efficiency, I have a habit of moving about with my roehmy hanging outside my pants. I sometimes shag five or six times just on the way to the bus stop.
A customer, by definition, is someone involved in a financial interaction process. I don't think it would be unfair to add "a complete and utter idiot" to that description. I believe it is in the human nature to, while being serviced, take advantage of the slight upper hand created by the situation. Some people, thank goodness, don't mind this psychological advantage, while others take the opportunity to turn to complete assholes. Categorizing both of these groups into one collective term, customer, is just too generous.
Speaking of assholes, check out what just popped into my cell phone. A text message from the head of the family. Now, I'm not gonna whine about my parents like some unhappy teenager, so bear with me. The elders are on vacation far far away from here. We've agreed with the syster and bro to use the family's cars as we all see fit. And the French bread thing is sitting in my parking lot, waiting to get the elders from the airport as they return from their precious holiday.
So. As it seems, my father figure, although having no idea of what's going on back home, has decided to stir the peace. I've apparently taken the car without permission. And, as if that would amount to a shit's worth of help, this half-kobold has the audacity to send me a text message about this matter. Perhaps ring me up so this matter would be resolved? No. Ask my siblings to call me if they had a problem? No. Just decided to fucking ruin my evening by sending this purposeless text.
Sure, I can take the car to sit outside the parents' house. And it'll bloody well sit there while they're waiting to be picked up from the airport.
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Snap.
I take myself as a patient bloke. I mean, as a taxi driver and poker player, I'd have to be. Most people don't have to swallow the kind of shit I see in one taxi shift during their whole lives. That, added to a lifetime of fighting with elders, gives you a somewhat unique perspective on patience.
But I have my moments. And I usually wreak major collateral damage when I do.
Here I had this deal cooked up, where I'd have the car for the weekend in exchange for a ride there and back. I mean sure, sounds like a fair deal. Then of course, the following evening, I was at the helm. With, amongst others, the captain sitting in the cabin. The captain drinking with me driving. I'd seen it before, and the possible results gave me shivers.
The plan was to play poker at the angry bloke from Pikebay and then move on to another party. Poker was cool, although the guys were playing at penny stakes, so I didn't really have it in me to take things seriously. The guys then continued on to Lost and Found, supposedly to find a woman for the night. Dunno what came of that. People were surprised at my decision not to steer towards Hell sinki, and even more surprised when the regular "what, dontcha want pussy" rants didn't change my mind. I wanted to go talk bullshit with Mikkeli-Mike. Haddock, quite saturated with Viru Valge at this point, decided to come with me.
Although he repeatedly told me it'd be ok for him to come along, I should've known at this stage to drop him off at the captains' lounge. But no, being the sympathetic humble type of guy, I didn't want him to miss the party. My sanity was really taken to the test, with Haddock shouting about free parking spots in one ear and the Ladybird on the phone for the third time, reminding me to be at the harbour the following morning, while at the same time gruesomely haunted by this nasty image of what might be, if Haddock threw a scene at the party. So I was a bit, for lack of a better word, tense, at that precise moment.
As you might have guessed, the plot thickened, up to where I was the one who brought this half wasted hairy man talking dirty to guests. The hostess asked me to do something about it. As if he was my responsibility. But since no one else was doing anything and I was half responsible for a scuffle almost starting between Haddock and the host, I made my move. After a bit (now I say a bit, when I'm actually crowbaring the guy) of coaxing, I got the captain home. No thank you, no nothing. I suddenly realized what the guy from Falling Down felt like in the morning traffic. It was as if this huge rubber band was tightened to its limit of elasticity and reach its point of critical mass.
Mr. Sarasvuo has said that your own thoughts are poison. You should not listen to your own thoughts and only fill your head with other peoples' empirically proven to be wise thoughts. At that point, my thoughts told me that I'm a worthless, untrustworthy doormat. The type you don't actually care about until you need a ride. Snap.
I must've hit something like 160 kph on that highway.
Thank goodness I had the party to go back to. Could've resulted in something nasty if I'd stayed on that road. Not a crash or anything, I'm not stupid. But a speeding ticket in the least. I kind of opened up to Mikkeli-Mike about my thoughts that night. Too bad he also had a rant going, about women. That conversation skewed the focus of my anger and frustration onto someone not entirely responsible: the little woman who had repeatedly tried to verify that I'd keep my promise of picking her up the following morning.
