Also, not a post.
Finals week.
WCOOP reporting.
Three soccer games.
Annual golf outing with father-in-law.
By Sunday.
It's a Red Bull hold the vodka week until Saturday night/Sunday morning when WCOOP Event #39 H.O.R.S.E. finishes up in the wee hours of the morning and it is time to relax (well, until next Wednesday and start over again).
I was told I could sleep when I die, I just hope not to die sleeping. Work hard, play harder, make sure you have a luggage rack/wheelchair to get you home.
Nighters.
Showing posts with label WCOOP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WCOOP. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
On the Road to Danbury
If you told me four years ago I would still be blogging and sometimes getting paid for it there's a good chance my off-key laugh would have been directed towards your face. If you told me I would be writing a six-to-eight page research paper for an advanced composition class that I asked to be in, on the path to a bachelor's degree, I'd ask for a hit of whatever you were smoking.
Despite the next four weeks being the most crammed, stressful, busy, in-need-of-a-clone time of the year, this space is needed to let the air out of my belly before everything besides my appendix and bruised liver bursts. This blog feels like a neglected puppy, cowered in a corner from lack of touch versus abuse, just wanting someone warm to cuddle up with and maybe tell him a story while in a lap on the back deck and a late summer's breeze drifts over both of them.
In the mist of this presidental-like schedule there are places to carve out tax cuts for the rich and relief from stress. "Honey, I'm going into town". Didn't take much as school provides education and a reason to seek WiFi during our weekends up north. The drive is under 15 miles and seems too short when the weather cooperates. A single gas station on the right with a selection of porn better fit for SexWorld in downtown Minneapolis, the family golf cart dealership where the wife has been eyeing half of my scant poker bankroll for a cart with a backseat rigging so the kids could comfortably get shuttled from the cabin/trailer to the pool and the clubhouse for the best dollar ice cream this side of Coldstone.
Passing the unseen town of Swiss with a sign leaning back like a limbo dancer, probably caused by the straight-line winds that still show their destructive forces in the small town of Danbury that was my destination. The "Welcome to Wisconsin" is a awesome sight for someone who stupidly ran out of beer and ththankfully the cheeseheads have no blue laws on the books to keep me from enjoying one more day of sun and suds. As the first turn into town there's "Stubbs Fireworks" which I can't tell if its the proprietor's name or an unfortunate moniker from an M-80 mishap.
After the bend the new St. Croix Casino (formerly Hole in the Wall casino, which was a dead ringer for what is was, desperate gamblers and slot machines inside of connected trailers) stood tall at the end of road just past the four block stretch of the town.
Homemade fudge, fresh broasted chicken, an arts-and-craft store that smelled like lavender soap, and a giant Leinenkugel's chair in front of the grocery/liquor store in which some Chardonnay, chicken dry rub, and New Glarus Spotted Cow were on the list. But, my spot was on the left at a bar named Wild Waters. Log exterior, comfy interior, sizable enough to move around, not-so-big to miss a person's conversation from opposite ends of the bar. This was my fourth visit of the summer, and surly owner always corrects my pronunciation of the delicious New Glarus on tap as I take a seat along the wooden tables with change stuck underneath the glass.
While I am there to figure out the variance between standard and actual cost for an imaginary manufacturing company there's an extra pint or two taken with each visit just to watch the locals filter in. Some by ATV, by Harley's, and some by foot. All coming in with smiles on their faces, catching a quick chat with the others while watching the Packers updates on the flat screen hung on the back wall (although this week the Vikes were showing despite knowing I was probably the only Purple and White fan in the joint).
One or two beers is mostly the cap for these folks, as it is the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday and not exact prime time to start up rounds of Jagerbombs. To me there's a relaxing feeling in those pure oak stools, something not found in surburbia-land where corporate heads suck all of the life out of glass before its even poured with flair. But, it's my time. And my time does not come over very often with full time school, work, and the upcoming WCOOP at PokerStars next week.
Yes, I did and do manage to find my way into the St. Croix Casino, much like asking a married man if he finds Minka Kelly attractive, this gambler has some oats to sow that don't involve breaking his marital vows to Deter Jeter's girlfriend. During these rushed times it necessary to drop your business suit, parenting suit, and even your birthday suit if you're into that sort of thing, and take a few minutes to breathe. What gives you that air is up to the individual and holding your breath too long will take the life from you.
Despite the next four weeks being the most crammed, stressful, busy, in-need-of-a-clone time of the year, this space is needed to let the air out of my belly before everything besides my appendix and bruised liver bursts. This blog feels like a neglected puppy, cowered in a corner from lack of touch versus abuse, just wanting someone warm to cuddle up with and maybe tell him a story while in a lap on the back deck and a late summer's breeze drifts over both of them.
In the mist of this presidental-like schedule there are places to carve out tax cuts for the rich and relief from stress. "Honey, I'm going into town". Didn't take much as school provides education and a reason to seek WiFi during our weekends up north. The drive is under 15 miles and seems too short when the weather cooperates. A single gas station on the right with a selection of porn better fit for SexWorld in downtown Minneapolis, the family golf cart dealership where the wife has been eyeing half of my scant poker bankroll for a cart with a backseat rigging so the kids could comfortably get shuttled from the cabin/trailer to the pool and the clubhouse for the best dollar ice cream this side of Coldstone.
Passing the unseen town of Swiss with a sign leaning back like a limbo dancer, probably caused by the straight-line winds that still show their destructive forces in the small town of Danbury that was my destination. The "Welcome to Wisconsin" is a awesome sight for someone who stupidly ran out of beer and ththankfully the cheeseheads have no blue laws on the books to keep me from enjoying one more day of sun and suds. As the first turn into town there's "Stubbs Fireworks" which I can't tell if its the proprietor's name or an unfortunate moniker from an M-80 mishap.
After the bend the new St. Croix Casino (formerly Hole in the Wall casino, which was a dead ringer for what is was, desperate gamblers and slot machines inside of connected trailers) stood tall at the end of road just past the four block stretch of the town.
Homemade fudge, fresh broasted chicken, an arts-and-craft store that smelled like lavender soap, and a giant Leinenkugel's chair in front of the grocery/liquor store in which some Chardonnay, chicken dry rub, and New Glarus Spotted Cow were on the list. But, my spot was on the left at a bar named Wild Waters. Log exterior, comfy interior, sizable enough to move around, not-so-big to miss a person's conversation from opposite ends of the bar. This was my fourth visit of the summer, and surly owner always corrects my pronunciation of the delicious New Glarus on tap as I take a seat along the wooden tables with change stuck underneath the glass.
While I am there to figure out the variance between standard and actual cost for an imaginary manufacturing company there's an extra pint or two taken with each visit just to watch the locals filter in. Some by ATV, by Harley's, and some by foot. All coming in with smiles on their faces, catching a quick chat with the others while watching the Packers updates on the flat screen hung on the back wall (although this week the Vikes were showing despite knowing I was probably the only Purple and White fan in the joint).
One or two beers is mostly the cap for these folks, as it is the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday and not exact prime time to start up rounds of Jagerbombs. To me there's a relaxing feeling in those pure oak stools, something not found in surburbia-land where corporate heads suck all of the life out of glass before its even poured with flair. But, it's my time. And my time does not come over very often with full time school, work, and the upcoming WCOOP at PokerStars next week.
