See ya on the other side of soberity and degeneracy.
Monday, March 29, 2010
This Calls For More PAI GOW!
Wilson Phillips is reserved for WPBT trips so today you get:
See ya on the other side of soberity and degeneracy.
See ya on the other side of soberity and degeneracy.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Student orientation.
No idea why someone at my age is going thru this passage as a) I'm taking all courses online b) the people I will be conversing with will be attending a school in Ocela, Florida which is not exactly on the pothole torn Highway 169 going north towards home and c) I'm 35 years old and will be there with 95% high school seniors taking their first step towards maturing into raging alcoholics.
Nonetheless this kid will be taking a long lunch break to be greeted with some store-bought chocolate chip cookies, coffee that I'll pass on, and small talk about the journey of college education. Been there, did part of that but thanks for the reminder that I'm 35 years old! Yes, a spring chicken to most who read these pages but creep old dude to those who were born when I graduated from the high school that is no more than five miles away from the campus.
Once in a while I'll ponder if staying at Arizona State to tough it out and rack up a six figure tuition bill would have been for the better. Then, I'll wake up to the fact of how miserable and out-of-place I was there mentally as academically things were fine. Had I gone there after meeting my future wife things would have been different, and a shiny well-respected Pac-10 conference party school Accounting degree would be hanging in the basement. But, my choices to come home and mature as a person turned out to be game changing as this step in life begins with clocking out for a few hours to learn about office hours and tutors available to the student body of which I will become a member of when Accounting I starts up on Monday and with luck will end with Tax Theory III sometime in 2014.
Scared? Yes.
Ready? Absolutely.
Just so I don't alienate all of my poker rabid friends, I do have a post stirring at the moment for mnpokermag.com just time and the upcoming trip to Vegas haven't given me much to work with. Thoughts on the G-Vegas game and why-are-you-all-folding-preflop-to-my-aces-for-the-15th millonth-time-in-Rush-Poker will be in print this weekend unless the wife has plans for us before hitting McCarran airport in the early evening on Monday.
No idea why someone at my age is going thru this passage as a) I'm taking all courses online b) the people I will be conversing with will be attending a school in Ocela, Florida which is not exactly on the pothole torn Highway 169 going north towards home and c) I'm 35 years old and will be there with 95% high school seniors taking their first step towards maturing into raging alcoholics.
Nonetheless this kid will be taking a long lunch break to be greeted with some store-bought chocolate chip cookies, coffee that I'll pass on, and small talk about the journey of college education. Been there, did part of that but thanks for the reminder that I'm 35 years old! Yes, a spring chicken to most who read these pages but creep old dude to those who were born when I graduated from the high school that is no more than five miles away from the campus.
Once in a while I'll ponder if staying at Arizona State to tough it out and rack up a six figure tuition bill would have been for the better. Then, I'll wake up to the fact of how miserable and out-of-place I was there mentally as academically things were fine. Had I gone there after meeting my future wife things would have been different, and a shiny well-respected Pac-10 conference party school Accounting degree would be hanging in the basement. But, my choices to come home and mature as a person turned out to be game changing as this step in life begins with clocking out for a few hours to learn about office hours and tutors available to the student body of which I will become a member of when Accounting I starts up on Monday and with luck will end with Tax Theory III sometime in 2014.
Scared? Yes.
Ready? Absolutely.
Just so I don't alienate all of my poker rabid friends, I do have a post stirring at the moment for mnpokermag.com just time and the upcoming trip to Vegas haven't given me much to work with. Thoughts on the G-Vegas game and why-are-you-all-folding-preflop-to-my-aces-for-the-15th millonth-time-in-Rush-Poker will be in print this weekend unless the wife has plans for us before hitting McCarran airport in the early evening on Monday.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Trading a Diamond for a Degree
Leaving the mound for what would be the last time after throwing hard and impressing no one after having the similar results of a 16 year old taking a drivers test and running the car through an antique store while busting the rare Faberge egg on the high shelf behind the counter with a cracked pane of storefront glass, what was there to do for someone who's hobby was sports.
Hung up the breezers and helmet last year, love for volleyball was still three glorious summers at Mama G's bar and the rusty old Robbinsdale school away, but baseball was front and center for getting my head out of a computer, my only social machine for a recluse stick-figure of a kid with a hearing problem. Then came a bored night in Champlin at Clyde Andrews Park while I watched my best friend play softball and scoffed at these adults hitting an oversized ball being lobbed to them as if they were swinging from a tee. "Baseball players don't stoop to this level" I told my overconfident, snobby self. But it took one feel from my right arm, remembering all the nights of ice packs, stretching, massaging, and of course the pain as my underdeveloped arm never had a chance of going more than seven innings due to the overuse and it would only get worse.
I played in jeans and Reebok high tops that night like a rookie and after getting handed my first softball jacket and jersey, stepping back on the mound would only happen at the State Fair speed pitch game. Three nights a week, tournaments on the weekend, 2 for 1 pitchers, and a couple in the parking lots, the adult tee-ball game of slo-pitch softball filled the void of needing competition as I would soon find a couple of great girlfriends and eventually a wife thru its social aspect as well.
After the head injury at work, my life changed, no longer important was making that tournament in Becker or closing down DeLisi's on Tuesdays. Kids came into the picture while I attempted to get back on the field, seizures be damned. A marriage was crumbling yet softball was still a consistant, playing a co-ed team was the one way both us were able to get out of the house, away from the blackness that our vows continued to be weighted down by.
A new home, a new baby, a new start soon came after and softball took a back seat to the birth of another group of friends that showed that my love for cards, gambling, and sarcasm was to enjoyed via writing. Thus the birth of this page of which I've chronicled the last nearly six years of my life. Effectively giving both my marriage and my self-worth a big enough boost to live again versus going through the motions of the average. Working at the PokerStarsBlog for the Sunday Majors along with WCOOP and SCOOP Poker Tournament showed me what could happen if I'd step out of my comfort area of plunking numbers into spreadsheets.
Bringing me to today. For the first time in 16 years I will not be donning the jersey of a local pub, auto body repair shop, or local construction company on the fields in Crystal, Brooklyn Park, or Maple Grove. Between school, work, family and friends is were my free time will be this spring and summer. Playing catch with my son and daughter in the backyard for the past two nights nailed the coffin on my playing days. Sure, I may step in for a special guest appearance on the diamond like Wil Wheaton stepping onto may different sets including playing Sheldon's neimsis on Big Bang Theory (which I watched the show for the first time on Monday and got hooked). And if school goes well, I may find myself playing an abbreviated season in the fall, but as for the kid who watched behind Field #3 16 years ago, he might have grown up a bit in the respect of placing what is truly important.
Don't worry, one part of me will never break the Peter Pan spell which I'll hold to till death as becoming a GET OFF MY LAWN type will have to wait until I'm sitting on my porch on an Arizona golf course several decades from now sipping my morning scotch pelting the country club types with my Daisy BB gun for trying to retrieve their horrible shanks.
Hung up the breezers and helmet last year, love for volleyball was still three glorious summers at Mama G's bar and the rusty old Robbinsdale school away, but baseball was front and center for getting my head out of a computer, my only social machine for a recluse stick-figure of a kid with a hearing problem. Then came a bored night in Champlin at Clyde Andrews Park while I watched my best friend play softball and scoffed at these adults hitting an oversized ball being lobbed to them as if they were swinging from a tee. "Baseball players don't stoop to this level" I told my overconfident, snobby self. But it took one feel from my right arm, remembering all the nights of ice packs, stretching, massaging, and of course the pain as my underdeveloped arm never had a chance of going more than seven innings due to the overuse and it would only get worse.
