Thursday, August 28, 2008

Laboring for Love

Guess they don't like Fantasy Football at work (or other certain topics on the web)... despite full rows of people chatting about snapping up Tomlinson with the fifth overall pick. Purple Jesus went second right after Fuad Reveiz.

Labor Day weekend plans?

Live Poker
Sipping out of a 2-liter of Sun Country Wine Cooler
Take kids to the park's carnival
Home alone to hit up the end-of-the-month tourney for PokerStars. (Have you qualified for the Turbo Takedown or Battle of the Planets yet??)
Wake up
Last Fantasy Draft where I hold the rights to Purple Jesus

All is good.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Suburban Shadows Show Their True Colors

The nine year old baseball player being ostracized by worthless suburban parents on other teams who think only about themselves and not their kids?

Should be subjected to child abuse laws for turning their kids into pansies. "He throws too hard", "They win too much", "My Jaguar isn't as shinny as hers", "My ass is the size of pregnant hippo"


Seriously? All those parents are doing to the kids are teaching them its ok to get up and quit when someone is better then you.


Its not about "safety" because the little phenom has a heater. Its about protecting the egos of the people behind the fence and in the stands holding their camcorders with squirt bottles of Crown and Coke sitting next to them and getting an erection when little Jeffy gets a bloop single during a 18-1 blowout that causes a hugglefest amongst people more selfish then the guy who hordes all the crab legs at a Chinese buffet.

Fuckin tools. Grow up, you're not in high school anyone, the popular crowd still isn't your ticket to getting laid with that four year old condom making an "O" indentation on your wallet. Have the maturity to admit that someone's team/players are better, let your kid try his/her best, then treat your son or daughter to a soft serve with sprinkles at the DQ afterwards while chatting about the game. Show some interest in THEIR lives, not your pathetic existence that hinges on a nine year old lacing a drive down the line during little league.

/end rant

Played skillz game, bubbled skillz game. I still love poker (but it would be nice to win more then once a year).

Bash in one month. Al better practice his virtual animal killing, the challenge is accepted.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Next Parenting Stop: Parent-Teacher Conferences

Not sure what set off the stampede towards this web page over the weekend, but I do know there’s some horny Iranians looking for Amanda Beard photos.

Apparently, I am still the authority on Lea Thompson’s ass: WOLVERINES!!! (you're a commie pinko if you don't watch Red Dawn everytime it pops up on TBS). Mrs. Thompson is not to be confused with Lea Walker. My my, you could float downtown Minneapolis on those things.

Spent the night out on the deck with perfect weather, a decent stout, and bugs finding something else to cause irritation to. The kids managed to beat up on each other less then usual while hacking around the yard with their minature set of golf clubs. God forbid if they ever get hooked on the game, I'm not sure if duffing a 80 yard approach shot after crushing a 350 yard drive is more tilt-worthy then watching yourself get quartered after the final two cards come off the deck after being air tight for a scoop.

I vote for the chunk of sod, unless there's an attentive beer cart chick providing blood pressure lowering macro brews (or a Cap'n Coke if you're so inclined).

The boy is set to start school-age activities next week, of which I will be there first-hand to see him off to the brave new world of academia and heart breaks. The parents are required to spend the first day of Kindergarden with the kids and since I'm more about eating paste then acting my age, I was elected to hold his hand into Ms. Hilstrom's classroom next Tuesday at nine am. A scary proposition for both of us, as I'm letting go of my first born to the outside world hoping they accept him for who he is.

As documented here, I liked learning, I hated school. My only wish is that my son's easement into "real" life outside of afternoon naps and Nana's freshly baked banana bread in the morning is more joy then pain.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Like a Second Time Virgin

A new found respect for the professional "fluffers" out there.

I just hope I don't screw up your gigs, but damn I had fun yesterday live blogging the Sunday Million Warm-up with Short-Stack. Trust me, it WAS work, but I looked up at it was 7:30 and the wife let out her honey-do list that had waited until I logged off the computer.

