Turkish barber
What a luxury it is to utilise a turkish barber. They are truely a 'cut' above the competition, whether it's the use of fire to singe off your excess ear hair or the cut-throat razor to tidy up your neck the end result is always exceptional.
I have however developed a concern from frequenting said establishments. During the clippers stage the barber will always offer to trim my eyebrows and I will always refuse. I do have confidence in their practices and am sure they would make a good job of it but my concern is the possible compulsory continuation.
I pressume once you have such a trim it would become necessary to keep up the practice and herein lies the problem. What if I need a hair cut where there is no turkish barber? I don't want to ever have to ask a regular barber to trim my eyebrows, a practice they undoubtebdly would not be accustomed to and would perhaps make a mess of.
Nobody wants nor deserves wonky, uneven or unkempt eyebrows... a dilema indeed.
You can't make a sophisticated play on an unsophisticated player - pokerism
New Poll - my secret tv pleasure
After years of the same poll I have decided to embark on a new one, I am nervous about this as the true answer to this poll is as of yet an undisclosed personal secret.
Out of the seven possible tv shows 6 of them I detest with a passion and would rather have the tv off than watch them! One answer however is a secret tv pleasure, which I will watch over most other programmes on telly.
I have never told anyone of my guilty secret and have found myself, when others are in the room, suffering in silence rather than watching what I really want.
What do you think it might be?
Happy Merry Christmas 2009 - The hospital part 2
After a fairly restless sleep I awake at 6am (not my usual morning time to say the least) with my right eye caked firmly shut under some alien-like crust. I can't open it with the nature appointed facial muscles so decide this is a finger and thumb job, perhaps this was my mistake, perhaps I should have written the eye off forever at this point.
As soon as the eye was prised open I knew something was wrong, not only was the pain now quite incredible it was the sound that got me, what was that? Ferocious blinking and toe curling insued as I finally figured out what the noise was, my eye was spurting liquid outta my eye straight onto my pillow... taxi !
At the A&E department a nurse from the previous day recognised me as soon as I entered and quizzed me as to what happened, again I got taken through the back immediately. This time with a different doctor, who put a local anesthetic in my eye (heaven), I went through the same routine of eye dye, blue light, and bright (as fuck) white light. He was however keen to refer me to an eye specialist (good idea perhaps?) and promptly got on the phone to make arrangements.
I was given directions to Edinburgh's 'eye pavillion' and told to bring an over night bag, just in case.
Happy Merry Christmas 2009 - The hospital part 1
'Ouch, just looking at you is making me blink', was my reception from the receptionist at A&E, followed by, 'I'm afraid there is a 3 to 4 hour wait at the moment', thankfully followed by, 'but you look quite bad so I'll see what I can do'.
So straight through to a wee consultation booth from where I can hear the torrent of old folks coming in off the ambulances. They've all slipped on the winter ice trying to get a paper or some milk from the shop and broken bones, as I'm sitting there I can't help thinking to myself I'd swap for a broken arm all day long.
Anyways, after a certain amount of dicking about transfering from one in-house doc to another, having various soothing creams squirted in my eye I get a dollop of yellow dye inserted. As the room turns yellow it feels like I'm wearing shades without the inconvenience of actually
wearing shades. The dye is precursor to a 'slit-lamp examination' entailing having blue and bright (and I mean bright as fuck) white light poured into the already sensitive eye.
I was released some 4 hours later. The diagnosis was an ulcer on my cornea, 'painful but you should live, if it gets any worse feel free to come back', again said in such a way that you leave thinking 'I'll not be back'.
Happy Merry Christmas 2009 - The dentist
I awake on Friday aware of an acute pain in my head, no my eye. Hmmmm, more eye cream? Yes, loads, I have a dentist appointment in an hour and a weekend of poker planned. Sitting in the waiting area of the dentist is when things first got noticably worse, something like tears was streaming out my eye down my cheek (under the trusty eye patch which was becoming saturated), I was running out of tissue paper. My appointment was due any second, should I leave?, the pain was increasing too, felt like a piece of rough sand paper was caught between my eyeball and lid, rough side facing in.
'Stuart Thomson please', fuck that's me, too late to leave, ok lets just do this, only a check up. I remove the now pesky eye patch and open up the spectacle for the world to see, I can tell it must be bad due to peoples reactions. The nurse, although smiling looks concerned as she asks, 'are you ok?', followed by a nervous laugh. The dentist too, after a brief explanation, immediately asks, 'are you ok to do this now?'. Well I had come this far, so after a few awkward minutes winking at the ceiling, mouth wide open, it was over. She did have some advice though, 'I think you should go straight to the hospital'.
