I played poker for the first time in months this weekend, and visited both the pokerstars and FTP sites to see if they even still existed.
I had a few doll in FTP, less than $30 IIRC, but enough to play some sngs for a bit of fun...but the software wouldn't load.
So I tried pokerstars...same problem. Turns out I needed to re-install the stars software, so did that and deposited 50 doll, and bust it all on a half dozen MTTS, including twice busting when my pockets AAs vs KKs got cracked on the flop by a dirty K, after getting em in pre.
Anyway, today it surprised me to see that FTP was actually some kind of 'ponzi scheme'.
Not sure what the aim will be yet, but was thinking a site where you could post the most interesting news of the day, kind of like what dealbreaker do for financial news, and see...
I'm going to bust soon again, that's a given, but I'm on a hell of a heater right now. I started with £100 in BF account, and with a mix of trading and luck got up to £370. I think subsequently bust due to a (admittedly short) run of dodgy bets, involving laying away teams in the Apertura, and betting on the Carling Cup.
So I re-deposited £50, and have now spun this up to over 500, including coming 4th in a short handed 22doll tourney on betfair, with 135 entrants.
Now, I've withdrawn some of that, but the problem is, if I have say 250 in my account, unless I'm risking at least half of that on a bet, it just doesn't excite me. What's the point in betting £20 to go from 250 to 270 if I win, or 230 if I lose etc.
So I've begun laying correct scores and stuff like that at 10s and all to make £25. I don't know why, but having all that on the line gives me a thrill. I've dodgy every bullet so far, but it won't last.
Anyway, Christmas and New Years came and went. Christmas spent at home, then spent a few days at my girlfriends place. For new years I went to the Hoxton Bar & Music Hall and it was quite lame to put it mildly. I had tried to get in here to no avail. Bar & Music Hall is quite wanky tbh, all it serves is weird Belgian beer like Vedett and Duvel. Vedett is just about drinkable, but Duvel is like drinking semen laced sewage. Don't ask me how I know what semen laced sewage tastes like.
Anyway, those days away made me realise the thing I miss most when I have to share a bed: the ability to let out a good beer fart. I was in bed on NYE after having drunk mostly Vedetts, and had some really intense trapped wind. I tried to let out a silent assassin, but just as I let go, a sound like an old man blowing his hooter rang around the room. So I just played it cool, pretended that never happened, and sneaked off to the toilet. But it's the same problem there, you can pretty much hear everything that goes on in the toilet across the whole flat, so I spent about 15 minutes in a drunken haze wondering how the hell I could let out that wind on the sly. . FFS. I just crept back to bed, the missus was sleeping, so I just let rip. She woke up instantly, and I just pretended to be asleep. Whatever. Anyway, such are the problems of shared bed.
Still trying to decide whether or not to back Arsenal at near evs tomorrow vs Man City, what does everyone think? I know would-be won't agree...
This England side is perfect to lay, too much inexperience, France need a win to lift confidence. England now 7s, going to wait a bit before covering myself. See how the game pans out.
Luxembourg still 0-0. 48mins.
Isn't Nasri a beautiful footballer? Not in a sexual way, although he does slightly resemble a thai lady boy. He could be the key to the next French generation. Actually, he will be the key, Gourcuff isn't up to scratch.
I can't believe I'm actually watching Lux vs Alg.
2030: Time to drink another London Pride, hoping the comfort of a few pints of plain will numb the pain of watching this 'football'.
2033: Nice to see England resort to playing that beautiful breed of football they call 'the English way'. 40 yard punt forward, Carroll nods down, Gerrard strikes over. Us Latin countries are eternally jealous of this style of football.
2034: Luxembourg have an attack. This is news worthy.
2036: One of the officials is sporting a fine tache for Movember. Either that or he's Russian, where Movember cometh not once a year, it cometh as part of the package.
2040: Algeria miss an easy chance. Cleared off the line. Sigh.
2042: Really enjoying the colour commentary from Andy Townshend in the England match. An exemplerary Irishman. 'We have to try and play down the flanks'. I think he's commentating on the Eire match, it's quite psychedelic listening to this.
2043: England now 10.0 to back, might cover soon.
2048: Mexican wave in the England match. Yeah, the fans are that bored.
2049: Half Time Boos in England match...
2053: Great save by Lux keeper...the wanker.
Portugal vs Spain set to start, might lay Spain...
2100: Not looking good in the Algeria game, 5 mins to go...
2102: Seriously bad miss by Algeria :(
2104: Why is Portugal playing in white? ffs, we're at home, we shouldn't be pandering to the Spaniards. grr.
2106: Laid Spain for £25 at 2.4
2107: Algeria finishes 0-0. Fail.
2112: Barca vs Real starts a couple weeks early. Busquets takes our Ronaldo, yellow card. A minute later, Ronaldo returns the favour, yellow.
2116: 2-0 France, no need to cover, England won't score 3.
2122: Looks like Ronaldo coming off injured, think I'll exit the bet if he does, we just don't have enough attacking potential without him.
