Another shorty post because I have some manly cleaning to do this morning (as penance for rocking Phoenixville the past few days).
There are no visable bruises so I can exclude mechanical bull riding with strippers, but my thighs are killing me this morning:
A. I went strolling too far looking for the WAWA after the lights came on the Bash
B. I got lucky, and whoever it was is counting down the days of my return to feel the pure awesomeness of my three inch love cannon.
C. My wife started the "hobbling" technique last shown by Kathy Bates in Misery but decided she needed someone to handle the kids when she goes to a garage sale on Thursday.
D. Someone took advantage of a rather tipsy Drizz and made me dance.
If it was D, I apologize for any blindness I may have caused as this white boy just doesn't care about the decency of others having to watch my lanky body go into motions that should only be seen in the privacy of my shower while rocking out to Cher once he gets a few car bombs and shots inside him.
I'll pay you all a dollar for the bad beat in December.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Bashed
Wanna know who won the Pub Olympics?
Blog post may or may not come tomorrow. Memory hazy, liver fuzzy, missing friends already.
Blog post may or may not come tomorrow. Memory hazy, liver fuzzy, missing friends already.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Powerball: The Road to Financial Freedom
Yes, these people steal air from rest of us (click for article). Let's hope the forward thinking lottery players from Minnesota are able to log into PokerStars or Full Tilt if Barney Frank's bill get passed into law.
An example of the awesomeness from the article while explaining why he bought a powerball ticket:
Keith McMillan also bought a ticket.
"I don't have the money to spare," he said.
"That's why I bought the Powerball."
That's P-o-k-e-r-S-t-a-r-s-.-c-o-m, use one of a million bonus codes out there please.
--
Lions fans managed to only burn down one-third of the part of Detroit that isn't all ready charred and/or crumbling after learning their anti-christ GM/president has been given the boot.
Better job in office? Bush or Millen? That question might make your head explode, make sure your morning triple-latte half-calf with Bailey's and whip cream is fully consumed.
--
Bash.
I think its time for Wilson Phillps don't you?
hOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOld on for one mooooooooooooooooooore day. Beers will come my waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
(make sure you hit repeat to lodge this wonderful ballad firmly in your skull)
Thank me tomorrow.
An example of the awesomeness from the article while explaining why he bought a powerball ticket:
Keith McMillan also bought a ticket.
"I don't have the money to spare," he said.
"That's why I bought the Powerball."
That's P-o-k-e-r-S-t-a-r-s-.-c-o-m, use one of a million bonus codes out there please.
--
Lions fans managed to only burn down one-third of the part of Detroit that isn't all ready charred and/or crumbling after learning their anti-christ GM/president has been given the boot.
Better job in office? Bush or Millen? That question might make your head explode, make sure your morning triple-latte half-calf with Bailey's and whip cream is fully consumed.
--
Bash.
I think its time for Wilson Phillps don't you?
hOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOld on for one mooooooooooooooooooore day. Beers will come my waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
(make sure you hit repeat to lodge this wonderful ballad firmly in your skull)
Thank me tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
There Will Be Blood
From the land of Captain Obvious:
Clay Aiken: “I’m Gay”
This is as shocking as Hugh Hefner proclaiming he had sex this week, or that I have not.
--
The battle lines have been drawn.
The competition more fierce then a fart after finishing off your third plate at Don Pablos (or On the Border).
It’s the Pub Olympics, drunks representing two countries and several states are gathering at the Tyler James Pub in Phoenixville, PA to provide the mightier liver rules the day.
Team AlCantHang:
BadBlood
Carson
Donkaa
Drizz
Evy
Joaquin
Landow
Riggstad
VinNay
Team Otis:
Astin
BamBam
BigMike
BobbyBracelet
CK
DrChako
Falstaff
Pebbles
Spaceman
Despite the Terminator missing a limb due to a training accident while practicing for the eraser shuttle run at night after school, the defeat for Team Otis shall be swift as a las vegas hooker with the McDonald's french fries sized leg width snatching your wallet.
Hope to see you all there.
And no I won't be on my best behavior, bring prop bet money, jokes, and smiles. Be heavy with the smiles.
Two days.
Clay Aiken: “I’m Gay”
This is as shocking as Hugh Hefner proclaiming he had sex this week, or that I have not.
--
The battle lines have been drawn.
The competition more fierce then a fart after finishing off your third plate at Don Pablos (or On the Border).
It’s the Pub Olympics, drunks representing two countries and several states are gathering at the Tyler James Pub in Phoenixville, PA to provide the mightier liver rules the day.
Team AlCantHang:
BadBlood
Carson
Donkaa
Drizz
Evy
Joaquin
Landow
Riggstad
VinNay
Team Otis:
Astin
BamBam
BigMike
BobbyBracelet
CK
DrChako
Falstaff
Pebbles
Spaceman
Despite the Terminator missing a limb due to a training accident while practicing for the eraser shuttle run at night after school, the defeat for Team Otis shall be swift as a las vegas hooker with the McDonald's french fries sized leg width snatching your wallet.
Hope to see you all there.
And no I won't be on my best behavior, bring prop bet money, jokes, and smiles. Be heavy with the smiles.
Two days.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Reuniting the Lost 90s
If you were looking for some gloating about the recent Vikings victory, you won’t find it beneath these pages. Sure Shiancoe applied enough Gorilla Glue to his battling gloves to turn a nicely timed pattern into a touchdown. The defense was standard and standard meaning top five in the league. They’re expected to dominate the running game and prevent the big plays deep (which they didn’t in the first two tilts).