Indeed, I'm still trying to divulge this idea of me not being perfect.
But I have my moments. And I usually wreak major collateral damage when I do.
Here I had this deal cooked up, where I'd have the car for the weekend in exchange for a ride there and back. I mean sure, sounds like a fair deal. Then of course, the following evening, I was at the helm. With, amongst others, the captain sitting in the cabin. The captain drinking with me driving. I'd seen it before, and the possible results gave me shivers.
The plan was to play poker at the angry bloke from Pikebay and then move on to another party. Poker was cool, although the guys were playing at penny stakes, so I didn't really have it in me to take things seriously. The guys then continued on to Lost and Found, supposedly to find a woman for the night. Dunno what came of that. People were surprised at my decision not to steer towards Hell sinki, and even more surprised when the regular "what, dontcha want pussy" rants didn't change my mind. I wanted to go talk bullshit with Mikkeli-Mike. Haddock, quite saturated with Viru Valge at this point, decided to come with me.
Although he repeatedly told me it'd be ok for him to come along, I should've known at this stage to drop him off at the captains' lounge. But no, being the sympathetic humble type of guy, I didn't want him to miss the party. My sanity was really taken to the test, with Haddock shouting about free parking spots in one ear and the Ladybird on the phone for the third time, reminding me to be at the harbour the following morning, while at the same time gruesomely haunted by this nasty image of what might be, if Haddock threw a scene at the party. So I was a bit, for lack of a better word, tense, at that precise moment.
As you might have guessed, the plot thickened, up to where I was the one who brought this half wasted hairy man talking dirty to guests. The hostess asked me to do something about it. As if he was my responsibility. But since no one else was doing anything and I was half responsible for a scuffle almost starting between Haddock and the host, I made my move. After a bit (now I say a bit, when I'm actually crowbaring the guy) of coaxing, I got the captain home. No thank you, no nothing. I suddenly realized what the guy from Falling Down felt like in the morning traffic. It was as if this huge rubber band was tightened to its limit of elasticity and reach its point of critical mass.
Mr. Sarasvuo has said that your own thoughts are poison. You should not listen to your own thoughts and only fill your head with other peoples' empirically proven to be wise thoughts. At that point, my thoughts told me that I'm a worthless, untrustworthy doormat. The type you don't actually care about until you need a ride. Snap.
I must've hit something like 160 kph on that highway.
Thank goodness I had the party to go back to. Could've resulted in something nasty if I'd stayed on that road. Not a crash or anything, I'm not stupid. But a speeding ticket in the least. I kind of opened up to Mikkeli-Mike about my thoughts that night. Too bad he also had a rant going, about women. That conversation skewed the focus of my anger and frustration onto someone not entirely responsible: the little woman who had repeatedly tried to verify that I'd keep my promise of picking her up the following morning.
Indeed, I'm still trying to divulge this idea of me not being perfect.
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Headbanging
I read people. It comes naturally to me, as I've spent (too much) time trying to get into peoples' heads at the poker table. These days I've been alarmingly accurate in my reads. Nothing wrong with being right at the tables, but sometimes being too right in the real world catches you off guard.
I'll refrain from commenting on the truthfullness of this next story. Not to say that it wouldn't be true. Just mentioning this, so you'll all be confused at why I'm emphasizing the possibility of this all being made up.
Right. So you meet.. uhh someone. At first glance you already start taking mental notes on their appearance, posture, and overall presence. As you exchange first words, you create an image of where they're from, what their ambitions are and how they'll react to certain .. stimulants. Coming from me, that basically means how easily I can piss them off, and how they'll react to being pissed off. After a while (30 minutes or so) you've formed a basic image of the person. You know what personality group they fit into, what their opinion is on stuff and you can even hypothesize what lead to them being like they are.
So I got to this point on analyzing. I made a few subconscious notes on the person's past, figured it must've been a bit .. grim. You know, the kind that you write heavy metal songs about. I figured the shy appearance was a mixture of self-defence and not trusting me too much. Then I continued on to presume that not trusting me properly was a result of some hefty trust abuse in the past. And, usually having a problem with quiet (I used the word shy here, but that's not necessarily accurate) people, as I find them untrustworthy and spineless, this one seemed different. It wasn't the same kind of shyness. Well, I tend not to take my head too seriously, as I might as well be exaggerating my observations unintentionally.
