One of the oddest things occurs in my morning criminal law class.

Its taught by the Dean of the law school, and he's a pretty intimidating guy. Partly because he's the Dean, partly because he seems to know everything in the world there is to know, and partly because of his manner. When you're wrong, he doesn't exactly come right out and say you are wrong, but rather brings up examples that make your point look ridiculous. And of course, you look pretty stupid in the process.

When he cold calls on people, he's generally a bit nicer to them if they get something wrong. But when you raise your hand and bring up something stupid, you can be sure you'll hear some repressed laughs out of the class when he's through dissecting why you are wrong.

You would think that most people would shy away from volunteering, given the likelihood that you are going to be made to look like a idiot. Or at least, only extremely good points would be made. But no. For some reason in criminal law, more than any other class, the fools come out of the woodwork. They raise their hands with more gusto than any other class, they say things that make absolutely no sense given the day's lesson, and they get made to look like utter simpletons. And the best part is, after the Dean has told them why they are incorrect, they sometimes still try to defend a totally indefensible point! Its actually pretty entertaining.

And its not that it takes the Dean to tell the rest of us why that person is completely wrong. As soon as the sucker gets done with his "point," you can see half of the class silently chuckling or shaking their heads, wondering what in the world would possess this person to raise their hand and ask for punishment. If you have no clue what you're talking about (and that much is obvious to all of us), then why are you volunteering?

For instance, the Dean was asking why a certain person could not be prosecuted under a certain statute. And the answer was complicated, involving other statutes and a little bit of philosophy. It was not an easy question to answer. And someone raised their hand and stated that the offense was not covered by the statute at the time.

Never mind that the first thing we stated in class was that the offense was EXPLICITLY stated in the statute at the time. Never mind that the case actually went out of its way to state that the statute did cover the offense. This student, who clearly did not read the case in any meaningful way, in the classroom where you are most likely to be made a fool out of, decided that this was the perfect time to volunteer an answer.

For some reason, all the Dean did was correct her and move on to some other volunteer. This person decided to bring up some strange example regarding taxes and young children. Mind you, the case we're dealing with is whether the omission to care for a bedridden parent is a criminal offense. After the Dean went through and showed why this example would not work, the student oddly pressed the issue. Which forced the Dean to say something like, "What is your point with all this?" And the tone was such that laughter ensued.

Am I exempt from being made to look like a fool in class? Not a chance. I'm sure I'll get cold called on at some point soon, get nervous, stumble through my answers, and generally look like a doofus. But my point is, why are these people, who have obviously not read the material or thought through their question, raising their hands in the one class where the penalty for such appears to be the highest?

I'm currently watching "The Transporter" on FX. I think they're doing a promotional thing since "The Transporter 2" is coming out in a week or so. The previews of Transporter 2 make it seem pretty awesome. And I've seen the last hour or so of this movie, and its pretty much non-stop action. However, there appears to be no plot that I can ascertain. Granted, I've only seen the last half of the movie, but usually even in that case you can pick up why the guy is fighting the bad guys - trying to stop a nuclear attack, trying to get back at evil bosses, whatever. With this movie though, I have no earthly idea.

Has anyone seen The Transporter in its entirety?

On the ABC Family channel, right now, the movie Cruel Intentions is showing.

You know the movie - it has Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillipe, and Reese Witherspoon. Its a tale of betrayal and sex. Very family oriented though. Especially the part where Phillipe tells the girl he wants to kiss her, not on her mouth, but "down there," which she apparently loves. And how Gellar says Phillipe can sleep with her provided he does certain tasks. A real movie for the kids.

Whats next, Indecent Proposal?

Many a 1L (first year law student) fears the "Socratic method" that goes on in law school classes. For those of you unfamiliar with it, here is basically what happens.

The professor will call on a student and ask him the facts of the case we are dealing with today. If the sucker ever sounds unsure of a fact, the professor will, in an incredibly intimidating tone, ask if the student is sure. Its scary enough of a tone to make you question whether you even know if the sun is bright or the sky is blue. But lets assume that the facts are stated correctly.

The professor will then proceed to grill the student on the holding (decision) and the rationale for that holding. Lets assume that extremely lucky student has managed to get through all of this without getting rattled. Now... the professor will ask why the rationale leads to that holding. Or the prof may ask hypotheticals. Or maybe just some general theory. Mind you, this is the same student the entire time. And it can last for a long time. I saw one last for 20 minutes or so on my first day. There are many tales, including one concerning HJCooper's fiance, of people breaking down in tears in the middle of the constant stream of questions.

