I still haven’t cashed in a Hoy tournament. Many tries, many losses, no cashes. Just can’t win that last coin flip to put me over the top.
But at least there were no bad beats, no laptop throwing, and best of all, I had fun. I wish I could say the same about the ring game I dabbled in while sparring for a shot at Australia in the second Battle of the Bloggers Part Deux tournament. An excellent turn out of 82 players, in addition to the 50 plus players from the Big Game on Sunday has added some buzz to these tourneys, as well as fattened up the prize pools.
I finished somewhere on the last three tables after my eights failed to outrace AK when the entire board came up with overcards.
Standard.
My accumulation of Sklansky Bucks over the past weekend wasn’t enough to win the one race when I needed it. After busting, I could only offer a “well played sir” comment to the little doggie that took my chips after getting his stack in the middle and him needing a runner runner non-pairing flush in the PLO8 cash game, causing me to walk away from a decent table due to the pubic rat build up of hair and other undefined gunk that clogged my normally good mood. A bad beat dollar will be given in Vegas to the person that gives me my first birthday shot at the appropriate time. Appropriate time does not include when Drizz is at a video poker machine betting max credits and drawing five until the money runs out. That might be a good time to sit him at the Money Wheel with a bottled water or find him a nice spot on the floor that does not include his wife in the close proximity, to pass out.
When it was time to turn off my busty nurse and say farewell to the well-wishing bloggers, a good Oatmeal Stout, comfy recliner, and some Point-of-view porn featuring a very excitable Jessica Simpson look-a-like, worked wonders to ease the soul back into complacency.
And get ready to do it again on Wednesday at the Mooooooooooookie. See you then.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
6 for 19 Is Good If You Are a Third Baseman
Doing a sack dance every time after knocking down a rookie quarterback who looks like a kindergartner who’s safety pin just came loose with his/her emergency information blowing away and now has to go to the bathroom, is bad.
High stepping into the endzone after re-fumbling the football on the way to the endzone is breaching Special Olympics territory. Vikings defense you are on notice.
I don’t know if the Vikes could have won with a semi-competent quarterback yesterday in Dallas, but I do know STARTING Chester Taylor is getting a little old. The joke was funny last week Coach Chilly, this week it cost them a chance to beat an anemic Romo in the second half (excellent first half by the soon-to-be Pro Bowler).
Is Jackson capable to lead this team for the next seven to ten years or do they need to start jockeying for draft position?
Viking tilt carried over to poker tilt to the tune of four buy-ins from various beats and trying to grab endless amounts of snacks for the little ones left me with a raw ass this morning that almost ruined what was a great weekend.
Poker is poker, you win, you lose but having your friends over for an entire day with a bonfire, good weather, good charred animals on the grill, plenty of booze, and a decent leaf pile to jump again and feel like your seven again can overcome any runner runner beat some internet donkey lays on you.
See you good folks in 46 days.
High stepping into the endzone after re-fumbling the football on the way to the endzone is breaching Special Olympics territory. Vikings defense you are on notice.
I don’t know if the Vikes could have won with a semi-competent quarterback yesterday in Dallas, but I do know STARTING Chester Taylor is getting a little old. The joke was funny last week Coach Chilly, this week it cost them a chance to beat an anemic Romo in the second half (excellent first half by the soon-to-be Pro Bowler).
Is Jackson capable to lead this team for the next seven to ten years or do they need to start jockeying for draft position?
Viking tilt carried over to poker tilt to the tune of four buy-ins from various beats and trying to grab endless amounts of snacks for the little ones left me with a raw ass this morning that almost ruined what was a great weekend.
Poker is poker, you win, you lose but having your friends over for an entire day with a bonfire, good weather, good charred animals on the grill, plenty of booze, and a decent leaf pile to jump again and feel like your seven again can overcome any runner runner beat some internet donkey lays on you.
See you good folks in 46 days.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Tom Brady Wishes He Was This Good
Two hours to SKOL! time.
Dallas Cowboys have a shot at the divine one today, if Coach Childress decides to take him off the bench. Or maybe they'll offer up a cheerleader to appease this god running against mortals.
The early game tilts aren't offering much for excitement as I just watched Jon Kitna try to throw it to himself and fumbled (call later reversed) and Tom Brady is trying to set an NFL record for most embarrassing loss given to a home team.
I don't ask for a win, I just ask for a watchable game.
Amen.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Cribbage Anyone?
The new in-window air conditioner from Sears and Roebuck sat humming while people moved about at a weekend pace. The cabin was built from the hands of seven brothers nearly fifteen years earlier and a few of them were in the yard adjacent to the filled window slinging horseshoes towards metal stakes. A crick ran along side of the horseshoe pits that offered some muck for the throwing partner should your aim be on par with Mr. Magoo without his glasses on.
Out front, as always, was this year’s demolition derby car that was being gutted from unnecessary glass and seats for this year’s Sherburne County fair. A box filled with spare parts and another holding Krylon spray paint of various colors to fill the old Cutless Supreme with the names of the sons, spouses, and grandchildren of the couple that raised the seven boys.
An ex-girlfriend called them “the little people” which is easy to say since she stood at 6’2” and me at a few ticks above that. What they lacked in height, the ability to portray strength was never a question when an order was shouted to one of their sons to “knock it off” during one of their many wrestling matches that resembled a hockey fight before punches were thrown not Hulk Hogan versus Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake.
Since my slender frame didn’t allow me to toss a horseshoe with the accuracy shown on the pitching mound (ok, I could just throw hard and scare the hell out of the batter into swing) I took up indoor games with my grandmother. All card games were played for money: Gin Rummy, Rook, Pinochle, Five Card Draw, and of course Cribbage. The slate of marble with hand drilled holes, the imperfect green magic marker dividing the holes by five, and golf tees of various colors as pegs, this board is where I learned world of the four suits and luck of cutting the right card for a 24 count.
Always with a smile she’d politely ask for her quarter after yet another defeat. As most of the readers here are poker bloggers themselves and I think you’d find 95% of them could describe their grandmother or grandfather that introduced them to their love of cards. Yet another tie we’ll find to this motley crew of professionals, degenerates, and professional degenerates.
This is short and sweet, just like her.
