Despite leaning quite heavily in the direction of I-absolutely-need-to-move-back, I am still not sure Seattle was a mistake. I learned a lot of things by moving there, including what I was taking for granted. One thing I am sure of: its not any kind of fear of travel or new places that keeps me from living all over the world. I say this because before flying home I slept in an airport. The reason I slept in an airport is that my flight east on Christmas Eve was at the unholy hour of 7am. That makes boarding time 6:30, and if you add two hours of walking between security theatres trying to figure which one will be least likely to involve getting sexually assaulted by a male TSA agent, that takes you back to 4:30am. No trains were running at that time. I did not want to pay to keep my car in a lot for 10 days. That exhausts my travel options, because the bus tunnel doesn't go all the way to the airport, and since I think surface street buses are a waste of space, money, and raw materials, and the scum of tranist, I would only take them if I had no other choice. Picture the way Gandalf looked in the snowstorm saying "I would not take the road to Moria unless I had no other choice." That's me and [surface street] buses. They're gay.
Anyway. So I took the train and got there at like 2 am and then discovered that all of the ticket counters were closed. There was no way for me to print my boarding pass. I had been planning to sleep at the gate, wake up, and shuffle on to the flight. Instead, I slept in baggage claim for 2 hours, woke up, got through security without being fondled, and then slept for like half and hour at the gate.
The point of all that was, I was not put off by having to sleep overnight at an airport. It is definitely something I would have never tried unless I had to, (or unless I was under the intoxicating spell of some girl) but now that I've done it, it seems like no big deal. I think I could handle travel.
I think the real barrier to moving away is all of the people I know here. Wherever I go, I am always going to want to find my way back eventually. Maybe its not Seattle; maybe I've just spent a lifetime on the East Coast separating out all the cool people from the losers and I am just being impatient that I can't replace the friends I made in 9 years of high school and college.
So, I want to both: travel, and move back home. A rough plan is forming in my mind...something about staying in Seattle until next december, traveling (Europe/Russia) for a month, and then coming back home. I don't know where exactly I will live, but I needs to be close enough to the Philly area to have frequent and awesome parties.
I was planning to take a cooking class. Tonight I got the bright idea that cooking awesome food would be a great way to get people over and build up enough friends/acquaintances to have good parties.
Also, I want to be in a band. I watched Scott Pilgrim vs the World, and while I was a little disappointed that the main character ended up with the girl of his dreams, it did make me want to be in a band. I don't know what I have to do...but I love music and I want to make some, and I can't write any on my own. The best I can do is rewrite the lyrics of songs that other people have written. Whatever. I want to be in a band. It looks like so much fun.
So...I need to learn to cook, join a band, find a job on the east coast and plan a trip to europe which preferably includes learning a foreign language. Cool.
[Part 1.5]
The salsa combo from wednesday night:
Cross body lead, guy does left turn under her arm, lands facing away from her, her hand in your left
on 1,2,3, step across her to your left, pass her hand to your right behind your back.
lead an inside turn into a hug check (your left to her left shoulder, your right to both her right and her right shoulder)
hug check goes into a right turn, you're leading it with just your right
pick up left-to-left on top
then the hard part:
on 1,2,3, you to a half turn to the left, and swing your RIGHT arm over your head to your left shoulder. you should end up with your left arm going over your right shoulder to her arm and your right arm on top connecting over your left shouulder
you are going to the left--maybe its a cross body lead, Idk. Pull her around with your left hand / right shoulder.
then...right somes off somehow, and you go under the left, then you turn to your right, breaking the connection with your right hand over your waist and picking it up again, then you go to her left and pull her into closed position (her left arm goes over your head). Yeah, I wish I remembered this better.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Alone in the Crowd
[Alone in the Crowd]
I entered the pseudo-dance club still riding my driving high. When I say driving high, I am not merely attempting a clever turn of phrase, nor referring to an actual chemical imbalance akin to narcotics. I'm talking about something that happens to my personality when green lights line up and I can use my car's turbo. People who bitch about other people, specifically the ones who incorrectly assume there is a strong correlation between driving fast and getting somewhere in a timely manner, don't understand why people like me thrive on finding places where they can get up to 80 (indicated) on surface streets. Getting somewhere in a timely manner is typically not an issue of speed but of making the correct moves, the right lane changes, using the right routes. For a thorough treatise on the subject I suggest you read part of The Art of Driving, by Biff Becker. Anyway, those people, likewise, have probably never exited their car thinking that their life, the universe, and everything, is awesome, never heard their car's locking mechanism chirp behind them in agreement as they walk away.
I was late, later than usual, but the one girl I go dancing with, the only one (of the three and a half I usually dance with) who was planning to show up that night, had not gotten back to me about what time she was getting there. She has an incredibly attractive body. What I mean by that is that she pretty much spends the entire night dancing--she often can't get off the floor before yet another guy intercepts her for a dance. I pretty much only get to dance with her because I know her and she loves dancing with me and comes looking for me. With all that, I end up dancing with her like three times on a normal night. Anyway, the point of all that was really just that I can show up late and sneak in and she is so busy dancing she never knows when I actually get there. Back to the story. Wait, first: we'll call her Pink Shirt Girl. You don't need to know why...it involves my washing machine. Anyway.
As I checked my leather jacket, which I think is awesome and which gets a moderate amount of compliments that are unfortunately of dubious sincerity, the DJ began playing one of like 5 versions of a song with the phrase "zoom zoom" in the chorus--the version I like. Perhaps, "love" is a better word. "Love dancing to" would be better yet. I came down the large starcase and asked the first girl I saw to dance. She was quite attractive (which is normally cause for apprehension) and standing in front of the fan, but in my jubilation I didn't hesitate. She said she was sitting that one out, or whatever. I walked around the side looking for someone else. I saw no one, save for a bunch of guys also looking for girls, and an older woman that I didn't find attractive at all and who was asked to dance by some guy just as I passed her. I came around to where Pink Shirt Girl and my other salseras like to stand, still looking. The song ended before I found anyone. During the next song I surveyed the dance floor for Pink Shirt Girl, and realized she was not there.
Then I zoned out for a while, because there was no one there that I actually wanted to talk to, and standing around not talking to anyone is boring. When I came to, I went walking around looking for someone to dance with again, and this older woman asked me to dance. Don't get me wrong: she wasn't old, just older than me, by like more than a few years. So like, 30s. "Older" means 30s, maybe higher. I'm not really sure whats going on, but I'm starting to get the impression that I am quite popular with a lot of the older women. I think the circles under my eyes make me look older. Anyway, ...yeah, lets skip the rest of the details. I like writing prose, but they are not relevant.
A half hour after I got there, I had gotten one dance and one rejection, both of which I previously described, and Pink Shirt Girl never came. I was standing in the corner looking for girls to dance with. There were none, really; the few girls that I didn't mind dancing with were hot items and I couldn't get to them before someone else asked them to dance. My good mood had withered into the sort of stout denial of misery that I usually feel when I go salsa dancing by myself in this city. So I left. Wait, is that everything....yeah I think thats all the right details. Wait, no, there was one super attractive girl I've wanted to dance with for a while, but she is out of my league until I can find a good dance studio and get some lessons. So...that's where I'll be this weekend. Anyway, I didn't dance with her, and the realization that I wasn't going to dance with her made me ask what I'd come for anyway, so I left. So, onward.
Today, I found out that Pink Shirt Girl was on a date last night, the kind of date that went so well that she didn't make it out to dancing at all. This was a disappointing plot twist for me, because after doing my best to, you know, read signals, and all that b.s., I was leaning towards she likes me, and away from she just likes hugging me every time she sees me. Turns out, I was wrong again. Since she is a friend, and since, because she is one of the few girls I go dancing with, asking her out and getting rejected would have spoiled the usefulness of that frienship (for me), I suppose that avoiding it by not asking her out was the right move. However, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost something. And there is that small voice somewhere in my head screaming maybe she really is interested, and I should have been more aggressive, but I'm learning to ignore that one. I think Laura's perpetual unpredictability caused me to put too much faith in it. But I digress. Whatever my chances were with Pink Shirt Girl before, it looks like I'm locked in the friend zone now.
We are now back down to zero credible possiblities here in the dating/making out department.
I may swallow my pride, grow up, and start hanging out with Firefly Girl again, due in large part to the fact that I want to watch season 3 of Castle. I don't like sexual tension--if thats the right word for sitting, on your 5 year old Ikea futon that is poorly covered by a queen bed mattress cover that keeps coming off when you sit down because it doesn't fit, next to a girl that you want to make out with but can't. I hate that. I think girls thrive on it though. I think they love that shit, the way I love leaning in close but not actually kissing them. I think platonic stalemates, one-way attraction and unrequitted feelings stroke some kind of drama-themed pleasure-circuit in their brains. Thats why they love romantic comedies so much. You'll notice, when they throw eye candy into like an action movie in order to attract male viewers, they don't add a girl who is "its complicated"-ing some guy. They add a girl who takes her top off right before the scene switches away (see: Snakes on a Plane).
[Chief Medical Log, Stardate Bullshit]
I admit, I didn't entirely believe my prediction about the doctors being unable to find out what was wrong with me. I had myself kind of convinced that a pulmonary shunt was responsible for me passing out at altitude. Turns out...I do have a pulmonary shut, but its not a big deal (its "not significant"), and they have no idea what caused my mini blackouts, and also I'm apparently in great shape. So I guess I can go skiing now.
So, yeah. Life is one great mystery, or something. I'm going to find a suitable gay-sounding inspirational phrase like that to use as conversation segue, and put the whole thing out of my mind.
[The Organizational Announcement where they tell everyone I'm being punted to a new team]
In 2010, all Ordering <Fluff>. <Fluff>. <Fluff fragment>, <long-ass fluff fragment>.
<Fluff fragment>, <fluff fragment>. <Fluff>. Thoroughout this year, [teammate 1] has [figured out how to fix it]. In order to <fluff>, we will [shuffle a bunch of people around].
<Fluff>. <Fluff fragment>, <fluff fragment>. <Superfluff with +1 busswords>. <Fluff>.