And a poor kid who, two minutes into his first class of law school got grilled by the Dean of the school, also got called on in our torts class later on that first day. Generally, only 2 or 3 people are called on, and these classes have between 60 and 120 people. There were some laughs when he was called on in that second class, partly of pity, and partly of joy that it didn't happen to any of us.

I have yet to be called on. In one class, I have tried to preemptively raise my hand for random questions or answers, in order to make it less likely that I actually get called on to go over a case. I'm not sure if this is going to work; it may actually result in me talking more than I would like, or giving me a false sense of security.

But the Socratic method is a very effective way of getting you to do your reading before class. And not only do the reading, but understand the reading and be able to point to various things in the case within a very short amount of time. I don't think I've read this intensely in my life. Part of me wants to get called on in some instances, but only because I think it will lead to me not being called on for the rest of the course. But again, even that isn't guaranteed.

Thanks to Timmer Robinson for this nugget.

Flying Spaghetti Monster theory

I've watched a lot of TV in the past few days. As this has been the first time I've had consistent access to cable in the past year and a half, I've decided I need to make up for lost time. However, there have been some downsides. One in particular, is Sportscenter's 50 states in 50 days campaign.

For those of you who watch ESPN, you probably have seen the commercials and promotions for this moronic little mini-series within Sportscenter. They feature one state, talk about its great athletes and teams, and then random facts about it.

Why?

I have no idea.

Sports is a very location specific thing. I grew up in South Jersey, so I like Philadelphia teams. Is there any other reason why I like the Eagles and Phillies? Not really, I just have been conditioned to like the teams I grew up around. So it stands to reason that I, or most other people, would not care very much about teams or athletes from other states. Certainly there are some small addendums to this - where you went to college, where you currently live, etc. But, for instance, I would assume that the great majority of Sportscenter viewers change the channel when the state of the day is like, Idaho or something. Because honestly, who cares about Idaho?

And what happens when they feature a state you care about? Well yesterday they featured Pennsylvania, and started talking about great QBs from the state, cheesesteaks, and the Eagles and Sixers. I know these things. So I just changed the channel halfway through.

And to top it off, they play this extremely annoying theme song when the segment begins (or as a clue that the segment will be played soon, like after the next commercial break). The song is a big warning siren indicating that if you do not change the channel soon, you will suffer the consequences. So ESPN is giving away the surprise factor too, giving viewers more than ample warning to change the channel.

I can't wait for these stupid things to be over.

Well I'm up and running at UVA Law.

*There are two classes of citizens in the 1L law class. Those who have purchased the law laptop bundle, and those who did not. If you purchased the bundle (think of a normal laptop and tack on an extra grand to the price), you get all the support you ever need from the ITC people. If you didn't, they don't care a great deal. Case in point - on this Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, ITC is running approximately 15 one hour seminars on how to set up your laptop, but you have to have purchased the law bundle to attend. For people who did not purchase the bundle, you have 3 seminars to choose from later this week, all conveniently scheduled when you would have class.

Since I was going through internet withdrawl, I was determined to figure out on my own how to connect to the UVA wireless network. It took me an hour or so yesterday, involving these digital certificates and other stuff (BTW, if you're downloading a certificate, DO NOT USE FIREFOX), but its working now, and I'm pretty psyched about it.

*Eggs are cheaper to buy down here. I bought 18 for like a buck fifty at the supermarket.

*My apartment has almost no furniture. My bedroom looks good. My roommate's bedroom looks good. But the living room consists of my sphere chair, my tv and playstation, and a lamp I bought from Wal-Mart. Thats it. In the dining area, there is my roommate's old desk. We have no chairs, no sofas, no tables, nothing. Its not like we have to entertain or anything, but it looks pretty sparse. Hopefully we can get it set up over the next month or so.

*I went out to a bar last night with like every other first year law student. Obviously, it was packed. Jam packed. I haven't been out drinking with people like this in quite awhile... its like freshman year at Duke all over again. Looking into crowds hoping to recognize someone. Sitting around drinking until stupid. Awkward conversations where someone asks if you and some other person have met, you say "no" at the same time the other person says "yes." Fun stuff.

I'm on a quest for boxes.

