I have nothing to say because I'm busy being emo.

For those not savvy to the slang terms of the time, the definition for "Emo" according to Slang Dictionary is as follows:

Definition: Emo is an abbreviation for Emotionally Disturbed teen or pre-teen person. One would think that the whole world is against them and even consider severance from friends and/or family to provide the need for more personal attention/involvement.
Usage: Tina is such and Emo, moping around all day long thinking the world is against her.

Or, the one I like better:

Definition: Complete idiots. So called "emotionals" often attempt to get depressed about anything and everything and over react emotionally for no reason other than to be attention whores.

Okay, so obviously I'm not really emo.  I could never pull off the hairstyle and vintage jeans, anyway. And who has time to cut themselves these days? My insurance deductible is through the roof and antibiotics won't earn me much street cred. Yeah, emo isn't for me. I'll just be part of generation "Blah".

I try to knock out a blog post a week.  I've been slacking because, honestly, poker has been the last thing I want to talk about lately.  The people I care about have been running terrible in Vegas with few exceptions, my job is stressing me out to the nines, and I'm at an extreme crossroads in terms of what the next step for me is.



With options like these, it's a wonder I ever leave the house.



The evil bitchy side of me can think of a million things and people I can relentlessly make fun of here.  It'd make you laugh and would only cost me one or two facebook friends.  A small penance to pay for comedic genius.

The frustrated employee in me could write a novel about why my job has me pulling my hair out, why I feel like a failure almost every day and how I'm up against challenges I may not be able to beat. And people I may not be able to win over.


Female Pattern Baldness - A potential side effect of this industry.



The scared little girl in me could explain how I'm at a crossroads of decisions, where no matter what I choose I lose something or someone important to me. A win-win full of lose-lose. But I don't want to talk about it.



The romantic in me could write a tri-fold brochure about someone who makes me smile even if he has no idea to what extent. And how irrelevant it is, but nice all at the same time.

The pissed off Republican in me could go to Federal Prison for the things I'd like to say about our current government.  The true crime enthusiast could vomit up a whole slew of words to chat about the travesty that is the Casey Anthony verdict.

And mostly, the newly-turned 31 year old woman in me, who is sitting out on the family farm alone at 1:15 in the morning watching bad 90's movies from Netflix and listening to the frogs croak, just wants to curl up and go to sleep.



Mel Gibson's been rockin' that hair since I was in diapers.



I don't know whats wrong with me.  I'm in a mild, controllable funk of epic miniature proportions. I need a magic 8 ball, a trust fund, a time travel device, a jet on standby, a handful of roofies and a hug. The roofies aren't for me, so I'm not planning anything self destructive. No worries.

I'll be around. And with more uplifting and informative posts in the near future.  For now though, I think I am going to curl up and go to sleep.  Hope you're all well and haven't completely forgotten me. :)