In order to <fluff>, [teammate 1], [me], and [teammate 2] from [my team] will join [new team] <fluff>. [teammate 1 is awesome at everything] and [me] and [teammate 2] will be [there also].
I would also like to [we're getting another guy, too].
<Fluff>
<Generic "holiday" pleasantry>
I entered the pseudo-dance club still riding my driving high. When I say driving high, I am not merely attempting a clever turn of phrase, nor referring to an actual chemical imbalance akin to narcotics. I'm talking about something that happens to my personality when green lights line up and I can use my car's turbo. People who bitch about other people, specifically the ones who incorrectly assume there is a strong correlation between driving fast and getting somewhere in a timely manner, don't understand why people like me thrive on finding places where they can get up to 80 (indicated) on surface streets. Getting somewhere in a timely manner is typically not an issue of speed but of making the correct moves, the right lane changes, using the right routes. For a thorough treatise on the subject I suggest you read part of The Art of Driving, by Biff Becker. Anyway, those people, likewise, have probably never exited their car thinking that their life, the universe, and everything, is awesome, never heard their car's locking mechanism chirp behind them in agreement as they walk away.
I was late, later than usual, but the one girl I go dancing with, the only one (of the three and a half I usually dance with) who was planning to show up that night, had not gotten back to me about what time she was getting there. She has an incredibly attractive body. What I mean by that is that she pretty much spends the entire night dancing--she often can't get off the floor before yet another guy intercepts her for a dance. I pretty much only get to dance with her because I know her and she loves dancing with me and comes looking for me. With all that, I end up dancing with her like three times on a normal night. Anyway, the point of all that was really just that I can show up late and sneak in and she is so busy dancing she never knows when I actually get there. Back to the story. Wait, first: we'll call her Pink Shirt Girl. You don't need to know why...it involves my washing machine. Anyway.
As I checked my leather jacket, which I think is awesome and which gets a moderate amount of compliments that are unfortunately of dubious sincerity, the DJ began playing one of like 5 versions of a song with the phrase "zoom zoom" in the chorus--the version I like. Perhaps, "love" is a better word. "Love dancing to" would be better yet. I came down the large starcase and asked the first girl I saw to dance. She was quite attractive (which is normally cause for apprehension) and standing in front of the fan, but in my jubilation I didn't hesitate. She said she was sitting that one out, or whatever. I walked around the side looking for someone else. I saw no one, save for a bunch of guys also looking for girls, and an older woman that I didn't find attractive at all and who was asked to dance by some guy just as I passed her. I came around to where Pink Shirt Girl and my other salseras like to stand, still looking. The song ended before I found anyone. During the next song I surveyed the dance floor for Pink Shirt Girl, and realized she was not there.
Then I zoned out for a while, because there was no one there that I actually wanted to talk to, and standing around not talking to anyone is boring. When I came to, I went walking around looking for someone to dance with again, and this older woman asked me to dance. Don't get me wrong: she wasn't old, just older than me, by like more than a few years. So like, 30s. "Older" means 30s, maybe higher. I'm not really sure whats going on, but I'm starting to get the impression that I am quite popular with a lot of the older women. I think the circles under my eyes make me look older. Anyway, ...yeah, lets skip the rest of the details. I like writing prose, but they are not relevant.
A half hour after I got there, I had gotten one dance and one rejection, both of which I previously described, and Pink Shirt Girl never came. I was standing in the corner looking for girls to dance with. There were none, really; the few girls that I didn't mind dancing with were hot items and I couldn't get to them before someone else asked them to dance. My good mood had withered into the sort of stout denial of misery that I usually feel when I go salsa dancing by myself in this city. So I left. Wait, is that everything....yeah I think thats all the right details. Wait, no, there was one super attractive girl I've wanted to dance with for a while, but she is out of my league until I can find a good dance studio and get some lessons. So...that's where I'll be this weekend. Anyway, I didn't dance with her, and the realization that I wasn't going to dance with her made me ask what I'd come for anyway, so I left. So, onward.
Today, I found out that Pink Shirt Girl was on a date last night, the kind of date that went so well that she didn't make it out to dancing at all. This was a disappointing plot twist for me, because after doing my best to, you know, read signals, and all that b.s., I was leaning towards she likes me, and away from she just likes hugging me every time she sees me. Turns out, I was wrong again. Since she is a friend, and since, because she is one of the few girls I go dancing with, asking her out and getting rejected would have spoiled the usefulness of that frienship (for me), I suppose that avoiding it by not asking her out was the right move. However, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost something. And there is that small voice somewhere in my head screaming maybe she really is interested, and I should have been more aggressive, but I'm learning to ignore that one. I think Laura's perpetual unpredictability caused me to put too much faith in it. But I digress. Whatever my chances were with Pink Shirt Girl before, it looks like I'm locked in the friend zone now.
We are now back down to zero credible possiblities here in the dating/making out department.
I may swallow my pride, grow up, and start hanging out with Firefly Girl again, due in large part to the fact that I want to watch season 3 of Castle. I don't like sexual tension--if thats the right word for sitting, on your 5 year old Ikea futon that is poorly covered by a queen bed mattress cover that keeps coming off when you sit down because it doesn't fit, next to a girl that you want to make out with but can't. I hate that. I think girls thrive on it though. I think they love that shit, the way I love leaning in close but not actually kissing them. I think platonic stalemates, one-way attraction and unrequitted feelings stroke some kind of drama-themed pleasure-circuit in their brains. Thats why they love romantic comedies so much. You'll notice, when they throw eye candy into like an action movie in order to attract male viewers, they don't add a girl who is "its complicated"-ing some guy. They add a girl who takes her top off right before the scene switches away (see: Snakes on a Plane).
[Chief Medical Log, Stardate Bullshit]
I admit, I didn't entirely believe my prediction about the doctors being unable to find out what was wrong with me. I had myself kind of convinced that a pulmonary shunt was responsible for me passing out at altitude. Turns out...I do have a pulmonary shut, but its not a big deal (its "not significant"), and they have no idea what caused my mini blackouts, and also I'm apparently in great shape. So I guess I can go skiing now.
So, yeah. Life is one great mystery, or something. I'm going to find a suitable gay-sounding inspirational phrase like that to use as conversation segue, and put the whole thing out of my mind.
[The Organizational Announcement where they tell everyone I'm being punted to a new team]
In 2010, all Ordering <Fluff>. <Fluff>. <Fluff fragment>, <long-ass fluff fragment>.
<Fluff fragment>, <fluff fragment>. <Fluff>. Thoroughout this year, [teammate 1] has [figured out how to fix it]. In order to <fluff>, we will [shuffle a bunch of people around].
<Fluff>. <Fluff fragment>, <fluff fragment>. <Superfluff with +1 busswords>. <Fluff>.
In order to <fluff>, [teammate 1], [me], and [teammate 2] from [my team] will join [new team] <fluff>. [teammate 1 is awesome at everything] and [me] and [teammate 2] will be [there also].
I would also like to [we're getting another guy, too].
<Fluff>
<Generic "holiday" pleasantry>
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Conversations in Bars
Two nights ago, I was part of a conversation where this guy insisted that in the jungles of Guatemala, a .22 does more damage to the human body than a 50 caliber bullet. A Guatemalan gas station security guard told him so.
I expressed my skepticism to the degree required to avoid passive aggressive behavior, and then pretended to accept his claim. It was cool though. What I liked about this guy was that he was not wearing fake boobs, an ugly whig or heaps of insecurity. I like that--the lack of that--in a guy, and, you know, if some radical change occured in my life that caused me to need more guy friends, maybe we could be buddies.
I expressed my skepticism to the degree required to avoid passive aggressive behavior, and then pretended to accept his claim. It was cool though. What I liked about this guy was that he was not wearing fake boobs, an ugly whig or heaps of insecurity. I like that--the lack of that--in a guy, and, you know, if some radical change occured in my life that caused me to need more guy friends, maybe we could be buddies.
Monday, December 13, 2010
An Orphan's Silent Night
My shoes are like soaked from the rain...so maybe I'm just in a bad mood. Whatever the case, I was made aware of this song, and as I was reading the lyrics, I realized that I actually don't owe my fucking freedom to anyone in the U.S. military, especially if they volunteered. So I banged this out in like 30 minutes:
An Orphan's Silent Night
Twas the night before Christmas, he cried all alone
in a bombed out ruin of dust and stone
I'd come down the chimmney with presents to give
and to check on the family in this home that did live
I looked all about, no family nor tree
just "collateral" damage, as far as I'd see
with refuse and blood, and holes of all kinds
a sober thought came through my mind
for this house was different, it was dark and dreary
the work of a modern soldier*, that I could see clearly
the boy lay in tears, silent, alone
curled up on the floor of what used to be home
the face was so tortured, the room in such disorder
it had been visited recently by a U.S. soldier
was this the great fight, of which I'd read?
protecting our freedom, or just staying ahead?
I realized the families I saw this night
lost their lives to stray bullets, "bad intel" in the fight
on the other side of the world, children will play
and grownups would celebrate a bright christmas day
they'll enjoy privilege and freedom this year
ignorant of the harm caused to the child curled up here
I couldn't help wonder how many died alone
on a warm christmas eve, killed in their homes
the very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and started to cry
the kid looked at me and he implored:
santa, go away, I'm a Christian no more
the americans killed everyone that I hold dear
they droped a big bomb at the wedding this year
I want no part of their God or their "freedom"
the last day of my life will be the day that I kill them
the boy rolled over, and fell into sleep
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep
jacking off to ideals--thats fun--but he's right
its not a Merry Christmas for everyone this night
*"modern soldier" is meant to describe only soldiers in wars strictly after the Korean and Vietnam wars, of which I have not settled on a firm opinion.
Also, on a related topic: http://verydemotivational.memebase.com/2010/12/09/demotivational-posters-mission-accomplished/
Also: awesome (according to the movie the main engines of the shuttle burn oxygen and hydrogen, forming water vapor, making those engines greener than your car)
An Orphan's Silent Night
Twas the night before Christmas, he cried all alone
in a bombed out ruin of dust and stone
I'd come down the chimmney with presents to give
and to check on the family in this home that did live
I looked all about, no family nor tree
just "collateral" damage, as far as I'd see
with refuse and blood, and holes of all kinds
a sober thought came through my mind
for this house was different, it was dark and dreary
the work of a modern soldier*, that I could see clearly
the boy lay in tears, silent, alone
curled up on the floor of what used to be home
the face was so tortured, the room in such disorder
it had been visited recently by a U.S. soldier
was this the great fight, of which I'd read?
protecting our freedom, or just staying ahead?
