This is the tale of my very first call as a fully registered and licensed Emergency Medical Technician. I had literally received my certification in the mail the day before this call occurred.
On the volunteer fire department we were discouraged from responding directly to the scene of the call. Usually the local PD would respond and arrive to assess the situation before the FD got there. It didn't make sense in most instances for somebody to go to the scene without all of the equipment and supplies on the ambulance or fire trucks. The only exception was if it was on the direct route between your home and the fire station or was one of your immediate neighbors.
It was around 4:30 in the afternoon and I had just gotten home from my boring office job. I hadn't even changed out of my business casual attire of cheap Dockers and button down shirt when my FD pager went off announcing a possible heart problem in the apartment building right next door to mine. I figured I could at least get a history and record the patient's vital signs so when the ambulance arrived they could just package them up and head to the hospital. Besides, like 80% of these possible heart calls turned out to be bad bologna and not a real cardiac issue.
I grabbed my sphygmomanometer (fancy name for a blood pressure cuff I was forced to learn in my EMT training) stethoscope, badge and identification and headed next door on foot. I arrived at exactly the same time as the police officer. We were greeted by a 70+ year old woman who informed us that she thought her elderly aunt was suffering a heart attack. I asked where the patient was and she directed me to the bathroom.
I discovered her 90+ year old aunt lying on the floor with her pants still around her knees. I introduced myself as being from the fire department and told her I was just going to check her pulse and blood pressure. She was very disoriented and barely acknowledged my presence. Her pulse was rapid (150) and very thready. I slapped the BP cuff on her and started to inflate it and before I could even begin to deflate it she let out the most awful gasping breath that lasted about 10 seconds and then ceased respirations. I jabbed two fingers onto her carotid artery and confirmed what I already feared. Her heart was no longer beating.
I hooked my hands under her arms and dragged her frail 100 pound frame out into the living room and shouted at the cop, "Get on the radio and tell the ambulance to step it up because we are starting CPR!" The cop did as he was told and then told me he would do respirations since he had his one way valve mask with him. I started compressions and felt two or three ribs crack on the very first set of 5. It was only about 2-3 minutes later when the ambulance crew arrived and packaged her up and headed for the hospital.
I wish I could tell you that being there to initiate CPR right away saved her, but she didn't make it. It doesn't haunt me or anything because at 90 something it was just her time. In the course of my service as an EMT I saw multiple dead bodies and worked on people who were alive, but died soon after we treated them. This was the one and only time in my life that I have witnessed somebody drawing their very last breath and I will never forget it.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
Tales from the FD
Wow...I haven't written anything here in almost as long as Very Josie. The other day I was chatting with some friends when a turn in the conversation led to my revelation that I used to be a volunteer firefighter and EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) back in the late 80's and early 90's. I quit when my oldest son was born because it takes a lot of time and commitment to do it right and I didn't want to miss his childhood.
As you can guess I have a treasure trove of stories from my time on the FD. I'll tell a few of the better stories here and if you're interested I can always share more.
Without fail the first thing people ask when they find out you were an EMT is, "What is the grossest thing you've ever seen?" There are lots of stories that fit under the gross category, but I don't even have to think about this one. One story stands out above all others.
I was a very green rookie and had only had my EMT certification for maybe 6 months when the call came in. The police department was asking for assistance. They had discovered a body in a mobile home and needed us to come verify they were dead. The police never declare somebody dead and even though this guy was very obviously dead they needed us to confirm it. It wasn't a good sign when they told us we should probably bring along some of the fire air packs.
Did I mention that it was the middle of July and the mobile home wasn't air-conditioned? Did I also mention that the reason the cops were called was because the occupant hadn't been seen by his neighbors for several days and a foul odor was emanating from the residence? Yeah...we already knew it wasn't going to be pretty, but hoped the air packs would at least spare our olfactory nerves.
There are only three times when an EMT can declare somebody dead in the field.