2125: Just realised I'm missing The Apprentice. I mean the ITV pundits try their best, but nobody beats Alan Sugar for one-liners.
2126: Who do you guys reckon is the hottest on The Apprentice, the blonde (Stella I think) or that brunette with short hair? I'm going for the blonde, she looks kinkay.
2134: Massive miss by David Silva, all alone in the box, heads wide from the penalty spot. Hits the target, and thats a golo.
2140: OMG
ROnaldo with the greatest skill, chips Casillas, it's pretty much in, why does nani nod it in? Nani was offside...god. I think nani was onside anyway, and he was inside the goal too i think, that ball went in ffs. Ronaldo robbed of a true wonder goal.
2141: SPain clear one off the line! Crowd going crazy! But we still didnt score ffs
Still creaming myself over that goal by ronaldo that should have been
2148: GOLOOOOOOOOO POR TU GAL
POR TU GAL
POR TU GAL
POR TU GAL
fabulous from CR7, and superb finish by Carlos Martins
2156: The Asian girl, Sandish, sacked in The Apprentice. Doesn't Alan Sugar usually sack the Asian girl in the second week?
2158: England loses 2-1, Crouch scored on 85mins, and Engerland rallied late, but not good enough.
2212: POSTIGAAAAA
2-0
good stuff.
2220: Here's the Ronaldo goal that was wrongly disallowed, what a masterpiece
2230: 3-0!!!!
WOW
postigolo!!!!
haha take that spain, you fkin cheating cooonts
2238: This should be 5-0, spain are rattled.
2256: 4-0
ALMEIDA
ALL OVER
SPAIN GOT A ROLLOCKING
GAUDI, KING PHILIP, DALI, PICASSO, PENELOPE CRUZ, YOUR BOYS TOOK ONE HELL OF A BEATING
I've always had the urge to just put everything down and run to a far-away place, attempting to become some kind of a Kurtz-like figure imposing my influence on some culture that simply isn't ready for me.
I'd probably choose Brazil as my destination, and would head for the hills, attempting to bribe and infiltrate my way into a select community, before building up my influence and attempting to conquer the favelas, and then the rest of the country.
This urge has amplified in recent weeks. Maybe it's the fact that all I seem to do is work, and yet can't afford anything of note, the fact that I am braindead all day long, and then go home and watch tv or youtube to complete a day of brainfrying. Maybe it's the fact that all I can see when I wake up is suffering. In the mirror, on the street, opposite me on the train. That Monday morning look, is this all really worth it?
I look at others going to work every morning, and it kills me. That look of hopelessness, of being beaten to nothing by the system. I often feel this intense sympathy, and feel it strongly, until some fat unhygenic person stands next to me and starts sneezing in my direction. Then I go back to thinking about Brazil.
And so what have I been doing the past 6 months? Avoiding poker for one. And avoiding anything productive too. I've been seeing a girl for a while, and end up doing nothing with her, which gets me thinking, when has a man ever achieved anything with a woman by his side? It's pretty rare.
There are many distractions in this world, to stop us ever achieving anything. For most of us, it is work which is our major distraction. Travelling to and from work, being at work, getting ready for work, we're talking 11 or 12 hours a day. And then the rest of our time is taken up by women, television, gambling and drugs/alcohol.
I guess it's a real life sedative, putting us all into a coma.
Poker:
None.
Writing:
Some.
Sports Betting:
Yeah.
Been back on the sports betting, and guess what you lucky boys and girls, I'll start sharing my tips with you all in this blog. I'm +130% this month, so let's keep this shiet up.
Right now, I got a few active bets, I got Cher and Wagner to win X-factor (15 and 200), and will lay off Wagner this week at 50, and waiting on Cher, and for Porto at 17.5 for the Europa.
Mid-week internationals = yawn. Excuse me whilst I got find an MLS or Indonesian league match to bet on.
So, I made it to Italy and it was as I had hoped. Landed in Pisa on Friday morning, having not slept Thursday due to the early flight, and went directly from the airport to the centre of Pisa to take a look at the leaning tower. We were greeted in Pisa by unrepenting rain and a swarm of Italian and Japanese tourists. It was a good way to open the weekend, however, the fact we were dragging about our luggage and getting soaked wasn't the perfect scenario.
The girl I was with asked a young Italian if he could take a photo of us by the tower, and following this experience I came to the conclusion that young Italians are clearly not tech-savvy. Both photos were terrible. So I obviously cornered a Japanese tourist, who took an acceptable photo.
We caught the bus to Pisa Centrale station, and on the fourth attempt at trying to buy train tickets from a machine (the queue was depressingly long for the over-the-counter ticket desks) I succeeded, and for less than €6 each we had booked our train to Florence. Beat's the £19 I paid for a Stansted Express ticket...
We had a quick coffee at the train station, and the cappucino served to me in one of those typical train station places was actually fabulously frothy, which bode well for the rest of the journey.