When my laptop arrived three weeks ago, I saved the big dell box it came in. I reasoned that I would need that box to pack up some of my stuff when moving day arrived.

I had no idea how valuable that box would become. Boxes are like gold to me right now. I spent my night at Kaplan hunting for boxes that I could take back with me. There were a couple big boxes lying near a desk, but I was told they were already claimed. Apparently other people are box hunting too. However, these people did not have the will that I have. They did not think it was "right" to remove the contents from a box and then take the now empty box.

I have no such reservations.

I found a box that once held 10 reams of printer paper. It only had six reams in it, so I nicely stacked the six blocks of paper and took away my nice handled box.

I then found a box that once held 12 rolls of paper towels. 6 rolls remained. Gold! Or so I thought. But the strength to size ratio of the box did not seem ideal. It was only built to hold paper towels, entities that are very large but very light. I have no such items that are coming with me to Charlottesville. So I left that box for some other sucker.

It appears though, that I am still short a couple boxes. I heard that liquor stores are a good place to go, so I may hit up the Rite Aid liquor store near me in search of more cardboard gold.

Boxes... Need boxes...

For those of us who get a chuckle out of the whole "Intelligent Design" debate going on in Kansas, this is hilarious.

If you decide to play craps, you should prepare yourself appropriately. You're entering the most superstitious place on earth. That's one of the reasons I enjoy it so much.

Almost every single person who plays craps has a specific way they like to roll. If the point is 4, most people will make sure the dice say 1/3 or 2/2 before they roll. I, on the other hand, prefer that the dice are in some combination of 7, since 7 is the number I want to avoid rolling.

Of course, this has absolutely no effect on rolling the dice. Unless you are some sort of master dice thrower (which some people actually claim to be), its impossible to really try to roll any particular number.

Still, tensions can rise at the table, especially when alcohol is involved. Case in point: this past weekend. I'm rolling, and Fishman, Ben, and Al are flanking me. The table is pretty full, and I've established a point of 5 (I think). I'm rolling, and haven't done much other than hit a couple 6 and 8s. We're all betting on pass, so we really would like that 5. I'm in the motion of rolling again, and Al suddenly puts his arm out onto the table to place another bet down.

Now remember, this realistically has no effect on the outcome of the roll. But I've been throwing the dice low and up the side of the table. Al putting his arm down forces me to throw over his arm in a higher arc. "Veteran" craps players recognize this as trouble. Any deviation in throw arc, dice hitting a hand of someone, or hitting chips on the table, and it seems that a seven always comes up. Of course, a seven is more likely than any other number, but we'll ignore this. In this particular instance, Al sticking his arm out causes me to throw over his arm in an awkard manner, which "causes" a 1/6 for a 7 out to come up. Everyone at the table loses.

Now when someone at the table "causes" a seven by placing their hand down and hitting the dice, or making a last minute bet that freezes up the shooter, some people get pissy. I have gotten pissy on many occassions. If this happens, you usually say something loudly to your friend about what a moron that person is. However, in this case, a guy 3 spots to my right started belligerantly yelling at Al directly.

Guy: Put your chips down earlier instead of making him throw over you!
Al: What? Shut up bitch!
Guy: What did you say? You come over here and say that! I'll have you thrown out of here so fast!
Al: Its called probability, think you can handle that?

So the dealers at the table see the rising tension and try to get everyone to calm down, and things get settled. We all switch over to "don't pass," and throughly enjoy it when the belligerant guy puts his last $600 on an 8 point and the shooter seven outs. We make some comments about it being a real shame, take our money, and laugh.

Craps is a nice diversion from using reason and rationality. I'll see that a fat guy who looks like a loser is shooting, and I'll instantly bet "don't pass." I'll see a guy with 3 grand in front of him who looks like a baller and I'll bet "pass" and put some odds behind it. Of course, how they look has little to do with how they're going to roll. But thats reason and probability talking. No need for that when a lot of money is at stake...

Up and down. Up and down.

The weekend started off with a really great logic games workshop that I ran. I left feeling pretty good about it.

Then the weekend went downhill. I was driving down to Atlantic City, when suddenly my ABS (anti-lock brakes) light came on in my car. I thought to myself, "Well, its not raining, so I'm not too concerned that my anti-lock brakes aren't working." But that problem was soon compounded by the battery light coming on in my car. It wouldn't stay on all the time. Just when I hit the brakes. Or had the AC on. Or had the radio on.