1. If rigor mortis has set in. Rigor mortis can occur shortly after death, but will eventually subside.
2. If the body is dismembered. E.G. the head is missing or something.
3. If lividity has occurred. Lividity is what happens when your body stops circulating the blood and gravity causes it to pool anywhere the body is touching the ground. It looks like a big bruise and the blood will even ooze out of the pores in the skin if you press on it.
In this case we were checking for number 3. We arrived on the ambulance and the experienced paramedic turned to me and said, "Suit up, rookie, you're going in with me." We donned our air packs and made our way into the dimly lit mobile home. The poor bastard was lying on his back just in front of his couch. I felt a twinge of sadness that somebody could spend nearly a week without somebody missing them.
We positioned ourselves on either side of the body and prepared to pull him forward at the waist so we could check his back for lividity. He was a pretty big dude who looked even bigger because he was a tiny bit bloated. The paramedic counted to 3 and we pulled on his upper arms to lift him. He came about 2 inches off the floor when....well....
Have you ever had roast chicken? You know how the skin on a roast bird just kind of slides off the meat? Yeah...that happened. With a sickening smacking sound his skin separated at each shoulder and started to slide down his arms. We both immediately dropped him and the paramedic jumped up and said, "Yep he's dead. Lets get out of here until the coroner arrives." I high-tailed it outside and ripped off my mask. I was sweating not just because the mobile home was an oven, but because I was on the verge of purging the contents of my stomach. Swear to God, but the coroner strolled in without any air pack eating a fucking sandwich when he got there.
The stories aren't all as gross as that one. Some are sad. Others are inspirational. Still others are scary. Want to hear more? Ask me anything in the comments and I'll write up more stories if you're interested.
As you can guess I have a treasure trove of stories from my time on the FD. I'll tell a few of the better stories here and if you're interested I can always share more.
"What is the Grossest Thing You've Ever Seen?"
Without fail the first thing people ask when they find out you were an EMT is, "What is the grossest thing you've ever seen?" There are lots of stories that fit under the gross category, but I don't even have to think about this one. One story stands out above all others.
I was a very green rookie and had only had my EMT certification for maybe 6 months when the call came in. The police department was asking for assistance. They had discovered a body in a mobile home and needed us to come verify they were dead. The police never declare somebody dead and even though this guy was very obviously dead they needed us to confirm it. It wasn't a good sign when they told us we should probably bring along some of the fire air packs.
Did I mention that it was the middle of July and the mobile home wasn't air-conditioned? Did I also mention that the reason the cops were called was because the occupant hadn't been seen by his neighbors for several days and a foul odor was emanating from the residence? Yeah...we already knew it wasn't going to be pretty, but hoped the air packs would at least spare our olfactory nerves.
There are only three times when an EMT can declare somebody dead in the field.
1. If rigor mortis has set in. Rigor mortis can occur shortly after death, but will eventually subside.
2. If the body is dismembered. E.G. the head is missing or something.
3. If lividity has occurred. Lividity is what happens when your body stops circulating the blood and gravity causes it to pool anywhere the body is touching the ground. It looks like a big bruise and the blood will even ooze out of the pores in the skin if you press on it.
In this case we were checking for number 3. We arrived on the ambulance and the experienced paramedic turned to me and said, "Suit up, rookie, you're going in with me." We donned our air packs and made our way into the dimly lit mobile home. The poor bastard was lying on his back just in front of his couch. I felt a twinge of sadness that somebody could spend nearly a week without somebody missing them.
We positioned ourselves on either side of the body and prepared to pull him forward at the waist so we could check his back for lividity. He was a pretty big dude who looked even bigger because he was a tiny bit bloated. The paramedic counted to 3 and we pulled on his upper arms to lift him. He came about 2 inches off the floor when....well....
Have you ever had roast chicken? You know how the skin on a roast bird just kind of slides off the meat? Yeah...that happened. With a sickening smacking sound his skin separated at each shoulder and started to slide down his arms. We both immediately dropped him and the paramedic jumped up and said, "Yep he's dead. Lets get out of here until the coroner arrives." I high-tailed it outside and ripped off my mask. I was sweating not just because the mobile home was an oven, but because I was on the verge of purging the contents of my stomach. Swear to God, but the coroner strolled in without any air pack eating a fucking sandwich when he got there.