Yes, I did and do manage to find my way into the St. Croix Casino, much like asking a married man if he finds Minka Kelly attractive, this gambler has some oats to sow that don't involve breaking his marital vows to Deter Jeter's girlfriend. During these rushed times it necessary to drop your business suit, parenting suit, and even your birthday suit if you're into that sort of thing, and take a few minutes to breathe. What gives you that air is up to the individual and holding your breath too long will take the life from you.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Accounting for thongs
Why I'm writing a mere four hours after finishing up my first leg of ten recaps for the 2010 WCOOP at PokerStarsBlog is beyond me. Something piqued my interest while getting gas before work and before long I drafted the bestest blog post EVAR!
Yeah, must like my dreams where I'm a stallion in bed listening to Anna Paquin and Jessica Biel scream out my online name and take pots off name branded poker pros half-crocked on Captain and Coke in Bobby's Room at the Belliagio, the post sounded better as the meter on the pump hit north of $40.00 and the cashier who was probably as awake as I, reminded me to pay inside. But, across two islands of gas pumps was a guy in a non-descript car with overalls and a patch with his name on it. It said "Steve" in red stitching as he probably worked in the nearby industrial park specializing in putting things together or repairing them for folks like myself who have a comparable power tool dexterity of a zebra. Steve drove off while I purchased a much needed energy drink after finishing up this morning's Event #13 final table wrap and heading in for a full day at the office with Event #16 awaiting me when I return home in ten hours.
It hit me after seeing Steve as to why I returned to school. More money from a better job sounds a like a cop-out and it is. Money should never been someone's driver for lofty aspirations, unless you're a poker player outside of a friendly home thus money is the only reason you should be sitting down. No, an enlightened bank account didn't get me to go back and learn how to separate partnership's capital accounts with salary and interest when one partner puts up X amount of money and the other puts up Y amount (which is less than X) while Mr. X works 50 hours per week at the business and Mr. Y spends more time at the local rub and tug while claiming to be networking.
Sadly, it was not for my family and friends. As I give ever little ounce of myself to my two kids and wife along with dear friends who's followed my sappy tale of woe here for nearly six years, there a little piece of me that is finishing up quarter two of 11 towards my bachelor's.
I want to be able to do something.
Steve the mechanic can probably hop under a car or machine press and fix the problem because of past knowledge and knowhow. I can tell you in under four seconds how many outs you have with three board cards and if the guy in the nine seat is drunk enough to call you. I can whip up a simple database or fancy spreadsheet, maybe make a few people laugh with attempts of humor and self-pity while having the writing amplitude of a half eaten Pringle. No, I wanted more. And I feel selfish now that it took Steve to make me realize why I'm lugging around those textbooks, staying up late to complete computer lab assignment when my head should be next to my wife's.
I want people to come to me for help, and I want to be able to sit down with a tax return, or ledger and just let the number flow much like my words seem to do in satisfactory ways while writing about poker. Note, I LOVE writing about poker, I LOVE the game and will never lose that, but becoming an Accountant or at the very least having an accounting degree means the world to me. Laugh if you will, accounting is a noble profession in my mind, but it's not going to get the ladies La Perla lacy underthings saturated (I'd plug in "moist panties" here but a good friend of mine says those are the two worst words in the English language). Some people were built to inspire, others to annoy, and me, I just want to do. I want to be Steve, minus the grease, better pay, and some stock options so I can retire before my Viagra years kick in.
Nine quarters from now we'll see if that pocket protector with my name etched in midnight blue is waiting for me.
Yeah, must like my dreams where I'm a stallion in bed listening to Anna Paquin and Jessica Biel scream out my online name and take pots off name branded poker pros half-crocked on Captain and Coke in Bobby's Room at the Belliagio, the post sounded better as the meter on the pump hit north of $40.00 and the cashier who was probably as awake as I, reminded me to pay inside. But, across two islands of gas pumps was a guy in a non-descript car with overalls and a patch with his name on it. It said "Steve" in red stitching as he probably worked in the nearby industrial park specializing in putting things together or repairing them for folks like myself who have a comparable power tool dexterity of a zebra. Steve drove off while I purchased a much needed energy drink after finishing up this morning's Event #13 final table wrap and heading in for a full day at the office with Event #16 awaiting me when I return home in ten hours.
It hit me after seeing Steve as to why I returned to school. More money from a better job sounds a like a cop-out and it is. Money should never been someone's driver for lofty aspirations, unless you're a poker player outside of a friendly home thus money is the only reason you should be sitting down. No, an enlightened bank account didn't get me to go back and learn how to separate partnership's capital accounts with salary and interest when one partner puts up X amount of money and the other puts up Y amount (which is less than X) while Mr. X works 50 hours per week at the business and Mr. Y spends more time at the local rub and tug while claiming to be networking.
Sadly, it was not for my family and friends. As I give ever little ounce of myself to my two kids and wife along with dear friends who's followed my sappy tale of woe here for nearly six years, there a little piece of me that is finishing up quarter two of 11 towards my bachelor's.
I want to be able to do something.
Steve the mechanic can probably hop under a car or machine press and fix the problem because of past knowledge and knowhow. I can tell you in under four seconds how many outs you have with three board cards and if the guy in the nine seat is drunk enough to call you. I can whip up a simple database or fancy spreadsheet, maybe make a few people laugh with attempts of humor and self-pity while having the writing amplitude of a half eaten Pringle. No, I wanted more. And I feel selfish now that it took Steve to make me realize why I'm lugging around those textbooks, staying up late to complete computer lab assignment when my head should be next to my wife's.
I want people to come to me for help, and I want to be able to sit down with a tax return, or ledger and just let the number flow much like my words seem to do in satisfactory ways while writing about poker. Note, I LOVE writing about poker, I LOVE the game and will never lose that, but becoming an Accountant or at the very least having an accounting degree means the world to me. Laugh if you will, accounting is a noble profession in my mind, but it's not going to get the ladies La Perla lacy underthings saturated (I'd plug in "moist panties" here but a good friend of mine says those are the two worst words in the English language). Some people were built to inspire, others to annoy, and me, I just want to do. I want to be Steve, minus the grease, better pay, and some stock options so I can retire before my Viagra years kick in.
Nine quarters from now we'll see if that pocket protector with my name etched in midnight blue is waiting for me.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
From Duluth With Love
With five days of zero work responsibilities and just school to worry about, a refreshing trip to the trailer cabin and North Shore were in order. If someone were from out-of-state and had a few days to putter around our flyover state, I would suggest heading straight up north for the North Shore. Rich in history, the edges of Lake Superior not only offer up gorgeous views but antique shopping and a hidden gem for micro-brew lovers.
We weren’t able to head further up north than Duluth but our friends managed a day at Gooseberry Falls with its over 100 foot drop that blows the Minnehaha Falls out of the water with its surrounding forest views.
For the beer drinkers, Fitger’s Brewhouse (and 4-star hotel) is a must. My suggestion is to try a flight of samplers, and request the Hercules if it’s available. You most likely cannot get a growler of the Herc, but the El Nino Double Hopped IPA or Big Boat Oatmeal Stout will tame your tongue once you return from these lumberjack-esque lands.
