Be Back in Body on Monday

I check raise you two toosie rolls

Edit: Being a former beta tester in MMORPG's, wish I would have hung around to have Waffles pay me off for a World of Warcraft beta key



And say BRETT FARVE or TIFFANY MICHELE'S BREASTS ONE MORE TIME AND...

Edit to the edit: Why I love my wife part 47....

Wife: How much Captain Morgan do you have at home?

Me: There's two full handles (for the drinking inept that's 1.75 liters a piece)

Wife: Oh, well the one at the trailer is only half full so you might want to take the kids and get another handle at Costco

Me: Should I pick up a pallet of Diet Coke and a few bushels of lime to go with it?

Wife: No, go to Cub Foods for the Coke and lime since there's a coupon at home

Your Wii Fit Age Is...

I enjoy gambling.

I enjoy drinking (too much if the situation means no kids, and no consequences beyond kissing the floor for cold spots due to a hangover).

I enjoy the rush at work being under a deadline, or necessary project.

I enjoy porn like every married suburban dad who manages to see exactly one female a day his age except at his usual 9 to 5.

Is there an addiction? Men's Health magazine quiz suggest I won't cheat on my wife and not a thrill seeker, yet I'm supposed to avoid Vegas? What could possibly happen there? End up in a wheelchair and black out a couple of miles from my hotel room after drinking too much?

Stupid internets.

This weekend is set for the guys, cards, booze, and golf. No 4:30am wake up calls. No spousal support to tell me that I'm a terrible driver at every stop light for five miles straight. Just eight guys wanting to smoke a few cigars around a bonfire while imbibing upon ice cold drinks and tales of the days before our wives shot human beings out of their vaginas.

Am I selfish for wanting these types of weekends? Am I selfish for wanting sex more times a month then Dane Cook actually cracks a joke worth laughing to? Is it escapism? No, I enjoy the company of my wife, love all of her, despite her obliviousness to my needs (except one, she's awesome about knowing how I enjoy seeing ya'll). My kids I would die for then come back again to protect them from ever learning how to play Pot Limit Omaha.

But there's an itch. An itch that only gets scratched by letting go. Blogger trips scratch this itch better a $250 an hour erotic personal massager with a happy ending. The locales I've been to may seem day-to-day for some, but for a guy in the suburbs that's locked away from life being created on the streets or near a lesbian bar daily, the trips become memories to be recalled for years to come (at least whatever brain cells survive the alcoholic Normandy invasion).

Maybe some day I'll be able to write about perfect balance between the action seeker and dad-of-the-year. For now there's life to be played out wherever my size 13s take me. A departure gate, a bar in a different state, a bedroom with plastic food toys and smell of a needed diaper change, an office with pictures lining the walls of persons close to me, a back porch with a sweating beer in hand outlooking the unfinished backyard.

For now, there's smirk of happiness, mixed with the itch of needing more. Balance could already be here and I don't even realize it.

Comic-Con: Come Embarrass the Kids For Years!

Work > Me

I give you these pics from Yahoo's gallery of Comic-Con...

The first picture in this row, ignore the plastic face yet nicely curved mother (ok I looked twice). And check out the poor guy ducking under his mother's wing. New form of child abuse when its not Halloween?

The Wolverine dude isn't bad. (In a non-homosexual way, not there's anything wrong with that)

Chick or dick on the right of this pic?

You make the call. Hot or not

Tao of Borgata

My mind has been filled to the brim with domestic-like issues, avoiding poker like the plague, and side-stepping all the mouth-breathers at the Anoka county fair yesterday.

Note to self: Humidity + tired two year old + sweaty bikers + prison tats = Time to go home before getting hung by your colon

Before Kyra managed to start a fight in the grandstands while awaiting my brother's enterance to the Demo Derby, I took some level 14 evasive actions and brought my daughter home or could have faced the (rightfully) pissed off biker trio who were trying to enjoy some warm Schmidt Light and were on the receiving end of a size 10 child size sandles tap dancing their Harley bandanas for five minutes.