Calling a building block game onto the rest of the season, while they are no where near Cowboy-land at this time as a complete team (stop jerking off to nude Flozell Adams pictures StB and Joaquin), look for the Vikes to grind out an NFC North championship (at least) should the cheeseheads stumble over the left-over turpentine cans left by the tailgaters outside Lambeau. They should be thankful Rogers isn’t blossoming into Ryan Leaf, but is looking solid at quarterback.
Oktoberfest at my place? Uns partei lassen! My apologies to the German readers if I just called everyone a jelly doughnut or something as my 2-year teachings of the language have been drowned in more bier then one should consume while celebrating this fall party over the years and nor will the pictures from the party be nearly as sexy as DP’s dirndl of the day
I was only expecting a few close friends to drop by, and well everyone we invited is attending.
That’s a lot of schnitzel yo.
Facebook. Wow. Got a blast from the past as a former girlfriend from college found me (Oktoberfest? Stacie, please drop by bring the hubby and the little ones!), then high school friends, now an invite to a 15th high school graduation party? I’d be the first to tell you that my high school years were spent ducking for cover in my undersized locker from life and wallowing in self-pity versus being a social butterfly. There was no effort, just a poorly dressed string-bean shell that could wildly throw a baseball, taking in the glare from the hallway floors looking to avoid interaction like John Madden avoids being coherent during a non-Farve moment of Sunday Night Football.
Curious, but not so much to shell out the couple of bucks to see people I barely have a passing memory about as the only memories I took away from Osseo High School were painful and have been beaten down so far that I doubt I could name a teacher without cracking open a yearbook. The friends I took away from that place are still friends today, the ones who offered a hand out of the adolescent mixing bowl stirred with drizzled depression and chopped-up self-worth.
The pictures from Facebook did give me a laugh or three seeing some of my teammates from baseball and hockey teams, girls that were (and probably still are) Scarlett Johnansson-like out of my league.
Calling a building block game onto the rest of the season, while they are no where near Cowboy-land at this time as a complete team (stop jerking off to nude Flozell Adams pictures StB and Joaquin), look for the Vikes to grind out an NFC North championship (at least) should the cheeseheads stumble over the left-over turpentine cans left by the tailgaters outside Lambeau. They should be thankful Rogers isn’t blossoming into Ryan Leaf, but is looking solid at quarterback.
Oktoberfest at my place? Uns partei lassen! My apologies to the German readers if I just called everyone a jelly doughnut or something as my 2-year teachings of the language have been drowned in more bier then one should consume while celebrating this fall party over the years and nor will the pictures from the party be nearly as sexy as DP’s dirndl of the day
I was only expecting a few close friends to drop by, and well everyone we invited is attending.
That’s a lot of schnitzel yo.
Facebook. Wow. Got a blast from the past as a former girlfriend from college found me (Oktoberfest? Stacie, please drop by bring the hubby and the little ones!), then high school friends, now an invite to a 15th high school graduation party? I’d be the first to tell you that my high school years were spent ducking for cover in my undersized locker from life and wallowing in self-pity versus being a social butterfly. There was no effort, just a poorly dressed string-bean shell that could wildly throw a baseball, taking in the glare from the hallway floors looking to avoid interaction like John Madden avoids being coherent during a non-Farve moment of Sunday Night Football.
Curious, but not so much to shell out the couple of bucks to see people I barely have a passing memory about as the only memories I took away from Osseo High School were painful and have been beaten down so far that I doubt I could name a teacher without cracking open a yearbook. The friends I took away from that place are still friends today, the ones who offered a hand out of the adolescent mixing bowl stirred with drizzled depression and chopped-up self-worth.
The pictures from Facebook did give me a laugh or three seeing some of my teammates from baseball and hockey teams, girls that were (and probably still are) Scarlett Johnansson-like out of my league.
Those folks will have something to chat about, something to remiss, but my reunion -- that’s this weekend in Pennsylvania, Oktoberfest at my place, and Vegas in December.
The group who got to meet the real me, my friends that laughed at me for drafting Peyton in the first round this year (YOU SUCK MANNING!!), and read my bared soul here on a semi-daily basis.
Those are the ones I’m continually counting off days until our next beer together.
And those days are now down to the number drei.
The group who got to meet the real me, my friends that laughed at me for drafting Peyton in the first round this year (YOU SUCK MANNING!!), and read my bared soul here on a semi-daily basis.
Those are the ones I’m continually counting off days until our next beer together.
And those days are now down to the number drei.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Day After
Awakening at a familiar hour wasn’t tiring (despite the 4:30am flashing on the alarm clock).
Going through the morning checklist wasn’t painful.
Sitting at this desk isn’t different.
But, for ten straight days (and fourteen total) I got to be a different person. For that break in reality, I am graceful. Surely, the long hours, two hour naps in-between shifts will catch to up me while banging out some TPS report mid-week, but for now the adrenaline is flowing like hitting up that Excedrin/Cap’n Coke mix that snapped my eyes open ready to report on the next WCOOP tournament.
While I’m a list/goals type person, there’s a need to break from the looping radio station that’s stuck on playing the latest top-40 in succession.
This gig is exactly what was needed.
Hopefully the PokerStars brass enjoyed the product that several friends gathered from all points of the US (and across the pond like Stephen) to put together.
There were sacrifices made to sit down for several hours a night to report on latest hundred thousandaire with a ROI that would make you laugh (or cry if you’ve never had a big score like myself), all well worth it to regain a wanting to do a little more then fill my 40 hour weekly quota and return home to rinse and repeat day-in day-out, only breaking your corporate mold for your spouse and kids.
I got to think on the fly, be rushed into getting something out there quickly, story-tell and get paid to do it. While the story never gets old of how four years ago I just enjoyed leaving comments on a few poker blogs and was urged to strike up a little internet real estate for myself, never did I think there would be money for advertising.
