Tiger Woods

Hands up who thinks Tiger Woods was rescued by his wife with a golf-club; or was he rescued *from* his wife with a golf club?

Can I get odds on Betfair?

And yes I did tag this as "current affairs".

Run Goodaments

Still running stupidly hot at the tables. Especially considering I'm sticking to the micro levels still.

Perusing Hold Em Manager, my last few sessions of four tabling at $.25/$.50 are showing a win rate of $104 and $199 per hour. If only that were sustainable.

In all honesty I've done nothing more than get lucky in terms of picking up big hands versus idiots, and hitting big draws in multi-way pots. I don't think that level of wisdom is going to earn me a book deal or a sponsorship package just yet.

Today marks a milestone in my career, as I'm pretty sure I passed the first exam I've sat in about 14 years. Which should mean I'm 25% of the way towards being professionally accredited as a business analyst.

What was encouraging about the course was I pretty quickly realised I knew a helluva lot more than most of the other participants. Some of whom already hold down pretty decent jobs in the field.

In their own fields I'm sure they're experts, but the lack of knowledge of what I'd consider general business terms, and the lack of awareness of the economic environment was surprising to me.

Major stress of the week was three days of commuting along the M8. Especially when day one (i.e. the day I didn't have clue where the hell I was going) was possibly the worst day of the year for driving - howling gales, torrential winds, and crashes galore.

I'll be back to the trains as soon as possible.

Resting Between Roles - Update

Quick progress report on how my time off is going.

Good

Ironing - almost up-to-date.
Time with kids - fun.
Training/self-improvement - start a 3-day training course tomorrow. Managed to negotiate a 45% discount from the provider.
Career development - had various enquiries for contract roles, and have a job interview today for a permie position that I might actually consider.
Winning at poker - running ridic good on a small sample.

Bad

Gym - not been! Mix of illness, injury, and other distractions.
Catching up with pals - one big night out. Nothing else.
Playing poker - only played about six hours of four tabling.
Blogging - not written as much as I'd like.

General summary would be by Friday the decks will be clear and my time truly will be my own. I doubt I'll get anything lined up before Christmas but so far it's going well.

Pimp Cancels Rabbi's Drug Fuelled Orgy

Straight from the Department of You Couldn't Make It Up. This truly puts the occasional lunacy you'll see at the poker table into perspective!

In other news, megacorp can GFT, albeit I didn't present the news to them in exactly that format. I may need work in the New Year.

Dilemma

So there I was planning a lovely chilled post about how nice it's been to get a whole list of to-do's ticked off, spend some time with the family, put some career development plans in place, and generally depressurise. Some winning poker sessions have even been booked in Hold Em Manager!

Then I checked my voicemail tonight and found a message from the agency I'd recently been working through...

'Hi, err, we've just heard from megacorp and, err, well, err, they're wondering if you could start back on Monday with a view to working til Christmas?'

It was after five, and I needed some time to think, so I didn't bother phoning back.

Having worked for so long in IT, I've long since come to the conclusion most British businesses are managed by people I wouldn't trust to walk my dog (if I had one).

Generally I'm not someone who panders to fools, though neither do I often seek confrontation with them. I think that's why I ended up as a freelancer.

Career development in big companies requires a degree of politicing, and while I'm smart enough to recognise what's required, I don't always have the inclination to do the needful.

Being a contractor I can tolerate the buffoons for a while then move on to fresh pastures with no harm done to my career, and no middle-managers left lying in a pool of blood and teeth.

However the longer a contract goes, the tougher it becomes to keep the frustration bottled up, and I'd long ago realised the breaking point was looming on my current contract, so I'd already started making moves towards finding something new.

When the end came in this contract a little prematurely it was a surprise but in some ways a relief, and I've felt ten times better for it over the last week.

Now I have the chance to grab another five weeks or so of earnings before the festive period, which in the current economic climate isn't to be sniffed at. It also gives me the opportunity to actually have a conversation with my parents that doesn't involve the 'have you found anything yet?' question.

On the other hand, I've earmarked some of that time for training and re-skilling, and well as general life enhancing stuff.

Plus I'd need to take in a huge box of cakes, as is the convention for people who are given a leaving card and present, only to be re-hired within weeks.

Yes, there is a precedent for this very situation within the department I worked in. Which pretty much sums up their ineptness.

There are other considerations too. Many of the people on the team are friends as well as workmates. Not going back will clearly be leaving them with more shit to shovel (albeit with increased job security); but going back also bails out the idiots who got themselves into a state where they couldn't afford to keep me in the first place.

