Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Pull the trigger and the nightmare stops

Happy post Memorial Day! I hope everybody out there memorialized to their fullest.

I was just happy to have the day off work. I slept late and had brunch with Empire and Da Bruiser. After my banana bread french toast (sounds fucking delicious and doesn't quite live up to the expectations) we walked over to a house they are thinking about putting an offer on. Nice place with a huge backyard and it would be perfect for them.

After that it was time to roll over to Grant Park for some sportage. I managed to throw a frisbee over the fence and MD scaled it in short order. To get back over he climbed a tree and it was an interesting sight to see him drop from out on a limb to terra firma unscathed. I swear, that boy brachiates too much.

Afterwards it was time to relax. I had not showered in the morning because Da Bruiser and I were supposed to play tennis (opted for brunch followed by general sportage instead). I decided it was bath time. Now, I really enjoy a good bath. I had nothing on my schedule for the rest of the day so it was the perfect time to get down to some serious soaking.

If you are familiar with my five beer bath technique this was a variation on the theme. This was a Six Beer Bath. The only problem was I did not have a book that I was interested enough in to read for more than an hour. I walked to my bookshelf and then turned around and threw a cat toy over my shoulder. It landed on a Dragonlance book (original series) and it was what I was going to read (I brought Alastair Reynold's Pushing Ice in as a backup, but it wasn't needed). Turns out (thanks, Barry!) I'm still enough of a dork that it made for good reading.

The first album was At the Drive In Relationship of Command and I was enjoying it very much, but something was wrong. I was sweating too much! In the bath! So I got up and moved the box fan into the bathroom. Glorious, just glorious. I also took advantage of this side trip to up the beer count to six from four, as I now knew was in for the long haul. I did have to get up one more time from my ablutionatorium to put in The Grey Album.

It is a truly sublime experience to have the contrast of the piping hot water and a nice cool breeze. A wonderful way to spend two hours on a holiday. A great weekend where I did absolutely nothing.

Well, I did see a few movies. We'll go from worst to first (backwards of how I saw them). Last night I watched Idiocracy and I don't recommend that anybody else wastes their time on this piece of steaming cinema crap. Even after a six beer bath and a couple of Jack and Diets with dinner it was horrible.

The night before LB and I went out to see Spiderman 3. If you want to see a big budget summer blockbuster that has a plot and dialogue that are inversely proportionate to the budget than this is your movie. (A quick aside: I still don't understand why they don't brighten up Kirsten Dunst's teeth in post production. Really, it can't be that difficult. We're talking about barely post Tron technology here people. Invest a couple more bucks to make my moviegoing experience a little better.) This is modern Hollywood at its finest and it makes me ill. Again, I had some beers and then some Jack and Diets (damn, I love the Highlander for it is a great bar) before the movie and it still didn't help.

Now, the best of the lot. I saw Running with Scissors the day before that. This movie did not require any alcohol to make it palatable (that is not to say I didn't have a couple beers, just that it didn't need it). There were plot holes but it moved at a good pace and had some good lines. So, if faced with a choice of seeing one of those three movies you now know which one to go with.

Maybe this weekend I can bump it up to a seven beer bath.

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Friday, May 25, 2007

Let the end come swiftly and with mercy

I don't know why, but I'm inspired. No, not by the Lord but rather by Doug's habit on Fridays of posting a random, or not so random ten songs. I had a great random playlist entertain me on the drive to work this morning. To drive in the ANTA you need to be aggressive, B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E. You have to be a Type A driver with rabies. You can't be the kind of person who just strolls through malls (or Vegas walkways for that matter). You see and opening and go for the jugular. If you are going to be on the connector you have to have the proper mindset and the following songs really helped get me there.

1. Brena by A Perfect Circle -The brooding tones and deep bass on this song are a good prep while on surface streets. Maynard James Keenan & Co. let you know that it is time to throw down. As I prepare to pull onto the highway we get....

2. Before Dishonor by Hatebreed -Damn. "I will not be a victim." The throwing down is here. It is not only time to kick it, but also time to punch, beat with a chain, and set it on fire. Then it is time to go after its family. I think I scared the pretty blond in the Honda next to me. Time to merge from I-20 onto the connector.

3. Do That Thing by The Halo Benders -OK. I get it. Time to take it down a notch. Can't be too eager to merge into the eight lanes of 75/85. Don't want to have some idiot in a bimbo box trying to emulate my driving and kill themselves. I'll blaze a slightly slower path over to the fast lanes.

4. Surprise! You're Dead! by Faith no More -Yup. Surprise, bitches. I'm captain of this roadway and you need to recognize or you know what will happen to you.

