On the bright side:

• I will finally have the time to get my Zend certification
• I will make a decent amount of money because of long work hours
• I may finally get back into shape
• I may finally get a chance to launch my poker site

I look at this time as – well – prison time. Counting the days. Doing my best to stay alive.

Cheers,

After these two moths of extreme work, I’ll most likely be visiting family/friends and playing a lot more poker. The games in Alberta were super soft last time I was there, and now that I have a good bankroll, I can only hope that the games are still good.

As far as personal projects, I’m chipping away at pokerscraper in my spare time, and have some work done on hand import classes. I always seem to get hung up on the details, though. Right now I’m pondering the advantages of the Kohana vs Symfony frameworks.

That’s all for now..

So – birthday resolution – get registered for some online courses. Hopefully I can keep it.

The treacherous Hiltons (no doubt inspired by their malignant daughter Paris) have duped me into betraying my country and embracing the American Independence Day. And for what? A buffet was promised, and a buffet was delivered, but it did not meet the specifications that were originally agreed upon.

“Isn’t it ironic, that the betrayer is betrayed, funny how life works like that, isn’t it?”

Paris Hilton’s words reverberated through the drums of my ears as I begrudgingly ingested a fork full of tough roast beef and wasabi and felt the sharp burn of anguish molest the nerves within my nose. Truly, I had met a traitor’s end.

Strangely, the manager of the restaurant is a someone who I’ve played poker with. He assured me that within a couple of months, every Monday shall be designated as Mexican food day. I am not sure whether or not he is trustworthy, given the deviousness of his overlord Paris, but I do pin a small amount of hope on this promise.

Oh – happy Independence Day.

I quickly checked the number; not international, not important – I ignored it. It stopped, and rudely resumed its barrage of noise. I considered putting it in another room, but then realized that the obnoxious device also served as my alarm clock; relief by relocation was not a viable option. Nothing good could possibly come of answering this call, but the caller was persistent.. begrudgingly, I answered.

Me: Hello?
Caller (broken English): Hey, this is Dunfield’s girlfriend.
Me: What the fuck.
Caller: 你下來，現在只有我一個人和Eva在一起。她喝多了，自己走不了。
Me: What the fuck.
Caller: Come on, I know you are a gentleman, 來幫忙
Me: 嗯，但是我不算她是lady..
Caller: 那我就這樣讓她睡在路上。。
Me: 好。
Caller: 怎麽可能，快點下來
Me: 好啦好啦，等一下。。。

You see, I’d specifically avoided going out with these people to clubs. I’m busy with work and with my own projects these days, certainly no time for such buffoonery as this. Being naked, I prudently decided to don underwear and a hat before descending down to aid the drunkards.

Eva and I, despite our names being so similar, haven’t exactly been chummy chum as of late, and I must admit that I was rather unenthusiastic about helping out. There she was, lying on the sidewalk puking what ever was left in her stomach into the gutter. Dunfield apologized to me for the sleep disturbance, to which I replied that all would be fine if he had a cigarette, alas, he did not.

After several attempts at helping her stand, we were forced to adopt the “Sonderkommando” approach. I grabbed the arms, and Dunfield grabbed the legs. In this way, we carried her about thirty meters to the bench close to the door of my apartment. Here, we rested, and discussed the possibilities of ascending six flights of stairs (my apartment unfortunately has no elevator). Eventually, I decided to carry her up on my back. Heroically, I carried her up, only pausing once on the fifth floor so as to catch my breath.

I propped her up against the wall just inside the door to my apartment, and found her some water, which she proceeded to spill all over the floor. After watching her vomit some more, and a bit of towel-foot mopping, Dunfield and I helped her to a bed and gave her some water. I chilled out with Dunfield and his girlfriend for a few minutes and sent them on their way. It was now close to five and I couldn’t sleep; my precious sleep had been disturbed by post-midnight tomfoolery, worse yet, I didn’t have a cigarette.

Despite this, I felt that perhaps at least something had been accomplished. Perhaps Eva realized that the blame for the result of being a drama queen, rested solely with her. Perhaps she realized that even without my being involved in her nightlife activities, things were still messed up and dramatic (as I’d heard from Dunfield and his girlfriend); the problem rested with her, and not with me or anyone else. Yet perhaps more, she would stop trying to put the blame for things that went wrong on others instead of accepting personal responsibility.

Well – probably not, but there’s a chance, right?

I’m not at all sure what’s going to happen this weekend, but I guess it’s going to involve the imbibing of a not so insignificant amount of alcohol. Needless to say, there are most likely going to be some interesting things to write about in the next few days.