Rest in peace grandma, and as promised while you were in the hospice, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.
At least until we go to Vegas.
Out front, as always, was this year’s demolition derby car that was being gutted from unnecessary glass and seats for this year’s Sherburne County fair. A box filled with spare parts and another holding Krylon spray paint of various colors to fill the old Cutless Supreme with the names of the sons, spouses, and grandchildren of the couple that raised the seven boys.
An ex-girlfriend called them “the little people” which is easy to say since she stood at 6’2” and me at a few ticks above that. What they lacked in height, the ability to portray strength was never a question when an order was shouted to one of their sons to “knock it off” during one of their many wrestling matches that resembled a hockey fight before punches were thrown not Hulk Hogan versus Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake.
Since my slender frame didn’t allow me to toss a horseshoe with the accuracy shown on the pitching mound (ok, I could just throw hard and scare the hell out of the batter into swing) I took up indoor games with my grandmother. All card games were played for money: Gin Rummy, Rook, Pinochle, Five Card Draw, and of course Cribbage. The slate of marble with hand drilled holes, the imperfect green magic marker dividing the holes by five, and golf tees of various colors as pegs, this board is where I learned world of the four suits and luck of cutting the right card for a 24 count.
Always with a smile she’d politely ask for her quarter after yet another defeat. As most of the readers here are poker bloggers themselves and I think you’d find 95% of them could describe their grandmother or grandfather that introduced them to their love of cards. Yet another tie we’ll find to this motley crew of professionals, degenerates, and professional degenerates.
This is short and sweet, just like her.
Rest in peace grandma, and as promised while you were in the hospice, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.
At least until we go to Vegas.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Coach Childress Likes the Wacky Tabbacky*
Pauly must have sent the Vikings coach his finest herbal medicines.
Maybe Norv Turner will tell Tomlinson he's the fullback this week too.
I tried to play poker last night get my mind off of things but losing a $600 coin flip while playing $1/$2 PLO8 last night (Set vs. my super-duper I-can't-even-count-my-outs draw), told me it was time for bed and to put the solemn day to rest.
I still want to give my grandmother's passing on her proper due, as work has decided not give me two seconds to think straight (probably for the better).
On the lighter side, I am booked, locked up, in-like-Flynn for the WPBT trip in December for Friday thru Monday (all day NFL action shall not be missed this time). Finally found some cheaper airfare via NWA.com last night to seal up my third consecutive birthday I'll be spending with the likes of you degenerate gamblers.
See you then.
*disclaimer (because only someone hitting a bong harder enough to make the late Bob Marley choke on the smoke would call the NFL rushing leader "his number 2 running back")
Maybe Norv Turner will tell Tomlinson he's the fullback this week too.
I tried to play poker last night get my mind off of things but losing a $600 coin flip while playing $1/$2 PLO8 last night (Set vs. my super-duper I-can't-even-count-my-outs draw), told me it was time for bed and to put the solemn day to rest.
I still want to give my grandmother's passing on her proper due, as work has decided not give me two seconds to think straight (probably for the better).
On the lighter side, I am booked, locked up, in-like-Flynn for the WPBT trip in December for Friday thru Monday (all day NFL action shall not be missed this time). Finally found some cheaper airfare via NWA.com last night to seal up my third consecutive birthday I'll be spending with the likes of you degenerate gamblers.
See you then.
*disclaimer (because only someone hitting a bong harder enough to make the late Bob Marley choke on the smoke would call the NFL rushing leader "his number 2 running back")
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Battle of the Blogger Returns: Who Gets Flamed First?
As well as BadBlood and Derek played, I was exactly on the opposite end of the poker spectrum during the WBCOOP. Granted the card death had a little bit to do with it (I had AA once, got the blinds, saw no other pocket pair the whole time), eventually after folding more napkins then a waiter setting up a 500 person wedding reception, I pushed K9o when folded to and someone woke up with AK.
At least I got a chip count from Otis (drink on me in December for being an idiot sir). :)
Great job by PokerStars and Otis putting this on once again and the prizes were definitely a huge plus besides seeing old pens that have been collecting dust for a while. When is a small roller like me going to get a structure like that with a shot at having a rum and coke in the Caribbean? Sure, there’s the steps SnG that you could qualify starting at $7.50 for Step 1 but after seeing the lineup awaiting all the little fishies that swim upstream to hit the big pool in Step 6’s $2150 SnG that awards three packages, you’d need more then luck.
But poker is all about luck isn’t it?
Speaking of luck, bloggers have yet ANOTHER huge chance to hit up a big tourney in style with the second coming of the Battle of the Bloggers tournament series. Yes, your favorite weekly blogger tourneys complete with point system, flaming posts for playing those junk hands poorly from Hoy and Waffles, and now…
A chance at an $18,000 package to A U S T R A L I A for the Aussie Millions.
At least I got a chip count from Otis (drink on me in December for being an idiot sir). :)
Great job by PokerStars and Otis putting this on once again and the prizes were definitely a huge plus besides seeing old pens that have been collecting dust for a while. When is a small roller like me going to get a structure like that with a shot at having a rum and coke in the Caribbean? Sure, there’s the steps SnG that you could qualify starting at $7.50 for Step 1 but after seeing the lineup awaiting all the little fishies that swim upstream to hit the big pool in Step 6’s $2150 SnG that awards three packages, you’d need more then luck.
But poker is all about luck isn’t it?
Speaking of luck, bloggers have yet ANOTHER huge chance to hit up a big tourney in style with the second coming of the Battle of the Bloggers tournament series. Yes, your favorite weekly blogger tourneys complete with point system, flaming posts for playing those junk hands poorly from Hoy and Waffles, and now…
A chance at an $18,000 package to A U S T R A L I A for the Aussie Millions.
C’mon the people you’re playing against do stupid things like riding mechanical bulls after polishing off a tray of jello shots, do you really expect them to get in your way of a chance at playing in a major poker tournament?
Make sure you hit up Al’s site for up to the SoCo shot updates on this series that is bringing some serious swag into it for the weekly champs as well as the “Tournament of Champions” that will award the big prize.
See you there.
