Summer colds are never fun. I have no idea how I acquired a cold. Maybe it was because Nicky likes to steal the covers at night. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I haven't been sleeping much the past week. Too must festering inside my head. My immune system was low. And hanging around that stupid cat when I'm allergic to cats might have done me in. Regardless, I spent Thursday absolutely miserable. Sinus headaches. Runny noses. Constant sneezing. Utter misery.
The one thing that I cannot write through is a nasal drip. Gravity prevails and I lose. In the past I attempted to write with tissues shoved up my nose. That is a temporary solution but after a few minutes the rags inside my nostrils starts to disintegrate and a tidal wave of snot shoots out of my nose. Sometimes it lands on my keyboard. Totally gross. Those are the lengths I'll go through in order to write.
Most of yesterday, I was covered in a wet blanket of misery and gloom. I always get like that when I can't write. It makes me fear about the future... a future where I might not be able to write due to physical conditions or mental health issues or worse my Draconian government cleansing the intertubes of filth which includes a round up of all of my blogs.
Vomiting into the void. Some days it seems that I'm screaming into nothingness. Other days, I'm just puking up my insides out into the universe.
Over the last two weeks I had an internal debate over Twitter. It's a great tool for my lazy friends who are in a blogging rut and I admit that it keeps me in better touch with my friends who I don't converse with on a daily basis. I also realize that I started a trend here. A lot of folks have jumped on the Twitter bandwagon since I started plugging it on Tao of Poker. Too bad that I'm not an affiliate so I can get a few bucks pitching their product.
The negative aspects about Twitter is the junkie phenomenon. Sometimes, all I am doing is refreshing Twitter's home page, much like how I used to obsess over reading blogs and refreshing my Bloglines page. I have to learn how to stop that.
I don't think Twitter will be around in a couple of years. Unless Google buys them and gobbles them up and adds Twitter to their vast virtual empire and then the Google bigwigs figure out how to monetize it and make tons of cash. I fear of a future where every other 'tweet' is spam.
And yes, you can follow me on Twitter.
On Tuesday morning, Nicky scheduled the maids to clean the apartment at 8am. When Showcase lived here, the two were messy roomies and the kitchen was always a disaster with a mountain of plates and dishes and pots and pans and glasses stacked high to the ceiling. Although we barely lived here over the last three months, the apartment collected a ton of dust. Plus my brother is coming to visit for the weekend so Nicky asked the maids to stop by.
$40 to clean the apartment. I told Nicky that she was anti-American for hiring illegal immigrants. Her defense was the old standard line, "Everyone else is doing it."
I suggested that we tip the maids $20 extra for $60 total. And that she should give it to them up front. The result? The best that the apartment had looked. Ever. They did a thorough job and even waxed the hardwood floors. If there's one thing I learned about living in Las Vegas, it's that you should never underestimate the value of a $20 tip, especially with rising gas prices, although they actually dropped in California over the last two weeks. You can now buy gas for as little as $4.20/gallon.
Of course, I had to hide all the contraband when the maids arrived early in the morning. I never knew how much paraphernalia I had lying around the apartment until I had to stash it away. I also had to take my valuables with me, which included some of my poker bankroll, my laptop, and smaller electronic items.
And the maids call Nicky... "Miss Nicky."
While the maids cleaned the apartment, we headed to Nick's for breakfast followed by a trip to Target. I blazed up in the car before we went inside. I was there for one specific reason... to get a new fan. I was too high and aimlessly wandered the aisles plucking random shit off the shelves and tossed it into the cart. They had tons of back-to-school stuff and Nicky said that the bins with notebooks and pens and stuff reminded her of happy childhood memories of shopping for supplies with her mother before school started. She was such a nerd.
I forgot about how massive the baby clothes aisles are. When we got home, I discovered that I forgot to buy a fan. Fuckin' stoner. Luckily I found a spare fan in the closest. Now Derek won't sweat his ass off when he sleeps.
I desperately needed a haircut. It had been at least three months since my last trim. I couldn't recall the last non-Vinny the barber haircut I got. Probably since the post-9/11 Wall Street days when I'd get a trim during lunch? Anyway, Nicky's old man said that he got his at SuperCuts around the corner so that's where we went. There was no wait. It cost $15.50 for the fastest cut of my life. A portly Ruskie chick went to work. Zero chitchat. No bullshit. It took less than seven minutes.
Vinny the barber takes thirty to forty minutes. He's methodical and we also have a conversation over the duration of the haircut. I tell him about the last country I visited and he usually updates me on the latest neighborhood gossip. We chat about local and national politics and the Yankees and about his latest trip to Atlantic City or the last time he played golf. I missed the banter between barber and client. The Ruskie broad at Super Cuts was like a robot. She barely breathed. I tipped her $5 for her rapid pace. That was the only semblance of emotion I saw her display in the ten minutes that I was there. She was... shocked.
I played a ton of online poker in the past week. I'm in the middle of a downswing. I had a terrible night on Wednesday where I lost $600. It was a lot worse too but I closed the gap late in the night. About 1/3 of those losses was a buy-in to a $215 tournament where I finished 888th place out of over 5,600 entrants. I didn't even make the money and missed that by 150 spots. I thought 888 was supposed to be a lucky number?
Vegas is going to be infested with crazy Asian gamblers today. 8 is a lucky number in Asian cultures. Much like how a lot of Americans wanted to get married on July 7, 2007 (7-7-07), a slew of Asians want to get married on 8-8-08 or gamble a ton.
Me? I'm staying away from any casino today. My goal is to smoke as much dope as possible and make fun of Bob Costas and his Olympic coverage as I wait for my brother to arrive later this evening.