Decisions, decisions...

Belle de Jour Outs Herself

I did have a little laugh today at the news that notorious London prostiblogger Belle de Jour has outed herself to a national newspaper.

I've not been an avid follower of the blog, but the first book is very well written and highly entertaining.

One of the gems in the article is that after struggling for cash and deciding to become an escort to make ends meet, she did actually manage to get a job as a computer programmer, but 'kept up with my other work because it was so much more enjoyable.'

I have to say, I can't blame her one bit. Indeed in her situation I'd recommend her career path over computer programming for sure.

Alas my, ahem, physical attributes, and personal circumstances, mean that's not really an option for me at present.

Eddie Izzard Mini Review

Went to see Eddie Izzard last night at the SECC.

He was quite good.

The SECC is a shit venue for stand-up comedy.

CV Time

As a freelance IT consultant I should probably be pleased that in a world of 1-month rolling contracts it is four years since I last needed to update my CV.

Numerous renewals and word-of-mouth recommendation has been enough to keep me out of mischief.

Yet it's still a bit of a shock to find myself in that situation, and the timing is somewhat inconvenient. Still, at least I might find some time for the gym between now and Christmas.

My waistline will thank me for it.

Hardly Duelling Scars!

I did some work in Exeter a few years back. Lovely place to work, especially during the summer when the balmy nights, and influx of foreign language students, made hanging around the bars and parks a very cosmopolitan experience.

Alas it seems their more run-of-the-mill winter students are not quite of the same calibre. This has to be the lamest student prank ever.

Maimed for life with a 'heated coat hanger'. Presumably the cheapo ones beloved of dry cleaners. Not something you'd really care to boast about to the grandchildren.

Back (Again)

But this time it's serious.

I finally quit procrastinating and bought a Netbook (Samsung NC130 fwiw), as well as a broadband dongle, so hopefully my web access will improve.

It's proved a wise investment. First week I had it I was working overtime (a common theme recently) when I spotted the teams for the Rangers/Celtic game, just before kick-off.

My work proxy server blocks any gambling sites, but I just had time to get onto Betfair and see the over 2.5 goals sitting at 6/4. With those defences a small wager was definitely in order, which had paid off within 30 minutes.

In retrospect I definitely should have had a good bit more on it, but I was so rushed and it was really just a tester to prove the set-up worked. Better to win a little than nothing.

The set-up also supports online poker. I've played a few hands on Full Tilt and response times seemed fine. Won't be any multi-tabling going on with a 10" screen though!

I've been forcing myself to play a bit more regularly recently. I say forced because I can't say there's been a lot of joy in it. Partly for reasons of runbaditis, but party because a lot of the games are just so dry it hurts.

In some ways it reminds me of developments in the IT world, with which I am painfully familiar. More on that soon.


PS Sad geek that I am, I cannot resist that little Amazon MP3 widget. Mon the Biffy!

A Letter To Boycott Scotland

Dear Mr/Ms Boycott Scotland

After hearing of your site through various news sources, I found myself reading it today with a mix of sadness and confusion.

I've always been a fan of the USA and have enjoyed several visits to your country. I enjoy many aspects of your culture, and I admire the 'can do' attitude many Americans have.

Links between our countries run deep. Right back to the very formation of your nation. I remember learning about John Paul Jones, and being fascinated and proud that a Scot should be credited as the father of the world's most powerful navy.

It seems you now wish to sever these ties. Indeed you would revert to the opposite end of the spectrum with a declaration of some sort of trade war against the United Kingdom in general, and Scotland in particular - and all over the release of one dying man.

A sad and strange decision, but one you are entitled to make. For that is what democracy and freedom is about.

Of course, following this decision through to it's logical conclusion - as you surely must - there are several other steps you will now wish to take.

You can write to the UK Prime Minister and Defence Secretary to tell them the USA no longer needs the support of the 9,000 UK troops currently fighting in Afghanistan.

You can write to the commanders of the two Scottish battalions currently training for their next deployment in Afghanistan - over 1000 Scots - to tell them their services are no longer required.

You can write to the friends and families of the 179 British personnel who died in Iraq to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

You can write to the friends and families of the 206 British personnel who have died so far in Afghanistan to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

You can visit Scotland and the wider UK, and seek out the troops who have suffered horrific injuries. Legs and arms blown off, terrible burns, and other traumas, to tell them why their sacrifice counts less than the release of one dying man.

Once you have done all that, feel free to resume your boycott of haggis, kilts, whisky, and travel to Scotland or the UK.

