Friday, September 27, 2013

Quitting Time

It's Friday.  6:00 pm.  I'm shutting it down, and officially starting the weekend.
It was a decent week.  Depositions got postponed, and I spent most of the week drafting a couple of mediation briefs.  No big thing . . .
In other news, after nearly two years, the D.C. Court of Appeals issued a published opinion yesterday affirming the trial court's award in favor of P3's client.  We litigated this case for over three years before the trial court.  It was brutal.  And, having to wait almost two more years to get some closure from the appellate court also sucked.  But, I guess that is the system we're stuck with.  It certainly would have been painful to have gotten a remand for the Court of Appeals and having to re-litigate below.  Fortunately, it's done.
And, in perhaps the most exciting news of the week, P3 discovered Fanduel.Com.  I mean, where has this been in my life?  It's like fantasy football.  But, with real money.  And with tournaments.  And daily drafts.   And fantasy college games . . .  I started out slow - I've only drafted 8 NFL teams and 2 college teams this week (sarcasm alert).
Anyway, I plan on spending Saturday at Maryland Live! getting my degeneracy on (after an 8:30 am appointment at Home Depot, of course . . . fuck. me . . .).   I may or may not play poker.  I may just hangout and watch college football . . . and monkey mash some sweet, sweet VP . . .  And, Sunday, of course, will be spent watching NFL and, hopefully, making some Fan-Duel-Dollars.
And with that, I'm out . . .

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Time Keeps Rolling . . .

6:30 am . . . Sunday . . . . sitting in Terminal E at Fort Lauderdale / Hollywood International Airport awaiting a flight back to DC.  Sadly, this was not a glorious return to the Westin Diplomat.  Instead, in perhaps an apt follow up on my last post, I was in town for a mere 30 hours for a funeral.... Time rolls on . . .

I land around 10:30.  Then I have to hustle to make a noon appointment to plunk down money on cabinets and counter tops.... With any luck, I'll be freed up in time to catch the Jets get smoked by the Bills at 4:00.  Glorious end to a fantastic weekend.  On the bright side, we were able to unload our 4 tickets (and 2 parking passes) to today's game at the Meadowlands on eBay for $315... Of course, face value for the tickets is $550....  Actually, I guess the true bright side is being able to laugh off such a hit . . .

I've got more depositions scheduled for this week, and a client who wants them called off.  Which means, at the very least, I get to fight with a bunch of pricks over scheduling issues and, maybe if I'm lucky, get hauled into court to have a judge sort it all out.  If I really run good, perhaps I'll go through with the fight AND STILL have to go forward with the depos.  Jackpot!!!

I swear, next weekend I return to degenerate form...

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Revelations of a Middle Age Man

I don't think of myself as old.  Really, I don't.  It seems like just a few years ago I was a student tearing up Lulu's in D.C. on a Thursday night.  Of course, that was 17 years ago.  Lulu's doesn't exist anymore.  And the only thing I want to do now on Thursday night is get eight hours sleep...  While I still resist what I perceive as the monotony of adulthood, there are times like today when I realize my youth is most certainly over.  In no particular order:
(1) I discovered Quinoa (pronounced "keen-waa") today.  And I'm thrilled.  It's sort of like a grain; only it's not.  According to Wikipedia, "[a]s a chenopod, quinoa is closely related to species such as beetroots, spinach and tumbleweeds."  I can't independently vouch for that.  But what I do know is that it's high in protein and, despite its carbohydrate content, it doesn't have much impact on my blood sugar.  It's another healthy food I can eat.  What a great day . . .
(2)  I burned through 4 miles in 32 minutes and 38 seconds during my afternoon run in Rock Creek Park (yes, for me, that's "burning") and was thrilled . . .  When I was twenty, I didn't run unless I was being chased.  I had no reason to.  When I was thirty, I had to exercise, and I ran 10-minute miles and was happy.  Now, at forty, I'm nearly two-minutes per mile faster than a decade before.  A decade ago I was still focused on finishing the "power hour."  Now I'm focused on improving my cardio.
(3)  I've met with designers/contractors two times already this week to discuss renovation of my condo.  And I have to meet with a flooring guy tomorrow morning.  And I have to meet with the kitchen designer again Sunday.  And I have an 11:30 appointment Monday morning to meet with the kitchen contractor . . .  I use to miss time from work to play golf . . . or go on road trips to football games . . . or to the casino . . .  Now I'm missing work to deal with home renovations.  Frankly, I'd rather be working...