We’re working our way from the top down so as you enter Duluth with its taconite loading docks for ships heading out onto Lake Superior be sure to bring an appetite and some cash for shopping. Little niche shops of handcrafted items, touristy Nordic wear, and antiques are spread out along Canal Street. My family and I checked out the tour of a perma-docked ship the S.S. William A. Irvin. Our guide with a group of 20 had a little lack of volume control but was an encyclopedia ship knowledge after spending 30 plus years virtually living on ships like this one. He easily guided us through the captain’s quarters, explained how the crew managed to sleep ten feet from the engine room, and how his girlfriend saved his job as a porter from a fire-happy Chef (she’s the daughter of the ship’s owner). For just $11.50 a piece (kids free!) we got to see an IMAX movie (Dinosaurs, was decent for its archeological perspective) and go on this guided boat tour.
After checking out the pier with huge freighter full of taconite pellets going out, it was time for Grandma’s and its famous cheap pitchers of booze. Back in the day when my legs cooperated and a young volleyball player was able to jump high enough to hit the tip of the end poles, we would meander over to Grandma’s at the end of Minnesota’s biggest volleyball tournament and enjoy $3 pitchers of Kami’s and Long Island Iced Teas. Today they cost $5, still a bargain as they have added live bands and better food to the mix while their staple Bonottas still rule the menu.
After the long day it was time to head back to the Cities for life back on the grid as I started to take in the poker news I’ve been missing like Durrrr vs. jungleman12’s (check here for the scoop from Dr. Pauly's post at Full Tilt’s Poker From the Rail blog) new staple of degeneracy as another Durrrr challenge takes off as Dwan’s first challenge against Antonius winds down (finally).
And of course, yours truly was taking in the news from the WCOOP, which I’ll be on the PokerStarsBlog.com team for my third year of coverage. First assignment is tomorrow afternoon’s Event #13 PLO8 6-Max One Rebuy, One Add-on with a $200,000 guarantee. And that will dribble into Friday’s Event #16 Pot Limit Omaha 6-Max. Hmmmm, it seems I have the degen tourneys maybe I should have snagged a couple more of Fitger’s growlers to bring home.
We weren’t able to head further up north than Duluth but our friends managed a day at Gooseberry Falls with its over 100 foot drop that blows the Minnehaha Falls out of the water with its surrounding forest views.
Image from Nikilynn.net
For the beer drinkers, Fitger’s Brewhouse (and 4-star hotel) is a must. My suggestion is to try a flight of samplers, and request the Hercules if it’s available. You most likely cannot get a growler of the Herc, but the El Nino Double Hopped IPA or Big Boat Oatmeal Stout will tame your tongue once you return from these lumberjack-esque lands.
We’re working our way from the top down so as you enter Duluth with its taconite loading docks for ships heading out onto Lake Superior be sure to bring an appetite and some cash for shopping. Little niche shops of handcrafted items, touristy Nordic wear, and antiques are spread out along Canal Street. My family and I checked out the tour of a perma-docked ship the S.S. William A. Irvin. Our guide with a group of 20 had a little lack of volume control but was an encyclopedia ship knowledge after spending 30 plus years virtually living on ships like this one. He easily guided us through the captain’s quarters, explained how the crew managed to sleep ten feet from the engine room, and how his girlfriend saved his job as a porter from a fire-happy Chef (she’s the daughter of the ship’s owner). For just $11.50 a piece (kids free!) we got to see an IMAX movie (Dinosaurs, was decent for its archeological perspective) and go on this guided boat tour.
After checking out the pier with huge freighter full of taconite pellets going out, it was time for Grandma’s and its famous cheap pitchers of booze. Back in the day when my legs cooperated and a young volleyball player was able to jump high enough to hit the tip of the end poles, we would meander over to Grandma’s at the end of Minnesota’s biggest volleyball tournament and enjoy $3 pitchers of Kami’s and Long Island Iced Teas. Today they cost $5, still a bargain as they have added live bands and better food to the mix while their staple Bonottas still rule the menu.
After the long day it was time to head back to the Cities for life back on the grid as I started to take in the poker news I’ve been missing like Durrrr vs. jungleman12’s (check here for the scoop from Dr. Pauly's post at Full Tilt’s Poker From the Rail blog) new staple of degeneracy as another Durrrr challenge takes off as Dwan’s first challenge against Antonius winds down (finally).
And of course, yours truly was taking in the news from the WCOOP, which I’ll be on the PokerStarsBlog.com team for my third year of coverage. First assignment is tomorrow afternoon’s Event #13 PLO8 6-Max One Rebuy, One Add-on with a $200,000 guarantee. And that will dribble into Friday’s Event #16 Pot Limit Omaha 6-Max. Hmmmm, it seems I have the degen tourneys maybe I should have snagged a couple more of Fitger’s growlers to bring home.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
It's Go Time
I was looking at a slightly larger guy in the mirror last night. Sweat poured down a maroon t-shirt emblazed with a tacky saying from a particular brand of rum that the author is fond of. The time was a little after 8pm as my son would be playing with the few kids left in the well-stocked child care area of the gym (seriously, back when I was a kid you were lucky to play with a full inflated ball now you get ball crawls, computers, movies, they probably have live entertainment there too), it is time to pick up the aging, hurting body for parental duties. On the left was a women in her mid-forties who's sports bra and pant set looked like she ran face first into a cotton candy machine, the peppy lead trainer with short blonde hair, perfectly filling her sleek black warm-up gear was chatting non-stop while massaging her female client on the cushioned tables.
Why was I sitting cross-legged on the green yoga-like mat doing stretching exercising like 17 years ago when the lanky 120 pound kid with zero self-esteem was warming up to throw a few innings for the Osseo Orioles the next day? Just staring at the guy in the reflection who's grey hairs have started to form on the left side of his chin, why are you doing this? Well kid, you never tried. Maybe once, making that leap from the soft, velet blanket of home, Minnesota, friends, parents and shoving off to a college where your economic and social background were so vastly different you never had a chance. The academic part was easy, too easy that you slipped into a shot glass every other night, and instead of learning the lessons of life you figured out how to cut lime dead drunk without missing digits afterwards.
But this is now. Now we're going outside that comfort zone again, this time it's not a big-time Pac-10 school surrounded by Sigma Chi alpha males and 22 year old freshman with a chip on their overgrown egos. We're not sitting on the couch figuratively or realistically, going to the gym, getting an education, doing more at work, and most of all being more active with the kids and wife. No longer are the ties to staring blankly at a computer screen night after night, but doing so with a purpose. Like tonight's late-night poker binge that I save for every Thursday, it has a reason.
Stress relief. Chat with friends unseen except via their blogs and twitter. Hey, maybe even make a few bucks like this guy who won a bracelet race or play Al in heads-up PLO and get swore at for a good half hour while tipping back my favorite beverage.
No more "I can't" and more "I'll try" or "I'll do", much like accepted the biggest poker writing assignment to date for myself starting May 2nd at the PokerStarsBlog for SCOOP. This will be a test of juggling school, work, and testing my family how they'll function with a guy sitting in his green flannel pajamma bottoms emblazed with fuzzy dice and four leaf clovers with the broken elastic waistband describing how a check-raise eliminated 5th place for $24,589.31 while the sun creeps up through the porch's windows. They did it before during the maddness of live blogging the WCOOP when things weren't looking good for a 10 year wedding anniversary, they'll do it this time not for the money, but for better reasons.
Because they like seeing me truly happy for the first time in my life (and I'd be even happier if I get a degeneracy pass to skip off to the WSOP this summer for a weekend of Pai Gow, lifting sullen bloggers spirits, and hang out with those friendships I value greatly...).