I played in jeans and Reebok high tops that night like a rookie and after getting handed my first softball jacket and jersey, stepping back on the mound would only happen at the State Fair speed pitch game. Three nights a week, tournaments on the weekend, 2 for 1 pitchers, and a couple in the parking lots, the adult tee-ball game of slo-pitch softball filled the void of needing competition as I would soon find a couple of great girlfriends and eventually a wife thru its social aspect as well.
After the head injury at work, my life changed, no longer important was making that tournament in Becker or closing down DeLisi's on Tuesdays. Kids came into the picture while I attempted to get back on the field, seizures be damned. A marriage was crumbling yet softball was still a consistant, playing a co-ed team was the one way both us were able to get out of the house, away from the blackness that our vows continued to be weighted down by.
A new home, a new baby, a new start soon came after and softball took a back seat to the birth of another group of friends that showed that my love for cards, gambling, and sarcasm was to enjoyed via writing. Thus the birth of this page of which I've chronicled the last nearly six years of my life. Effectively giving both my marriage and my self-worth a big enough boost to live again versus going through the motions of the average. Working at the PokerStarsBlog for the Sunday Majors along with WCOOP and SCOOP Poker Tournament showed me what could happen if I'd step out of my comfort area of plunking numbers into spreadsheets.
Bringing me to today. For the first time in 16 years I will not be donning the jersey of a local pub, auto body repair shop, or local construction company on the fields in Crystal, Brooklyn Park, or Maple Grove. Between school, work, family and friends is were my free time will be this spring and summer. Playing catch with my son and daughter in the backyard for the past two nights nailed the coffin on my playing days. Sure, I may step in for a special guest appearance on the diamond like Wil Wheaton stepping onto may different sets including playing Sheldon's neimsis on Big Bang Theory (which I watched the show for the first time on Monday and got hooked). And if school goes well, I may find myself playing an abbreviated season in the fall, but as for the kid who watched behind Field #3 16 years ago, he might have grown up a bit in the respect of placing what is truly important.
Don't worry, one part of me will never break the Peter Pan spell which I'll hold to till death as becoming a GET OFF MY LAWN type will have to wait until I'm sitting on my porch on an Arizona golf course several decades from now sipping my morning scotch pelting the country club types with my Daisy BB gun for trying to retrieve their horrible shanks.
Monday, March 22, 2010
10 Years Already?
Phillies and Yankess currently filling up the screen as the little one decided to allow her father to type on the internet for a few minutes before a wave of bathroom/snack/movie requests come wafting down the hallway. Relaxation before the storm of SCOOP and covering four online poker tournaments at the PokerStarsBlog in one day next month.
A week at work doing a lot of clock gazing since me and the wife will be in Vegas celebrating our 10 years of martial bliss or celebrating the fact that neither one of us has turned a Bowie hunting knife on each other yet. Amazement falls short of describing the fortitude of my wife to put up with my childish ways and not only accept who I am, but allow me the space to find out as well. My gigs writing about poker helped break my shell of playing it safe and accepting the data-entry level position at work as my career. It opened my eyes that I could do more and maybe even be successful at it. Thus, school begins in three weeks to obtain the knowledge for those positions, shredding the cobwebs from that position better suited for someone looking to retire versus in the toddler years of raising two kids.
This weekend me and family also tried something new which I brought back after enjoying it immensely in G-Vegas. No, it wasn't the Le Trappe quad that went down like a beer that demanded respect while drinking it. It was the Saturday morning jaunt to a local disc golf park that piqued my interest as I found myself looking up local course yesterday morning and found a short eight hole course just three miles from my house. It was nothing fancy, heavily wooded, confusing to find the next hole, but me and the kids loved it. When the weather improves in the near future as Minnesota's six months of snow burial has turned into sludge and winds no longer threaten to remove uncovered fingers, I hope to hit up the massive Elm Creek disc golf course that boasts "18 championship styled holes". At $3 a round its a deep discount from hitting a little white ball in various directions for $50-$100 a round.
Now if you'll excuse me I need to start the clock watching since exactly seven days from now, I will be knee-deep in Cap'n Cokes while taunting Pai Gow dealers into spreading Jack-hi Pai Gows for the sake of my wife who hates to lose.
For the sake of people on Facebook I got this on my front page for a daily WTF? Photoshopped boobs FTW!!
A week at work doing a lot of clock gazing since me and the wife will be in Vegas celebrating our 10 years of martial bliss or celebrating the fact that neither one of us has turned a Bowie hunting knife on each other yet. Amazement falls short of describing the fortitude of my wife to put up with my childish ways and not only accept who I am, but allow me the space to find out as well. My gigs writing about poker helped break my shell of playing it safe and accepting the data-entry level position at work as my career. It opened my eyes that I could do more and maybe even be successful at it. Thus, school begins in three weeks to obtain the knowledge for those positions, shredding the cobwebs from that position better suited for someone looking to retire versus in the toddler years of raising two kids.
This weekend me and family also tried something new which I brought back after enjoying it immensely in G-Vegas. No, it wasn't the Le Trappe quad that went down like a beer that demanded respect while drinking it. It was the Saturday morning jaunt to a local disc golf park that piqued my interest as I found myself looking up local course yesterday morning and found a short eight hole course just three miles from my house. It was nothing fancy, heavily wooded, confusing to find the next hole, but me and the kids loved it. When the weather improves in the near future as Minnesota's six months of snow burial has turned into sludge and winds no longer threaten to remove uncovered fingers, I hope to hit up the massive Elm Creek disc golf course that boasts "18 championship styled holes". At $3 a round its a deep discount from hitting a little white ball in various directions for $50-$100 a round.
Now if you'll excuse me I need to start the clock watching since exactly seven days from now, I will be knee-deep in Cap'n Cokes while taunting Pai Gow dealers into spreading Jack-hi Pai Gows for the sake of my wife who hates to lose.
For the sake of people on Facebook I got this on my front page for a daily WTF? Photoshopped boobs FTW!!
Friday, March 19, 2010
Breaking News: NCAA Tournament Possibly Rigged
*BREAKING NEWS (AP): NCAA Questions So-Called Bracket-olgist
G-Vegas, South Carolina
By Nomar Garza March 19th, 2010
After yesterday's startling start to the Men's NCAA Basketball tournament, representatives from the National Collegiate Athletic Association paid a visit to a local elementary school to question this man below:
After the notorious "bracket-ologist" managed to correctly predict the upsets of Murray St., St. Mary's, and ODU yesterday eyebrows were raised at the corporate headquarters in Indianapolis, Indiana as they dispatched agents to question his possible involvement with tampering the games.
Patty Spitzmuller, lead agent of the basketball fraud division had this to say "The percentage of people who correctly picked these game is ASTRONOMICAL, I mean COME ON just like last night while playing Rush Poker at Full Tilt I had pocket aces and some complete douchebag had eight-seven off called me do..." (editor note: we demanded a dollar from Patty after broadsiding us with a lame bad beat story)
The boy's father "Papa Otis" is widely known for his underground lime tossing operation but the city is unable to press charges due to alledged political connections with "The Mayor" had this to say: "The boy has talent, and someday he'll be able to make hit the $50 lime shot blindfolded".