Thanks for dropping by, now I will attending the funeral today of someone who was very close to my heart, if I’m able to catch a few breaths in the next few days I’d like to give her the proper send off.
Monday, October 15, 2007
WBCOOP Conclusion
My World Blogger Championship of Online Poker story
By: Drizztdj
I didn't win the duffle bag.
The End.
That's the power of public education right there folks.
(I'll gloat about the Vikes beating the Bears tomorrow, and throw in a little actual poker being played as well)
Work kicking my ass, personal issue that I'll dip upon tomorrow.
SKOL!!!
By: Drizztdj
I didn't win the duffle bag.
The End.
That's the power of public education right there folks.
(I'll gloat about the Vikes beating the Bears tomorrow, and throw in a little actual poker being played as well)
Work kicking my ass, personal issue that I'll dip upon tomorrow.
SKOL!!!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Sundays With Dr. Pauly
To my fellow Sundays with Dr. Pauly competitors...
You're welcome for the money.
SKOL VIKES!!!!
I think its more, "please don't finish 1-15" versus "Let's build on this season for the playoffs next year".
Also, while you're watching Randy Moss suffer because I put him on my fantasy team, make sure you're logged into PokerStars today for the big World Blogger Championships of Online Poker.
The duffle bag will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.
You're welcome for the money.
SKOL VIKES!!!!
I think its more, "please don't finish 1-15" versus "Let's build on this season for the playoffs next year".
Also, while you're watching Randy Moss suffer because I put him on my fantasy team, make sure you're logged into PokerStars today for the big World Blogger Championships of Online Poker.
The duffle bag will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Rocky Mountain Highs
Easy poker decisions like calling off a last longer bet because you both made the final table of a small 90 Person MTT or having that fourth drink of liquid courage to get the sand out of your vagina and button raise the weak-tight former chip leader over and over till he pushes J3o into your AA.
Sorry I didn't take it down DP, but second didn't hurt either and a thanks to PokerPeaker who stayed up to try to rally me and the Rockies into a win.
At least one of us got there.
Sorry I didn't take it down DP, but second didn't hurt either and a thanks to PokerPeaker who stayed up to try to rally me and the Rockies into a win.
At least one of us got there.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Do Not Try This At Home
I tried to enjoy poker again last night as I logged on to do battle in the Mookie with my fellow internet scribes. But the online variety losses so much flavor when you played live with those very people just a week ago.
Guess I’ll have to put a stitch in my gash and wait a couple of months like everyone else.
Final table bubble in the Dookie, Final two tables in the Mookie net me four of sleep and minus $16.50 towards eight spot Keno at the Gold Coast in December. At least the conversation was well worth missing a few winks of sleep and I found out just how sexually unhip I am when the subject of vibrating condoms came up (literally?).
I didn’t know such things existed, since the last time I even tore open a Trojan Ribbed for Her Pleasure! Was to get rid of the severally battered, useless one that sat dormant in my wallet all through high school (I think I touched a boobie once though!). For the instructional video for this fabulous piece of latex, and the promise of several bOObie pics by the blog author, follow the linkzorz to Betty Underground.
Who knew women liked sex?
And now a public service announcement:
Alcohol and Mechanical Bull Riding don’t mix, please don’t prop bet and ride (or end up doing your best “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo” impersonations at the same bar for that matter). This could be you (minus the pasty white thighs of course):
Guess I’ll have to put a stitch in my gash and wait a couple of months like everyone else.
Final table bubble in the Dookie, Final two tables in the Mookie net me four of sleep and minus $16.50 towards eight spot Keno at the Gold Coast in December. At least the conversation was well worth missing a few winks of sleep and I found out just how sexually unhip I am when the subject of vibrating condoms came up (literally?).
I didn’t know such things existed, since the last time I even tore open a Trojan Ribbed for Her Pleasure! Was to get rid of the severally battered, useless one that sat dormant in my wallet all through high school (I think I touched a boobie once though!). For the instructional video for this fabulous piece of latex, and the promise of several bOObie pics by the blog author, follow the linkzorz to Betty Underground.
Who knew women liked sex?
And now a public service announcement:
Alcohol and Mechanical Bull Riding don’t mix, please don’t prop bet and ride (or end up doing your best “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo” impersonations at the same bar for that matter). This could be you (minus the pasty white thighs of course):
Also, getting a lap dance after such activity may be a waste of $20
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Is It My Birthday Yet?
Looks like the Wii is going to take care of my gym membership starting next year with the new WiiFit scheduled to launch (in Japan, grrrrrrrrr) in December.
Maybe I'll ship one to Fatty-Train so he can get back to 120 lbs. of fury easier.
To retain my poker blogger status I suppose some poker must be playing, and I'm itching to do so after reading about the WPBT Live tourney getting a solid grounding at the Venetian (yea BOOBIES and excellent tourney structure and more BOOBIES!!) and site of my humbling experience with the $8/$16 Mixed game (which I'll try again should the online Omatards wish to ship a few buy-ins my way before December).
Check out Falstaff's update on the tourney, and be sure to RSVP with what ever is left of him, pretty soon Falstaff and F-Train are going to be able to swap kilts. In a non-gay way of course. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Tonight, your job is to defeat the defending champion of the Mookie.
No, not at chugging a Guinness (I saw this live, don't waste your prop betting money) but at poker?
Yes, AlCantHang proved he can play poker of the two card variety and will be naming the Dookie to be played while the main tourney is going on (my guess is Limit Omaha 8 or better).
See you there, unless I fall asleep on the couch again tonight.
Maybe I'll ship one to Fatty-Train so he can get back to 120 lbs. of fury easier.
To retain my poker blogger status I suppose some poker must be playing, and I'm itching to do so after reading about the WPBT Live tourney getting a solid grounding at the Venetian (yea BOOBIES and excellent tourney structure and more BOOBIES!!) and site of my humbling experience with the $8/$16 Mixed game (which I'll try again should the online Omatards wish to ship a few buy-ins my way before December).
Check out Falstaff's update on the tourney, and be sure to RSVP with what ever is left of him, pretty soon Falstaff and F-Train are going to be able to swap kilts. In a non-gay way of course. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Tonight, your job is to defeat the defending champion of the Mookie.