So I was forced to drive the 2.5 hours (usually 1.5, but traffic was horrendous) to Atlantic City with no air conditioning. It was like 95 degrees outside. And there wasn't even much of a breeze, as I was driving pretty slow. I somehow got the car into the parking garage of the Borgata. By that time, the car sounded like it was on its last legs.

I got into the Borgata, found Al, and got a key to the room so I could grab a shower. I made it down to the craps tables, won a quick fifty bucks or so, found Ben, Al, and Fishman, and we went to the Borgata buffet with Ben's parents for dinner. As usual, the buffet was phenomenal.

The night afterwards was also great. I ended up winning 300 dollars, Fishman got insanely stupid drunk, and I had a grilled cheese with bacon at 2:30 AM. In the room at 3AM, Ben and Al convinced a drunken Fishman to attack me, which did not go well at all for him.

The weekend went downhill again in the middle of the night. For some reason, Fishman had decided to sleep in the small area between my bed and the wall. In the middle of the night, for no apparent reason, he tried crawling into bed with me. Mind you, there are four of us in the room. Ben is in bed with me, while Fishman was supposed to be in bed with Al. I start yelling at him to get in bed with Al, where he belongs. No such luck. Eventually, I'm forced to go sleep in the bed with Al, where he is sprawled out like a madman. I didn't get much sleep.

I woke up with a massive hangover. And with the thought that my car had no better than a 50/50 shot of actually starting. Neither Fishman nor the Elliott's had jumper cables, so I went to the garage and gave it the ol grade school try. No such luck. All I got was a rapid fire clicking sound that made me annoyed. I got out of the car and called 1800-roadside, which is a crappier version of AAA, but we get it with our Liberty Mutual Car Insurance. After describing the problem to the guy, he said he can either send out a jumper car or get it towed to the nearest pontiac dealership. I asked him where the nearest dealership is to Atlantic City. He asked me for the zip code.

How the fuck am I supposed to know the zip code??? Look it up you lazy bitch!

Anyway, after that, he asked me for my VIN, and I gave it to him. He decided that I was not covered by Roadside. I figured that the problem was that we just renewed the car insurance, and thus there was some communication problem on their end. Regardless, it seemed like they weren't going to be particularly helpful.

I called Kim and she suggested I go to the Borgata people and ask for a jump. The valet people were nice enough to send someone out, and he soon got me on my way. I got gas, and the car was running fine. My plan was to just get it back to Cinnaminson, or maybe take it to NTB to see if it was battery problem (although the car-inclined of you readers know what the problem actually is).

Things were going fine on the AC Expressway. But then, some problems. At the toll, for the second time on the trip, I ran into a god damn moron. The first time (on the way down), I got behind a guy who decided to put the 50 cent toll in ONE QUARTER AT A TIME. And so freakin slowly! My car at that point needed to keep moving or else it was doomed, and it nearly conked out then and there. This time, I ran into someone who put the money in, did not see the green light, and decided to just sit there. Actually, correction. He did not sit there. He actually hit the little basket a bit with his hand. For those of you who don't know what to do in this situation, you do one of two things.

1) You honk your horn and drive through.
2) You throw another fifty cents in if you are fearful of toll-police retribution

What you do not do is:

Z) Sit there, throw up your hands like its not your fault, and block traffic for a minute.

But choice Z is what this buffoon did. Thanks. My car was clearly angry at this, but eventually he found another fifty cents and drove on. My car got moving again and I once again was hopeful.

It being a Saturday afternoon, I did not expect any traffic on the AC Expressway. I was going west, which is away from the shore. Who would be leaving the shore on Saturday afternoon? Apparently some god damn moron who can't drive, as I ran into some massive accident traffic, reducing me to stop-and-go speed levels.

After a couple minutes of this, I looked at the digital clock in my car. Something wasn't right. It wasn't on for some reason. I tried to rationalize it by thinking that the clock isn't on if the radio isn't on (which makes around one percent sense). Anyway... a minute or so later all the warning lights came on in my car and the steering started getting difficult. So I pulled it onto the shoulder of the road.

My prospects of getting a jump from the stop-and-go traffic were bleak. And even if I could, the car would just die again in the traffic. I called up my Mom and she found the new paperwork for the crappy 1800 Roadside service. She made the calls and they said that a tow would be on the way.

