Friday, July 17, 2009

The End

My one and only friend the end.

Saturday, August 04, 2007

6 months in 6 paragraphs

Well, it's been quite some time since my last entry, so I guess I'll add a little something. Unfortunately, there won't be any more Officeesque stories to tell, as in March, I boarded the good ship redundancy. I think too many people view it in a negative way. It gets a lot of bad press, but it's not really that terrible. You sleep when you want for as long as you want, you can wear the same clothes for days on end. You can catch up on all those dusty dvds that you never had the time to watch. And best of all, you can scoff at all your friends who are having work problems or stresses as a result of whatever line of work they're in.

So anyways, since redunancy, I've been playing poker full time and it's gone fantastically. I've worked 211 hours to this date and have made more money in that time than I earned in my job, which was extremely lucrative for someone of my age. Sweeter still, it's all tax free. I'm playing mostly 2/4 NL though I'm overrolled for 3/6, but I'm a bankroll nit and playing 2/4 is stress free and it's easy to have a 1k session over the course of a few hours. So in terms of life changes, this is undoubtedly the best one I've made to date.

So enough of the boring poker crap anyways. At the moment, I'm living in a sweet 5 bed house in Thailand with some friends who are over here travelling. When they go home I'll be travelling indefinitely, laptop in hand around Asia, South America and wherever else takes my fancy, hopefully finsihing up in Vegas at some point in the future.

I'm hoping to update this thing a bit more regularly, though don't expect too much poker talk. I really don't have too many interesting things to say about it. When travelling to 10 places in the space of a month that are the real world equivalent of a biblical paradise, the thought of blogging about the mundanities of poker just doesn't appeal to me in the slightest.

Check out el stuntman for poker blogging. He's one of the few people who can actually blog about the game and make it both engaging and funny to the reader.

Instead, stay tuned for some psylicobin induced tales from Koh Phangan beach.

And of course, gl at the tables.


Friday, January 12, 2007

Fun and frolics

I remember my days in secondary school pretty well. Some were great, some were terrible and some were downright hilarious. However, let me strike one popular belief form the record. They are definitely not the best days of your life. I didn't do drugs, I didn't have sex, I didn't see any of the world, I met fuck all interesting people and I got told to do things I hated doing by people who I thought were intellectually inferior. I'd hate to meet the boring cunt who came up with that phrase. He must have lived a really shit, lonely life after he finished school.

Anyways, I won't bore you with the great or the terrible, but I would like to recount one instance of the hilarious, to serve as an entrée to my anecdote. I remember sitting in Irish class at the tender age of 14, reading through a short story in Réaltra. We fondly referred to our teacher at the time as ET. This nickname stemmed from many things. He was mid 60s, quite short, had large tufts of hair under each eye, foamed at each side of his mouth like a rabid dog, smelt like no one else that was of this world and most significantly had a large extra terrestrial growth on the side of his neck. Yes. Kids can be very cruel at times.

One of the guys down the back of the class asked to be excused and returned 5 minutes later rather excited. After several minutes and various Chinese whispers later, I was told of a 6 inch log of poo gracing the centre of the student’s bathroom floor.

I did what any sane person would do and said "sir, an bhfuil cead agam dul go dtí an leithreas?” ET grumbled and eventually consented. On entering the toilets, I was extremely disappointed. The sight of another person’s excrement on the toilet floor was far less splendid and awe-inspiring than I had imagined.

This trend continued over the course of the next month. Random faeces started appearing in toilets throughout the school at different times of the day on different days of the week.
The felon who was never apprehended soon attained legendary status and was known to all as the phantom crapper or the phantom shitter in some circles, before he finally retired.

In my childhood innocence, I assumed this to be an isolated incident. Then, today, I googled the terms "phantom crapper/shitter" and was astounded by the results. These infamous, mischievous heroes have cropped up everywhere, in virtually every social setting in the world. They really are a universal phenomenon.

So onto the meat of my tale. My most recent discovery was also encountered in a bathroom, though this time, it was in the heart of a large multinational corporation.

After working in an office for 2 years, I do many things as part of a routine. For example, I like to have a coffee and a croissant at 9.30 every morning. I go to the organic market beside my workplace every Friday afternoon. Another is to bring the Irish Times to the bathroom with me and do the crossaire while I'm sitting on the toilet after lunch. Don't get me wrong. I don't have a mechanical, computer operated bowel system that needs relieving straight after lunch every day, but this is the time at which I find myself using the company’s' facilities most frequently.

So one day I was sat on the toilet, working on a clue. Someone entered the cubicle next to me. Bingo! Got it! Now, what's 14 down. Not many more to go. I might even complete this before I've to go back to my desk. Next thing, there's a rustle in the cubicle next to me. The type of sound you hear when there's a bird waddling through a bush. I continue onto 20 across, but now I've noticed the rustling has gotten louder. Now it's accompanied by somebody drawing deep heavy breaths. I must be going mad. 20 across is...

WTF? That's no bird waddling through a bush. But what is it? I know that sound. Years of Hardy Boys, Secret 7 and Famous 5 books come flooding back to me. The clues are there, right in front of me.

