Audition Time

Last Thursday night I had my audition for Blackjack. The audition is where the student goes one-on-one with an instructor in a casino setting putting everything he's learned on the line. Predictably, I ended up with the "tough" instructor. He's a nice enough guy but not as nurturing as the other one and he doesn't hide his frustration with students nearly as well. Also, it seems he revels a bit in tricking students wherein the other is much more straight-forward.

Didn't matter though. I was cocky. I really knew my shit. I got 99 out of 100 correct on our final. Plus, I've been on stage before and I've played guitar publicly and been in sports pressure situations such as baseball and golf and come through on top many times. I was positive I could handle the pressure and subsequent nervousness. Hell, its just dealing some cards and taking and paying cheques (chips).

My shuffle was nearly flawless and well under the time required so I was off to a flying start. Then I made a big mistake. I sent out the wrong number of cheques after the "customer" gave me his money. Of course, in the casino, the floor supervisor would never authorize sending it and I could have easily rectified the situation. However, my instructor who was also the customer told me to send it after I asked for "change $820".

As I pushed the pile out to him, I thought to myself, "I think that's too much. Can't be, though. He said send it." But it didn't feel right. My mind started reeling and he did nothing to help matters. He said, "Well, I'm done playing your table, I think I'll go cash in." It was the exact opposite of nurturing and, in fact, it was very sarcastic. At first I didn't know what he meant. I thought he was testing my customer service. Soon enough, I knew I really screwed up.

He pushed the cheques in front of me, in a big sloppy pile and said, "Re-rack it neatly and try again".

Shit! Shit, shit, shit! "Work with me, nervous fingers, work with me", I thought. My mind raced onto thoughts of wasting 8 weeks of class and not passing.

"Don't be nervous" he said. Yeah, okay, whatever. How do you not be nervous? How can you turn it off? Well, I did minimize it, but I never really felt sharp dealing to him. By feeling sharp, I mean I was in control. It was my table and I know what I'm doing. Because I do normally. I understand, from later conversations he made a woman in my class cry at her audition and she ran off to the bathroom. And I thought she was a pretty good dealer.

I got the checques right the next time but made a simple mistake dealing to him right away. It wasn't a huge mistake, but it surely compounded my thought process. I just couldn't get my mind in synch at all for a bit. I knew I had to slow everything down in my mind in order to get into a dealing groove so I could move along nicely and in rhythm. So much of dealing is going in rhythm and I was a beat off.

After I showed I wasn't a total moron, he gave me a few tricky challenges and payouts and I did very well with them, so at least I ended on a high note but I was very disappointed in myself and I don't think I hid it well.

He asked how I thought I did. I said, "horrible". He sat there with a doofy grin. Thanks for the reassurance, dude!. However, a few moments later, the told me he did the exact same thing in his audition (and, hell, he's a floor supervisor now). He said he thinks part of my problem is I'm a perfectionist and that part of dealing is dealing with mistakes. He went on to say he knows how hard I've worked and how seriously I take the class. Which I do. He told me not to worry myself about it.

Well, I worried myself about it. And when Friday night came and I wasn't called in for a review of my audition, I worried more about it. That, in turn, allowed me to worry about it all weekend even. Lucky!

So last night, we began novelty games. Texas Hold'em bonus was my side's lecture and when the nicer instructor was done he asked, "Who wants to deal?" I volunteered immediately and was nearly flawless in a game I had about 60 minutes of class on. I was much, much better (in my humble opinion) than those that followed me. But then, I do understand the game as I've played it a ton.

I was getting back to my old, cocky self. "They both saw me. They know what I can do" I convinced myself, but I was still concerned I hadn't heard back on my audition review. Many in the class hadn't either.

So after class last night I went to them. "I noticed I hadn't been called in for my audition review. Is that something I should be concerned about?" Both, almost in unison, said, "No, not at all". My audition instructor said, "You didn't show the real you in your audition. We know what what you can do. You have nothing to worry about."