Tao of Poker, you've been there, you have seen Pauly's five year giveaway, and even though he's a die-hard Yankees fan (everyone has faults) there's no one better to bring our favorite game to life. Thanks for the sweat, blood, and stripper poles over the years sir.

Running for Air

Wow, could Matt Millen suck any more? Losing draft picks to ineptitude, buttah fingers, and now Iraq? Until the second coming of Eric Hipple, the Nardi brothers will have to settle for the nifty stadium, mack daddy mayor, and overrated wide receiver draft picks.

The Torchlight Run was awesome. The eye-gasm from hot female runners and spoting several faux celebrities made up for the pit bull-chewing-on-my-knee-pain that forced me to drink the samples of Mich Ultra Amber they passed out once those Under Armour workout outfit turned into a pool of sweat.

Among the crowd:

- Large Dog standing on guy's head with props while he clapped.

- Richie Cunningham if he worked out with Barry Bonds' trainer

- Rollergirl from Boogie Nights wearing "New York" across her tight shorts. After viewing the ripples of her thighs I no longer felt the need to split the lower burroughs and went back to gasping for air

- Female George Clinton whom the wife acutely pointed out her jean shorts were getting lost up her spacious ass but the rainbow hair coloring and feather had some appeal

- Che Guvera oddly wearing a Radisson front desk uniform and large Ray-Bans. Attempted to topple the Aquafina booth following the race and failed when the workers fought back with ice cubes and Norwegian swear words

The race from 14th down to St. Anthony's Main rocked for the views of downtown Minneapolis and crossing the Mississippi, but the cluster-fuck of the free snacks, pizza (which was fairly good), and near-beer in a small side park with 5,000+ sweaty runners waiting in a line better viewed as an L.A. traffic jam, needs improvement.

I'm posting the Montgomery Flea Market rap for the simple fact I can't get it out of my head this morning. Riverchasers tonight if the kiddies cooperate. See you there. Its just like, its just like, A MINI MALL!

Fun Run In the Moonlight

Why is it easier to wallow in misery then bask in the sun while putting words into sentences? Writing comes more fluently, 50 cent words dancing within rants about mouth-breathing Arby’s employees who choose to neglect their GED studies while inserting horseradish sauce into the paper to-go bag instead of the requested packets of tangy Arby’s sauce goo that hits my Beef n’ Cheddar like a perfectly placed penis during sex.

What the penis goes into is up to you, I don’t judge anyone. Yet mind the mint level and it shouldn’t burn a week afterwards with a motorcross track of bumps suddenly appearing. Might want to get that looked at.

Watching the final tables during the Sunday Million at Stars over the past month or so has really changed my perception on tournament play. Every player who makes that final table got lucky. Period. View all the CardRunners videos, read Harrington in English, German, Japanese, and Sanskrit, go to a WPT Boot Camp, and it still comes down to cards falling your way. K3o versus Q6s all in pre-flop? Yep, biggest pot of the tournament that awarded $207,000 to first with three tables left not a freeroll. I’m sure the poker geniuses will spout about some level 11 play, pot odds, and their VPIP ratio divided by how many bong hits he took in the last hour. Granted the players who regularly make the cash, make it deep are doing something right by maximizing their wins, but if you don’t get those AA vs AQ all-in preflop for a 1st place sized stack type suckouts (which a well-known, and playing very well internet pro lost with in the final two tables) you’re not going to win.

Still love covering the tourneys though; it really does give you a different perspective on the game which I’ll try once the current gorgeous Minnesota summer weather fades back into the Hades of a Minnesotan winter. Muy thanks to Otis for the opportunity, I sincerely hope that I’m not tarnishing his good name with those write ups.

