Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Is It the Reverse Herschel Walker Trade?

I'm not a Timberwolves fan since I don't care much for basketball outside of some college hoops, but I am a Minnesota sports fan.

A true fan would applaud Garnett going somewhere with the talent besides him to make a run to an NBA Championship that would never happen here. Just the chance, not the title itself is deserved.

As for the trade itself, the T-Wolves received the same crappy pot of players when WallyWorld was shipped off a couple of years ago. I don't expect this "young" group of players to fill the stands at the Target Center anytime soon except for the first month of the season when there's "promise" and "hope" of a new basketball era in Minnesota.

With Garnett gone, and Kirby no longer among the living, is Joe Mauer ready to step up as the state's face and voice in professional sports? Sure hockey is extremely popular here, but I don't see Gabby as being the consumate "ah' shucks" Minnesotan with the flair of a top-tier athlete. If not, at least you'll see at least 10,000 kids at Joe Mauer Sideburns night for the next couple of years.

Best wishes to Kevin on the shot he has always wanted, and R.I.P. T-Wolves, hopefully Crunch the Wolf and those hot dancers will find some work at a Wild's game because the next five years are really going to test if professional basketball is here to stay in the Twin Cities or if the ghost of Herschel Walker has come back to don some high tops and bring exciting new talent to resurrect a failing team.

Thanks for dropping by, now condolences to another well-liked professional... Bill Walsh, you stay classy sir. (bad pun, but fitting)

Edit: From the father-in-law... here's a video that should help the Vikes reach the Super Bowl this year. Stop laughing.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Pop Is a Midwest Thang Ya Know

Its good to know I don't suck. At least not to the point where I'd quit ranting about overpriced, underpoured drinks at Green Mill.

Yes, I'm talking to you Ms. Bartendress in the ruffed uniform and boobies protruding far enough to make the buttons scream for mercy. Why do you think that a five dollar Cap'nCoke should be poured into a rocks glass, with ice to the rim, AND served with flat Coke???

"All fountain pop is flat, its the way its supposed to taste"

Granted I'm no Al, BigMike, or StB. I'm a weekend warrior, a rank amateur of the bar scene, but I DO KNOW THAT FLAT POP = SHIT TASTING MIXED DRINK. If the fountain machine isn't working just offer a different drink, I'm flexible with a hint of calm, but don't lie to my face with two kiddies bouncing around.

Guys weekend will remain in my head instead of paper and internet typed letters, as a good time should be. One properly cooked T-Bone, and one too many nickels wagered on Let-it-ride made for our annual weekend of married guys that need a few days of getting up at noon without the guilt.

Thanks for dropping by, now have you ever tried to call a bartender/waitress on their BS only to have them continue shoveling themselves a conversational grave?

Friday, July 27, 2007

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Shop Smart! Shop S-Mart!

You’re the store manager of a local iconic retailer which is subject to brief store inspections. Every once in a while a group from headquarters sends a bunch of suits and district managers to check out the planograms and facings to make sure the store is presentable and profitable. The markings on the Microsoft Outlook calendar designate today’s the day for 56 retail “experts” to drop by the store for a gathering on ideas on how the store could improve its profits.

You make sure Danny, the spunky 20 year old that shows up with a spotless smock every day for the past four years comes in a little early to make sure all the deodorant is facing correctly. Julie, the aspiring team lead, is hoping to impress the suits enough to get plucked for a ripe headquarters job. She’s busy in her intimate apparel section making sure bras are lined up by cup size and there’s no perverts in the changing rooms trying to get a glimpse of Mrs. Walther trying on some boy short lace panties that are two sizes too small but wants to relive her youthful years.

The store is ready for the march through the aisles of Amy Grant CDs, LCD TVs, plush down comforters, and the new grocery section that has provided a boost in foot traffic. Your store manager badge is pinned in perfect alignment with that crisp polo shirt purchased off the company website and you flash a Crest white strips brighten smile as the group enters the store.

Then all hell breaks loose.

The tour begins by walking by the vaunted grocery section where it seems the freezer isn’t freezing and the Edy’s cookie dough ice cream is suddenly making cream colored puddles on the floor. A tour to the back stock room finds sounds of erotic pleasure going on in the candy aisle as Danny is found with a Baby Ruth bar in places mother nature didn’t intend while Sondra the cashier, who is also the daughter of one of the retail experts in the group, is eating the candy bar while donning a topless devil woman costume (complete with blow up pitchfork!) from the seasonal Halloween shipment that came in early.

To top it off as the grumbling group made its way out of the store to turn this store into a miniature golf course and bumper car playland, the lights go out and since the doors are controlled only by electronics to prevent someone entering with a key, they are all locked in.