In the meantime, it was around 98 degrees outside. There wasn't even a breeze coming by from the traffic, as it was going super slow. All I could do was sit in the passenger seat with the door open and read a few books I thankfully had in the backseat. About an hour later the tow guy showed up. I was "slightly" sweaty.

So I got towed to this place in Egg Harbor Township, which was around 5 minutes from where my car died, and about an hour from Cinnaminson. My only way to get back to Cinnaminson was Marty, but he was watching 6 kids at the swim club. So I had to wait for them to get that worked out.

In the meantime, I got to sit in this tow truck place for around 3 hours. It wasn't terrible - there were seats, a soda machine (I drank a mountain dew, the only thing that I consumed until 6 PM on this day), and an old TV that had on episodes of Night Court. I learned that their mechanic wouldn't be in till Monday, and that it most likely was a problem with the alternator. I don't know what their mechanic is going to say the cost is going to be, but I've found out that it should be approx $300, exactly my winnings from AC. But I'm worried that their mechanic is going to nail me... saying its really some higher amount. But what can I do? Towing it to a new place would entail more charges, probably more than the difference between the prices.

Marty showed up and drove me to my sister's. We had a great dinner - it was my going away dinner as I leave for CVille next Saturday. Ribs, chicken, corn-on-the-cob, twice-baked potatoes, etc. Real good stuff. But I was so exhausted I just wanted to go to bed.

The weekend took an upswing at the end of last night. I caught an episode of Entourage and also took 2nd in an 18 person online poker tourney on Pokerstars. It continued as my Mom and I went off back (for me) to Atlantic City this morning. No traffic, and we had a nice time at the Borgata. Sure, I lost a bit of my winnings, and she lost a bit too, but we had a nice buffet dinner and a fine time overall. And we didn't even hit much traffic on the way back!

And to top off this day, I just took 1st in an 18 person tourney on Pokerstars. Booyah!

But Monday morning I have to call that mechanic guy. He gets in at 8:30, so I figure 8:45. And hopefully at that point, I'm still on this up note.

I hate it when this happens.

I went to the Bagel Dish Cafe for breakfast this morning with Jimbo. I got a two egg platter, with my eggs scrambled, along with sausage, home fries, and toast. For $3.75, it didn't seem like a bad deal.

We got our food to go, came back to my place, and I opened up the styrofoam container. I expected to see my eggs scrambled. You know, fluffy, soft eggs. Something like this:



Instead, I saw what I hate the most - a flat omelete type egg substance. It seemed like the cook simply poured the egg into a frying pan, did not touch it at all while it was cooking, and then slid it out into the container.

Come on people. The "scrambling" in scrambled eggs does not refer to you mixing the yolks together before you cook. It refers to you scrambling the eggs while they are cooking, in order to get air into the eggs to make them light and fluffy.

If you have this problem, don't fret. Here are some online instructions on how to do it correctly.

Of course, I prefer to cook up some bacon before I use the pan, and then use some of the residual bacon grease to "bacon up" those eggs.

In the car just now I heard DMX's "Up In Here" song. You know how it goes.

Dun dun dun
Dun dun dun
Dun dun
Dun
Dun
Dun

Wooo!

And I got pretty pumped up. This was actually the theme song for Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2004 for the Playstation 2, and I remember how pumped it made me when I first started playing. But pretty much right after the song gets started, I get very bored with it. Yes, yall goin make me lose my cool. Up in here. I get it.

And I got to thinking - is there any other song that starts out as well as "Up in Here", but goes downhill so quickly that you want to change the station? I can't think of one off the top of my head. Its sort of like the opposite of Zombie Nation's "Oh Oh Oh," which starts out nice and slow but builds to everyone's favorite part.

To those of you who are baseball fans: you simply must watch the highlights of the Cleveland Indians / Kansas City Royals game last night. 11 runs in the 9th inning by the Indians, fueled by the worst baseball plays you have ever seen at the major league level.

Joe Posnanski, my favorite sports columnist (works for the Kansas City Star), sums it up best.

In short - three horrendous errors by the Royals. And not your every day "ground ball gets by the shortstop" error. I'm talking dropped pop ups, dropped fly balls, balls bouncing of outfielder's legs, etc. Its kind of sad to watch.



