2011: The Search for Perry

Fresh year, fresh quarter of school, and fresh snow for all!  Including our friends in G-Vegas who unfortunately lack the snow removal tools to deal with the white, slippery stuff.  It's a sliding scale of course as people in the northern states and Canada-land are used to the delays, hourly shovelling, and the bitter cold of the winter months whereas those south of the Mason-Dixon line may not have city wide plows, salting trucks, and a general tolerance for such weather.

 image credit

Dead birds, mass flooding, and the Packers somehow winning a playoff game have the conspiracy/Armageddon nut cases in a frenzy as 2012 approaches.  If the world is ending prior to my 2013 graduation from college (current GPA a double flex worthy 3.98, ladies form the line to the right, I've been told there's plenty for everyone) why not party it up?

This year will be busy if not more than last year when I stretched myself to the limits by returning to school on top my daily routine which tires most people out just reading it.  The plan is to stay the course, continue to find pockets of fun underneath the wave of swimming lessons and Income Tax code books that outweighs a pan of lasagna for 10.

Last year took me to G-Vegas for Mastodon Weekend which was the perfect kick off for returning to school.  A weekend without my fingers being frozen while waking up, bars that don't force their employees to wear flare and served awesome beers, and most of all like-minded friends who shared themselves and dropped their professional suits in the garbage bin full of empty Yuengling bottles and strapped on the degeneracy wear to tear up downtown Greenville. 

There was making sure I had the funds for such hijinks as I helped out the PokerStarsBlog for the PokerStars SCOOP and WCOOP tournaments, trading regular sleep patterns for final table wraps about people winning six, even seven figures online.  My love for cards and watching the action got me thru the wee-hours of the morning and kissing the wife go to work at six a.m. and finishing up while dishing out Fruit Loops and bacon for the kids.  Reporting on poker is something that gives me a little extra spark as my regular job lacks forward thinking and being able to shove a few puns and use active thinking while writing helps bring some energy to a rather drab cubical life. 

Then the circus came into town for a Twins game, golf, and gallons of Surly Furious as Gentle Summit invaded downtown Minneapolis where we got Speaker and his newly minted lovely wife Emet addicted to the local brew.  StB sailed in from Milwaukee and DonkeyPuncher found the ability to board a plane semi-sober and stumble down Hennepin avenue with us.  I was lucky enough not kill everyone with my "sunglasses at night" trip from Canterbury Park and even walked away with enough money to cover the weekend's lap dances and Drizz drooling over 2am beers and wings expenses.  This summer however I vow to best Speaker on the golf course despite having the inability to swing a club for the next five months and will remember not to partake in that seventh NewCastle on the back 9.

After our usual kick-ass summer at the cabin/trailer, the fall months quickly brought December and my month to unwind from a stressful year.  Birthday, WPBT, four day weekends, New Year's parties, two weeks off of school, basically an off-loading of every deadline, every six page double spaced paper with appropriate APA formatting and reference page, every "I DONT WANT TO EAT THAT!!!!1!!!", every argument with my better half who I lean on more than I should but she stands tall despite being a foot shorter than I.  Every inch of stress gone, ready to reload for 2011 as the only memory still not on paper is the kick ass Black Crowes concert that may be Truckin' worthy once I finish it.

2011 brings something to look forward to versus something to be endured.  I've already hit the ground running with a spring break trip in the works, and a long time friend dropping in from Philly to make sure I get my alcohol and poker quotient in for the month year.  If I survive the AlCantHang experience again, you'll read it here.

Minneapolis Summit 2010

I'd like to thanks the folks who dropped by our humble little state this weekend and experienced just how quickly the weather can change here.

By numbers if your will...

