Ahhhhh… Money won is always sweeter than money earned, and this $20 bill I have in my pocket that used to be in El Steve‘s pocket is giving me diabetes.

God, I love diabetes.

Steve came over today to test the durability of a new lens by shooting some portraits of me, Beth and Zoe. (The lens held up fine with no obvious defects or breakage, so I think he’s going to keep it.) While he was here we enjoyed our usual far-ranging conversations, and one of the important topics we discussed was that old 80’s TV show That’s Incredible. And that’s where the controversy flared.

As everyone knows (everyone but Steve, that is), the three stellar hosts of That’s Incredible were smokin’ 80’s hottie Cathy Lee Crosby, football great Fran Tarkenton, and legendary crooner John Davidson.

Let’s look at that list one more time, shall we? Hosting That’s Incredible were:

1. Cathy Lee Crosby
2. Fran Tarkenton
3. John Davidson

Skip Stephenson does not appear in that list, does he? No, Steve, he does not. And now $20 does not appear in your wallet because you foolishly bet me that he did. You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is: “Never get involved in a land war in Asia.” But, only slightly less well known is this: “Never go in against Chuck when 80’s TV trivia is on the line!”

Thanks, buddy!

Ow.

Also: Ow.

And lest we forget: Motherfucking OW!

When I returned from a day of scuba diving yesterday (yes, it was great, thanks for asking), I noticed that a long-time problem tooth was acting a little twitchy. I had a root canal done on it recently and it’s been a little sensitive every since. So having it hurt after chomping down on a regulator mouthpiece all day seemed sort of understandable … if you can get to a state of mind where you can accept that chronic tooth pain is acceptable. I took two Advil and went to bed.

Waking up this morning, it was still twitchy. Even more so, actually. But since I grind my teeth at night I figured having it hurt after chomping down on nothing all night long seemed sort of understandable … if you can get to a state of mind blah blah blah. So I took three Advil and carried on.

Tonight, Zoe wanted to go out for barbeque for dinner. I considered it and realized that all that chewing was gonna friggin’ hurt and that my tooth wasn’t up to it and I had to say no. We had Chinese instead. With soft, chewable noodles and rice.

At that point I was forced to admit to myself that maybe, just maybe, I have a dental problem that requires a dentist’s attention. So I calculated when I can most reasonably get in to see my dentist. The weekend is right out, obviously, and I have to be in the office Monday through Thursday, so I figured I’d do it next Friday. I asked myself: Will my tooth wait seven days for me? Sure it will. And I took four Advil and went to watch TV.

Now it’s about four hours later and I’m about to go take a handful of Advil. I can feel a little bump forming way up at the top of my gumline on the root of the tooth and I know from past experience that it’s an abscess. And it hurts. A lot. And it’s going to hurt more.

So now I’m asking myself: Will my tooth wait until Monday for me so I can try to get an appointment with my dentist after work? And I think it’s a stupid question. The better question is: Will my tooth wait until morning for me to try to get an emergency appointment tomorrow?

But the real question is: Where’s the damned Vicodin that was left over after I had the stupid root canal done that I’m going to have to have re-done?

During the final confrontation between Westley and Prince Humperdinck in The Princess Bride, Humperdinck begins their duel with the exclamation “To the death!” and Westley replies, “No. To the pain.” And then describes at length just what the pain will be.

As Westley finishes cataloguing all the ways Humperdinck will rue the day, Humperdinck says, “I think you’re bluffing.”

Westley replies, “It’s possible, Pig, I might be bluffing. It’s conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I’m only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But, then again… perhaps I have the strength after all.”

I was playing no limit poker tonight, thought the other guy was bluffing, and lost somewhere in the neighborhood of $300 on a single hand. He wasn’t bluffing. At ALL.

I had Q6, suited. Not a strong hand, but the blinds were only $3, so what the hell: I called.

Flop came AAQ. Yuck. I had two pair now — Aces and Queens — but anyone holding an Ace had me beat. I made a feeler bet — $10 , or maybe $20 — to see where I was. Got a few callers but no raisers. Probably safe against the Ace, then, and my Queen was probably the best hand.

The turn came a 4. There was a possible flush building, but the only thing really scaring me were those Aces. Again, anyone holding an Ace had me beat. I’m not sure, but I think I just checked here and everyone checked around behind me.

River came a Queen. Suh-weet! Now I had a full house, Queens and Aces. Anyone who made their flush is dead meat, nobody’s been betting an Ace so I’m pretty sure I’m safe there. I bet out $25 expecting everyone to fold or just call and lose.

The guy to my left bets all-in $285. WTF?

Everyone else folds behind him and now it’s back to me.

I took a looooooong time thinking about it. I kept deciding to fold, then thinking back on how he was betting — or, more importantly, not betting. He was either calling or checking all the way down, never betting out. I figured if he’d had the Ace, he’d have been betting his trips on the flop, and certainly on the turn. But he hadn’t, he’d just called and checked. So I started to become convinced that he either had the last Queen and we were tied, or he had nothing and was bluffing.

To the pain: I called. I had nearly $500 in front of me when that hand started, and when the pot was right I had barely $100 left. That pot was friggin’ huge, something like $600.

I flipped over my Queen to show Queens full of Aces. And my heart stopped as he flipped over Ace-Ace.