And then, it hits me. I know that sound. I'm a fucking guy. I know exactly what that sound is. As much as some might like to deny it, we've all had innumerous dates with Rosie Palm and her 5 sisters throughout our lives. Bashing the bishop, stroking the sausage, choking the chicken or spanking the monkey. Everyone has different names for it. And unless I'm losing my mind, there is somebody in the next cubicle giving himself some lunchtime relief right now. Incessant, panting and rustling is quickly followed by some yanking of the toilet roll dispenser. The only reasons anybody would try to take toilet roll out that vigorously are:

1. To physically rip the dispenser off the wall
2. To create a really subtle diversion

I grab my phone and frantically text one of my friends who works with me to tell him of the goings on. I hurriedly close my paper and scamper out of the bathroom to find him. So we go down grab a coffee and I recount my tale. After much musing, I agree that I must have been imagining it, still gob smacked after the experience.

So several weeks passed by and we're out for a work night out. I've wet the whistle quite a bit at this stage and am mildly inebriated, rambling onto a work colleague while enjoying a cigarette in the beer garden of a pub. Another guy from the office walks by. Then, my workmate turns to me excitedly and says "oh oh, wait til I tell you a story about him". I'm all ears, looking forward to hearing the latest bit of hot office gossip.

"He's the phantom wanker!" Huh? "Yep. He's the phantom wanker". The what?

After much back and forth it's explained there's a gentleman on our floor in the office who relieves himself in the bathroom every day after lunch. I recount my story amidst my colleague's mixture of nods and laughter and putting 2+2 together I get a horrifying realisation that my lunchtime experience was in fact real and not a figment of my imagination as I'd previously thought.

Needless to say, I've put the Crossaire back to mid afternoon.

Friday, December 01, 2006

26 Ways To Make A Woman Smile

I thought these could do with resurrecting. They're much more interesting than any poker related bullshit anyway.


1. When she asks how she looks shrug and say "could be better" this will keep her on her toes. Girls love that.

2. Never hold her hand. This can be interpreted as a sign of weakness. If she grabs your hand squeeze hers really really hard until she cries. This will impress her by showing her what a strong man you are.

3. Once a month sneak up on her from behind and knock her over. Girls are like dogs. They love to be roughed up.

4. Call her in the middle of the night to ask if she's sleeping. If she is say "you better be". Repeat this 4 or 5 times until morning. This will show her you care.

5. When she is upset about something, suggest to her that it might be her fault. This will pave the way for her own personal improvement. And every girl needs some improvement.

6. Recognize the small things . . . they usually mean the most. Then when she's sleeping, steal all her small things and break them.

7. If you're talking to another girl, make sure shes looking. When she is, stare into her eyes mouth the words "f*** you" and grab the other girls ass. Girls love competition.

8. Tell her you're taking her out to dinner. Drive for miles so she thinks it's going to be really special. Then take her to a burning tire yard. When she starts to get upset tell her you were just kidding and now you're really going to take her to dinner. Then, drive her home. When she starts crying and asks why you would do something like that lean over and whisper gently into her ear "...because i

9. Introduce her to your friends as "some chick". Women love those special nicknames.

10. Play with her hair. Play with it HARD.

11. Warm her up when shes cold...and not by giving her your jacket... then you might get cold. Rather, look her in the eye and say "if you don't stop bitching about the cold right now you're going to be bitching about a black eye." The best way to get warm is with fear.

12. Take her to a party. When you get there she'll have to go to the bathroom (they always do). Leave immediately. Come back right when the partys dying and yell at her the whole way home for ditching you at the party.

13. Make her laugh. A good way to do this is if she has a small pet. Kick the pet. I always find stuff like that funny. Why shouldn't girls?

14. Let her fall asleep in your arms. When she's fast asleep, wait 10 minutes then JUMP UP AND SCREAM IN HER EAR! Repeat until she goes home and you can use your arms for more important things like basketball.

15. Spit often. I hear girls like guys that spit.

16. If you actually care about her never ever tell her. This will only give her self confidence. Then you can never turn her into the object she deep down desires to be.

17. Every time you're in her house steal one of the following: shoes, earrings, or anything else that comes in pairs. Only take one of the pair. This way she'll go crazy.

18. Take her out to dinner. Right when shes about to order interrupt and say no she's not hungry. Make her watch you eat. Girls love a guy that speaks for them.

19. Look her in the eyes and smile. Then clock her one. Girls love a spontaneous guy.

20. Give her one of your t-shirts......and make sure it has your smell on it. But not a sexy cologne smell. A bad smell. You know what i'm talking about.

21. When its raining keep asking her if shes crying. She'll say no it's just the rain. Ten minutes later turn to her and just scream at her to stop crying you f***ing baby. Girls like a tough man.

22. Titty twisters and plenty of them.

23. If you're listening to music, and she asks to hear it, tell her no. This way she'll think you're mysterious.

24. Remember her birthday but don't get her something. Teach her material objects aren't important. The only thing that's important is that she keeps you happy. And your happiness is the greatest present she can ever get.