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Virgin Trip to Maryland Live!

I finally made it out to Maryland Live! Saturday afternoon.  After the 30 minute drive from my house, I arrived at 12:00 and was seated within 5 minutes after a new table opened.  I grabbed the 4 seat on table 37 upstairs and bought in for the full $300.  The room is nice.  Cool vibe; nice tables and chairs; good spacing between tables.  Many of the dealers and players were familiar from Charles Town.  Although the play was far less agro than the standard in West Virginia.

I won a couple of early hands by raising big aces and continuing on missed flops.  I was sitting on about $355 an hour or so in when this hand occurred:

A(s) T(s) in middle position.  I raise to $12 and get three callers.  Flop is K(s) Q(s) 3(d).  I continue for $25 and get two callers.

Turn is a red J giving me broadway and the redraw to the nut flush.  I again lead out, for $55.  I wanted two calls and was hoping I could price someone in if they were drawing.  Both villains call.

River blanks.  Pot is bloated.  Both players are very capable.  I thought about bombing the river to make it look bluffy.  But, in the end, decided to bet out $125 - a large bet on its face, but only about half the pot.  I was hoping that if villains had decent hands, they would recognize they were getting better than 3-1 and make the call.  Villain 1 tanks, but ultimately folds.  Villain two makes the call and tables T9 for the lower straight.  I scoop a nice pot.

An hour or so later I had another interesting hand.  I raise A(c) K(d) under the gun to $16.  Two callers, including villain 1 from the hand above.  The flop is J(s) A(d) 7(d).  I continue for $32 and villain 1 calls.  Turn is the 4(d).  I don't want to slow down and seem scared of the diamond.  Plus, I have the K(d) in my hand.  I lead for $58.  Villain calls.  Fuck.   The river blanks.  I'm pretty sure I'm beat.  But I know that if I check, I'm pretty much letting villain take this hand from me with a big river bet.  I consider a blocking bet, but ultimately opt against it.  If villain has a worse Ace, I expect him to check back.  Instead, he fires $85.  I fold.   My top pair, top kicker costs me $100+ and I don't even see a showdown.  Feel like I played it miserably.  A few minutes later, villain and I lock eyes and he says, "nice lay down."  Um.  For who?  Guess I'll never know.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Pete Peters and the Metropolitan Police

