Day 142
I didn’t get out of bed particularly early today as a combination of yesterday’s visit to my friend’s house, an ill child and Mrs. Snowman’s snoring ensured the first floor of the house was more or less out of bounds for most of the night.
I didn’t mind this too much as it meant that I was able to watch several unhindered hours of television while clicking away on the laptop until daylight broke over Casa Snowman.
However, whilst flicking through the channels to find something reasonable to watch I discovered something rather perplexing:
The correlation between the programme titles and their actual content.
I should explain…
Most of you will have a fairly good idea of my personality by now so it will come as no surprise to learn I was trying to find something with a high filth content.
As such I was delighted to see “Dirty Women” on the programme guide.
My delight soon wilted when I discovered it was a documentary on female work practices in the Paris sewer system.
Feeling deflated on more than one level, I shrugged and tried again.
This time I located “Mega Erections”…sadly, an hour of construction workers building a bloody great bridge in Indonesia.
I thought I’d give it one last shot when I found “Candid Beavers”.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I expecting something fractionally more appealing than some actual beavers hunting for food and building a dam across a river.
In fact the only similarity with my initial expectations was that the amount of hair being shown on the screen.
Maybe I should have got a hint when I noticed it was on one of the nature channels.
I can see the producers reasoning; make a run of the mill programme and then label it with a title laced with sexual innuendo and double entendre. By the time the male population have positioned a box of Kleenex and locked the living room door, it’s been on for five minutes and their hugely inaccurate viewing figures have been logged into the national database.
With this in mind I intend to contact ESPN in the hope they’ll televise my dreadful attempts at poker. I’ve even thought of a name:
“Fucked On The Table”
Schedule it after midnight and it’ll get millions tuning in.
There can be no doubt that my proposal will never leave the drawing board and reach fruition but after today’s tournaments it was certainly an accurate title.
I entered four tournaments with a combined buy-in of $37.40.
It worked out to a cost of about 30cents a minute.
Game One saw me reach the giddy heights of 8,000 chips before my pocket Kings were cracked by A-10 with another ace on the turn.
Game Two lasted slightly longer and I even managed to get past the first break before I got optimistic and called a re-raise with 9-10 suited. I was chasing an open ended straight only to find I was drawing dead against a full house.
Even though I’d rather not tell you about the third game, I wouldn’t really be doing my duty if I neglected to inform you I called two raises all-in with A-K suited.
There is currently a fist shaped mark on my computer screen after I was beaten with Q-8 off, with the bugger hitting a Queen on the river.
Oh well, tomorrow’s another day.
Returning briefly to the theme of today’s entry I should also report that misleading titles work the other way as well.
A couple of weeks ago I was sat down quietly with the mother-in-law (an achievement in itself) when I selflessly enquired what she’d like to watch on the TV.
I briefly loaned her the remote control (another achievement) and she went through the channels until she found something that was of potential interest.
Even before the show hit the screen I could have told her that “Squirting Flowers” wasn’t a gardening programme but it was worth it to see her choke on a mouthful of jam tart.
With any luck I’ll have another attempt to increase my bank balance later tonight but first I have to write a letter of complaint to the makers of another programme with a misnomer in its title.
“Wet and Wild” had everything to do with aquatic predators and nothing to do with cheerleaders soaping each other up in a shower cubicle.
Mind you, I did once make the mistake of seeing Paris Hilton’s porn video, which was exactly as advertised and did have a justifiable name.
On balance I think I’d rather watch poo under the streets of a European city
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $13.30
I didn’t mind this too much as it meant that I was able to watch several unhindered hours of television while clicking away on the laptop until daylight broke over Casa Snowman.
However, whilst flicking through the channels to find something reasonable to watch I discovered something rather perplexing:
The correlation between the programme titles and their actual content.
I should explain…
Most of you will have a fairly good idea of my personality by now so it will come as no surprise to learn I was trying to find something with a high filth content.
As such I was delighted to see “Dirty Women” on the programme guide.
My delight soon wilted when I discovered it was a documentary on female work practices in the Paris sewer system.
Feeling deflated on more than one level, I shrugged and tried again.
This time I located “Mega Erections”…sadly, an hour of construction workers building a bloody great bridge in Indonesia.
I thought I’d give it one last shot when I found “Candid Beavers”.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I expecting something fractionally more appealing than some actual beavers hunting for food and building a dam across a river.
In fact the only similarity with my initial expectations was that the amount of hair being shown on the screen.
Maybe I should have got a hint when I noticed it was on one of the nature channels.
I can see the producers reasoning; make a run of the mill programme and then label it with a title laced with sexual innuendo and double entendre. By the time the male population have positioned a box of Kleenex and locked the living room door, it’s been on for five minutes and their hugely inaccurate viewing figures have been logged into the national database.
With this in mind I intend to contact ESPN in the hope they’ll televise my dreadful attempts at poker. I’ve even thought of a name:
“Fucked On The Table”
Schedule it after midnight and it’ll get millions tuning in.
There can be no doubt that my proposal will never leave the drawing board and reach fruition but after today’s tournaments it was certainly an accurate title.
I entered four tournaments with a combined buy-in of $37.40.
It worked out to a cost of about 30cents a minute.
Game One saw me reach the giddy heights of 8,000 chips before my pocket Kings were cracked by A-10 with another ace on the turn.
Game Two lasted slightly longer and I even managed to get past the first break before I got optimistic and called a re-raise with 9-10 suited. I was chasing an open ended straight only to find I was drawing dead against a full house.
Even though I’d rather not tell you about the third game, I wouldn’t really be doing my duty if I neglected to inform you I called two raises all-in with A-K suited.
There is currently a fist shaped mark on my computer screen after I was beaten with Q-8 off, with the bugger hitting a Queen on the river.
Oh well, tomorrow’s another day.
Returning briefly to the theme of today’s entry I should also report that misleading titles work the other way as well.
A couple of weeks ago I was sat down quietly with the mother-in-law (an achievement in itself) when I selflessly enquired what she’d like to watch on the TV.
I briefly loaned her the remote control (another achievement) and she went through the channels until she found something that was of potential interest.
Even before the show hit the screen I could have told her that “Squirting Flowers” wasn’t a gardening programme but it was worth it to see her choke on a mouthful of jam tart.
With any luck I’ll have another attempt to increase my bank balance later tonight but first I have to write a letter of complaint to the makers of another programme with a misnomer in its title.
“Wet and Wild” had everything to do with aquatic predators and nothing to do with cheerleaders soaping each other up in a shower cubicle.
Mind you, I did once make the mistake of seeing Paris Hilton’s porn video, which was exactly as advertised and did have a justifiable name.
On balance I think I’d rather watch poo under the streets of a European city
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $13.30