[Side Note: Here's a must read from Big Pirate. Inspired writing on faith.]
Why was I sitting cross-legged on the green yoga-like mat doing stretching exercising like 17 years ago when the lanky 120 pound kid with zero self-esteem was warming up to throw a few innings for the Osseo Orioles the next day? Just staring at the guy in the reflection who's grey hairs have started to form on the left side of his chin, why are you doing this? Well kid, you never tried. Maybe once, making that leap from the soft, velet blanket of home, Minnesota, friends, parents and shoving off to a college where your economic and social background were so vastly different you never had a chance. The academic part was easy, too easy that you slipped into a shot glass every other night, and instead of learning the lessons of life you figured out how to cut lime dead drunk without missing digits afterwards.
But this is now. Now we're going outside that comfort zone again, this time it's not a big-time Pac-10 school surrounded by Sigma Chi alpha males and 22 year old freshman with a chip on their overgrown egos. We're not sitting on the couch figuratively or realistically, going to the gym, getting an education, doing more at work, and most of all being more active with the kids and wife. No longer are the ties to staring blankly at a computer screen night after night, but doing so with a purpose. Like tonight's late-night poker binge that I save for every Thursday, it has a reason.
Stress relief. Chat with friends unseen except via their blogs and twitter. Hey, maybe even make a few bucks like this guy who won a bracelet race or play Al in heads-up PLO and get swore at for a good half hour while tipping back my favorite beverage.
No more "I can't" and more "I'll try" or "I'll do", much like accepted the biggest poker writing assignment to date for myself starting May 2nd at the PokerStarsBlog for SCOOP. This will be a test of juggling school, work, and testing my family how they'll function with a guy sitting in his green flannel pajamma bottoms emblazed with fuzzy dice and four leaf clovers with the broken elastic waistband describing how a check-raise eliminated 5th place for $24,589.31 while the sun creeps up through the porch's windows. They did it before during the maddness of live blogging the WCOOP when things weren't looking good for a 10 year wedding anniversary, they'll do it this time not for the money, but for better reasons.
Because they like seeing me truly happy for the first time in my life (and I'd be even happier if I get a degeneracy pass to skip off to the WSOP this summer for a weekend of Pai Gow, lifting sullen bloggers spirits, and hang out with those friendships I value greatly...).
[Side Note: Here's a must read from Big Pirate. Inspired writing on faith.]
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Good Word
Yesterday was very refreshing. There's something about working overnight then hitting the covers for an afternoon that feels cold side of the pillow or feet-hitting-fluffy-carpeting good.
Due to the extra work at PokerStarsBlog yesterday and this coming weekend (Go over and check out our WCOOP recaps!!) for the WCOOP, this page will lag a bit since my co-worker is on leave and hometime is at a premium with Wyatt's soccer team is in full practice/games mode while Kyra starts up gymnastics next week and I'm finishing up my two adult t-ball (softball)leagues there about enough time to check the phone for messages (sorry about that Otis, my phone was dead) and head out to activity #1,945,023.
In other news, busy is good.
There's an enjoyment beyond typed words that I derive from being called on to work since my usual duties consist of keeping numbers alligned and stacking TPS reports alphabetically. My 9 to 5 is not the most thought provoking job in the world but I love the company and it pays the bills. Since I'm a low-level grunt with nothing more than a 2-year degree, professionally I'm stuck with what is given versus outreaching for what could be. Sure, going back to college and picking up a piece of very expensive paper could open a few doors but anyone want a half-deaf manager with a penchant for overplaying aces and tendency to make gag worthy white-boy dance moves everytime there's 80's hair metal music on after a few Captain and Cokes?
Aside from the finances and time that I don't have, there's a million other excuses that could be thrown at this college thing that keeps nipping at me but I rationalize it like this:
I'm happy right now, I'm satisfied where I'm at, and my family is taken care of.
Why throw those things into a spin cycle to be washed at high speeds for the sake of an educational facility to proclaim that I managed to break down a math problem or memorize an equation that will never been used again outside of a test with my name politely written at the top with room and period number.
Until those three things are threatened or in the forseeable future need to be upgraded, there's no desire to complete a bunch of mind-numbing textbook reading just for credits. Learning a new language, improving my writing, learning SQL... those things I'm interested in but don't cover the 8 credits of art history or Calculus III (better known as lets-give-you-one-problem-that-takes-four-pages-of-calculations-to-complete) needed to get a degree.
I'll choose happy for the first time since, ever. My inner-anger is gone (until of course someone brutally cracks my five million outs twice tonight and my laptop ends up embedded in the neighbor's overused hot tub), and for once in my life I don't feel like there's a need to prove myself of anything. Stable job (but need to cross fingers thanks to the economy), good friends that are trusting and trustworthy, and a renewed marriage/family life now that I can be the person they want and I want thanks to my bionic ears and refound need to stay in shape.
Don't worry, there's no attempt to become "born again", as I respect others' faiths, I hold true to the house of the present. As my belief is in family, friends, the angle of the dangle, and good drink with conversations not a book or teachings of the past. I had an old school-mate try turn me to biblical readings and living a more "clean" life. I told him I'd rather live how I want and not limit myself due to 2,000 year old "rules" or interpretation of those rules handed down through a book. I won't get into stances of abortion, homosexuality, etc. etc. because you're going to believe what YOU want, and I'll believe in want I want. To press someone's beliefs on another (unless you have the inside scoop on an NFL line SHARE WITH ME PLEASE) its best to keep it to yourself.
Rant over, feel free to recant and tell me I'm going to burn in hell.
Done blowing sunshine up your asses today. See you tonight as there's no WCOOP on tap for myself, so I'll be murking in the low limit tourney waters with a 52 ounce liquid stress reliever in my right hand.
Cheers.
---
As for what you should be reading... Truckin' is coming back at ya, read the latest issue below, that Human Head poked his Jupiter-sized melon into. I have a story swirling around for the good doctor once the WCOOP madness dies down and the temperatures make it less desirable to step outside for a walk.
1. Tangerine Rockets by Paul McGuire Lennie was an international legend. His father walked away from a plane crash and passed along some of those good luck genes over to Lennie.... More
2. The Red Pill by Sigge S. Amdal She dropped the face and began to cry, as tensions rose around me. The waiters stopped waiting tables, people stopped talking; they were just exchanging knowing glances and judgmental comments... More
3. Fine Tuning by Milton T. Burton He looked perplexed. I slipped my hand beneath my coat, came out with the little silenced .22 Magnum auto, and shot him right in the center of the forehead. The hollow-point bullet exited the back of his skull, making a colorful little jet of blood and brains as it went... More
4. On Scoring by Human Head One look at the eyeliner, eyebrows, gold hoops and herringbone chains, and I knew this was the Angel we were supposed to see. As she drew closer to the door, the tattoo's left little doubt. She didn't say anything. She just looked at me... More
5. The Joys of Gambling by Johnny Hughes Saratoga Springs, New York in August was the gambling capital of America in the 1920s, with the horses, the spa waters, large and ornate casinos, and America's wealthiest citizens in a gilded age, when money and wine were treated like water... More
Due to the extra work at PokerStarsBlog yesterday and this coming weekend (Go over and check out our WCOOP recaps!!) for the WCOOP, this page will lag a bit since my co-worker is on leave and hometime is at a premium with Wyatt's soccer team is in full practice/games mode while Kyra starts up gymnastics next week and I'm finishing up my two adult t-ball (softball)leagues there about enough time to check the phone for messages (sorry about that Otis, my phone was dead) and head out to activity #1,945,023.