The stories aren't all as gross as that one. Some are sad. Others are inspirational. Still others are scary. Want to hear more? Ask me anything in the comments and I'll write up more stories if you're interested.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Play Money Fun
I like playing poker, but most of the time I don't have the disposable income to play as much as I would like. Recently "The Dank" got rebooted on Poker Stars as a play money home game. This has led me to start playing a lot of play money sit n go tournaments on Poker Stars just to kill time while watching football on the weekend or in the evenings to wind down before bed.
Since they are play money games it's impossible to not play them a little looser than you would with real money at stake and it has made me realize something. My normal style of poker is way too tight. I've had lots of success in these sit n go tourney's thanks to looser than usual play that is just a wee bit tighter than most of the maniacs on there who are shoving on the first hand with any face card.
I have to admit to a little douche-baggery on my part though. I can't help but mess with the players that take play money games way too seriously. You see all kinds, but the ones that make me laugh the hardest are the ones that are pausing a really long time to try to make their easy decisions seem like hard decisions. These are the same guys that lose their minds when somebody snaps off their TPTK shove because they called with bottom pair and hit trips or two pair on the river.
So the other night I had made it to the final 3 in a two table sit n go that paid 4 spots. I had a fairly sizeable chip lead. The other two players were super tight and clearly took their play money game very seriously based on comments they had made earlier in the game to the "donks" and "idiots" who kept getting lucky. I announced that I needed to leave (which was partly true) and started declaring what cards I had and shoving preflop. When they both would fold I'd show my cards to prove I was being honest about what I held.
About 6 hands into this process I'm dealt pocket aces. I'm dishonest for the first time and announce 9-2 off suit and shove. The player with the next largest stack of like 5,000 to my 18,000 called and revealed King-Jack off suit. He caught a King, but nothing more and was eliminated in third place.
I chuckled to myself as I pictured him punching his keyboard while cursing about that lying sack of shit JT88Keys. It kind of makes me wish there was a way for them to send me private messages on there.
So if you miss the days of your youth spent burning ants with a magnifying glass, you really should play some play money tournaments on Poker Stars. It's very entertaining.
Since they are play money games it's impossible to not play them a little looser than you would with real money at stake and it has made me realize something. My normal style of poker is way too tight. I've had lots of success in these sit n go tourney's thanks to looser than usual play that is just a wee bit tighter than most of the maniacs on there who are shoving on the first hand with any face card.
I have to admit to a little douche-baggery on my part though. I can't help but mess with the players that take play money games way too seriously. You see all kinds, but the ones that make me laugh the hardest are the ones that are pausing a really long time to try to make their easy decisions seem like hard decisions. These are the same guys that lose their minds when somebody snaps off their TPTK shove because they called with bottom pair and hit trips or two pair on the river.
So the other night I had made it to the final 3 in a two table sit n go that paid 4 spots. I had a fairly sizeable chip lead. The other two players were super tight and clearly took their play money game very seriously based on comments they had made earlier in the game to the "donks" and "idiots" who kept getting lucky. I announced that I needed to leave (which was partly true) and started declaring what cards I had and shoving preflop. When they both would fold I'd show my cards to prove I was being honest about what I held.
About 6 hands into this process I'm dealt pocket aces. I'm dishonest for the first time and announce 9-2 off suit and shove. The player with the next largest stack of like 5,000 to my 18,000 called and revealed King-Jack off suit. He caught a King, but nothing more and was eliminated in third place.
I chuckled to myself as I pictured him punching his keyboard while cursing about that lying sack of shit JT88Keys. It kind of makes me wish there was a way for them to send me private messages on there.
So if you miss the days of your youth spent burning ants with a magnifying glass, you really should play some play money tournaments on Poker Stars. It's very entertaining.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Accountability
So...time to get accountable for myself. I've not been the type of blogger who posts regularly about every mundane detail of my life. I'm not condemning that style of blogging. In fact I quite enjoy the day-in-the-life style of writing that gives me a glimpse into their every day life. The funniest thing is it invariably doesn't make me go, "Look how different their life is from mine." I actually am much more likely to think, "Wow, I'm a lot more like them than I would have imagined."