I realized the families I saw this night
lost their lives to stray bullets, "bad intel" in the fight
on the other side of the world, children will play
and grownups would celebrate a bright christmas day
they'll enjoy privilege and freedom this year
ignorant of the harm caused to the child curled up here
I couldn't help wonder how many died alone
on a warm christmas eve, killed in their homes
the very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and started to cry
the kid looked at me and he implored:
santa, go away, I'm a Christian no more
the americans killed everyone that I hold dear
they droped a big bomb at the wedding this year
I want no part of their God or their "freedom"
the last day of my life will be the day that I kill them
the boy rolled over, and fell into sleep
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep
jacking off to ideals--thats fun--but he's right
its not a Merry Christmas for everyone this night
*"modern soldier" is meant to describe only soldiers in wars strictly after the Korean and Vietnam wars, of which I have not settled on a firm opinion.
Also, on a related topic: http://verydemotivational.memebase.com/2010/12/09/demotivational-posters-mission-accomplished/
Also: awesome (according to the movie the main engines of the shuttle burn oxygen and hydrogen, forming water vapor, making those engines greener than your car)
Sunday, December 12, 2010
La Despedida
La Despedida by Daddy Yankee ...notes
Como Te Voy A Olvidar = how am I going to forget you?
Soñare - dream
olvidar - forget
igual - same
perdi - lost
Entonces - then
Destino - destination
Distancia - distance
Pelea - fight
Razon - reason
recuerdo - remember
matando - killing
Dijiste - said
Esperando - waiting
Espejo - mirror
Ganando - winning
Me Esta Matando - it is killing me
This girl I know says she learned french by listening to french songs. Tonight...I wasn't trying to learn spanish, actually. I was actually trying desperately to find this song with lyrics that sound like "zoom zoom zoom!" I thought I had it--a friend was playing it on her laptop thursday, so I texted myself the track name: "buena vista social club, track 2." Well, tonight I listened to every song on Buena Vista Social Club, including track 2, and none of them were the right song. My search did take me through a lot of salsa music, including a completely different song that has the lyrics "zoom zoom zoom" but is still the wrong song. Anyway, I eventually came across this page and how can I write about this? I just did this two hours ago. Well I guess we all no I accomplished nothing today. Except for drive all the way to Northgate to get my haircut by this really cute girl from alaska who asked me directly if I had a girlfriend and then we both complained about not dating anyone and I would have asked her out but she started telling me about this guy she is "seeing" or "dating" or whatever its called, so I left the place with a $40 bottle of conditioner that has so far provided an inadequate defense against my advancing hairline and without asking her out. Anyway, lets skip to the end: I've just listened to La Despedida by some guy Daddy Yankee about 30 times, and I still can't figure out what its about. I like it though. It has a meregue beat, unfortunately, and not a salsa, and...then I have a clever ending to this.
Como Te Voy A Olvidar = how am I going to forget you?
Soñare - dream
olvidar - forget
igual - same
perdi - lost
Entonces - then
Destino - destination
Distancia - distance
Pelea - fight
Razon - reason
recuerdo - remember
matando - killing
Dijiste - said
Esperando - waiting
Espejo - mirror
Ganando - winning
Me Esta Matando - it is killing me
This girl I know says she learned french by listening to french songs. Tonight...I wasn't trying to learn spanish, actually. I was actually trying desperately to find this song with lyrics that sound like "zoom zoom zoom!" I thought I had it--a friend was playing it on her laptop thursday, so I texted myself the track name: "buena vista social club, track 2." Well, tonight I listened to every song on Buena Vista Social Club, including track 2, and none of them were the right song. My search did take me through a lot of salsa music, including a completely different song that has the lyrics "zoom zoom zoom" but is still the wrong song. Anyway, I eventually came across this page and how can I write about this? I just did this two hours ago. Well I guess we all no I accomplished nothing today. Except for drive all the way to Northgate to get my haircut by this really cute girl from alaska who asked me directly if I had a girlfriend and then we both complained about not dating anyone and I would have asked her out but she started telling me about this guy she is "seeing" or "dating" or whatever its called, so I left the place with a $40 bottle of conditioner that has so far provided an inadequate defense against my advancing hairline and without asking her out. Anyway, lets skip to the end: I've just listened to La Despedida by some guy Daddy Yankee about 30 times, and I still can't figure out what its about. I like it though. It has a meregue beat, unfortunately, and not a salsa, and...then I have a clever ending to this.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Another Night, Another Show
Dear Diary,
Bb9 invited me out to solo again. The only other person that was with her was that guy who is constantly seeking acceptance as a girl. He's a fucking guy. He had five 'o clock shadow! Bb9 mentioned a rum (I think) that is allegedly called "black cock." Fuckface then said that he loved black cock, and he was not talking about rum. He then proceeded...onward...in that direction of conversation, and I was subjected to hearing things I never wanted to hear. I think I partially blocked them out.
Later, fuckface finally left and me and bb9 hung out for a while. One of bb9's attractive acquantances showed up with a guy; they didn't sit with us.
Other things that happened tonight: I ate ice cream. I watched four episodes of Star Trek, Deep Space 9, one of which sucked. I played Diablo2, sending my sorceress, Lilly, into the desert to kill people and steal their stuff so she could save up and buy a special staff that lets her do more damage when she shoots a magical comet of ice.
Yeah, I guess I'm recounting my day backwards.
Today at work, we went over the results of a developer survey we were all supposed to take in september. Only six people on my team responded. I was one of the, and I was under the impression that it was an anonymous survey...mostly because they said it was. It was not anonymous. It was "anonymous." The results of the survey were grouped by team, printed out on like 18 pages of complicated bar charts, and handed out during our team meeting. We then spent two or three hours pouring over the results. Here's the fun part: when only six people respond to a survey, and you're the only one with highly negative answers, you kind of stick out, because every column you answered says "17%" of the team responded that way, which everyone quickly figures out was exactly one person. I eventually revealed myself as the single person who was chronically bored, unsatisfied and unproud of my work. Later, we got to the page where "17%" of the team was planning on moving to another team (or job!) but this time they didn't realize it was me because someone else had actually left the team since September. I felt no need to out myself this time, because at the beginning of the meeting my manager revealed to everyone that he is sending me and two other people off to another team. Not my idea. My team is basically getting split, and it sounds like I am going off with one of the sucky pieces.
This morning, I got a reminder call from the hospital for an appointment next week that I didn't even know I had. They are going to CAT scan my head, and then put me on a bicycle while they examine my heart, and then they are going to tell me they don't know why I have a strange tendency to pass out at 8,000 feet, after which I will go to an airport on christmas eve, get a dose of harmful radiation at the security theatre, and board an airplane to fly home.
Last night, though, salsa was good. There were very few girls there, but I still managed to get an ok amount of dances, one of which was with this tall girl who is older than me and preferred what I'm going to call the "zero inch rule." Oh, and I met a girl named Anastasia. Awesome. Also she is hot and has a Russian accent.
Bb9 invited me out to solo again. The only other person that was with her was that guy who is constantly seeking acceptance as a girl. He's a fucking guy. He had five 'o clock shadow! Bb9 mentioned a rum (I think) that is allegedly called "black cock." Fuckface then said that he loved black cock, and he was not talking about rum. He then proceeded...onward...in that direction of conversation, and I was subjected to hearing things I never wanted to hear. I think I partially blocked them out.
Later, fuckface finally left and me and bb9 hung out for a while. One of bb9's attractive acquantances showed up with a guy; they didn't sit with us.
Other things that happened tonight: I ate ice cream. I watched four episodes of Star Trek, Deep Space 9, one of which sucked. I played Diablo2, sending my sorceress, Lilly, into the desert to kill people and steal their stuff so she could save up and buy a special staff that lets her do more damage when she shoots a magical comet of ice.
Yeah, I guess I'm recounting my day backwards.
Today at work, we went over the results of a developer survey we were all supposed to take in september. Only six people on my team responded. I was one of the, and I was under the impression that it was an anonymous survey...mostly because they said it was. It was not anonymous. It was "anonymous." The results of the survey were grouped by team, printed out on like 18 pages of complicated bar charts, and handed out during our team meeting. We then spent two or three hours pouring over the results. Here's the fun part: when only six people respond to a survey, and you're the only one with highly negative answers, you kind of stick out, because every column you answered says "17%" of the team responded that way, which everyone quickly figures out was exactly one person. I eventually revealed myself as the single person who was chronically bored, unsatisfied and unproud of my work. Later, we got to the page where "17%" of the team was planning on moving to another team (or job!) but this time they didn't realize it was me because someone else had actually left the team since September. I felt no need to out myself this time, because at the beginning of the meeting my manager revealed to everyone that he is sending me and two other people off to another team. Not my idea. My team is basically getting split, and it sounds like I am going off with one of the sucky pieces.
This morning, I got a reminder call from the hospital for an appointment next week that I didn't even know I had. They are going to CAT scan my head, and then put me on a bicycle while they examine my heart, and then they are going to tell me they don't know why I have a strange tendency to pass out at 8,000 feet, after which I will go to an airport on christmas eve, get a dose of harmful radiation at the security theatre, and board an airplane to fly home.
Last night, though, salsa was good. There were very few girls there, but I still managed to get an ok amount of dances, one of which was with this tall girl who is older than me and preferred what I'm going to call the "zero inch rule." Oh, and I met a girl named Anastasia. Awesome. Also she is hot and has a Russian accent.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Seething in Seattle
Tonight I drove to get to the salsa club in an ultimately failed attempt to avoid soaking my shoes in the rain. There were some spots on the street in a 45 degree angle. I parked in one. Some guy in a bigass van pulled up and looked at me like he had wanted to park there and I had just spilled his ice cream and spit on his girlfriend. I took my time getting out and made sure to glare in his general direction, wondering if I should linger to prevent a brick getting thrown in my window.