Those involved with money pool with Lil' Otis have demanded their money back while hurling childish insults at his beloved Missouri Mizzou as Lil' Otis could not be reached for comment due to nap time. The scope of the investation is near completion as we await the NCAA's decision and will report here at Nickleanddimes if the participants will be able to re-do their shattered brackets.
*this story is completely false and I wish Lil' Otis the best of luck in taking us down
G-Vegas, South Carolina
By Nomar Garza March 19th, 2010
After yesterday's startling start to the Men's NCAA Basketball tournament, representatives from the National Collegiate Athletic Association paid a visit to a local elementary school to question this man below:
"Lil' Otis"
Photo Cred: Rapid Eye Reality
After the notorious "bracket-ologist" managed to correctly predict the upsets of Murray St., St. Mary's, and ODU yesterday eyebrows were raised at the corporate headquarters in Indianapolis, Indiana as they dispatched agents to question his possible involvement with tampering the games.
Patty Spitzmuller, lead agent of the basketball fraud division had this to say "The percentage of people who correctly picked these game is ASTRONOMICAL, I mean COME ON just like last night while playing Rush Poker at Full Tilt I had pocket aces and some complete douchebag had eight-seven off called me do..." (editor note: we demanded a dollar from Patty after broadsiding us with a lame bad beat story)
The boy's father "Papa Otis" is widely known for his underground lime tossing operation but the city is unable to press charges due to alledged political connections with "The Mayor" had this to say: "The boy has talent, and someday he'll be able to make hit the $50 lime shot blindfolded".
Those involved with money pool with Lil' Otis have demanded their money back while hurling childish insults at his beloved Missouri Mizzou as Lil' Otis could not be reached for comment due to nap time. The scope of the investation is near completion as we await the NCAA's decision and will report here at Nickleanddimes if the participants will be able to re-do their shattered brackets.
*this story is completely false and I wish Lil' Otis the best of luck in taking us down
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Top O' Elders To Ya
Not letting this guy on the Ellen show deal at the next home game. Great sleigh of hand usage along with a story that uses the whole deck plus the "what the hell?" card which really should be included in those times you get two outed.
This morning my thoughts were first towards a weird dream that included having sex with Carmen Electria in a canoe while at hockey camp with Devo in full WHIP IT! mode on the shoreline as my hearing aids melted.
I need different dreams.
Sign of age? After the former playmate took the oar back to the boathouse, all my thoughts were on taking my daughter to her preschool class tonight and hitting up the gym so that purple Absolute shirt would fit better in Vegas for the WPBT Winter Gathering.
While eating breakfast in full work attire my wife asked why I lacked anything green today. My 1/4 Irish heritage yelled at me to immediately slam a car bomb and a Smitty before going to work as penance. No "amateur hour" for me tonight, no sitting up top The Local with my brother ogling at the women in skin-tight "Fuck me I'm Irish tonight" t-shirts as they down Big Gingers and aptly colored macro beers until the walls become fuzzy. Normally, there would be a plan to hit up downtown and toss back a few pints while regretting it the entire next day but tonight the parental cap is firmly on, at least until after the kids are tucked in after reading Hop on Pop, then while in comforts of my own home one Big Ginger will be consumed right before sleeping at an hour usually reserved for my kids.
Old age or getting smarter?
Happy St. Patty's Day to all. Enjoy your Bangers and Mash tonight :)
This morning my thoughts were first towards a weird dream that included having sex with Carmen Electria in a canoe while at hockey camp with Devo in full WHIP IT! mode on the shoreline as my hearing aids melted.
I need different dreams.
Sign of age? After the former playmate took the oar back to the boathouse, all my thoughts were on taking my daughter to her preschool class tonight and hitting up the gym so that purple Absolute shirt would fit better in Vegas for the WPBT Winter Gathering.
While eating breakfast in full work attire my wife asked why I lacked anything green today. My 1/4 Irish heritage yelled at me to immediately slam a car bomb and a Smitty before going to work as penance. No "amateur hour" for me tonight, no sitting up top The Local with my brother ogling at the women in skin-tight "Fuck me I'm Irish tonight" t-shirts as they down Big Gingers and aptly colored macro beers until the walls become fuzzy. Normally, there would be a plan to hit up downtown and toss back a few pints while regretting it the entire next day but tonight the parental cap is firmly on, at least until after the kids are tucked in after reading Hop on Pop, then while in comforts of my own home one Big Ginger will be consumed right before sleeping at an hour usually reserved for my kids.
Old age or getting smarter?
Happy St. Patty's Day to all. Enjoy your Bangers and Mash tonight :)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Team Tubby Time
March Madness is officially upon us. Thus begins the first week of a sport most of us ignore for the better part of the year and turn into rabid fans of basketball teams from regionally obscure colleges like Siena and Wofford.
CBS Sportsline tickers overcome the need to watch how Wal-Mart, Big Blue, and Microsoft are faring during the morning trading hours, in order to see if that number 12 seed pulled off the upset to take the lead in the office pool over Sindy who managed to blindly pick 95% of the 1st round games correctly based on school colors. High times for degenerates and college basketball fans alike, as I profess to having nothing more than a passing interest while rooting on the Gophers who before the Jan Gangelhoff story broke leaving a proud program in tatters thanks to players who couldn't bother upkeeping the one reason why they were wearing those jerseys (aside from Bobby Jackson and Lenard who did have the talent for the next level). I watched a year or two of the Dan Monson show and promptly phased out Gopher basketball as passable entertainment or worthy of fandom.
Recently Tubby Smith has brought back the "fear the barn" mystique that Williams Arena had, thus a few nights during the winter I would check in with this team to see if things were worth watching. Bad losses to sub-par opponents mixed with taking down Top 25 teams at home gave a not-ready-for-prime-time feel as hockey and watching Ocean's 13 for the 22nd time on AMC seemed more productive and entertaining. In a few days the Gophers will be riding a wave of resurgent first-half play that saw them following through (ignore that Big Ten championship game vs. THE Ohio State U) and winning games over ranked Purdue and Michigan State. Can they take a first half lead to the house against Xavier and give Team Tubby a little cred, some juice to a sport state mired in tear soaked Purple towels and wondering if the prodigal son of the Twins is staying here for the balance of his career?
We'll see this week if the trend of blistering first halves from this Gopher squad turn into a minor upset of an 11 seed taking down a 6 and watching my brackets fall before I even leave work and having to wait until the various websites offer a Sweet 16 bracelet for even more action.
CBS Sportsline tickers overcome the need to watch how Wal-Mart, Big Blue, and Microsoft are faring during the morning trading hours, in order to see if that number 12 seed pulled off the upset to take the lead in the office pool over Sindy who managed to blindly pick 95% of the 1st round games correctly based on school colors. High times for degenerates and college basketball fans alike, as I profess to having nothing more than a passing interest while rooting on the Gophers who before the Jan Gangelhoff story broke leaving a proud program in tatters thanks to players who couldn't bother upkeeping the one reason why they were wearing those jerseys (aside from Bobby Jackson and Lenard who did have the talent for the next level). I watched a year or two of the Dan Monson show and promptly phased out Gopher basketball as passable entertainment or worthy of fandom.