It won't put me off visiting the USA or my American friends. Indeed plans for my next trip are already underway.

I've stood on the edge of the Hoover Dam and wondered at the ingenuity and endeavour that produced it. I've ascended the Empire State Building and marvelled at the cityscape. I've travelled down the Pacific highways and across the Golden Gate; basked in the hospitality of cosmopolitan San Francisco; played poker in Las Vegas; been below deck on the USS Constitution in Boston; watched The Cubbies win at Wrigley Field, and still I'll come back for more.

Because friends, and allies, see the bigger picture. They respect the differences in the cultures and legal systems of their comrades, and work with them in partnership for the greater common good.

Friends may often disagree, but they often agree to differ. That is a lesson you may wish to reflect upon.

Best wishes.

Div.

Not Dead, Just Resting

Nice to know some people do still pass by here, even if they mainly seem to be spamsters - who are rapidly deleted!

Back soon I hope.

Question

Is finding a young fox sound asleep in your garden a sign of good luck?


I'll know the answer later today.

Update: Apparently not.

This is just cruelly tempting...

The Inbetweeners

Can't remember the last time I actually made time to sit and watch a TV show week-on-week.

I missed the first series of The Inbetweeners but caught up with it on 4OD when a workmate recommended it. K and I were hooked from Episode 1. It's fucking hilarious. Good soundtrack too.

Series 2 is on now and the V+ is set, but we've still made sure to catch every episode as broadcast.

Seems a shame it's on E4, where viewing figures around one million are a top performance.

A few snippets courtesy of the E4 website:

The Intro:


The mum IS fit:


Thank fuck my driving test didn't go like this:


Donovan is hard, and Jay is delusional:

Scandie Poker - It's In The Genes

Or is that jeans?

Next time some Scandie lunatic four bets you pre-flop with J3, pause and reflect it's not just starting hand values they have an unorthodox approach to.

Fond Memories

Where I used to live.

Commuting was a LOT easier then.

I'm not sure what the actual point of Google Street View is, but bloody hell the detail is phenomenal!

(Maybe they could devote some of that techie genius to making Blogger support iframes, or am I missing something?)

Stoked

Not a lot of time for poker right now.

Aside from work I am wrapped up in a personal project so gloriously inappropriate for the current world economic situation, a few of my workmates clearly think I have lost my marbles.

Whereas I'm more enthused that I've been in a long time about something that doesn't involve a Miranda Kerr bikini shoot.

If I can pull off the deal I'm aiming for, I'll be ecstatic, but in dire need of improving both my work-rate and win-rate at the tables to supplement the family coffers.

Badder Than Michael Jackson

Still plugging away at the tables. Mainly at Everest Poker aka The Land That Sklansky Forgot.

Alas I am running badder than Michael Jackson in a kindergarten right now.

Fortunately I had, for reasons entirely non-bankroll related, decided to drop right down to the micro-stakes for a while.

Which means I've been up and down more than a crack ridden whore's knickers, but ultimately haven't lost or made a penny since Christmas.

Could be worse I suppose.

Growing Old Disgracefully

Of the many signs of growing old, one I was not familiar with until this weekend was the experience of attending a 21st birthday party where the celebration was in honour of a very close friend's child.

A close friend who happens to be almost exactly the same age as me. A close friend who, yes, has a 21-year old daughter. That must make me pretty old!

On the plus side, my Friday night plans earned me a bit of kudos with the younger members of my work team. I'm pretty sure I could have sold tickets to a few of them.

Also on the plus side, I could honestly put my hand-on-heart and say I actually did recognise some of the music the DJ was playing. It didn't even seem too loud.

Still down with the kids! Umm, or something like that.

On the slightly disgraceful side, when faced with a sly 'anyone caught your eye?' question from the wife - who had cunningly waited until the booze was clearly seeping into my veins - my answer was honest enough to be credible, but needed a degree of obfuscation to remove the risk of a knee to the groin.

Being a 21st there was of course more boozing going on than the BMA would approve of, and some people took it worse than others.

None more so than the guy who lapsed into incoherence; had to be carried from the club; assisted into a taxi (but only after being handed a plastic bag at the insistence of the driver); and was last seen vomiting from the open cab window, as it weaved it's way through the traffic on Glasgow's party central - Sauchiehall Street.

Par for the course if you're an under-ager who outsmarted the bouncers.

Slightly embarrassing if you're a 20-something living it large with your mates.

When you happen to be aforementioned very close friend and father of the birthday girl, that's got to be a Medal of Honour for growing old disgracefully.