Then I pregamed with friends and realized that one of the girls owns a honda shadow, one of the bikes I investigated when I decided I just had to get a motorcycle all those years ago.
THEN we walk by my car and there is a ticket on it. I got a ticket for parking the wrong way. I was in between the lines, yes. My car was supposed to be facing the street. Seattle is located in a lame-ass state where cars must have license plates on both the front and back, and they still want to bitch about which way my car is facing?
My only theory so far about why they have this retarded law is that it is related to the flow of traffic. For this reason, the next time I park in that area, I am going to approach from the same direction, then swing into the middle of the street for room but more importantly to get in the way, and then back up in a wide arc, completely what should be an entirely unecessary three-point turn that obstructs traffic in both directions. Hopefully that same guy with the van will show up, maybe after having passed the spot and turned around all proper like.
I drew you a diagram:
I think that useless and unecessary laws, when enforced, bother me more than unjust ones. For example, when Amazon caved and kicked wikileaks off of EC2, I was sad and disappointed, but I shrugged it off and said something cynical about the first amendment (and would have made a crack about airport scanners that bombard us with dangerous levels of radiation and can't detect bombs, but someone else said something). However, when I get bit by some random traffic thing that makes no sense, I feel a quick flash of fury. Strange.
Then I pregamed with friends and realized that one of the girls owns a honda shadow, one of the bikes I investigated when I decided I just had to get a motorcycle all those years ago.
THEN we walk by my car and there is a ticket on it. I got a ticket for parking the wrong way. I was in between the lines, yes. My car was supposed to be facing the street. Seattle is located in a lame-ass state where cars must have license plates on both the front and back, and they still want to bitch about which way my car is facing?
My only theory so far about why they have this retarded law is that it is related to the flow of traffic. For this reason, the next time I park in that area, I am going to approach from the same direction, then swing into the middle of the street for room but more importantly to get in the way, and then back up in a wide arc, completely what should be an entirely unecessary three-point turn that obstructs traffic in both directions. Hopefully that same guy with the van will show up, maybe after having passed the spot and turned around all proper like.
I drew you a diagram:
I think that useless and unecessary laws, when enforced, bother me more than unjust ones. For example, when Amazon caved and kicked wikileaks off of EC2, I was sad and disappointed, but I shrugged it off and said something cynical about the first amendment (and would have made a crack about airport scanners that bombard us with dangerous levels of radiation and can't detect bombs, but someone else said something). However, when I get bit by some random traffic thing that makes no sense, I feel a quick flash of fury. Strange.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Plans!
I am flying to the East Coast on Christmas Eve, December 24th. I'm going to spend a day or two in Virginia with my family. I am flying back to Seattle on Sunday, January 2nd. I'm going to try to visit my grandfather one of those days, but other than that, my week is currently wide open.
[Edit]
Also:
http://www.collegedegrees.com/blog/2008/06/11/100-useful-web-tools-for-writers/
The most exciting things I've done at work recently:
1: rewrite some of our documentation, reducing the quantity of information by 50% and making the articles actually useful
2: cleaned out my home folder on one of my desktops in preparation for upgrading the operating system
[Edit]
The article I had a lot of fun writing yesterday? The one that was supposed to help solve our doccumentation problem? I sent out an email asking people to read it. Instead of reading it, the annoying girl at work just spent all day basically duplicating it. Upon further inspection, we now have Six articles that describe how to do the same thing, but all at different levels of detail and completeness, in such a way that it would take hours to untangle them.
She doesn't see what my problem is. I've written about four responses to her, all of which I had to delete before sending.
[Edit]
Also:
http://www.collegedegrees.com/blog/2008/06/11/100-useful-web-tools-for-writers/
The most exciting things I've done at work recently:
1: rewrite some of our documentation, reducing the quantity of information by 50% and making the articles actually useful
2: cleaned out my home folder on one of my desktops in preparation for upgrading the operating system
[Edit]
The article I had a lot of fun writing yesterday? The one that was supposed to help solve our doccumentation problem? I sent out an email asking people to read it. Instead of reading it, the annoying girl at work just spent all day basically duplicating it. Upon further inspection, we now have Six articles that describe how to do the same thing, but all at different levels of detail and completeness, in such a way that it would take hours to untangle them.
She doesn't see what my problem is. I've written about four responses to her, all of which I had to delete before sending.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Epic Monopoly Game
The Rent Check Saga
The apartment complex I live in refuses to accept rent payments by any method other than ancient forms of trasanctions that involve physical paper, called checks or money orders. Checks are, as far as I know, the most unreliable form of payment that is still in use. If there is any hiccup in the rent transaction, an eviction threat is posted on my door and mailed to me. This eviction threat has a ten day deadline before the Bad Stuff.
I ran out of checks a long time ago. My primary bank is well known on the East Coast. I tried repeatedly over a period of months to order checks from them, but the people who wrote their website suck and it didn't work. My second bank does not deal with paper checks at all, unless the bank itself sends the paper check directly to the payee in such a way that prevents me from knowing if the payment was received or not. Ergo, if I used this form of check to pay my rent and then went on vacation, I would not know the payment failed until I came home and all of my possessions were on the street. One of the guys at work continues to insist that Washington is a renter friendly state.
So, I have been paying with money orders. Money orders are similar to checks, but with the important difference that they have been designed to be as difficult to obtain as possible. Every institution that offers them have different rules for you to jump through. So far, the post office is the most reasonable: they only force you to have a debit card, and to show up at the one branch in the entire metropolitan area that does money orders during their business hours, which are worse than a banks. Don't worry, I'll cover the other suppliers of money orders shortly.
So I have been paying rent with money orders for months. Two money orders per month, actualy, because of a maximum limit on the amount of the money order. Because of the sheer difficulty in obtaining the money order, there were occasional problems which led to me being intimately familiar with the eviction threats.
I decided to open a brand new checking account. This is bank #3. Actually, its a credit union. With this credit union, though, it only took about 3 seperate tries on their website before I received a shipment of real, actual, paper checks. Because of the perceived scarcity of paper checks in my mind, I ordered enough paper checks to pay rent for the next 20 years.
Upon receiving these checks, I filled one out for every rent payment between then and next september, which is when my ridiculously long 15-month lease ends and I am free of this retarded apartment complex. Each check when in an evelope labeled with the name of the month and a funny picture of a fat, cross eyed dragon. Part of some kind subconscious ploy to I guess stand out to the girls in the office, even though the only one I want to play tongue tennis with clearly has not only no interest in me but also a boyfriend. But I digress.
I used the first of the checks. It bounced. The credit union I am using seems to have opted to discourage the use of "external transfers," or wire tranfers to other banks (which is like most of them) by creating the worst interface for said transfers that I've ever seen. It is the single page on their entire website that opens in a new window. But I digress.
My november check bounced. I received an eviction threat on my door and by mail. It had a ten day deadline. I managed to initiate a wire transfer between the bank I actually use, and the credit union account that has paper checks. I waited for it to clear. I then wrote a new check and included the ridiculous 10% late fee, and the other fees they were charging me, and walked this check directly into the office and handed it to an employee of the apartment complex who accepted the check. A few days later, I received a voicemail while I was at work telling me that they "cannot" accept the check, and that I had until that night to complete the payment or they would evict me. I was...well I was...I'll spare you the details, but I was about 1/3 or 2/3s as mad at the bitch who called me as I was at the duck boat people who ran over my car, and since I still fantasize about sinking every fucking lame ass tank they have into the Puget Sound, you should know that I was pretty fucking pissed.
I was the primary oncall of my team, on the highest traffic day of the year, during an emergency of the highest severity. I found some time to walk up to the then-empty cafeteria and call those fuckers back. This girl that called me explained to me that they can accept personal checks of course, but they "can't" accept them the second time in a month, if the first time bounces, which really means that they can, but are refusing to. They would only accept a money order (a.k.a. cashier's check). Apparently the fact that I was falsely led to believe that they had accepted my payment did not extend the ten-day bullshit deadline. I explained to her that I could not leave work to run all over the city trying to acquire a money order. My voice betrayed me, relaying the emotion of frustration instead of the vengeful hatred that I was going for. She then talked down to me, making it sound like getting a money order was the easiest thing in the world. I agreed go to to 7-11 that night and drop it off in the drop box.
Acquiring a money order is not the easiest thing in the world.
One of the reason I managed to avoid getting evicted is that on that day, my boss sent half of the team home in the middle of the day, so that we could get online and deal with the emergency and cover the other half of the team. I decided that my commute would including a quick trip to 7-11 to pick up a money order so I don't get evicted from my apartment.
I went to 7-11. They told me they only accept cash. So, the bitch on the phone that told me I could get a money order at 7-11 has either never gotten a money order at 7-11, or thinks I walk around with $1500 in cash. I don't, because I'm actually not a drug dealer. The guy at 7-11 told me to go to the bank across the street. Because I had my car with me, and because the incredibly poor design of Seattle's roads, which included a lot of "no turns" and one way streets, it took me 15 minutes to cross the street. I'm not kidding.
I arrive at the bank and ask for a cashier's check (bank version of a money order). The pretty girl at the counter told me to fuck off because I did not have an account with them.
I went to the nearest post office. By some miracle they were still open. The lady behind the counter told me that branch can't do money orders. The other branch was on the other side of the city, which is roughly an hour to walk, and it was rush hour.
I called Adam, and after about ten minutes got the location of the nearest branch of the credit union, the only of my three banks that actually has a physical presence anywhere in this city. By some miracle, they were open until 6, and I was able to walk there in time. For the second time that night I asked for a cashiers check, this time as an account holder. This time the person told me that they would only use the money that was already in my account. Fucking credit union: I told you they hated "external" transfers.
Fortunately for me, I had just wired money into that checking account: the money that was supposed to cover the second check I wrote to the apartment bastards. I walked out of the credit union office clutching the check in my hand, and hurried all the way back to my stupid fucking overpriced apartment complex. Then I realized that if I dropped it or it blew away or I randomly passed out or something, I would both lose about $1500 and get evicted from my apartment. After some deliberation I tucked the check inside my jacket.