Nor, did I think I would be asked to blog for pay
And not in a million years did I think I would be taking time off to do this besides my “real” job.
Thanks to Jason, April, Martin, Stephen, F-Train, Jen, Haley, CK, Change100, PokerStars, and especially Otis for the opportunity, I meant it when I said this wasn’t about the money (but damn glad I’m going to have a decent bankroll for Vegas now, PAI-GOW!!!).
Now for another event I’ve been waiting for: The Bash
Pub Olympics and Pennsylvania here I come. Warm up the WAWA for me Al.
Going through the morning checklist wasn’t painful.
Sitting at this desk isn’t different.
But, for ten straight days (and fourteen total) I got to be a different person. For that break in reality, I am graceful. Surely, the long hours, two hour naps in-between shifts will catch to up me while banging out some TPS report mid-week, but for now the adrenaline is flowing like hitting up that Excedrin/Cap’n Coke mix that snapped my eyes open ready to report on the next WCOOP tournament.
While I’m a list/goals type person, there’s a need to break from the looping radio station that’s stuck on playing the latest top-40 in succession.
This gig is exactly what was needed.
Hopefully the PokerStars brass enjoyed the product that several friends gathered from all points of the US (and across the pond like Stephen) to put together.
There were sacrifices made to sit down for several hours a night to report on latest hundred thousandaire with a ROI that would make you laugh (or cry if you’ve never had a big score like myself), all well worth it to regain a wanting to do a little more then fill my 40 hour weekly quota and return home to rinse and repeat day-in day-out, only breaking your corporate mold for your spouse and kids.
I got to think on the fly, be rushed into getting something out there quickly, story-tell and get paid to do it. While the story never gets old of how four years ago I just enjoyed leaving comments on a few poker blogs and was urged to strike up a little internet real estate for myself, never did I think there would be money for advertising.
Nor, did I think I would be asked to blog for pay
And not in a million years did I think I would be taking time off to do this besides my “real” job.
Thanks to Jason, April, Martin, Stephen, F-Train, Jen, Haley, CK, Change100, PokerStars, and especially Otis for the opportunity, I meant it when I said this wasn’t about the money (but damn glad I’m going to have a decent bankroll for Vegas now, PAI-GOW!!!).
Now for another event I’ve been waiting for: The Bash
Pub Olympics and Pennsylvania here I come. Warm up the WAWA for me Al.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
A Worse Beat
Not getting laid for the past month in a half or going to Arby's today a discovering you can't order the 5 for $5.95 deal and are forced to make do with one beef and cheddar with only one packet of Arby sauce.
Bastards, hope they choke on some trans fat fumes.
WCOOP main event tomorrow. The last ride for this band of blogging brothers (and sisters).
Giddyup.
Bastards, hope they choke on some trans fat fumes.
WCOOP main event tomorrow. The last ride for this band of blogging brothers (and sisters).
Giddyup.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Virtual Finish Line
Battle station ready
Eye on the prize
Need to eat more pork products after losing seven pounds
Random overinflated chick, just because
Ready for the ride home
See ya Monday.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Magic Number is at 5
Not for the Twins, they're sucking ass like my other favorite overpaid athletes. CLOSE OUT A GAME FOR ONCE!!!!
Watching “World’s Most Beautiful Beaches” on the travel channel for the fact that I do not have thonged goddesses grinding to the latest club mix on my deck while drunk on syrupy cocktails, and I need a little mindlessness before going back to the battle station downstairs.
But, I did acquire a beer which every sip is to be savored like a fine steak at a Vegas eatery (hmmmm can’t wait for the frites) as the kids are down for their naps and no wife to tell me that a beer in the afternoon is the road to alcoholism, which I’ll hold off those tenacities until the Bash (its tomorrow, right Al?!?!). I suppose 10 more days of waiting will only leave me crying a little inside.
Five more days of the WCOOP, then back to reality of three walls and vapid employee of the month certificates (free cookies rule!!!), back to a “normal” job, back to monotone colors and ledgers without creative edges. No more punny headlines and watching people play for more money then I’ll make in the next 10 years (but at least I get the employee discount!!!!111). No more getting done at 8:30am the next morning wondering if I can manage to put on my boxers in the right direction. No more feeling good about the product we put out there for the readers of the PokerStarsBlog.
There are readers I hope, if not it doesn’t hurt the pride I’ve taken in working with these folks who most of I’ll see next week or in December to rehash the stories and enjoy something more then the stale Wheat Thins and green tea sitting next to my laptops. There’s no competition here, no advancement up the corporate ladder, no sexual harassment that doesn’t get slung back at you ten-fold.
In a couple words: the perfect workplace.
There’s an understanding that this is probably a one-time thing but I’m happy to have done it and have five more nights to enjoy the dessert of this work/vacation meal.
Watching “World’s Most Beautiful Beaches” on the travel channel for the fact that I do not have thonged goddesses grinding to the latest club mix on my deck while drunk on syrupy cocktails, and I need a little mindlessness before going back to the battle station downstairs.
But, I did acquire a beer which every sip is to be savored like a fine steak at a Vegas eatery (hmmmm can’t wait for the frites) as the kids are down for their naps and no wife to tell me that a beer in the afternoon is the road to alcoholism, which I’ll hold off those tenacities until the Bash (its tomorrow, right Al?!?!). I suppose 10 more days of waiting will only leave me crying a little inside.
Five more days of the WCOOP, then back to reality of three walls and vapid employee of the month certificates (free cookies rule!!!), back to a “normal” job, back to monotone colors and ledgers without creative edges. No more punny headlines and watching people play for more money then I’ll make in the next 10 years (but at least I get the employee discount!!!!111). No more getting done at 8:30am the next morning wondering if I can manage to put on my boxers in the right direction. No more feeling good about the product we put out there for the readers of the PokerStarsBlog.
