Monday, April 30, 2012

The Minivan Puppet Show

You can tell the bear is trying to escape.
I was in a bad mood while driving to work yesterday.

I really shouldn’t have been in a bad mood.  Three weeks ago I started a new job, and I completely love it.  I make double what I made at my last job and everyone I work with seems to love being there.  For these first few weeks, I have actually looked forward to going to work.
Weird, I know.

But there is a tournament series going on, which means the poker room is busier and they need us to work more shifts.  I am now halfway through thirteen straight days of work.

I don’t care what kind of job you have, thirteen straight days is annoying.

What bothered me the most, however, was the fact that the Flyers played their first game of the second round of playoffs yesterday.  At work, there are televisions broadcasting the game in every direction, but it just isn’t the same watching the game out of the corner of my eye while dealing hands of poker.  Aside from the Game 1 and Game 3 (which I went to) of the first round, I have had to watch every playoff game at work.

To top things off, traffic was moving slowly on West Chester Pike, and various annoyances had led me to walk out the door later than I wanted, so there was a growing fear of being late for work.

So there I sat at a red light, fatigued from being overworked, antsy for traffic to get moving, and daydreaming of watching that afternoon’s game at home with a beer.

As the red light changed to green and the river of cars began to trickle down the road, a dog’s head popped out of the backseat window of the minivan in front of me.

This isn’t a particularly compelling event.  Dogs are always popping their heads out of cars.

What was different about this dog’s head was the fact that it didn’t belong to a living creature, but rather a stuffed animal.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Tag, I'm It

I remember back in elementary school when we played tag on the playground.  If whoever was "It" was chasing me down, one of my tricks was to spin in a circle with my arms outstretched so that if he tagged me, I would immediately tag him back with my helicopter arms.  And it would probably hurt.

This kept them away until they introduced the "Tag, No Tag Backs" rule, in which whoever was "It" was immune to becoming "It" from the person they had just passed the germ to.  Either my memory has faded or the rules were unclear to begin with, but I remember it always led to controversy.

How long was the person immune?  Three seconds?  A minute?  The entire recess?

I also remember there being some stipulation wherein whoever was "It" actually had to say the entire phrase "Tag No Tag Backs" before the other person tagged him, as if it were some incantation that was powerless unless recited to completion.  This led to an inevitable battle in which one kid would hit the other and then reel back, attempting to avoid the counterattack, usually failing.  They would stand there, taking turns tagging each other and attempting to get out the words "Tagnotagbacks" for minutes until one would finally run away, claiming victory.  The other would yell at him as he ran away, screaming "I got you!  I got you!" and then he would cry.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that Brett over at The Transformed Non-Conformist tagged me with a quiz for my readers to get to know me better.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The Alumni Magazine

My college sends out an alumni magazine once or twice a year.

Reading the magazine doesn’t take long.  As I did with The Berenstain Bears before I learned how to read, I quickly flip through the pages, taking note of the pictures.  Then I say “All done!” and deposit it into the trash*.

*I would NEVER throw a Berenstain Bears book into the trash.  Only alumni magazines.

The magazine highlights what is going on in the University.  It touches on the new buildings, new programs, publications/awards of the professors, and other pat-themselves-on-the-back boasts. 

Stuff I’m not interested in, basically.

Monday, April 23, 2012

You Make Me Vibrate

Did you know that you make me vibrate?


You do.

You see, anytime someone comments on my blog, I get an e-mail notification.  And my phone is synced up with my e-mail account.

So through the magic of technology, every time you post a comment on any of my posts, you make me vibrate.

Friday, April 20, 2012

The Rise of Shane Lazypunk


A little while back, I wrote a post about a gas station attendant who was too busy playing on his phone to do his job and fill my tank.

I imagined that his name was Shane Lazypunk.

The kid continued texting or tweeting or words-with-friends-ing or whatever the hell he was doing while another attendant from the other side of the gas station (who I called Kevin Doeshisjob) came over to do Shane's job for him.

In my blogging rage, I made a fake Twitter account for him so that I could properly document what I thought he might be tweeting at the time.

For the blog post, I tweeted from his account twice, followed the account from @YoungmanBrown, took screenshots of the tweets, and posted them on the blog.  And that was it.  Shane Lazypunk was forever out of my life.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Supposibly, I Hate You

When it comes to grammar, there are many things people do that annoy me.

I’m sure that there are some things I do that annoy people, too.  For example, people might get mad when they see the prepositions that I sometimes end sentences with.

Additionally, I always mispronounce “nuclear” so that it sounds more like “new-cue-lur.”

I probably do other annoying things, but whatever.  This isn’t about me.

I can shrug off almost any grammatical error.  There is one particular word, however, that is a deal breaker.  One unforgivable mistake that will send me into a state of mental rage.

If you say the word “supposibly” instead of “supposedly,” then I most likely hate you.

Monday, April 16, 2012

My Black Friday

If you have been following this blog for a while, you know that I used to be a professional poker player. 