I arrived at the apartment office before they closed. I asked the girl to look at the check and see if anything was wrong. She basically checked that my apartment number was in the memo field, as well as all of the obvious things your mother or father probably scrutinized the first time they taught you how to write a check. I left not knowing if they would drum up some new kind of problem with my payment, but damn ready to lawyer up and give them hell if they did.
Days later, December arrived. I pulled my December rent check out of the envelope with the cute dragon drawing, inserted it into an envelope sans drawing, and deposited it in the drop box that, according to the rental agreement and/or website, does not legally count as the apartment receiving the check. Can I walk up to someone on the street and punch them and claim "I'm not responsible for what happens to your face" afterwards? Never in my life have I had so much trouble paying for an apartment.
Fountain Court: I highly recommend not living here.
Dance Floor Ownership
Dancing didn't suck. Yay! There were so many girls there...I'd say that there were only like 20 or 30 more men than women in the club. It was good enough that I got to dance every once in a while. There was this girl who I danced with three times. She might have been interested. I did not ask for her number because it didn't feel like we cliqued enough, and later one of the girls I go dancing with confirmed that asking for a girl's number the first night you see them at salsa is awkward (classes are better). Hopefully I see her again. Oh, and there was this other, super cute girl...like, gorgeous super cute. She was new. In fact, it was her first night but she agreed to dance with me. Despite her being new she possessed the most innate raw talent that I've possibly ever felt in anyone. I accidentally broke out moves that were way above her level, because she was good at the simpler ones, and its kind of automatic after that. I dance with her twice. After the second one she said I was very patient. She spent the entire time embarrassed about how little she knew, which is my fault for doing advanced stuff. No one should be embarrassed about lack of skill when they are out dancing and having fun. Moreover, "patient" is not the reaction I wanted. It seemed clear that she thought I was dancing with her to be not and not because I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She had an awesome laugh, voice, and dancingness. So...that was my good time. Dancing and not asking out girls. It is interesting though...I'm getting better and better at identifying the dancers that don't get asked much, and therefore are more likely to not reject me. I'm like a vulture. I was asking more girls though...that was good. I've found that when an awesome song comes on, like Aicha, or El Cantante, or Tu Amore Me Hace Bien, I scurry around and ask almost anyone without fear of rejection; the music really changes things. There is some kind of interesting tangent there that I would expand on if this post wasn't supposed to be about monopoly. Anyway...ok lets be done with the salsa stories. Oh, wait, no, so my new goal is to "own the dance floor." I have for a long time been avoiding the best looking girls, because they (due to a process I can't explain because it sounds too cynical) are the best dancers and know the most people, and I can't compete with the guys that dance with them--those guys are like two levels/grades/classes/leagues above me. This needs to end. I need to be able to look at any girl that dances L.A. style, and not be afraid to ask her to dance for lack of skill. So...I'm gonna take lessons or something. Yeah, a quick little entry before bed, I thought.
Crustaceans
Friday night, I pregamed by mixing expensive vodka that came in a $50 skull-shaped glass with gross, bottom shelf orange juice made from concentrate. I put off eating dinner because I was busy failing at creating a castle out of Lego bricks (more on that in the next section). 'Bb9 texted me and asked if I wanted to get a drink. I said yes, hoping that this time the girl who lives in my apartment would be there and not that guy who is pretending to be a girl. I left my apartment and went to the bar super hungry. None of here other friends were there. The bar did not have any food, so I thought it would be a great idea to drink three captain and cokes on an empty stomach. Then we left and 'bb9 took me to a grocery store. I stumbled away from her, bought a $15 platter of gourmet shrimp, and then searched for the cocktail sauce while briefly feeling like I was going to pass out for no reason, and then I went home and ate half of the shrimp while watching two mediocre episodes of star trak deep space nine. Actually, the second one sucked: the runabout (its like a shuttle) gets shrunk and flies around inside the other ship (the defiant). You could actually say it is probably one of the worst ten episodes in the entire serious, but I was drunk so I didn't mind and honestly I couldn't exactly tell you how it ended.
Rhymes with Flexible Crustacean
Its has been...more than a year, I think, since I made out with anyone I liked. I'm not going to spell out what that means, but maybe you can infer it:
Today, I played Diablo2. I leveled up my barbarian character and realized that the reason he was sucking so much was that I was fighting monsters way above my level. So I fought those monsters over and over again, and if things got too heavy and I couldn't jump out of the fray in time, I just pressed escape, quit the game, and then went back in. I spent a good amount of time debating between putting a skill point in Natural Resistance, which protects him from Fire, Cold, Lightning and Poison (yeah, exciting, I know!) or simply leveling up his Wirlwind ability, which took me like two hours of gameplay to figure out how to use. Then, I got bored, and switched to my sorceress character. The sorceress in diablo 2 is good for one thing: a spell called Frost Orb. You are not allowed to get this spell until your sorceress reaches level 30, which doesn't actually happen until you beat the game on easy. My sorceress is level 7. That'll be fun.
Then, the legos. Damn. Its 4:19 am and I still haven't gotten to the monopoly game. Well, this is what happens when I queue up ideas for posts. So, onward.
I had this idea that I would make a book about castles. I was going to make lots of models of archetype and real English castles out of Lego bricks, and include the directions for how to make them. I was hoping to sell this book on the internet, as part of a grand, effortless money making scheme that was hatched in my head when I read some book called 4 hour workweek. I was then going to write a second book on French castles, in order to have a credible excuse for suddenly learning French even though my real reason is that one of the girls-I-never-had-that-got-away is into French...stuff. I have since spent about $500 buying bulk legos from random people. Then I counted and sorted them, even going so far as being forced to scrub one batch because it was so filthy. That was the same batch that was comtaminated with fake Lego bricks (mega blocks and tycho and one other company makes them). I can't find the paper with the final sum, but I have about 20,000 Lego bricks in my apartment. These legos are currently strewn all over my apartment. I tried to take a picture for you but my phone said "insufficient memory" even though I just deleted a picture off of it. Whatever.
After doing some research on wikipedia during work, when I should have been using a tedious guess-and-check method to track down the cause of a ClassNotFoundException (literally, I have to manually find the class somewhere in an enormous source tree of a poorly implemented proprietary version control system, which is held in a repository so large I can't even list the packages in it), I found the smallest castle structure possible: a Motte. If any of you have played Lords of the Realm II, you are probably familiar with the Motte and Bailey castle. This is a two part castle consisting of the Motte: an often man-made hill on which some kind of wall and/or keep was constructed, and the Bailey, a large outer wall with a lower strategic value than the Motte. If you take away the Bailey part of a Mottle and Bailey, you are left with just a Mottle with a keep on top: the simplest and smallest castle that is really still a castle.
This is what I attempted to create out of Lego bricks. I started yesterday (friday) and continued on today (saturday). I created a cool mound. Then I attempted to erect the keep on top of it. Lego bricks are a reverse of the real world in that bricks that resemble wood are scarcer and more valueable than brick that resemble stone. Therefore, I decided that whoever had built this Motte was too poor to construct the Bailey, but somehow rich enough to build the keep out of stone. Maybe its the keep guarding the stone quarry; who knows. Anyway, upon attempting to construct the keep I came to the incredibly depressing realization that I don't have enough castle pieces to construct it. I have 20,000 pieces of Lego bricks in bins on my couch, table, chairs and floor, and I don't have enough bricks to build the smallest realistic castle. I have no corner pieces. I also have no horses. I have maybe six of those straight castle pieces...if you don't know what I'm talking about, forget it; I don't feel like searching the internets for an examples.
Now, for monopoly.
After the Diablo2 and the Lego bricks, Luke invited me over to his place to drink and play monopoly with his brother. An interesting idea. I briefly debated inviting 'bb9 or Firefly Girl. 'Bb9 probably had to work, and I didn't want to spent that much time alone in a car with Firefly Girl. So it was just the three of us. Three, belligerant boys drinking and playing monopoly. That was definitely an experience.
The first game, we played with what I'm going to dub Classic Childhood Rules. They are basically the real rules, except you take away the two that nobody likes: you don't have to pay interest when you unmortgage a property, and you don't have to sell houses at half price--you sell them at full price. I was impatient to get a monopoly, so I pushed for trading and gave up Boardwalk, allowing Matt to have a monopoly on dark blue, in order to gain a monopoly on the light blues and the light violets--the two second-least-valuable monopolies in the game. Luke got a monopoly on orange, which according so some study I saw on slashdot a few years ago is the monopoly that is most likely to benefit the player. Matt mortgaged everything and put all his resources into building hotels on blue. Luke bent everything towards building up orange. I lost.
The second game, we agreed to play with the interest and the selling houses for half price. As five year olds playing the game, no one ever abused the house selling priviledge; we just didn't know what interest was. As twenty-something computer science majors, we had all realized during the first game that allowing a person to resell the houses at full price makes the houses a completely liquid commodity like cash, and renders them somewhat pointless.
The second game...I waited a while, and then I broker a three-way trade that, in one transaction, gave us each monopolies. This time Matt got Orange, I got Red (the one better than orange) and Luke got Yellow (the one better than red but not as good as green or dark blue). Such a deal was necessary because in a three person game, none of us were willing to trade unless that trade gave us a monopoly, and the cards just fell in such a way that most colors had each card owned by a different person.
I refrained from my tendency to screw people over by forming secret or non-secret alliances, still remembering the game where Chris, who was the only played not involved in any agreement and was about to lose (while I was about to win), convinced every player other than me to stop honoring all the agreements they made, and the entire tide of the game changed immediately in Chris' favor, who slowly came back from losing everything, absorbing the other players (who were now weakened) one by one until it was just him and me, and he won. That was the last monopoly game I played with Chris. I have another story for Risk.
Anyway, so I didn't attempt any secret alliances and niether of the other players were interested in any creative deals (ex: "you don't have to pay rent this turn if I never have to pay rent on New York"). It was an interesting three way battle. Matt gained the upper hand with the Orange monopoly (we are starting to think that really is the best one). Luke grew closer to losing everything before I did. Luke was also tired of playing monopoly. Therefore, when he got desperate, I brokered a number of deals that saved him from losing the game but which involved me bascially acquiring everything he had for far below market value. In fact, I think I acquired every property he owned for $20. Matt thinks that counted as cheating, but kept playing.