So I'm about to bang out details more personal than usual on this little laptop keyboard. I've worked for a Fortune 500 financial services company for more than 20 years now. I started out as a peon that did data entry work. Even though I felt completely overwhelmed for about the first six months that I worked there I soon discovered I had a knack for the intricacies of qualified pension plans and their myriad compliance rules. I also was personable, outgoing, and had an ease with verbal and written communication so they promoted me into a position as a contract administrator where I was the single point of contact for about 30 of our pension customers.
After a couple of years in that position I moved into the training and education department just as they began a year long project to document a new system that was going to revolutionize the way we processed the requests of our clients. It would allow us to process most requests the same day they were received and produce payments for them in just a day or two.
When that system rolled out into production the department that took phone calls from customers with computer issues was ill-prepared. They couldn't differentiate between the callers that had a real problem and the ones who just plain didn't have a clue what they were doing. That was where I came in. My work in the training department gave me the knowledge to at the very least determine the difference between system issues and training issues. Even though I knew little to nothing about computers and computer programs I was now a computer technician.
I held that job for 15 years and got really, really good at it. I can say without hesitation or undue pride that I was one of the best computer technicians in the Pension department. My customer surveys were universally positive. My customers often told me, "Oh I'm so glad it was you that answered," when they called our support line. I was comfortable and content except for one thing. The job didn't really have any upward career path. If I stayed in that position I could be good at what I did...maybe the best at it...but I'd never progress any further. I'd never make any more money and worst of all I'd just stagnate. I didn't know how unfulfilled I really was until my boss approached me out of the blue one day.
He was the supervisor of two very similar teams. One was the team I was currently on. The other was another call center that took phone calls on problems related to our in-house proprietary mainframe computer systems. They dealt with the complex issues that come up when things get entered incorrectly by a peon or a programmer misses the colon that should have been a semi-colon. He wanted me to consider moving onto the other team. They had an opening and he thought I would be a good fit. Moving would open up a career path into the systems programming and project area where he ultimately thought I could be very successful. He told me to give it a fair shot of like 6-12 months and if I hated it I could move back to my old team. So where was the risk? The risk I was most afraid of was what if I loved it? What if I became really successful? What if I realized I had wasted like 10+ years in the wrong job? Worst of all what if I had to attend a bunch of meetings? (I loathe meetings.)
I took the job and started about two weeks ago. I haven't felt this uncomfortable or anxious over work in years. So now to the real point of this post. In my new job I have to dress up a lot more than before. In the old job I crawled under desks and lugged computer equipment hither and yon. I got sweaty. They let us wear jeans to work every day even though nearly everyone else in our buttoned down world were only allowed to wear them as a reward once in a great while. I haven't dressed up for work in years.
And now to the real point of this post. About two years ago I quit smoking and gained a bunch of weight. That was long after I stopped dressing up for work. I don't fit into any of my dress work clothes any more. My wife went out and bought me a few pairs of slacks and a few new shirts and I'm all set for now, but I don't like the way they fit or the way I look in them. So I'm doing something about it. It's only been a few days, but I've started changing my diet. I'm sitting here snacking on grapes instead of chips or cookies.
I'm making plans to begin an exercise regimen. I'm the type that once I put my mind to doing this I will succeed at it. The success might not be permanent long term. I've done it in the past. About 10 years ago I did the same thing and lost down to about 195 pounds. At the beginning of this week I was 278 pounds. Before I quit smoking I was around 235 and never wavered far from it no matter what I ate or how little I exercised. Two hundred and seventy-eight pounds!!! That's so close to 300... I'm disgusted with myself.
I know I won't regularly update anybody on my progress through this blog, but now I've put it out there. I have to do it. I have a strong sense of accountability, so it's happening. I'm stubborn if nothing else. My very aggressive stretch goal is 50 pounds by January. That's about 4 pounds a week.
Here goes nothing....or hopefully a lot less of something. (Me I'm talking about less of me.)