I keep looking at the list of people who wrote yesterday and the eyesore of my name does not compute. Those are writers, I'm a numbers and accounting g33k that pretends to form funny metaphors and dark thoughts for the people who read things I post. The smile from last night as I returned August Rush this morning at McDonald's (not a bad movie, ending was a bit corny but strong performances all-around), received my McGriddle freshly made to fatty perfection, and was told that a token from Chuck E. Cheese is not legal tender, still hasn't left.

The number of readers does not matter to me, its the fact that I was able to sit down virtually with peers and friends, and produce something that didn't suck. Now the butterflies of the first time are gone, the hymen is broken, and fine-tuning and astroglide to come for a more enjoyable ride. It may not always be smooth, the words may stink up the joint at times, but its something that means a damn to me. Couldn't come at a more perfect time.

Unlike currently earning money for stockholders, the dividends of this job are going straight home. Mentally and monetarily.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Saturday's Are For Wiping Ass

Saturday's with Pauly.

Bucket of Sweet Martha's cookies.

Cold milk on the nightstand.

And a naked two year old standing while holding a shitty diaper that she smeared on her floor.

I love lamp and yes I'm smiling.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Box of Marbles In My Head

There’s a coldness inside of me that will never be warmed. It comes out some nights when all that can be done is stare out the back window to the unfinished lawn with the highway lights dancing off the maple trees. A flood of muddled thoughts flow through but the clarity for listening to the rants in my head is on par with an 800 number for a credit-card customer service center in Bengaluru. Nothing is understood, deciphered, nor solved. “Fade to Black” running from ear to ear wondering how my ass is sitting on a plush couch instead of worse place where fresh memories are never grown again.

Its not an easy life to go on, to slap on too much Axe musk scented body spray and face the world with a snicker that you get the joke, you understand how pretentious corporate and suburban life can be. Was it a right decision to stick it out, to face more failures, to try and earn the heart of another?

Lost but found, lost again but wandering the streets looking for the right turn for home. One can only hope that once there the smiling faces make the journey back into your skin for tomorrow’s mysteries all worth it. My hope is someday the reflection in the mirror does not hate the person he is looking at.

(don't worry I'm ok, just a little brain and self-loathing dump, can't wait for the 15,000 calorie day at The Fair tomorrow)

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Beats Mowing the Lawn

Plane tickets for the Bash: Purchased two months ago but need to figure out transportation and sleeping arrangements. Anyone up for spliting a room/suite/jacuzzi and/or car that is getting into Philly around 11am-Noon on Friday? I have a date on the golf course with the beer cart chick as soon as I touch down in PA.

Plane tickets for Vegas: Purchased two minutes ago, staying at the lovely Imperial Palace from December 12th thru the 15th all by myself. Couldn't pass up $490 for two non-stop flights plus hotel at perfect departure times (could have saved $80 by having a layover in Atlanta coming home?!?!?!). Wife decided not to join me but rather nudged towards a spring break trip if I can earn some extra cash by then. I completely agreed with ruling, and plan to do all the drinking for her at the Geisha Bar so she doesn't feel bad.

This year I demand once again that steak dinner with one or both of the Nardi brothers, but this will only be accomplished by keeping Bobby Blackjack away from the tables and going busto while praying for hognuts within the first two hours of being in Vegas. The likelihood of 1985 Shuttle Run and Pull Up Champ from Michigan actually holding onto a hundo long enough to get a decent Porterhouse are like the continuous Cubs World Series dreams... I guess there's always next year.

Perhaps we can raise some money at the Bash for this. Anyone up for a bar olympics challenge? Choose one of the following bar sports to lose errr... I mean win some money!

- Cricket Darts

- Beer Pong

- Either Cornhole or that Photo Hunt game found at the bar

All challenges welcome, wagers will be taken only if me and Bracelet have a chance at winning.

Yeah I think that's fair.

