ATL, Airplanes and Generalities
So we're flush with winnings -- and I'm working out angles figuring out if the statute of limitation of years of losses at Bally's from earlier in the decade is enough to still secure me a comped room for the next week, in hopes of parlaying SuperGirl's great win into WSOP fame and fortune.
But before I can say "King Size, no smoking", I get a call from the management office which handles a rental property we own in the Atlanta, GA area.
Turns out our tenant and the local neighborhood INS bureau have gotten into a little disagreement about VISA qualifications. One thing led to another, and deportation orders were issued, leaving my tenant dreading a return flight to Amsterdam, and my property lacking a reliable source of rent.
Since the management company doesn't do a stellar job in cleaning and showing the property, we thought we'd do the responsible thing (man, I am getting old), and spend some of SuperGirl's loot to fly to Atlanta and fix-up our place to maximize rental visibility & opportunity.
We spend the last week in ATL fixing-up our property and buying SuperGirl some very nice shoes! She deserved them. We got back Wednesday.
We bought the 10th anniversary edition of Casino. I'll be posting my review shortly. FYI, save your money.
On our flight back, we were offered an upgrade to First Class for $150. We've seen Delta's First Class and decided that it was a bad bet. Besides, we thought, since we'd reserved the window and isle, chances were pretty good that the middle seat would remain vacant. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
A standby passenger enroute to Albuquerque hit triple 7's, scoring the seat in between us!
Now this cat must have been Will Smith's #1 fan and as luck would have it, "Hitch", the movie was being offered as the flight's feature attraction (honorable mention to the 85% pasturized cheese spread & crackers).
This dude could barely contain himself. He could NOT stop laughing. Not just ha-ha, he-he, ho-ho ... I'm talking high octane, appendix-crushing, grab your asthma pump hysteria.
Even though most people took advantage of the 3+ hour flight to sleep, this guy laughed, giggled, clapped and rioted savagely in his middle seat. I wanted to smash him in the face with my Coke can, and gauge his eyes out with my mini bourbon bottle.
The flight was one of those flights that make you reconsider buying Greyhound stock.
Pilot would be heard from time to time dazzling us with the most useless information you'd care to hear about at 35K feet and in the depths of night. He spoke at length about the various places over which we were traveling, pointed out intriguing time-change differences between states and how Arizona was "idiosyncratically defiant" in this regard; he'd conclude all his soliloquies by reminding us to "sit back" (now that is funny) and enjoy the flight...
We were periodically kept abreast about longitudes, latitudes, wind directions, barometric and temperature readings, altitude dips, turbulence and velocity changes; we'd be informed frequently that we could "roam about the cabin" though it were the pilot's own little NeverLand Ranch (minus inappropriate fondling of course). If there was such a thing as "The Weather Channel" ride at Disney, this would be it.
Once "Hitch" ended, and the LSD slowly wore off, the cat in the middle seat slowly slumped into a self-induced coma and remained quietly twitching the rest of the way. Unfortunately, the Pilot never grew tired of his own voice and pretty much refused to shut-up the entire trip.
His swan song speech as we landed lasted longer than the taxi in from the runway. I think he mentioned something about getting all the passengers' email addresses so that he could maintain pen-pal relationships with the lot of us captivated by his charm.
Anyway....... I'm back now, getting caught-up with the world at large, wondering if SuperGirl might kick me some of her winnings to find an online satellite in which to participate and dare-I-say win?... In the meantime... Interesting news I've come across:
Trying to stay on the same page as Warren Buffet? You'd better short sell your greenbacks then. A good friend of mine brought my attention to the this unflattering article painting an ugly outlook of our $.
A European bookmaker took a dive on Michael Cambell winning Golf's US Open. Seems they had him listed originally at 100-1 with the biggest bet being placed at $30, but many other small time bets. His dad apparently had the chance of betting him at 150-1 but didn't take it... I'm sure he's just as happy today.
Scroll down to the end of an interesting little write-up about Senator Jon (Daddy of the Federal & Wager Act) Kyle and the Mob for a nice tonic for tired eyes.
By the way, ever worry about getting busted by the Feds for violating aforementioned wire and wager act? Don't.
St. Malachy, a Pope from a thousand years ago known for his prophesies outlining the reign of the last 10 Popes, predicted this current Pope (and his name) being the penultimate one, laying the necessary foundation for "Peter the Roman" to ascend (Satan) atop the Catholic Church, bringing about the end of days.
Barry Greenstein looks to give Phil Ivey the best rating among all of his Poker colleagues. Also interesting that he'd risk compiling such an analysis given what surely must be his daily engagements with each of them...but then again why not? He's a made guy.
I'm getting ready to post a very big rebuttal to "The Christian Poker Pro" (soon to be married incidentally). Please, if anyone can explain it/him to me, or tell me it's a joke that I just don't get, stop me ahead of time before I alienate a very large number of readers for-ever, and permanently risk leaving my foot in my mouth/on my keyboard.
Tim Duncan MVP of the finals?? Whatever. Next time I underperform at my job when my employer needs me the most, I'll offer 60% of my effort, ten try to justify a bonus by sending my boss the DVD of this year's finals.