I wonder what is worse: to have a team be consistently sucky like the Royals, or to have a team that is consistently mediocre (but should be much, much better), like the Phillies. With the Royals, you know they suck, so you don't ever have any hope. The Phillies, on the other hand, manage to go on a couple hot streaks a year, and then proceed to crush your hope once you think they have a realistic shot at the playoffs. I'm going to say the latter is worse - Boston fans were media darlings for a reason. It wasn't necessarily the 86 years of no world series wins, but it was how close they came so many times. If they simply were like the Royals or Devil Rays for 86 years, people wouldn't care as much.

BTW, the Phils rallied for a big 8-4 win last night. That puts them 6 games back of the Braves for the NL East and only 1.5 games behind Houston for the wild card. Hope level rising...

Book Review: One of a Kind - The Rise and Fall of Stuey "The Kid" Ungar, the World's Greatest Poker Player

I finished reading this book yesterday, and I must say I was quite impressed with it. At the least, one thousand times better than the movie (reviewed here on this blog a few posts ago). But for now, lets just pretend that the movie (much like Rocky V), never happened. Lets analyze the book.

The author gives a full description of Stuey's life from birth until death. No punches are pulled, which is quite a nice touch. We are presented with both his vices and virtues. We get to see Stuey at the height of his abilities (World Series of Poker Champion) and also at his worst moments (begging and stealing money to buy crack). The end of the book actually becomes a bit disturbing; here was a man who had the world in his grasp, and eventually he ends up losing it all because he cannot overcome his own worst enemy - himself.

One of the most interesting devices the author uses in the book is to sprinkle in quotes from Stu about certain aspects of his life. How he felt after the WSOP win, how he could never get away from his addictions, how much he loved his daughter, etc. These actual quotes give some real insights into the way Stuey lived his life, something that an author describing his life cannot do.

The anecdotes in the book are very entertaining. From Stuey's utter crushings of top players in gin, to his inability to cook or dress properly, the stories are numerous and entertaining.

Overall, I recommend the book to anyone who has even a casual interest in the game of poker. Its not a book on poker strategy; don't expect it to give you tips on how to play certain hands or anything like that. You could possibly gain some insights on how to read and pressure people at the table (as Stuey was the master at this), but that is not why you should read it. Read it simply because it is a damn good read.


Bonus Mini Review: Ace on the River: An Advanced Poker Guide

Barry Greenstein is one of the very best poker players in the world. Better than Hellmuth, Matusow, Negraneau, and the other name players you may know.

That being said, this book is a joke. Every page is printed in color, which is nice... except there is like zero content. Most "chapters" consist of two pages. The book was originally intended to be a chapter of Super/System II, but it turned into its own book, and it shows. Some of the info is alright, but its not worth the price, which is an astounding twenty-five dollars. Read it at Barnes and Noble if you like, but good god do not purchase it.

I haven't watched this show yet. The commericals I saw for it a couple weeks ago consisted of Pauly Shore (the host) doing various things with aspiring comedians. The problem with the show seems obvious: its Pauly Shore.

I just saw a newer commercial for the show... and Pauly was noticably absent from the entire commercial. I guess the TV execs have seen the error of their ways. But can anyone conceivably think of a meeting where "Lets have Pauly Shore host the show" is the solution?

In other stupidity related news, I was driving back from Boston today and noticed something that was incredibly stupid, even for Boston standards. On I-95 South, there was a side of the road sign indicating we were on I-95 (the sign was in the Interstate shape). Directly behind it, like 5 feet maybe, was another sign. It was rectangular and was warning of us or something... It was hard to make out with the big I-95 sign obscuring the middle part of it.

So either the rectangular sign was there first and some moron decided to place the I-95 sign RIGHT in front of it... or the I-95 sign was there first and some moron decided to put the rectangular sign RIGHT behind it. Either way, I feel this is indicative of the generally moronic layout of the Boston area.

Initial thoughts from Boston:

1) It is impossible to drive around here. Impossible. Street signs for major roads are either missing or just incorrect. Street signs for sidestreets are printed in what seems to be 6 point text, making it impossible for you to read until you are right on top of the street. Roads randomly fork with no indication of what path leads where. Its like a choose your own adventure book where one choice leads to you being slayed by a dragon, and the other the guillotine. Street lights hide behind trees and telephone poles. Two way streets can barely fit one car going one direction, causing opposing drivers to look for a driveway for refuge. And every area looks the same.