Then something incredibly frustrating happened. Matt had only one monopoly: Orange. I had a monopoly on red, and a monopoly on yellow and every railroad. I had an entire side of the board. Matt only had Orange. However the rolls just landed in such a way that he kept winning. It looked like it was the end. Then due to some windfall like Free parking or maybe Matt just landed on one of my properties for once, I was able to pay to unmortgage all of Lukes properties. Then something weird happened.
We both ended up with unmortgaged properties, and hotels build on every monopoly we owned. We appeared to be evenly matched, and there would be no more trading between us. Only four monopolies on the board were built; te rest were split between us. Therefore, most of the board was effectively safe, save for either a side or two corners, depending on who rolled. Having nothing more to spend cash on, we simply horded it as a reserve against landing on each others hotels. As the game progress, we passed Go and collected $200 again and again, effectively infusing more and more money into the game, until we both had thousands of dollars which we simply traded back and forth.
When we realized this, we stopped playing, because it was clear that the game could continue on forever (or until the bank ran out of money). I did not know such a situation could occur in this game. I suggested we stop, and simply simulate the rest of the game and decide the game based on who was likely to win, even though Matt thought I had cheated him by buying all of Luke's properties for less than market value when Luke was both falling asleep and watching tv instead of paying attention to the game. Matt had already been wanting to quit for like an hour, so he agreed.
Side note: luke actually came back, briefly: after selling me all his properties he still had cash, and due to a bunch of fortunate die rolls managed to accrue enough prize/free parking cash to buy back the yellow monopoly from me for a while, which I freely gave because having luke in the game kept Matt off balance.
Anyway.
If you don't understand how a monopoly game could go on forever, consider this unlikely but technically possible scenario: every player, every turn, rolls a 10. The proceed from Go, to Jail, to Free Parking, to Go to Jail...oh. Well that won't work. Ok, without loss of generality, less asume that if you bored enough right now to go get a monopoly game and look at the board, you would be able to identify some pattern of die rolls that take a player safely from Go, all the way around the board and back to Go without landing on any properties. Every time the a player lands on or passes go, they get $200, but since they do not have to give it to other players, they simply amass the wealth and never lose. Once the money is in the players hands, it never really goes back to the bank (not when all the properties are dealt). Thus, the game can continue forever.
I suspect that our game may have continued on forever. For this reason, I wrote down all relevant information about the state of the gameplay so that I could simulate it from the exactly moment we stopped. The entire point of this post was supposed to just be for me to write down that game state, but now its like 5 in the morning and...well ce la vie:
It is Matt's turn.
Me: current location is Tennesee Ave (middle orange)
I was playing the hat.
$3417
All railroads
all utilities
vermont
oriental
virginia
states ave
pennsylvania
pacific avenue
all reds (all hotels)
all yellows (all hotels)
park place
Luke:
well, he ended on Luxury Tax. Sucks to be him.
Matt: current location is Pennsylvania railroad (2nd railroad)
He is the wheelbarrow. cause thats super important.
all orange (all hotels)
boardwalk
north carolina
connecticut avenue
st charles place
all browns or dark purple, depending on edition (mediterranean ave and baltic) - (all hotels)
Free parking:
the space contains $850. (we played without the initial $500)
The next chance cards to be drawn were this sequence:
-advance to go
-go to reading railroad
-go to st charles
-get $50
-go to jail
-go to nearest railroad (pay owner twice normal rent)
chance cards in discard pile:
-pay each player $50
-lose $15
-goto go ($200)
-goto illinois ave
-get $150
-nearest railroad (pay owner twice rent)
-repairs: $25 for house, $100 per hotel)
-get out of jail free
-go back three spaces (note: this is probably why orange is worth so much!)
-goto boardwalk
-nearest utility (throw dice again and pay 10x)
next community chest cards to be drawn:
-get $200
-goto jail
-repairs: $40 per house, $115 per hotel
-pay $100
-get $100
-get out of jail free
-pay $50
-get $20
-get $100
community chest cards in discard pile:
-get $25
-get $10
-get $50
-get $50
-get $100
-get $10
We were rolling only 2 six sided die for moving. Unmortgaging cost 10% interest. Houses and hotels sold for half. There are 30 of each monetary demonination, making the upper bound of money in the game 30*500+30*100+30*50+30*20+30*10+30*5+30*1 = $20,580. Player behavior is trivial: nothing to spend money on; if cash reserves are insufficient to cover landing on a property, first mortgage properties, starting with the least valuable (by potentional income) one then selling houses (always selling first on the least valuable one by income). When cash exceeds the necessary reserve, starting buying back houses and then unmortaging properties. Exactly what the necessary reserve is probably the only intelligent decision left for us to make, and will be hard to do accurately, but the simulator can make a reasonable guess that matched our atually behavior during the game, simply by looking at the worst payment someone will have to make on their next trip around the board. I might have to play around with the needed reserves. Then again, maybe not. After a while both of hour reservers were enormous.
I'm going to try to write a simulator tomorrow, or sometime. Maybe if I get really bored at work or something. I want to simulate a few million (or billion?) different possible outcomes of the game, and see how many involve my victory, Matt's victory, or a game that runs forever (i.e. the bank runs out of money). I do not have a lot of experience writing simulators. If you have any opinions other than those inspired by being a fanboy of some random language, framework or paradigm, please feel free to share them with me, especially as it relates to the design of the simulator. It seems to me that the Object Oriented approach does not map perfectly to simulations.
BONUS POINTS: can we arrive at such and apparently unbounded situation in monopoly, without someone being, like, a total dick and selling all their cards for a price that is way below fair market value? An interesting question.
A Quarter Mile at a Time
I drove home fast, since I drove home at like 2:30 in the morning (the second monopoly dragged on so long that we were both completely sober well before its hiatus). It was awesome. I don't actually consider myself a "road ninja" in real life. Indeed, the knowledge of driving I've accumulated thus far is only a fraction of what my fictional characters know, and I will probably never catch up to them. I do like to drive fast, though, and long ago I learned that the best chance you have of staying safe (from the cops) is to eschew the technological games completely (radar, lasers, etc) and simply slow down at every single point they could be hiding. I have, therefore, gotten into a habit of jetting through the tunnels as fast as I want and then slowing down right before the exit. Tonight, it paid off when I exited the first tunnel. It took a really long distance for me to slow back down to the absurdly low speed of 60mph, so long that I actually bursted out of the tunnel before I was all the way back down. There was a police cruiser waiting for me, positioned to drive onto the road and give chase immeditately. He must have seen my brake lights and my car dipping forward from the deacceleration, but I was already down to right over 60 and he didn't chase me.
I later remembered that my speedometer is overclocked by, on average, 10 miles per hour. So I actually emerged from the tunnel already doing the speed limit, and that one part where I thought I was doing 110 mph, I was actually doing 100 mph. One hundred miles per hour is actually not fast.
Still, it was a rush to almost get pinned but to be saved by one of the paranoid things I do on the road. I really love driving fast. I can't claim to think that driving can ever be as good as hooking up with a girl, but I'd say two are at least comparable.
[edit]
And Matt has $2761. Man, I thought I lost that.
The apartment complex I live in refuses to accept rent payments by any method other than ancient forms of trasanctions that involve physical paper, called checks or money orders. Checks are, as far as I know, the most unreliable form of payment that is still in use. If there is any hiccup in the rent transaction, an eviction threat is posted on my door and mailed to me. This eviction threat has a ten day deadline before the Bad Stuff.
I ran out of checks a long time ago. My primary bank is well known on the East Coast. I tried repeatedly over a period of months to order checks from them, but the people who wrote their website suck and it didn't work. My second bank does not deal with paper checks at all, unless the bank itself sends the paper check directly to the payee in such a way that prevents me from knowing if the payment was received or not. Ergo, if I used this form of check to pay my rent and then went on vacation, I would not know the payment failed until I came home and all of my possessions were on the street. One of the guys at work continues to insist that Washington is a renter friendly state.
So, I have been paying with money orders. Money orders are similar to checks, but with the important difference that they have been designed to be as difficult to obtain as possible. Every institution that offers them have different rules for you to jump through. So far, the post office is the most reasonable: they only force you to have a debit card, and to show up at the one branch in the entire metropolitan area that does money orders during their business hours, which are worse than a banks. Don't worry, I'll cover the other suppliers of money orders shortly.
So I have been paying rent with money orders for months. Two money orders per month, actualy, because of a maximum limit on the amount of the money order. Because of the sheer difficulty in obtaining the money order, there were occasional problems which led to me being intimately familiar with the eviction threats.
I decided to open a brand new checking account. This is bank #3. Actually, its a credit union. With this credit union, though, it only took about 3 seperate tries on their website before I received a shipment of real, actual, paper checks. Because of the perceived scarcity of paper checks in my mind, I ordered enough paper checks to pay rent for the next 20 years.
Upon receiving these checks, I filled one out for every rent payment between then and next september, which is when my ridiculously long 15-month lease ends and I am free of this retarded apartment complex. Each check when in an evelope labeled with the name of the month and a funny picture of a fat, cross eyed dragon. Part of some kind subconscious ploy to I guess stand out to the girls in the office, even though the only one I want to play tongue tennis with clearly has not only no interest in me but also a boyfriend. But I digress.
I used the first of the checks. It bounced. The credit union I am using seems to have opted to discourage the use of "external transfers," or wire tranfers to other banks (which is like most of them) by creating the worst interface for said transfers that I've ever seen. It is the single page on their entire website that opens in a new window. But I digress.
My november check bounced. I received an eviction threat on my door and by mail. It had a ten day deadline. I managed to initiate a wire transfer between the bank I actually use, and the credit union account that has paper checks. I waited for it to clear. I then wrote a new check and included the ridiculous 10% late fee, and the other fees they were charging me, and walked this check directly into the office and handed it to an employee of the apartment complex who accepted the check. A few days later, I received a voicemail while I was at work telling me that they "cannot" accept the check, and that I had until that night to complete the payment or they would evict me. I was...well I was...I'll spare you the details, but I was about 1/3 or 2/3s as mad at the bitch who called me as I was at the duck boat people who ran over my car, and since I still fantasize about sinking every fucking lame ass tank they have into the Puget Sound, you should know that I was pretty fucking pissed.