Phew! Thank God!

So, it looks like in 4 weeks I'll get my gaming license in Blackjack and novelties. Apparently, nobody that passes Blackjack fails novelties, so it looks good from here in. The new games are a nice change of pace and I had tons of fun learning last night's, playing it and dealing it.

Brrrrr

We woke up this morning to a temperature of 2 outside. Two degrees! With wind. Brrrrr. But at least we had heat.

Last Thursday we woke up to no heat. The house was about 59 so I stuck around that morning waiting for a serviceman to come fix it. I'm reasonably handy around the house, but I wouldn't know where to begin with that stuff. He arrived promptly and cleaned the furnace nozzle or some shit.

Last Thursday night, Mrs. Bloggger text me in class to say we had no heat! What. The. Fuck? So we "reset it" (pushed a button which gets the heat back on temporarily) and the heat didn't die until the morning wherein Mrs. B. waited for another serviceman. This time he changed some fitzer valve or flux capacitor or some crap like that.

Monday morning comes: we had no heat! Now. You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me.!!!! Arrrrrrgh! So, again Mrs. B. stayed home, the service guy (a different one then the other two) came and adjusted some screw. Allegedly, it was letting too much air in. Yeah, ok. Whatever!

Tuesday morning: guess what? We have no Goddamn heat! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck!!! Its New Year's day, of course and my parents are expected shortly. They send over the tallest serviceman in the history of servicemen. He was 6' 7" I kid you not. I would imagine that's a tough job at that height with all the working in the tight confines, like where my furnace is located. But, hey, that's his problem. This nice enough man (who wanted to talk way too much) replaced the oil filter and flushed out the oil lines. Awesome! Heat! Yay. Take care, Kareem Abdul Jabbar!

Yesterday afternoon my dad (my parents are staying for a bit) calls to say THEY HAVE NO HEAT!! Double-dog-fuckity fuck with a thin layer of fucktardedness and a heaping side of WHAT THE FUCK???!!!! He was apologizing for calling me!

Sorry for my language, but, really! Come On! So, as I'm leaving work early to tend to this matter I realize not one repairman of the four different ones has said anything about the air filter. And, since its a very difficult size to find, I know for fact it hasn't replaced since last summer (it filters the central air too) so I get to thinking.......

I pulled the filter. The friggin' thing was nearly impenetrable. I mean, all clogged up like I panned for gold in the mud with it. In the first class of HVAC school, right after they pass out the syllabus, isn't that where they start? I mean, I'm kicking myself for not thinking of it and I'm not a trained technician.

So I drove half way around the state visiting three "supply stores" before finding the right size wherein I bought a half-dozen of them. Once home, I replaced it and reset the furnace. So far so good. I'm thinking the lack of airflow caused the unit to overheat so it would shut itself down by tripping the reset so as not to burn out the motor or whatever. None of which was covered in my undergraduate Psychology degree at any point.

What do you wanna bet that does the trick? I'll keep my fingers crossed.

And, no, I don't know what the bill is yet. But I'm sure to dispute it heartily.

Bite Your Tongue

I'm not really compulsive. To date, I've never had anything remotely OCD about myself. But lately, I've taken to chewing the sides of my tongue.

I drive a lot. Normally, about 25,000 miles a year and now that dealer school is 130 miles round-trip 4 days a week, that mileage ante is even higher. So, of course, with so much idle time driving, I'm frequently lost in thought. Zoning out if you will. Suddenly, I realize I've been grinding my molars on the sides of my tongue. Chewing, as if I have a piece of steak back there. Except that steak is my tongue and not nearly as tasty.

What's up with that? I don't really hurt it when I chew but I find it a nuisance. It annoys me that I do anything compulsively let alone absent-mindedly, but it annoys me more that after I'm aware I'm doing it I have to dedicate 100% of my attention to stop doing it. I haven't noticed doing it anywhere other than in the car, either.