There are readers I hope, if not it doesn’t hurt the pride I’ve taken in working with these folks who most of I’ll see next week or in December to rehash the stories and enjoy something more then the stale Wheat Thins and green tea sitting next to my laptops. There’s no competition here, no advancement up the corporate ladder, no sexual harassment that doesn’t get slung back at you ten-fold.
In a couple words: the perfect workplace.
There’s an understanding that this is probably a one-time thing but I’m happy to have done it and have five more nights to enjoy the dessert of this work/vacation meal.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I Love Jesus, I Want My Damn McGriddle Now!!!
I fell asleep during the Vikes game halfway thru the third quarter, wake up to Viniteri kicking a game-winning field goal while warming up for Event #20 at the WCOOP yesterday afternoon.
What the hell happened? I assume the usual heart break from my beloved Vikes as they manage avoid victory once again while striving for defeat. Well played sir.
Mr. Cutler, that was a fumble. Brass balls on the 2-point conversion however.
Another sleepless weekend in the books, one more and I come out a reborn catholic who spends his day reading from the good book and praising Jesus daily at the local McDonald's where my request for an extra sauage patty was charged yet not received prompting my daughter to take offense in the form of sonic boom-level screaming when we got home Sunday morning after daddy had no sleep since 5am Saturday.
(I haven't left the reservation yet, but I'll be honest that I'm sneering more and more about returning to work next week)
God will smite those McGriddle flipping heathens should similar issues occur next time. I notice the africian-american crew was "working" instead of the usually effecient latino one. Did I mention waiting 10 minutes at the drive thru and having to explain what goes into a "Big Breakfast" to the glassy eyed attendant as she texted her friend that was standing three feet away causing laugher as 5 of the workers stood in a huddle while no one made my damn McGriddle?
Yes, laugh at the guy who could barely spell "Team PokerStars Pro" at 9am. Please go work at BK to flip some Whoppers and those annoyingly crown-shaped chicken nuggets next Saturday, I have a very long night coming up this weekend and might just snap Michael Douglas "Falling Down" style if you forget my hash brown patty and a smile.
A big thanks to those who put up with me this weekend, at home and online. Tonight I'll be blogging up WCOOP Event #22's Mixed O/8 (yea!!!), drop by and enjoy the scoops (you see what I did there? GENIUS!). Sigh.
What the hell happened? I assume the usual heart break from my beloved Vikes as they manage avoid victory once again while striving for defeat. Well played sir.
Mr. Cutler, that was a fumble. Brass balls on the 2-point conversion however.
Another sleepless weekend in the books, one more and I come out a reborn catholic who spends his day reading from the good book and praising Jesus daily at the local McDonald's where my request for an extra sauage patty was charged yet not received prompting my daughter to take offense in the form of sonic boom-level screaming when we got home Sunday morning after daddy had no sleep since 5am Saturday.
(I haven't left the reservation yet, but I'll be honest that I'm sneering more and more about returning to work next week)
God will smite those McGriddle flipping heathens should similar issues occur next time. I notice the africian-american crew was "working" instead of the usually effecient latino one. Did I mention waiting 10 minutes at the drive thru and having to explain what goes into a "Big Breakfast" to the glassy eyed attendant as she texted her friend that was standing three feet away causing laugher as 5 of the workers stood in a huddle while no one made my damn McGriddle?
Yes, laugh at the guy who could barely spell "Team PokerStars Pro" at 9am. Please go work at BK to flip some Whoppers and those annoyingly crown-shaped chicken nuggets next Saturday, I have a very long night coming up this weekend and might just snap Michael Douglas "Falling Down" style if you forget my hash brown patty and a smile.
A big thanks to those who put up with me this weekend, at home and online. Tonight I'll be blogging up WCOOP Event #22's Mixed O/8 (yea!!!), drop by and enjoy the scoops (you see what I did there? GENIUS!). Sigh.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Perpetually Slapped
If anyone has a clue when I'm allowed to actually win at poker again when putting my money in good. Please let me know.
Until then find me at the WCOOP for the next 11 days. Cheers and good night.
Until then find me at the WCOOP for the next 11 days. Cheers and good night.
The Tunnel Is So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades
Tonight is drunken poker night as I’ve just realized that my only days off in the month of September was Labor Day, and the days of The Bash. Poorly played tournament poker will be splashed about, a possible Riverchasers appearance in honor of seeing the people behind the donkey avatars in two weeks.
Work much?
All worth it, not just for the paper dollars that may or may not (read: definitely will) find their ways into the pockets of bloggers who wish to take my money playing poker, darts (Speaker and Chadarama will let you how easy to extract $20 from the pockets of Drizz and Bracelet shooting Cricket, COUGH COUGH), pinball, beer pong, guess the panty of the beer cart chick. No 52 card pickup, learned my lesson during the Christmas party of 81’, snagged a tree-shaped sugar cookie with the hot candy on the top, enjoyed it thoroughly. Just allow me a few refreshments and I’m sure I can also be willed away to help the single mom’s whom have extraordinary abilities to dance on metal (and other) poles while high on Jesus, to earn that advanced business degree in a Pennsylvania community college.
I’m a giver.
Pub Olympics? Bring it.
The days of endless poker bonuses may have past us by (unless you’re late to the party), but I still receive $1.27 a week from rakeback for the 5-6 SnGs I have time to play. Not sure what TastyKakes go for, but I’m willing to wager that $1.27 will net you some chocolaty goodness at the local WAWA!!! when 3:30am rolls around and the beautiful bartendress stops serving water for unknown reasons and you’re in a van with a thousand mile stare wondering if that chick that flashed you three or four times was good looking or extremely hairy when the ugly lights turned on or if the cop picking out a eat n’ go cheesesteak is going to throw you in the drunk tank for that plastic gun stuffed in your pocket.