In other news, busy is good.
There's an enjoyment beyond typed words that I derive from being called on to work since my usual duties consist of keeping numbers alligned and stacking TPS reports alphabetically. My 9 to 5 is not the most thought provoking job in the world but I love the company and it pays the bills. Since I'm a low-level grunt with nothing more than a 2-year degree, professionally I'm stuck with what is given versus outreaching for what could be. Sure, going back to college and picking up a piece of very expensive paper could open a few doors but anyone want a half-deaf manager with a penchant for overplaying aces and tendency to make gag worthy white-boy dance moves everytime there's 80's hair metal music on after a few Captain and Cokes?
Aside from the finances and time that I don't have, there's a million other excuses that could be thrown at this college thing that keeps nipping at me but I rationalize it like this:
I'm happy right now, I'm satisfied where I'm at, and my family is taken care of.
Why throw those things into a spin cycle to be washed at high speeds for the sake of an educational facility to proclaim that I managed to break down a math problem or memorize an equation that will never been used again outside of a test with my name politely written at the top with room and period number.
Until those three things are threatened or in the forseeable future need to be upgraded, there's no desire to complete a bunch of mind-numbing textbook reading just for credits. Learning a new language, improving my writing, learning SQL... those things I'm interested in but don't cover the 8 credits of art history or Calculus III (better known as lets-give-you-one-problem-that-takes-four-pages-of-calculations-to-complete) needed to get a degree.
I'll choose happy for the first time since, ever. My inner-anger is gone (until of course someone brutally cracks my five million outs twice tonight and my laptop ends up embedded in the neighbor's overused hot tub), and for once in my life I don't feel like there's a need to prove myself of anything. Stable job (but need to cross fingers thanks to the economy), good friends that are trusting and trustworthy, and a renewed marriage/family life now that I can be the person they want and I want thanks to my bionic ears and refound need to stay in shape.
Don't worry, there's no attempt to become "born again", as I respect others' faiths, I hold true to the house of the present. As my belief is in family, friends, the angle of the dangle, and good drink with conversations not a book or teachings of the past. I had an old school-mate try turn me to biblical readings and living a more "clean" life. I told him I'd rather live how I want and not limit myself due to 2,000 year old "rules" or interpretation of those rules handed down through a book. I won't get into stances of abortion, homosexuality, etc. etc. because you're going to believe what YOU want, and I'll believe in want I want. To press someone's beliefs on another (unless you have the inside scoop on an NFL line SHARE WITH ME PLEASE) its best to keep it to yourself.
Rant over, feel free to recant and tell me I'm going to burn in hell.
Done blowing sunshine up your asses today. See you tonight as there's no WCOOP on tap for myself, so I'll be murking in the low limit tourney waters with a 52 ounce liquid stress reliever in my right hand.
Cheers.
---
As for what you should be reading... Truckin' is coming back at ya, read the latest issue below, that Human Head poked his Jupiter-sized melon into. I have a story swirling around for the good doctor once the WCOOP madness dies down and the temperatures make it less desirable to step outside for a walk.
1. Tangerine Rockets by Paul McGuire Lennie was an international legend. His father walked away from a plane crash and passed along some of those good luck genes over to Lennie.... More
2. The Red Pill by Sigge S. Amdal She dropped the face and began to cry, as tensions rose around me. The waiters stopped waiting tables, people stopped talking; they were just exchanging knowing glances and judgmental comments... More
3. Fine Tuning by Milton T. Burton He looked perplexed. I slipped my hand beneath my coat, came out with the little silenced .22 Magnum auto, and shot him right in the center of the forehead. The hollow-point bullet exited the back of his skull, making a colorful little jet of blood and brains as it went... More
4. On Scoring by Human Head One look at the eyeliner, eyebrows, gold hoops and herringbone chains, and I knew this was the Angel we were supposed to see. As she drew closer to the door, the tattoo's left little doubt. She didn't say anything. She just looked at me... More
5. The Joys of Gambling by Johnny Hughes Saratoga Springs, New York in August was the gambling capital of America in the 1920s, with the horses, the spa waters, large and ornate casinos, and America's wealthiest citizens in a gilded age, when money and wine were treated like water... More
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
A Worse Beat
Not getting laid for the past month in a half or going to Arby's today a discovering you can't order the 5 for $5.95 deal and are forced to make do with one beef and cheddar with only one packet of Arby sauce.
Bastards, hope they choke on some trans fat fumes.
WCOOP main event tomorrow. The last ride for this band of blogging brothers (and sisters).
Giddyup.
Bastards, hope they choke on some trans fat fumes.
WCOOP main event tomorrow. The last ride for this band of blogging brothers (and sisters).
Giddyup.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Virtual Finish Line
Battle station ready
Eye on the prize
Need to eat more pork products after losing seven pounds
Random overinflated chick, just because
Ready for the ride home
See ya Monday.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Magic Number is at 5
Not for the Twins, they're sucking ass like my other favorite overpaid athletes. CLOSE OUT A GAME FOR ONCE!!!!
Watching “World’s Most Beautiful Beaches” on the travel channel for the fact that I do not have thonged goddesses grinding to the latest club mix on my deck while drunk on syrupy cocktails, and I need a little mindlessness before going back to the battle station downstairs.
But, I did acquire a beer which every sip is to be savored like a fine steak at a Vegas eatery (hmmmm can’t wait for the frites) as the kids are down for their naps and no wife to tell me that a beer in the afternoon is the road to alcoholism, which I’ll hold off those tenacities until the Bash (its tomorrow, right Al?!?!). I suppose 10 more days of waiting will only leave me crying a little inside.
Five more days of the WCOOP, then back to reality of three walls and vapid employee of the month certificates (free cookies rule!!!), back to a “normal” job, back to monotone colors and ledgers without creative edges. No more punny headlines and watching people play for more money then I’ll make in the next 10 years (but at least I get the employee discount!!!!111). No more getting done at 8:30am the next morning wondering if I can manage to put on my boxers in the right direction. No more feeling good about the product we put out there for the readers of the PokerStarsBlog.
There are readers I hope, if not it doesn’t hurt the pride I’ve taken in working with these folks who most of I’ll see next week or in December to rehash the stories and enjoy something more then the stale Wheat Thins and green tea sitting next to my laptops. There’s no competition here, no advancement up the corporate ladder, no sexual harassment that doesn’t get slung back at you ten-fold.
In a couple words: the perfect workplace.
There’s an understanding that this is probably a one-time thing but I’m happy to have done it and have five more nights to enjoy the dessert of this work/vacation meal.
Watching “World’s Most Beautiful Beaches” on the travel channel for the fact that I do not have thonged goddesses grinding to the latest club mix on my deck while drunk on syrupy cocktails, and I need a little mindlessness before going back to the battle station downstairs.
But, I did acquire a beer which every sip is to be savored like a fine steak at a Vegas eatery (hmmmm can’t wait for the frites) as the kids are down for their naps and no wife to tell me that a beer in the afternoon is the road to alcoholism, which I’ll hold off those tenacities until the Bash (its tomorrow, right Al?!?!). I suppose 10 more days of waiting will only leave me crying a little inside.