No, not at chugging a Guinness (I saw this live, don't waste your prop betting money) but at poker?
Yes, AlCantHang proved he can play poker of the two card variety and will be naming the Dookie to be played while the main tourney is going on (my guess is Limit Omaha 8 or better).
See you there, unless I fall asleep on the couch again tonight.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Don't Be A Dick
If StB and The Rooster stop high-fiving each other for that Cowboys game last night (I admit it was one of the best finishes I've ever seen) maybe they'll be able to go to work today.
The thing about calling a time out right before the kicker hits a field goal, needs to go. I understand the whole "icing the kicker" ploy, but the gamesmanship of this move is on par with A-Rod shouting in that third baseman's ear to drop that fly ball or a stripper giving you a monetary amount in which she will go beyond the clothed bump and grind during a lap dance.
Dick Jauron, stop being an asshat and you're on notice for doing so.
For now, step into the altered world of Truckin' to begin your day if you haven't already.
http://mcgtruckin.blogspot.com/
Truckin' - October 2007, Vol. 6, Issue 10
And we're back...
1 AlCantHang and I Walk Into a Bar... by Paul McGuire
Whenever you walk into a bar with AlCantHang, you're immediately assuming full responsibility for your actions. You always know what you are getting yourself into. There's no false pretense. You will drink and drink and drink and drink as life unfolds around you. You surrender to the flow of the liquor... More
2. Morrissey by Betty Underground
I did my usual, obvious, snooping about, inviting myself in to use the powder room after the long drive. I knew my way around. I knew what it looked like the last time I was there. I was looking for signs. Girl things. Grown up girl things. A woman's touch in the decor. Pictures of the happy couple. Anything. Nothing... More
3. Driving to See Mama by John "Falstaff" Hartness
Well, there was six of us in that car, and we'd been drinking and smoking cigarettes since we left base, so when Briggs rolled down that window, all that smoke just chimneyed up out of that window and that policeman had to jump back... More
4. A Mawmag's Dream by Sigge S. Amdal
I was flirting, no, I was dancing with my own future's certain death. And why? There was no love to speak of. Love can come later in some cases, I know, but if there's nothing, no great emotion to ride on – why on earth was I still dancing? ... More
5. What Might Have Been by Sean A. Donahue
The struggles of life are few and far between. We walk through life looking for the elusive, looking for the elite, or looking to be the elite. Sometimes in our search for what we want, we find what we really need. But we are too self absorbed or blind to see it... More
What a Long Strange Trip It's Been...
From the Editor's Laptop: Welcome to the October issue Truckin' which features a gem from Falstaff and includes returning authors Sigge S. Amdal and Sean A. Donahue. This issue contains another installment of Existentialist Conversations with Strippers in a piece titled AlCantHang and I walk Into a Bar.... And we also have a story from Betty Underground. She's making her first appearance in Truckin' with an impressive showing by hitting a home run on her first submission.
If you like these stories, then please tell your friends about your favorite stories. It takes a few seconds to pass along Truckin'. The writers certainly appreciate your support. Feel free to shoot me an e-mail if you know anyone who is interested in being added to the mailing list.Thanks to the writers who exposed their souls to the world, and did it for free. Thanks for inspiring me and taking that leap of faith with me.Thanks again to everyone for wasting your precious time month after month with Truckin'.
Until next time.
Salukis,
McG
Tao of Poker -- http://taopoker.blogspot.com/
Tao of Pauly -- http://mcgrupp.blogspot.com/
Truckin' -- http://mcgtruckin.blogspot.com/
The thing about calling a time out right before the kicker hits a field goal, needs to go. I understand the whole "icing the kicker" ploy, but the gamesmanship of this move is on par with A-Rod shouting in that third baseman's ear to drop that fly ball or a stripper giving you a monetary amount in which she will go beyond the clothed bump and grind during a lap dance.
Dick Jauron, stop being an asshat and you're on notice for doing so.
For now, step into the altered world of Truckin' to begin your day if you haven't already.
http://mcgtruckin.blogspot.com/
Truckin' - October 2007, Vol. 6, Issue 10
And we're back...
1 AlCantHang and I Walk Into a Bar... by Paul McGuire
Whenever you walk into a bar with AlCantHang, you're immediately assuming full responsibility for your actions. You always know what you are getting yourself into. There's no false pretense. You will drink and drink and drink and drink as life unfolds around you. You surrender to the flow of the liquor... More
2. Morrissey by Betty Underground
I did my usual, obvious, snooping about, inviting myself in to use the powder room after the long drive. I knew my way around. I knew what it looked like the last time I was there. I was looking for signs. Girl things. Grown up girl things. A woman's touch in the decor. Pictures of the happy couple. Anything. Nothing... More
3. Driving to See Mama by John "Falstaff" Hartness
Well, there was six of us in that car, and we'd been drinking and smoking cigarettes since we left base, so when Briggs rolled down that window, all that smoke just chimneyed up out of that window and that policeman had to jump back... More
4. A Mawmag's Dream by Sigge S. Amdal
I was flirting, no, I was dancing with my own future's certain death. And why? There was no love to speak of. Love can come later in some cases, I know, but if there's nothing, no great emotion to ride on – why on earth was I still dancing? ... More
5. What Might Have Been by Sean A. Donahue
The struggles of life are few and far between. We walk through life looking for the elusive, looking for the elite, or looking to be the elite. Sometimes in our search for what we want, we find what we really need. But we are too self absorbed or blind to see it... More
What a Long Strange Trip It's Been...
From the Editor's Laptop: Welcome to the October issue Truckin' which features a gem from Falstaff and includes returning authors Sigge S. Amdal and Sean A. Donahue. This issue contains another installment of Existentialist Conversations with Strippers in a piece titled AlCantHang and I walk Into a Bar.... And we also have a story from Betty Underground. She's making her first appearance in Truckin' with an impressive showing by hitting a home run on her first submission.
If you like these stories, then please tell your friends about your favorite stories. It takes a few seconds to pass along Truckin'. The writers certainly appreciate your support. Feel free to shoot me an e-mail if you know anyone who is interested in being added to the mailing list.Thanks to the writers who exposed their souls to the world, and did it for free. Thanks for inspiring me and taking that leap of faith with me.Thanks again to everyone for wasting your precious time month after month with Truckin'.