Odd things are amiss in Pennsyltucky when riding shotgun with AlCantHang. Possible Two-Time All-Lewey all star team? After 25 straight days of work and an extreme need to blow off steam? Check. Friends with like-minded needs and degenerancy? Check. Wisconsin headgear while playing Omahahahaha? Check. Sigh.
15 days. Will you toast with me? Cheers.
Work much?
All worth it, not just for the paper dollars that may or may not (read: definitely will) find their ways into the pockets of bloggers who wish to take my money playing poker, darts (Speaker and Chadarama will let you how easy to extract $20 from the pockets of Drizz and Bracelet shooting Cricket, COUGH COUGH), pinball, beer pong, guess the panty of the beer cart chick. No 52 card pickup, learned my lesson during the Christmas party of 81’, snagged a tree-shaped sugar cookie with the hot candy on the top, enjoyed it thoroughly. Just allow me a few refreshments and I’m sure I can also be willed away to help the single mom’s whom have extraordinary abilities to dance on metal (and other) poles while high on Jesus, to earn that advanced business degree in a Pennsylvania community college.
I’m a giver.
Pub Olympics? Bring it.
The days of endless poker bonuses may have past us by (unless you’re late to the party), but I still receive $1.27 a week from rakeback for the 5-6 SnGs I have time to play. Not sure what TastyKakes go for, but I’m willing to wager that $1.27 will net you some chocolaty goodness at the local WAWA!!! when 3:30am rolls around and the beautiful bartendress stops serving water for unknown reasons and you’re in a van with a thousand mile stare wondering if that chick that flashed you three or four times was good looking or extremely hairy when the ugly lights turned on or if the cop picking out a eat n’ go cheesesteak is going to throw you in the drunk tank for that plastic gun stuffed in your pocket.
Odd things are amiss in Pennsyltucky when riding shotgun with AlCantHang. Possible Two-Time All-Lewey all star team? After 25 straight days of work and an extreme need to blow off steam? Check. Friends with like-minded needs and degenerancy? Check. Wisconsin headgear while playing Omahahahaha? Check. Sigh.
15 days. Will you toast with me? Cheers.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Pinch Hitting With Authority
Still frazzled, not the least bit dazzled by T-Jack’s performance on Monday night. I could rant about buttah fingers Shiancoe or Jackson’s ability to throw a pass at the Lambeau field grass with such authority that the ground hogs in Madison were complaining about the noise. Purple Jesus looked good, but not great for someone who runs like Lawrence Taylor in Tecmo Bowl 87’. Barring injury, look for him to tear up a couple of defenses for 200+, while I have extreme prejudice against the cheeseheads, they have a solid defense and that front four on offense was stellar. Kudos.
Also look for me to be wearing my punishment for pride at the Bash from The Wife. Did anyone else rather her in Viking samba panties? I think a muzzle and leash plus drool cup would be minimum for Waffles to be within 100 yards of her. Actually the Helga hat I had picked out for her will have to go back into storage until the next game :)
Also look for me to be wearing my punishment for pride at the Bash from The Wife. Did anyone else rather her in Viking samba panties? I think a muzzle and leash plus drool cup would be minimum for Waffles to be within 100 yards of her. Actually the Helga hat I had picked out for her will have to go back into storage until the next game :)
SKOL!!
Are you enjoying the WCOOP coverage? Any complaints, praises, rants, suggestions? After coming back to “work” for a 10 hour day, it feels like a day off. Hell, plunking numbers into spreadsheets at my own pace is a little different then scampering for chip counts on 15 different pros while looking at stats for IThinkURdUmB69 all in five minutes during the breaks. Seriously, those are some pressure packed hours which is great for someone who enjoys being kept on his toes.
Are you enjoying the WCOOP coverage? Any complaints, praises, rants, suggestions? After coming back to “work” for a 10 hour day, it feels like a day off. Hell, plunking numbers into spreadsheets at my own pace is a little different then scampering for chip counts on 15 different pros while looking at stats for IThinkURdUmB69 all in five minutes during the breaks. Seriously, those are some pressure packed hours which is great for someone who enjoys being kept on his toes.
As stated before this started, my only hope is that I’m not holding back the team of wordsmiths that Otis has (my confidence level rises every night that I don't erase the posts or spell Isabelle's name wrong).
From playing sports all my life I know what it feels like to be both the bench-riding fourth starter who calls the pitches from the dugout while keeping track of RBIs and pitch placement and the MVP who is expected to perform where other cannot or won’t. I’ve been the Captain, I’ve been the Tennille and should the job performance be marked with an above satisfactory mark with comments about “plays well with others” and “doesn’t spend entire meeting staring at Vice President’s MILF-ish back tattoo and lace thong showing from power dress” after Sunday September 21st, I hope there’s another chance to play with the team again.
If you have never been both the starter and waterboy/girl, you’re letting life drift by. I’ve been guilty of this for the longest time, and jumping into something I’ve never done before without water-wingies has been refreshing. Whether its hitting a ball, solving the cold fission problem, or coming up with the next snappy McDonald’s jingle, there’s something out there for everyone to stretch themselves (thanks Kat).
Now that I’m limber as a Cirque du Soleil contortionist, I’m ready for the next two weeks.
Bring it on.
If you have never been both the starter and waterboy/girl, you’re letting life drift by. I’ve been guilty of this for the longest time, and jumping into something I’ve never done before without water-wingies has been refreshing. Whether its hitting a ball, solving the cold fission problem, or coming up with the next snappy McDonald’s jingle, there’s something out there for everyone to stretch themselves (thanks Kat).