5. Caffeine by Faith no More -I guess the shuffle feature isn't working so well. But then again, I do have a lot of FnM. But I do know that it is time to pop open my can of Coke Zero and bask in the glory of Mike Patton's voice.

6. Have a drink on me by AC/DC -Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I have nine hours at work first, then it is time to go to Trader Vic's and drown the sorrows of the workweek. Oh, and Bernard's birthday or bar mitzvah or something. I wonder how they Polynesian up a Jack and Diet. Maybe they garnish it with a pineapple. All I know is that AC/DC can get a party started.

7. The Suffering by Coheed and Cambria -Slow it down a little, but keep the heavy. Good, I'm at my exit anyway. That bitch who just cut me off is lucky Hatebreed isn't still playing. Shit bitch, there are two exit lanes. You could do what I'm doing and accelerate past the slow shitbox and then get over. You don't need to cut me off then slam on your brakes to get behind him. Pedal on the right bitch. I give her a vigorous thumbs up instead of a middle finger salute as I pass.

8. Kicked it in the Sun by Built to Spill -The Live at the Showbox version. Perfect. I'm pulling into the parking deck and the dulcet tones of Dough Martsch are washing the adrenaline from my bloodstream. Time to slow my roll and clock in. The crowd goes wild.

Well, it wasn't a full ten songs but it is a short commute. After chaining myself to my computer I find out we have a call out. Great. Just bloody beautiful. We're shortstaffed already because it is the Friday before a long weekend (and already down seven people).

I need some more Hatebreed.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Never trust anybody named Sodomy Pete

I realized this week that I work with idiots when I heard the following statement:

"Did you see Little Man? That movie was great. It was sooooo funny."

I waited for somebody else to castigate my coworker but it didn't happen. He then asked me if I saw it. I responded "Excuse me, I have to take a bathroom break."

I guess make that I realized again that I work with idiots.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Vegas Trip Report Part Deuces Never Loses

Nothing quite like getting a trip report in a week and a half later. Since my memory is well, shitty (nothing to do with alcohol Mom, I swear), I will just hit the highlights.

I wake up the morning (1157 is still technically morning) and think that Kuro is still asleep. This is due to natural brain fogginess and the fact that I'm not wearing my glasses and blind as a Ray Charles at the bottom of a cave without them. I shower and get dressed and when I come out of the bathroom discover what I thought was Kuro asleep on the other bed was actually a pillow and some paper. I find him downstairs knocking over a soft game. After we lunch I jump into his table. I get a run of good cards and end the session up 160. This is my last winning session for a while.

I proceed to go on a bad run where I hemorrhage large stacks of chips despite getting good hands. I get myself back even at the tables and continue to play even though my instincts tell me to leave. This continues through a few different casinos. I don't listen to my instincts until after this next hand. I'm at the Excalibur playing 1/3 and look at two black aces in MP. UTG limps then folded to me where I pop it to 15 (it doesn't matter if the initial raise is 7, 12, or 15), the button and then UTG limper call. Flop is rags with two diamonds. UTG checks, I bet 125% pot, button folds and UTG calls. Turn is a diamond and I know I'm beat. I call the turn and river for the promise of spinning the wheel in the corner for having Aces cracked. I call 40 bucks on those two streets as the lowest denomination on the wheel is 20. I spin the wheel and it lands on Triple! Hot damn, now I am making back those two streets for sure. Second spin is 30 so I have 90 bones in my pocket and I'm leaving this fucking table. Oh, and what were her suited cards to call UTG with? The ever so strong K8. Always worth calling a raise from UTG, don't you agree?

Normally I don't mind playing at a table where people will call with any two suited cards. But in the short session I was there I had never seen so many flushes hit! Sets no good. Straights no good. That turn or river will bring a flush card. Always. No questions asked. No, I don't believe in cards being due or the rest of that crap, but this table was fucking jinxed. An anti-flush chicken needed to be sacrificed on the felt.

Fuck it, time to get drunk. Back to Bally's. I want my Jager with Jack and Diets backer flowing freely. As can be expected, I bust with the hammer. I became a shorty when my trips got dominated by a hidden boat (3s full) and decide it's time to roll. The dude who busts me I had seen rebuy four times (after two he had to go the ATM) and was sitting next to Ohio (I always call random people at the table by their state's name, especially if you look like are from there. So if you look cornfed and are from Ohio or Nebraska, you now have a new nickname) who had that 3s full boat. As I'm bidding the table adieu and shaking hands all around rebuy machine says "Sorry about that. I'm the worst player at this table." I respond "I know. I think everybody here knows that." Dude gets mad for me agreeing with him! He then claims to be up 5k for the trip, but I don't see how if he is going to the ATM to reload. Eh, tomorrow is another day.

