Posted: Tuesday, March 9, 2010 - 1 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
   This from Steve Siebold.    

 The World Class Operates From Objective Reality

 

“Amateur performers operate from delusion, pros operate from objective reality. The great ones’ habits, actions, and behaviors are totally congruent with the size and scope of their ultimate vision. That’s why we call them champions.”

– Steve Siebold

In 20 years of competing, coaching and working with performers from various fields, I’ve discovered most amateurs suffer from mild to severe delusion in relation to their efforts and competencies. In other words, most people delude themselves into thinking they are working harder then they are, and that they are more competent than they actually are. Of the five major levels of conscious awareness, (poverty, working, middle, upper, and world) my experience has been that performers at the middle-class levels of consciousness suffer the grandest delusions. The poverty level is barely surviving and living in a very harsh set of circumstances. The working class is punching a mental time clock and counting the days until retirement. They’re usually not expecting much, and no one around them expects much, either. They are typically not concerned about climbing any higher. It’s the middle class that is most incongruent with reality. They are operating at a high enough level to understand that higher levels exist. Although they don’t expect to get there, the thought crosses their minds from time to time. Because of their low expectations, their actions are incongruent with their desires. In other words, they want to live the life of the world class, but are unwilling to pay the price. Since this reality is too harsh to bear, they delude themselves into thinking they are doing everything in their power to get ahead. Of course, they’re not. They’ll tell you they’re putting in far more time than they are. They’ll swear they are thinking about their vision all the time, but they’re not. The world class is brutally honest with themselves, and they tend to look reality in the face. They err on the side of over-practicing and over-preparing. Champions know that, to ascend to the top, you must first be operating from a mindset of objective reality. Self-deception and delusion have no place in the professional performer’s consciousness.

Action Step for Today: Make a commitment to check delusion at the door. Be honest and ask this critical thinking question: “Are my habits, actions and behaviors congruent with the vision I have for my life?”

World-Class Resource: Get a copy of Leadership and Self-Deception, by The Arbinger Institute. This book made me reexamine my entire belief system. It’s a must-have for your mental toughness library.


More secrets to follow. - JDW
Posted: Friday, March 5, 2010 - 1 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other

“I woke up early today, excited over all I get to

do before the clock strikes midnight. I have

responsibilities to fulfill today. I am important.

My job is to choose what kind of day I am

going to have.

Today I can complain because the weather is

rainy, or I can be thankful that the grass is

getting watered for free.

Today I can feel sad that I don’t have more

money, or I can be glad that my finances

encourage me to plan my purchases wisely

and guide me away from waste.

Today I can grumble about my health, or I can

rejoice that I am alive.

Today I can lament over all that my parents

didn’t give me when I was growing up, or I can

feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.

Today I can cry alt because roses have thorns, or

I can celebrate that the thorns have roses.

Today I can mourn my lack of friends, or I can

excitedly embark upon a quest to discover

new relationships.

Today I can whine because I have to go to

work, or I can shout for joy because I have a

job to do.

Today I can complain because I have to go to

school, or I can eagerly open my mind and fill

it with rich new tidbits of knowledge.

Today I can murmur dejectedly because I have

to do housework, or I can feel honored

because God has provided shelter for my

mind, body, and soul.

Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be

shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets

to do the shaping. What today will be like is

up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I

will have.

Have a GREAT DAY alt. . . unless you have

other plans."        -   Author Unknown

Posted: Wednesday, March 3, 2010 - 2 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
You need to be spending some time studying away from the table.  Especially if you want to adapt to the ever improving competition.  Even freerollers can afford top notch education.
 
For example....
 
 
This is a 41-minute intro to multi-table SNGs by a two-time WPT champ.
 
 
The Deuce Plays with Bart Hanson: DeucesCracked offers 58 podcasts, which are both entertaining and informativeThere are four episodes with Tommy Angelo, a particular favorite of mine.
 
 
StoxPoker offers 14 podcasts, including two with Dusty "Leatherass" Schmidt.  Another favorite.
 
 
CardPlayer's monthly newsletter typically includes a couple of free training videos from PokerSavvy.
 
Poker Professional Andrew "Foucault" Brokos reviews some of the biggest pots he played last month, and breaks down his thought process in each spot. Listen to how a high stakes player analyzes a poker hand - and learn a few things to help your own game!  (31 minutes long.)
 
 
There are perhaps two dozen training sites today.  Many of them offer free videos. 
 
By all means, check out the podcasts.  The point is there are plenty of opportunities to garner some expert advice...for free.
Posted: Saturday, February 27, 2010 - 3 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
Am I in love or just spaced out??

 
I got lost altdriving to the monthly meeting of UFOG. 
I can't find a community college in the suburbs, yet I'm supposed to believe aliens travel billions of light years across infinite vastness of outer space and land in your yard.  On purpose.
 
UFOG is the Unidentified Flying Object Group.  And this is not my first visit.  Call me crazy. 
    Last year I listened to Ron H. of Molalla, a normal-enough-looking guy, talk about the time he saw alt a 50-foot red ball hovering over his car, as he drove down Highway 213.
    In the next few days, beautiful, wrinkless humanoids visited him in his living room.  In 1982, the aliens said the United States was headed toward nuclear war... within three years.
    That's when Ron first went public with his experiences.  His phone was tapped, he said, and his mail intercepted.  Visitors - government types, think men in black - stopped by his place of business.
    The aliens told Ron they want humans to continue to live on Earth (how generous!)  But, if we destroy ourselves, then, well, the planet will be re-populated by you-know-who.
    They are not gods, more like science officers working on a specific project.
    And we are it.
 