Tonight I’ll be doing this. The Torchlight Run and adjoining Aquatennial parade is a great jog through the streets of Minneapolis. And I do mean jog as my bad wheel is limited to a tight knee brace with a fistful of Advil after signing up for this several months before the old-man disease pop up while legging out a triple. On the softball field you perverts. I will restrain myself from kicking the first guy I see wearing yellow spandex shorts in the junk, but it may take a few pre-run pints from Gluek’s to do so. Seriously, why do these guys think this is “sexy” or even comfortable, you fail at life if you are a male looking at a mirror and slipping on the skin tight yellow M&M shorts and think “should I hang it to the left or right today for the ladies today?”, then proceed to take a bath an Axe body wash with a spritz of Drakkar Noir.

Females are more then welcome to do wear such things, except the Drakkar Noir. I insist.

Tomorrow expect me to drop in on Riverchasers since this lack of poker playing is building up like gas from eating a pound of bacon with cheesy hash browns at the Waffle House.

It’s good to be happy again.

Vegas Plus One

Plans are being made to attend Vegas in December.

The plan will most likely include the wife since appearently someone asked that she attends...

Who would like to own up to this idea?

Edit: If you're wondering where I am this afternoon ala Twitter-tastic updates, I'll be near this truck.

I Want An "I Win" Button Too

Someone send a note to DP to keep his lacey baby blue thong out of public view or face a fine.

The "duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" sports news section, Danica goes off on someone (why couldn't there be some Axe body spray moment with those racing uniforms being turned into ripped linen), and Greg Norman chokes. Throw in the Vikes lose in the Super Bowl, T.O. gets in trouble, and ESPN spends half of Sportscenter sucking the cock of whatever professional Boston sports team is currently playing and you've got weekend highlight film of sport cliches.

In other news, I continue to feel like this kid everytime I watch my stack go to someone playing 668J all-in preflop during a PL/NLO8 cash game. At least the games are still good to have this sort of level 15 play going on.

Kimbo Having Fun?

HIGHLY NSFW!

I don't follow MMA much but of course have heard of Kimbo Slice...

Could someone who's not at work, not puttering around with the kiddies tell me if Kimbo is in the start of this wonderful documentary of bathroom blow jobs?

Link here.

Changing From Nyquil to Peppermint Lotion

I can have posts from 2004? If I'd found myself writing the below dreck now, there would be a paddleboard in hand to firmly knock some sense into the left side of my face.

Seven are supposed to be lucky, right? You get three 7s on a slot machine and you've won a jackpot! After 3 seventh place finishes in 3 SnGs last night had me on tilt. KK in EP, 4xBB raise, re-raised all in by.... AJo (Ace hits the turn). Sigh. JJ in LP, push all in to get called by.... 78s, flush flops. Sigh. QJo and a board of Q - J - 6 rainbow. Bet, get raised, I push, he flips over J6o YEAH! But a 6 hit the turn. Sigh.

Bad night and I didn't help things by pushing with pocket 8s from EP early in another SnG. I think the advice about playing when you feel like shit should be taken more literaly. I've been snapping at the wife, she snaps back, I take more Nyquil, tilt away some money, no one wins. Tonight I'll be resting and no poker. Hopefully I'll refreshed enough to hit the tables a little bit tomorrow.

One thing jumped out as I went down ghey blog memory road, lots of "fighting, snapping at wife" comments. This typing thing was/is/will be my public clinic therapy. Except without the chlamyida and gonorrhea soup on the seats while waiting for your number to be called two hours later. While the effects of the accident have almost vanished, so has the broken glass shards me and wife used to waddle around in at home. Next time I decide to be on the receiving end of blunt force trauma, I'll phone ahead to the spouse and let her know her Webble has returned and to jump on and enjoy the ride.

Seriously, would you let your husband fly off to Chicago for a weekend of Debbie Gibson wake-up calls and downing a 12 pack of beers overlooking Wrigley Stadium while surrounded by hotties? Sure the day to day stuff isn't exciting as I spent two hours yesterday pleading with the two tax deductions to kindly allow me to retain whatever is left of my hearing by not crying loud enough to drown out even Warthog's nightly mating calls.

