I've got sixteen minutes until my roast dinner for one is ready, so let's not hang around. I'm having beef, a yorkshire pudding, some roast potatoes and little compartment of carrots and I've never felt so alive.
Now then. They say blondes have more fun. If you looked like the "blondes" I was knocking about with last weekend you'd need a sense a humour. I'm very weary of intraweb message boards and communities as a rule. They're essentially cults aren't they. Cults for people who don't really want to get dressed and go out and find a real one. Cliques, cults, communities, communes; they're all the same, nothing good comes from them except for occasional mass suicide.
Anyhoo, I joined one a while ago. It was called Blonde Poker. I joined it cause they gave lots of info about poker (of all things) although I never joined in with their message board speak. So anyhoo, in order to join one of these things you need a new identity,..of course you do. That's the whole purpose of the intrawebs for most poeople. A new identity, a fresh start built on self loathing lies and denial, the cornerstone of any healthy psychosis.
I chose the screename Warbwastard. I felt it had a nice ring to it. I stole it from somewhere as it happens. I forget where. A comedy that involved a robot-wars competition. War Bastard was the name of the robot and anyway...
So..Blonde Poker held a poker festival in Luton last week and as part of this coming together of this poker playing community it was thought to be a good idea if we all wore badges of our screen names so we could put faces to screen names. I've never posted any messages so I felt I shouldn't have to do this. I also didn't want to walk about all day with War Bwastard written on chest.
I did it though. Look.
I finished 20th in the tournament by the way. I was unlucky too not to progress. Norman Pace of Hale and Pace fame looked on sympathetically. Who'd have thunked it when I was 12 years old, sat at home watching Hale and Pace and thinking how shit it was, that twenty years later I'd be stood next time him in a poker room thinking how shit it was.
I'm off to Ireland in June to play those funny little elves in one of their poker tournaments. I've done some research and apparently Ireland was the land C.S. Lewis based all his Narnia books on. I plan to get there by walking through my Mum and Dads wardrobe.
My roast dinner for one is ready. I'm not ashamed either.
Now then. They say blondes have more fun. If you looked like the "blondes" I was knocking about with last weekend you'd need a sense a humour. I'm very weary of intraweb message boards and communities as a rule. They're essentially cults aren't they. Cults for people who don't really want to get dressed and go out and find a real one. Cliques, cults, communities, communes; they're all the same, nothing good comes from them except for occasional mass suicide.
Anyhoo, I joined one a while ago. It was called Blonde Poker. I joined it cause they gave lots of info about poker (of all things) although I never joined in with their message board speak. So anyhoo, in order to join one of these things you need a new identity,..of course you do. That's the whole purpose of the intrawebs for most poeople. A new identity, a fresh start built on self loathing lies and denial, the cornerstone of any healthy psychosis.
I chose the screename Warbwastard. I felt it had a nice ring to it. I stole it from somewhere as it happens. I forget where. A comedy that involved a robot-wars competition. War Bastard was the name of the robot and anyway...
So..Blonde Poker held a poker festival in Luton last week and as part of this coming together of this poker playing community it was thought to be a good idea if we all wore badges of our screen names so we could put faces to screen names. I've never posted any messages so I felt I shouldn't have to do this. I also didn't want to walk about all day with War Bwastard written on chest.
I did it though. Look.
I finished 20th in the tournament by the way. I was unlucky too not to progress. Norman Pace of Hale and Pace fame looked on sympathetically. Who'd have thunked it when I was 12 years old, sat at home watching Hale and Pace and thinking how shit it was, that twenty years later I'd be stood next time him in a poker room thinking how shit it was.
I'm off to Ireland in June to play those funny little elves in one of their poker tournaments. I've done some research and apparently Ireland was the land C.S. Lewis based all his Narnia books on. I plan to get there by walking through my Mum and Dads wardrobe.
My roast dinner for one is ready. I'm not ashamed either.
1 comments:
I never forgave Hale & Pace after I copied their dance moves to 'The Stonk' at the Co-Op annual party to impress Paul Jackon. It scuppered my chances. It was later, that I discovered it wasn't the most erotic dance in the world.
I hope you beat him.
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