Truth is hard though, left me kinda stumped to learn that I was more right than I expected to be. This person probably reads this blog as well, so I'll shut up about this subject before I reveal something embarrassing.
Efficient uses of time
I rule. Grandma (not the spare wheel) hired me to clean up the Audi and pick up an older gentleman at the Turku harbour. As is my habit, I wasn't exactly on schedule regarding the car cleaning, so I had to catch up on time during the trip. I didn't even floor it and the 2.0TDI took 1h 25 minutes from my house to Turku. This half-reckless driving and breaking speedlimits got me there an hour early so I sat around and waited. I love being uselessly quick.
--Netpoker shows $250 after recent withdrawal of $350--
I'll refrain from commenting on the truthfullness of this next story. Not to say that it wouldn't be true. Just mentioning this, so you'll all be confused at why I'm emphasizing the possibility of this all being made up.
Right. So you meet.. uhh someone. At first glance you already start taking mental notes on their appearance, posture, and overall presence. As you exchange first words, you create an image of where they're from, what their ambitions are and how they'll react to certain .. stimulants. Coming from me, that basically means how easily I can piss them off, and how they'll react to being pissed off. After a while (30 minutes or so) you've formed a basic image of the person. You know what personality group they fit into, what their opinion is on stuff and you can even hypothesize what lead to them being like they are.
So I got to this point on analyzing. I made a few subconscious notes on the person's past, figured it must've been a bit .. grim. You know, the kind that you write heavy metal songs about. I figured the shy appearance was a mixture of self-defence and not trusting me too much. Then I continued on to presume that not trusting me properly was a result of some hefty trust abuse in the past. And, usually having a problem with quiet (I used the word shy here, but that's not necessarily accurate) people, as I find them untrustworthy and spineless, this one seemed different. It wasn't the same kind of shyness. Well, I tend not to take my head too seriously, as I might as well be exaggerating my observations unintentionally.
Truth is hard though, left me kinda stumped to learn that I was more right than I expected to be. This person probably reads this blog as well, so I'll shut up about this subject before I reveal something embarrassing.
Efficient uses of time
I rule. Grandma (not the spare wheel) hired me to clean up the Audi and pick up an older gentleman at the Turku harbour. As is my habit, I wasn't exactly on schedule regarding the car cleaning, so I had to catch up on time during the trip. I didn't even floor it and the 2.0TDI took 1h 25 minutes from my house to Turku. This half-reckless driving and breaking speedlimits got me there an hour early so I sat around and waited. I love being uselessly quick.
--Netpoker shows $250 after recent withdrawal of $350--
Friday, 12 October 2007
Family and friends (aww)
This girl at school didn't know how to change a fluorescent lamp. We made a big joke about it, being master gurus of everything. I mean, how hard can it be? (Mr. Clarkson) Well. I also happen to have a broken halogen light bulb on my ceiling rack. It's one of those tiny 12V ones, where they're damn bright and damn small. So I bought myself a replacement and tried installing it. Tough luck, the one I bought was too big. Back to the store for a second attempt then. Sure, got myself the right one this time. Sure, it would've fit in the socket just fine. Is the bulb sitting in 3 pieces on my table right now? Sure it is.
So how damn hard is it to change a lamp? I'm telling you, it's a real mindfucker.
Today I visited my spare grandma. Not spare as in the empty tyre in your boot-kind of spare, but the type where you just recently find out about this grandma even existing. Not to even mention the fact that the person who thought was your grandma actually isn't your grandma. Gotta love this kind of shit, makes you feel like you're part of a Bold & Beautiful rerun. And to hide this from the kids, whom, at least according to our driver's licenses, should be considered grown ups? Seems like everyone's so goddamn proud of their heritage, when in fact the only thing done properly is covering up the various messes people have left behind.
"They're your family and you should show some respect" I hear you scream in silence. Sure, they're my family, and there should be a lot to show respect for. And yup, there are a couple of things to mention. I respect the fact that I've seen how twisted inside someone can get, and thus taught myself how to avoid becoming something similar.
Anyway, the spare grandma did what grannys tend to do, and I got a fridge-full of stuff to eat. Which is nice. Also I got to see my sister for a change, who, in these recent years, has indeed shown evidence of being human. Coming from a family of half-kobolds, that's quite an achievement.