Five more days of the WCOOP, then back to reality of three walls and vapid employee of the month certificates (free cookies rule!!!), back to a “normal” job, back to monotone colors and ledgers without creative edges. No more punny headlines and watching people play for more money then I’ll make in the next 10 years (but at least I get the employee discount!!!!111). No more getting done at 8:30am the next morning wondering if I can manage to put on my boxers in the right direction. No more feeling good about the product we put out there for the readers of the PokerStarsBlog.
There are readers I hope, if not it doesn’t hurt the pride I’ve taken in working with these folks who most of I’ll see next week or in December to rehash the stories and enjoy something more then the stale Wheat Thins and green tea sitting next to my laptops. There’s no competition here, no advancement up the corporate ladder, no sexual harassment that doesn’t get slung back at you ten-fold.
In a couple words: the perfect workplace.
There’s an understanding that this is probably a one-time thing but I’m happy to have done it and have five more nights to enjoy the dessert of this work/vacation meal.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I Love Jesus, I Want My Damn McGriddle Now!!!
I fell asleep during the Vikes game halfway thru the third quarter, wake up to Viniteri kicking a game-winning field goal while warming up for Event #20 at the WCOOP yesterday afternoon.
What the hell happened? I assume the usual heart break from my beloved Vikes as they manage avoid victory once again while striving for defeat. Well played sir.
Mr. Cutler, that was a fumble. Brass balls on the 2-point conversion however.
Another sleepless weekend in the books, one more and I come out a reborn catholic who spends his day reading from the good book and praising Jesus daily at the local McDonald's where my request for an extra sauage patty was charged yet not received prompting my daughter to take offense in the form of sonic boom-level screaming when we got home Sunday morning after daddy had no sleep since 5am Saturday.
(I haven't left the reservation yet, but I'll be honest that I'm sneering more and more about returning to work next week)
God will smite those McGriddle flipping heathens should similar issues occur next time. I notice the africian-american crew was "working" instead of the usually effecient latino one. Did I mention waiting 10 minutes at the drive thru and having to explain what goes into a "Big Breakfast" to the glassy eyed attendant as she texted her friend that was standing three feet away causing laugher as 5 of the workers stood in a huddle while no one made my damn McGriddle?
Yes, laugh at the guy who could barely spell "Team PokerStars Pro" at 9am. Please go work at BK to flip some Whoppers and those annoyingly crown-shaped chicken nuggets next Saturday, I have a very long night coming up this weekend and might just snap Michael Douglas "Falling Down" style if you forget my hash brown patty and a smile.
A big thanks to those who put up with me this weekend, at home and online. Tonight I'll be blogging up WCOOP Event #22's Mixed O/8 (yea!!!), drop by and enjoy the scoops (you see what I did there? GENIUS!). Sigh.
What the hell happened? I assume the usual heart break from my beloved Vikes as they manage avoid victory once again while striving for defeat. Well played sir.
Mr. Cutler, that was a fumble. Brass balls on the 2-point conversion however.
Another sleepless weekend in the books, one more and I come out a reborn catholic who spends his day reading from the good book and praising Jesus daily at the local McDonald's where my request for an extra sauage patty was charged yet not received prompting my daughter to take offense in the form of sonic boom-level screaming when we got home Sunday morning after daddy had no sleep since 5am Saturday.
(I haven't left the reservation yet, but I'll be honest that I'm sneering more and more about returning to work next week)
God will smite those McGriddle flipping heathens should similar issues occur next time. I notice the africian-american crew was "working" instead of the usually effecient latino one. Did I mention waiting 10 minutes at the drive thru and having to explain what goes into a "Big Breakfast" to the glassy eyed attendant as she texted her friend that was standing three feet away causing laugher as 5 of the workers stood in a huddle while no one made my damn McGriddle?
Yes, laugh at the guy who could barely spell "Team PokerStars Pro" at 9am. Please go work at BK to flip some Whoppers and those annoyingly crown-shaped chicken nuggets next Saturday, I have a very long night coming up this weekend and might just snap Michael Douglas "Falling Down" style if you forget my hash brown patty and a smile.
A big thanks to those who put up with me this weekend, at home and online. Tonight I'll be blogging up WCOOP Event #22's Mixed O/8 (yea!!!), drop by and enjoy the scoops (you see what I did there? GENIUS!). Sigh.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Pinch Hitting With Authority
Still frazzled, not the least bit dazzled by T-Jack’s performance on Monday night. I could rant about buttah fingers Shiancoe or Jackson’s ability to throw a pass at the Lambeau field grass with such authority that the ground hogs in Madison were complaining about the noise. Purple Jesus looked good, but not great for someone who runs like Lawrence Taylor in Tecmo Bowl 87’. Barring injury, look for him to tear up a couple of defenses for 200+, while I have extreme prejudice against the cheeseheads, they have a solid defense and that front four on offense was stellar. Kudos.
Also look for me to be wearing my punishment for pride at the Bash from The Wife. Did anyone else rather her in Viking samba panties? I think a muzzle and leash plus drool cup would be minimum for Waffles to be within 100 yards of her. Actually the Helga hat I had picked out for her will have to go back into storage until the next game :)
Also look for me to be wearing my punishment for pride at the Bash from The Wife. Did anyone else rather her in Viking samba panties? I think a muzzle and leash plus drool cup would be minimum for Waffles to be within 100 yards of her. Actually the Helga hat I had picked out for her will have to go back into storage until the next game :)
SKOL!!
Are you enjoying the WCOOP coverage? Any complaints, praises, rants, suggestions? After coming back to “work” for a 10 hour day, it feels like a day off. Hell, plunking numbers into spreadsheets at my own pace is a little different then scampering for chip counts on 15 different pros while looking at stats for IThinkURdUmB69 all in five minutes during the breaks. Seriously, those are some pressure packed hours which is great for someone who enjoys being kept on his toes.
Are you enjoying the WCOOP coverage? Any complaints, praises, rants, suggestions? After coming back to “work” for a 10 hour day, it feels like a day off. Hell, plunking numbers into spreadsheets at my own pace is a little different then scampering for chip counts on 15 different pros while looking at stats for IThinkURdUmB69 all in five minutes during the breaks. Seriously, those are some pressure packed hours which is great for someone who enjoys being kept on his toes.
As stated before this started, my only hope is that I’m not holding back the team of wordsmiths that Otis has (my confidence level rises every night that I don't erase the posts or spell Isabelle's name wrong).
From playing sports all my life I know what it feels like to be both the bench-riding fourth starter who calls the pitches from the dugout while keeping track of RBIs and pitch placement and the MVP who is expected to perform where other cannot or won’t. I’ve been the Captain, I’ve been the Tennille and should the job performance be marked with an above satisfactory mark with comments about “plays well with others” and “doesn’t spend entire meeting staring at Vice President’s MILF-ish back tattoo and lace thong showing from power dress” after Sunday September 21st, I hope there’s another chance to play with the team again.
If you have never been both the starter and waterboy/girl, you’re letting life drift by. I’ve been guilty of this for the longest time, and jumping into something I’ve never done before without water-wingies has been refreshing. Whether its hitting a ball, solving the cold fission problem, or coming up with the next snappy McDonald’s jingle, there’s something out there for everyone to stretch themselves (thanks Kat).
Now that I’m limber as a Cirque du Soleil contortionist, I’m ready for the next two weeks.
Bring it on.