Recently Tubby Smith has brought back the "fear the barn" mystique that Williams Arena had, thus a few nights during the winter I would check in with this team to see if things were worth watching. Bad losses to sub-par opponents mixed with taking down Top 25 teams at home gave a not-ready-for-prime-time feel as hockey and watching Ocean's 13 for the 22nd time on AMC seemed more productive and entertaining. In a few days the Gophers will be riding a wave of resurgent first-half play that saw them following through (ignore that Big Ten championship game vs. THE Ohio State U) and winning games over ranked Purdue and Michigan State. Can they take a first half lead to the house against Xavier and give Team Tubby a little cred, some juice to a sport state mired in tear soaked Purple towels and wondering if the prodigal son of the Twins is staying here for the balance of his career?
We'll see this week if the trend of blistering first halves from this Gopher squad turn into a minor upset of an 11 seed taking down a 6 and watching my brackets fall before I even leave work and having to wait until the various websites offer a Sweet 16 bracelet for even more action.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Dreaming of Transformers
The awaking from sleep quotient:
2a (3b - c) = number of minutes to get your ass out of bed after children have awaken
a = hotness of woman or male you are dreaming about (mine shown below)
b = Number of days since you last had sex
c = Ability of your children to treat you like a WCW extra while you're still trying to hold on to that dream until Megan Fox declares you the best she's ever had for the 14th time
Enjoy the weekend folks, I'll be covering the Sunday Warm-up tomorrow, and may be taking a week of at the Bullseye for a little tourney series over at PokerStars (114 tournaments?!?!!?) called SCOOP. Hope to see you there.
2a (3b - c) = number of minutes to get your ass out of bed after children have awaken
a = hotness of woman or male you are dreaming about (mine shown below)
Image from TheHollywoodGossip
b = Number of days since you last had sex
c = Ability of your children to treat you like a WCW extra while you're still trying to hold on to that dream until Megan Fox declares you the best she's ever had for the 14th time
Enjoy the weekend folks, I'll be covering the Sunday Warm-up tomorrow, and may be taking a week of at the Bullseye for a little tourney series over at PokerStars (114 tournaments?!?!!?) called SCOOP. Hope to see you there.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thursdays are for Truckin
** With new templates abound by some of the "older" bloggers out there, I'd love to know how to go about getting some life into this here blog (besides my dead "writing" of course. If any web-heads or people who know such people, I'm willing to part with a couple of bucks for a new look, let me know via email found on the right **
If you didn't know by now that the latest Truckin is out, you have issues and should have a doctor or a doctor look at that for you (careful though, only of them knows his left from his right, but I'd rather have one over the other in the emergency room should I ever get the need to pull a Tiger Woods and get bludggeoned by a 27 oz. Worth softball bat):
1. Purple Pajamas by Paul McGuire
"A girl from Texas once told me that grasshoppers were lucky," said Lucien as he balanced his guitar on his leg and leaned into the microphone. "I didn't believe her. I used to kill 'em whenever I came across 'em."... More
2. Jonny, No H by Sigge S. Amdal
I needed a cabbie, and I needed it fast 'fore anyone wrong around me would pay any notice. This is a dog-eat-dog kind of town as soon as the bar closes and all the police of central Oslo has left somewhere else entirely, never there when you need them and especially there when you don't... More
3. Fire Confession by Chris Hall
The completely rational part of my brain drowned in a sea of paranoia as I frantically flapped my t-shirt underneath the alarm trying to stop it from going off. I couldn't really see any smoke, but this was an expensive hotel, maybe it had very sensitive fire-alarms that could detect it easily, but my alarm was going off. Ergo, it must be my fault... More
4. Kankakee by Change100
Well, there were a lot of tractors in these parts and for a moment there, I felt like I was in the opening scene of a slasher movie, the naïve girl being lured in by seemingly folksy farmers who then proceed to hack her to pieces and sell off her organs to smugglers... More
5. Those Grifting O'Malleys by Johnny Hughes
I parked the car, and walked over the bridge to Mexico. In a half a block, I bought a whiskey and coke for a nickel. It didn't take much to get me drunk, being only my fourth of fifth time. I bought this big sombrero, and two fifths of fancy, but cheap champagne. That was a mistake, because I had to carry them everywhere, and if I wore the sombrero, folks would hoorah me... More
If you didn't know by now that the latest Truckin is out, you have issues and should have a doctor or a doctor look at that for you (careful though, only of them knows his left from his right, but I'd rather have one over the other in the emergency room should I ever get the need to pull a Tiger Woods and get bludggeoned by a 27 oz. Worth softball bat):
1. Purple Pajamas by Paul McGuire
"A girl from Texas once told me that grasshoppers were lucky," said Lucien as he balanced his guitar on his leg and leaned into the microphone. "I didn't believe her. I used to kill 'em whenever I came across 'em."... More
2. Jonny, No H by Sigge S. Amdal
I needed a cabbie, and I needed it fast 'fore anyone wrong around me would pay any notice. This is a dog-eat-dog kind of town as soon as the bar closes and all the police of central Oslo has left somewhere else entirely, never there when you need them and especially there when you don't... More
3. Fire Confession by Chris Hall
The completely rational part of my brain drowned in a sea of paranoia as I frantically flapped my t-shirt underneath the alarm trying to stop it from going off. I couldn't really see any smoke, but this was an expensive hotel, maybe it had very sensitive fire-alarms that could detect it easily, but my alarm was going off. Ergo, it must be my fault... More
4. Kankakee by Change100
Well, there were a lot of tractors in these parts and for a moment there, I felt like I was in the opening scene of a slasher movie, the naïve girl being lured in by seemingly folksy farmers who then proceed to hack her to pieces and sell off her organs to smugglers... More
5. Those Grifting O'Malleys by Johnny Hughes
I parked the car, and walked over the bridge to Mexico. In a half a block, I bought a whiskey and coke for a nickel. It didn't take much to get me drunk, being only my fourth of fifth time. I bought this big sombrero, and two fifths of fancy, but cheap champagne. That was a mistake, because I had to carry them everywhere, and if I wore the sombrero, folks would hoorah me... More
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Fun With Numbers
Yesterday there was a corporate self-betterment class called "Career Planning". As in the past, my personal interest in the matter was slim-to-none, however recent enlightment that is not pushed by the economy but rather break some walls down that have drilled me down a ladder climbing hole so deep that I would take less money just to do something that the true minions of advancement would use to springboard to their next promotion.
After pre-taking the Strong Interest Inventory, I learned the following things that I already knew about myself but nice to have it confirmed:
- Accounting was the #1 fit for likes/dislikes followed by Banker, Credit Manager, and Strip Club jizz mopper
- Conventional learning skills were at the forefront while Artistic ones lagged behind so far most occupations with Artistic backgrounds scored in the negative points on a range from -20 to 80 with -20 being the job most likely to cause one's self to beg for Jigsaw to show up and create an elaborate death trap before reaching your desk every day, and 80 being the job that you'd give up sex, steak, sleep, and Butterscotch Krimpets Tastykakes (available online!!!!!).
- Enjoying to lead by example versus taking charge and delgating the work others hit my personality on the nose. Learning by doing and learning for a reason versus picking up a book on the French language to read a French Cuisine cookbook and whipping up some five-course meal consisting entirely of words my lisp-filled tongue couldn't possibly pronounce.
The class also made me realize that if I don't make a change soon the resentment of not stretching myself at the regular job versus the one get to show-off some creativity and that I truly enjoy, apathy will seep in deeply enough to kill any chance of moving ahead if/when that four-year college degree becomes real. As nerdy as it sounds, I do enjoy working with and analyzing data, it's just how I'm built. Granted the life story of a tall poker playing married accountant doesn't have the ring of a traveling man in quest of the next rush, it is genuine, there are sparks away from the faceless spreadsheets. Those breaks from linear parenting/married life just come fewer and further between. But for those who drop here, you will get an honest story if not a dry one at times as there's so much gushing about one's offspring before gagging starts (LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!!!!)