Number of miles on my car:  234
Number of miles driven with prescription sunglasses on at night:  37
Number of miles that I should have stayed downtown:  13
Number of dollars won at PAI GOW at Canterbury Park:  350
Number of dollars my wife gets to see:  0
Number of Newcastles while golfing with Speaker and Edinburgh USA:  5
Number of Newcastles I should have had:  3
Number of strokes on the front nine:  47
Number of strokes on the back nine:  yeah about that many
Number of lost golf balls on Edinburgh USA's signature 17th:  4
Number of former volleyball teammates with third nipples I ran into downtown:  1
Number of hours of I was unaccounted for Friday night:  2
Number of slices of Pizza Luce's signature pizza I had:  9
Number of lesbians met:  5
Number of Sarah McLachlan songs Donkeypuncher sang with the lesbians:  2
Number of consecutive games of cornhole won:  11
Number of visits to Sexworld:  1
Number of visits to Sexword that I remember:  0
Number of longest drive on Saturday at Theo Wirth (in yards):  342
Number of times I flexed afterwards:  3
Number of final winning score at Theo Wirth:  94
Number of visits this year to downtown prior to Summit:  2
Number of trips downtown this weekend:  6
Number of chicken wings consumed from Runyon's on Wednesday night:  23
Number of mustache rides offered by women:  2
Number of dollars won by fading A's rookie Chris Carter:  5
Number of beers consumed on Friday:  dont ask
Number of Captain n' Cokes consumed on Friday:  *whistles*
Number of friends I'll miss until December rolls around:  too many

Come back soon folks, even if it's while here on business for a quick slice at Pizza Luce or a pint.

Turning a double play

Poker news:

YMCA and KFAN are teaming up for a charity poker tournament at St. Croix Hotel and Casino this Saturday (June 20th) at 2:00pm. For the low-low price of $100 ($70 tax deductable) you can get to take on fellow KFAN Rubes as well as radio personalities (my guess is Cory Cove aka Sludge from my favorite morning show "The Power Trip" will be there). Check out the link here for more details as well as pre-registration for the event.

I'd be all over this but my wife had something else planned with good friends. An afternoon at Canterbury Park without the kids will have to do :) Horse racing and cards are activities readily approved by the author here and I'm guessing a Lennie's Honey Weiss or six will find their way into my hands. While we'll miss the weiner dog races on Father's Day, but there's nothing like rooting on a 11-1 shot on the rail versus having to watch a simulcast.

Related story to my adventures below Baseball talk:

Former Cubbie Sammy Sosa took PEDs. My reaction? *yawn*.

This continued leak of information that was supposed to be sealed should get more attention. If a record is sealed or expunged the person taking the test or on the receiving end of a punishment due to bad judgement about bringing a bottle of Popov vodka in a dormatory room under aged and not using his head that the older looking "kids" are actually undercover cops, shouldn't have to worry about such things as that coming back to haunt them.

Unless of course one were stupid enough to write about it in a blog post, luckily we don't have such lack of intelligence around these parts.

Yes, A-Rod and Sosa, though scummy enough to deny all the allegations for five/six years, deserved the shield of protection they signed up for when the initial testing took place in 2003. And the Hall of Fame ballot in 2013 might contain the most difficult choices:

Sandy Alomar Jr., Tony Batista (HAHAHAHA), Craig Biggio, Barry Bonds, Jeff Cirillo, Royce Clayton, Roger Clemens, Jeff Conine, Steve Finley, Julio Franco, Shawn Green, Roberto Hernandez, Ryan Klesko, Mike Lieberthal, Kenny Lofton, Jose Mesa, Damian Miller, Eric Milton, Russ Ortiz, Mike Piazza, Reggie Sanders, Curt Schilling, Aaron Sele, Sammy Sosa, Mike Stanton, Jose Valentin, Todd Walker, David Wells, Rondell White (HAHAHAHA), Bob Wickman, Woody Williams

The laughter is for the Twins picking up those two in their gray years for ineptitude unseen since I took the hill versus Cold Springs in 1993 and managed to give up a game-winning home run to the number nine batter.

Only three non-juiced players I see have a better than average shot. Craig Biggio should be a lock, Mike Piazza's vagina lost votes didn't charge Clemens after getting a bat thrown at him but one of the best catchers in the game should warrant a nod, and Curt Schilling's bloody sock should squeeze in based on his rings and K's, not his blog. Bonds, my former idol Clemens, and Sosa will face the purists wall of old sportwriters that remember 5 cent packs of Pall Malls and Budweiser while Pee Wee Reese ruled shortstop.

