skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com
Monday, 23 February
Days Of Blunder
As I mentioned in my last post, I did indeed go out for a poker night with the boys. And I'm happy to report, that despite my vast ineptitude, I did actually win money. Not as much as B. or E., but I did pretty well. I'd also like to point to my terrific poker skills as the main factor, but I cannot: basically, I was simply slightly less inept than the others, and tried to hew to a policy of folding all but the strongest hands. Not so players like K., who would call patently absurd bets with cards that were visibly comical: "Who gives a fuck? I call!" "Dude, you have a three, an eight, and a coupon for dog grooming." There was also the perenially woeful C., who is perhaps the unluckiest gambler I have ever seen. C. could not only lose at solitaire, he could lose to other people. C. was the first to burn through his buy-in, and I believe it was an hour and a half before he won his first pot, which he took only after shooting another player in the face.
In other news, it's holy-fuck central at Chez Pfaff, as we are moving into our new place on Friday. We opted for Friday after learning the totally figure-outable fact that movers bend you over spectacularly for working weekends, as opposed to the slightly more soporific lurch-hump they deliver to your fiscal region for working weekdays. So, Friday. Consequently, we have thrown ourselves madly into Project: Fuck House Up, and we now cautiously walk through rooms strewn with boxes that contain various chaotic piles of our hastily-heaped shit.
And since moving sucks so much, you find entertainment where you can get it. For instance, I just moved aside an empty box that reads, proudly, "POISE BLADDER CONTROL PROTECTION PADS. EXTRA PLUS ABSORBENCY. 120 PADS." That should get the neighbors chatting. "So, howdy! Wow, I see you piss yourself. We'd invite you in, but, uh . . . we just put in new carpets." And then I can point to another box that says "12 Bottles Gordon's London Dry Gin" and reply, "Yep. A case a day! Well, that's renal failure for you."
I'm sure I'll manage to hork out at least one more post this week, but with all that's going on, it may be spotty. If I end up vanishing for a while, I should be back sometime next week, where I can tell you about the lap pool (in Seattle? Uh, okay.), the amazing circa 1965 stove, and the incredible bathroom that seems to be an homage to Robert Frost's "Mending Wall." Something there is that does not love a wall/And it is in my bathroom.
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When I moved a few years back, my dad came round with loads of huge empty boxes. They said Jack Daniels. And he didn't get them from wholesale box vendors, if you get my drift.
I'll have you know when all the money was counted I came almost even...almost.
Good luck with your move!
Good luck with your move, Skot. Last time I moved I got all my boxes at the liquor store, and I never heard the end of it.
Good luck with your lap pool.
Skot, I feel your pain, but I'm in a worse boat. In our infinite "wisdom" (and I do use that term very loosely) we sold our house a few days ago and have no clue as to where we are going to live. Have to be out by May 1st? Not a problem! Ah, the life of a developer is very strange indeed. My husband tells me not to worry, but the second I hear that, well...you know.
when i first read your post, i thought you said, "but with all that's going on, I may be spotty," and i thought to myself, damn, if you may be spotty, you have bigger problems than you thought.
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