Ms. Layne D., a hypnotherapist, has never personally experienced a UFO contact.  But a number of her patients have.
    Like the woman who was visited by a little man.  After some testing, she gave him "one of her eggs."
    Another patient, it seems, was not a normal female, but the offspring of her mother and an alien entity.
    Probably answered the wrong Personals ad.
 
By now, you are doubtlessly wondering, DO SPACE FOLKS FOOL AROUND?
    This month's program is entitled "Alien Abduction for Crossbreeding Purposes."  A total of 428 homo sapiens showed up.  Snicker if you must.          But, given the sheer number of planets OUT THERE, anyone who plays the national lottery should probably believe in UFOs.
 
Initially, Bruce S. thought his experiences were nothing more than very unusual dreams.  Then, just a year ago, sleeping in a mobile home in Matena, Washington, the bearded, burly Bruce awoke, glanced out his window and saw a UFO.  His first.
    He tried to move, but couldn't.  When he finally forced his right hand to lift off the bed, the spaceship disappeared.  Blinked off.
    The next three days, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, fully aroused.  He just knew there was an alien woman out in the woods behind the house.  He knew she'd come in, if he asked.
    "I felt debauched, so I went out to the kitchen and made some tea."
 
Bruce told his therapist about his sexual longings for a space female.  The counselor pointed out that his personal life - he was going through a divorce - was not fulfilling his needs, so his subsconscious was creating an imaginary love interest.
    Bruce wanted to believe this was true.
    Then one night - accompanied by "two little guys" - an alien woman showed up in Bruce's bedroom.  She - he calls her his honeybun - was about 5' 6", naked except for a black wig.  "Not bad looking," with very wierd eyes.  (Sounds just like a lady I used to date.)
    She comes into his bedroom in the middle of the night... romantic music up, fade to black.alt
 
Soon thereafter, Bruce heard the story of another man who'd had experiences just like his own.  Bruce burst into tears.  Emotion, relief, flowed out.
    "Those tears are my proof," he said.  "I knew then that my alien sex life was real."
    Whew!  I suddenly had an incredible urge for a cigarette. alt And I don't even smoke.
    I was willing to take the man's testimony at face value, but then...
 
"I'm proud they picked me," Bruce boasts.  "I've got kids in space."
    But no Earth children.  Go, figure.
    According to a mental voyage he took to a galactic nursery, Bruce has 30 to 40 alien offspring.
    How many mixed-species children in this crossbreeding program, you ask?  Either 340,000 or 34 million.  The message was unclear.
    According to Bruce, the offspring will be the "second generation," which will colonize Earth in 2020-2030.  Around about then.
 
Bruce believes he has been abducted by "the government" - I assume ours - because the Feds want to know what the aliens are up to.  He believes there are underground bases in Los Alamos that are operated jointly by aliens and U.S. authorities.
    He now believes he lost his virginity at age 14 to an alien.
    He also believes his tentmate at Boy Scout Camp was an alien.
    I find myself hoping this was an innocuous coincidence.
 
Do I believe him?
    Well, I was never a Boy Scout.
    To be honest, the idea of spending a week in the hinterlands with a bunch of adolescent males in uniform always seemed, well, alien to me.

 
Posted: Tuesday, February 23, 2010 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other

Wisdom of Wolves  by Twyman Towery

The attitude of the wolf can be summed up simply: it is a constant visualization of success. The collective wisdom of wolves has been progressively programmed into their genetic makeup throughout the centuries. Wolves have mastered the technique of focusing their energies toward the activities that will lead to the accomplishment of their goals.

 Wolves do not aimlessly run around their intended victims, yipping and yapping. They have a strategic plan and execute it through constant communication. When the moment of truth arrives, each understands his role and understands exactly what the pack expects of him.

The wolf does not depend on luck. The cohesion, teamwork and training of the pack determines whether the pack lives or dies.

There is a silly maxim in some organizations that everyone, to be a valuable member, must aspire to be the leader. This is personified by the misguided CEO who says he only hires people who say they want to take his job. Evidently, this is supposed to ensure that the person has ambition, courage, spunk, honesty, drive - whatever. In reality, it is simply a contrived situation, with the interviewee jumping through the boss's hoops. It sends warnings of competition and one-upmanship throughout the organization rather than signals of cooperation, teamwork and loyalty.

Everyone does not strive to be the leader in the wolf pack. Some are consummate hunters or caregivers or jokesters, but each seems to gravitate to the role he does best. This is not to say there are not challenges to authority, position and status - there are. But each wolf's role begins emerging from playtime as a pup and refines itself through the rest of its years.

The wolf's attitude is always based upon the question, "What is best for the pack?" This is in marked contrast to us humans, who will often sabotage our organizations, families or businesses, if we do not get what we want.

 Wolves are seldom truly threatened by other animals. By constantly engaging their senses and skills, they are practically unassailable. They are masters of planning for the moment of opportunity to present itself, and when it does, they are ready to act.

 Because of training, preparation, planning, communication and a preference for action, the wolf's expectation is always to be victorious. While in actuality this is true only 10 percent of the time or less, the wolf's attitude is always that success will come -and it does.

Posted: Friday, February 19, 2010 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
Another true story from the Wild Dog's past.
 
11 a.m.
In the morning.
A sizzling, steamy Sunday in a scorching summer.
Hot. Humid. Hot.  Humid.
Real hot.  Real humid.
 
I walk into the house after a ten-mile run.
I'm all sweaty, dripping on the hardwood floors.
I hear my girlfriend on the phone
with one of her girlfriends.
These are really attractive women.
Both in their forties. 
Both feminists.
 
I strip out of my wet clothes.
My girlfriend laughs.
And she says, "String him along.
Meanwhile, you'll get your brains humped out,
which is all you're really looking for."
 
I get a tall beer out of the refrigerator.
 
