Shamrocks and Blogger Shenanigans

In 2008 Carter "ckingusc" King was just about to take down the WCOOP Main Event for a lump sum that rivals what I may make for the next 20 - 25 years.  The WCOOP that year marked my first foray into actual poker reporting, the live blog we did had two shifts.  The first one was fairly easy as you'd work six hours and stop to be relieved by a second crew in the evening.  The second shift lasted much longer and required you to find some wit at 9am the next morning for the wrap.  I remember working a solid week and a half going to bed often at 8 or 9am and waking up a handful of hours later if slated for the afternoon coverage.

It was exhausting. 

And I loved every minute of it (especially when the prize at the end was meeting up with the equally tired boss man for Al's Bash and a for a sample of a Bash go to the master's site). For the first time I felt a part of something that required some skill, some creativity, something other than plunking numbers into spreadsheets and formulas.  There was a huge sense of pride regardless of the number of readers because it represented doing something I loved and getting paid to do it!

Fast forward thru my daughter exiting her crib and now demanding to be rocked to sleep by Big Time Rush (sigh) and a decision that leaves me in a similar state of hallucinations and confusion about what day it is it.  No, its not REX MANNING DAY, but rather March Madness which I've taken a preemptive strike and torn up my brackets while burning a few twentys that will make their way Otis' son's pocket before Wofford and Richmond break my heart (and wallet). 

Yes, yes we do

As of tonight after one more exam, I will have completed my first full year at college sans bong hits and 1800 Tequila Shot races that end with a body shot off a tri-delt (and with me finding a balcony to puke off of with two people making sure I don't flip over the edge because I'm smooth like that).  Granted it IS St. Patrick's Day and being a quarter of Irish blood I do owe a little bit to celebrate my Eire heritage with drink this evening.  But, instead of stumbling from The Local to Kierian's downtown among the ladies stretching the words "STARE AT MY TITS, I'M IRISH!!" across their chest that's covered with beads, LED-light shaped shamrocks, and plastic hats from Jameson.

No, instead I'll opt to losing my wits at home since this Anatomy and Physiology exam will most likely wipe whatever will power that is keeping this body upright at the moment because I can't feel a goddamn thing and while drunk women with bouncing chest distractions and friends is always a good time, a quiet whiskey on the back porch (with sweatshirt on, it's not that warm out) seems more approps today. 

As of right now, I feel like I'm sitting behind my laptop in the basement as I did three years ago, hitting "publish" one last time and feeling good about what was being sent.  Much like those long hours behind the keyboard writing about future poker millionaires, it's about pride and a future as I still love writing about poker three years later and I will have that college degree on my desk in two years.



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.

Fun With Forms in Triplicate

Brief personal going on then some pimping.

Yesterday I met with the guidance counselor over at Rasmussen College (yes, I know it's not a "big" school or even one with a lacrosse team, but considering my situation where the degree and knowledge, not to mention convenience factor, is more important than name brand it fits).  The accounting degree that is a scant three years away depending on whether some classes taken back when Clinton was in office will transfer.  Sitting in that office with the again attractive staff (it's a ploy isn't it?) I waffled hard as the dollar signs came out and the forced amount of credits needed to stay "active" so finanical aid would kick in if needed.

I thought with the smaller college she would be most equipped to handle a case like mine.  Sure, there was a script written out about all the wonderful resources and the like, but she kept giving me a sideways head turn like "what are you indecisive about, this is easy!".  Um, no.  My vision was "easy", signing papers for essentially a second mortgage minus the burly loan processor and partying like it's 1999 divorcee who conveniently forgot to tell us about the mold in the bathroom, fire hazard for a stove, and a driveway that resembled an active Mount Saint Helen crater hidden under the winter snow and ice and unable to inspect it.  My fairy tale of taking up books for knowledge was signing my name a few times and getting a student ID usable for $5 Timberwolves tickets and 1/2 lap dances at Rick's Cabaret on Tuesday night with a drink purchase.  Instead there was a minor flood of paperwork and sticker shock as to the cost of this endeavor.

It's all worth it.  Now that the path is clearer, less stressful as well.  Now to clean the Popov vodka and 10-pack of Taco Bell's excuses for tacos off my Arizona State transcript the amount of classes until that tassle goes up in my car will be solidified.

On to the pimping!