Horrible timing last night Full Tilt with the outage of the BBT freeroll.

You cost us a rant post by Waffles which means more then my early double stack I attained with outflopping a better hand versus radio extraordinaire BuddyDank. I assume we’ll restart the tourney fresh and new, giving everyone an even keel because “it’s the right thing to do”. I’ll plug my two cents if asked, but for now I’d be too opinionated because I was one of the early chip leaders (which means shit knowing my ability to donk away chips while leading).

It was a great series and I sincerely hope this little setback doesn’t detour any possible future blogger challenge series because I had a blast despite not being able to play many events as I’d like.

Thanks for dropping by, guys weekend is upon me and if all goes well, I’ll remember few holes of golf along with donking away a few nickels at the blackjack tables. See ya Monday.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

From Big Daddy Drew Himself: A Vikings Preview


God blessed this man with 14th level funny that only few other on Earth could approach.

One author here questions the absence of their #1 pick being part of the preview...

Chewing Gum Stops Dam From Bursting

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Down And Out in Beverly Hills

Lindsay, why do you do this to me?

Come to Minnesota. I will treat you to sandwich and good wholesome fun in exchange for your views on why hot actresses need to burn themselves out on eight balls while smashing up SUVs (hi Tara Reid!!).

I want my Lindsay fantasies back :(

Anyone have a new chick to ogle at besides Keeley which sets the bar so high that only her EE tits could reach?

Monday, July 23, 2007

Burned, Fried, and Broken

Suffered two bad beats this weekend:

Wife took the new Harry Potter book before I could.


That means you Chilly.

And not being able to lay down trip kings to someone playing K9o under the gun during Midnight Madness tourney at Full Tilt with Speaker. Can you put people on a hand in that tourney?!?!

But, the rest of the weekend was spent on the diamonds watching the wonderful world of co-ed softball and trying to keep my composure as the tight shorts and tigher jerseys made pitching nine games into the championship a little work. I was surprised by the competitiveness of the game versus the usual 25-1 affairs that most coed games consist of. Maybe a switch is in order to preserve whatever athletic efforts I can produce in the future. But, knowing Wyatt will be tearing up the t-ball leagues next year, may mark the spot when its my turn to cheer from behind the chain linked fences as he did this weekend.

Thanks for dropping by, now if you haven't read Pauly's farewell to the 2007 WSOP post, run don't walk to the Tao.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Becoming A Poker Blogger Again?

I think I've pounded out more pokery stuff in the last two weeks then I have all year. Now you may ask, why is Drizz up at 2:30am knowing full well his wife will wake him up at 5:30am to attend to the kids?

Was he drinking with Daddy and Speaker while donking away his meager online roll?

Surfing Redtube for midget fisting porn?

Mezmerized by the Ronco chicken flipping over and over?


Because I had to bring one home for the good guys, and April :)

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I Was Neither Here or There

I don't know which was more disappointing while playing poker with my close, invisible internet friends last night:

- Slogging to a 4th place finish in the Mookie after entering the final table with a slight chip lead.

- Losing 1.5 buy-ins at the $10max PLO tables to luckbox Alan who managed to strip the freeroll winner's of all their pennies and was up six buys when I left.

- Playing Razz for an hour and managing to get past fourth street twice a silently cursing Al for coaxing me into playing that sadist game.

One hand history for those who get a rise out of such things, I thought it was an fairly easy fold, but I'm not one to play for moving up the ladder and thought it might have been a decent spot to take a flip for maximum gains after looking back at it:

Four people left in the Mookie, stacks are 25K under the gun, 56K on the button, 40K in the SB, and I'm at 31K in the bb:

UTG raises to 6K, Button repops for ~20K, SB folds, you hold AKo

Blinds are at 1000/2000/200 (ante might be wrong)

Your move.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Was The $19.95 Worth It?

Jerry Yang wins the WSOP with a runner runner straight after the chips were in on a coin flip.

A question to those who purchased the PPV final table coverage:

Was it worth it? If it wasn't for a softball game that ended up to be a forfeit I might have forked over the cash.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Assholes: Everyone Has One

Main Entry: jour·nal·ist
Pronunciation: -n&-listFunction: noun
1 a : a person engaged in journalism; especially : a writer or editor for a news medium
b : a writer who aims at a mass audience
2 : a person who keeps a journal

Main Entry: jour·nal·ism
Pronunciation: 'j&r-n&-"li-z&m
Function: noun
1 a : the collection and editing of news for presentation through the media
b : the public press
c : an academic study concerned with the collection and editing of news or the management of a news medium
2 a : writing designed for publication in a newspaper or magazine
b : writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation
c : writing designed to appeal to current popular taste or public interest

Main Entry: 130 Pounds of Fury
Pronunciation: F – Tr - ain
Function: Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb, Exclamation, Gambler

1a: Systematically destroys the 10-20 and 20-40 limit hold em’ games at the Borgata
2a: Manages to give away stacks to Dawn Summers at “Crackhouse Games” (see: “New York Donkey Poker” definition entry)
3a: Calls out “Journalist” for silly things like “not fact checking”

Well played sir. Well played.