I may not be lucky at cards or at avoiding large falling objects, but I found a keeper at home.

Tampering? We Stop at Sex and Ticket Scandals Up Here!

Say it ain't so.

MILWAUKEE (AP)—The Green Bay Packers have filed tampering charges against the Minnesota Vikings alleging the team made inappropriate contact with Brett Favre, a person familiar with the Packers’ complaint told The Associated Press Wednesday night.

The person, who requested anonymity because of the sensitivity of the subject, said Packers officials have expressed their belief that interest from the Vikings was driving Favre’s sudden change of heart about playing football in 2008.

“They feel like Favre had something (in place), and that’s why he was so anxious to get his release all of a sudden,” the person said.

The tampering charges were first reported by Foxsports.com earlier Wednesday.... (continued with link).

Question remains... will we see The Wife move her allegiance to the much sexier Purple and Gold should he get his release? But, the thought of Farve on the Vikes makes me think of The Rooster downing that glass of steak condiment after a drunken day at Wrigley. Gross.

Like A Knife Thru Cheese

Doctor's visit put a little scare into my day, but has turned out ok. I thought I had done a little ACL damage a few months ago but still played regularly despite limping all seven innings like a passive fish in a cash game.

No damage. Take some Advil and call me in two weeks. Rung better then words like "surgery" and "scope".

On second thought I don't know if I'll write up the rest of the weekend in Chicago. Time plus the inability to snag the words I want to describe things like having a Chicago Pan Pizza at the lesbian bar that hit every good feeling nerve while soaking up about two gallons of beer, might just have to stay inside my small mind.

Gentile Summit 2008: Prelude

Memories are made from the unusual, and formed from events within. Being blessed with an understanding wife and friends from the across the different climates, I’ve picked up some memories (fuzzy perhaps) that will be folklore for my own mind later in life while sitting on a porch with a beer in hand and looking out at the ninth hole that has a slight dogleg to the left and bunkers protecting the cloverleaf shaped green.

It amazes me how people with such different backgrounds and lives can gather for 48-72 hours and produce memories that will stick for me as I put my daddy polo shirt back on and resume working within the confined walls of security. Starting out with Chadarama along I-94 heading towards picking up StB in the rat trap maze of detours in downtown Milwaukee, there was mass construction and rain that only delayed my first shouts of PAI GOW! The Potawatomi casino lies in the heart of Milwaukee and gave the first memories of the weekend. A straight-shooting Midwest waitress with several years on her telling me to take the nipple off my last Miller Lite of the night before she takes it away while hitting up the $3/$6 table started the weekend off right.

Poker was reason why this blog was given life and live poker didn’t disappoint with distinct personalities around the table which is why I still love to play this game. The calling station old guy, who had to ask with a voice box tone and assistant to Dr. Frankenstein looks if the action was on him with every street, needed to have the board to read to him if he didn’t have the nuts. The playa with $600 in whites and sideways straight brimmed hat, who proclaimed he was playing for 24 hours straight (this of course prompted me to ask for $1,000 in checks, but I fought the urge to whip out my swinging dick). The aggressive Asian who’s perfectly aligned 40 chip towers were built for superiority and didn’t appreciate half-awake half-deaf poker bloggers calling him down while he showed second pair and losing to a slightly higher pair. The gregarious suit on my left that had a different story for everything, including being a world-class athlete back in 1973 that possibly nailed every upper-crust lady that floated in from the piers of Lake Minnetonka towards the shoreline restaurant he worked at.

After a few hours of puttering around with cards it was time to crash for the evening and gear up for the bulk of the weekend in the Windy City…. (to be continued)

The Worm Returns to Waveland Avenue

But can he breakdance? (image from ESPN.com)

Perhaps a proper write-up after I collect my wits again from the liver destroying weekend in Chicago. But, a hearty thank you to the gracious host DP who's home did indeed smell like ass and beer Sunday morning as the gatorade was passed out to sober up for the ride home.

No homo.