Whoa, didn't mean for the tangent to go so far.

Forgot how much I miss the game and being a fan sometimes while the everlasting hussle of being a parent is going on. With hope there will be a game for my son and daughter to enjoy while in the new open air Target Field or my current favorite is catching a St. Paul Saints game at Midway and tailgating while the rustle of a freight train going by every 30 minutes.

Tomorrow, maybe the next day country bars, beer gardens, ass grabbing, and rooftop Wrigley views. Not in that order as all were equally fun last weekend. Who doesn't like chatting about NYC bar room brawls with a tat'd up ex-con and the sexual mindset of married women with a bachlorette party at 2am with a live band cranking out Fishing in the Dark while holding a clear Solo cup full of beer.

I know I do.

Yes, the hick vibe was thick at that bar and it reminded me of dozens of places you could find lined up in Northern Minnesota minus a lake record-setting small mouth bass hanging on the wall, but wow what a way to cap off another great weekend in Chicago with friends.

More tomorrow.

The Sound of Friendship

“Why did you wait so long?”

This past weekend I spent in the company of friends, not a blogger meeting/gathering but with friends. A group of similarly minded yet diversified folks from all sarcastic ranges and abilities to bring their own flavor to the party.

The drive to and from Chicago was not for the weary and luckily my pilot Chad was willing to take the helm since I made the similar trek last year. One thing was set that next time we’re getting our damn airline tickets early. There are only so many cheese houses and spots to purchase beer lube (not the kind you consume or put on a squeaky brake pad, we opted not to delve further as to its proper use fearing for The Gimp to come out of the basement) along I-90/I-94 to keep people interested. Granted the weather was beautiful and the countryside painted with a lush green with spotted bovines enjoying a quick summer nap, but the itch to get to our destination both ways was a bit much. The arrival trip was sedated by a trip to a micro-brewery in Lake Mills, WI which served up some tasty IPAs and nut brown ales.

Once arrived with StB in tow from Milwaukee, the first night was spent cracking some Surlys and other fine beverages at the condo, followed by a trip down to The Beer Bistro. Downtown bar with a back-side of a menu covered with beer and an inside with good nibbles to tame the late-night hunger. Very classy, comfortable, with a private back table, waitresses with a decent knowledge of the selection, and a friendly owner who shocked my system with a shot of rye last consumed here with my grandfather at the family cabin after a double skunk in cribbage.

Back to the spacious condo overlooking the Menard’s plant and a decent view of the skyline it was time to attempt some sleep before golf in the morning.

Nothing like waking up to the smell of coffee, granted I do not imbibe in the beverage but I do enjoy the smell. Thanks to The Rooster who’s second office was located within the coffee king’s logo, there were apple fritters and cups of java waiting for the early threesome to hit up the links. Myself, Chadarama, and our generous host for the weekend DP were set to play nine holes at Sydney R. Marovitz. The views of the lake with the marina in full flock, and the hotties jogging its perimeter made up for the not-yet-ready-for-the-PGA display of golfing talent (minus a 300+ yard blast from my driver and a 35 double breaker putt sunk by DP) being displayed by us three. Despite DP taking lowest score, I managed to snag 7 of 9 skins for prop betting goodness. Money > Ego

Next up it was time to find the rest of the crew at The (Re)Publican sharing a cab with the lovely Maigrey. I only briefly remembered the name of the restaurant and added fiscally restraining policies to its name by mistake. Bad government actions naming aside, Bobby Bracelet holding on to the ten known as Elizabeth and his brother BG were coming out of a corner bar ready to get our foodies on with some high-class carvings.

“Why did you wait so long?”

Hearing BG and Grubby (who was forcefully removed from a Star Trek nickel slot earlier in the evening after he ranted to security about not receiving one bonus game for the past two hours) describe the different dishes on the large piece of parchment and StB mentioning Van Halen currently providing ambiance music was something that reaffirmed my decision to kill most of my poker bankroll and turn it into life. Who wouldn’t want to hear a chef’s description of the Potee or a food lover’s suggestions on the spicy pork rinds (which did kick much ass). All for a little cash, yet I waited several years due to an lingering memory of junior high, to a head injury, to this and that, excuses that flowed out more than believing something was missing and needed to be filled. And finally it did, in the form of wax injected into my ear canal for the purpose to bringing the elegant restaurant and all its patrons into life.