Now that I’m limber as a Cirque du Soleil contortionist, I’m ready for the next two weeks.
Bring it on.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Since We Love to Live Blog...
Since live blogging took over my life for the past weekend, let’s twitter-riffic my past weekend:
09/05/08 – 8:00pm Log on to PokerStars blogging platform fresh as a newborn after some tit-sucking. I’m first up with Event #1, no pressure leadoff after being called up from single “A” ball.
09/06/08 - 12:00am – Wow, midnight came fast and still plugging away. Alcoholism and self-loathing in the distant future.
4:00 am – Bio break, legs won’t function as I crawl to the bathroom and piss like a water fountain into the toilet
5:32 am – Not looking good for golfing as the final six have extremely healthy “M’s” and with several hundred thousand dollars on the line, I doubt they care if I get to go shoot 18 with my father-in-law an hour from now.
6:30 am – Otis is the man, and takes over for my limp (literally) ass as I stumble into my Greg Norman polo shirt and pillow soft khakis to pick up my brother-in-law for our annual foursome with our father-in-law out at Daytona Golf Club (September rates $27 with a cart for 18, awesome deal!!)
7:01am – First tee time and picture perfect morning with the sun coming over some farmland beyond the first green. The dew is a runny nose-like thick but makes it easier to read my horrible putts
9:23 am – After four three-putts but somehow hitting 7 out of 9 greens in regulation with zero sleep I decide something was needed on the turn. I blankly got an M and M cookie instead of a much needed drink.
11:14am - Bullshiting at the bar after the round for a hour or so is the best part of our annual get-together. My brother-in-law manages to chat about my exploit with an engaged chick right before I started dating his daughter for nearly 15 minutes. Thanks, bro remind me to tell a few stories next time.
12:45pm - Arrive at brother-in-law’s house for burgers and brats on the grill after finally getting some wake-up juice in me (Cap’n Coke of course, heavy on the Cap’n), I wake up enough to acknowledge that this swiss/cheddar burger is pretty goddamn tasty and my daughter is proudly wearing a sticker proclaiming her a junior crimefighter which I’m reminded of every two minutes which I steal a hug from her each time.
2:00pm - Hit the bed with the force of a pre-Buster Douglas fight Mike Tyson.
5:30pm – Wake up to take care of the kids as they were nice enough to take a nap with daddy, wife is scrapbooking until 11pm.
8:00pm – Watch Spongebob Squarepants with the boy as we assembled a fort of pillows, comforters, and state fair won stuffed animals for his “sleepover” in the porch.
9:17pm – Prep for tonight’s Event #4 2-7 Triple Draw with the lovely Change100. Thought about a nice Goose Island IPA, took a Lipton ice tea and a box of Triscuits instead
10:00pm – Settle in for the night purchasing Werewolves of London and Goodbye to You for the iPod while logging into PokerStarsBlog.com and the nifty hand replayer
10:25pm - Make first poker blogging prop bet ever on the finish time, Change100 sets it at 3:45PDT, I take the under for $5.
09/07/08 5:45am -- #@$%!#%@#@!, lose $5 when we’re four-handed. Ship it to Change!
6:15am – watch the most bizarre heads-up play I’ve ever seen, the eventual winner takes 15 hands in a row while both still had healthy Ms to the blinds. The other player just rolls over and dies as with no chop in place he wins the whole $24K
6:30am – Finish up with the final hand from Change100 wish her a good night and log off
6:49am – Kids are up, play around with them wondering who’s in my skin right now
10:07am - Feel much better after a two hour nap when the wife kindly feeds them breakfast and wake up for a little Super Mario World with Wyatt
1:03 pm - Took another quickie nap and set out to take care of my parent’s dog while they’re away, and watch some football after getting a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy’s
1:41 pm – Jets vs. Dolphins or Atlanta vs. Lions?!?!?!?! As Speaker might say “Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.” I get to watch part of one game today and have to choose between FARVEFARVEFARVEFARVEFARVE and the Matt Millen fan club? Eric Hipple and someone who can actually play defense please report to the Lions camp immediately.
2:45pm – Start setting up with Stephen Bartley from across the pond who’s looking at a rather late evening/early morning with our shift. He’s already got a list of player to look for in this massive 7,000+ orgy. I manage to spot “The Bulldog” Orel Hershiser who would almost make the money while playing very decently as I followed him for awhile.
5:34pm – Wife announces no dinner for me as I didn’t answer my cell phone (thanks, hon) while Wyatt proudly displays his new #23 jersey for the local soccer club. I wrestle with both of them as they played for a little bit after banging out a quick post.
6:46pm - Find soccer pic on my cell phone, Wyatt is looking good, hopefully he gets his mother's striking ability versus my bad legs for the sport.
8:00pm – Kyra with her new Dora the Explorer PJs comes down alone for a hug and kiss looking more tired then me. But she actually provides me with more caffeine then a double espresso at Starbucks as we near the bubble in Event #6.
10:00pm -- The closers come in, as my brain feels like I just tossed a complete game in 95% humidity. Wish Stephen a great night, and trot upstairs to catch the end of the Bears/Colts game which Payton probably dominating…
10:21pm – Whoa, Payton is on the sidelines looking like his prom date is getting railed by the dance floor by the offensive line. Score one for Donkeypuncher’s Bears.
10:37pm – Walk out to the deck to stare at the backyard for five minute and wind down a bit. Still passed on the IPA, poor choice once again.
10:50pm – Wife is snoring, my head hits the pillow and the first wild weekend of blogging is in the books.
09/05/08 – 8:00pm Log on to PokerStars blogging platform fresh as a newborn after some tit-sucking. I’m first up with Event #1, no pressure leadoff after being called up from single “A” ball.
09/06/08 - 12:00am – Wow, midnight came fast and still plugging away. Alcoholism and self-loathing in the distant future.