A quick aside... I saw this article about the nth attempt to push through a racino (or two) in Minnesota and once again my lack of understand and gross dislike of politics has me scratching my freshly cut hair.
These are the ideas/quotes I understand but tell me why they happen in a nation where THE PEOPLE'S OPINION is supposed to rule?
Sen. Sandy Pappas, DFL-St. Paul, acknowledged what Day suspects — that the bill, sponsored by Sen. Dan Sparks, DFL-Austin, doesn't stand much of a chance in committee.
"I haven't looked myself at the numbers, but I would doubt it," Pappas said. "There's never been very much support for racino."
O-rly?
Further up the article you'll see these poll numbers:
At issue is not only expanding gambling in Minnesota — something the state's American Indian tribes with gambling venues staunchly oppose, but which 80 percent of Minnesotans in a recent KSTP/Survey USA poll said they support — but also the even touchier issue of the role money plays in politics.
Granted there's nothing noted of the poll size/economic background/ability to somehow drink Michelob Ultra/if they stood outside of Canterbury Park asking if they would like a casino inside but 80 percent with a generous +/- of say eight percent error rate seems like more than a majority. Now the argument of a saturation point for gambling the state, I can buy that, but for the committee who is partially backed by tribal casino dollars to have the final say on whether or not a couple of fine looking race tracks can't upgrade to having slot machines is like asking an actor if they would like to nominate themselves for an Oscar/Emmy/Golden Globe.
After pre-taking the Strong Interest Inventory, I learned the following things that I already knew about myself but nice to have it confirmed:
- Accounting was the #1 fit for likes/dislikes followed by Banker, Credit Manager, and Strip Club jizz mopper
- Conventional learning skills were at the forefront while Artistic ones lagged behind so far most occupations with Artistic backgrounds scored in the negative points on a range from -20 to 80 with -20 being the job most likely to cause one's self to beg for Jigsaw to show up and create an elaborate death trap before reaching your desk every day, and 80 being the job that you'd give up sex, steak, sleep, and Butterscotch Krimpets Tastykakes (available online!!!!!).
- Enjoying to lead by example versus taking charge and delgating the work others hit my personality on the nose. Learning by doing and learning for a reason versus picking up a book on the French language to read a French Cuisine cookbook and whipping up some five-course meal consisting entirely of words my lisp-filled tongue couldn't possibly pronounce.
The class also made me realize that if I don't make a change soon the resentment of not stretching myself at the regular job versus the one get to show-off some creativity and that I truly enjoy, apathy will seep in deeply enough to kill any chance of moving ahead if/when that four-year college degree becomes real. As nerdy as it sounds, I do enjoy working with and analyzing data, it's just how I'm built. Granted the life story of a tall poker playing married accountant doesn't have the ring of a traveling man in quest of the next rush, it is genuine, there are sparks away from the faceless spreadsheets. Those breaks from linear parenting/married life just come fewer and further between. But for those who drop here, you will get an honest story if not a dry one at times as there's so much gushing about one's offspring before gagging starts (LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!!!!)
These are the ideas/quotes I understand but tell me why they happen in a nation where THE PEOPLE'S OPINION is supposed to rule?
Sen. Sandy Pappas, DFL-St. Paul, acknowledged what Day suspects — that the bill, sponsored by Sen. Dan Sparks, DFL-Austin, doesn't stand much of a chance in committee.
"I haven't looked myself at the numbers, but I would doubt it," Pappas said. "There's never been very much support for racino."
O-rly?
Further up the article you'll see these poll numbers:
At issue is not only expanding gambling in Minnesota — something the state's American Indian tribes with gambling venues staunchly oppose, but which 80 percent of Minnesotans in a recent KSTP/Survey USA poll said they support — but also the even touchier issue of the role money plays in politics.
Granted there's nothing noted of the poll size/economic background/ability to somehow drink Michelob Ultra/if they stood outside of Canterbury Park asking if they would like a casino inside but 80 percent with a generous +/- of say eight percent error rate seems like more than a majority. Now the argument of a saturation point for gambling the state, I can buy that, but for the committee who is partially backed by tribal casino dollars to have the final say on whether or not a couple of fine looking race tracks can't upgrade to having slot machines is like asking an actor if they would like to nominate themselves for an Oscar/Emmy/Golden Globe.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Looking For Food In All the Wrong Places
Euphoria was yesterday.
Today, the last drips of adrenaline have left the body and a different kind of rush begins. The family rush kindles other feelings of love and affection than friends provide. Usually, but not always, the family doesn't leave your left arm immobile and a hand that looks like it got put through the roast beef slicer at Arby's. Battle wounds from this weekend will fade eventually, but memories will stay thanks to some talented folks taking pictures of the event.
A last thank you to those who's work in welcoming our band of professionals turned degenerates with the drop of an Al-sized SoCo shot to your hometown. It was a pleasure. Perhaps if the stars line up again, this time I'll find a roomie downtown despite the VERY comfortable bed and accomodations at the Haywood Hampton Inn. Great service besides housekeeping barging in a few times while someone who sleeps threadless was watching Sportscenter.
You can go grab the virtual eye bleach now.
Going out last night for a quick dinner at a local chain restaurant, I become more and more disfranchised with these places, especially for the robotic corporate approved playbook "customer service" these servers present. Seeing the head chef come out for a few words after a Top 5 meal of all-time for me, or the lovely bartendress in a dank basement-like one row bar screams of the originality I enjoy so much while plunking down a few coins for drinks or eats. These suburban hell-holes of bagged food and canned responses to your attempts at conversation (yes, my kids are cute, would you like to see what happens when I take their toys away pretty boy?) are squeezing out the local places that were a special treat while growing up.
Now, going out to eat is an ends to a means for a rushed family of four on some days with two parents who have full-time jobs trying to work-out, get homework done, go to swimming class, and if there's time maybe do some laundry before it becomes the new Mount McKinley of the United States. Sadly, that means limping into the Olive Garden/McDonald's/Arby's whatever closest to get food and get home to sleep. It's not everyday of course, as days of leisure are there for the kids to hop on pop and lean back for a beer and some poker but during the rush hour of family activities one would hope there was a better alternative to food than two McNugget happy meals to go.
Today, the last drips of adrenaline have left the body and a different kind of rush begins. The family rush kindles other feelings of love and affection than friends provide. Usually, but not always, the family doesn't leave your left arm immobile and a hand that looks like it got put through the roast beef slicer at Arby's. Battle wounds from this weekend will fade eventually, but memories will stay thanks to some talented folks taking pictures of the event.
A last thank you to those who's work in welcoming our band of professionals turned degenerates with the drop of an Al-sized SoCo shot to your hometown. It was a pleasure. Perhaps if the stars line up again, this time I'll find a roomie downtown despite the VERY comfortable bed and accomodations at the Haywood Hampton Inn. Great service besides housekeeping barging in a few times while someone who sleeps threadless was watching Sportscenter.
You can go grab the virtual eye bleach now.