"Cheat all you want," my girlfriend advises.
She jumps to her feet
and starts waving her empty hand in the air
like a preacher on the television.
"What he doesn't know
won't hurt him."
 
I go take a cold shower.alt
Posted: Wednesday, February 17, 2010 - 1 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
There was a blind girl who hated

herself

because she was blind
. She hated

everyone, except her loving boyfriend.

He was always
there for her. She told

her boyfriend, 'If I could only see


the world, I will marry you.'


One day, someone donated a pair of

eyes to her.. When the bandages


came off, she was able to see

everything, including her
boyfriend.

He asked her,'Now that you can see the

world, will you marry me?' The
girl

looked at her boyfriend and saw that he

was blind. The
sight of his closed

eyelids shocked her. She hadn't

expected
that. The thought of looking at

them the rest of her life
led her to

refuse to marry him..



Her boyfriend left in tears and days

later

wrote a note to her
saying: 'Take good

care of your eyes, my dear, for before


they were yours, they were mine.'



This is how the human brain often

works when our status changes.


Only a very few remember what life was

like before, and who
was always by

their side in the most painful

situations.


Life Is a Gift .

Today before you say an unkind word -

Think of someone who can't speak..


Before you complain about the taste of

your food - Think of someone
who has

nothing to eat..


Before you complain about your

husband or wife - Think of someone


who's crying out to GOD for a

companion.



Today before you complain about life -

Think of someone who went


too early to heaven.


Before whining about the distance you

drive, think of someone who
walks the

same distance on their feet.


And when you are tired and complain

about your job - Think of the


unemployed, the disabled, and those

who wish they had your job.


And when depressing thoughts seem to

get you down...

Put a smile on
your face and think:

you're alive and still around
. alt

Posted: Monday, February 15, 2010 - 2 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
I do not think of myself as a gambler.
 
I do not think of myself as a gambler,
despite three marriages, three business start-ups, elephant racing,
drunk driving, stock market short selling, bar fights, cliff diving,
sports betting, drugs, blind dates....
    I do not think of myself as a gambler, despite some stuff I can't talk about. alt
    I don't much like risk.
 
Risk avoidance seems like a major hindrance to poker success.
    Losing just hurts too much.
    Certainly, losing feels far more painful than winning feels good.
But I realize if I am going to be a winning player -
    and I am going to be - 
I have to learn to take more chances.
 
Psychology professor Elke Weber said something helpful.
    "Attraction to risk is not an innate trait that some people have and others don't.  Mostly we're chance-takers in some areas of our lives and not in others."
    Which suggests to me I can learn to be more daring.  In poker at least.
    "The difference," Professor Weber continues, "is in what we perceive to be risky.  For example, you might take fewer risks in a certain aspect of your life, but not because you're more scared, but because you see a greater potential downside.  It's all about perspective.  Most rock climbers think rock climbing is pretty safe.  People who don't climb think it's pretty dangerous."
    Drunks don't seem to think drunk driving is dangerous.  But then they're not thinking.
 
    Maybe I think too much. 
    Maybe I think too much about losing.
    It can't be the money.  My wife spends more in one afternoon's worth of shopping than I lose at the tables in a bad month.
    I think I just hate to lose.
 
    But I'm learning.
    I'm learning, if you're afraid to lose,
    you have no chance of winning.
Posted: Friday, February 12, 2010 - 1 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
Okay, it's an e-mail.  But your life will be better for reading it. - JDW
by the way, new article appears here: http://www.grinderschool.com/poker-strategy-article-job-hunting-and-poker.shtml

 He was the kind of guy some love to hate.  Always in a good mood, always with something positive to say.
When someone would ask him how he was doing, he'd reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins."
Seeing this style really made me

curious,

so one day I went up and asked him, 'I

don't get it!'


'You can't be a positive person all of the

time.  How do you do it?'

He replied, 'Each morning I wake up and

say to myself, you have two choices today.  You can


choose to be in a good mood
or you can choose to be in a bad

mood.  
I choose to be in a good mood..'

Each time something bad happens, I can
choose to be a victim or...

I can choose to learn from it  I choose to
learn from it..


Every time someone comes to me

complaining, I can choose to accept

their complaining or...I can point out the

positive side of life.  

I choose the positive side of life.

'Yeah, right, it's not that easy,' I

protested.

When you cut away all the junk, every

situation is a choice.  

You choose how you react to

situations.  

You choose how people affect your

mood....


You choose to be in a good mood or bad
mood.  

The bottom line:  It's your choice how


you live your life.'


I reflected on what he said.  Soon

hereafter, I left the that industry to start

my own business.  We lost touch, but I

often thought about him when I made a

choice about life instead of reacting to

it.


Several years later, I heard he was

involved in a serious accident, falling

some 60 feet from a communications

tower.


After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of

intensive care, he was released from the
hospital with rods placed in his back.


I saw him about six months after the

accident.


When I asked him how he was, he

replied,

'If I were any better, I'd be

twins....Wanna see my scars?'


I declined to see his wounds, but I did

ask him
what had gone through his mind
as the accident took place.


'The first thing that went through my

mind was the well-being of my soon-to-

be-born daughter,' he replied.  'Then, as

I lay on the ground, I remembered that I

had two choices:  I could choose to live

or.....I could choose to die.  I chose to

live.'


'Weren't you scared?  Did you lose

consciousness?'  I asked.


He continued, '...the paramedics were

great.


They kept telling me I was going to be

fine.  But when they wheeled me into the
ER and I saw the expressions on the

faces of the doctors and nurses, I got

really scared.  In their eyes, I read 'he's

a dead man'.  I knew I needed to take

action.'


'What did you do?' I asked.


'Well, there was a big burly nurse alt

shouting questions at me,' said John .  

'She asked if I was allergic to anything.