I won't kid myself -- I'm sort of lazy.  And I procrastinate.  I mean, I tend to do what I have to do.  But if it doesn't have to get done, it might not get done.  At least not now.  And, even if something has to get done, it still might not.  And this has gotten me in trouble in the past. 
Around 1999, I bought my first car in D.C.  A Honda Civic.  It had D.C. tags.  Shortly thereafter, I moved to Maryland, just over the D.C. border.  I'm sure I was required to register my car in Maryland.  But I didn't.  I mean, who the hell wants to deal with the DMV?  So, fast forward five years.  It's 2004.  I still have the original D.C. tags.  There is a sticker on the plates indicating the registration expired in 2002.  I'm driving from work at around 10:00 pm on Connecticut Avenue, up near Woodley Park.  I get lit up by a Capital Police.  I pull over to the side of the road.  He sits in his vehicle.  Five minutes later, I'm surrounded by no less than 5 patrol cars with lights glaring.  What. The. Fuck?   Officers eventually come over and explain to me that my registration is several years expired and that I could be arrested and jailed for this offense.  Um, really?  You have nothing better to do than surround my car with 5 officers and threaten to detain me for an unregistered vehicle?  Thank god there is no real crime in D.C.  I plead ignorance.  The officer inquires whether I did not know that my car was unregistered or whether I did not know I had to register my car in the first place?  "I just didn't know."  Ultimately, I am not arrested.  Instead, I'm handed a rather expensive summons and told to drive directly home and to not drive again until my car is properly registered.
So, I get home and look into this whole registration nonsense.  What a pain in the ass.  And, given the amount of time my car had been unregistered, the process was also going to involve a large fine.  Fuck this.  The next day, I drove over to the local Hyundai dealership.  I went in and asked the salesman whether they would buy my car as a trade in "assuming it may or may not actually be registered?"  "Sure.  No problem."   An hour later, I rolled away with a new Hyundai Tucson . . . the dealer would take care of the registration and necessary paperwork.  And my old Civic was now their issue.  Problem solved . . .
Fast forward . . .
After a few years driving around in a Korean SUV, I came to realize that you can't impress the ladies with a Hyundai.  Thusly, in 1998, I ditched the Hyundai in favor of a G37:
Side Note:  after a few years driving around in a G37, I came to realize the only people who were impressed with the ride were middle age men.  Not exactly my target audience... Anyhow . . .
My G was properly registered.  Always. 
By 2011, after numerous trips to Jersey for Jets games and poker in AC, my G had approximately 60,000 miles on it.  And, after getting stuck on the Beltway in a snowstorm, I realized that a rear-wheel drive sports coup might not be the best choice for D.C.'s winters. 
Thus, I did the only sensible thing - I went back to the Infiniti dealership, and traded in the old G for a new G37x (all wheel drive).  The dealer simply transferred my tags from the old car to the new, and I was off . . .
A month or so later, I received the registration materials in the mail.  Along with the documentation was a sticker for the license plate, indicating the registration was valid until 2014.  This sticker was to be placed over the old sticker (which came when I registered the old car) which read 2010.  OK.  Let me get this straight -- you want me to peel off this sticker?  You want me to walk around to the back of my car?  You want me to place this new sticker on top of the old one?  That seems like at least 30 seconds of effort.  Fuck. That. Noise.  Instead, I stuck the documents in my glove box, where they remained until this morning...
Fast forward to this morning.  It's 9:20.  I'm stuck in traffic on 22nd Street heading to the office a block away.  The MPD SUV behind me suddenly lights me up.  Interesting.  I pull over into the bike line.  The female officer gets out, walks over, identifies herself, and says:
"You know your registration expired in 2010?"
PPP -- "No ma'am; I'm fairly certain the car is registered."
MPD: -- "Can I see your license and registration?"
PPP - "Sure; let me see if I can find it in this mess . . ."
I search the glove box, through the miscellaneous documents I've shoved in there over the past several years.  I don't find the actual registration card.  However, I do find the 2014 sticker, which I hand over to the officer . . .
MPD:  "You know this sticker is suppose to be on your license plate, right?"
PPP:  "Oh."
MPD: "Hand it over and I'll stick it on for you . . ."
PPP:  [In my head -- "for reals?"]  "That would be awesome . . ."
The MPD officer actually takes the sticker and puts it on my back tag for me.  She calls back, "you're good now."
PPP:  "Do you accept tips?"
MPD officer smiles and gets back in her car . . .
If there's a lesson to be learned here, I think it's this:  not all cops are dicks.  In the alternative, perhaps the lesson is that 30 seconds spent in 2011 would have saved me 5 minutes in 2013.  Or, maybe, the real lesson is that sometimes, laziness pays off with a semi-decent story . . .

Monday, September 9, 2013

Back in the Saddle

It's September.  Fall is [almost] in the air.  It was the weekend.  Back in action.
First stop, AC.  I got into town Friday night, caught Jim Breuer at the Music Box at Borgata, and called it an early night.  I woke up Saturday morning from my room on the 36th floor of Harrah's Waterfront Tower and opened the curtains to this view:

Not a bad way to start the day.
After breakfast, I drove out to Absecon to make a beer run for the Sunday morning tailgate.  Then it was out for a quick 4 mile run.  I made it back in time to catch the beginning of the second quarter of the Miami - Florida game.  The swagger may indeed me back [The U!!!].  I spent most of the afternoon just watching college football and monkey mashing some sweet, sweet Video Poker.  Here's a shot of the hand-of-the-day: 
Dealt quads on a 10-handed bonus poker machine.
After a great dinner at Mortons, I called it an early night in light of the drive up to the swamp the following morning.
Sunday.  10:00 am.  Breakfast beer.  Hard to believe another year has passed by.  Back in the saddle again for another disappointing season of Jets football.
Thanks to Maureen (as made semi-interweb famous by my buddy Zeen) for the shirts!
No matter how shitty the Jets are, it's always nice to be back in Section 247A enjoying the view for the home opener:
Special thanks to Levonte Davis for the miracle win and the 1-0 record!  Nick Folk's game-winning field goal was the perfect cap to a great weekend.
And now . . . back to the grind . . .