Happy Merry Christmas 2009 - The beginning
This year's xmas will go down as my grimmest ever (or so far anyways).
Starting on 15th December I had a red eye, no pain just a bit bloodshot so nothing to worry about, 'it'll be aright tomorrow'. Tomorrow comes and my right eye is inflammed and still bloodshot, but no pain and not irritated so life goes on. By 6pm (and after a few pints) I am becoming more and more conscious of it, and so are others, especially as I point and ask, 'is my eye still red?'. Still, having had hayfever before which can have similar effects on the eyes, I was unperturbed and whilst consciously not rubbing it was becoming ever more aware of it, as the eye became lame and half closed.
Thursday morning was when I decided a rare trip to the doctor was in order, and walked up there eye beaming red and inflamed, but no pain. I was told I had conjuctivitus (word rings a bell) and 3/4 days with prescribed cream would see me restored back to full health, or at least back to the somewhat dubious health level I was normally at.
I left feeling fine, this'd be cleared up by xmas so nae bother, the doc had said if it gets any worse just go to the hospital but it was said in such a way as to make that seem incredibly unlikely. Plus, an eye patch was recommended, and duly picked up at the pharmacy en route home, it may at least stop people staring at me for my incessant winking that was now prevailant in my right eye.
Poker diary day two
Wake up at 2am Sunday morning, shower and get organised. Nice clean shirt, 40 ciggies, £500 cash ready to go for 3am. Arrive at casino 10 minutes walk later (the benifits of living so close) and promptly purchase a bottle of beer and head out for a smoke. Beer and ciggie done I buy another bottle and head for the poker tables.
By 5.30am, after a reload, i find myself up £50 so cash up and head out for a smoke. With only 4 players available there is no private cash game so we prepare to head home and I'm thinking to myself I just woke up a few hours ago, what am I gonna do all day?. Outside waiting is another player (banned from casino) so now we have 5, another player turns up from inside so now 6, game on.
Drive to the same house (6.30am), via garage for fags and snacks. No booze, drunk Irish demolished it yesterday, lots of cups of coffee instead. By 10am two players leave, one up £80 and one down £200, I am even money at £100. Two bottles of wine are purchased and consumed over the next few hours as I change gears turning my £100 into £760, the game dies (1pm) I'm up £700 for night.
After a coupla pints and a pub Sunday roast, home then smoke then bed (6pm). Waking at 4.30am (Mon) to consider how to correct my sleep patterns.
Poker diary day one
Tired all day Friday so go to bed at 6pm and sleep untill 1am (Sat) whereupon I get up. shower and get organised. Nice clean shirt, 40 ciggies, £500 cash ready to go for 3am. Arrive at casino 10 minutes walk later (the benifits of living so close) and promptly purchase a bottle of beer and head out for a smoke. Beer and ciggie done I buy another bottle and head for the poker tables.
After 2 hours of play last three hands of the night is called (5.30am) and I find myself up £150. After cashing up I have 5 single pound chips and so spread them out across a roulette table and proceed to hit 5 spins in a row sending me back to cash desk for another £80.
Outside smoking the next private cash game is decided, we have 7 players including 3 drunk young irish guys. Drive to the house via garage for fags and snacks, arriving 10mins later (6.30am). Table is set up in massive living room of beautiful 3 story 4 bedroom modern house.
Everyone buys in for £100. Drunk irish are happy to continue drinking large vodkas as they chat loudly about their night before, offering up their wisdom of poker for all to absorb. After a good start they all end up reloading and within 3 hours of play 2 are passed out on the sofa broke while the final contender nurses his last £50 in chips, they leave around 10am.
Play continues vigourously with 5 players (one more arrival). I'm in for £400 and sitting about even by midday, lots of potential on the table with some £2000 available. One chinese player busts out but wants to continue and offers up his £300 D&G watch for sale which is snapped up for £75, 30 minutes later he busts out and goes home, after borrowing £1 for a bus.
By 5pm Saturday the game draws to a close, I cash out £750 giving me around £550 profit for the evening. 3 of us drive to a chinese restaurant for crispy duck and dim sum. Home then smoke then bed.