First up:  Lost Vegas is coming Lost Vegas is coming!  Hit up Pauly and Change 100's podcasts on the book many of us have been waiting for since the good doctor began the stories in the Redneck Riviera.

Episode 1 - Final Draft... The re-write is over and Change100 explains how she knew how/when Lost Vegas was finally done. She even tosses a Wonder Boys reference into the mix, while I remain moody and evasive.



Episode 2 - Lost Translation... Change100 and I discuss the French version of Lost Vegas, which is currently being translated by Benjo. Chapter 1 in French is complete and we figure out how my favorite (yet grossly overused term) "douchebag" gets properly translated.

Next up is the Gambling Tales Podcast which takes me to North Carolina each time I've been at the gym trying to catch up with Falstaff and Special K's musings on the world of gambling with a poker slant of course. Lee Jones, Dr. Pauly, and Tom Sexton are just a few of the great interview these two give with the feeling of sitting around a home game's table. Bonus is being able to listen to Short Stack Shamus whom puts up with my amateur hour during the live blogging at PokerStarsBlog

Of course Short Stack has his own podcast (which I regretfully haven't gotten to yet because I'm a techno-donk and just figured out that iTunes will automatically upload recent shows).

The MSPT is THIS week (not last week as I misunderstood up Mackey's note about staying up at Mille Lacs for nine days straight) I should I be vertical after going on another Surly Brewery tour on Friday, there will be a side trip up north to watch him and most likely Mileski compete in the $1,000 bracelet event for a bit. Well, at least until the Pai Gow tables call my name. Watch the Minnesota Poker Magazine's website for updates and photos.

And.... last but not least, this weekend is the huge $4 million guarantee Sunday Million at PokerStars as part of its 40 billionth hand promo (curse you RNG hit one of my tables!) Yours truly will be covering the action that will most likely have me up until work the next day. Your normal lovely scribe of the Sunday Million, Jen Newell will be joining up with Shamus and Otis for the kick-off NAPT pants party ON A BOAT with T-Pain as the NAPT Venetian starts this weekend.

Obligatory video:

That Look

There's no neon sign to tell you when thoughts are going to overtake the normal everyday grind.  Nor construction posts to point you in the direction of the next bumpy road to overcome.  Riding down Highway 101 to a previously small town that has exploded with urban growth over the years due to its proximity to the Mississippi and the gateway to the excellent fishing resorts up north, I spent the time watching the sprawl of what was a quiet dirt road one shutter seasonal produce shop with chipped paint, now a full-sized year-round greenhouse with "activities" like a corn maze and pedal car track.

The night was to support a singer, an 19 year old daughter of my wife's co-worker.  She was playing a set list of popular soft country, soft rock songs along with original tunes stenciled down in lavender pen with the torn edgings from a tattered notebook.  The guitar was brand new, a gift from the doting mother and father who sat seven feet away hanging on to each of her notes the filled the 3/4th empty upper-scale bar.  The set up was small, taking up no more than corner as patrons slowly finished their tall Grain Belts hardly paying mind to woman by the smoking exit belting out hand strummed music.

While only a few kids and drink slingers at the bar took most than a few seconds to stop and listen, her parents mouthed the words to each song as they were no strangers to the "stage".  This isn't what one envisions in a day and age "American Idol" and "Coyote Ugly".  Just have a decent voice, nice body that doesn't have people running for eye bleach, and you're on your way to that seven figure contract and private jet flying you around to perform in every Hooter's location until that first album warrants a real tour.  Or maybe that closet-like space to play is the life for these musicians, as I've never been exposed to the local scene found in City Pages filled with bands and singers who are insurance adjusters by day, dreamers of the microphone by night.

When I saw her parents looks I remember getting the same look from my parents only it was a baseball field or a hockey game when their son's lanky buck-nothing frame managed to weave around a defense for a goal.  A sense of pride.  While my dreams of stepping onto Fenway with mom and dad in the stands died with a thud after a mid-80s fastball couldn't impress the scouts enough, a different direction was needed.  For years there was no direction, then the road changed completely with marriage and kids.  No more late-night volleyball and softball benders as they were replaced by mortgage payments and potty training.  No more freedom to just step in another direction and go as there were others to consider before my selfish decisions.

