Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Truckin with Dr. Pauly

There was a text message on my phone from Al around 8:30 last night:


Good to my previous word for the SoCo and boobies lover, fired up Full Tilt Poker for the Skillz series as part of the BBT4. My history with these series is not good, read thru some back pages and there’s nothing but enough bad beat stories to fund President Obama’s overhaul of this nation’s economy with some left over to get the Steak Frites with that orgasm-inducing salmon spread at Bouchon’s.

Last night, no different. In a Princess Vespa-Spaceballs-wedding-like synopsis. Down to ten, third in chips. Cracked suited aces, bubble boy.

Add it to the pile of the latest BBT-anything train wreck stories and try to sleep. Would like to thank Waffles for prolonging my bust-out last night, he is the man.

Ok, lots going in our little community if I may slip for people unfamiliar with these groups of poker blogs:

Dank and Jo. So happy for you both. And if you guys post one more fuckin screenshot of a slot jackpot after I’ve played the damn things for 16 years without hitting one solitary hand pay I’m driving over the Canuck border to burn your weed supply.

You’re on notice and congratulations on the engagement!



I have and always will pimp Pauly’s blog-zine for the simple fact that I don’t have time to pour through a book when the daughter needs to be set in bed for the twentieth time because her right Dora slipper fell off. But, you get to taste real stories from writers that may not (currently) appear on the New York Times best sellers list with Grand Canyon-like writing style differences, experiencing lust, greed, and even death.

That’s where my story comes in this month. As mentioned a few month ago, I spoke of the one regret in my life a couple of months ago and turned that into a story. As Pauly helped me get the words out, they are now for you to read if you wish. My brand of literary sense is speckled with bad metaphors and worse sentence structure which would cause a group of English professors to pin my fingers down and break out sledgehammer to prevent further eyes and ears being subjected to my “writing”.

But know in this story that blood was spilt to write it, ghost of relationships past make for good reading and I hope you enjoy it as well as the contributions from Betty and of course Pauly.

1. Popeye by Paul McGuire The beat up truck with Maryland plates included three large green trashbags that were strapped down in the back. A skinny woman in the passenger seat took a swig off of a bottle and handed it to a guy in a baseball hat. He took one long pull and then spit it out of the open window... More

2. Quicklube: A Fable By Milton T. Burton It's turning out to be an A-number-one-fine day for C.C. Chumly. He and several of his like-minded buddies are quaffing a few Tall Toad Pilsners at the Belly-Up Bar, a truly classy place in beautiful downtown Midland, Texas... More

3. The Regret by David "Drizz" Aydt My scar is buried under six feet of solid Nordic dirt and ice, among the mass headstones there's a grave marked with her name that has not been seen by these eyes... More

4. Blue No. 1 by Betty Underground He looked up from the table and our eyes were locked. After so many years, sometimes there is no need for words... More

5. The Miracle of Highway Six by Art Rosch Nevada is a washboard, an undulating series of mountains and valleys, and the roads cut straight across this ancient seabed. At the top of each peak, the view spreads down the road ahead, which goes in a straight line for miles and miles until it disappears into the next rise of the landscape... More

I’ll leave it there today and bottle up the fury of Ed Werner, Peter King, and Chris Mortenson mass reports of Brett Favre donning the purple next year for the Vikings. Or 127 year old John Madden not knowing why he's walking around his cruiser with an erection . Not many things are more important than football, this was. Hope you enjoy the read.

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