In the early going I had Q-Q. The flop was J-x-x. I called an all-in bet. He had J-A and caught the Ace on the river. That was my bad beat for the night, I was glad to get it out of the way early.
I played well tonight. I believe I made good decisions about what hands to play and how aggressively to play them. I stole a couple of blinds. I also did a few follow-up bluffs, which are rare for me. (There’s probably a better term for that – continuation bluff? I mean that I have K-7 and raise pre-flop, the flop has nothing on it for me and I throw out even more money.) I don’t like risking that much on a naked bluff, so pulling off a couple of those was a nice change of pace for me.
On my biggest hand of the night I checked the option in big blind with K-2 suited, for 400. I checked in the dark before the flop. The flop was J-2-2. One player went all in with 2100. Another went all-in with 850. I called with my set of twos. One of them had a Jack, the other had high cards. I knocked them both out. On the next hand I knocked out another short stack player. In two hands I almost tripled my chips.
In 3-handed I had to make a couple tough folds. For example I raised with A-5 and someone went all-in. An Ace is good, but not good enough. With K-4 I decided to do one of the “continuation bluffs”. I pushed all-in on the turn, about 5000 into a pot of 7000. I was unfortunately called and knocked out. Eh, that’s how it goes.
I recently realized that I can go to the bathroom at work without touching anything.
The toilet flushes without me touching it.
The water is dispensed without me touching it.
The soap is dispensed without me touching it.
The paper towels are dispense without me touching anything.
I understand why it’s there. Most people seem to like it. I hate all of it. I hate waving my hands in midair and I look like an ass trying to trigger the electric eye. I feel like Gandalf’s special-needs nephew.
It’s a royal pain if you are doing anything non-standard. Trying to wash my glasses is ridiculous. Grabbing a few paper towels to clean up a spill can’t be done anymore. Maybe you want to see what your.. uh… ‘solid waste’ looks like for some reason. (Hey, guys do it sometimes.) Suppose you want to wash your forearms, you have to be a circus contortionist to trigger the water flow and slide your arms around in the bowl before the stream turns off.
When I came back to work from vacation the printer was missing. There was a note on the wall where the printer used to be. The same message was sent to me as an email, subject “Where’s the Printer?”.
In order to save cost, time, and energy xxx received permission from xxx and his direct reports to remove three HP 3880 color LaserJet printers from xxx.
The printer’s names are:
Xxx, xxx, and xxx
The larger HP color LaserJet named xxx will be relocated from its present location to the area where printer xxx was located (near the plotter machine) for better floor coverage.
Two high speed (50 pages per minute) HP copiers have been installed on xxx – xxx & xxx. These devices incur the lowest cost per page and boost the easiest user replaceable ink cartridges (no toner dust!). Please also consider using the duplex printing mode to save paper costs.
If you have any questions regarding these printer changes please contact xxx at extension xxx.
Thank you for your cooperation!
Oh, how I love being thanked for my cooperation when I had no choice. And the message leaves me with one basic question. Where is the printer!?
A simpler note would have worked.
Where’s the printer? It’s 12 feet to the left. It’s number xxx
Why are there so many people waiting for kidney transplants? Is it ethical to pay donors (Muttroxia gives a hearty “Yes!”) for their organs?
This very readable article dives into some of the problems and solutions. One of the things I liked about it is it’s sense of moral outrage. This is a solvable problems, and every day it isn’t solved increases human misery that much more.
LONDON — The controversy over the ethical and legal issues surrounding assisted suicide for the terminally ill was thrown into stark relief on Tuesday with the announcement that one of Britain’s most distinguished orchestra conductors, Sir Edward Downes, had flown to Switzerland last week with his wife and joined her in drinking a lethal cocktail of barbiturates provided by an assisted-suicide clinic.
Although friends who spoke to the British news media said Sir Edward was not known to have been terminally ill, they said he wanted to die with his ailing wife, who had been his partner for more than half a century.
Two years ago I complained about an Indiana gas station that arranged the different grades of gas in reverse order. Unless you were paying attention you could easily end up buying premium gas accidentally (as I did).
In the last two years, it’s only gotten worse. I’ve seen reverse ordering at a few other gas stations. And then there’s this one.