Make F-Train’s open letter to CBS Sportsline your just ate the last cruller read at work and see as he describes, who is the true enemy behind our beloved game getting pushed underground.

Monday, July 16, 2007

The Slinky Is Back!

The midnight blue Shelby Matchbox car with pimped rims and Steve McQueen coolness, the plush red football with Oklahoma across its puffy skin, and faux Fisher-Price blackberry with stylus pen that counts 0-10 and sings along to your ABCs. These items sit at the bottom of the toy chest placed strategically in the corner of the family porch if there’s such a time that the kids deem these toys to be the most important thing to play with again.

There was a fit thrown at Target a year ago when we walked past the Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars without allowing our son to pluck one off the shelve. At the time we relented for sanity sakes at the time due to several late nights with a little girl that had Pavarotti’s lungs implanted.

While eating at Perkins one evening with the parents and enjoyed the chicken fried steak with skin on whipped potatoes and gravy, my son spotted the skill crane in the front lobby. Two tries for a dollar would have to wait until my wife finished her taco salad bread bowl. Sure enough, right when the last black olive was downed, my son made a beeline for the skill crane to await his father’s deft touch in obtaining badly sown stuffed animals. Since the Mickey Mouse doll was buried, I saw my only chance to score was the Oklahoma football sitting on Mickey’s right ear.

The ABCs would be repeated infinitely after my son’s second birthday party since the Fisher-Price toy did not have an off button and would only cease the mind numbing warbling after several minutes of inactivity. Of course if thrown in a toy chest, something is bound to start it up again while retrieving the new toy of choice.

This weekend, I reached into the toy chest of old, discarded playthings, and found the cash games at PokerStars to be much better then squawked about on several websites. The interface was still appealing, and the players were lined up to push all-in with less then suited aces at the NLO8 and PLO8 tables, which made my balance there gain a few ticks. Its true that the games are not a merely bet the nuts and win as they were one/two years ago, but rather a softer crowd of nut-peddlers that can be pushed off pots with ease and those players you can value bet until that $50 you spent at Pebble Creek Golf Course over the weekend, along with the box of Titleist which found a new home among the trees and ponds, are all paid for thanks to the anime avatar in the second seat that just couldn’t let go of that third nut low draw.

Over this summer there hasn’t been the opportunities to sit down with a cold beverage and grind away at these games versus my 10pm please-don’t-fall-asleep-watching-Sportcenter-and-blogging-while-playing “sessions”. To call that poker would be like Barry Bonds calling himself humble. Which is why I’ve been forced to play with new toys like turbo SnGs and even gambOOOling it up in the $1/$2 and $2/$4 games versus slightly tougher competition.

Smart? Maybe not, but no one has ever accused me of being intelligent before.

Thanks for dropping by, now that Scotty is gone, will Lee be able to take it home for the Pros and stop short stacking at the $.50/$1 Omaha games at Full Tilt?

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Easy Mode

Despite playing the game a total of three times (and getting booed off the stage twice)... why am I geeked out about Guitar Hero III coming out soon? I'm sure Wheaton and Alan are planning all-night camp outs or spamming Amazon to be the first to get their hands on the new game whereas I will not be standing in front of Toys R' Us at 6am with temperatures that could freeze a coffee faster then Ichiro rounded four bases in the All-Star Game last night.

No news, no drama today as you should be deferring your attention to the many bloggers covering the WSOP Main Event (which the final table live coverage was advertised for $19.95 on ESPN last night). After watching a bootleg link to it last year it was some of the best poker coverage I've seen and might be worth a few big blinds to pick up.

Thanks for dropping by, now welcome Online Poker Report to my little corner of the web as they provide a wide berth of online poker information on a clean-cut page that's very easy to follow. Hell there's even a slice of PAI GOW! strategy there, go check it out :)

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Humidity Is Not Welcome At Home

Fool me once shame on me.

Fool me twice, get some chop socky judo to the face and pay off a week’s wage for downing two meals and running from the bill.

Smart people we have here in the great white north.