Right, enough whining. Mr. Tekken bought himself a Beamer. Just thought I'd slip that in to lighten the mood a bit. And I feel invincible in poker again. I'm outplaying people 90% of the time. Right now I believe I'm a winning player at my level.
--Net poker shows $660--
So how damn hard is it to change a lamp? I'm telling you, it's a real mindfucker.
Today I visited my spare grandma. Not spare as in the empty tyre in your boot-kind of spare, but the type where you just recently find out about this grandma even existing. Not to even mention the fact that the person who thought was your grandma actually isn't your grandma. Gotta love this kind of shit, makes you feel like you're part of a Bold & Beautiful rerun. And to hide this from the kids, whom, at least according to our driver's licenses, should be considered grown ups? Seems like everyone's so goddamn proud of their heritage, when in fact the only thing done properly is covering up the various messes people have left behind.
"They're your family and you should show some respect" I hear you scream in silence. Sure, they're my family, and there should be a lot to show respect for. And yup, there are a couple of things to mention. I respect the fact that I've seen how twisted inside someone can get, and thus taught myself how to avoid becoming something similar.
Anyway, the spare grandma did what grannys tend to do, and I got a fridge-full of stuff to eat. Which is nice. Also I got to see my sister for a change, who, in these recent years, has indeed shown evidence of being human. Coming from a family of half-kobolds, that's quite an achievement.
Right, enough whining. Mr. Tekken bought himself a Beamer. Just thought I'd slip that in to lighten the mood a bit. And I feel invincible in poker again. I'm outplaying people 90% of the time. Right now I believe I'm a winning player at my level.
--Net poker shows $660--
Monday, 8 October 2007
Kill Bill
I don't like public transport. I don't like the fact that I have to pay over 40 euro a month just to haul my ass to Helsinki and back everyday. I don't like sitting in a bus that might as well serve as a can of sardines, with a baby crying it's lungs out and some manatee of a mother trying to fit on the seat next to mine.
Besides, it poured from the behind of Esteri today.
Nothing really up, just poker and school mostly. Zoidberg told me to write about an interesting cab fare for a change. So here's a few stories from my taxiing days. Pardon me for the shady details, it's been a while.
Battery - keeps you going
So there I was, at about 6 am, picking up my first fare from Lauttasaari. It was some lady trying to get to an early morning shift. I had my Battery next to me, trying desperately to keep me awake in those morning hours. I hate morning shifts. I had probably slept for 4 hours or something, as is my habit. So I've developed quite a high tolerance for Battery and other energy drinks. Anyway. I'm a good driver. I'm polite and I get people to their destinations rapidly and comfortably. As I did with this lady. Talked a bit about the weather and news of the day. And took a sip of my beloved Battery.
She said "How can you drink that shit? That really messes up your stomach, aren't you any ashamed? You really should get away from that habit."
WTF, I thought. Having the audacity to comment on a nasty habit of someone you hardly know is rude enough, but also stupid. If this lady was in a hurry, wasn't it the last mistake she could make to piss off the cab driver? I thought about giving her a lecture about private business and kicking her out, but I kept my mouth shut, as the diplomatic fellow that I am. What a twat.
Large men with beards and tattoos dressed in leather
So you see three huge guys standing at the taxi stop. I'm talking ZZ-Top-beards, brass knuckles, leather boots, scarfs.. The first reaction would be to press hard on the gas pedal and look for a better gig. But I had my adventure-hat on, and I didn't see any immediate danger in taking these blokes in. So my C-class was filled with raw heavy metal listening bloke-material. I didn't want to piss these guys off, so I kinda stayed quiet and turned the radio up, like they asked. After throwing a few jokes back and forth I realized we were much of the same type of guy. Except of course they were huge and I'm not, but heavy metal listeners anyway. By the time we got to Herttoniemi, they wanted to go through McDonalds. They even bought me a meal. What do we learn from this? The most sane people you see in town are either heavy metal-listeners or musicians. Preferably both.
Thar be shark infested waters, aye
We had our regular poker game at Spacestreet again. The old gang was there, guest starring Kilo, Stara and the small blind man. The old AK-master, Sammy Raty, Mr. Savo and I are becoming quite skilled at this silly game. And I'm not talking about the "Wow you can do chip tricks"-good, I'm talking about real skill. We don't play for a lot of money in that game, but the learning experience is priceless. It's a shame the Helsinki Grand Casino is the only place in Finland where poker games are officially allowed, live poker rules.