Until next time.
Salukis,
McG
Tao of Poker -- http://taopoker.blogspot.com/
Tao of Pauly -- http://mcgrupp.blogspot.com/
Truckin' -- http://mcgtruckin.blogspot.com/
Monday, October 08, 2007
Key West Day 3: Dive For a Fistfull of Dollars
It was a dark and stormy morning.
Rain fell.
Thunder roared.
Talk show hosts stated blandly funny things. As a Monday morning commute to the office in a downpour could sour most people’s spirits for the entire day.
Not me.
I’m still waking up from last week’s visit to Key West as the final day at the southern most point in the U.S. was my time to mellow out and just melt into any sitting apparatus that was within reach.
After shaking off the previous day’s jello shots (foreshadow to ending), bull riding (OWWWWW!), and all-day bar crawl across Duval Street, the first order of business in the morning was to find some eats that didn’t suck. Thanks to keen a set of keen ears and a nose for good pizza, BG lead me and StB down to “The Upper Crust”.
Heaven, with sprinkles of parmesan clouds on top.
After weighing ourselves down with mozzarella, it was time for some relaxation time at the ACH compound. The beach house was the center of the laid back attitude one should have while visiting this party-centric city before the night life heats up. Plush couches and recliners, TV big enough to read the lips of the Michigan State quarterback barking out plays, and a deck complete with bar, mini-pool, and Jacuzzi.
When Kyra wouldn’t sleep, Wyatt wouldn’t settle down, and my wife decided yesterday to point out every little thing I was doing wrong… that beach house is where I went in my mind with a chilled OJ drink that Pauly whipped up, and some of BG’s fabulous bacon wrapped fillet with potatoes that left the taste buds wondering why I neglected them up to that point.
After the marathon poker game that lasted all-day and up to the time DonkeyPuncher dusted himself off the cowboy bar’s floor from doing the worm, the final group of person’s at the ACH compound headed out to “the dive bar” for the last bit of debauchery.
Say what you will about “fancy” strip clubs, but in my extremely limited view as two of them visited in the last five or so years, the dive bar totally outshone the “classy place”. The women gave you the fantasy of making you feel attractive and wanted versus going through the motions as one would while banging out TPS reports at your cubical on a dreary Monday morning. Hell, I got quizzed for five minutes about my marriage with the fishnet (and only a fishnet) clothed exotic dancer who would catch my eye for a dance. “Are you faithful to your wife?” asked the lady in a creamy voice that could be mistaken for verbal Viagra. I almost said I don’t have enough money to be unfaithful tonight, but I must admit to enjoy actual conversations, even if that conversation carried a price tag.
(as a disclaimer, I got a high five from the stripper after telling her “I’m just here for the fun, and you’re providing as much as I wanted” as she revealed she was married too, how I got that out of her is beyond me)
Many shots were consumed, questionable fabrics of clothing were flying about (of the male variety), and I left around three a.m. not with the defeat most persons many feel after leaving a den of friendships that cost twenty dollars for 2 minutes and 10 seconds, but with a Cheshire Cat smile that I got what I came to do.
I was relaxed, I had the slow buzz that started Friday night and would allow me to sleep comfortably, and I’d go home with a memory that would I save for anytime I felt I couldn’t keep my shit together anymore.
Thanks for dropping by, now this video from Pauly allows the viewer to step inside to madness that is Bobby Bracelet downing jello shots from the saucy Cuban waitress (or it could have been the one who smelled like strawberries). How he stays vertical the rest of the night despite the walking stick/pool cue is beyond me.
Rain fell.
Thunder roared.
Talk show hosts stated blandly funny things. As a Monday morning commute to the office in a downpour could sour most people’s spirits for the entire day.
Not me.
I’m still waking up from last week’s visit to Key West as the final day at the southern most point in the U.S. was my time to mellow out and just melt into any sitting apparatus that was within reach.
After shaking off the previous day’s jello shots (foreshadow to ending), bull riding (OWWWWW!), and all-day bar crawl across Duval Street, the first order of business in the morning was to find some eats that didn’t suck. Thanks to keen a set of keen ears and a nose for good pizza, BG lead me and StB down to “The Upper Crust”.
Heaven, with sprinkles of parmesan clouds on top.
After weighing ourselves down with mozzarella, it was time for some relaxation time at the ACH compound. The beach house was the center of the laid back attitude one should have while visiting this party-centric city before the night life heats up. Plush couches and recliners, TV big enough to read the lips of the Michigan State quarterback barking out plays, and a deck complete with bar, mini-pool, and Jacuzzi.
When Kyra wouldn’t sleep, Wyatt wouldn’t settle down, and my wife decided yesterday to point out every little thing I was doing wrong… that beach house is where I went in my mind with a chilled OJ drink that Pauly whipped up, and some of BG’s fabulous bacon wrapped fillet with potatoes that left the taste buds wondering why I neglected them up to that point.
After the marathon poker game that lasted all-day and up to the time DonkeyPuncher dusted himself off the cowboy bar’s floor from doing the worm, the final group of person’s at the ACH compound headed out to “the dive bar” for the last bit of debauchery.
Say what you will about “fancy” strip clubs, but in my extremely limited view as two of them visited in the last five or so years, the dive bar totally outshone the “classy place”. The women gave you the fantasy of making you feel attractive and wanted versus going through the motions as one would while banging out TPS reports at your cubical on a dreary Monday morning. Hell, I got quizzed for five minutes about my marriage with the fishnet (and only a fishnet) clothed exotic dancer who would catch my eye for a dance. “Are you faithful to your wife?” asked the lady in a creamy voice that could be mistaken for verbal Viagra. I almost said I don’t have enough money to be unfaithful tonight, but I must admit to enjoy actual conversations, even if that conversation carried a price tag.
(as a disclaimer, I got a high five from the stripper after telling her “I’m just here for the fun, and you’re providing as much as I wanted” as she revealed she was married too, how I got that out of her is beyond me)
Many shots were consumed, questionable fabrics of clothing were flying about (of the male variety), and I left around three a.m. not with the defeat most persons many feel after leaving a den of friendships that cost twenty dollars for 2 minutes and 10 seconds, but with a Cheshire Cat smile that I got what I came to do.