I’ve been at odds lately due to homelife being less then the ideal. If your dream home life is the picket white fence house in the suburbs, wife, 2.3 kids, steady 9 to 5, and some decent steak and potatoes being served nightly for dinner, I’ve been drifting along just fine. But, the gray area of depression has been hovering above our home for years like a thick, saturated cloud of humidity that turned minor things uncomfortable due to the irritability factor.

Getting snapped at was something I took in stride most days, thinking “that’s just her personality”, while other times the trivial rebukes got under my skin enough to voice something less then pleasant back, in order to keep from getting verbally whipped like Mrs. Otis’ mousy airplane companion that wouldn’t stand up to his wife. I believe in equality at home although I’ll defer most arguments for the sake of not sweating the small stuff. Unfortunately the small stuff has been piling up for years and after getting home from Vegas I could see a change was needed if we could continue loving each other like the day we met back on a decrepit ball field while taking our first glances at someone we’d be looking at across the bed for the next ten years.

“I think you should see a doctor” was my constant plea, which was answered by a cold shoulder that was seemingly all too familiar after Kyra was born. Last week, she finally agree to talk about her depression with a doctor thus beginning what I hope is a return to the vibrant woman I married before the long nights of parenthood and my many years of disabled status have worn down on both of us.

My love for her hasn’t changed, and my reads on her are likewise but to see her wrapped up in the grips of depression that I myself battled for a length of time I knew something needed to change for us, for our kids, for our friends/family.

Thus, we start hopefully a new life as a couple, which was tested last night when the little one woke up feeling hot like a Las Vegas sidewalk during the middle of summer. 103 read the Target bought thermometer, cold bath, dad getting peed on after taking the teeth shivering toddler out of the icy water, and yet there was no stress to working as a couple to care for sick little one who wouldn’t touch her dinner that should have been a forewarning since her normal appetite is fit for the Nathan’s Hot Dog eating contest.

Maybe we’ll finally get to live as a family versus walking on thin balloons, hoping they won’t pop to set off an argument. Time will tell if I’ll be around here in the future to chat inanely about my tepid life that many people live, but it’s the life that tailor fit to my specifications.

Thanks for dropping by, now I apologize as usual when I break these type of posts but a brain dump is the best tonic I know besides a carefully crafted Cap’n Coke of course.

P.S. Yes I’ve been playing poker, and yes the O8 games are treating me nicely, and yes you'll be able to take my mobneys again soon :)

Monday, July 09, 2007

Today It Was A Good Day

I think that was my longest self imposed blogging vacation I’ve taken since the great Alberta Bankroll Clipper of aught five. Even then I tried to hammer away “I lose again” posts night after night as the @#%!%@ and !$!#%#%#$^ comments piled up when my juicy bankroll kept taking hits like Pauly and Change100 in an Amsterdam hash house.

Three words that make sleeping a wee uncomfortable when the humidity percentage and temperature in Minnesota are above 90: No Air Conditioning

Cabins are like that and to be expected but when the ice cubes in my Cap’n Cokes disappear faster then I can make the sweet nectar go down my throat its time to call out Mother Nature for being an unforgiving bitch. No one likes a warm drink that’s supposed to be served cold. At least the Chimay stayed cool enough Saturday night to cap off another enjoyable time up north minus the thirty pounds of sweat that leaked from my internet poker site t-shirt thru the floorboards of the deck.

Back to Vegas for one more day as your dejected and rejected hero was exiting the poker tent in the back of the Rio while remembering yet another line from Rounders as Mike McD was dropping off cargo for a small market talking about “taking a shot and missing”. Its true. No one remembers those who take their shots and miss, they don’t end up with their mugs splashed on major blogging sites with wide smiles about the “hometown” champ taking down a five to six figure score for the good guys. But, I’m not humping a job I don’t want, nor am I regretful for the way the cards laid on the table as I busted out. If anything, it fueled my desire to return next year if Harrah’s keep this big ball of yarn called the World Series of Poker together and lays out my preferred variation of poker again. Grind the cash games, hit a tourney score, or hit a seven card straight flush in PAI GOW, whatever it takes for me to sit next to Joe Hachem and turbo mullet dude while seeing Pauly, Otis, Change100, CC, Spaceman, and everyone covering these carnival games under the big top at the Rio next June/July.

I want to go back, and next time come back with more then a story.

On the last day me and Spaceman met up with Speaker at the Tilted Kilt due to their exquisite chicken strips, hot waitresses that can hold a conversation using multi-syllable words, and an array of beers that you don’t find at a townie bar in Minnesota (unless you like 15 variations of Schmidt or Blatz). After carefully crafted plans were set, the Venetian would be our last flay into the Vegas poker trip for me and Speaker, as Spaceman had a little thing with Bluff that kept him in Vegas for a couple more weeks while motoring around in a PT Cruiser not designed for those who shop at the local big and tall store. Would it hurt some at Chrysler to add a few inches to the roof so the static electricity in my head didn’t short out every light in the Venetian parking lot?