Edit: The Rooster does not sleep, he waits with his eyes closed

Travelocity Icon Goes to Day 3 in the WSOP Main Event

Poor Iggy, may be getting his mug in a picture or TV soon.

GOOD LUCK ON DAY 3!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm outta here, heading down I-94 and I-90 to Milwaukee this afternoon for a prelude to Gentile Summit 2008. And I may or may not be wearing too much Drakkar Noir tomorrow :)

When Is Nap Time?

Please remove the doom switch sometime soon m’kay?

Thank you.

Since poker has decided to slap me around like the trout out of water that I am, I have been adverting my attention to the plethora of other things going on (this is fancy talk for I run bad/I suck/I’m whining like a two year old that just can’t catch a break or got taken home from the park before I was ready to go).

Iggy. Main Event. Be sure to follow the wee-one’s size 1/8th footsteps (here and here) towards poker glory and possible sponsorship from Travelocity should he be anointed as the last midget left in the tournament by ESPN. Not as splashy or as hot as the “last woman in the tourney” as Maria Ho last year (but loved the rail pic from Wicked Chops this year, YAO!) but should he get railbirds like that I'm sure Wicked Chops will be happy to supply a few photos of the top of his head.

Gentile Summit is a mere 36 hours away from a drive down I-94 and I-90 towards Milwaukee to meet up with with StB at Potawatomi casino for a night cap of drinks and donkey poker before moving onto a sober weekend of watching Days of Our Lives and Golden Girls re-runs while playing Bridge and sipping on prune juice with more imaginary internet friends.

Three weeks after that is my annual guys weekend at the trailer/cabin for more late discussions of raising gas prices and possible war in Iran along with a few 18th century literary dissections over tea and crumpets. Fun.

Plus my boy’s first T-ball game next week, and since I’m selfish this is what I’m looking forward to the most. Prepare for cuteness and pictures.

Edit: Just checked since I use Yahoo... Google seems to have issues with this site as well. Who gave them the right to play internet police?

Edit to the Edit: Why the big labeling of "Professional Poker Player" in this sex ring bust story from CBS13? And no mentions of his inability to play pocket 8s in middle position while facing a raise?

Building Up After Crumbling Down

Ten-Eight versus Pocket Kings.

In several years of playing online poker not too many “beats” stand out. Granted before the UIGEA knocked a great deal of my online bankroll off-line, I would be found playing six tables of cash and tournament games at any given time so the beats went through my system like an undercooked burger on McDonald’s. Quick and a little too easy.

Was the above hand my shot to be at the Amazon Room right now, un-bagging my chips and getting ready for Day 2A? Or was it a sign to buckle down and start reading about poker again in hopes that the next time I would have the chips to absorb such a beat and continue on the quest towards a WSOP Main Event seat.

Instead I’m home watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, drinking some Lipton Ice Tea before tucking in the boy with a nighttime story. If there’s a next time, will the Bodog Blogger Tournament shine on me as it did through a couple of late finishes? I guess that’s the whole reason why we continue on after those bad beats, the chance to play again, and hope the odds swing in your favor the next time you play.

Lazy Fireworks

Sunday Million write up in the books.

I'm enjoy a little .25/.50 PLO after destroying a bacon omelet with enough fatty content to slow down an Olympic athlete's blood flow.

Even though "holiday" means time off work, it does not mean time to lounge around in boxer shorts watching 3.5 episodes of Sportscenter while tooling the LAG in the four seat and letting her spew chips with the same intensity of the last hooker on the Amazon room floor without a sorry sap to do the walk of shame back up to their rooms to console their tired souls with a well rehearsed blow job.

Clean the house, clean the trailer, clean ass, all duties that are fine to perform to make the family wheel run but its time-outs like these that make my vacation hours earned at work worth every TPS report I pour through.

Gentile Summit in three days. Hope my right hook will still put the host to shame for losing to a waif like me.

Somebody Needs a New Hobby

This is news? I cry everytime my Aces get cracked and when Lindsay Lohan is not on TMZ, do I get a feature in the local rag?