For the story about the ganked bone marrow and competition between the brothers to one-up the waitress that had zero sense to the fun, I’ll need to defer the floor to them. After the top three dinners in my life, we headed once again to The Beer Bistro for a nightcap of good beer for most, while Bobby Bracelet insisted I get my northern cred in for the weekend and drink a can of Hamms and PBR without inviting me to a tractor pull or demolition derby.

I do want to pick up the story tomorrow as the post is bit long for today, for the Twins/Cubs game (Mauer power!), seeing CJ and past co-workers and softball teammates at random bars, lesbian bar revival, and listening to Garth Brooks live at 2am while downing a free Cap’n Coke from a female Cubs fan. But the introspective on that above question was rang my rum soaked head more than few times last weekend and while I was returning home from softball with a dab of rain hitting the minivan along Country Road 30 last night.

“Why did I wait so long?”

Brad Childress is a woman

Sorry but one last post before many Surly products find their way across the Wisconsin border.

Chilly, the toolbox is full in Minnesota. Please stop. Make up your mind on what you want for your team and stick with it or I'm shipping an economy size Midol bottle and a box of heavy Carefree with wings to Winter Park when I get back

I'm off to root for the Twinkies this weekend in my sparkling new Mauer jersey. Hopefully the bleacher bums will let me keep it.

You're the Inspiration

Since I currently own nothing more than a phone that struggles to receive text messages and routinely runs out of memory while taking pictures, this is a placeholder for the next five days. It will take in dial-a-shots however.

It's time to adventure to a city that contains more people than this state twice over and I hear there's even places within this city that willingly serve you beer.

To my friends on media row at the WSOP, stay strong.

Poker From the Rail
Dr. Pauly
Pokerati
Wicked Chops Poker
PokerNews.com
Pokerlistings.com
Poker Stars Blog
Ulimate Bet Blog/

Its hard hearing about the conditions there that looked to be improving from last years fun-fest to this year's suck-fest for the media at least. How about the players? Any word on improved seating, rules, happy endings table massages, less kangaroo meat in the beef, Jack Links Jerk-off contests?

That's 18 days to touch down at Mandalay Bay where I'll spend my first five to six hours writing up in my room for PokerStarsBlog (Turbo Takedown and Battle of the Planets promos), then the plan is to crack a smile into the thousand-yard stares of those hard-working bloggers at the Rio. Prehaps even sneak in a quick session at the PLO8 cash game if its running.

But, tomorrow's plan is to enjoy the Wisconsin countryside, eat some cheese curds, drink some decent beer, flick off every Packer fan in site, pick up a Brewers' fan, and head down to Chicago for face boners, poker, baseball, and enjoy friends that can only manage to meet once or twice a year (actually my liver and wallet is thankful for this).






Side note: 1Queens Up1 mentioned checks are flowing from FTP, any word on the PokerStars situation? I heard a bonus was offered to those who's checks were denied, but since that would kinda-sorta hinder my plans to hitting up a decent dinner or two in Vegas I'd need a little more info before transferring my paycheck out.

Changing From Nyquil to Peppermint Lotion

I can have posts from 2004? If I'd found myself writing the below dreck now, there would be a paddleboard in hand to firmly knock some sense into the left side of my face.

Seven are supposed to be lucky, right? You get three 7s on a slot machine and you've won a jackpot! After 3 seventh place finishes in 3 SnGs last night had me on tilt. KK in EP, 4xBB raise, re-raised all in by.... AJo (Ace hits the turn). Sigh. JJ in LP, push all in to get called by.... 78s, flush flops. Sigh. QJo and a board of Q - J - 6 rainbow. Bet, get raised, I push, he flips over J6o YEAH! But a 6 hit the turn. Sigh.