I was somewhat of a latecomer to the game, and when I started playing for a living in 2009, the poker boom had already been reverberating for years. 

Yours truly.
While many people say the boom is still going strong, the main difference is that there aren’t many new players.  Nowadays, the typical poker player has been playing for years and has experience – the one thing they were previously lacking.  Sure, they made mistakes.  But the mistakes weren’t nearly as atrocious as the ones they made in years past, and they didn’t make them as frequently. 

As time went on, the skill gap continued to shrink, as did my edge.  With the addition of the rake charged by the casinos, playing live poker wasn’t nearly as profitable as it had been.

So in 2011, I tried something different.  I set a goal to achieve Supernova Elite on Pokerstars (an online poker site).

I don’t really want to get too technical, but essentially this would require me to earn 1,000,000 frequent player points in a calendar year.  To do this, I would need to play just under 4 million hands of poker, which ended up being about 10,000 hands per day.  This was online poker, so I was able to play on 24 games at the same time, having to make constant decisions.  This resulted in long, stressful hours as well as incredibly large swings in wins and losses.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Time A Ghost Touched Me

It did NOT go down like this*.
*If you came to this post for laughs, you just got the only one.  You've been warned.

One of my favorite bloggers, the Tsaritsa, recently wrote about ghosts.

I figured what better time to write about the time that I got touched by a ghost at Pennhurst State Hospital than when The Tsarista asked for guest bloggers.  I've been wanting to write about it for a long time, but it was actually a pretty crazy event that definitely affected the way I look at the world.

So definitely don't expect a normal Youngman Brown post.  I'm all serious and stuff.

But definitely read it anyway:

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

The Happiness "Poem"

Feeling sad?
Just remember:
Osama bin Laden
Is fucking dead.

-Youngman Brown

Monday, April 9, 2012

Insecure at the Jersey Shore

One of my friends IRL (in real life) recently started a blog called "The Young Female Professional."  I like to think that I am somewhat responsible when people who read my blog create their own (four of my friends have done it in the past few months).

But in this case, it was inevitable.

She has dated such a multitude of tragically flawed men that if she was not able to vent by putting it out in writing... I think her brain would break.

I was honored that she decided to ask me to do a guest post for her blog, so I thought I would write about why she hasn't been on a date with such an epically amazing man as me ... because I'm a wimp when it comes to approaching women at bars.  Especially bars which are packed with a myriad of creepy and aggressive dudes.

Here are some reasons that you should go read it:

Friday, April 6, 2012

Sex Chat with a Robot

Robots don't do it for me.  Robot maids, though.....

I have a whole bunch of e-mail accounts.

Most of them have a 2-3 year lifespan.  They are all created with an aim at a spam-free, fresh start, in which I only give my e-mail address to my close family and friends.  But the accounts eventually become inundated with junk mail and I must move on to a new electronic identity, much like the Witness Protection Program.

But the thing is, I can never completely dispose of my past e-mail accounts.  Not because I am sentimental or an electronic hoarder, but because I know that I will undoubtedly encounter a scenario in which I must recover a password to another website.  And the only way to recover that password is to have it sent to my ancient e-mail address that I used to register way back when.

That's what I had to do a couple weeks ago, in order to obtain my password to a Paypal account that I hadn't accessed since high school.

As is often the case in this electronic equivalent to digging through storage boxes, I was immediately harassed with a little pop-up box on the bottom right-hand corner of my Yahoo! inbox.

These are always spam chat messages, and the older the e-mail account, the more pop ups I receive when I log in.

I had x'd out all but two, when I decided that I was bored and I'd actually write back.

Here's how it went:

Thursday, April 5, 2012

The Eve of Opening Day (A "Poem")

All it takes, I know,
Is just that crack,
The crowd's first roar,

To wash away the
pain, gloom, sorrow
of seasons yore.

So, like a little girl,
I gleefully lay my outfit
The night before.

Yes, I even wear pants on Opening Day.

-Youngman Brown

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The Bottom of the Pool

Yahoo! Answers: Where mean-spirited and uncreative people go to get advice:

I laughed at the idiocy and wickedness of this response (as well as the legitimacy of the "source")

But apparently, it was exactly what the doctor ordered:

In stumbling upon this page, I am reminded of one of the funniest things I have ever heard.

It was on a Sunday morning and I was in sixth, maybe seventh grade CCD (Sunday School).  It was a quiet moment during Catechism class.  We were left alone and my friend David* and I got to talking.

*You may remember David as the person I tried to dump my role as Jesus in the Passion Play onto.

I don’t remember what we were talking about to bring it up, but David told me about an experience he had at a public swimming pool:

Sunday, April 1, 2012

A is for Ambitious

Many of my fellow bloggers are participating in the A to Z Challenge, in which they write 26 posts in April, each one having to do with a topic starting with each letter of the alphabet on a different day.

Among others, Stephanie, MOV, Patt Hatt, and G have decided to take on the challenge.

And I have decided to join them.

Today is April 1st, so naturally the letter I need to write about is A.

A is for...


A is for........