No one wants to see a sad Spartan losing in Vegas, be kind and rewind, and think of the meat.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Retailing the Retailer

Make no mistake, this minimum pricing ruling hurts you the consumer. The only reason a vendor would care about how much you sell their wares for is image. No, Andre Agassi's image of nailing Steffi Graf on a semi-regular basis is still solid according to various gossip rags. But, a retailer taking say a Gucci purse and selling it for $2 when Gucci said you must sell it for at least $500 is a no-no for the retailer now.

Gucci of course was already paid for the purse by the retailer so why should they care? The profit margin is the retailer's alone unless there's some sort of per-piece sale agreement during a special "sale". Nice work cloaked ones behind the bench, you just made online discounting insolvent. There's a loophole of course and that's to get the product indirectly from the vendor but the middleman will probably eat up too much of the margin to make that worth it.

And knowing is half the battle kids.

Beach Volleyball is the new Baywatch (just not as bouncy and sadly fewer sex tapes). Expect the already popular sport to hit a wider audience as the ladies will be forced to wear g-strings to prevent nasty ass cheek shaffing in the 2009 season. It could happen right?
My wife made the mistake of setting the clock for PM instead of AM, what level of sarcasm should I go for?
Five-year old: Mommy, do you have trouble walking into doors often?
High School kid: Do you see the BIG dot next to the letters "P" and "M" that's supposed to tell you something
Drizz: Yes honey, its perfectly ok to mix up morning and evening just like its ok for me to hit the wrong hole like a rabid bull in Pamplona during our sexy fun time once a month

Hope Betty and The Wife are enjoying their trip, awesome pics go check them out.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Fun For Less Then The Price of a Cup of Coffee

I'm happy the corporate workforce allows for Labor Day off, or the triple lindy of poker blogging at PokerStars with the two end-of-the-month tournaments (Battle of the Planets and Turbo Takedown) along with the Sunday Million, would have me trying coffee for the first time.

Yes, I get through 10 hour workdays after 1-2 hours of sleep, and four hours of getting mauled by two half-pints, followed by 1.5 hours of yelling about how I didn't stack the glasses in the dishwasher according to the correct GE sorting system algorithm last solved by Stephen Hawking.

Why can I? Because I'm still having fun and that's all that counts.

T-Jack looking good, now looking hurt?? If the Vikes can get anywhere near his poise in the regular season and playoffs (yes Herm I said PLAYOFFS) this could be the team to finally make the final push towards a Super Bowl victory. He doesn't need to win games, but needs to make sure he doesn't lose them. Heck, I even saw buttah-fingers Tight End Shiancoe make a nice grab in traffic this weekend. He's a wrecking ball once the velcro has a firm grip, but his hands make Featherstone from Neccessary Roughness look like Jerry Rice.

In other news.... Packers still suck.

I came up with that smack talk all on my own without using Google!

Enjoy your Monday.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Uncharted Territory

My toe in the pool of poker blogging is about to become a foot, maybe even up to my knees.

Stay tuned.

My brief stay in the Mookie last night was more about losing $10 in prop bets to Pauly betting on the last place finishers in the Olympic swimming races (The UK and USA need to learn their priorities!). The poker was the same story of being on the wrong side of variance for an hour, luckily I won my buy-in with a short stint at the $2/$4 O8 tables to make the night a wash.

Glad to see these tourneys are becoming fun again of which you might see more of the over-inflated nurse avatar at in the near future.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Youbetcha Sweet Martha Cookies I'll Be There

Give your right hand a rest tonight while viewing the Brazilian Synco-swim twins at Wicked Chops Poker or a double lesbian dildo sandwich feature at YouPorn.

Its International Left-Handers Day!

I got nothing today except I epically failed to show at the skillz tourney last night but managed to lose both of my SnGs in increasingly normal fashion. Maybe I was just a barely better then break-even player and these last few months are throwing red ink on those profits of four years. If the kiddies head to bed early, and I need some more self-punishment I'll pony up for the Mookie. If not, getting sleep is going to be restless anyway with the Minnesota State Fair coming up next week!

