Friday, August 28, 2009

Things I Hate (#2)

You know what I hate? Poker. I hate the people who play poker. I hate the channels that air poker. I hate Matt Damon for starring in Rounders, a movie that made more stupid people want to play poker.

I hate poker.

My biggest problem with poker is the fact that I can't hate poker without people acting like I just said I hate Jesus.

"Why? Why don't you like it? Why don't you want to play?"

If I ask someone if they want mayoinnase on a sandwhich, and they say no, I don't throw a fit.

"Why don't you want mayoinnase? What's the problem? It'll be good."

And therein lies my hatred for the game. It's that others think it is the greatest thing on Earth, that they will someday end up wearing a hat on ESPN2.

I've tried to play the game in the past. And there's always that one person. You know the guy. He's sitting there passing out cards like he's Gambit. He rattles off stupid terms that he knows are stupid, that nobody else uses and that he just Googled, only to condesendingly explain what it means when everyone looks at him blankly.

"You don't know what a 'broadway' is? It's a 10 through ace straight." I hate that guy. And if you've never played with that guy, you're that guy.

I hate how someone ALWAYS quotes Rounders and how it's ALWAYS Teddy KGB. I love movie references. They make up 95% of my dialogue. But when I just lost $20 that I didn't want to pony up in the first place, I don't want to hear your broken record of "it hurts, doesn't it? Your hopes dashed, your dreams down the toilet."

If poker is so great, why is that you always "just need one more guy" to get a game going? I have never been in a situation where there were too many people who wanted to play poker. And why the shortage of players? People should be lining up around the block just for the chance to play. If that's not the case, blindly call someone up.

"I don't know, man. Free pizza and naked chicks? I'm kind of tired. What's that? Poker? Be right over." Boom. Done.

The absolute worst is when you're already at someone's house and someone whips out a deck of cards.

"Brought some cards in case anyone wanted to play poker?" No. If I wanted to play poker, I would be playing poker already. I came over here to hang out, talk about how much I hate people like you and not throw away my money.

My beaches of Normandy is walking into someone's house and seeing a dogs playing poker photo on their basement wall. That means you know you're going to have to play poker. With no other hobby is there some stupid unverisal painting that says "Hate Me" like that photo. None. If that photo was shown to me as part of a Rorschach Test, I would say, "Impending Awfulness."

And if I ever get coaxed into playing, after I've accepted that fact that I just lost $20, I become Sisyphus because someone always plays the "why don't you buy back in" card. Always. It's pointless to go Sad Sack on them, because when you're playing poker, you're the most generous person on the planet.

"No, man. I gotcha. You can just pay me back." If I asked you for $20 five hours ago you would have told me to go to hell. Now, psh, it's only money.

Not to me it's not. It's money on top of another 2 hours wasted watching you biding your time, just waiting for your hand, just itching to drop "I flopped a nut straight" on the table.

And I will hate you for it.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

A Lesson in Great Voicemails

Woke up this morning to history. Looked at my phone and saw a text message from Chris, my little brother who is entering his final year of graduate school at Virginia Commonwealth.

"Everything hurts"

Saw I had voicemail as well. What follows is a series of voicemails from Chris, as I received them, and a recollection of the first time I ever cried laughing listening to messages. One thing to keep in mind is that Chris and I are in a pay fantasy baseball league that keeps scoring on a weekly head-to-head basis. For example, if I go 6-5 on an opponent for a week, I win that week. Currently, I'm in first place and he is in third.

12:28 a.m.: Hey, I got an awful message. Ahhhhh, hey, my name's Jason Michael. Leave a message. I'm eating honey- roasted peanuts out back. Adam Wainwright..making me call everybody in my phone book saying, uhhhhhhh, hmmm, it will feel a lot better when, capitalization, W-H-E-N, WHEN we win a World Series. Damn. Damn. I gots to look up on my phone and say 'Adam Wainright is shutting out just another opponent?' You say, uh, we're going to win another World Series. Say something. Say something. I got to go. People are calling me...........Dan Bettlach. YaYa. I'll see ya.

12:50 a.m.: Yeah, I didn't think so. Not going to lie to you, I don't know if I already called you already or not, but....... Shit is that I think about it, I already called you. Hang in there. You'll get yourself a championship. Just keep waiting. Keep on hanging on..KEEP on keeping on..................Hang on.

1:11 a.m.: Alright, 3rd message. know what, I said, "If Jason's going to go 11-1 on a motha fucker, I gots to go 10-2. Look at this. Runs. Homers. Ribbys. I mean, I'm blowing out him. I might, he's not out. Yeah, I'm talking while I'm looking. One.....two...three...four, no he's still in it...two, four, six.....Vick's Second Chance is out. See ya. I mean, guy's been talking all kinds of shit. Half of these guys aren't even over .500. Yeah......there you have it.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Worst of the Worst

Article on CNN today that ruined my morning.

"Their Hands are Worth $1,200 a day"

It's an article on hand models. It's an article that made me hate people even more than I do now. It's bad. It's so bad I almost clicked over to FoxNews instead.

The reporter, Breeanna Hare, is responsible for the hard-hitting article a few weeks back on how Jennifer Aniston is fine with being single. This woman is the Edward R. Murrow of stupid. Good Night, and You Suck.

But Hare isn't the one I hate the most in this article. It's the hand models, and it's not because they make an obscene amount of money for All-Stating. It's for their views on what they do. They sound like George Costanza when he became a hand model in 'The Puffy Shirt' episode:

"The knuckles are all out of proportion. you got hair over there - where do you get off comparing your hands to my hands?! This is a one-in-a-million hand."

I'm looking at you Ashly Covington.

"Most people can walk away from work when they're done with a job, but parts models can't, because [our parts] have to be flawless. I moisturize 20 to 30 times a day, and wear gloves 90 percent of the time."

You might remember Ashly from such ads as La-Z-Boy, AMF Bowling and MCV Woman's Nursing. If not, check out her Web site to see what it is she can offer:

It gets better.

"You have to know how to hold the hand so it looks beautiful."

I want to stick my average fist in her face.

Do I wish I had that job? Absolutely. Would I let everyone laugh at how ridiculous my profession is as long as I'm cashing $1,000 checks each day? Without a doubt. Would I ever let someone make a hand turkey out of my hand? Easy. These babies are worth some coin.

"I was doing a shoot where I had to pick up a cheeseburger and bring it to camera, but they wanted it to be the most delectable cheeseburger. So I said 'mmmm,' and really conveyed the emotion entirely to get it reflected in my hands."

When can we really see your range? Katherine Heigl me.

"I've had some of my mom's friends say, 'When will it be your face?' But I'm not trying for that. I'm really proud of all the places that my hands have been."

Hare really drives the point home with her glorification of the art that is hand modeling.

As a result, parts models have to do what seems like the near impossible: "Your hands have to convey emotion," Covington said, whose background in drama serves her well.

Did she study at the New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts? "This one time, at Hand Camp..."

With all of the reality TV showing what it takes to prance the runways, none depict the truth about being a parts model. There's the discomfort of contorting one's hand in an uncomfortable position for hours.

Covington's Web site has a bevy of reviews (you read that right) and this one is by far the best:

"An excellent and subtle performer, a pleasure to work with."-Brian Bartusiak, Producer Metro Video

Yeah, that is THE Brian Bartusiak, Producer of Metro Video. When you get his seal of approval, you've got a DeNiro/Scorsese partnership of digital proportions.

Congrats, Ashly. Let's all give her a hand.