Is it stress? I honestly don't feel stressed out. Perhaps a habit that I need to work on to break? Great! (That was sarcasm, people. It doesn't translate well in text.)

I definitely grind my teeth in my sleep as evidenced by the "lecture" my dental hygienist gives me every six months, and my Little One does it horribly so, which the dentist insists she'll likely grow out of. Yeah, right.

So what's a guy to do? Google, right? Which I did. Tongue chewing is quite common. As long as the chewer is not drawing blood, apparently, its quite harmless. The Internet is great for learning there's other mental patients out there just like yourself, isn't it?

So I'm not going to sweat it. When I become aware of it, I'll consciously try to "calm" my mouth and perhaps it will pass in time.

Or, perhaps it will lead to some other, even more irritating OCD trait. I'm thinking of taking up the door-locking one in that event. You know, the one where you have to check the lock 70-billion times before leaving that house. I'm lucky if I check it 1/2 the time, now. At least that one serves a purpose in the end. Security.

Dora No Puede Explorar

My Spanish sucks. Does that translate to Dora Cannot Explore? Because she can't.


My wife and I bought the Little One a brand new loft bed. Her bedroom is small so we found that's the perfect solution for creating a bunch of space in her room so she can spread out and play. Plus we have high ceilings so it worked perfectly. Of course, the task involved totally deconstructing her room, building the bed and putting everything back in its new and spacious storage locations.

Toward the end of putting everything back, Mrs. B. stepped on one of the Little One's 3 or so Dora the Explorer dolls. This particularly irritating 15 inch bitch promptly breaks out into song, "Every boy and every girl, every where around the world....." in an incredibly shrill and irritating voice.

The Little One, sensing her mom's frustration with this pestulence, promptly ran over, grabbed little Dora by the ankles and proceeded to Paul Bunyon the thing into the new post of the loft bed. I mean a full-on, axe-type cut that Babe Ruth would have been proud of. Little Dora's head, neck and upper torso took the brunt of the blunt force trauma.

The singing stopped.

Fighting back tears of laughter, the Mrs. shot the Little One a look in an effort to "parent" even though it was hysterically funny. To which TLO responded, "What? It worked, didn't it? That thing's annoying."

Worked, it did. Probably forever. The doll doctor's prognosis for future Dora Exploration is not good. The prognosis for future stage and screen work is even dimmer.

Good.

Bummer

My mom wasn't feeling well enough to come down for the holiday. To top it off, my dad had come down with something as well. Bummer.

The plan now is a New Year's visit.

Other than that, I really enjoyed my long holiday weekend.

Merry Christmas to you too!

http://view.break.com/420325

Aww, c'mon Santa! You're better than that!

Must be the stress of so many unfinished toys and so few days left. That, or kid's pissing on his lap.

Have a Merry Christmas everyone!

Late, late, late, late, late show.

One of my main worries when I started dealer school was the long drive home after midnight. I feared I would be exhausted and fighting falling asleep at the wheel. That hasn't been an issue at all. In fact, after class I'm kind of wired up and usually stay up for 45 minutes to an hour once I get home, which means I'm getting to sleep around 2 a.m.

Since I've learned I'll be awake anyway, I've been stopping at the gym on my way home once or twice a week on days I haven't been able to get my workout in at lunchtime or right after work (but before school). So I'm in the gym at 1 a.m. working out. Its quiet and nice and tons of equipment is available. I was very happy a few years ago when my gym switched to 24-hour format because I've always been inconsistent in my workout scheduling and like all the flexibility I can get.

Plus, the tendinitis in my elbow has been cooperating. Things are good. This week marks the half way point of schooling too. We have a final, for blackjack, next week and our "auditions" the week of the first. The audition is the review of your dealing abilities and knowledge of all the rules and procedures. I'm pretty confident I'll do well.

Then the last few weeks are novelty games: Acey Ducey, Casino War, the Money Wheel, Caribbean Stud and Texas Hold 'Em.

I'm getting there!