I was relaxed, I had the slow buzz that started Friday night and would allow me to sleep comfortably, and I’d go home with a memory that would I save for anytime I felt I couldn’t keep my shit together anymore.
Thanks for dropping by, now this video from Pauly allows the viewer to step inside to madness that is Bobby Bracelet downing jello shots from the saucy Cuban waitress (or it could have been the one who smelled like strawberries). How he stays vertical the rest of the night despite the walking stick/pool cue is beyond me.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
A Break From Irish Kevin's
Due to issues completely made up, I'll be finishing up the Key West write up tomorrow.
But I did have a question for all persons out there based on a comment made by my Key West travel mate BG:
Would you rather have a stripper put her thumb up her ass during a lap dance, or would you lend your thumb for the deed just to say "I once had my thumb up a strippers ass"?
But I did have a question for all persons out there based on a comment made by my Key West travel mate BG:
Would you rather have a stripper put her thumb up her ass during a lap dance, or would you lend your thumb for the deed just to say "I once had my thumb up a strippers ass"?
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker
I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!
This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.
Registration code: 5456698
Key West Day 2: Taking the Bull By the Horns
Getting up these last few days have required a little extra effort from the last effects of bar-lag seeping out of my body. After making the usual morning drive through the leaf covered neighborhood and trying to detach my Velcro handed daughter off to my parents; I hopped on the interstate towards the place that pays Wells Fargo once a month for the right to come back to a home each evening.
Along the final stretch a stop light suddenly turned Big Bird yellow and much like the last two days in Key West… I sped on thru.
There’s times when social responsibility come into play like your child’s birthday party and others when insulting someone’s mother to push them to scratch on the 8-ball during a match to win $20 while the waitress brings another round of Jag bombs is perfectly normal.
Friday afternoon was spent at the abode of Ernest Hemmingway with several of our group following the author’s look-a-like tour guide around the home for about an hour. Despite the just ran a marathon with canoe on your back type sweat dripping from my shirt, it was fun to learn all about the “local” author who penned (as I learned) nearly half of novels in the smallish bunk house that was adjacent to the main house in his short time taking residence in Key West.
The group had funneled back to Al’s place where the Entourage-like crew of Speaker, DP, DP’s brother, and the artist formerly known as Bobby Bracelet made their appearance after tearing up South Beach the evening prior with their mass consumption of wine coolers and Zima. And the special-super-secret guest that was to be revealed came through the door but it wasn’t until the shin-high blogger took a right hook to my knee cap that I noticed it was Iggy!
Key West > Playboy Mansion especially if you can impress your wife that you don’t need to stare at bouncing, overpriced silicone objects all night (and wish him a happy 4th blogger birthday!). After a short round of poker which was live blogged by StB and showed my inability to let go of my precious pocket 9s cracking the beautiful Change100s Aces, we walked to Turtle Kraals for the weekly turtle races and some badly needed eats.
After a couple of rounds of “The Lager” (which is the best economical beer on the planet and I hate the fact they don’t carry it in Minnesota) it was time to watch the five reptiles battle it out for the chance to not become turtle chowder at the restaurant as you enter the Key West area. Using the time-honored tradition of fading ANYTHING DP and Bobby bet on, I chose #2 which of course decided to chase its non-existent tail the whole time as DPs turtle ran like he left his credit card at a strip club.
After the race, if your turtle won you received a key out of about 100 of them to open a chest with a cash prize inside ($225 going up $25 each race). While no one opened the chest, the Monty Hall-esqe announcer definitely added to the fun.
“Did you know the bar me and StB hit up this morning has the boxing game?”
The reaction from the guys was parallel to announcing Jessica Alba was in stall #2 giving out free blow jobs.
The Big ‘Uns Bar and Grill muscle shirt was stretched to the max across the waitress’s chest as if she wore her corporate pride like a star employee of a Fortune 500 company might wear a carefully crafted Armani business suit into the office. They had all our entire group required for a prop betting heavenly night.
Boxing machine – check
Pool tables – check
Big Buck Hunter – check
Waitresses with attitudes – check
Galaga machine nearby to kick Speaker’s ass – check
Note to self: stick with right handed prop bets on the boxing machine in the future and when your wrist starts to tingle its time to quit
After a flurry of 5s, 10s, and 20s exchanging hands at the various games, we ended up at a cowboy bar where the main attraction wasn’t the Bud Light selling blonde greeting ya’ll in the entrance, but rather the evil looking mechanical bull surrounded by a kids moon walk sponsored of course by the King of Beers as well.
“Take off my glasses? I’m drunk enough as it is and you want me to be blind too????”
Five brave souls attempted the cow-printed saddle to ride for nine seconds just like on TV without the dangers of getting impaled by a pissed off bull that weighs more then the 757 I rode back home. Only one person couldn’t handle the first round of riding (not named to protect the drunk errr… innocent), as the second round we were warned “we’re going to kick it up a notch”. Yeah, like going from leisurely stroll down a dusty trail on a faithful horse, to crack-addicted bull who hasn’t had a fix in two weeks.
The bar was set high at five seconds as I hopped back on the saddle with a sore wrist that was obtained by manly boxing punches at the other bar not a need to relieve myself thank you very much. How I managed to not spray the Stetsons and our group with hot wings puke after six seconds is beyond me as I was tossed from the steed with the same violence of a hip check from behind.
“Ow”
Something is wrong with my groin, as I felt as if I just took in a lap dance from a Krispy Kreme calendar model. Walking back down Duval Street, I probably moved about like I just took a backdoor delivery without the Astroglide.
All in the name of a good time that would continue tomorrow.
Thanks for dropping by, now feel free to search the above linked sites for better reports.
Along the final stretch a stop light suddenly turned Big Bird yellow and much like the last two days in Key West… I sped on thru.
There’s times when social responsibility come into play like your child’s birthday party and others when insulting someone’s mother to push them to scratch on the 8-ball during a match to win $20 while the waitress brings another round of Jag bombs is perfectly normal.
