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Nov. 5th, 2005 11:50 pmIn the midst of losing a ridiculously large sum of money on Ultimate Bet this weekend (oooh, probably in the 400 bucks region, at the hands of a collection of, in the most part, utterly incompetent fools, which in a way made it worse), I suddenly found myself sat next to a player called, yes, Birks.
I enquired whether it was his real name, of if it was short for Birkenstocks, and he replied that it was Dizzy Gillespie's middle name, a fact of which I was, needless to say, aware, since Gillespie released an album called Birks Works.
Anyway, as if my day wasn't going badly enough, this led me to keep looking at the box to see that I seemed to be winning a lot of pots I didn't remember. Then I realized that it was the guy next to me, not me.
The fireworks are still banging along outside, but I'm so ridiculously tired that I should think I will be able to sleep through them. After a long long bad session I always have this kind of feeling of emptiness. So it goes. We all know that God is only playing with us. Some people he blesses, and some he condemns to, well, I don't know what. Purgatory, I guess. I haven't even got around to reading the papers today, although I did manage to clean the kitchen.
What I really really need, I think, is Prozac. Anyone know of a reliable supplier? It might stop me feeling snappy at work, at home, in life, and turning into a grumpy old man whom even I don't like to be in the company of, so I can hardly expect anyone else to enjoy it.
Tired. bed.
I enquired whether it was his real name, of if it was short for Birkenstocks, and he replied that it was Dizzy Gillespie's middle name, a fact of which I was, needless to say, aware, since Gillespie released an album called Birks Works.
Anyway, as if my day wasn't going badly enough, this led me to keep looking at the box to see that I seemed to be winning a lot of pots I didn't remember. Then I realized that it was the guy next to me, not me.
The fireworks are still banging along outside, but I'm so ridiculously tired that I should think I will be able to sleep through them. After a long long bad session I always have this kind of feeling of emptiness. So it goes. We all know that God is only playing with us. Some people he blesses, and some he condemns to, well, I don't know what. Purgatory, I guess. I haven't even got around to reading the papers today, although I did manage to clean the kitchen.
What I really really need, I think, is Prozac. Anyone know of a reliable supplier? It might stop me feeling snappy at work, at home, in life, and turning into a grumpy old man whom even I don't like to be in the company of, so I can hardly expect anyone else to enjoy it.
Tired. bed.