Ok, frozen pickle juice on a stick doesn't exactly have most people frothing at the gash (still top 5 sayings of 2008!) but who can pass up 100,000+ sweaty Minnesotans dashing across the multiple cheese curd stands to see the best 4-H cocks in the state (no pics for the real Rooster)?

I'll be there next Friday, look for the tall shirtless guy with skin tight Absolute Poker PJ pants on, chasing down a two year old in pigtails while holding a 32oz. Leinie Honey Weiss and trying to glance at the chick who needs four bra straps to keep her overinflated water balloons from falling out.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Thumping With the Prez

"Sand in your crotch? Yeah, me too, I call them Democrats though"*
Nice ass. If you're not watching women's beach volleyball, put down the hair products while getting ready to sit down for your DVR'd block of The View and turn on the HDTV for live shots of amazon women jumping and down.
I watched the replay three times of that 4x100 relay for Lezak who came from two continents back to win. Video replay for flipper and trawling motors usage was inconclusive despite the wake being produced.
But if full-contact badminton is more your thing, hit up this video.
Skillz game tonight for the kiddies on Full Tilt, I haven't played in a blogger tourney for almost a month I'm sure my money is missed and may force me to make a donation tonight.
* Not true, and I suck at political humor because I don't follow such nonsense, but I hope you agree she has a great ass

Monday, August 11, 2008

What Comes First: The Chicken or The Egg?

Here’s a little curve ball this morning:

What is more important… the right question or the right answer?

My life was pretty much a straight line for the better part of 33 years. Get a little education, find a wife that tolerates me, get the gold watch and 30 year pension at the bullseye and set my manhood down on a suburban street while my 2.4 kids enjoy the Slip n’ Slide on the front lawn. Then something hit my time continuum like Purple Jesus smashing the hole created by the massive front line of the Vikes.


In all honesty, there’s a struggle daily to even look at the virtual cards from watching my online bankroll take a dive into the abyss. I’d like to think there are good plays coming forth from my fingertips but the end result does not increase my stack. There’s no joy in Mudville these days as the thoughts of being a decent player and WSOP contender are gone, left is a shell of knowledge from Harrington and Krieger with a sprinkle of Brunson. But, the game isn’t finished with me as playing live is just a shade under as exciting as Jessica Biel turning over in bed and saying “what would you like to do me?”.

That happened last week, I enjoyed all five seconds of it before it was time to make frozen waffles while watching new school Transformers cartoons.

The online game still lures me in, but more towards writing about it versus watching yet another mouth breather catch to split a pot or scoop after getting his money in so bad Bernie Mac leapt out of his grave to call him stupid. Yes, despite the google junta backlashing the free ad moneys and sending this blog back into obscurity (did I ever leave?) there’s quite a bit of blogging for buy-ins out there, I want to do much as my lanky frame can handle.

I don’t know how to phrase the correct question on which path to leap to or even look at, but the answer seems to present itself daily as status quo no longer piques my daily need for stimulation beyond searching for non-lesbian pictures of Lindsay Lohan on the net.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

She's Got Legggggggggs

I would like to thank the Olympic committee for Women's Beach Volleyball in High Definition.

That is all.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

My Miracle is Five Years Old

Today is one of those days where reality gets blurred between the lines of what you want, and what you should want. In the past, today’s big announcement of a project I’ve headed from my worker drone position would have me tossing and turning in bed worrying about what four-star general wouldn’t like its functionality. The whispers of co-workers questioning my single digit IQ and their amazement that breathing and walking are motor skills I’m able to complete without a 50 page manual.