So I'm about to bang out details more personal than usual on this little laptop keyboard. I've worked for a Fortune 500 financial services company for more than 20 years now. I started out as a peon that did data entry work. Even though I felt completely overwhelmed for about the first six months that I worked there I soon discovered I had a knack for the intricacies of qualified pension plans and their myriad compliance rules. I also was personable, outgoing, and had an ease with verbal and written communication so they promoted me into a position as a contract administrator where I was the single point of contact for about 30 of our pension customers.
After a couple of years in that position I moved into the training and education department just as they began a year long project to document a new system that was going to revolutionize the way we processed the requests of our clients. It would allow us to process most requests the same day they were received and produce payments for them in just a day or two.
When that system rolled out into production the department that took phone calls from customers with computer issues was ill-prepared. They couldn't differentiate between the callers that had a real problem and the ones who just plain didn't have a clue what they were doing. That was where I came in. My work in the training department gave me the knowledge to at the very least determine the difference between system issues and training issues. Even though I knew little to nothing about computers and computer programs I was now a computer technician.
I held that job for 15 years and got really, really good at it. I can say without hesitation or undue pride that I was one of the best computer technicians in the Pension department. My customer surveys were universally positive. My customers often told me, "Oh I'm so glad it was you that answered," when they called our support line. I was comfortable and content except for one thing. The job didn't really have any upward career path. If I stayed in that position I could be good at what I did...maybe the best at it...but I'd never progress any further. I'd never make any more money and worst of all I'd just stagnate. I didn't know how unfulfilled I really was until my boss approached me out of the blue one day.
He was the supervisor of two very similar teams. One was the team I was currently on. The other was another call center that took phone calls on problems related to our in-house proprietary mainframe computer systems. They dealt with the complex issues that come up when things get entered incorrectly by a peon or a programmer misses the colon that should have been a semi-colon. He wanted me to consider moving onto the other team. They had an opening and he thought I would be a good fit. Moving would open up a career path into the systems programming and project area where he ultimately thought I could be very successful. He told me to give it a fair shot of like 6-12 months and if I hated it I could move back to my old team. So where was the risk? The risk I was most afraid of was what if I loved it? What if I became really successful? What if I realized I had wasted like 10+ years in the wrong job? Worst of all what if I had to attend a bunch of meetings? (I loathe meetings.)
I took the job and started about two weeks ago. I haven't felt this uncomfortable or anxious over work in years. So now to the real point of this post. In my new job I have to dress up a lot more than before. In the old job I crawled under desks and lugged computer equipment hither and yon. I got sweaty. They let us wear jeans to work every day even though nearly everyone else in our buttoned down world were only allowed to wear them as a reward once in a great while. I haven't dressed up for work in years.
And now to the real point of this post. About two years ago I quit smoking and gained a bunch of weight. That was long after I stopped dressing up for work. I don't fit into any of my dress work clothes any more. My wife went out and bought me a few pairs of slacks and a few new shirts and I'm all set for now, but I don't like the way they fit or the way I look in them. So I'm doing something about it. It's only been a few days, but I've started changing my diet. I'm sitting here snacking on grapes instead of chips or cookies.
I'm making plans to begin an exercise regimen. I'm the type that once I put my mind to doing this I will succeed at it. The success might not be permanent long term. I've done it in the past. About 10 years ago I did the same thing and lost down to about 195 pounds. At the beginning of this week I was 278 pounds. Before I quit smoking I was around 235 and never wavered far from it no matter what I ate or how little I exercised. Two hundred and seventy-eight pounds!!! That's so close to 300... I'm disgusted with myself.
I know I won't regularly update anybody on my progress through this blog, but now I've put it out there. I have to do it. I have a strong sense of accountability, so it's happening. I'm stubborn if nothing else. My very aggressive stretch goal is 50 pounds by January. That's about 4 pounds a week.
Here goes nothing....or hopefully a lot less of something. (Me I'm talking about less of me.)
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Never Go In Against a Sicilian When Death Is On The Line
How 'bout them Cowboys? I've been a Cowboys fan since grade school and they have been equally thrilling and frustrating to follow. They are also one of those teams you either love or hate and there usually isn't a lot of middle ground, so I'm used to people groaning when I tell them that's the NFL squad I support.