I was the primary oncall of my team, on the highest traffic day of the year, during an emergency of the highest severity. I found some time to walk up to the then-empty cafeteria and call those fuckers back. This girl that called me explained to me that they can accept personal checks of course, but they "can't" accept them the second time in a month, if the first time bounces, which really means that they can, but are refusing to. They would only accept a money order (a.k.a. cashier's check). Apparently the fact that I was falsely led to believe that they had accepted my payment did not extend the ten-day bullshit deadline. I explained to her that I could not leave work to run all over the city trying to acquire a money order. My voice betrayed me, relaying the emotion of frustration instead of the vengeful hatred that I was going for. She then talked down to me, making it sound like getting a money order was the easiest thing in the world. I agreed go to to 7-11 that night and drop it off in the drop box.
Acquiring a money order is not the easiest thing in the world.
One of the reason I managed to avoid getting evicted is that on that day, my boss sent half of the team home in the middle of the day, so that we could get online and deal with the emergency and cover the other half of the team. I decided that my commute would including a quick trip to 7-11 to pick up a money order so I don't get evicted from my apartment.
I went to 7-11. They told me they only accept cash. So, the bitch on the phone that told me I could get a money order at 7-11 has either never gotten a money order at 7-11, or thinks I walk around with $1500 in cash. I don't, because I'm actually not a drug dealer. The guy at 7-11 told me to go to the bank across the street. Because I had my car with me, and because the incredibly poor design of Seattle's roads, which included a lot of "no turns" and one way streets, it took me 15 minutes to cross the street. I'm not kidding.
I arrive at the bank and ask for a cashier's check (bank version of a money order). The pretty girl at the counter told me to fuck off because I did not have an account with them.
I went to the nearest post office. By some miracle they were still open. The lady behind the counter told me that branch can't do money orders. The other branch was on the other side of the city, which is roughly an hour to walk, and it was rush hour.
I called Adam, and after about ten minutes got the location of the nearest branch of the credit union, the only of my three banks that actually has a physical presence anywhere in this city. By some miracle, they were open until 6, and I was able to walk there in time. For the second time that night I asked for a cashiers check, this time as an account holder. This time the person told me that they would only use the money that was already in my account. Fucking credit union: I told you they hated "external" transfers.
Fortunately for me, I had just wired money into that checking account: the money that was supposed to cover the second check I wrote to the apartment bastards. I walked out of the credit union office clutching the check in my hand, and hurried all the way back to my stupid fucking overpriced apartment complex. Then I realized that if I dropped it or it blew away or I randomly passed out or something, I would both lose about $1500 and get evicted from my apartment. After some deliberation I tucked the check inside my jacket.
I arrived at the apartment office before they closed. I asked the girl to look at the check and see if anything was wrong. She basically checked that my apartment number was in the memo field, as well as all of the obvious things your mother or father probably scrutinized the first time they taught you how to write a check. I left not knowing if they would drum up some new kind of problem with my payment, but damn ready to lawyer up and give them hell if they did.
Days later, December arrived. I pulled my December rent check out of the envelope with the cute dragon drawing, inserted it into an envelope sans drawing, and deposited it in the drop box that, according to the rental agreement and/or website, does not legally count as the apartment receiving the check. Can I walk up to someone on the street and punch them and claim "I'm not responsible for what happens to your face" afterwards? Never in my life have I had so much trouble paying for an apartment.
Fountain Court: I highly recommend not living here.
Dance Floor Ownership
Dancing didn't suck. Yay! There were so many girls there...I'd say that there were only like 20 or 30 more men than women in the club. It was good enough that I got to dance every once in a while. There was this girl who I danced with three times. She might have been interested. I did not ask for her number because it didn't feel like we cliqued enough, and later one of the girls I go dancing with confirmed that asking for a girl's number the first night you see them at salsa is awkward (classes are better). Hopefully I see her again. Oh, and there was this other, super cute girl...like, gorgeous super cute. She was new. In fact, it was her first night but she agreed to dance with me. Despite her being new she possessed the most innate raw talent that I've possibly ever felt in anyone. I accidentally broke out moves that were way above her level, because she was good at the simpler ones, and its kind of automatic after that. I dance with her twice. After the second one she said I was very patient. She spent the entire time embarrassed about how little she knew, which is my fault for doing advanced stuff. No one should be embarrassed about lack of skill when they are out dancing and having fun. Moreover, "patient" is not the reaction I wanted. It seemed clear that she thought I was dancing with her to be not and not because I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She had an awesome laugh, voice, and dancingness. So...that was my good time. Dancing and not asking out girls. It is interesting though...I'm getting better and better at identifying the dancers that don't get asked much, and therefore are more likely to not reject me. I'm like a vulture. I was asking more girls though...that was good. I've found that when an awesome song comes on, like Aicha, or El Cantante, or Tu Amore Me Hace Bien, I scurry around and ask almost anyone without fear of rejection; the music really changes things. There is some kind of interesting tangent there that I would expand on if this post wasn't supposed to be about monopoly. Anyway...ok lets be done with the salsa stories. Oh, wait, no, so my new goal is to "own the dance floor." I have for a long time been avoiding the best looking girls, because they (due to a process I can't explain because it sounds too cynical) are the best dancers and know the most people, and I can't compete with the guys that dance with them--those guys are like two levels/grades/classes/leagues above me. This needs to end. I need to be able to look at any girl that dances L.A. style, and not be afraid to ask her to dance for lack of skill. So...I'm gonna take lessons or something. Yeah, a quick little entry before bed, I thought.
Crustaceans
Friday night, I pregamed by mixing expensive vodka that came in a $50 skull-shaped glass with gross, bottom shelf orange juice made from concentrate. I put off eating dinner because I was busy failing at creating a castle out of Lego bricks (more on that in the next section). 'Bb9 texted me and asked if I wanted to get a drink. I said yes, hoping that this time the girl who lives in my apartment would be there and not that guy who is pretending to be a girl. I left my apartment and went to the bar super hungry. None of here other friends were there. The bar did not have any food, so I thought it would be a great idea to drink three captain and cokes on an empty stomach. Then we left and 'bb9 took me to a grocery store. I stumbled away from her, bought a $15 platter of gourmet shrimp, and then searched for the cocktail sauce while briefly feeling like I was going to pass out for no reason, and then I went home and ate half of the shrimp while watching two mediocre episodes of star trak deep space nine. Actually, the second one sucked: the runabout (its like a shuttle) gets shrunk and flies around inside the other ship (the defiant). You could actually say it is probably one of the worst ten episodes in the entire serious, but I was drunk so I didn't mind and honestly I couldn't exactly tell you how it ended.
Rhymes with Flexible Crustacean
Its has been...more than a year, I think, since I made out with anyone I liked. I'm not going to spell out what that means, but maybe you can infer it:
Today, I played Diablo2. I leveled up my barbarian character and realized that the reason he was sucking so much was that I was fighting monsters way above my level. So I fought those monsters over and over again, and if things got too heavy and I couldn't jump out of the fray in time, I just pressed escape, quit the game, and then went back in. I spent a good amount of time debating between putting a skill point in Natural Resistance, which protects him from Fire, Cold, Lightning and Poison (yeah, exciting, I know!) or simply leveling up his Wirlwind ability, which took me like two hours of gameplay to figure out how to use. Then, I got bored, and switched to my sorceress character. The sorceress in diablo 2 is good for one thing: a spell called Frost Orb. You are not allowed to get this spell until your sorceress reaches level 30, which doesn't actually happen until you beat the game on easy. My sorceress is level 7. That'll be fun.
Then, the legos. Damn. Its 4:19 am and I still haven't gotten to the monopoly game. Well, this is what happens when I queue up ideas for posts. So, onward.
I had this idea that I would make a book about castles. I was going to make lots of models of archetype and real English castles out of Lego bricks, and include the directions for how to make them. I was hoping to sell this book on the internet, as part of a grand, effortless money making scheme that was hatched in my head when I read some book called 4 hour workweek. I was then going to write a second book on French castles, in order to have a credible excuse for suddenly learning French even though my real reason is that one of the girls-I-never-had-that-got-away is into French...stuff. I have since spent about $500 buying bulk legos from random people. Then I counted and sorted them, even going so far as being forced to scrub one batch because it was so filthy. That was the same batch that was comtaminated with fake Lego bricks (mega blocks and tycho and one other company makes them). I can't find the paper with the final sum, but I have about 20,000 Lego bricks in my apartment. These legos are currently strewn all over my apartment. I tried to take a picture for you but my phone said "insufficient memory" even though I just deleted a picture off of it. Whatever.
After doing some research on wikipedia during work, when I should have been using a tedious guess-and-check method to track down the cause of a ClassNotFoundException (literally, I have to manually find the class somewhere in an enormous source tree of a poorly implemented proprietary version control system, which is held in a repository so large I can't even list the packages in it), I found the smallest castle structure possible: a Motte. If any of you have played Lords of the Realm II, you are probably familiar with the Motte and Bailey castle. This is a two part castle consisting of the Motte: an often man-made hill on which some kind of wall and/or keep was constructed, and the Bailey, a large outer wall with a lower strategic value than the Motte. If you take away the Bailey part of a Mottle and Bailey, you are left with just a Mottle with a keep on top: the simplest and smallest castle that is really still a castle.
This is what I attempted to create out of Lego bricks. I started yesterday (friday) and continued on today (saturday). I created a cool mound. Then I attempted to erect the keep on top of it. Lego bricks are a reverse of the real world in that bricks that resemble wood are scarcer and more valueable than brick that resemble stone. Therefore, I decided that whoever had built this Motte was too poor to construct the Bailey, but somehow rich enough to build the keep out of stone. Maybe its the keep guarding the stone quarry; who knows. Anyway, upon attempting to construct the keep I came to the incredibly depressing realization that I don't have enough castle pieces to construct it. I have 20,000 pieces of Lego bricks in bins on my couch, table, chairs and floor, and I don't have enough bricks to build the smallest realistic castle. I have no corner pieces. I also have no horses. I have maybe six of those straight castle pieces...if you don't know what I'm talking about, forget it; I don't feel like searching the internets for an examples.