Bad night and I didn't help things by pushing with pocket 8s from EP early in another SnG. I think the advice about playing when you feel like shit should be taken more literaly. I've been snapping at the wife, she snaps back, I take more Nyquil, tilt away some money, no one wins. Tonight I'll be resting and no poker. Hopefully I'll refreshed enough to hit the tables a little bit tomorrow.

One thing jumped out as I went down ghey blog memory road, lots of "fighting, snapping at wife" comments. This typing thing was/is/will be my public clinic therapy. Except without the chlamyida and gonorrhea soup on the seats while waiting for your number to be called two hours later. While the effects of the accident have almost vanished, so has the broken glass shards me and wife used to waddle around in at home. Next time I decide to be on the receiving end of blunt force trauma, I'll phone ahead to the spouse and let her know her Webble has returned and to jump on and enjoy the ride.

Seriously, would you let your husband fly off to Chicago for a weekend of Debbie Gibson wake-up calls and downing a 12 pack of beers overlooking Wrigley Stadium while surrounded by hotties? Sure the day to day stuff isn't exciting as I spent two hours yesterday pleading with the two tax deductions to kindly allow me to retain whatever is left of my hearing by not crying loud enough to drown out even Warthog's nightly mating calls.

I may not be lucky at cards or at avoiding large falling objects, but I found a keeper at home.

Like A Knife Thru Cheese

Doctor's visit put a little scare into my day, but has turned out ok. I thought I had done a little ACL damage a few months ago but still played regularly despite limping all seven innings like a passive fish in a cash game.

No damage. Take some Advil and call me in two weeks. Rung better then words like "surgery" and "scope".

On second thought I don't know if I'll write up the rest of the weekend in Chicago. Time plus the inability to snag the words I want to describe things like having a Chicago Pan Pizza at the lesbian bar that hit every good feeling nerve while soaking up about two gallons of beer, might just have to stay inside my small mind.

Gentile Summit 2008: Prelude

Memories are made from the unusual, and formed from events within. Being blessed with an understanding wife and friends from the across the different climates, I’ve picked up some memories (fuzzy perhaps) that will be folklore for my own mind later in life while sitting on a porch with a beer in hand and looking out at the ninth hole that has a slight dogleg to the left and bunkers protecting the cloverleaf shaped green.

It amazes me how people with such different backgrounds and lives can gather for 48-72 hours and produce memories that will stick for me as I put my daddy polo shirt back on and resume working within the confined walls of security. Starting out with Chadarama along I-94 heading towards picking up StB in the rat trap maze of detours in downtown Milwaukee, there was mass construction and rain that only delayed my first shouts of PAI GOW! The Potawatomi casino lies in the heart of Milwaukee and gave the first memories of the weekend. A straight-shooting Midwest waitress with several years on her telling me to take the nipple off my last Miller Lite of the night before she takes it away while hitting up the $3/$6 table started the weekend off right.

Poker was reason why this blog was given life and live poker didn’t disappoint with distinct personalities around the table which is why I still love to play this game. The calling station old guy, who had to ask with a voice box tone and assistant to Dr. Frankenstein looks if the action was on him with every street, needed to have the board to read to him if he didn’t have the nuts. The playa with $600 in whites and sideways straight brimmed hat, who proclaimed he was playing for 24 hours straight (this of course prompted me to ask for $1,000 in checks, but I fought the urge to whip out my swinging dick). The aggressive Asian who’s perfectly aligned 40 chip towers were built for superiority and didn’t appreciate half-awake half-deaf poker bloggers calling him down while he showed second pair and losing to a slightly higher pair. The gregarious suit on my left that had a different story for everything, including being a world-class athlete back in 1973 that possibly nailed every upper-crust lady that floated in from the piers of Lake Minnetonka towards the shoreline restaurant he worked at.

After a few hours of puttering around with cards it was time to crash for the evening and gear up for the bulk of the weekend in the Windy City…. (to be continued)

The Worm Returns to Waveland Avenue

But can he breakdance? (image from ESPN.com)

Perhaps a proper write-up after I collect my wits again from the liver destroying weekend in Chicago. But, a hearty thank you to the gracious host DP who's home did indeed smell like ass and beer Sunday morning as the gatorade was passed out to sober up for the ride home.