We ran to the platform indicated on the boards, and jumped on the train. After sitting their for a few minutes, and realising the train was supposed to have departed already, I asked somebody if we were on the correct train. No...it seems I was heading towards Livorno, which is pretty much the wrong way. One thing Italy isn't good for is signs or instructions, that's for sure.
Once on the correct train, I hoped that Florence would provide a more fulfilling experience than Pisa. Granted, the leaning tower is spectacular, but the rest of the town was village-esque, and offered nothing of interest.
We arrived in Florence at about 5pm, and our hotel was opposite the train station. We slept a couple of hours, before going out for a bite to eat. We found a nice Pizzeria Ristorante, and I had a Fiorentina pizza with a shared bottle of Chianti, and it hit the spot. We walked around the centre a while longer, and struggled to find any bars...this was the only strange thing I found about Florence. Whilst in countries like Portugal or Spain there are an abundance of bars all over the place, our latin counterparts don't seem to have this kind of culture. Later, we were informed that in Italy all the bars will be in one region of the city more or less.
We eventually found a bar, and whilst having a quiet drink were interrupted by a Northern Irish couple by our side (completely smashed obviously) who asked where we were from etc etc. I don't mind when this happens tbh, but this couple were past the point of coherent speech, and were repeatedly telling me the same story about some American family they met at Dublin airport who had been stuck there for weeks, and why would they even bother going to Dublin they asked me, they lived on a ranch! I replied by stating that maybe they just like to see new things, and are probably bored of the ranch. The blank expression that greeted me told me that from this point onwards I should just nod and grin. Once her boyfriend went to the toilet, and the girl I was with went to the bar, the N.Irish girl informed me that I was not very portuguese looking because I was slim, but that I had the brooding eyes or something. Ok...at this point I worried slightly, because her boyfriend looked mental. The boyfriend returned with shots of baileys mixed with sambucca for all of us, and my companion returned with shots of limoncello. At some point, I noticed that he was beginning to make moves on my girl, and she on me. Haha, the bastards. They weren't even remotely near worth the hassle, and so we made our excuses and exited back to the hotel.
Upon returning to our room, I wondered whether anybody would have made the swap if they were in my position, and whether it'd be worth it. My question was answered by the most incredible sex I'd had in a long time, and I decided I had made the right decision sticking with the girl I had travelled with.
The rest of the weekend involved an absurd amount of gallery visiting, including The Uffizi, Palaccio Vecchio, seeing Michaelangelos David, Ponte Vecchio etc., with lots of good food, good drinking, and a copious amount of intercourse too.
In short, it was a good and rather uneventful trip. I know it makes better reading when I get drunk and piss on side streets, before failing epicly at making moves at the girl. But personally, I prefer eating good ice-cream in the sun with a good looking girl by my side.
Today was the funeral of my friends dad, which had been delayed a week due to the travel chaos meaning the priest was stuck abroad and family couldn't fly in, and this lowered my mood. These funerals always get me. The complete pointlessness of everything becomes apparent when you see a woman crying over a man that she had loved for decades and now is gone forever. Upon viewing such harrowing scenes, a darker side of me urges to never get close to anybody like that, and therefore I'll never feel such pain. But I imagine the good times outweigh everything. But in that moment, the good times that existed seemed to be drowned out under the howls of women crying.
I've been quite busy in recent weeks, largely with matters that would essentially bore you to sleep, in other words work and the like. My recent disappearance from the blogging scene co-incided with a disappearance from the social scene, as other commitments (and namely a girl, whom I'll discuss in other posts) have enveloped my life and engulfed up my free time like a cloud of ash rushing towards England.
Yeah, I'm pissed off at the ash cloud. I've been looking forward to a weekend in Florence for weeks, and now it looks almost certain to flop. Yeah I can re-book it, but it doesn't take the bitter taste out of my mouth.
I end up wanting to grab my PC at work and throw it out the window, urinate on the walls, spit in the face of anyone who remarks at my actions and walk long into the distance with dreams of becoming a world renowned writer.
I've not written much in recent weeks, and instead of writing I end up dreaming of what I'd say on chat shows and in press conferences about my latest books. Turning up at gala events with a celebrity by my side, and running as far away from my currenct existence as possible.
As I chase my dreams in my mind, the dream itself seeps away. It's always been like this, wanting to be the greatest without doing any work to get there.
I haven't played poker in months at least, and I'm truly pleased to be free from the shackles of spending 12 hours on a Saturday playing 20 MTTs on stars and busting busting busting min cash bust bust bust fuck fuck fuck, sunday comes, ok more more more, sunday goes, and Monday...Monday brings death of the soul.
"How was your weekend?"
I'd lie of course, what kind of person spends a weekend in-doors playing poker. A person like me. I escaped, but replaced the vice with others.
Thats enough for today, please let me somehow get to florence....
Sports betting guru who balances work, boredom and bad beats, this blog chronicles the ups and downs of the whole thing. Used to play pokes, but now I don'ts
