The RO Report, "Phoenix" Edition

I'll have the post up a little late...

UPDATE: And when I say "late" I mean this weekend. We're busy preparing for our daughter's birthday party and I won't have time to get to the post tonight. So, I give you the rare reason to stop by this weekend. Thanks for all the nice comments on my earlier post.

Okay, Sunday night and I'm about 10% recovered from the birthday party. We'll see where that gets me.

On Friday I named the report the "Phoenix" edition because it featured me coming back from a huge deficit in the last hour of trade. Also, the market started off smoked and ended the day positive. So, you know, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes...

I guess I was feeling pretty dramatic at 4:05 or whenever I came up with that title.

Today, I'm not feeling dramatic at all and think the title is very hokey.

Anyway, I don't remember too much about Friday. I've completely erased the work portion of that day from my memory. Okay, I remember one thing, which is kind of funny. I bought a boatload of FLE at .09 and sold it at .13, all in a manner of seconds. Pennystocking indeed, suck my nuts Timmay.

Yes, apparently I'm in an aggressive mood. I guess I'll just get right to the numbers.

Out of 25 traders on Friday, 15 finished gross positive, or 60%. 7 traders made over $1,000 gross, while 4 traders lost over $1,000 gross. Average numbers. I was #6 of 25, very happy considering the depths I touched.

"Lucky Pierre" - Trader B, $15,240 on 409k shares traded.

2. Trader Z, $13.518 on 276k shares traded.
3. Trader C, $12,778 on 252k shares traded.
4. Trader P, $5,245 on 290k shares traded.
5. Trader 9*, $3,646 on 3,800 shares traded.

"Chambermaid" - Trader H*, -$6,781 on 4,200 shares traded.

2. Trader R, -$1,323 on 33,000 shares traded.
3. Trader L, -$1,149 on 27,600 shares traded.
4. Trader D, -$1,003 on 423k shares traded.
5. Trader E, -$855 on 48,900 shares traded.

IMPORTANT INTERNET NOTICE: Our friend Shane who was the brains behind Wall Street Fighter has moved on. If you enjoyed his morning links before, you can find them now at his new blog, "Butterknuckle." In addition, for something completely different, (think Break meets "Am I Hot Or Not") check his other project, "Looku." Please, go check out his new sites.

Aqua Teen Hunger Force Movie Intro

(h/t Trader Z)

See You Later Happy Birthday "Munch"

Solid surf and my daughter's fourth birthday means I won't be trading this market until the late afternoon.

Don't blow up.

UPDATE: Surfing trip cancelled due to the impending Great Depression/riots.

That's right. I left the house pre-dawn, stepping out into a tremendous gale (I think "tremendous gale" sounds very 1930s, no?) and drove to my surf buddy's house. Water had flooded the back room of his house and he didn't look like a millionaire... he looked haggard. Still, we pressed on.

As we sped down the local turnpike, his thumbs were flying all over his Blackberry as he shot emails off to important clients. He's a real estate agent, and he's working on a couple of large deals. Anyway, despite the fact that I left my house without looking at the market on purpose, so as not to be detracted from my decision to "take off," I gave in and said, "Dude, anyway you can get me a futures quote on that thing?"

He looked at me like I was from 1996 and said, "Yeah, it's called CNBC." Seconds later he was staring down at the screen, face blue from the illumination and said, all too calmly, "The futures are down 311 points."

311 points!

"Dude," I said. "I can't surf if the fucking futures are down 311 points," and I made a hasty U-turn, much to his chagrin. His Blackberry flew out of his hands and slid down into the netherworld that exists between my passenger seat and the door. "Fuck man," he said. "Chill out!"

"Dude," I said. "Don't you get it? They're gonna drive the market down to the lows again! Citigroup is gonna die! The fucking REITs are gonna be fucking worthless! My mother is gonna be living in my fucking basement and there's gonna be riots in New York FUCKING City if the fucking terrorists don't blow it up first! FUCK DEVILDOG!"

"Dude.... what???" he said, looking scared. "What the fuck is a "Devildog?"

Perspective washed over me now that I had released my fears. I looked over at him. He seemed so innocent and somewhat naive. "Ah, nothing... don't worry. Look, the Great Depression may come, but the winds will still blow, waves will still break. I'll surf with you tomorrow morning. It's supposed to me nice and clean."

In a span of 10 seconds, I went from "the world is ending" to "the waves will still break" and I understood, briefly, why I'm a daytrader.

For the next few minutes, we drove in silence. I dropped him off and stopped for a coffee in town. I ran the 20 feet from my car to the entrance of the coffee shop, arm up to brace myself against the wind (again very 1930s, no?). The cafe door slammed behind me and it was like I had entered a new world.

The store was overly bright, peaceful, and quiet. The dulcet tones of an instrumental version of "Morning Has Broken" streamed out from behind a speaker camouflaged to look like a Santa Claus. I walked over to the "coffee station" and studied the 6 pots of coffee in front of me, each with a different colored handle.

"Are these all the same?" I asked the man behind the counter. "No, my friend" he said, and pointed to what looked like a "coffee chart" that was in a stand up frame next to the pots.

The hopeful music coupled with the 6 flavors of coffee made me feel like this place was sure to go out of business sooner, rather than later. Still, I paid over $8 for two coffees and a hunk of blueberry crumb cake... so perhaps they'll make it after all.

I got home and crept upstairs. My daughter was still asleep. It's her fourth birthday. Her foot was sticking out of the bottom of her comforter and I kissed it. She woke up.

"Daddy!" she said, beaming. "Happy Birthday, sweetness!" I said, beaming now too.

She stood in the middle of her mattress, chin up and shoulders back to make herself appear "super-tall." "See how big I am now, Daddy?" she asked. "I'm four!"

Judy stumbled into the room, wrapped in a blanket, squinting. "What are you doing home?"

Forgetting about the Dow for a moment and taking a glance at my daughter who was now jumping up and down on her bed I said, "I wanted to wish 'Chela' a Happy Birthday before she went to school."