'Yes, I replied.'  The doctors and nurses

stopped working as they waited for my

reply.  I took a deep breath and yelled,

'Gravity.''


Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am

choosing to live.  

Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'


He lived, thanks to the skill of his

doctors, but also because of his

amazing attitude....I learned from him

that every day we have the choice to live
fully..

Attitude, after all, is everything.
 
Each day has enough trouble of its own.'  

Matthew 6:34
  


Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will worry about itself.  


'Yes, it is,' he said.  'Life is all about choices.  
Posted: Monday, February 8, 2010 - 3 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
Some notes from The Wild Dog Archives.
 
I'm standing there... trying on asbestos jumpsuits and asbestos helmets and asbestos boots and asbestos gloves and an air pack and a gas mask. 
    Still, I am thinking something is missing. 
    What, no asbestos underwear?
    Somebody hands me a "Hold No Harm" form, which The City seems to think will protect it while I attend Fire School.
    I signed it.  If I am merely injured - trust me - I'll still sue.  Somebody should definitely have stepped in and stopped me from doing something this stupid.
    If I die, I am coming back from wherever totally charred humans go when their bones turn to briquettes.  And I'll put razor blades on the poles they slide on down to the firetrucks. 
    You know the poles mean.
 
We are welcomed by a man in uniform.
    I look good in a uniform.  I also look good with many days off and a secure job with great benefits and a generous retirement plan.
    "Next, we are going to have you put on a turn-out, a flame retardant suit and have you race up two flights of stair in a burning building, find the dummy in the smoke and race back down with her - all 107 pounds - on your back."
    HA!  I'm thinking, no, you're not.  No way.  'Cause then I'd be the dummy in the smoke.
    Call me crazy, but I have a predilection against flames.  I tend not to rush toward them.  My parents, bless their hearts, taught me to head in the opposite direction.
 
The guy is still talking.
    I don't pay attention to a couple of gruesome, but nonetheless amusing, incidents that have occurred with this organization in the past.
    "Today, there will be no mistakes," he continues.
    I am heartened.  Can't tell you just how much.
    Okay.  A lot.
    "Thirty-two firefighters have died in the line of duty in this city."
    He might have waited until after the day's activities before sharing that tidbit.
    I am thinking, you hardly ever meet an old firefighter.
 
The first event is Ladder Climbing.
    "We'll be going up to the top and then doing a 360-degree turn."
    We will?  You can't even see the top, which seems to disappear into a cloud.
    The instructor offers a comforting thought to me and my partner, Linda.
"There nothing to be scared of."
    It's a 100-foot ladder. 
    I let Linda go first.
    "Can we go higher?," I hear her ask, as she starts climbing.
 
Extrication was cool.  We got to use the Hurst Tool - known as the Jaws of Life - to take the roof off a 1975 Mercury Marquis. These powered pryers exert 12,000 pounds of pressure.  That's six tons.
    The instructor explains, "I've never seen anything withstand this machine."
    Later.  "It will go where it wants to go.  Don't fight the tool.  Go with it."
    Always good advice.  Don't fight the tool.
 
Next... The LIVE BURN ROOM.  Frankly, that's three words I have never before seen amicably linked together.
    "Temperatures can reach 2,000 degrees inside a building building," the instructor says.
    That's about 1,928 good reasons not to enter one, I say.
    It's dark.  Except for the flames.  It's smoky, too.
    My face mask is fogged up.
    I don't have medical insurance.
    "Okay, get down on your knees," we're ordered, "and crawl towards the fire."
    I let Linda go first.
 
    "Jack D."
    "What?!?!"
    "You forgot the hose."
    Right.
 
Next is a lecture about why it isn't stupid for firemen to knock out all the windows and chop a huge hole in the roof.
    Sometimes they look like they are trying the house instead of saving it.
This is ventilating.
    So, we are given an ax and directed to chop a huge hole in a roof.  Real axe, simulated roof.
    "One of the best things about this job," says a younger member of the faculty, "is you can break crap."
    I went first.
 
During Apparatus Familiarization, we get a tour of one of the newest fire trucks, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. 
    I ask if I can take it for a spin.
    They say "No."
    Well, then, can I just hit the siren a couple of times?
    We learn maybe 70% of all fire runs are for medical emergencies... car wrecks, baby deliveries, drug overdoses.  All of the firemen are Emergency Medical Technicians.  Paramedics.  Men and women we can count on.
 
Next..what we've all been waiting for... the SMOKE MAZE IN THE BASEMENT.
Seven minutes in there.  About the time it takes to jog a mile. 
    A lifetime, it might as well be.
    The remainder of one perhaps.
    We step through a trap door and take a ladder underground.  Where we end up is a place you wouldn't hope to find your worst enemy.
    I let Linda go first.
    The instructions are to put your right hand on the wall and your left hand on the firefighting student in front of you.
    Listen to our leader.  He'll tell you when to turn, when to duck, etc. 
    I am thinking I'd like to know more about 'etc.'
    I've got a gas mask on, a helmet, flaps over my ears.  And I can't hear a word the man is saying.
    I can't see doo-doo.
    Then my right hand loses the wall. 
    And the person under my left hand moves off.
    And I am alone.
    By myself.
    I can smell oil burning billows of smoke.
    I suck it up and tell myself, "If Linda can do this, then so can I."
    Then she came back and led me out.
 
    At the end of the day, there was something of a final exam.
    I am part of a Search And Rescue Team. 
    We're supposed to rush into a burning building, run up a couple of flights of stairs, find the dummy in the smoke and carry her out to safety.
    I went first.
 