Motherfucker had four of a kind ON THE FLOP and slow-played it. And I just bought right into it. What an ass. I should have known I was beaten when he moved in on me. What ELSE did I think he had? So I donated to the guy, and big.

I have to give him credit, he played that hand perfectly. And it paid off. Huge.

The real pisser is that it was almost a jackpot hand. Aces Full or better beaten by Four of a Kind paid a $26,000 jackpot tonight — if both your hole cards played. Only one of mine did, the Queen. If there’d been another Queen on the board I would have won the jackpot. And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

To the pain.

God, I hate poker.

Ahhhhh, the sweet, sweet taste of a high speed internet connection. It makes a 45K dial-up connection taste like what it is: shit.

Yes, we’re back online. Woo.

And… Uh… Well, I was going to be all clever and write some kind of witty entry about it, but suddenly I don’t feel like it. So instead:

That is all.

Way to go, Louisiana. You’ve amended your state constitution to ban gay marriage. You’re on a roll now, you’ve got momentum now, you should keep moving forward, keep tackling those important issues.

Maybe next you can keep them niggers from voting.

A public private message to my favorite red headed stalker:

I read your email last night through webmail, but now with my internet access down I can’t get it through my work laptop’s dial-up. (And how stupid is that — that I can’t access work email through my work dial-up??? Welcome to ***. Morons.)

Anyway, email your info to me at my personal email (chuck at this domain), which I can get, and I’ll get back to you. Beth and I are all over getting together with you.

P.S. Tim, this ain’t for you. You’re my second favorite red headed stalker. But I still love you, man.

Twentyfour hours from now I’ll probably be sixty feet deep. Yes, kids, it’s scuba time again. I’m going to Catalina Island with a group of people from my local dive shop, where I’m going to meet up with another group of people from Scubaboard.com (I’m CHUD there, sign up and say “hi” if you’re a diver), and we’re all going to jump in the water and blow bubbles together. I can’t wait.

But, really, I’m writing this entry because I want to share this picture. It’s me and Zoe in the pool at a Labor Day barbeque with a bunch of scuba people. Me and my kid, scuba diving together. How cool is that? I can’t wait ’til she’s old enough (10) to get certified and go in the ocean with me.

TANSTAAFL. It’s an old Heinlein-ism that means There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. Except that there is; we’ve been dining for quite awhile. Internet-wise, that is.

Way back in the heady days when DSL was the Next Big Thing, I ran out and signed us up for service. And it was good. Sort of. But it was also free. Sort of.

Yeah, they kinda forgot to bill us for it. Ever. The service provider had financial problems and went Chapters 1-99 and was sold off in bits and pieces to other companies and somehow we fell through the cracks and never got billed. Eventually we got tired of the spotty service (hey, we have standards too: free crap is still crap, right?) so we signed up for cable internet service.

They came out and gave us a modem and drilled holes in the walls and ran wires to the house and voila!, we had cable. And it was good. And they too forgot to bill us. Ever. We set the account up for payment to automatically be deducted from our checking account every month, but they never deducted. Ever. And still we had service. And every once in awhile the service would hiccup and I’d think the jig is up and I’d have to come out of the shadows, but then it started up again and I STFU.

I’ve had my own little internal arguments about this, about the ethics of basically stealing their service. But you know what? You can rationalize and justify just about anything. I’ve factored that into my internal debates even as I continued to debate … and get free access.

Eventually I settled on the belief that I’m not stealing because I’m not hiding. They know who I am and where I am and what they gave me and what I agreed to pay — or at least they should. It’s not like I’m using a black box I bought off the internet or hacking into my neighbor’s cable box. No, I signed up with them just like everyone else did with every intention of paying for the service. They just never asked for payment.

But… Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s all bullshit rationalization. I’ve always known deep down that it was wrong, always felt badly about it, always resolved to call them up and ‘fess up and get the billing started … someday. I just never got around to it. (Another rationalization, I know.)

Anyway, the free lunch is now officially over. My cable is hiccuped again and so I went ahead and called the cable company today and signed up for new service. Yes, “new” — what, am I stupid? My install date is Tuesday morning and it looks like the only ‘net access I’ll have ’til then is my work laptop with my company ISP’s dialup. Free, of course.

So I’m going back on the cable company’s radar. I wonder if they’ll bill me this time?

Well, that didn’t take long. At 1:11 pm I received the following email:

Your posting has been removed by the craigslist community.

Sorry for the hassle! and thanks for your understanding.

Pussies.

I received just two responses on it, one person asking (in typical Craiglist spelling) “Are you seriuos?,” and the other offering a brief but succinct opinion: “ASSHOLE!”

Alas, nobody offered me a kitten for my recipe. Fortunately, I do have three of them already, so I can still get busy in the kitchen. I’ll let you know how it comes out.

If you’re not familiar with Craigslist and you live in a major US metropolitan area, you should check it out. It’s a glorified bulletin board/classified section, but you can find some pretty cool stuff in there.

But I don’t think my latest posting will last long before the Powers That Be delete it, so I’ll immortalize it here. Filed in the Wanted section under the heading “Kitten Needed”:

I desperately need a kitten for a new recipe I want to try. Breed unimportant, prefer one on the chubby side.

I”ll let you know what responses I get.