25. When she gives you a present on your birthday, christmas, or just when ever, take it and tell her you love it. Then, next time you know she's coming over on a trash day leave the trash can open and have the present visibly sticking out of the can. Girls actually don't like this one that much but i think it's funny.

26. If she's mad at you for not calling her when you say you will promise her that you will call her at a certain time of the day. This will make sure that she waits by the phone. Tell her when you call youre going to tell her a special surprise. Now shell be really excited. Now dont call.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Lay Across My Big Brass Bed

Watching an episode of The Office recently, I was thinking of the genuine comedy that exists in various real life situations, whether it be in an office, a lift or elsewhere. Walking down the street and changing direction several times to avoid another passerby can be extremely funny.

All these thoughts brought me back to September of last year, when I was involved in a similar comedic moment. At the time, it was horrific, but I can look back now and smile about it.

The first part of the story involves a dreaded discovery for all men; a swelling on the testes, or as doctors like to call it, a lump on the balls. A shocking discovery to say the least. I went through the various stages that I'm sure all men do on discovery of such a phenomena.

Stage 1: Denial - Simply ignore the fact it's there, check again next month and hopefully it will be gone.

Stage 2: Acceptance of your new friend. It didn't go away, so looks like we're gonna be partners for a while. There's no way it could be anything serious though. No way.

Stage 3: The Oh Shit stage. This is when it starts to get worrying. You think about it and all that goes through your head is "Oh Shit, this could be testicular cancer. Eek."

Stage 4: Planning the visit to the doctor. I've spoken to a few people who've been in similar situations, albeit with different afflictions (namely thrush and a few other genital nasties!) and the general consensus is that the thought of having your manly bits inspected by another guy is somewhat nauseating.

Stage 5: The visit to the doctor.

On entering the doctors surgery, he started off with the usual jibber jabber; how's my health, do I smoke, exercise, do drugs? He then asked why I'd booked the appointment. I explained the discovery of my new little friend. "Oh" he says, "we'll have a look at that in a minute". Super.

He then proceeded to do a test on all my vital organs. I started to relax a little. "Your heart is fine. Lungs are fine. All the vitals are grand". Excellent. "Now can you just lie down on the bed there and take off your trousers and underwear"?

Sweet fucking Jesus. One minute the lungs are fine and now this fucker is asking me to get naked. Oh my God.

What ensued was possibly the most awkward moment of my life. Lieing in a stone cold doctor's surgery, bollok naked, he takes a seat right beside me. Out comes the rubber glove. I start to feel queasy. OMFG please don't put that where I think it's going. Please. He slips the glove on like a seasoned pro, and proceeds in feeling each of my balls.

To liven things up a little, he started asking me random questions, trying desperately to relieve the nervous tension in the room. Nothing like some small talk to take my mind off things. 5 minutes seemed like an eternity. And then, as if spoken by Jesus himself, I hear the words "Right, you can get dressed again". Pheewww. Breathe deep. Swallow. Ok. We're done.

He tells me that I'll need to go for an ultrasound in St. Vincents ASAP. Happy days, another fun-filled day to pen into the diary.

Later on, I had a conversation with my girlfriend that went something like this:

Her: Would you not get aroused in a situation like that?
Me: No, there's something about a man feeling my balls that doesn't quite float my boat.
Her: Well what if it was a hot nurse doing it?
Me: NO. Somebody checking your balls for testicular cancer is surprisingly unarousing. FFS are you thick?
Her: Oh. Sorry.

In fact, dearest readers, I made a startling discovery that day. I like to refer to it as the "anti-boner". I'll say no more.

My trip to the hospital was just as much of a hoot.

It involved:

1. A 6 hour wait
2. A crazy old woman in wheelchair screaming for help while being restrained by hospital staff
3. Lots of lubricating jelly spread on my kidneys and nutsack
4. Lots of gas (the doctors couldn't see my kidneys using the ultrasound, as my stomach was filled with gas. I was absolutely dying to fart for the whole examination but didn't want to be rude!)
5. Puzzled faces.

Number 5 was almost certainly the most horrifying moment of my life. The first doctor left halfway through the exam with a baffled look on his face. He came back with Dr. no 2. He then gave my bits the once over. The 2 consulted and left the u/s room together looking equally perplexed.

My heart dropped. I went into a cold sweat. OMG they've just found tumors on my balls and kidneys. OMFG, I'm going to have to get chemotherapy. OMFG I'm going to have to get a ball removed. These were just a few of the million different thoughts that suddenly whizzed through my head.

10 minutes they left me there. Stark naked on a hospital bed with ice cold lubricating jelly slowly starting to set on my body. I felt like I was on Candid Camera.

Eventually the two arrived back with a senior doctor. He carried out the screening process again. After some time, the 3 had a group meeting, lots of whispers and medical jargon being thrown left, right and centre.

After the group conference, they explained that all the bits were in working order, no tumors, just that one of my kidneys was out of place (apparently this is quite common). No medical reprecussions.

I cleaned myself with a towel, got dressed and breathed a deep sigh of relief while wiping the tiniest tear from my eye, before walking out to tell the girlfriend the good news.

Hiphip fcuking hooray. All that stress for nothing.

If I ever decide to become a boxer i'll have a big edge on the competition!