Perhaps the worst part of driving around here are the actual drivers. They take their time and seem just as confused as people visiting the area (such as me and Kim). We got off the interstate at 7 PM, and were approximately 3 miles from James' house. Even with his aid on the phone, we did not arrive until 8 PM.

2) Every apartment I've been in has some form of Red Sox memorabilia from last year in it. It may be a framed cover from Sports Illustrated, or a poster with cutouts from every major newspaper in the United States, or a book written on last year's magical season. But its pretty safe to say that last year made Boston people pretty damn happy.

People even go out to places to watch the Red Sox play. At the Italian pizzeria place we went to, there were numerous people just sitting and watching the game, slowly munching away on dinner. It seemed like there purpose in coming wasn't necessarily to eat, but to watch the game in a public place. Sort of like what we did when we went to Dillo or Satty's to watch a Duke game.

3) No houses in the Boston area have central air conditioning. Its quite odd; people do not buy window units either. Luckily it wasn't too bad last night, but I can't imagine what its like when the temp hits 100 and the humidity reaches up there too.

If you look at espn.com's front page right now, there are an amazing FOUR links to the current Bill Simmons column, which uses Anchorman quotes to analyze the NBA offseason. FOUR! Come on.

16 days until I leave for Charlottesville.

Its weird having pretty much every day planned until i go away. Tonight I'm heading into the city to meet up with Al and Ben. Tomorrow I'm driving into Boston to visit James and spend the weekend there. Then I have work every day next week, and then on Friday I'm going into Atlantic City with Ben, Fishman, and Al. That Saturday I'm going back to Cinnaminson to have a bbq with my family, and then Sunday I'm going BACK to Atlantic City with my mom. Then more work, packing, and I'm off.

I don't like this feeling very much. There is no room for improvising. And also very little time for me to just sit around and blog, play poker, whatever. The fact that I could probably count up the number of free hours I have before I leave is a bit concerning, especially considering how high I value my leisure.

I've started saving boxes to transport my stuff in.

Moving-wise, Marty is taking my brother's truck and helping me move my stuff down. Odd right? My brother-in-law is taking my brother's truck to help me move down? Well, maybe not so odd for those in the know.

And in 16 days, we'll move my stuff into my new apt. And then grab a dinner, and Kim and Marty will be off, back to NJ. And I'll be wondering what to do with my first night in Charlottesville.

Meh.

Three quick movie reviews:


High Roller, the Stu Ungar Story

Stu Ungar is regarded by some as the greatest card player ever. He won three World Series of Poker main events, absolutely destroyed anyone he played in gin rummy, and could pick up the nuances of any card game instantly. He also had a big problem with drugs and sports betting. Michael Imperioli (Chris, from The Sopranos), portrays Ungar, in what I can only describe as the worst movie I've seen since War of the Worlds. It might be because I'm currently reading the book on Stu Ungar, but I think this movie absolutely blows. The musical scores do not come close to complimenting the scenes, it completely glosses over his winning back to back WSOP titles, and for some reason transforms into some sappy buddy flick in the middle parts of the movie. Do not rent this movie.


Suspect Zero

Dead people start popping up in New Mexico, and its up to crappy FBI agent Thomas Mackelway to figure out:

1) Who is killing them
2) Why they have a strange symbol on their bodies
3) Why they have their eyelids cut off
4) Why his head hurts

Carrie Anne Moss also stars as an equally crappy FBI agent. The movie is simply weird. Thats the best adjective to describe it. I can see some people really enjoying it, while others would simply shrug their shoulders. I'm a shrugging type.


Constantine

John Constantine is trying to avoid spending eternity in Hell. Having almost been sent there already, he is doing what any normal person would do in his situation - he's trying to send some demons back to hell where they belong. By doing this, he hopes to win God's grace and be sent to heaven. However, there is a problem.

Constantine discovers he has lung cancer. He doesn't have long to live.

What follows is a complete debacle of a movie.

One of the reasons that Spiderman and X-Men were such popular "Comic Book to Movie" movies was because viewers did not need to have read the comic book in order to understand or enjoy the movie. The directors of Constantine did not heed this lesson. There are multiple instances in this movie where you simply scratch your head and say, "huh?" I don't feel like describing them, but rest assured, there are many. And perhaps these things are explained in the comic book, but that isn't particularly helpful to me, or your average movie goer.

Don't rent this thing.