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.



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 :)