4:00 am – Bio break, legs won’t function as I crawl to the bathroom and piss like a water fountain into the toilet
5:32 am – Not looking good for golfing as the final six have extremely healthy “M’s” and with several hundred thousand dollars on the line, I doubt they care if I get to go shoot 18 with my father-in-law an hour from now.
6:30 am – Otis is the man, and takes over for my limp (literally) ass as I stumble into my Greg Norman polo shirt and pillow soft khakis to pick up my brother-in-law for our annual foursome with our father-in-law out at Daytona Golf Club (September rates $27 with a cart for 18, awesome deal!!)
7:01am – First tee time and picture perfect morning with the sun coming over some farmland beyond the first green. The dew is a runny nose-like thick but makes it easier to read my horrible putts
9:23 am – After four three-putts but somehow hitting 7 out of 9 greens in regulation with zero sleep I decide something was needed on the turn. I blankly got an M and M cookie instead of a much needed drink.
11:14am - Bullshiting at the bar after the round for a hour or so is the best part of our annual get-together. My brother-in-law manages to chat about my exploit with an engaged chick right before I started dating his daughter for nearly 15 minutes. Thanks, bro remind me to tell a few stories next time.
12:45pm - Arrive at brother-in-law’s house for burgers and brats on the grill after finally getting some wake-up juice in me (Cap’n Coke of course, heavy on the Cap’n), I wake up enough to acknowledge that this swiss/cheddar burger is pretty goddamn tasty and my daughter is proudly wearing a sticker proclaiming her a junior crimefighter which I’m reminded of every two minutes which I steal a hug from her each time.
2:00pm - Hit the bed with the force of a pre-Buster Douglas fight Mike Tyson.
5:30pm – Wake up to take care of the kids as they were nice enough to take a nap with daddy, wife is scrapbooking until 11pm.
8:00pm – Watch Spongebob Squarepants with the boy as we assembled a fort of pillows, comforters, and state fair won stuffed animals for his “sleepover” in the porch.
9:17pm – Prep for tonight’s Event #4 2-7 Triple Draw with the lovely Change100. Thought about a nice Goose Island IPA, took a Lipton ice tea and a box of Triscuits instead
10:00pm – Settle in for the night purchasing Werewolves of London and Goodbye to You for the iPod while logging into PokerStarsBlog.com and the nifty hand replayer
10:25pm - Make first poker blogging prop bet ever on the finish time, Change100 sets it at 3:45PDT, I take the under for $5.
09/07/08 5:45am -- #@$%!#%@#@!, lose $5 when we’re four-handed. Ship it to Change!
6:15am – watch the most bizarre heads-up play I’ve ever seen, the eventual winner takes 15 hands in a row while both still had healthy Ms to the blinds. The other player just rolls over and dies as with no chop in place he wins the whole $24K
6:30am – Finish up with the final hand from Change100 wish her a good night and log off
6:49am – Kids are up, play around with them wondering who’s in my skin right now
10:07am - Feel much better after a two hour nap when the wife kindly feeds them breakfast and wake up for a little Super Mario World with Wyatt
1:03 pm - Took another quickie nap and set out to take care of my parent’s dog while they’re away, and watch some football after getting a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy’s
1:41 pm – Jets vs. Dolphins or Atlanta vs. Lions?!?!?!?! As Speaker might say “Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.” I get to watch part of one game today and have to choose between FARVEFARVEFARVEFARVEFARVE and the Matt Millen fan club? Eric Hipple and someone who can actually play defense please report to the Lions camp immediately.
2:45pm – Start setting up with Stephen Bartley from across the pond who’s looking at a rather late evening/early morning with our shift. He’s already got a list of player to look for in this massive 7,000+ orgy. I manage to spot “The Bulldog” Orel Hershiser who would almost make the money while playing very decently as I followed him for awhile.
5:34pm – Wife announces no dinner for me as I didn’t answer my cell phone (thanks, hon) while Wyatt proudly displays his new #23 jersey for the local soccer club. I wrestle with both of them as they played for a little bit after banging out a quick post.
6:46pm - Find soccer pic on my cell phone, Wyatt is looking good, hopefully he gets his mother's striking ability versus my bad legs for the sport.
8:00pm – Kyra with her new Dora the Explorer PJs comes down alone for a hug and kiss looking more tired then me. But she actually provides me with more caffeine then a double espresso at Starbucks as we near the bubble in Event #6.
10:00pm -- The closers come in, as my brain feels like I just tossed a complete game in 95% humidity. Wish Stephen a great night, and trot upstairs to catch the end of the Bears/Colts game which Payton probably dominating…
10:21pm – Whoa, Payton is on the sidelines looking like his prom date is getting railed by the dance floor by the offensive line. Score one for Donkeypuncher’s Bears.
10:37pm – Walk out to the deck to stare at the backyard for five minute and wind down a bit. Still passed on the IPA, poor choice once again.
10:50pm – Wife is snoring, my head hits the pillow and the first wild weekend of blogging is in the books.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Into the Partially Unknown
I'm getting paid for this right? As the next two and a half weeks of blog-gasm at PokerStars looms the posts here will contain cute kids (see below) and less metaphors then usual.
Daddy, the cool kids use the side door
My only hope is after this is done, I come out the other side with a smile (probably a tired one) and the want to do this again firmly intact (which I'm not worried about seeing how much I enjoyed working with Short Stack Shamus last week) and being asked to do this again in the future (this part is the one with some wishful thinking).
Yes, I'm that cute, now change my diaper
I'll be honest to say I'm a little worried about performance without the use of the Kama Sutra, alcohol, or one of those sex instructional videos you can buy towards the back of Maxim magazine with the free advanced oral techniques DVD if you buy the first three volumes.