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Bad Luck and Crying Witnesses

Yes, I'm still alive. Although it's been a tiring past 5 days.  I left for AC Thursday morning, and had to come back early Monday (Labor Day) and head straight to work to prepare for a Wednesday deposition.  I ended up working 7 hours on Labor Day in a steaming hot office operating under a holiday HVAC schedule.  Tuesday, I was up by 5:00 am to edit and revise some letters before spending close to 15 hours (yes, 15 hours) preparing a witnesses for a 30(b)(6) deposition.  Then, yesterday, after 3.5 hours sleep, I was again up at 5:00 am doing some last minute preparation before the actual deposition.  While details would not be appropriate, suffice it to say at 3:30 PM, after about 6 hours of testimony, I found myself taking my witness for a walk around the block trying to get her to stop crying so we could proceed with her testimony.  It's not every day your corporate designee, in a 30(b)(6), breaks down in tears during a video taped deposition, about corporate insurance issues.   THREE TIMES!!!  I mean, she wasn't testifying about how someone killed her fucken puppy!!!  Anyway, it was a long and shitty day.
Anyway, in happier news (or, if we take a results-oriented view, crappier news), I did get a couple of sessions of $1/2 in at Borgata over the weekend.  Decent hands were few and far between, and any semblance of luck eluded me.  Friday, I played 4 hours and dropped $57.  The hand of the day was as follows:
PPP looks down at 66 on the cut-off.  UTG opens to $10 and gets 3 callers.  P3 is sitting on about $290 and obviously calls.  Flop is Q(h)  6(h)  K(h).  It checks around to me and I bet out $40 (just under pot).  UTG and one other player folds.  MP, young and agro, calls, and an old lady calls.  The turn is a black 9.  Young agro tanks and contemplates a bet.  I suspect he's semi bluffing his heart draw.  Eventually, he bets out $75.  I'm prepared to shove on him, but Old Lady beats me to it, shoving her last $255.  Slim chance old lady is bluffing here.  She's hit one of the two draws.  I fold.  Agro ultimately folds, and Old Lady shows the flopped flush.  Nice slow play, I guess.  Now, if she flats the turn, I've really got a tough decision to make.  Fortunately, it didn't need to be made.
I played another 3.5 hours Sunday at Borgata and dropped $143 (a total of $300 in the hole over the two days).   Again, no real hands.  In fact, late in the session, I was dealt AJ in early position, raised to $10 and got re-popped to $35 and laid it down.  It was about the best starting hand I had all session.  Two notable hands:
I limp with 74 off from the big blind, sitting on about $250.  We go 5 to the flop of 844, with two hearts.  Pretty nice.  I lead for $13 and get two callers.  Turn is a third heart.  I check, middle position bets $35 and late position repops to $90.  Fuck me.  I fold my trips.  Middle position calls.  Turn is the 7 of hearts.  Middle position checks, late position shoves, middle position calls and the hand is flush over flush.  Fuck me.  If the god damn 7 hearts hits the turn instead of the river, I triple up.  Sometimes, timing is everything in poker.
I bit later, I'm sitting on about $230 and getting bored.  I limp into the pot with Q9 spades.  Mistake # 1.  We go heads up to a 936 (two clubs) flop.  Dude leads for $10.  I raise to $35 with top pair, Q-kicker.  Dude calls.  Turn blanks.  Dude checks, I barrel for $60.  Mistake #2.  Dude calls.  I'm done with the hand.  River is the A clubs (putting the flush on the board).  I check and dude checks back and flips over AA.  Um.  OK.  I guess limping AA UTG CAN be an effective play . . . at least against me...
I basically packed it in after that hand, knowing I was not playing good poker and had lost my patience. 
Anyway, it's Thursday already, and I'm planning on heading back to Harrah's tomorrow to spend the weekend in AC before heading up to the J-E-T-S opener Sunday morning....  Perhaps I'll get some luck this weekend.