Movie nights at the Ladybird's
Choosing American History X to watch with a girl is silly. First of all, the movie is damn good. But second of all, it gets you thinking. And if you're thinking, you're not exactly making stupid jokes and chatting about stuff while or after watching, are you?
Kill Bill is more like it, but it also has this sentence interrupting-effect with all the body parts and blood flying.
So I asked her out for a pool game. Which seemed like a cool idea.
--Net poker says $440--
Besides, it poured from the behind of Esteri today.
Nothing really up, just poker and school mostly. Zoidberg told me to write about an interesting cab fare for a change. So here's a few stories from my taxiing days. Pardon me for the shady details, it's been a while.
Battery - keeps you going
So there I was, at about 6 am, picking up my first fare from Lauttasaari. It was some lady trying to get to an early morning shift. I had my Battery next to me, trying desperately to keep me awake in those morning hours. I hate morning shifts. I had probably slept for 4 hours or something, as is my habit. So I've developed quite a high tolerance for Battery and other energy drinks. Anyway. I'm a good driver. I'm polite and I get people to their destinations rapidly and comfortably. As I did with this lady. Talked a bit about the weather and news of the day. And took a sip of my beloved Battery.
She said "How can you drink that shit? That really messes up your stomach, aren't you any ashamed? You really should get away from that habit."
WTF, I thought. Having the audacity to comment on a nasty habit of someone you hardly know is rude enough, but also stupid. If this lady was in a hurry, wasn't it the last mistake she could make to piss off the cab driver? I thought about giving her a lecture about private business and kicking her out, but I kept my mouth shut, as the diplomatic fellow that I am. What a twat.
Large men with beards and tattoos dressed in leather
So you see three huge guys standing at the taxi stop. I'm talking ZZ-Top-beards, brass knuckles, leather boots, scarfs.. The first reaction would be to press hard on the gas pedal and look for a better gig. But I had my adventure-hat on, and I didn't see any immediate danger in taking these blokes in. So my C-class was filled with raw heavy metal listening bloke-material. I didn't want to piss these guys off, so I kinda stayed quiet and turned the radio up, like they asked. After throwing a few jokes back and forth I realized we were much of the same type of guy. Except of course they were huge and I'm not, but heavy metal listeners anyway. By the time we got to Herttoniemi, they wanted to go through McDonalds. They even bought me a meal. What do we learn from this? The most sane people you see in town are either heavy metal-listeners or musicians. Preferably both.
Thar be shark infested waters, aye
We had our regular poker game at Spacestreet again. The old gang was there, guest starring Kilo, Stara and the small blind man. The old AK-master, Sammy Raty, Mr. Savo and I are becoming quite skilled at this silly game. And I'm not talking about the "Wow you can do chip tricks"-good, I'm talking about real skill. We don't play for a lot of money in that game, but the learning experience is priceless. It's a shame the Helsinki Grand Casino is the only place in Finland where poker games are officially allowed, live poker rules.
Movie nights at the Ladybird's
Choosing American History X to watch with a girl is silly. First of all, the movie is damn good. But second of all, it gets you thinking. And if you're thinking, you're not exactly making stupid jokes and chatting about stuff while or after watching, are you?
Kill Bill is more like it, but it also has this sentence interrupting-effect with all the body parts and blood flying.
So I asked her out for a pool game. Which seemed like a cool idea.
--Net poker says $440--
Monday, 1 October 2007
O-liver
This student thing is tough for the liver.
After the dark eternal night on Friday, I figured I'd need new records. So off to the record shop. I thought Ms. Ladybird (better, eh?) might also be interested in browsing for music. Incidentally, the previous night had been even rougher for her hangover-wise, so I took the helm of the coughing Astra. Had a bit of an epic fail-moment arriving at the shop. Or where the shop should've been. They'd replaced it with some sorta Playstation-depot. Well. It's either www.play.com, or Keltainen Jäänsärkijä for my cds from now on.
BTW, The Office is cool. A British office-scenario sitcom with that awkward "eh"-type of comedy.