Going out last night for a quick dinner at a local chain restaurant, I become more and more disfranchised with these places, especially for the robotic corporate approved playbook "customer service" these servers present. Seeing the head chef come out for a few words after a Top 5 meal of all-time for me, or the lovely bartendress in a dank basement-like one row bar screams of the originality I enjoy so much while plunking down a few coins for drinks or eats. These suburban hell-holes of bagged food and canned responses to your attempts at conversation (yes, my kids are cute, would you like to see what happens when I take their toys away pretty boy?) are squeezing out the local places that were a special treat while growing up.
Now, going out to eat is an ends to a means for a rushed family of four on some days with two parents who have full-time jobs trying to work-out, get homework done, go to swimming class, and if there's time maybe do some laundry before it becomes the new Mount McKinley of the United States. Sadly, that means limping into the Olive Garden/McDonald's/Arby's whatever closest to get food and get home to sleep. It's not everyday of course, as days of leisure are there for the kids to hop on pop and lean back for a beer and some poker but during the rush hour of family activities one would hope there was a better alternative to food than two McNugget happy meals to go.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Darwin's Drinking Game
"I have never been a millionaire, but I have enjoyed a great meal, a crackling fire, a glorious sunset, a walk with a friend, a hug from a child, a cup of soup, a kiss behind the ear. There are plenty of life's tiny delights for all of us."
-- Jack Anthony
It was a series of tiny delights and big laughs through the hours of degneracy that many bloggers took part of in this past weekend. No one walked, limped, or stumbled away from Greenville, SC that attended Mastodon Weekend without a story of fine dining, a quiet heart-to-heart talk, or losing a prop bet to the many gamblers that flew into this little-big town to awaken startled barkeeps with their penchant for good drink.
For myself, it was awakening taste buds to things never before tried like sushi at Azia (very good, and love the three rolls that found their way to my mouth), the deep fried shrimp with lime at Sharkey's Pub, and a crab cake (I needed a strategically placed cloth napkin after trying this delight at the beautiful Rick Erwin's West End Grill). Of course you need something to wash down the culinary delights, and Greenville's beer selection knocked me, well, not sideways but definitely tipped my tall frame less than perpendicular to the ground. The each bar visted had several beers beyond the Budweiser/Coors Light staples that sedated the beer snob in me. First prize however goes to Barley's Taproom. The sheer amount of Tripels and Quads in bottles and on tap was staggering as I was after hitting up a few of my favorites like the Koningshoeven Quad and Unibroue La Fin du Monde. While I didn't try the food, the beer helped fuel a few bar prop bets that apparently I won since Sunday morning there were several cringled bills in my right pocket.
While the food and drink accented things it was the people who made the weekend one of those that make every meeting of these generous friends memorable. The local organizers consisting of Otis, Badblood, The Mark, and G-Rob turned Greenville into a non-stop weekend party. The standing ovation count for The Mark's business connections nearly hit double digits as our private poker party on Friday night sponsored by the good people at Bustout Poker which included the lovely Nikki (who I will admit looked even better in person). The tournament was run professionally (my play could only be described as "putrid" but at least the Good Doctor and the actual Doctor kept me company while I folded an endless stream of 73o), and cash game that immediately followed with again the talented Greenville dealers and very attractive waitstaff that my eyes may have glanced at once than once. Or maybe they were looking at my shirt (photo credit to Pauly).
Saturday morning we got to do this:
GRob hosted this side trip to Timmons Park and was completely correct as to my non-Frolfing skillz. If you like money, find a way to get the idiot writing here to put a wager down on throwing pieces of plastic into chain coifed buckets. Although if hitting water, thorny bushes, or trees was the game I'm the next Nikko Locastro (that's a real Disc Golf champion BG). Now this isn't to be confused with hitting pool balls with a cue or throwing barroom shuffleboard, those games I'll gladly accept most challenges. But, outside the air and weather was a perfect backdrop to the upcoming bar crawl later that evening.
Hole 1: Blue Ridge Brewing
Hole 2: Smiley’s Acoustic Café (111 Augusta Street) 4:35-5:35pm
Hole 3: Chicora Alley (608 S. Main Street) 5:45-6:20pm
Hole 4: Oysters on the West End (11 W. Camperdown Way)6:30-7:30pm
Hole 5: The Gathering Spot (103 N. Main Street) 8:00-8:30pm
Hole 6: Meat Heads (109 N. Main Street Street) 8:30-9:40pm
Hole 7: Wild Wing Café (15 W. Washington Street) 9:45-10:45pm
Hole 8. Muraski (4 S. Main Street) 10:45-11:15pm
Hole 9: Connolly’s Irish Pub (24 E. Court Street) 11:30—Close
That was the original list but we were swarming so many bars I'd lost track, mainly due to women challenging me to drinking prop bets (which I let down my gender and lost EVEN AT SLAMMING A CAPTAIN AND COKE thus ripping my manhood from my gray BVDs!!!1111). But each place had a separate vibe, no chain bars here as I loved each one for it's originalty. The night and the party does have to end and as we closed down Connolly's for the third consecutive night there were the bloggers continuing to kick this party until the ugly lights were forced upon us at 2am. Rumors of air guitar being played in the side streets at 2:30am and certain near deaf bloggers actually having meaningful conversations in crowded bar are highly spectulative.
Once again I find myself here writing, knowing it will be awhile before getting to enjoy their company again, no amount of cash money that I have or will make can ever compare to what they have given me (you know who you are whether you'd like to admit it or not). Some more than others but all important, and if you'll excuse me it's getting dusty in here and there's some reading I need do catch up on.
-- Jack Anthony
It was a series of tiny delights and big laughs through the hours of degneracy that many bloggers took part of in this past weekend. No one walked, limped, or stumbled away from Greenville, SC that attended Mastodon Weekend without a story of fine dining, a quiet heart-to-heart talk, or losing a prop bet to the many gamblers that flew into this little-big town to awaken startled barkeeps with their penchant for good drink.
For myself, it was awakening taste buds to things never before tried like sushi at Azia (very good, and love the three rolls that found their way to my mouth), the deep fried shrimp with lime at Sharkey's Pub, and a crab cake (I needed a strategically placed cloth napkin after trying this delight at the beautiful Rick Erwin's West End Grill). Of course you need something to wash down the culinary delights, and Greenville's beer selection knocked me, well, not sideways but definitely tipped my tall frame less than perpendicular to the ground. The each bar visted had several beers beyond the Budweiser/Coors Light staples that sedated the beer snob in me. First prize however goes to Barley's Taproom. The sheer amount of Tripels and Quads in bottles and on tap was staggering as I was after hitting up a few of my favorites like the Koningshoeven Quad and Unibroue La Fin du Monde. While I didn't try the food, the beer helped fuel a few bar prop bets that apparently I won since Sunday morning there were several cringled bills in my right pocket.
While the food and drink accented things it was the people who made the weekend one of those that make every meeting of these generous friends memorable. The local organizers consisting of Otis, Badblood, The Mark, and G-Rob turned Greenville into a non-stop weekend party. The standing ovation count for The Mark's business connections nearly hit double digits as our private poker party on Friday night sponsored by the good people at Bustout Poker which included the lovely Nikki (who I will admit looked even better in person). The tournament was run professionally (my play could only be described as "putrid" but at least the Good Doctor and the actual Doctor kept me company while I folded an endless stream of 73o), and cash game that immediately followed with again the talented Greenville dealers and very attractive waitstaff that my eyes may have glanced at once than once. Or maybe they were looking at my shirt (photo credit to Pauly).
