annie

The title of this site says "Gambler." You'd think I'd write about gambling then wouldn't you?

Fooled ya.

Gambling... Let's see. 

Sometimes I just want to take a break for a minute and rest my feet.  It seems like any time I sit down at a slot machine, someone wants to play that exact machine.  There might be a row of 30 empty slots, but the patron always wants mine...and I never say no.  I always just roll my eyes and get up. And then I feel bad about being rude and rolling my eyes.

That's the kind of story you wanted, right?

Well I slow rolled someone for the first and most likely last time in my entire life.  It was online. The villain check raised me all in on the turn and I waited until my timer was almost out to call with the nuts. If I had to be truly honest as to why I did it, I'd tell you it's because the person who it was against tilts the hell out of me. Their mannerisms irk me, everything about them irks me.  So yea I did it, I slow rolled them.  It was a dick move, I'll admit it.  

I haven't finished a book front to back in a while.  My attention span was shot for a bit but now I think it's back.  I finished Flash Boys in a day. The book is sort of about how the stock market is rigged; how people with very slightly faster information can fuck those without it. Good read, I recommend it if you're at all into the market and any of the other Michael Lewis books (Moneyball, Liar's Poker, The Blind Side.)

I think I don't write about poker as much lately because it hasn't been as exciting this last year as it used to be.  I'm playing smaller and not nearly as many hours.  I've had only one 5 figure day in a long time.  It's just been meh.

In my mind I live in the past a lot.  I'm trying hard to stop this, but it's not easy. I figuratively kick myself on the daily for not having done things differently or for not having simply done more with my time.  And it's happening in the present, I know it.  I should be doing more but I'm not.  I should be playing more, learning more, doing more, writing more, going places more, etc etc etcetera! I need to be taking advantage of the freedom I have.  I should be and need to be moving.  Move or die.

I'm going to go take a bath.

if I had...for every time

A friend of mine was once interested in moving to Nashville and asked me to go with her to check it out. We were downtown on Broadway hopping bar to bar when we walked into an empty spot with a young unknown singing.  We weren't even fans of country music, but he stopped us in our tracks.  He had star quality beaming off of him.  It was, I kid you not, magical.  

We were the only people who sat and watched his whole set.  After the show we met up with him and his guitarist.  They lived in Nashville and like everyone else, they were trying to "make it."  We had no doubts that they would. 

We spent the entire night with them and ended up at someone's house having a sing-a-long into the early morning.  It was a great way to experience Nashville.

A year or so later, the singer released an album and had a song on country radio.  We were thrilled for him. When we found out he was going to make a stop in Vegas, we knew we had to go. 

His show was in a small room at Boulder Station casino.  

Here we go!

And...

Wow.

What a disappointment.  It was contrived.  It was stiff.  It kinda sucked.

What happened to his magic?   Did the record label suck him dry?  He still had a great voice but the shininess had worn off.  The songs were awful, without soul.  Who would ever now know how good he really was?

After the show my friend and I still excitedly approached him and his same guitarist we spent that enchanted night with in Nashville.  Neither of them knew who we were.  Nope.  No clue.

His video below has over 9 million views.  NINE MILLION.  It's not good.  At all.  It's sad, kind of a joke really.  It appears though that I am in the minority here but It just doesn't touch upon this guy's greatness, because he was great, for at least one forgettable night in Nashville. 








jack

This is where I'm starting.

I think I'm going to go for one of those stream of consciousness posts tonight and see how many green beans I'm left with when it's all over.

It's Friday night and I'm bored out of my mind.  So fucking bored.  I was either going to get something bad to eat or take two valium and eat green beans.  I chose the lessor of the two evils.  I have nobody to hang out with today.  The one person who called to meet up, I didn't respond to.  My BFF is out with her new BF, living happily ever after in honeymoon-phase-land. My own boyfriend is I think playing poker but I'm not sure because we are in the midst of a brawl complete with minimal communication.  "Brawl" sounds kind of physical right?  It's not physical, I just wanted to use a different word than the word "fight" and I don't want to pull up the thesaurus and ruin my trains of thoughts.  He gets upset when I don't give him his place in this blog.  So there's something.

I was watching Extreme Weight Loss Makeover the other night, or whatever it's called and in one year's time people who are obese lose a ton of weight.  It's amazing.  I always wonder how these people can find the time to go on a 3 month retreat during the show given most of them have families and jobs to tend to. Their health becomes their number one priority though so I guess they just make it work.  It's amazing (did I say that already?) The show always gets me. They work so hard.  I think I could drop 20 pounds in 8 weeks max if I made any efforts but instead I continue to go to Starbucks in the afternoon and get chocolate croissants. Multiple; I get 2. These are not vegan which is why I've been claiming to be about 90%, which is pretty good if you were to ask me. Those croissants though, they are the death of me.

Anyway when these previously fat people have a coming out party at the end of their one year journey there are always 50-100 or so people in the audience applauding them; people they know.  I feel like that must be a pre-req for the show.  Where would I find 100 people that I know well enough to talk into venturing to my coming out party?

When I lived in Palm Springs I was in a band managed by this guy Benny who sang a hit song about pedophilia that you can listen to here.  He once told me to open my mouth wider when I sang back ups.

I did not like him. 

Every week we were either getting signed or flying to England to record an album. Nothing ever happened. I stuck with the band for a while because the songs were really good but in the end I quit and moved to LA. I don't think they ever got anywhere.  It was criminal for the singer to at least not get a publishing deal but... 

Benny told us a story once about having to go on the Delilah radio show while his Mom was really sick or newly dead, I don't remember. But anyway he had to make an appearance on this show and although he was upset he said he couldn't show it.  He said he had to "turn it on" for the audience.  I thought that was lame.  What's wrong with being legitimately upset and expressing it?  Won't people relate to that better than a fake showman?

I know I've got another random story in me, let me think...

Oh Pilates today, not good.  Its a hen house.  That's the term to use when a lot of chatty women get together right?  Well thats what that term means today.  My teacher is a single Mom, she shops at Savers, her daughter bought a tutu and her brother is an alcoholic sober for 3 years now and he drinks hemp smoothies.  Man, how can I get in my Pilates zone when all the teacher does is tell stories about herself?  I once had a therapist that did that.  I was depressed or sad, whether we want to be clinical or human in the description, and I had lost a ton of money in investments over a short amount of time.  I tried to convey this to the therapist and get advice on how to get over it and move on.  Instead of helping me, she told me over and over and over how she could relate because her life was nearly ruined from the not nearly as much money as I had lost experience she had from buying her house.  That's fine, it's all relative and I felt for her but she wasn't paying me $90/hour.

I wonder if I'm going to get sick from all of these green beans.

Let me grab a green tea...

Ok, I'm back.

 

And here's whats left of our snack.