An open letter to Brett Farve:

Brett,

I would most welcome your return for one game to the National Football League. Your intensity for the game would warm the coals of competition between our two clubs. Remember playing Tecmo-Bowl as a kid and how Lawrence Taylor just flew by the offensive lineman like they just ate a twenty pound bowl of General Tso's chicken with fried rice and a dozen cream cheese wontons?

That's me.

Re-think this "return" before you end up babbling about getting hit by a purple bus while doing easy sudoku puzzles hopped up on vicodin and PBR on the back porch of your home.

Sincerely,
*Jared Allen

**In related news John Madden is currently at home wacking off to Farve's appearent return while spamming the refresh button of ESPN.com in hopes that half of his in-game material will return to play.

Cabin life for me this weekend, maybe a little live poker to write home about. Gentile summit, 8 days, manliness about to run wild on Chicago and aspiring tennis pro DP will be there too. Peace.



* He should write this letter

** Would he use regular crisco or butter flavored

The Killer and Carew

Last night was part parking lot carnival, part day care center during lunch time. The mall in front the Metrodome was transformed into a walkway of overpriced beers and fried foods, along with the only place on earth where its socially acceptable to wear your favorite team logo on more then three items of clothing (unfortunately no Twins logo’d G-strings were spoted).

How could such a crowd afford these gatherings on a regular basis? The beers were $6.50, a Mike’s Hard Lemonade for the wife was $7.75 (ouch), bottle of Sprite for the kids set us back four bucks. Throw in some mini-donuts and tepid cheese curds (if it doesn’t squeak, it ain’t real) and we blew thirty bucks before even stepping into upside down vanilla frosting topped bundt cake stadium.

While watching the Tiggers get demolished by the resurgent Twinkies, there was a re-found love of watching live major league baseball. There’s no description about a 92 mph heater smacking the leather bound pillow of a catcher’s mitt after the overpaid free agent third baseman whiffed like he just got denied at the hotel bar after the game by the words “you don’t make as much as him” pointing to his Cy Young award winning teammate with the Cheshire Cat sized smile.

Even if the team wasn’t winning or putting out a product that stank of two week old Japanese steakhouse sauce that was left out, a love for the game I used to play was renewed and new found respect for guys like Aaron Gleeman who cover this sport with the colors it deserves.

I may be a fluffer's assistant on the rung of writers and bloggers alike, but that won't stop a few bad metaphors from appearing here. Thanks for the straight shooting Pauly, you're hitting a new high (perhaps a bad pun) with the WSOP coverage this year and getting stronger in the late innings.

Artificial Baseball

After seeing Scotty on the front page of Yahoo this morning, how far behind could the World Poker Tour be in sewing up a gig with Fox and/or NBC? Poker is getting to be mainstream and really not that different from your garden variety game show, so what's to say we couldn't have Helmuth ranting over that Queen-Nine offsuit after Agent Gibbs solves another mysterious death involving two Marines and a midnight shopper at Wal-Mart?

Mart was always the first to the ballpark, eager to play or chat with any person within a earshot. Granted with his 60-ish age the ball didn't travel as far off the bat nor did his legs allow for an infield single any longer, but the man's heart for coming out and playing hard finally overcame the silent jokes. Seeing him on the ground last night without any muscle coordination, just a faint breath after hitting the hard-packed infield head first left a little void. And as the ambulance took him to North Memorial with his son packing up the gear left behind, perhaps never to be used again, I'm hoping there will be stories of wooden bats and everyone running out ground balls next Monday.

Tonight's Twins vs. Tiggers tilt will be attended by yours truly, along with my son for his first taste of major league ball in artificial air. Viewing a Twins game in the Metrodome seems like watching roller hockey outdoors, but to many this is the way its always been so watching a ball hit a speaker and come back into play doesn't seem unnatural to fans of the blue and red. The new ballpark can't get here soon enough for some great early May games in the snow!