Then I remembered str33n's housewarming party. So I dragged myself to Hesa for the people of Turku. Again. Sitting in that bus I realized I was quite pissed off. A natural state of mind for me, but this was different. It's that sensation of your fuel gauge showing empty, or when you're knocked out of a tournament in the first hand. I hadn't eaten for a day and a half. Which meant a slight course correction towards the nearest market. I'll make an excellent grumpy old fart someday.
I ran into Salmon. This is one of my poker player-acquaintances, although I'd rather not know him because of the game. I often get asked if I get the desire to bluff or gamble my money away at a poker table. The people are always equally sceptical and amazed at my answer: I only put my money in when the odds are in my favor. Salmon has a bad habit of gambling. At poker and otherwise. And so do most of the fishes I get my money from. He was close to a burnout earlier, and it was a relief to see him doing ok. The hardest part of this game is seeing what it does to some people.
So on my way to str33n's I saw an empty condom package with two people passed out (?) beside it. I saw a guy trying to stop a cable car with his bare hands. I saw 40 metre queues for the crappiest night clubs. I saw police heading for their night shift. Damned, I felt sorry for those guys, thinking of all the crap they'd be seeing that night. Ultimate respect for policemen. Also, I had a rough time getting into str33n's yard, since some idiot had backed up his van so as to block the route.
I got to know a lot of people better, which is cool. First impressions aren't always as accurate as you might want them to be. YouTube also made an important appearance, helping me to spread out my progressive rock-propaganda, but also getting to know new stuff like Mars Volta. There also was this girl who I tried to piss off, as is my habit. But what she did was not get pissed off, but she screwed around right back at me. So we bullied each other for a while, which was .. fun.
I caught a lucky ride home when the Cruise Ship Ladybird passed downtown. Drinks on that ship are quite strong, I must say. And having to push start the damn thing outside McDonald's isn't exactly customer care.
As for the rest of the weekend, well. This student thing is tough for the liver.
After the dark eternal night on Friday, I figured I'd need new records. So off to the record shop. I thought Ms. Ladybird (better, eh?) might also be interested in browsing for music. Incidentally, the previous night had been even rougher for her hangover-wise, so I took the helm of the coughing Astra. Had a bit of an epic fail-moment arriving at the shop. Or where the shop should've been. They'd replaced it with some sorta Playstation-depot. Well. It's either www.play.com, or Keltainen Jäänsärkijä for my cds from now on.
BTW, The Office is cool. A British office-scenario sitcom with that awkward "eh"-type of comedy.
Then I remembered str33n's housewarming party. So I dragged myself to Hesa for the people of Turku. Again. Sitting in that bus I realized I was quite pissed off. A natural state of mind for me, but this was different. It's that sensation of your fuel gauge showing empty, or when you're knocked out of a tournament in the first hand. I hadn't eaten for a day and a half. Which meant a slight course correction towards the nearest market. I'll make an excellent grumpy old fart someday.
I ran into Salmon. This is one of my poker player-acquaintances, although I'd rather not know him because of the game. I often get asked if I get the desire to bluff or gamble my money away at a poker table. The people are always equally sceptical and amazed at my answer: I only put my money in when the odds are in my favor. Salmon has a bad habit of gambling. At poker and otherwise. And so do most of the fishes I get my money from. He was close to a burnout earlier, and it was a relief to see him doing ok. The hardest part of this game is seeing what it does to some people.
So on my way to str33n's I saw an empty condom package with two people passed out (?) beside it. I saw a guy trying to stop a cable car with his bare hands. I saw 40 metre queues for the crappiest night clubs. I saw police heading for their night shift. Damned, I felt sorry for those guys, thinking of all the crap they'd be seeing that night. Ultimate respect for policemen. Also, I had a rough time getting into str33n's yard, since some idiot had backed up his van so as to block the route.
I got to know a lot of people better, which is cool. First impressions aren't always as accurate as you might want them to be. YouTube also made an important appearance, helping me to spread out my progressive rock-propaganda, but also getting to know new stuff like Mars Volta. There also was this girl who I tried to piss off, as is my habit. But what she did was not get pissed off, but she screwed around right back at me. So we bullied each other for a while, which was .. fun.
I caught a lucky ride home when the Cruise Ship Ladybird passed downtown. Drinks on that ship are quite strong, I must say. And having to push start the damn thing outside McDonald's isn't exactly customer care.
As for the rest of the weekend, well. This student thing is tough for the liver.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