Saturday morning we got to do this:
GRob hosted this side trip to Timmons Park and was completely correct as to my non-Frolfing skillz. If you like money, find a way to get the idiot writing here to put a wager down on throwing pieces of plastic into chain coifed buckets. Although if hitting water, thorny bushes, or trees was the game I'm the next Nikko Locastro (that's a real Disc Golf champion BG). Now this isn't to be confused with hitting pool balls with a cue or throwing barroom shuffleboard, those games I'll gladly accept most challenges. But, outside the air and weather was a perfect backdrop to the upcoming bar crawl later that evening.
Hole 1: Blue Ridge Brewing
Hole 2: Smiley’s Acoustic Café (111 Augusta Street) 4:35-5:35pm
Hole 3: Chicora Alley (608 S. Main Street) 5:45-6:20pm
Hole 4: Oysters on the West End (11 W. Camperdown Way)6:30-7:30pm
Hole 5: The Gathering Spot (103 N. Main Street) 8:00-8:30pm
Hole 6: Meat Heads (109 N. Main Street Street) 8:30-9:40pm
Hole 7: Wild Wing Café (15 W. Washington Street) 9:45-10:45pm
Hole 8. Muraski (4 S. Main Street) 10:45-11:15pm
Hole 9: Connolly’s Irish Pub (24 E. Court Street) 11:30—Close
That was the original list but we were swarming so many bars I'd lost track, mainly due to women challenging me to drinking prop bets (which I let down my gender and lost EVEN AT SLAMMING A CAPTAIN AND COKE thus ripping my manhood from my gray BVDs!!!1111). But each place had a separate vibe, no chain bars here as I loved each one for it's originalty. The night and the party does have to end and as we closed down Connolly's for the third consecutive night there were the bloggers continuing to kick this party until the ugly lights were forced upon us at 2am. Rumors of air guitar being played in the side streets at 2:30am and certain near deaf bloggers actually having meaningful conversations in crowded bar are highly spectulative.
Once again I find myself here writing, knowing it will be awhile before getting to enjoy their company again, no amount of cash money that I have or will make can ever compare to what they have given me (you know who you are whether you'd like to admit it or not). Some more than others but all important, and if you'll excuse me it's getting dusty in here and there's some reading I need do catch up on.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Palmetto Dreamin'
In exactly 24 hours I will be boarding Flight 2340 eastward bound to the fabulous Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport (actually my friends who's a frequent flyer says this airport is one of the best in the country). From there, board a second plane owned by Air Canada where a discussion of Sidney Crosby's goal and is that cougar of a Curling skip available this weekend for late night drinks and walks inside downtown Greenville, SC.
As Freddy Mercury sang: "I want it all, and I want it now".
Color me blown away from the future festivities commencing in just one short day. While the documentation of such degeneracy is locked away for the moment being protected/audited by PriceWaterhouse Cooper watch your Twitter screens for updates on my attempts to relive the infamous wheelchair ride without the actual wheelchair. My twitter will be dark for the balance of the weekend due to not owning a smartphone but there may be a blog post or two should the Waffles House provide enough grease to soak up whatever I ingest amongst the bars of Greenville.
Most likely it will be a rickshaw I'm carted back to my room in because that's how G-Vegas rolls.
And since this is/was/will always be a personal blog about poker, there's a better than average chance of a poker-y recap here for ya'll liking that sort of thing. But, again those details will slowly seep out as the weekend rages on, like the soberity in my lanky Nordic form.
Quick note: I did pass the college placement test and will not be required to sit in an mouth-drooling sub-credit course. My guessing abilities during the grammar section were in Luckbox form and with my credits transferring over as I type this from Arizona State, there will be no Freshman Comp class to retake.
As mentioned, I will be seeking a journalism/media/writing course as I'd like some education behind the poker tournament reporting that is currently done at PokerStarsBlog and at some time in the future be considered as an underwriter/chip gatherer/just-happy-to-be-there live reporter (as a second job since being a cube monkey does have its perks). My eye is firmly on the next Minnesota State Poker Tour for that, as a small tournament with a tight group of rounder is perfect for me to get a feel for my friend's world-class reporting they do at sites like PokerNews and UB. Although the media dust up that F-Train recently had to go through while reporting at the recently finished (and very successful) NAPT Venetian was a bit concerning. Everyone has an opinion on the written word of other's, and frankly those opinions (good or bad) make for better writing because it challenges the author to at least think about what they penned. But when you read things out-of-context and throw unsubstantiated slander against a wall hoping to get it to stick and grab a quick chuckle from your posse at the expense of a hard working individual, kindly find a cliff and fall over the side (kudos to Bryan and Court for their apologies though).
With any luck your toxic ability to berate someone would cease after hitting every sharp rock on the way down. Use more decorum when speaking on a radio/podcast show, save those words for a dark corner out of the earshot of the causal observer or just go back to your forums and spew to a crowd that will continue to cheer you on because of your ability to calcuate pot odds and flip over piece of plastic and clay.
Yes, Drizz I'll get you that Captain and Coke with a side of leg
Photo Cred: Yahoo.news
Color me blown away from the future festivities commencing in just one short day. While the documentation of such degeneracy is locked away for the moment being protected/audited by PriceWaterhouse Cooper watch your Twitter screens for updates on my attempts to relive the infamous wheelchair ride without the actual wheelchair. My twitter will be dark for the balance of the weekend due to not owning a smartphone but there may be a blog post or two should the Waffles House provide enough grease to soak up whatever I ingest amongst the bars of Greenville.
Most likely it will be a rickshaw I'm carted back to my room in because that's how G-Vegas rolls.
And since this is/was/will always be a personal blog about poker, there's a better than average chance of a poker-y recap here for ya'll liking that sort of thing. But, again those details will slowly seep out as the weekend rages on, like the soberity in my lanky Nordic form.
Quick note: I did pass the college placement test and will not be required to sit in an mouth-drooling sub-credit course. My guessing abilities during the grammar section were in Luckbox form and with my credits transferring over as I type this from Arizona State, there will be no Freshman Comp class to retake.
As mentioned, I will be seeking a journalism/media/writing course as I'd like some education behind the poker tournament reporting that is currently done at PokerStarsBlog and at some time in the future be considered as an underwriter/chip gatherer/just-happy-to-be-there live reporter (as a second job since being a cube monkey does have its perks). My eye is firmly on the next Minnesota State Poker Tour for that, as a small tournament with a tight group of rounder is perfect for me to get a feel for my friend's world-class reporting they do at sites like PokerNews and UB. Although the media dust up that F-Train recently had to go through while reporting at the recently finished (and very successful) NAPT Venetian was a bit concerning. Everyone has an opinion on the written word of other's, and frankly those opinions (good or bad) make for better writing because it challenges the author to at least think about what they penned. But when you read things out-of-context and throw unsubstantiated slander against a wall hoping to get it to stick and grab a quick chuckle from your posse at the expense of a hard working individual, kindly find a cliff and fall over the side (kudos to Bryan and Court for their apologies though).
With any luck your toxic ability to berate someone would cease after hitting every sharp rock on the way down. Use more decorum when speaking on a radio/podcast show, save those words for a dark corner out of the earshot of the causal observer or just go back to your forums and spew to a crowd that will continue to cheer you on because of your ability to calcuate pot odds and flip over piece of plastic and clay.
Monday, March 01, 2010
March Calls For Lack of Snow and Stasis
Short and sweet.
