As I sat down too early this morning and poured myself a crisp bowl of Golden Grahams, I watched SportCenter's bio on a young aspiring pro fisherman. Sure the jury is out as to whether fishing is considered a sport, but this young gentleman's story was so interesting it left my cereal go to mush. Despite being born with no arms (one mid-sized stump) and no legs he was able to bait his own hooks (that's a little closer then I'd ever want to get my mouth to a leech unless I'm on Fear Factor), cast a line, and reel in the fish. No extra gadgets, no prosthetics, no help, just a regular rod and reel much like the ones I manage to get the line tangled up whenever I attempt to catch a few sunnies and walleyes. Amazing.
At the other end of the spectrum we have my beloved Twins. Oh Gardy. What have you done with this team? They play like they just got rivered by a one-outer every night. Shoulders slumped, bats lacking Levitra induced firmness, and pitchers getting whinnier then Phil Helmuth after a bad beat. Maybe you should look west, and see a team that's playing with some spunk and not making circular blames of ineptitude (yes Joe, I'm talking about those wonderful A's, just tell me the address once the playoffs start grrrrrrr). Please bring back the team that I used to watch every night without a second thought of changing the channel. Because watching four hits a night is NOT riveting to view. Its a slow death and needs to be corrected somehow, that's what you're paid for.
Wow, fishing and baseball and not a lick of poker (ok maybe an analogy or two, can't help it). But, as it has been all summer I didn't play much this weekend due to a trip to the cabin. Ah, the sounds of loons, crackling of a late night bonfire, and Little Drizz screaming his head off in the back seat all the way up and back.
As Meat Loaf sang, two out of three ain't bad.
This weekend was quarter casino night at the cabin. The Pathfinder staff spreads out a casino consisting of several blackjack tables, some varient form of craps, a wheel of mis-fortune, a roulette table, and of course live horse racing!! The horse racing was with dice, wooden equine figurines, and people carrying horse a certain amount of spaces equal to three dice being rolled. I attempted to jockey more then once but was told after my first race (which I got startled at the gate and moved only one square) that the job was better handled by humans with tits. I didn't complain, much, they were much more attractive on the oak saddles. With my jockeying career down in flames, E managed to pull off 2 out of 3 wins against the female racing competition and proved that a big rack isn't everything (unless you're playing poker right Maigrey?). I played some blackjack while doing shots of Windsor Canadian with a Newcastle chaser. With the liquid courage and a steady stream of profit thanks to E's perfect blackjack play (or maybe it was because the dealer who was handing out the shots made sure he never started with 17 or more) I managed to piss away the profits at the wheel of misfortune and roulette. But, with a late night rally and the betting limit eased up to a $1.00 per bet (not to mention 2 to 1 odds on black/red, even/odd, and 1 to 18/19 to 36) I walked away with a fist full of silver and a $5.00 profit!
Unfortunately, I got so caught up in the euphoria of winning that I had done 30 hours of drinking in 3 hours. Not gOOt for this lightweight. I can space out my drinks and be fine but slamming shots and not slowing down did not help when the beautiful, clear night started spinning like a tilt-a-whirl ride. I yakked. Thankfully E was there to usher my drunk ass back to the cabin to pass out next to the wife. I must have passed out quietly and didn't attempt any drunkin pokin because she wasn't pissed at me the next morning! Score! We took Little Drizz up to the pool and I was able to soak my alchie head in the cool waters while he threw foam baseballs at me.
After drinking half of Lake Superior yesterday, the drill sarge... I mean loving wife decided we should do some yard work before it got dark after getting home. Great idea hon! Sigh. It wasn't that bad, my headache was sweated away from tearing up the mutilated timbers that outlined the old garden and fire pits and hauling out the old sink and cabinet from the bathroom. Next up is building Little Drizz's swing set for his birthday coming this week (I will not be participating in the "building part", read my 100 Things About the Author list), but I will haul the timbers and play Mr. Mom.
Full schedule this week: Our 5th wedding anniversary, Little Drizz's birthday, and my friend Bobby's bachelor party at Izaty's. Yeah that's what I need, another excuse to drink heavily. At least there will be some good golf, good friends, and most likely me running a poker tournament.
Thanks for dropping by, now go to Mean Gene's Barstoolsports site for this awesome article by another writer on their staff. I laughed hard as this was me four years ago. Thanks Stacie for forwarding this to me ;)