Back to the Casino

It's not so surprising how many people are at the city casino on a Wednesday morning--mostly Asians.

I didn't really know why I was there. I didn't feel like playing anything. That was till I saw the Hold'em tables upstairs. A maximum of $100 buy-in on the tables. It's a pretty small section of possibly 6-7 tables.

"I'll skip this round," I thought. "Shark attack waiting to happen."

After a half hour of just observing, my brother and I went downstairs; which was where I started to itch for a round of roulette after watching a few spins.

I put in $20 and cashed out $90 the first time. Then later after the second beer, went back to the table and inserted another $20 and came out with $101.

This was Rapid Roulette--where the betting time is shorter. So I missed a few hits, but no point thinking about that.

Still Settling In

Every time I wake up, I feel foreign--disoriented. That feeling when you don't know which direction you're facing in bed, even though it should be obvious to you.

Or not

It has become increasingly colder here than when I first arrived in late February. It was warm then compared to the soon-to-be rigid-fingers-freeze. And it's not winter yet.

There's going to be hell to pay again as I acclimate further and it'll be my fingers paying them as I have yet to stop cracking them as I set out to weeks ago--a really bad habit. In my mind, this appears as though it will affect the movement of my fingers a lot, but I can't be very sure.

Being sure implies certainty and there's nothing really certain about my life, sadly. There should be. Or not. I can't be certain.

Sometimes, I don't even really know what these ramblings are about but a stream of words somewhat related to cracking knuckles/fingers and the cold.

I don't like Omaha

I played poker today.

Here, they play for $5 for 5000 in chips, with the blinds increasing now and again from 25/50 till 75/150.

Neither did I win nor lose any money as I needed not pay, but that's not important.

The players here are pretty alright--brother's friends--and they mostly play for fun and pride rather than stakes. I still think that it's easier to get called on when stakes are so low, but I think it's highly unlikely that they'll convert to higher stakes.

The players here (who usually play Hold 'em) are playing more 'Omaha', which to most of you is much different than what we're used to. Any four cards can get you in trouble because it really blinds the fact that you are only playing with two of the four cards. Two pairs, trips, can sometimes be so trivial.

So the whole time, the games would swap from Texas Hold 'em and Omaha depending on the dealer's prerogative. However, I think more of Omaha was dealt.

Mainly, I was uncomfortable with the idea that I have to adjust (from scratch) to a different game on the night I play with new people after not playing since I left KL. I learnt that I'm slowly losing my grasp of the game--what time does, I suppose.

Due South

I had gone south this weekend. to Napier and Hastings, wine country and art capital (said somewhere/someone) of NZ, apparently. It was in the book--a rough guide to NZ. It's a small quiet town (but not rural) further south on the eastern coast of the North Island.

It took about 5-6 good hours of looking out the window of a minivan/MPV/whatever the fuck have you, into a largely different scenery that you see back there, wherever that is; into a world of rolling hills, thick dense bush, coastline, rolling hills once more, vineyards, paddocks, way too many farm animals, and sometimes: combinations of the above.

In my travels--as though I've traveled a lot--I happened across hundreds in both cattle and sheep, loads of red deer, plenty of horses, some ponies, emu, and one donkey (just one in the middle of nowhere; alone; like me; jackass... and the being alone part). There were probably more animals than I can remember. But that's one big farm blur to me. I tried to take pictures for you but the car/minivan went by too quickly.

There are so many varieties of things to view from down there, though I didn't get the full views.
Mini breweries can be found there and about; there was one place called 'The Rooster,' where you are able to buy big bottles (called flagons)--these are the LARGE coca-cola sized ones--of whichever ale you want to take back home

There was a night at a motel, with a visit to the hot springs or thermal bath area alongside the coast. This must be a place where the locals go on weekends with the family (at a price of $10 a head for adults) because it was pretty crowded. The other thermal area we stopped at was a place called Kerosene Creek--an actual creek where natural (pungent) thermal water flows freely, which was off the beaten path somewhere in Rotorua--I don't know, I fell asleep in the car.

Coordination

I should probably tell you all that I have a foosball table. I don't know why I should, but it appears to be something I would think you might like to know. It's one of those Tornado Tables that those pubs and pool houses carry.

And so, over the past few days since the weekend the table had been assembled (in the hallway next to my room) I've come to learn that I have very poor hand-eye coordination.

I'm lying about that--I didn't just learn it over the weekend or anything of the like. It's been like that since I was a kid. After a certain speed, my reactions are generally poorer in quality.

Badminton shuttlecocks are a prime example of this. Are you like me? Does the shuttlecock miss the racquet by mere inches? Are you like me--that when you miss it, you are no longer embarrassed because it no longer seems to be an issue of skill levels; that somehow or rather through either spellbinding magic or a higher form of sorcery, the opponents have been given an edge over you?

I'm just kidding about that: of course there's still some embarrassment, but it's only embarrassment from not being selected, picked by the divine almighty Badminton wind spirits. I hate them.

Come to whatever conclusion you feel like, but just don't start with your crazy-eyes comments because they will be filtered. Carefully filtered.

I stopped playing Badminton long ago; since primary school. By "playing" the idea of consistently or regularly is best suitable. I don't remember having this problem with missing, then but things are rather foggy in that direction of my life.

And Kwang Ming asked me to play football with them. He was trying so hard to persuade me. The guy is unwavering. No never means no. I'll be avoiding that football phone call, I assure you that. I have a strange feeling I have poor foot-eye coordination as well.

April Baby

I was April fooled when someone answered my "what's new?" with "nothing much, same old, except that I'm going to be a father."

Suffice it to say that that is evidently not the case.

Mantidae

It's about time for another insect post, and this week, I present to you: The Praying Mantises that find their way into the house. They make fluttering noises just soft enough for you to hear them. I once confused one for a clock. I was in the dark.

Being one of the insects that have a strange appearance, it's about time to start disliking something else. Thin stick legs; large eyes with a dot in the centre; what appear to be mandibles; jagged claw appendages thingamajinga--which folds backwards giving the impression of a serrated cutting process to follow.

This must be the season as they come in swarms. Already there have been three. That's almost as many drunk white men I've encountered in one sitting.