Selling your house? Worried about the housing bubble or your HELOC rate creeping up on you like that attractive Keno vig or that HoldEm rake? If you read the Economist, you would be!
A bien-tot!
But before I can say "King Size, no smoking", I get a call from the management office which handles a rental property we own in the Atlanta, GA area.
Turns out our tenant and the local neighborhood INS bureau have gotten into a little disagreement about VISA qualifications. One thing led to another, and deportation orders were issued, leaving my tenant dreading a return flight to Amsterdam, and my property lacking a reliable source of rent.
Since the management company doesn't do a stellar job in cleaning and showing the property, we thought we'd do the responsible thing (man, I am getting old), and spend some of SuperGirl's loot to fly to Atlanta and fix-up our place to maximize rental visibility & opportunity.
We spend the last week in ATL fixing-up our property and buying SuperGirl some very nice shoes! She deserved them. We got back Wednesday.
We bought the 10th anniversary edition of Casino. I'll be posting my review shortly. FYI, save your money.
On our flight back, we were offered an upgrade to First Class for $150. We've seen Delta's First Class and decided that it was a bad bet. Besides, we thought, since we'd reserved the window and isle, chances were pretty good that the middle seat would remain vacant. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
A standby passenger enroute to Albuquerque hit triple 7's, scoring the seat in between us!
Now this cat must have been Will Smith's #1 fan and as luck would have it, "Hitch", the movie was being offered as the flight's feature attraction (honorable mention to the 85% pasturized cheese spread & crackers).
This dude could barely contain himself. He could NOT stop laughing. Not just ha-ha, he-he, ho-ho ... I'm talking high octane, appendix-crushing, grab your asthma pump hysteria.
Even though most people took advantage of the 3+ hour flight to sleep, this guy laughed, giggled, clapped and rioted savagely in his middle seat. I wanted to smash him in the face with my Coke can, and gauge his eyes out with my mini bourbon bottle.
The flight was one of those flights that make you reconsider buying Greyhound stock.
Pilot would be heard from time to time dazzling us with the most useless information you'd care to hear about at 35K feet and in the depths of night. He spoke at length about the various places over which we were traveling, pointed out intriguing time-change differences between states and how Arizona was "idiosyncratically defiant" in this regard; he'd conclude all his soliloquies by reminding us to "sit back" (now that is funny) and enjoy the flight...
We were periodically kept abreast about longitudes, latitudes, wind directions, barometric and temperature readings, altitude dips, turbulence and velocity changes; we'd be informed frequently that we could "roam about the cabin" though it were the pilot's own little NeverLand Ranch (minus inappropriate fondling of course). If there was such a thing as "The Weather Channel" ride at Disney, this would be it.
Once "Hitch" ended, and the LSD slowly wore off, the cat in the middle seat slowly slumped into a self-induced coma and remained quietly twitching the rest of the way. Unfortunately, the Pilot never grew tired of his own voice and pretty much refused to shut-up the entire trip.
His swan song speech as we landed lasted longer than the taxi in from the runway. I think he mentioned something about getting all the passengers' email addresses so that he could maintain pen-pal relationships with the lot of us captivated by his charm.
Anyway....... I'm back now, getting caught-up with the world at large, wondering if SuperGirl might kick me some of her winnings to find an online satellite in which to participate and dare-I-say win?... In the meantime... Interesting news I've come across:
Trying to stay on the same page as Warren Buffet? You'd better short sell your greenbacks then. A good friend of mine brought my attention to the this unflattering article painting an ugly outlook of our $.
A European bookmaker took a dive on Michael Cambell winning Golf's US Open. Seems they had him listed originally at 100-1 with the biggest bet being placed at $30, but many other small time bets. His dad apparently had the chance of betting him at 150-1 but didn't take it... I'm sure he's just as happy today.
Scroll down to the end of an interesting little write-up about Senator Jon (Daddy of the Federal & Wager Act) Kyle and the Mob for a nice tonic for tired eyes.
By the way, ever worry about getting busted by the Feds for violating aforementioned wire and wager act? Don't.
St. Malachy, a Pope from a thousand years ago known for his prophesies outlining the reign of the last 10 Popes, predicted this current Pope (and his name) being the penultimate one, laying the necessary foundation for "Peter the Roman" to ascend (Satan) atop the Catholic Church, bringing about the end of days.
Barry Greenstein looks to give Phil Ivey the best rating among all of his Poker colleagues. Also interesting that he'd risk compiling such an analysis given what surely must be his daily engagements with each of them...but then again why not? He's a made guy.
I'm getting ready to post a very big rebuttal to "The Christian Poker Pro" (soon to be married incidentally). Please, if anyone can explain it/him to me, or tell me it's a joke that I just don't get, stop me ahead of time before I alienate a very large number of readers for-ever, and permanently risk leaving my foot in my mouth/on my keyboard.
Tim Duncan MVP of the finals?? Whatever. Next time I underperform at my job when my employer needs me the most, I'll offer 60% of my effort, ten try to justify a bonus by sending my boss the DVD of this year's finals.
Selling your house? Worried about the housing bubble or your HELOC rate creeping up on you like that attractive Keno vig or that HoldEm rake? If you read the Economist, you would be!
A bien-tot!
posted by stefNfloyd | 1:38 PM
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