But - surprise! - there was no second day at firefighters' school for me.
    That's right.  
    Linda's on her own. 
Posted: Thursday, February 4, 2010 - 3 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other

       
       A woman awakes during the night to find that her

husband was not in their bed.  She puts on her robe and

goes downstairs to look for him.  She finds him sitting at

the kitchen table, with a cup of coffee in front of him.  He

appears deep in thought, just staring at the wall.
      
She watches as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a

sip of coffee. 

"What's the matter, dear?," she whispers as she steps

into the room, "Why are you down here at this time of

night?".
      
The husband looks up, "Do you remember twenty years

ago when we were dating, and you were only 16?" he

asks solemnly.  
     
The wife is touched to tears, thinking that her husband is

so caring and sensitive.
      
"Yes, I do," she replies.  
      
The husband pauses.  The words are not coming easily. 
      
"Do you remember when your father caught us in the

back seat of my car making love?"  
      
"Yes, I remember," says the wife, lowering herself into a

chair beside him.  
      
The husband continues..."Do you remember when he

shoved a shotgun in my face and said, "Either you marry

my daughter, or I will send you to jail for 20 years?'"
      
"Yes, I remember that, too" she replies softly.
      
He wipes another tear from his cheek and says..."I would

have gotten out today!"alt
Posted: Sunday, January 31, 2010 - 2 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
 
Group of 40-year-old buddies discuss and discuss where they should meet for dinner.
Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Westside Tavern restaurant because the waitresses there have low cut blouses and nice breasts.alt
 
10 years later, at 50 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss and discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Westside Tavern because the food there is very good and the wine selection is good also.

10 years later at 60 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss and discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Westside Tavern because they can eat there in peace and quiet and the restaurant is smoke-free.

10 years later, at 70 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss and discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Westside Tavern because the restaurant is wheel chair-accessible and they even have an elevator.

10 years later, at 80 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss and discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Westside Tavern because they have never been there before.
Posted: Tuesday, January 26, 2010 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
Poker has gone to the dogs in Florida.  The greyhound tracks all now offer poker.  Which is good.  Because betting on the dogs is just gambling.
    Of course, you don't have to bet to enjoy a day at the track.  Nobody's going to force you to walk up to the pari-mutuel window and ante up, say, $6 for a three-dog trifecta.
    Not wagering, however, has all the flavor of twin beds on a honeymoon.  Something's missing.
 
Fifteen minutes after arriving at the kennel club, I got my first tip.  A somewhat disheveled, grey-faced guy with grey stubble pointed to Kelso's Minnie in the 12th race, the Budweiser Marathon.
    "Long shot.  I can say no more."
     He said no more.alt
                     
Like all savvy players, I have a system.  For example, in the 4th race, I bet on Dog Gone.  I'll tell you why.  Because he had the word "dog" in his name.  He's not trying to be something he isn't.  Which is how you succeed in this life, regardless of the species. 
    I tend to ignore racers named, for example, Garfield The Cat or Arsenio Hall.  Name just one fast schizophrenic you know personally.
     Try to pick a dog with a name which has a special meaning to you.  Look for a karmic relationship.  Yukon Teeny in the 8th race reminded me of Yukon Jack; not only includes my name but also an adult libation of which I am fond.
    No connection is too tenuous.  I remember the all-time winningest dog in history was D.D. Jackie.
 
I like black dogs.  Black is my favorite color and black dogs just look like winners.  Fast, even when standing still. 
    Norma Louise, who believed in numerology, studied my charts.  She said "6" would bring me the best luck.  So, the #6 gets extra consideration.  (By the way, I haven't seen the woman in 20 years and "6" still has not won anything for me.)
 
I don't like betting the favorite.  It's too easy and the payoff always seems insignificant.  The favorite is the choice of most of the other gamblers and they are your enemies.  Considering the average IQ, by definition, is 100, I always opt for the road less traveled.
    Investors can observe this same tip when playing the stock market.  Avoid the pack mentality in all things.
 
If you see a racer pause to relieve himself enroute to the starting line, give that animal special attention.  (Don't stare.)  He's definitely going to be lighter and probably feeling a little frisky.
    If the dog is black, coming out of the 6th hole, following a B.M., and a long shot, you can be fairly confident.
    Back up the truck.
    Bet the kid's college fund.  Hey, that's what scholarships are for.
 
I call my system The Divine Concept Of Universal Symmetry.  Or, for short, "the hunch method."  For real short, "wild guess."
    Seems to work about as well as anybody else's system.  I know, 'cause I asked around.
    "The best system," I'm told by Duane, "is to sit on your wallet."
    He then went on to explain what he does when he's in a gambling mood.      "Take the favorite and wheel it with the rest of the field.  Then, if the people's choice is running the way he should, you get half the trifecta."  It's a $56 wager and it's called a 1-All-All.
 
Pete plays the first race.  If he loses, he doesn't bet again.  Pete was finished for the day when I arrived.alt
 
By the 8th race, I was down $40.  On paper.  Then I picked Revelation Guy, whose sire was Black Aztec.  Picked two other black dogs, EOB Velvet and Texark Andy. Velvet reminded me of an adult libation and I once had a dog named Andy. (Andy was so wonderful, when he died, the local newspaper published his obituary.  True story.)
    The trio finished in exactly that order, with a $2 trifecta paying $384.20.
    So much for science.
 
I was still suffering from the 'if-onlys" when the 10th race arrived.  I picked Montongo Bob, the only black animal in the competition.  Barry's Boy, because of Dave, the Pulitzer-winning humorist, and Cardiac Shock, who's black & white.
    I actually wrote down 8-1-4.  There are witnesses.
    $953.80.  Would've made me well in a hurry.
 
The tip on Kelso Minnie in the 12th?  She finished dead last.
    The bitch could still be running for all I care.  Even if she was the only black dog in the race. 
    After all, I don't gamble - I'm a poker player.
 
