Sam and I keep a spreadsheet where we log all of our shared housing expenses. At the end of the month (well, supposedly the end of the month. It's more like at the end of every fiscal quarter), we look to see how much one of us owes the other, and one of us cuts a check to the other. It's usually me cutting the check, since Sam pays the cable bill, and my major house expense is the electric bill. And entertainment is more expensive than necessity (it's funny that I'm pissed about that. Because if it were the other way around, I would also be pissed about it. I'm just that kind of guy, I guess). But I'll show him this month - I've been running the air conditioner in my room, even when I know I'm going away for the weekend. I gotta pick up my end so maybe this time *I* get a check from him. You know, it's funny that I'm usually the one writing him a check when the time comes around, because we don't get cable anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I wonder if he's been screwing me for the past few months. Probably not, but one of these days I'm going to hold an audit.

That would actually be really funny, come to think of it. I'd get a hand-crank calculator, and one of those green visors that you always see on the quintessential accountant (ref: Monty Python and The Meaning Of Life - Chapter 0: The Crimson Permanent Assurance). And then I could use the visor for when I'm dealing during my weekly poker game. Which, by the way, has become the high point of my week (I wonder if the reason I'm feeling down this week is because I haven't had my poker fix). It's a really great time - $20 buy-in (we're no high rollers), roving location (we somehow never get invited back to anyone's place), surprisingly low level of beer intake (it's not like pool - the drunker you get, the worse a poker player you are). Other than the low blood alcohol levels at the end of the night, poker night definitely has everything that I'm looking for in a night out with friends. Unlike Tetris tournaments, I'm involved in a competition with Ben in which I have some chance of coming out ahead (he has a tendency towards steaming - the act of high risk betting due to anger or frustration). We have special guests (these guests, called "pigeons," often come to the table with little knowledge of the game, and a good attitude toward losing their stake), and we're still all in bed in time for work the next day (which you wouldn't think would be a plus, but I'm a crotchety old man who needs a full 10 hours of sleep before I head to the office, else I'm cranky(-ier) all night.

Best of all, we have jargon. And if there's anything I love, it's jargon. Really, I think the reason I got involved in computers in the first place (other than a mistaken impression that being handy with an operating system meant that beautiful women would be throwing themselves at my feet - durn recruiter!), is because I always wanted to know a foreign language, but never really had the faculty, drive, or any real reason other than wanting to be able to be snide in front of people and not have them understand (computers, of course, were a god send. They allowed me to learn a new language that interested me, and provide nearly infinite opportunity to be snide around people who don't grok it). So when the guy across the table from me is doing a recap of the hand and says "When I had American Airlines in the pocket I thought I was in good shape. But then another came up on the flop, so I knew I had to go big. With a short run on the felt after the turn, I knew this girl was fishing for a straight on the river. Little did I know that when the last card flipped, she had the nuts - straight flush to take my trips. Fucker" I know I'm involved in something highly worthwhile.

Best of all, the worst case is that you blow your wad - and that means you're out $20 on the night. Making it what might be the cheapest night you have all week that doesn't involve sitting at home and watching Futurama. And even then, you've clearly ordered out for soft tacos, and that's putting you back a ten spot. Add that to the amortized cost of running your projector for a few hours, and you've probably matched the poker night dollar for dollar. Of course, not everyone has those particular problems. But you get my point.

Or maybe you don't, since I just decided what my point should be. My point, dear readers, is that WHAT ARE YOU DOING READING THIS FUCKING BLOG AND NOT WATCHING FUTURAMA?!?!?!?! Seriously. It's the best show ever. And if not ever, than definitely recently (which is funny, because I'm only up to the third season, which can be considered 'recent' only by a fairly generous definition. But let's be honest - it's competing against The Swan, and Fear Factor. Fear Factor being a show where people actually eat worms and are crawled upon by tarantulas for your amusement [actually, I haven't yet decided if that's the worst thing ever, or if it elevates us up to and past the level of Middle Age royalty. Either way, it's absolutely horrendous]). And yesterday I watched an episode that starred Beck (Beck's head, really). If there's anything funnier than Futurama, it's an episode of Futurama featuring Beck's head. At one point, Bender was challenged on the meaning of a word, and had to whip out his Becktionary (from Bzooty to Whiskeyclone). Beyond this point I can tell you nothing that happened in the episode, since I was launched into a Zen-like state of serene bliss where time and space meant nothing to me (that, or I passed out from drinking too much olive oil. Which, since I haven't been to the supermarket in a while [and I'm far too lazy to go to freshdirect.com and have people actually deliver food to my front fucking doorstep], is the only thing I had in my kitchen that even remotely resembled a liquid. It's not so bad if you have that Four Seasons dressing mix to spice it up a little).

Finally, for those of you who have contacted me for a CD - sorry about the delay. I realized that I don't have a CD burner, so I had to wait for my housemate to leave so I could sneak in his room and make the CDs. Then I realized that I have no idea where to buy padded shipping envelopes after business hours. But they'll be going out this weekend, and you should be getting them soon (assuming, of course, that you don't live on a military base in Germany, in which case 'soon' should probably be considered a relative term).