I hit a couple of good tables and get back even. Most notable was a very drunk guy at the Flamingo who looked like Steve Irwin. He would go all-in in any position with a pocket pair. He put a dude on tilt who called with AKs and didn't improve against pocket 4s. When put in the same situation I folded my big slick and he showed his deuces. This isn't a tournament and I'm not going to risk my stack on a coinflip, especially when I know there will be other chances. Dude gets his all-ins called preflop two other times, both QQ vs. QQ resulting in chops. He has been cut off for a while now due to incredible inebriation. Kid (heh, he was two years older than me) who had called with big slick was on a jihad against him (really dude, you were a dog). In pursuit of "justice" he gives Steve Irwin a beer that was destined for my gullet because it arrived while I was in the restroom. It was a push as I really didn't need another at that time Steve was good for the table.

Kuro and I decide it is time to move cash out and move on as we had both done pretty well at the table and Steve Irwin was down for the count. He cashed out behind us having turned about 1k into $158. On the way back on one of the bridges some people were trying to give out hugs. As the cat remarked "The pickpockets sure have gotten inventive." My response was to mime zipping down my fly and saying "Hug deze." Hence, the mouth-hug was born. So, if you ever need to really tell them how you feel just ask for a mouth hug.

We continued hitting poker rooms up and down the strip and I developed a blister on my left foot from too much walking in old Adidas Spezials. There were no more extreme bankroll swings until the last session. We had checked out of the PH and went in search of a few more tables before catching the redeye. The PH's tables sucked. The Paris room was shit again (even though Kuro had a good night there previously while I was getting my hammer busted). What to do? Back to Bally's for some serious donking!

I get seated next to this talkative guy Sean who is pounding Long Beach Iced Tea's. I loosen up and decide it is time for the Miller Lite's to flow. I limp from almost any position with small pairs or suited connectors. Raise from any position with suited Broadway. Flopped straights held up, and turned straights were caught after being priced in. It was a thing of beauty. I was stacking folks with sets. That will teach them to minraise my bet the motherfucking toasters. I was surprised how many people would call after me putting them all in. TPTK no good, bitches. Hell, two pair no good. My set of deuces never loses, especially to a raggedy TPSK.

There were a few interesting hands I wasn't in. Sean bets from early (he didn't really like Shaun of the Dead so deserves what is about to happen to him), dude I had stacked twice reraises, and dude on his left rereraises. Tight Asian fellow on my right disgustedly throws away his QQ after tanking for 45 whole seconds. I say "Hmmm....three bets is 99.9% what again?" right as Sean pushes followed buy a fold and instacall. Sean had AhKh and dude had two black Aces. It of course holds up. I don't understand how you call against telegraphed Aces. Dude might as well have had a neon sign over his head that said "Aces, come and get them!" and showgirls behind him doing the patented Aces dance.

An orbit and a half later it is tight Asian, new loose Asian fellow, and new kid in a limped pot. Flop 2K3 rainbow. Half pot bet from tight Asian called all around. Turn is a K and tight Asian bets half pot again. New Asian intapushes and kid next to him instapushes. TA tanks for about 5 minutes. He puts his hand out like he is going to throw it away. Loose Asian's eyes are darting at the pot, at the kid, at his hand, at the dealer, doing a mile a minute. Kid doesn't look as nervous, probably because loose Asian does. TA eventually calls. River is a 6 and nobody wants to show. Loose Asian flips K4, kid flips KQ and tight Asian sits there for a minute. Then he flips the deuces for the turned boat. Deuces never loses.

After 45 minutes of nobody playing a hand against me I set my sights on the table Kuro is at. He has been spinning lurid tales of the loose Russian with 1.4k. I have turned my 200 into just under 1k and doubling through that guy would be a great way to cap the trip. The table is a good mix of players and Kuro was having fun at the table. On the hand that he had AA v KK I folded my 33 to the steadily growing pot. I would not have hit, but had KK two hands later and got no action on my flopped set.

The Russian dude's hot daughter comes and picks him up, the girl next to Kuro leaves and the table is just floundering. Kuro folds to my button raise with KcTc and starts packing up. The Japanese kid to his left calls me and Kuro is cashing. I tell him "Let me hit my flush and then I'm out of here." The rest of the table gets up and the brush comes over to count down the box and close the table once the hand is done. Flop is a rainbow giving me an OESD so I bet pot. JK deliberates for a minute and then calls.