Daytona Beach Kennel Club, Daytona Beach Derby Lane, St. Petersburg Ebro Greyhound Park, Ebro (Florida Panhandle) Flagler Greyhound Track, Miami (Near Miami International Airport) Hollywood Greyhound Track, Hollywood
West Palm Beach Sanford-Orlando Kennel Club, Casselberry Tampa Greyhound Track.
Posted: Saturday, January 16, 2010 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other

In my youngeralt days, I used to go to all the gallery openings.  Great place to meet women. 
    And you never had to worry about what to say. 
    You see someone of interest near an artwork and you simply ask, "So, what do you think?"
    Whatever she says, you reply, "Really, I hadn't thought of that."
    And off you go.
 
    So, I'm loitering next to an, ummm, assemblage.  Looks like the guy crashed his 1978 Pinto into a chicken coop, put the debris into a pile, then priced the whole mess high enough to pay for a new car.
    I'm standing there, looking at this stuff, trying to figure out if maybe they hung it upside down.  And this woman - gooood lookin' - comes up to me. 
    "Are you the artist?," she asked.
 
    "Sure, lady," I said, more than a little insulted.  I took a sip of wine.
    "Don't I look just like the kind of chump who would hammer a Ford bumper to a dead tree limb, paint it six shades of black and hang a title on it: In Search Of An Honest Man."
 
    "I thought so.  I bet my girlfriend a glass of wine.  I just knew it."
    She sipped on her own glass.  Obviously not her first.
 
    "Where do you get your ideas?"
Posted: Thursday, January 14, 2010 - 5 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
I swear some of these same people play freerolls.

The Darwin's are out!!!!
Yes, it's that magical time of year again when the Darwin Awards are bestowed, honoring the least evolved among us.

Here is the glorious winner:

1. When his 38. caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder.
He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked.alt

And now, the honorable mentions:

2. The chef at a hotel in  Switzerland lost a finger in a meat cutting machine and after a little shopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company expecting negligence sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and he also lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.

3. A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. Understandably, he shot her.

4. After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from  Harare to  Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies.. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.

5. An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

6. A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20 bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer... $15. [If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?]

7. Seems an  Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly.. He decided that he'd just throw a cinder block through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinder block and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinder block bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious.. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.

8. As a female shopper exited a  New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called 911 immediately, and the woman was able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes, officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."

9. The  Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti ,  Michigan at 5 A.M., flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast... The man, frustrated, walked away. [*A 5-STAR STUPIDITY AWARD WINNER]

10. When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a  Seattle street, he got much more than he bargained for.. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline, but he plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had.

*** Remember.... They walk among us!!!***
 
Posted: Sunday, January 10, 2010 - 2 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
My life as an elephant racer actually lasted only a single afternoon in the summer of 1989.  It just seemed longer. 
    Some notes from The Wild Dog Archives.
 
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, the circus came to town last week.  Circus Vargas, that is.  Under the world's largest traveling Big Top.  That's circus talk for a tent almost large enough to cover a football field or one month's trade deficit with Japan in $20 bills.  An amazingly big show, supported by four monstrous center poles, each 56 feet high, and 24,478 feet of steel cable and manila rope.
 
Amazing, too, was the call that came the day before the circus opened.
    "Jack D. Welch, please."
    "Speaking."
    "Mr. Welch, this is Sharon Brown with Circus Vargas.  Your name was suggested to us for the media personality elephant race."
 
Miss Brown had a really sexy voice.  She sounded like slender redhead who would wear tailored suits and drive a baby-blue Mercedes convertible with vanity plates that said GOTCHA.  I didn't understand what she wanted exactly, but I agreed to do whatever she asked.  I hung up the phone and rushed to Peggy Diane with the news.
    "What's a media personality elephant?," she wanted to know.
 
I found out when we showed up at the Multnomah Exposition Center in North Portland.  It was the PACHYDERM 500. A dozen or two local media types had agreed to actually climb aboard a live elephant and see how fast a trio of massive mastodons could move across concrete-hard parking lot.  While carrying an actual adult human being.  Who should probably know better.
   
Except for one young TV newscaster - who looked positively fetching in a safari helmet and an outfit straight from the Banana Republic catalog - I didn't recognize anybody. 
    I met a bunch of disc jockeys; I understand now why they're on radio.
    All of a sudden I start to wonder just exactly how many folks turned down the siren-like entreaties of Ms. Brown.  Before my name came up, you gotta figure a lot of important people said, "Sorry, I'd like to, but that's the day I plan to spray-paint my underwear."
    On the other hand, I figured this could be the opportunity of a lifetime.  Survive this occasion and I'd be able to scratch ELEPHANT RACING off my list of things to do.
 
I began my pre-race preparations by eavesdropping as one deejay tried to bribe an animal trainer. 
    "You've got to do it on your own," I overheard the trainer say.  "Headpiece, balance, butt and legs... that's all you've got.  You're on your own.  They can do up to 40 miles per hour.  No guts, no glory."
    No helmets, no training wheels, no safety net. 
    To be honest, I was expecting some sort of chair atop a totally trained domesticated beast who actually enjoyed the concept.  I found instead the largest of all land animals, a 10-feet tall, 11,000 pound giant of the jungle who was having a tough day in a strange town.
 
I had been assured these animals were vegetarians.  I comforted myself with that thought as I watched the radio personalities dicker among themselves.  They actually do talk a lot.
    "I work drivetime.  I should go first."
    "I should have the big elephant.  Our ratings are higher."
    Me, I want to go last.  I want a small elephant.  I want to live.  I want to know why we have to do this on pavement.  (Wouldn't barkdust or grass or padded rubber mats make more sense?) 
    I want a graceful way out of this.
 