How do you become a fan of the Dallas Cowboys when you grew up in Des Moines, Iowa? Well, my immediate family lives in Des Moines, but all of my extended family was in southwest Mississippi and northwest Louisiana. They were all either Saints or Cowboys fans. The Saints sucked long and hard during the seventies while the Cowboys were pretty good for most of that decade, so I gravitated towards the winner.
So, yes, I was kind of a bandwagon fan at first, but I stuck with them through the terribly mediocre Danny White eighties and that awful 1-15 season in 1989 when Troy Aikman first took over the quarterbacking duties. (The only win that season came against the Washington Redskins when Mr. Aikman was on the bench recovering from the first of his many concussions in the NFL.)
The nineties were awesome for Cowboys fans. Jimmy Johnson had the Boys riding high with a high-powered offense featuring an offensive line with a mean streak and an aggressive hard hitting defense. Jimmy led the team to two dominant Super Bowl wins over the Buffalo Bills in '93 and '94 and I firmly believe the dynasty would have continued if Jerry Jones' massive ego didn't get in the way. He couldn't just let Jimmy Johnson have the credit for the success and pushed him out the door. He hired his buddy Barry Switzer as his replacement, but Barry wasn't nearly as good of a coach when he couldn't bribe and cheat his way to championships like he did back at Oklahoma University.
Barry got a Super Bowl win in 1996 thanks to Jimmy's player evaluation skills and some terrible QB play by the Pittsburgh Steelers' Neil O'Donnell. I mean...he single-handedly made Larry Brown the MVP by passing the ball straight to him. Even Cowboys fans didn't think Larry Brown was that great. The Raiders, who greatly over paid for Larry Brown in the free agent market, certainly didn't think he was most valuable...or a player.
In the 2000's we've had a shred of hope, but the team is painfully and frustratingly inconsistent. Tony Romo vascillates between brilliant and recklessly idiotic. When the defense is good, the offensive line is weak. When the offense is efficient, the special teams give up big plays. The few times they put it all together they look like world beaters, but that only happens like 2 or 3 times a season and never in the playoffs.
I'll just say this for the record. The Cowboys will never again contend for a Super Bowl unless and until Jerry Jones gives up the player personnel duties to somebody with some actual football knowledge and experience. His ego is way too large to let that happen, so until Jerry joins his buddy Al Davis in the big owner's box in the sky I have little hope that my Cowboys will add to their five Lombardi trophies.
And so it was that I sprung to the defense of my beloved Cowboys when I felt they were slighted by my friend Very Josie. I've seen her posts about how she dominates football pools and pick 'em contests, but I ignored history. She said Dallas would lose to Seattle last week. I disagreed. I dared her to put her money where her full-lipped Sicilian mouth was. Well we never agreed on cash or other stakes, but a friendly wager was made.
She was right. I will never again doubt the prognostication prowess of Lady Josephine and shall pay my penance in Las Vegas in December if I'm able to attend the WPBT.
How do you become a fan of the Dallas Cowboys when you grew up in Des Moines, Iowa? Well, my immediate family lives in Des Moines, but all of my extended family was in southwest Mississippi and northwest Louisiana. They were all either Saints or Cowboys fans. The Saints sucked long and hard during the seventies while the Cowboys were pretty good for most of that decade, so I gravitated towards the winner.
So, yes, I was kind of a bandwagon fan at first, but I stuck with them through the terribly mediocre Danny White eighties and that awful 1-15 season in 1989 when Troy Aikman first took over the quarterbacking duties. (The only win that season came against the Washington Redskins when Mr. Aikman was on the bench recovering from the first of his many concussions in the NFL.)