Friday afternoon was spent at the abode of Ernest Hemmingway with several of our group following the author’s look-a-like tour guide around the home for about an hour. Despite the just ran a marathon with canoe on your back type sweat dripping from my shirt, it was fun to learn all about the “local” author who penned (as I learned) nearly half of novels in the smallish bunk house that was adjacent to the main house in his short time taking residence in Key West.
The group had funneled back to Al’s place where the Entourage-like crew of Speaker, DP, DP’s brother, and the artist formerly known as Bobby Bracelet made their appearance after tearing up South Beach the evening prior with their mass consumption of wine coolers and Zima. And the special-super-secret guest that was to be revealed came through the door but it wasn’t until the shin-high blogger took a right hook to my knee cap that I noticed it was Iggy!
Key West > Playboy Mansion especially if you can impress your wife that you don’t need to stare at bouncing, overpriced silicone objects all night (and wish him a happy 4th blogger birthday!). After a short round of poker which was live blogged by StB and showed my inability to let go of my precious pocket 9s cracking the beautiful Change100s Aces, we walked to Turtle Kraals for the weekly turtle races and some badly needed eats.
After a couple of rounds of “The Lager” (which is the best economical beer on the planet and I hate the fact they don’t carry it in Minnesota) it was time to watch the five reptiles battle it out for the chance to not become turtle chowder at the restaurant as you enter the Key West area. Using the time-honored tradition of fading ANYTHING DP and Bobby bet on, I chose #2 which of course decided to chase its non-existent tail the whole time as DPs turtle ran like he left his credit card at a strip club.
After the race, if your turtle won you received a key out of about 100 of them to open a chest with a cash prize inside ($225 going up $25 each race). While no one opened the chest, the Monty Hall-esqe announcer definitely added to the fun.
“Did you know the bar me and StB hit up this morning has the boxing game?”
The reaction from the guys was parallel to announcing Jessica Alba was in stall #2 giving out free blow jobs.
The Big ‘Uns Bar and Grill muscle shirt was stretched to the max across the waitress’s chest as if she wore her corporate pride like a star employee of a Fortune 500 company might wear a carefully crafted Armani business suit into the office. They had all our entire group required for a prop betting heavenly night.
Boxing machine – check
Pool tables – check
Big Buck Hunter – check
Waitresses with attitudes – check
Galaga machine nearby to kick Speaker’s ass – check
Note to self: stick with right handed prop bets on the boxing machine in the future and when your wrist starts to tingle its time to quit
After a flurry of 5s, 10s, and 20s exchanging hands at the various games, we ended up at a cowboy bar where the main attraction wasn’t the Bud Light selling blonde greeting ya’ll in the entrance, but rather the evil looking mechanical bull surrounded by a kids moon walk sponsored of course by the King of Beers as well.
“Take off my glasses? I’m drunk enough as it is and you want me to be blind too????”
Five brave souls attempted the cow-printed saddle to ride for nine seconds just like on TV without the dangers of getting impaled by a pissed off bull that weighs more then the 757 I rode back home. Only one person couldn’t handle the first round of riding (not named to protect the drunk errr… innocent), as the second round we were warned “we’re going to kick it up a notch”. Yeah, like going from leisurely stroll down a dusty trail on a faithful horse, to crack-addicted bull who hasn’t had a fix in two weeks.
The bar was set high at five seconds as I hopped back on the saddle with a sore wrist that was obtained by manly boxing punches at the other bar not a need to relieve myself thank you very much. How I managed to not spray the Stetsons and our group with hot wings puke after six seconds is beyond me as I was tossed from the steed with the same violence of a hip check from behind.
“Ow”
Something is wrong with my groin, as I felt as if I just took in a lap dance from a Krispy Kreme calendar model. Walking back down Duval Street, I probably moved about like I just took a backdoor delivery without the Astroglide.
All in the name of a good time that would continue tomorrow.
Thanks for dropping by, now feel free to search the above linked sites for better reports.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Key West Day 1: I Shall Survive
“Are we there yet?”
This omnipresent question could have been uttered before, during, or after my recent foray to and from the Al Can’t Hang Compound, bunkered on the southern most point in Key West, Florida. Since my last trip to the land of oranges, hurricanes, and Disney characters was nearly 20 years ago with my parents and younger siblings and consisted of begging of one more ride on “It’s a Small World After All” at House of the Mouse, I was only sure of one thing…
I wouldn’t be as sober this time.
The trip started with the beautiful Gracie picking me and BG from the Fort Lauderdale airport with the weather starting to get a little stick-your-shirt-to-your-body-from-sweat-hot outside. Air conditioning > *
Passing up temptations to hit up the Hard Rock Casino and two or three race tracks, we headed to Key Largo to pick up Sweet Sweet Pablo at his parent’s place. “Would you like a beer?” ask the gentleman with the fluffy white beard. Of course I’m never one to shy away from such offers and since the seven dollar Cap’n Coke at the airport didn’t even register, I felt a cold beer while stretching my little legs would certainly be welcome.
Pablo hopped into the captain’s seat for the remainder of the journey towards Key West as I was amazed by the many bridges we had to cross to reach our destination of the place Ernest Hemmingway once called home (we’d find out more about the author later…).
“What was the bar called again?” as me and BG wandered around The Westin hotel walking down the boardwalk in face of several street performers, a band/dj from a deckside bar, and including what appeared to be a sword swallower that had a dialogue streaming from his mouth that I couldn’t understand. Finally after walking down to the end of Duval Street (which would become our drinking destination for the remainder of the weekend) we found several totally visible internet friends waiting with drinks and laughter in hand as we arrived.
Maudie, F-Train, Bacon Bikini Mary (lemme know your blog link!!), Pauly, StB, Lewey, Landow, Big Mike and of course the reason we were down there, AlCantHang celebrating 40 years of life. After the initial hellos were passed out and listening to a fairly good band that played at the marina, my memory gets a little fuzzy due to a drink that knocked me (not literally) on my ass called a “Sunburn”.
“I think I’ll take things slower so I don’t have a repeat of Vegas”
When you’re trying to hang with Al, drinking in moderation means tipping back a beer in-between shots. We would leave as a group for Duval Street and its plethora of bars, each with its own vibe which made the experience even more fun. Live music at each venue, combined with me remembering to snack on something since the stale pretzels on the plane certainly wouldn’t soak up SoCo shots and Yuenglings.