The run-walk scoot was used to get to the poker room quickly, this method is favored by women who shouldn’t wear spandex yet do to my annoyance while exercising, due to the daily tourney starting in under double digit minutes. After swaddling across a sea of pretty people we reached the poker room where I’d take my second shot of the trip.

$8/$16 Mixed Game

I’m dead money in a NLHE tourney, but a mixed game has my interest and an open seat. Why blow $185 when you can lose $400! But, it would last me all night as this was an eye-opener to the live game I’ve wanted to play since I started shying away from playing all hold em all the time.

The lineup: Omaha 8 or Better, Razz, Stud, Stud 8 or Better, A-5 Triple Draw, 2-7 Triple Draw, and Badugi

Dealer, do you have one of those handy card charts you sell in the gift shop for people who don’t know how to play these games? A rack was $400 not $100 as they used $4 chips and $1 antes for the Stud games. The action was fairly high, especially with the drunken Wisconsin native not named Steve on my right. He reeked action like Grubby on an eleven o’clock run to cash in five different slot casino comps before they expired at midnight. KQ8T showing in Razz on sixth street? No problem, RAISE IT UP! Guess he didn’t see the game change while complaining about the worst tasting chicken strips ever (I even got to sample them, not horrible with honey mustard). The camaraderie amongst the table was high despite the variance in age, height, gender, weight, color, and geographic location. It felt like the blogger tables at the MGM Grand during the various WPBT tourneys except the denomination of chips and inside jokes about the beloved seven-deuce offsuit.

But, between me and Spaceman who took over for a couple of Razz and Badugi hands, my stack was left at $28 which I took off the table before throwing it away while waving goodbye to the improbably stacked waitresses that defied every physics class I ever attended with her watermelon sized boobs and steams of beauty cut high enough to make a chastened priest blush with every Cap’n Coke served. Blinders, of the newly minted Fantasy Sports Live website, was still plugging away with a medium sized stack late in the tourney with three to the money as me and Spaceman decided to turn my meager $28 to $100 with a little –EV donk-a-lympics.

One bet on the field line in Craps, if won, one hand of PAI GOW!!

The field bet took a little wrangling as I stepped up to table with gentlemen eye-fucking the 20 year younger blondes they were attached to, and got shushed away by some no-neck in a tux telling me it was a private table. Nice buzz kill asshole.

But, the next table welcomed my scraps with open arms as Steve Perry sang loud enough to knock the two cubes so they came to rest on one and two, PAY THE FIELD! $56, lets play some PAI GOW! $50 minimum bet? Usually the signs detour low rollers like myself as much as the “Salon” high roller baccarat games with denomination chips that would pay off my house with one natural nine for the player. We were men on a mission, and the lovely asian dealer laid out a new spread just for us as I placed $50 into the betting circle, $5 for the bonus, and $1 because she looked lonely and needed the $3K if I hit the 7-card straight flush. Hmmmm… an ace, another ace, a jack, another jack, but no boat. Aces over jacks ma’am, one time please.

She doesn’t PAI GOW so I didn’t get to wake the grumpy high rollers with a ceiling rattling yell better left for the $5 tables, but I walked away with my one chip of high society. Down $300 for the visit to the Venetian but hoping back into the silver PT Cruiser with my smile intact after another quick glance at those walking bowling balls carrying alcoholic beverages.

We capped the night with the nocturnal Otis (fresh off a grumbling defeat at the poker tables) and $10 PAI GOW back at the Gold Coast where making the ice queen pit boss proved to be fun as my Cap’n Coke count got further and further lost with every cigarette I annoying borrowed into the single hours of the morning. Is it hokey that I “felt alive” being surrounded by friends and degenerate of all sorts over a card game designed to eventually empty my pockets? I was a little too loud, but I didn’t care, I was happy and I knew it, so I clapped my hands and shouted PAI GOW for all to hear.

Thanks for dropping by, now if anyone is up for getting together to put the World Pai Gow Blogger Tour on the map of activities during our next meet sometime in December, I have my bonus bet and annoying list of things to say to the dealers/pit bosses ready.

Monday, July 02, 2007

Real Life Comes Fast

I'll be back a in few days, as me and the wife have some personal matters we need to attend to.

I promise to wrap up the trip report once things are worked out.

Thanks again for the pic Otis, awesome job you've been doing.