If you have never been both the starter and waterboy/girl, you’re letting life drift by. I’ve been guilty of this for the longest time, and jumping into something I’ve never done before without water-wingies has been refreshing. Whether its hitting a ball, solving the cold fission problem, or coming up with the next snappy McDonald’s jingle, there’s something out there for everyone to stretch themselves (thanks Kat).
Now that I’m limber as a Cirque du Soleil contortionist, I’m ready for the next two weeks.
Bring it on.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Since We Love to Live Blog...
Since live blogging took over my life for the past weekend, let’s twitter-riffic my past weekend:
09/05/08 – 8:00pm Log on to PokerStars blogging platform fresh as a newborn after some tit-sucking. I’m first up with Event #1, no pressure leadoff after being called up from single “A” ball.
09/06/08 - 12:00am – Wow, midnight came fast and still plugging away. Alcoholism and self-loathing in the distant future.
4:00 am – Bio break, legs won’t function as I crawl to the bathroom and piss like a water fountain into the toilet
5:32 am – Not looking good for golfing as the final six have extremely healthy “M’s” and with several hundred thousand dollars on the line, I doubt they care if I get to go shoot 18 with my father-in-law an hour from now.
6:30 am – Otis is the man, and takes over for my limp (literally) ass as I stumble into my Greg Norman polo shirt and pillow soft khakis to pick up my brother-in-law for our annual foursome with our father-in-law out at Daytona Golf Club (September rates $27 with a cart for 18, awesome deal!!)
7:01am – First tee time and picture perfect morning with the sun coming over some farmland beyond the first green. The dew is a runny nose-like thick but makes it easier to read my horrible putts
9:23 am – After four three-putts but somehow hitting 7 out of 9 greens in regulation with zero sleep I decide something was needed on the turn. I blankly got an M and M cookie instead of a much needed drink.
11:14am - Bullshiting at the bar after the round for a hour or so is the best part of our annual get-together. My brother-in-law manages to chat about my exploit with an engaged chick right before I started dating his daughter for nearly 15 minutes. Thanks, bro remind me to tell a few stories next time.
12:45pm - Arrive at brother-in-law’s house for burgers and brats on the grill after finally getting some wake-up juice in me (Cap’n Coke of course, heavy on the Cap’n), I wake up enough to acknowledge that this swiss/cheddar burger is pretty goddamn tasty and my daughter is proudly wearing a sticker proclaiming her a junior crimefighter which I’m reminded of every two minutes which I steal a hug from her each time.
2:00pm - Hit the bed with the force of a pre-Buster Douglas fight Mike Tyson.
5:30pm – Wake up to take care of the kids as they were nice enough to take a nap with daddy, wife is scrapbooking until 11pm.
8:00pm – Watch Spongebob Squarepants with the boy as we assembled a fort of pillows, comforters, and state fair won stuffed animals for his “sleepover” in the porch.
9:17pm – Prep for tonight’s Event #4 2-7 Triple Draw with the lovely Change100. Thought about a nice Goose Island IPA, took a Lipton ice tea and a box of Triscuits instead
10:00pm – Settle in for the night purchasing Werewolves of London and Goodbye to You for the iPod while logging into PokerStarsBlog.com and the nifty hand replayer
10:25pm - Make first poker blogging prop bet ever on the finish time, Change100 sets it at 3:45PDT, I take the under for $5.
09/07/08 5:45am -- #@$%!#%@#@!, lose $5 when we’re four-handed. Ship it to Change!
6:15am – watch the most bizarre heads-up play I’ve ever seen, the eventual winner takes 15 hands in a row while both still had healthy Ms to the blinds. The other player just rolls over and dies as with no chop in place he wins the whole $24K
6:30am – Finish up with the final hand from Change100 wish her a good night and log off
6:49am – Kids are up, play around with them wondering who’s in my skin right now
10:07am - Feel much better after a two hour nap when the wife kindly feeds them breakfast and wake up for a little Super Mario World with Wyatt
1:03 pm - Took another quickie nap and set out to take care of my parent’s dog while they’re away, and watch some football after getting a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy’s
1:41 pm – Jets vs. Dolphins or Atlanta vs. Lions?!?!?!?! As Speaker might say “Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.” I get to watch part of one game today and have to choose between FARVEFARVEFARVEFARVEFARVE and the Matt Millen fan club? Eric Hipple and someone who can actually play defense please report to the Lions camp immediately.
2:45pm – Start setting up with Stephen Bartley from across the pond who’s looking at a rather late evening/early morning with our shift. He’s already got a list of player to look for in this massive 7,000+ orgy. I manage to spot “The Bulldog” Orel Hershiser who would almost make the money while playing very decently as I followed him for awhile.
5:34pm – Wife announces no dinner for me as I didn’t answer my cell phone (thanks, hon) while Wyatt proudly displays his new #23 jersey for the local soccer club. I wrestle with both of them as they played for a little bit after banging out a quick post.
6:46pm - Find soccer pic on my cell phone, Wyatt is looking good, hopefully he gets his mother's striking ability versus my bad legs for the sport.
8:00pm – Kyra with her new Dora the Explorer PJs comes down alone for a hug and kiss looking more tired then me. But she actually provides me with more caffeine then a double espresso at Starbucks as we near the bubble in Event #6.
10:00pm -- The closers come in, as my brain feels like I just tossed a complete game in 95% humidity. Wish Stephen a great night, and trot upstairs to catch the end of the Bears/Colts game which Payton probably dominating…
10:21pm – Whoa, Payton is on the sidelines looking like his prom date is getting railed by the dance floor by the offensive line. Score one for Donkeypuncher’s Bears.
10:37pm – Walk out to the deck to stare at the backyard for five minute and wind down a bit. Still passed on the IPA, poor choice once again.
10:50pm – Wife is snoring, my head hits the pillow and the first wild weekend of blogging is in the books.
09/05/08 – 8:00pm Log on to PokerStars blogging platform fresh as a newborn after some tit-sucking. I’m first up with Event #1, no pressure leadoff after being called up from single “A” ball.
09/06/08 - 12:00am – Wow, midnight came fast and still plugging away. Alcoholism and self-loathing in the distant future.
4:00 am – Bio break, legs won’t function as I crawl to the bathroom and piss like a water fountain into the toilet
5:32 am – Not looking good for golfing as the final six have extremely healthy “M’s” and with several hundred thousand dollars on the line, I doubt they care if I get to go shoot 18 with my father-in-law an hour from now.
6:30 am – Otis is the man, and takes over for my limp (literally) ass as I stumble into my Greg Norman polo shirt and pillow soft khakis to pick up my brother-in-law for our annual foursome with our father-in-law out at Daytona Golf Club (September rates $27 with a cart for 18, awesome deal!!)
7:01am – First tee time and picture perfect morning with the sun coming over some farmland beyond the first green. The dew is a runny nose-like thick but makes it easier to read my horrible putts
9:23 am – After four three-putts but somehow hitting 7 out of 9 greens in regulation with zero sleep I decide something was needed on the turn. I blankly got an M and M cookie instead of a much needed drink.
11:14am - Bullshiting at the bar after the round for a hour or so is the best part of our annual get-together. My brother-in-law manages to chat about my exploit with an engaged chick right before I started dating his daughter for nearly 15 minutes. Thanks, bro remind me to tell a few stories next time.