Now, for monopoly.
After the Diablo2 and the Lego bricks, Luke invited me over to his place to drink and play monopoly with his brother. An interesting idea. I briefly debated inviting 'bb9 or Firefly Girl. 'Bb9 probably had to work, and I didn't want to spent that much time alone in a car with Firefly Girl. So it was just the three of us. Three, belligerant boys drinking and playing monopoly. That was definitely an experience.
The first game, we played with what I'm going to dub Classic Childhood Rules. They are basically the real rules, except you take away the two that nobody likes: you don't have to pay interest when you unmortgage a property, and you don't have to sell houses at half price--you sell them at full price. I was impatient to get a monopoly, so I pushed for trading and gave up Boardwalk, allowing Matt to have a monopoly on dark blue, in order to gain a monopoly on the light blues and the light violets--the two second-least-valuable monopolies in the game. Luke got a monopoly on orange, which according so some study I saw on slashdot a few years ago is the monopoly that is most likely to benefit the player. Matt mortgaged everything and put all his resources into building hotels on blue. Luke bent everything towards building up orange. I lost.
The second game, we agreed to play with the interest and the selling houses for half price. As five year olds playing the game, no one ever abused the house selling priviledge; we just didn't know what interest was. As twenty-something computer science majors, we had all realized during the first game that allowing a person to resell the houses at full price makes the houses a completely liquid commodity like cash, and renders them somewhat pointless.
The second game...I waited a while, and then I broker a three-way trade that, in one transaction, gave us each monopolies. This time Matt got Orange, I got Red (the one better than orange) and Luke got Yellow (the one better than red but not as good as green or dark blue). Such a deal was necessary because in a three person game, none of us were willing to trade unless that trade gave us a monopoly, and the cards just fell in such a way that most colors had each card owned by a different person.
I refrained from my tendency to screw people over by forming secret or non-secret alliances, still remembering the game where Chris, who was the only played not involved in any agreement and was about to lose (while I was about to win), convinced every player other than me to stop honoring all the agreements they made, and the entire tide of the game changed immediately in Chris' favor, who slowly came back from losing everything, absorbing the other players (who were now weakened) one by one until it was just him and me, and he won. That was the last monopoly game I played with Chris. I have another story for Risk.
Anyway, so I didn't attempt any secret alliances and niether of the other players were interested in any creative deals (ex: "you don't have to pay rent this turn if I never have to pay rent on New York"). It was an interesting three way battle. Matt gained the upper hand with the Orange monopoly (we are starting to think that really is the best one). Luke grew closer to losing everything before I did. Luke was also tired of playing monopoly. Therefore, when he got desperate, I brokered a number of deals that saved him from losing the game but which involved me bascially acquiring everything he had for far below market value. In fact, I think I acquired every property he owned for $20. Matt thinks that counted as cheating, but kept playing.
Then something incredibly frustrating happened. Matt had only one monopoly: Orange. I had a monopoly on red, and a monopoly on yellow and every railroad. I had an entire side of the board. Matt only had Orange. However the rolls just landed in such a way that he kept winning. It looked like it was the end. Then due to some windfall like Free parking or maybe Matt just landed on one of my properties for once, I was able to pay to unmortgage all of Lukes properties. Then something weird happened.
We both ended up with unmortgaged properties, and hotels build on every monopoly we owned. We appeared to be evenly matched, and there would be no more trading between us. Only four monopolies on the board were built; te rest were split between us. Therefore, most of the board was effectively safe, save for either a side or two corners, depending on who rolled. Having nothing more to spend cash on, we simply horded it as a reserve against landing on each others hotels. As the game progress, we passed Go and collected $200 again and again, effectively infusing more and more money into the game, until we both had thousands of dollars which we simply traded back and forth.
When we realized this, we stopped playing, because it was clear that the game could continue on forever (or until the bank ran out of money). I did not know such a situation could occur in this game. I suggested we stop, and simply simulate the rest of the game and decide the game based on who was likely to win, even though Matt thought I had cheated him by buying all of Luke's properties for less than market value when Luke was both falling asleep and watching tv instead of paying attention to the game. Matt had already been wanting to quit for like an hour, so he agreed.
Side note: luke actually came back, briefly: after selling me all his properties he still had cash, and due to a bunch of fortunate die rolls managed to accrue enough prize/free parking cash to buy back the yellow monopoly from me for a while, which I freely gave because having luke in the game kept Matt off balance.
Anyway.
If you don't understand how a monopoly game could go on forever, consider this unlikely but technically possible scenario: every player, every turn, rolls a 10. The proceed from Go, to Jail, to Free Parking, to Go to Jail...oh. Well that won't work. Ok, without loss of generality, less asume that if you bored enough right now to go get a monopoly game and look at the board, you would be able to identify some pattern of die rolls that take a player safely from Go, all the way around the board and back to Go without landing on any properties. Every time the a player lands on or passes go, they get $200, but since they do not have to give it to other players, they simply amass the wealth and never lose. Once the money is in the players hands, it never really goes back to the bank (not when all the properties are dealt). Thus, the game can continue forever.
I suspect that our game may have continued on forever. For this reason, I wrote down all relevant information about the state of the gameplay so that I could simulate it from the exactly moment we stopped. The entire point of this post was supposed to just be for me to write down that game state, but now its like 5 in the morning and...well ce la vie:
It is Matt's turn.
Me: current location is Tennesee Ave (middle orange)
I was playing the hat.
$3417
All railroads
all utilities
vermont
oriental
virginia
states ave
pennsylvania
pacific avenue
all reds (all hotels)
all yellows (all hotels)
park place
Luke:
well, he ended on Luxury Tax. Sucks to be him.
Matt: current location is Pennsylvania railroad (2nd railroad)
He is the wheelbarrow. cause thats super important.
all orange (all hotels)
boardwalk
north carolina
connecticut avenue
st charles place
all browns or dark purple, depending on edition (mediterranean ave and baltic) - (all hotels)
Free parking:
the space contains $850. (we played without the initial $500)
The next chance cards to be drawn were this sequence:
-advance to go
-go to reading railroad
-go to st charles
-get $50
-go to jail
-go to nearest railroad (pay owner twice normal rent)
chance cards in discard pile:
-pay each player $50
-lose $15
-goto go ($200)
-goto illinois ave
-get $150
-nearest railroad (pay owner twice rent)
-repairs: $25 for house, $100 per hotel)
-get out of jail free
-go back three spaces (note: this is probably why orange is worth so much!)
-goto boardwalk
-nearest utility (throw dice again and pay 10x)
next community chest cards to be drawn:
-get $200
-goto jail
-repairs: $40 per house, $115 per hotel
-pay $100
-get $100
-get out of jail free
-pay $50
-get $20
-get $100
community chest cards in discard pile:
-get $25
-get $10
-get $50
-get $50
-get $100
-get $10
We were rolling only 2 six sided die for moving. Unmortgaging cost 10% interest. Houses and hotels sold for half. There are 30 of each monetary demonination, making the upper bound of money in the game 30*500+30*100+30*50+30*20+30*10+30*5+30*1 = $20,580. Player behavior is trivial: nothing to spend money on; if cash reserves are insufficient to cover landing on a property, first mortgage properties, starting with the least valuable (by potentional income) one then selling houses (always selling first on the least valuable one by income). When cash exceeds the necessary reserve, starting buying back houses and then unmortaging properties. Exactly what the necessary reserve is probably the only intelligent decision left for us to make, and will be hard to do accurately, but the simulator can make a reasonable guess that matched our atually behavior during the game, simply by looking at the worst payment someone will have to make on their next trip around the board. I might have to play around with the needed reserves. Then again, maybe not. After a while both of hour reservers were enormous.
I'm going to try to write a simulator tomorrow, or sometime. Maybe if I get really bored at work or something. I want to simulate a few million (or billion?) different possible outcomes of the game, and see how many involve my victory, Matt's victory, or a game that runs forever (i.e. the bank runs out of money). I do not have a lot of experience writing simulators. If you have any opinions other than those inspired by being a fanboy of some random language, framework or paradigm, please feel free to share them with me, especially as it relates to the design of the simulator. It seems to me that the Object Oriented approach does not map perfectly to simulations.
BONUS POINTS: can we arrive at such and apparently unbounded situation in monopoly, without someone being, like, a total dick and selling all their cards for a price that is way below fair market value? An interesting question.
A Quarter Mile at a Time
I drove home fast, since I drove home at like 2:30 in the morning (the second monopoly dragged on so long that we were both completely sober well before its hiatus). It was awesome. I don't actually consider myself a "road ninja" in real life. Indeed, the knowledge of driving I've accumulated thus far is only a fraction of what my fictional characters know, and I will probably never catch up to them. I do like to drive fast, though, and long ago I learned that the best chance you have of staying safe (from the cops) is to eschew the technological games completely (radar, lasers, etc) and simply slow down at every single point they could be hiding. I have, therefore, gotten into a habit of jetting through the tunnels as fast as I want and then slowing down right before the exit. Tonight, it paid off when I exited the first tunnel. It took a really long distance for me to slow back down to the absurdly low speed of 60mph, so long that I actually bursted out of the tunnel before I was all the way back down. There was a police cruiser waiting for me, positioned to drive onto the road and give chase immeditately. He must have seen my brake lights and my car dipping forward from the deacceleration, but I was already down to right over 60 and he didn't chase me.
I later remembered that my speedometer is overclocked by, on average, 10 miles per hour. So I actually emerged from the tunnel already doing the speed limit, and that one part where I thought I was doing 110 mph, I was actually doing 100 mph. One hundred miles per hour is actually not fast.
Still, it was a rush to almost get pinned but to be saved by one of the paranoid things I do on the road. I really love driving fast. I can't claim to think that driving can ever be as good as hooking up with a girl, but I'd say two are at least comparable.
[edit]
And Matt has $2761. Man, I thought I lost that.
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