"The least big one is a boy," Peggy Diane rushes up with this news bulletin.  She's gone behind - and perhaps under - the elephants to check them out.  The woman is curious about such things.  Don't ask me why.
    Meanwhile, several heats have taken place.  No one had died.  No one has even been hurled to the pavement and stomped flatter than a frozen tortilla. 
    Not yet anyway.  It still looks more dangerous than electric eel juggling.
 
"Jack D. Welch."  You're up."
    I pretended not to hear.  Perhaps they mean someone else.
    "Do you want me to go instead?," Peggy Diane asked hopefully.  "It looks like a lot of fun. "
    The woman always knows just which button to push.
 
I...ever...so...slowly...moved...to...the...trio...of...turf whales, figuring - correctly - the other riders would rush to the faster elephants.
    This was the final heat and only the the winner would have to ride again.  I got Lotti, a former champion in her first race in six months.  Today she'd finished dead last every time and was clearly not in top form.
 
The trainer poked at Lotti with a spiked club and ordered her around like a puppy.  "Down, down!!"
    I stepped on her left leg and swung up behind her ears.  I watched my knuckles turn white as I gripped at the headpiece. 
    I watched her eyes bug out a little as I squeezed her neck with my thighs.  Squeezed like my life depended on it.  Which I think it did.
    I decided I could do this.  I told myself, "You can do this."
    "Up, up!"  I almost fell off.
    And before I could regain my balance, some clown - he was a real clown, red nose and big floppy shoes - hollered, "Go!!"
    So, of course, we won by a trunk.
    I'd made the Finals.  Finals???  Turns out I had won an earlier heat and completely forgotten about it. 
    I think I blacked out.
 
For the Finals, I took the animal nobody else wanted. 
    Col. Joe is the biggest elephant in Circus Vargas.  If not the world. 
    He's got huge tusks.  I can't say it enough.  He's got huge tusks.
    Getting aboard the Colonel was kinda like climbing the outside of a brick apartment building.  I didn't mount this beast, I scaled it.  When I got behind his head and he stood up, I felt like I was looking out of a second-story window.
    Don't believe anybody who tells you such an event is over in the blink of one eye.  We're talking a LIFETIME.
    Which probably explains the earlier blackout.
 
Of course, at this point, I didn't fear death. 
    I was focusing primarily on partial paralysis, when another clown hollered. 
    Forty-five teeth-rattling bounces later, we're across the finish line and I know two things.  I survived and I won.
    Call me The Prince of Pachyderm Perambulation.  At last, I've found my niche in life.
    A beautiful redhead in a tailored suit gave me a trophy - a golden shovel - and Peggy Diane gave me a big hug.  She said she was "damn proud."
    My first elephant racing groupie.
 
I started thinking this could be the break I've been looking for.
    Started thinking about the nationals.  Where the various media personality elephant racers from around the country gather to crown a grand champion.
    Turns out they don't have an event like that.
    Okay then, an endorsement contract with NIKE.  Maybe a helmet with a swoosh and my initials. 
    Yeah, that's it.  A gun-metal gray helmet with my complete name and a pink elephant decal.
 
They never called.alt
 
Some people may question my claims to elephant racing stardom. 
But I still have the trophy. - JDW
 
Posted: Tuesday, January 5, 2010 - 3 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. - John 8:7.

 1. Goal Setting. Analyze yourself. Be brutally honest. Where are you now? What have you done to arrive here? What have you done wrong? Done right? What are your defeats? What are your victories?

Now that you know where you are and how you got here, you must explore a new route to a new destination. What are your goals? What do you want to achieve? Are you capable of reaching that level of performance and satisfaction? What are your goals?

Write down your answers. Be specific.

One key to a successful poker life is understanding what makes you happy as a poker player. What makes me happy is ending the month with more money than I started with. A simple goal, which may be a leak itself, as I am often hesitant to take necessary risks.  This goal is also insufficiently specific. Specifically, my goal is to show a $1000 profit monthly.

I came across the following example in another player's blog.

10 day goals: (November 21st – 30th) Win 5 nl cash game buyins. Win 10bb's in lhe. Have three consecutive winning sessions of cash games . Win 1 sng mtt. Get to 14,000 fpps on stars. Get to 8,000 ftps on tilt. Play 12 hours of cash. Play 50 sng mtts. Make $200.

Note. This player made $500 in that period. And while his goal was to win just one SNG MTT, he actually won 2 of 22.  Feel free to exceed your goals.

Cash is really just a means of keeping score. Do something with your winnings. Just don't let them sit there. Move up, if you're ready. Take a shot if you are feeling confident. cash out some portion of your BR, if you are ready to do some spending.

Which brings us to rewards.

My big goal is the 2010 WSOP.

 

2. Focus. For my happiness, "playing" poker seems somewhat inappropriate. I work at the game. Every successful, i.e., money-winning, player has worked at the game. And, if you don't keep working, you will soon fall behind. If I am not willing to do my best, I shouldn't sit down at the table.

But I do.

"Concentration is the secret of strength," Emerson explains. Personally, I need to eliminate distractions. The television is invariably playing noisily. Between hands, I am often e-mailing or surfing the internet. One of my changes must be to reduce distractions.

I am multi-tabling as I write this blog. The TV is blaring in the background.

3. Personal Improvement. The better your health, the better you will perform. At virtually every human endeavor. Including poker.

Phil Ivey sprints up and down the hallway in his palatial home. He lifts weighs in his private gym. Assassinato jogs 3 or 4 miles as daily as possible.

Poker may or may not be a sport, but you better get in shape if you want to win on a regular basis.

I recently purchased a fitness-club-quality elliptical trainer which awaits within an arm's reach. I get in a brief "sprint" during five-minute MTT breaks.

