Ah, the smell of success. Lately, that smell has been a cross between a six month old rotten loaf of bread under a dorm room bed and an overdone slab of steak. The virus ping pong that me and the boy have been playing for almost two weeks has been less then enjoyable with the two a.m. anal wake-up calls and certain death stares from the other side of the bed should my digestive system stain the new sheets.
Hi, how are YOU doin this Monday!
Parasite talks aside, Vikes managed to squeak wide right after dominating the game up until half way thru the third quarter when the Pack decided they couldn’t score against the one-armed Jared Allen bulldOOOOOOOOOzer and scored against our weak-ass punt return team and a pick for a touchdown. Chilly tried to bring out the illusive Pass #2 play in the fourth quarter to shake up 52 year old Gus Frerotte, but it was Purple Jesus rising once again through and around the big front line with a forearm shiver that made Andre the Giant stand up out of his grave and take notice. I’ll let the internet suck-off of Adrian stop there but reserve the right start it up again next week.
The 64oz. of Surly Furious went down silky smooth right next to the homemade pretzels I whipped up thanks to a recipe from a friend of mine adding to a blissful afternoon on the couch that ended with a one-hour mental nap before busting out the PokerStars Sunday Warm-up final table recap (four hands of heads-up play with no chop like last night? Yes, please).
Pauly and Otis were covering a slightly bigger final table at the Rio as I followed while writing last night.
Read both (Pauly's live blog link).
Do it now (Otis' last post of the night, several more are under the "World Series" tag).
If you wussed out and slept last night like me, Phillips lost the lead quickly at the beginning but rallied. Its Eastgate vs. Demidov today. Over/under on the number of hands to decide the WSOP final table? Could it end like the two LAGs that I covered last night and end in four hands?
Oh, I’m taking suggestions for The Wife’s uniform as my personal assistant (read: beer bitch)during the NFL games next month in Vegas. Pictures are highly suggested as I'll happily purchase the attire after confirming the winning threads with the losing Cheesehead. Bonus points for the words "Mesh", "See-through", and "Silk" (is she sweating yet? cue evil laughter).
The winning submission will get a free drink served by my slave in Vegas.