This Friday in the office of a small college with a counselor and cute Mimi Driver look-alike finanical aid rep with the Minnesotan accent (I declined to ask if she was auditioning for the sequel to "Fargo"), a new path will be set with the blessings of those most affected (ok grammar nazis did I use it right?) in the future.  And as Lindsay finished up her first set and my passable tall Samuel Adams Seasonal reached its bottom there's a renewed interest to see my parents in the stands with that look in their eyes but instead of Jofa-branded helmet or Osseo Orioles baseball cap uptop of my head, it will be an overpriced slate of cardboard with a tassle that will hang from my rear-view until my wife tells me to stop acting 18 and take it down.  

Sick Food, Sicker Beats

Yesterday I got the stark reminder that physics laws also apply at the poker tables.  In short order after a night of the real flop sweats thanks to a contaminated discount Banquet frozen chicken strip meal, there went table profits from the past two weeks.  Filtered thru the spinning tables of Full Tilt's Rush Poker and making some poor tilty decisions while mulit-tabling NLO8 games on PokerStars gone was the bloat my bankroll took and promptly placed back at square one before the feast of chips.

What once went up, came down with a thud but there would be a better feeling about it if ALL of the decisions were good ones instead of focusing on two "beats" and left shaking a tiny fist at the poker gods for those light percentages coming in.  Holes pepper my game in this regard as this is just as important as reading players and boards to make a correct decision.  Instead of losing four buy-ins yesterday, I could have been down just two due to making right moves and not turning into a turtling calling station.

Instead we move on, we learn, we look forward to things seeing the college counselor and financial aid folks tomorrow who will hopefully have some good news to obtaining some Obama bucks in pursuit of academic enrichment.  While not counting on such things, it would help not to have to pay for this degree as long as the first one which took 14 years to pay off.  Then again, a bachelor's degree should stretch a tad longer than my associates one as I soon found out after bouncing off the corporate glass ceiling enough times to leave an imprint of my 6'4" frame on the clear pane.

After watching yet another workgroup go down to "cuts", it was time to secure or at least increase my chances of hitting the ground running should one of these impromptu meetings center around my current department.  Having extra skills in the workplace besides the ability to cover poker tournaments and count poker hand outs faster than most people will prove to be essential in the future.  Far from saying I'm giving up on poker reporting as to tell you the truth (and I have many times) if the income ever warranted it and steady enough work, I would be in heaven rehashing some 22 year old math savant's rise to the latest cover of Bluff magazine after winning a WPT title just two months after taking down the Sunday Million.

But, even if the call came down the pipeline, school is the itch that needed to be rubbed the right way and I could use some knowledge beyond the latest Entertainment Tonight or Yahoo's 10 most searched topics which today are:

1. Benicio Del Toro (always liked him in Miami Vice)
2. Airport Delays (if this happens in three weeks expect another news story from MSP about an irate passenger being restrained)
3. Taliban (who doesn't enjoy reading about terrorist!)   
4. Kobe Bryant (no, he kept it in his shorts this time)
5. Ghostbusters III (Hell and YES!  Time to break out the Ray Parker Jr.?  I think so!)



6. American Idol (Ellen gets a ticket, but who wears the dress when she brings a date to hollywood?)
7. Chicago Auto Show (um, shouldn't Tara Reid in Playboy, Lohan, Brittany, or Paris be somewhere on this list?)
8. Charles Wilson (unfortunately I do not follow politics but my condolences)
9. Olympic Skeleton (personally I would have gone for the Lindsay Vonn in the swimsuit edition, but fast sleds make for just as good pleasure.  Just a different kind that doesn't involve peppermint lotion)
10. Crib Recall

No Reggie Bush getting treated to a naked Karadashian sandwich on the balcony of Bourbon street?  Lame.

Back to the Nerdery

Wife approved. The long road to CPA certification begins.

Barring some horribly bad news from the college conselor on Friday, I officially become a college student again at the ripe age of 35 by the end of the week.

Hopefully the Tri-Delts are in need of someone who can buy beer :) TOGA TOGA TOGA!!

Oh, and I'd like to thank the makers of Banquet frozen dinners for the 15 hour nap I took since 2pm yesterday while twisting and turning like a fish out of water and a Rappala triple hook in my stomach. Usually pride myself on an iron gut but those imitation chicken strips knocked me out of commission faster than a blown tranmission.