I have eliminated all beverages during play except for filtered ice water.

 4. Better Players. Study them. Read their books. Rail their games. Watch their videos. Observe their lifestyles. Listen to what they say. Emulate winners.

"If you want to be a winning player," offers Antonio Esfandiari, "you really have to be one step ahead of the next guy. You have to be really, really determined."

Don't walk the poker road alone. Make friends. Form a sweat group. Share hand histories. Find a mentor. Join a training site.

Become active at Poker Curious.

5. Game Selection. Every time you sit down to play, you better have a reason for being there. First of all, are you ready to play your A-game? Are you confident, prepared, fit, etc? Assuming a positive response, you can maximize your win-rate with proper table selection. No surprise here - the softer the competition, the more you should be able to win. Is the game juicy? Are there players you can exploit?

Deciding when to play and with whom to play are the two most important keys to your poker profitability.

Bonus change to improve your game. William James said, "Act the part and you will become the part." Act as if you are already a better player. And believe it. You are not only skillful but unusually lucky.

Don't berate opponents in the chat box. Stay away from the Bad Beat Forums, because you don't yourself tell bad beat stories.

Think like a top player. Eschew tilt. Take pride in your game.

Set aside time to enjoy with your family. Read a non-poker book, one without too many pictures.

If you become a better person, you will surely become a better poker player.

By the way, I turned off the television. Bach is playing so softly I can hardly hear it.

I am playing better already.alt - JDW

Posted: Friday, January 1, 2010 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
"I'd like to be remembered as a guy who tried - tried to be part of his times, tried to help people communicate with one another, tried to find some decency in his own life, tried to extend himself as a human being."  - Paul Newman
 
THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE. I BELIEVE.....
FUN IS GOOD. AND DOING GOOD FOR OTHERS IS THE MOST FUN YOU CAN HAVE.
GOD EXISTS. AND MIRACLES HAPPEN. AND PRAYER WORKS.
 YESTERDAY'S GONE. TOMORROW'S NOT HERE YET. THERE IS ONLY TODAY AND
 WE CAN EACH MAKE A DIFFERENCE RIGHT NOW. 

 YOUR REACH MUST EXCEED YOUR GRASP. THE SIZE OF YOUR SUCCESS IS
 DETERMINED BY THE SIZE OF YOUR BELIEF.
 A SETBACK IS JUST A SETUP FOR A COMEBACK. ONCE YOU LEARN TO SWIM, IT 
 DOESN'T MATTER HOW DEEP THE WATER IS.
 SUCCESS IS NEVER AN ACCIDENT. THERE ARE FEW THINGS THAT CANNOT BE
 ACHIEVED BY HARD WORK AND SHEER DETERMINATION. 

 WHEN AN IRRESISTIBLE FORCE MEETS AN IMMOVABLE OBJECT, THAT OBJECT WILL
 MOVE. MAYBE NOT FAR, MAYBE NOT FAST, BUT IT WILL MOVE.
 ENVY IS IGNORANCE AND IMITATION IS SUICIDE. WE ARE WHAT WE DO AND
 ALL OF US COULD DO BETTER. 
 VISION WITHOUT ACTION IS A DAYDREAM; ACTION WITHOUT VISION IS A NIGHTMARE.
 YOUR VISION OF WHO (OR WHERE) YOU WANT TO BE IS THE GREATEST ASSET YOU HAVE. 

 THERE ARE NO SHORT CUTS TO ANY PLACE WORTH GOING.
 WITHOUT A GOAL, IT IS  DIFFICULT  SCORE.
 CHANGE SHOULD NOT BE FEARED, BUT EMBRACED.
 ALL CHANGE IS NOT  PROGRESS, ALL PROGRESS IS NOT IMPROVEMENT.
 THE PERSON WHO DOESN'T MAKE MISTAKES IS UNLIKELY TO MAKE ANYTHING.
 OFTEN IT'S RIGHT TO BE WRONG. 

 NOTHING IS BRAIN SURGERY EXCEPT BRAIN SURGERY.
 SOMETIMES YOU'RE THE  PIGEON, SOMETIMES YOU'RE THE STATUE.
 YOU MAKE A LIVING BY WHAT YOU GET; YOU MAKE A LIFE BUT WHAT YOU GIVE. 
 LIVE EACH DAY LIKE YOUR MOTHER, YOUR MINISTER, YOUR DOCTOR
 AND THE POLICE CHIEF  WERE WATCHING. 

 THERE'S A INSTANT BETWEEN WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU AND HOW YOU RESPOND.
 IN THAT INSTANT LIES YOUR FREEDOM AND POWER TO CHOOSE WHAT YOU DO.
 IN THOSE CHOICES  LIE YOUR GROWTH AND HAPPINESS. WHAT CHOICES WILL YOU MAKE?
 IT IS BETTER TO BE IN A POSITION TO HELP OTHERS THAN TO NEED THE HELP OURSELVES. 

 LIFE IS NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT; LIFE IS A CONTACT SPORT.
 WE NEED TO DO MORE. WE MUST.
 THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE.
 WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE?    -    JDW

 
 
Posted: Tuesday, December 29, 2009 - 0 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ]
Category: Other
 
Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you
realize you're wrong.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

There is great need for a sarcasm font.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

Was learning cursive really necessary?

Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty
sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the
person died.  And not just where to send the flowers.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions often make the best stories.

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at
work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything
productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I
don't want to have to restart my movie collection...again.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks
me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page article that I
swear I did not make any changes to.

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not
seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not
to answer when they call.

I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger
and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I
first saw it.

I would rather try to carry ten plastic grocery bags in each hand
than take two trips to bring my groceries in.

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just
nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they
said?

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch three times and still
not know what time it is.

That's all I'm saying....

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