Like the next three days are going to go because I selfishly demand it. The countdown to Mastodon Weekend in G-Vegas is getting tighter and tighter with every email received and the decision to go this year becoming easier and easier. When I hear a podcast from Gambling Tales or Dr. Pauly's much anticipated Lost Vegas book it stings that my friends come in the form of auditory bites instead of asking the stool next to me if they'd like another round (to the answer is: duh.). But, thanks to the awesome planning skills of such friends we get events around North America (that includes Canada of course, unless the border patrol shut things down after that hockey game to end all games. Seriously, even if you're not a hockey fan per se, the beautiful savage side of this lightning-quick sport should have drawn you your local Olympics carrier to watch in awe just how jaw-dropping the play can be. Congrats to our Northern friends for Team Canada's victory, may the fans in the U.S. be gracious in defeat as it was more about the nipple raising excitement and less about the color of the shiny metal disks around the player's necks).
Tangents. I love them.
Anyway, come Thursday I will be knee deep in mid 50s temperatures and bloggers as standing in three feet of snow no longer appeals to me for the reason that sane people shouldn't be subjected to not feeling their fingers for six months at a time **shakes tiny globial warming fist up Al Gore's acai berry colon-cleaned ass**. Should I see my shadow in a G-Vegas snowdrift, it would take some serious wheelchair-inducing drinking to prevent freaking the hell out. Not really. Just a conversation at a local bar with no national presence or handbook on how to sing Happy Birthday in a canned corporate manner. Bars with local flavors make the beer taste better and liquor flow smoother, as an aside story I remembered Otis posting about "buying local" more often and tried it this weekend:
My wife needed some Mike Light Hard Lemonade and there was a choice between going the same distance in opposite directions for the 12 pack. In one direction a well-known mega booze store that would certain have what she wanted, the other a smaller literal mom and pop shop that use to sponsor my mom's bowling team back in the days my terrorizing fellow kids for quarters in the Texa-Tonka Bowling Lanes arcade. With a turn down Bass Lake Blvd. I pulled into Princeton Liquors who's website design this one's ass sideways. Joel still mans the register, as I walked in with Kyra in tow to make the quick purchase and help set up for my father-in-law's birthday party. But, the spot where the 12 packs for the Light was empty as they only had 6-packs available which increased the cost $3. I pointed it out, and while Kyra was snacking on a Lemon flavored Dum-Dum sucker, he said "just grab two of em' and I'll take $2 off each one".
You sir have a repeat customer. Of course I've gone there several times in the past because their craft beer selection is one of the best in the state thanks his son Bill and because of the willingness to deal, they made an additional sale when I grabbed a bomber of Goose Island Demolition after Bill's suggestion. But, from now on if I want to grab a 12 pack for the wife I'll be heading north to the "older" section of Maple Grove versus the veener of the "newer" side.
Ok, this isn't going short and sweet despite banging away around 5,000 words at PokerStarsBlog last night. I took a college placement exam last night which was simple enough except for the fact there was zero study materials and I haven't taken a proper learning course since my final exams at NHCC in 1999. The grammar section was brutal, as you can tell by my sentence structure here over the years, grammar is not something I incorporate into a post, rather just letting the words stick where they may. I loathe the fact I may need to re-take Freshman Comp because of my butchering of this simple test. Not fun, but again neccessary to move forward with the academic return and a need to learn things versus skating by as done in the past.
And maybe that's why I take these trips, love my second job, and find myself one month removed from studying with kids half my age. The need to stretch, to develop friendship that wouldn't otherwise be possible, to challenge has finally bubbled back up after years of stasis it's time before my kids get into fifteen different activities to have that trampoline of education ready to bounce off of should the economy decide to continue its downward spiral. And who knows, maybe with a few writing courses you might get more readable junk here and online poker reporting at PokerStars.
Like the next three days are going to go because I selfishly demand it. The countdown to Mastodon Weekend in G-Vegas is getting tighter and tighter with every email received and the decision to go this year becoming easier and easier. When I hear a podcast from Gambling Tales or Dr. Pauly's much anticipated Lost Vegas book it stings that my friends come in the form of auditory bites instead of asking the stool next to me if they'd like another round (to the answer is: duh.). But, thanks to the awesome planning skills of such friends we get events around North America (that includes Canada of course, unless the border patrol shut things down after that hockey game to end all games. Seriously, even if you're not a hockey fan per se, the beautiful savage side of this lightning-quick sport should have drawn you your local Olympics carrier to watch in awe just how jaw-dropping the play can be. Congrats to our Northern friends for Team Canada's victory, may the fans in the U.S. be gracious in defeat as it was more about the nipple raising excitement and less about the color of the shiny metal disks around the player's necks).
Tangents. I love them.
Anyway, come Thursday I will be knee deep in mid 50s temperatures and bloggers as standing in three feet of snow no longer appeals to me for the reason that sane people shouldn't be subjected to not feeling their fingers for six months at a time **shakes tiny globial warming fist up Al Gore's acai berry colon-cleaned ass**. Should I see my shadow in a G-Vegas snowdrift, it would take some serious wheelchair-inducing drinking to prevent freaking the hell out. Not really. Just a conversation at a local bar with no national presence or handbook on how to sing Happy Birthday in a canned corporate manner. Bars with local flavors make the beer taste better and liquor flow smoother, as an aside story I remembered Otis posting about "buying local" more often and tried it this weekend:
My wife needed some Mike Light Hard Lemonade and there was a choice between going the same distance in opposite directions for the 12 pack. In one direction a well-known mega booze store that would certain have what she wanted, the other a smaller literal mom and pop shop that use to sponsor my mom's bowling team back in the days my terrorizing fellow kids for quarters in the Texa-Tonka Bowling Lanes arcade. With a turn down Bass Lake Blvd. I pulled into Princeton Liquors who's website design this one's ass sideways. Joel still mans the register, as I walked in with Kyra in tow to make the quick purchase and help set up for my father-in-law's birthday party. But, the spot where the 12 packs for the Light was empty as they only had 6-packs available which increased the cost $3. I pointed it out, and while Kyra was snacking on a Lemon flavored Dum-Dum sucker, he said "just grab two of em' and I'll take $2 off each one".
You sir have a repeat customer. Of course I've gone there several times in the past because their craft beer selection is one of the best in the state thanks his son Bill and because of the willingness to deal, they made an additional sale when I grabbed a bomber of Goose Island Demolition after Bill's suggestion. But, from now on if I want to grab a 12 pack for the wife I'll be heading north to the "older" section of Maple Grove versus the veener of the "newer" side.
Ok, this isn't going short and sweet despite banging away around 5,000 words at PokerStarsBlog last night. I took a college placement exam last night which was simple enough except for the fact there was zero study materials and I haven't taken a proper learning course since my final exams at NHCC in 1999. The grammar section was brutal, as you can tell by my sentence structure here over the years, grammar is not something I incorporate into a post, rather just letting the words stick where they may. I loathe the fact I may need to re-take Freshman Comp because of my butchering of this simple test. Not fun, but again neccessary to move forward with the academic return and a need to learn things versus skating by as done in the past.
And maybe that's why I take these trips, love my second job, and find myself one month removed from studying with kids half my age. The need to stretch, to develop friendship that wouldn't otherwise be possible, to challenge has finally bubbled back up after years of stasis it's time before my kids get into fifteen different activities to have that trampoline of education ready to bounce off of should the economy decide to continue its downward spiral. And who knows, maybe with a few writing courses you might get more readable junk here and online poker reporting at PokerStars.
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