12:45pm - Arrive at brother-in-law’s house for burgers and brats on the grill after finally getting some wake-up juice in me (Cap’n Coke of course, heavy on the Cap’n), I wake up enough to acknowledge that this swiss/cheddar burger is pretty goddamn tasty and my daughter is proudly wearing a sticker proclaiming her a junior crimefighter which I’m reminded of every two minutes which I steal a hug from her each time.
2:00pm - Hit the bed with the force of a pre-Buster Douglas fight Mike Tyson.
5:30pm – Wake up to take care of the kids as they were nice enough to take a nap with daddy, wife is scrapbooking until 11pm.
8:00pm – Watch Spongebob Squarepants with the boy as we assembled a fort of pillows, comforters, and state fair won stuffed animals for his “sleepover” in the porch.
9:17pm – Prep for tonight’s Event #4 2-7 Triple Draw with the lovely Change100. Thought about a nice Goose Island IPA, took a Lipton ice tea and a box of Triscuits instead
10:00pm – Settle in for the night purchasing Werewolves of London and Goodbye to You for the iPod while logging into PokerStarsBlog.com and the nifty hand replayer
10:25pm - Make first poker blogging prop bet ever on the finish time, Change100 sets it at 3:45PDT, I take the under for $5.
09/07/08 5:45am -- #@$%!#%@#@!, lose $5 when we’re four-handed. Ship it to Change!
6:15am – watch the most bizarre heads-up play I’ve ever seen, the eventual winner takes 15 hands in a row while both still had healthy Ms to the blinds. The other player just rolls over and dies as with no chop in place he wins the whole $24K
6:30am – Finish up with the final hand from Change100 wish her a good night and log off
6:49am – Kids are up, play around with them wondering who’s in my skin right now
10:07am - Feel much better after a two hour nap when the wife kindly feeds them breakfast and wake up for a little Super Mario World with Wyatt
1:03 pm - Took another quickie nap and set out to take care of my parent’s dog while they’re away, and watch some football after getting a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy’s
1:41 pm – Jets vs. Dolphins or Atlanta vs. Lions?!?!?!?! As Speaker might say “Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.” I get to watch part of one game today and have to choose between FARVEFARVEFARVEFARVEFARVE and the Matt Millen fan club? Eric Hipple and someone who can actually play defense please report to the Lions camp immediately.
2:45pm – Start setting up with Stephen Bartley from across the pond who’s looking at a rather late evening/early morning with our shift. He’s already got a list of player to look for in this massive 7,000+ orgy. I manage to spot “The Bulldog” Orel Hershiser who would almost make the money while playing very decently as I followed him for awhile.
5:34pm – Wife announces no dinner for me as I didn’t answer my cell phone (thanks, hon) while Wyatt proudly displays his new #23 jersey for the local soccer club. I wrestle with both of them as they played for a little bit after banging out a quick post.
6:46pm - Find soccer pic on my cell phone, Wyatt is looking good, hopefully he gets his mother's striking ability versus my bad legs for the sport.
8:00pm – Kyra with her new Dora the Explorer PJs comes down alone for a hug and kiss looking more tired then me. But she actually provides me with more caffeine then a double espresso at Starbucks as we near the bubble in Event #6.
10:00pm -- The closers come in, as my brain feels like I just tossed a complete game in 95% humidity. Wish Stephen a great night, and trot upstairs to catch the end of the Bears/Colts game which Payton probably dominating…
10:21pm – Whoa, Payton is on the sidelines looking like his prom date is getting railed by the dance floor by the offensive line. Score one for Donkeypuncher’s Bears.
10:37pm – Walk out to the deck to stare at the backyard for five minute and wind down a bit. Still passed on the IPA, poor choice once again.
10:50pm – Wife is snoring, my head hits the pillow and the first wild weekend of blogging is in the books.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Continuous Path To Follow
Being a parent brings a different meaning to me everyday, as lacking a grip on this highest of priorities is a fault of mine. There’s a reason to go to work, play nice to those around you, avoid that used condom in the hallway (that was new and disturbing since I don't work in a strip club), and new things to learn upon plopping down with the family at 6pm for dinner while nougat farmers with Sampson-like hair talk about the latest on Hurricane Gustav on the TV.
Milestones are set along a road, some clearly marked, others stand within rough that even Tiger Woods with two good knees would have little chance of making the green out of. There’s potty training, first night getting bailed out of jail for using a fake I.D., college graduation, dressing yourself, first sleepover at a friend’s house, first steps, producing grandchildren, first “A” on a test, and first chat with dad on the backyard deck holding a couple of drinks without the wall of child/father relationship standing in the way.
Yesterday was of the clearly marked variety as Wyatt started school, breaking into the realm of progress reports, making friends/enemies, learning beyond his Leapster and Harold and the Purple Crayon readings before bed. Our walk towards a new life around the playground on the rainy morning didn’t shock like finding your fly open while giving a presentation on data security to the board of directors. It was more about taking in and seeing the “Welcome to your first day of Kindergarten!” sign, watching the little guy go to work on the teacher’s aides and peppering them with questions 60 Minutes-style (as the parents hogged most of the teacher’s time to learn about how the precious one will return home each day), and taking a back-row seat to the little people’s flea circus around the miniature chairs and brightly colored affirmations that adorned the walls.
“Its Hard to be Five” by Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, that one, and I know there's better pics, I'm sure WCP or Al can help there) will be the first book read to his ears by someone not named dad, mom, or nana. First scrapes from the playground, first elation of an art project to hang on the fridge, and other firsts soon to come as this parenting marker is now behind us on one road but with more to come. To continue strolling along or in Wyatt’s case hoping my bad knees hold up while he sprints along this path.
I learn just as much as the guy with the new 20 color Crayola markers and glue stick set going back for his second day today. Maybe more.
Two days till the WCOOP at PokerStars. Are you in?
Milestones are set along a road, some clearly marked, others stand within rough that even Tiger Woods with two good knees would have little chance of making the green out of. There’s potty training, first night getting bailed out of jail for using a fake I.D., college graduation, dressing yourself, first sleepover at a friend’s house, first steps, producing grandchildren, first “A” on a test, and first chat with dad on the backyard deck holding a couple of drinks without the wall of child/father relationship standing in the way.
Yesterday was of the clearly marked variety as Wyatt started school, breaking into the realm of progress reports, making friends/enemies, learning beyond his Leapster and Harold and the Purple Crayon readings before bed. Our walk towards a new life around the playground on the rainy morning didn’t shock like finding your fly open while giving a presentation on data security to the board of directors. It was more about taking in and seeing the “Welcome to your first day of Kindergarten!” sign, watching the little guy go to work on the teacher’s aides and peppering them with questions 60 Minutes-style (as the parents hogged most of the teacher’s time to learn about how the precious one will return home each day), and taking a back-row seat to the little people’s flea circus around the miniature chairs and brightly colored affirmations that adorned the walls.
“Its Hard to be Five” by Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, that one, and I know there's better pics, I'm sure WCP or Al can help there) will be the first book read to his ears by someone not named dad, mom, or nana. First scrapes from the playground, first elation of an art project to hang on the fridge, and other firsts soon to come as this parenting marker is now behind us on one road but with more to come. To continue strolling along or in Wyatt’s case hoping my bad knees hold up while he sprints along this path.
I learn just as much as the guy with the new 20 color Crayola markers and glue stick set going back for his second day today. Maybe more.
Two days till the WCOOP at PokerStars. Are you in?
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