But needless to say, I'm happy for the chance to do something worth a damn and hope some (all) of you follow along at PokerStarsBlog.com as many familiar faces will be popping up like a certain party in a weeks in PA which will serve as a decompression chamber.
Stock up on the Cap'n.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Continuous Path To Follow
Being a parent brings a different meaning to me everyday, as lacking a grip on this highest of priorities is a fault of mine. There’s a reason to go to work, play nice to those around you, avoid that used condom in the hallway (that was new and disturbing since I don't work in a strip club), and new things to learn upon plopping down with the family at 6pm for dinner while nougat farmers with Sampson-like hair talk about the latest on Hurricane Gustav on the TV.
Milestones are set along a road, some clearly marked, others stand within rough that even Tiger Woods with two good knees would have little chance of making the green out of. There’s potty training, first night getting bailed out of jail for using a fake I.D., college graduation, dressing yourself, first sleepover at a friend’s house, first steps, producing grandchildren, first “A” on a test, and first chat with dad on the backyard deck holding a couple of drinks without the wall of child/father relationship standing in the way.
Yesterday was of the clearly marked variety as Wyatt started school, breaking into the realm of progress reports, making friends/enemies, learning beyond his Leapster and Harold and the Purple Crayon readings before bed. Our walk towards a new life around the playground on the rainy morning didn’t shock like finding your fly open while giving a presentation on data security to the board of directors. It was more about taking in and seeing the “Welcome to your first day of Kindergarten!” sign, watching the little guy go to work on the teacher’s aides and peppering them with questions 60 Minutes-style (as the parents hogged most of the teacher’s time to learn about how the precious one will return home each day), and taking a back-row seat to the little people’s flea circus around the miniature chairs and brightly colored affirmations that adorned the walls.
“Its Hard to be Five” by Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, that one, and I know there's better pics, I'm sure WCP or Al can help there) will be the first book read to his ears by someone not named dad, mom, or nana. First scrapes from the playground, first elation of an art project to hang on the fridge, and other firsts soon to come as this parenting marker is now behind us on one road but with more to come. To continue strolling along or in Wyatt’s case hoping my bad knees hold up while he sprints along this path.
I learn just as much as the guy with the new 20 color Crayola markers and glue stick set going back for his second day today. Maybe more.
Two days till the WCOOP at PokerStars. Are you in?
Milestones are set along a road, some clearly marked, others stand within rough that even Tiger Woods with two good knees would have little chance of making the green out of. There’s potty training, first night getting bailed out of jail for using a fake I.D., college graduation, dressing yourself, first sleepover at a friend’s house, first steps, producing grandchildren, first “A” on a test, and first chat with dad on the backyard deck holding a couple of drinks without the wall of child/father relationship standing in the way.
Yesterday was of the clearly marked variety as Wyatt started school, breaking into the realm of progress reports, making friends/enemies, learning beyond his Leapster and Harold and the Purple Crayon readings before bed. Our walk towards a new life around the playground on the rainy morning didn’t shock like finding your fly open while giving a presentation on data security to the board of directors. It was more about taking in and seeing the “Welcome to your first day of Kindergarten!” sign, watching the little guy go to work on the teacher’s aides and peppering them with questions 60 Minutes-style (as the parents hogged most of the teacher’s time to learn about how the precious one will return home each day), and taking a back-row seat to the little people’s flea circus around the miniature chairs and brightly colored affirmations that adorned the walls.
“Its Hard to be Five” by Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, that one, and I know there's better pics, I'm sure WCP or Al can help there) will be the first book read to his ears by someone not named dad, mom, or nana. First scrapes from the playground, first elation of an art project to hang on the fridge, and other firsts soon to come as this parenting marker is now behind us on one road but with more to come. To continue strolling along or in Wyatt’s case hoping my bad knees hold up while he sprints along this path.
I learn just as much as the guy with the new 20 color Crayola markers and glue stick set going back for his second day today. Maybe more.
Two days till the WCOOP at PokerStars. Are you in?
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
From Boy to Bigger Boy
Ok, I might understand the teen pregnancy.
But, the husband's TWO DECADE OLD DUI???!?!?! Who, the fuck cares?
Its nanny crap like this that I don't choose a poltical party let alone try to follow every slip of the tongue by the canadiates. Tell me what you're going to about energy, the war, and getting more restaurants to serve chocolate covered bacon bits and you've got my half-deaf ear.
Busy day, look for pics of Wyatt's first day of school. Proud daddy is taking him into Kindergarten today due to the first day we spend the entire time together. 50/50 chance on the teacher asking me to leave due to disruptive behavior with the bean bags and cymbals.
Wish us luck.
Edit: BWHAHAHAHA Sir Charles with the Captain. Color me jealous.
But, the husband's TWO DECADE OLD DUI???!?!?! Who, the fuck cares?
Its nanny crap like this that I don't choose a poltical party let alone try to follow every slip of the tongue by the canadiates. Tell me what you're going to about energy, the war, and getting more restaurants to serve chocolate covered bacon bits and you've got my half-deaf ear.
Busy day, look for pics of Wyatt's first day of school. Proud daddy is taking him into Kindergarten today due to the first day we spend the entire time together. 50/50 chance on the teacher asking me to leave due to disruptive behavior with the bean bags and cymbals.
Wish us luck.
Edit: BWHAHAHAHA Sir Charles with the Captain. Color me jealous.
Monday, September 01, 2008
Mash, Mush, Me
It is 4am, and I am a pool of refried oatmeal.
May your Labor Day weekend have been plentiful as I take leave until the kids jump on me in approximately 5 hours.
May your Labor Day weekend have been plentiful as I take leave until the kids jump on me in approximately 5 hours.
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