No homo.

Edit: The Rooster does not sleep, he waits with his eyes closed

Travelocity Icon Goes to Day 3 in the WSOP Main Event

Poor Iggy, may be getting his mug in a picture or TV soon.

GOOD LUCK ON DAY 3!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm outta here, heading down I-94 and I-90 to Milwaukee this afternoon for a prelude to Gentile Summit 2008. And I may or may not be wearing too much Drakkar Noir tomorrow :)

When Is Nap Time?

Please remove the doom switch sometime soon m’kay?

Thank you.

Since poker has decided to slap me around like the trout out of water that I am, I have been adverting my attention to the plethora of other things going on (this is fancy talk for I run bad/I suck/I’m whining like a two year old that just can’t catch a break or got taken home from the park before I was ready to go).

Iggy. Main Event. Be sure to follow the wee-one’s size 1/8th footsteps (here and here) towards poker glory and possible sponsorship from Travelocity should he be anointed as the last midget left in the tournament by ESPN. Not as splashy or as hot as the “last woman in the tourney” as Maria Ho last year (but loved the rail pic from Wicked Chops this year, YAO!) but should he get railbirds like that I'm sure Wicked Chops will be happy to supply a few photos of the top of his head.

Gentile Summit is a mere 36 hours away from a drive down I-94 and I-90 towards Milwaukee to meet up with with StB at Potawatomi casino for a night cap of drinks and donkey poker before moving onto a sober weekend of watching Days of Our Lives and Golden Girls re-runs while playing Bridge and sipping on prune juice with more imaginary internet friends.

Three weeks after that is my annual guys weekend at the trailer/cabin for more late discussions of raising gas prices and possible war in Iran along with a few 18th century literary dissections over tea and crumpets. Fun.

Plus my boy’s first T-ball game next week, and since I’m selfish this is what I’m looking forward to the most. Prepare for cuteness and pictures.

Edit: Just checked since I use Yahoo... Google seems to have issues with this site as well. Who gave them the right to play internet police?

Edit to the Edit: Why the big labeling of "Professional Poker Player" in this sex ring bust story from CBS13? And no mentions of his inability to play pocket 8s in middle position while facing a raise?

Lazy Fireworks

Sunday Million write up in the books.

I'm enjoy a little .25/.50 PLO after destroying a bacon omelet with enough fatty content to slow down an Olympic athlete's blood flow.

Even though "holiday" means time off work, it does not mean time to lounge around in boxer shorts watching 3.5 episodes of Sportscenter while tooling the LAG in the four seat and letting her spew chips with the same intensity of the last hooker on the Amazon room floor without a sorry sap to do the walk of shame back up to their rooms to console their tired souls with a well rehearsed blow job.

Clean the house, clean the trailer, clean ass, all duties that are fine to perform to make the family wheel run but its time-outs like these that make my vacation hours earned at work worth every TPS report I pour through.

Gentile Summit in three days. Hope my right hook will still put the host to shame for losing to a waif like me.

Somebody Needs a New Hobby

This is news? I cry everytime my Aces get cracked and when Lindsay Lohan is not on TMZ, do I get a feature in the local rag?

An open letter to Brett Farve:

Brett,

I would most welcome your return for one game to the National Football League. Your intensity for the game would warm the coals of competition between our two clubs. Remember playing Tecmo-Bowl as a kid and how Lawrence Taylor just flew by the offensive lineman like they just ate a twenty pound bowl of General Tso's chicken with fried rice and a dozen cream cheese wontons?

That's me.

Re-think this "return" before you end up babbling about getting hit by a purple bus while doing easy sudoku puzzles hopped up on vicodin and PBR on the back porch of your home.

Sincerely,
*Jared Allen

**In related news John Madden is currently at home wacking off to Farve's appearent return while spamming the refresh button of ESPN.com in hopes that half of his in-game material will return to play.

Cabin life for me this weekend, maybe a little live poker to write home about. Gentile summit, 8 days, manliness about to run wild on Chicago and aspiring tennis pro DP will be there too. Peace.



* He should write this letter

** Would he use regular crisco or butter flavored