Instead my mind is already at CiCi’s pizza flanked by my now five year old son who will tell me about his going under water for a dive stick during swimming lessons today while snacking on a slice of garlic cheese bread. Sure, self-importance and self-esteem is a necessity, otherwise how would you pour that bowl of raisin bran every morning assuring yourself good digestive health for the next ten minutes before taking down a pair of McGriddles and three hash browns. Ok, maybe you personally aren't on a health kick yet, but a positive reaction to that reflection in the mirror should be a goal in life. I watch many peers stake their claims on job titles and pieces of paper. In twenty years those papers will be gathering dust and the basement drawer holding the coffee mug received for getting that promotion will sit dormant.

The memories of a hard backed bench, second-rate pizza slice being held by a glowing face of someone who is glad that you took the time to have sex, and the family that surrounded the parlour with rainbow colored party hats. There’s your self-importance, because no matter how small of a deed, you made a difference in someone else’s life not job.

I’m done being crabby now. Here’s one of my favorite song that never fails to put a smile on my face.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008


Just when I didn't think things could go worse. Blogger eats post that I put a little heart into.

Fuck life.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Better Then Giving a Toaster

If you're planning to play at Pauly's game on Stars tonight, DVR the Golden Girls marathon for once and play.

Do it for the kids.

Do it because you wouldn't want your wife (husband) to look at you like you just told her (him) that your anus is feeling a bit raw after using an Adam and Eve anniversary intimate bonus pack last night while standing next to your mother-in-law and daycare provider.

Do it to give me chips and award me an 8th wedding anniversary gift (yes, hard to believe).

Do it after going to read the latest issue of Truckin'
Truckin' - August 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 8Welcome back to another summer issue of Truckin'

.1. Even More Existentialist Conversations with Strippers by Paul McGuire On the third day of Prozac? That pretty much summed up my visit to the afternoon shift. The stripper was drunk, sedated on happy pills, sloppy, and slurring her speech like Albert Finney at happy hour... More

2. Explaining Amphetamines With Words by Sean A. Lovelace See the thing is an injection is a lot like a bullet from a gun, or words of anger, or like kisses—you can't get it back. And that Valium was working, working its way through his body, his veins, slowing things down, slowing, his pulse, his already pretty-fucking-slow pulse, and then he was, he was, well, he was dead... More

3. Black Hole Sun By Betty Underground I couldn't get her face out of my head. Blank and full of jealousy. Not directed at me, but me as part of the female species. As a representative of the sex that threatened her the most... More

4. Separate From Things We Didn't Want A Part Of by Philip D. Brown My friend fell asleep but the girl didn't and though it was dark I could see her watching me. She didn't look capable of sleep or even rest so I told her that I could help. She told me that needles were out of the question because they were an invasion she wasn't willing to accept... More

5. Capistrano By Brad Willis If the doctor says I'm living, he obviously is lying or seriously misguided. If he tells me I'm living, I'm going to laugh and tell him he better get busy dying for me, because somebody fucking has to... More

Monday, August 04, 2008

One Thousand Posts of Hate (and some love)

Laid up today after puking at work after a half hour.

The bad slide playing poker continues and I don't think there's any further abyss I can crawl into. There's no fun to losing all these months yet here I am firing up Stars, Tilt for some backdoor action whenever my liver decides to get back up from the 15 TKO curtesy of the Cap'n this weekend.

Take a beating, ask for more, much like marriage, happy hour with AlCantHang, or your local S & M kink shop. Right now I'm staring at this icon on Stars "EspnPokerPro" in a smallish PLO8 tourney and bile rises from my throat in anger to such a nasty picture that makes getting up for another orange flavored icy-pop to keep whatever hasn't exited my body pass the posted speed limit on its way to my clean bed linens.

I thought I'd mention this is post number 1,000 for the simple fact that we like internet nerds enjoy such stats of futility. I'd offer a chance to win something fabulous but thanks to the Google overlords, yet another long time ad here has canceled. Mix Google tilt with watching my twindling supply of online poker chips and you get a pouty kid here that is being forced to watch Brett Farve: The Reality Show, instead of the punny geniusness of Sportcenter.

Just bring Erin Andrews (shown above) into the studio and watch the non-Boston sports fans viewship skyrocket.