I’ll continue to this tomorrow as my head is still a bit swimmy from all the travel. When your usual commute home is ten minutes along a county road and Sunday’s was nearly fifteen hours with a connecting flight, I still feel the effects of traveling by plane, train, and an automobile.
I’m entirely graceful to those who’s friendship I count on, and hope the next time we meet I don’t end up with bruises the size of Lake Superior on my inner thighs… (picture might be taken after I down another bottle of Advil). Tomorrow, the boys are back in town, friendship bought at 2 minutes 10 seconds a time, and teaching city folks how to hit things.
Thanks for dropping by, now hit up Pauly’s write up of why you shouldn’t shoot at virtual deers for money against someone who’s actually shot at bambi before.
This omnipresent question could have been uttered before, during, or after my recent foray to and from the Al Can’t Hang Compound, bunkered on the southern most point in Key West, Florida. Since my last trip to the land of oranges, hurricanes, and Disney characters was nearly 20 years ago with my parents and younger siblings and consisted of begging of one more ride on “It’s a Small World After All” at House of the Mouse, I was only sure of one thing…
I wouldn’t be as sober this time.
The trip started with the beautiful Gracie picking me and BG from the Fort Lauderdale airport with the weather starting to get a little stick-your-shirt-to-your-body-from-sweat-hot outside. Air conditioning > *
Passing up temptations to hit up the Hard Rock Casino and two or three race tracks, we headed to Key Largo to pick up Sweet Sweet Pablo at his parent’s place. “Would you like a beer?” ask the gentleman with the fluffy white beard. Of course I’m never one to shy away from such offers and since the seven dollar Cap’n Coke at the airport didn’t even register, I felt a cold beer while stretching my little legs would certainly be welcome.
Pablo hopped into the captain’s seat for the remainder of the journey towards Key West as I was amazed by the many bridges we had to cross to reach our destination of the place Ernest Hemmingway once called home (we’d find out more about the author later…).
“What was the bar called again?” as me and BG wandered around The Westin hotel walking down the boardwalk in face of several street performers, a band/dj from a deckside bar, and including what appeared to be a sword swallower that had a dialogue streaming from his mouth that I couldn’t understand. Finally after walking down to the end of Duval Street (which would become our drinking destination for the remainder of the weekend) we found several totally visible internet friends waiting with drinks and laughter in hand as we arrived.
Maudie, F-Train, Bacon Bikini Mary (lemme know your blog link!!), Pauly, StB, Lewey, Landow, Big Mike and of course the reason we were down there, AlCantHang celebrating 40 years of life. After the initial hellos were passed out and listening to a fairly good band that played at the marina, my memory gets a little fuzzy due to a drink that knocked me (not literally) on my ass called a “Sunburn”.
“I think I’ll take things slower so I don’t have a repeat of Vegas”
When you’re trying to hang with Al, drinking in moderation means tipping back a beer in-between shots. We would leave as a group for Duval Street and its plethora of bars, each with its own vibe which made the experience even more fun. Live music at each venue, combined with me remembering to snack on something since the stale pretzels on the plane certainly wouldn’t soak up SoCo shots and Yuenglings.
I’ll continue to this tomorrow as my head is still a bit swimmy from all the travel. When your usual commute home is ten minutes along a county road and Sunday’s was nearly fifteen hours with a connecting flight, I still feel the effects of traveling by plane, train, and an automobile.
I’m entirely graceful to those who’s friendship I count on, and hope the next time we meet I don’t end up with bruises the size of Lake Superior on my inner thighs… (picture might be taken after I down another bottle of Advil). Tomorrow, the boys are back in town, friendship bought at 2 minutes 10 seconds a time, and teaching city folks how to hit things.
Thanks for dropping by, now hit up Pauly’s write up of why you shouldn’t shoot at virtual deers for money against someone who’s actually shot at bambi before.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Better Then Counting Sheep
Laying down on the couch with beer du jour and maybe some Triscuits on a Sunday afternoon is my time.
Kids are asleep, wife is usually busy with a book or her scrapbooking, and on the electronic television is some form athletic competition. For most of the year, I'll watch a golf ball being struck towards impossible pin placements and envy those who manage to not bounce those Titleist off the roofs of the multi-million dollar homes that line the 11th hole fairways. And once the beer is 2/3rds gone I'll drift into a slumber fit for large grizzly bear.
With the Vikes on, I'll grab my #99 personalized jersey and yell at the TV for two hours regardless of their record at the time.
But good grief, how bad can an offense be before you just cash it in, and just watch the only thing worth spending a few brain cells viewing.
Purple Jesus.
Much like watching golf and hoping that Tiger is near the top of the leaderboard to make it interesting to watch, if Peterson isn't catching a screen pass or running over a cornerback, I'll be catching up on my nap time.
Kids are asleep, wife is usually busy with a book or her scrapbooking, and on the electronic television is some form athletic competition. For most of the year, I'll watch a golf ball being struck towards impossible pin placements and envy those who manage to not bounce those Titleist off the roofs of the multi-million dollar homes that line the 11th hole fairways. And once the beer is 2/3rds gone I'll drift into a slumber fit for large grizzly bear.
With the Vikes on, I'll grab my #99 personalized jersey and yell at the TV for two hours regardless of their record at the time.
But good grief, how bad can an offense be before you just cash it in, and just watch the only thing worth spending a few brain cells viewing.
Purple Jesus.
Much like watching golf and hoping that Tiger is near the top of the leaderboard to make it interesting to watch, if Peterson isn't catching a screen pass or running over a cornerback, I'll be catching up on my nap time.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Ship It To New York
The limit specialist got it, the hottie didn't 3-bet pre flop with KK and my limp two pair was drawing dead after the turn (leave your ID in the comments I'll transfer it Sunday).
I'm off to the cabin, most likely the last time this year so hold a seat for me at the blogger tourneys as winter approaches and Minnesotans will soon be forced to start their six months of hiberation.
I'm off to the cabin, most likely the last time this year so hold a seat for me at the blogger tourneys as winter approaches and Minnesotans will soon be forced to start their six months of hiberation.
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