The nineties were awesome for Cowboys fans. Jimmy Johnson had the Boys riding high with a high-powered offense featuring an offensive line with a mean streak and an aggressive hard hitting defense. Jimmy led the team to two dominant Super Bowl wins over the Buffalo Bills in '93 and '94 and I firmly believe the dynasty would have continued if Jerry Jones' massive ego didn't get in the way. He couldn't just let Jimmy Johnson have the credit for the success and pushed him out the door. He hired his buddy Barry Switzer as his replacement, but Barry wasn't nearly as good of a coach when he couldn't bribe and cheat his way to championships like he did back at Oklahoma University.
Barry got a Super Bowl win in 1996 thanks to Jimmy's player evaluation skills and some terrible QB play by the Pittsburgh Steelers' Neil O'Donnell. I mean...he single-handedly made Larry Brown the MVP by passing the ball straight to him. Even Cowboys fans didn't think Larry Brown was that great. The Raiders, who greatly over paid for Larry Brown in the free agent market, certainly didn't think he was most valuable...or a player.
In the 2000's we've had a shred of hope, but the team is painfully and frustratingly inconsistent. Tony Romo vascillates between brilliant and recklessly idiotic. When the defense is good, the offensive line is weak. When the offense is efficient, the special teams give up big plays. The few times they put it all together they look like world beaters, but that only happens like 2 or 3 times a season and never in the playoffs.
I'll just say this for the record. The Cowboys will never again contend for a Super Bowl unless and until Jerry Jones gives up the player personnel duties to somebody with some actual football knowledge and experience. His ego is way too large to let that happen, so until Jerry joins his buddy Al Davis in the big owner's box in the sky I have little hope that my Cowboys will add to their five Lombardi trophies.
And so it was that I sprung to the defense of my beloved Cowboys when I felt they were slighted by my friend Very Josie. I've seen her posts about how she dominates football pools and pick 'em contests, but I ignored history. She said Dallas would lose to Seattle last week. I disagreed. I dared her to put her money where her full-lipped Sicilian mouth was. Well we never agreed on cash or other stakes, but a friendly wager was made.
She was right. I will never again doubt the prognostication prowess of Lady Josephine and shall pay my penance in Las Vegas in December if I'm able to attend the WPBT.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Heartland Poker Tour
The Heartland Poker Tour is coming to my home poker room this October 12-21. I don't have the scratch to buy into the main event directly, but I'm going to try to win my way in through satellites. I'll probably take a crack at a $65 single table sit and go where the top 3 win an entry to a $180 super satellite. The top ten percent in the super satellite earn entry into the $1,650 main event.
I've never played in any truly deep-stacked events and I'd love to try out an event where patience and well-timed aggression are valued over luck. The sit and go is a pretty quick structure, but the super satellite allows for a little play and isn't an all out donk fest. The main event is a 3-day tournament where you start with 25,000 in tournament chips and it looks like the winners of most HPT main events win somewhere in the neighborhood of $120,000-$130,000.
If you're interested in the full structure it can be found here.
I know it's still like a month away, but wish me luck. I could really use a little financial windfall about now.
I've never played in any truly deep-stacked events and I'd love to try out an event where patience and well-timed aggression are valued over luck. The sit and go is a pretty quick structure, but the super satellite allows for a little play and isn't an all out donk fest. The main event is a 3-day tournament where you start with 25,000 in tournament chips and it looks like the winners of most HPT main events win somewhere in the neighborhood of $120,000-$130,000.
If you're interested in the full structure it can be found here.
I know it's still like a month away, but wish me luck. I could really use a little financial windfall about now.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Waffles, Why So Serious?
I made a flippant comment on Waffles' recent post where he criticized the play of Poker Grump and earned a post of my own from him raining down his particular brand of vitriol on me. I tried to make a rebuttal in the comments and jab him with the virtual stick, but he deleted both of my comments.
I thought his skin was thicker than that and he would just fire back at me, but he chose to just maintain his bully pulpit by silencing me. I'm disappointed because I really thought Waffles was somebody who could give and get abuse when it was all in fun. I thought that was sort of his thing. Guess not...
I thought his skin was thicker than that and he would just fire back at me, but he chose to just maintain his bully pulpit by silencing me. I'm disappointed because I really thought Waffles was somebody who could give and get abuse when it was all in fun. I thought that was sort of his thing. Guess not...
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