There is nobody at the table but myself, the dealer, and JK. Turn is Ks giving me top pair and putting two spades on the board. JK stares at the flop for about 4 minutes then bets. I tell him he's all in (he is about 45 behind) and start feeling good when he doesn't instacall. He takes about 7 minutes and then I ask the dealer if I can call time. The brush comes over and informs JK that he has 1 minute. At this point I don't care. His last 45 doesn't mean shit to me. If he has two pair so be it, I'll give up this pot if the river doesn't help. I just want to get out and celebrate my win. I'm racking up what I have and it is just under two racks of red (a personal best) while chatting with Kuro. JK keeps putting his hand with the chips over the pot and then pulling it back. When the brush informs him his time is up he drops the chips in. The river is a nonspade rag and I flip my hand. He flips over As7s for a busted flush draw.

I tip the dealer a couple of reds and flip a red to the previous dealer of the table and tell him that I no longer considered him a cooler. He and the current dealer were wearing the same nametag because it was his last day and had forgotten his own. I had gave him shit the entire time he was at the table about being a cooler for me as at the previous table he dealt me second best hands (that I folded, mind you) during his entire shift then had done the same after he pushed into the last table I was at. I continued to chat with him, the current dealer, the brush, and Kuro while I grabbed my manbag (a bike messenger bag I carry everywhere) and tried to carry two plus racks and my beer up to cash out.

That is when I realize JK is still sitting in his seat. He hasn't moved or said a word. He is sitting there looking dejected. It is very creepy as it has been quite a period of time since the hand ended. As they count out my $1196 I find myself sneaking a look out of the corner of my eye at him. The brush walks over to me JK shouldn't have been in the hand at all. I guess I looked a little abashed that I had crushed JK's world. Kuro and I discuss how creepy it is as we walk to the car. His theory was that I had finished off JK's bankroll for the trip. I hope it was that simple and it wasn't his rent money or somesuch.

Kuro and I decide that we just want to grab a drink and kill the last 4 hours before our flight. That is when the Teabagg'd discussion really takes off. It had originally come up around the mouth hug time. Being teabagg'd is the poker version of being Punk'd. We are driving to The Palms and just are being silly and talking about how many people were teabagg'd on this trip and in what fashion.

The Palms isn't really jumping but we don't care as we just want some alkie for celebration time. The Mint is the lounge just off the high roller room there and somehow stocks Leinenkugel Sunset Wheat and not Budweiser. Um.....score! They stock eight beers (Mickeys, MGD, MHL, Lite, Peroni, Fosters, LSW, and some other one I can't remember) so the poker gods were with us that night because that was like hitting our one outer on the river. We are ridiculously tipping the buxom bartendress and just enjoying ourselves. I promise Kuro that the first two tequila shots at the airport are on me, the third we will high card for, but the fourth shot he is buying.

We are just shooting the shit and generally basking in the glow when this Filipino guy drinking a Coke comes over and starts talking to us. He just wants to know how we are doing. Kuro tells him that I'm Australian (the cooler dealer was Australian) and I claim that Kuro is from Seattle. Damn, I can barely do and Australian accent! The only one I have is based on Foster's commercials and watching Crocodile Dundee about three times. At least I based Kuro's fake persona on a city he lived in! Fucker. Kuro tells him that we are planning and upcoming wedding in Hawai'i. After a truly bizzarre conversation for about ten minutes Kuro asks him to leave because it is our wedding that we are planning! First I have to be Australian, and now I have to be gay (not that there is anything wrong with that)! I guess I'm Australian for bear.

We have one more uneventful beer and start rolling toward the airport. We leave the car at the gas pump and walk over to Jack in the Box after the lure of Andes shakes. After dropping off the rental at the new rental pavilion we get to the airport an hour before the flight. That does not leave too much time before the flight for tequila, but it does leave enough. The first two shots go down real smooth. Time to high card! Kuro draws a six and I think it is in the bag. I draw......a six! Fuck! He grabs the next card down for the prettiest card in the deck and I'm sunk. I don't even remember what I drew but just walked up and bought the last top shelf tequila in the bar. When Kuro went up to purchase the final shots we had to drink regular Cuervo because we didn't have time for the bartender to call his manager to get the key and unlock the next bottle of the good stuff.

We file onto the plane and Kuro spends the preflight trying to hook me up with the girl in the row ahead of us. It doesn't work (duh) and I spend the next few hours sleeping most fitfully. Kuro sleeps like a baby because every time he does open his eyes he's staring at the rack of the hot chick on his left. Every time I open my eyes (every 10-15 minutes) I see his mug or the aisle, neither of which is my idea of something pleasant to wake up to.

We land in Charlotte for our connection and have 15 minutes to go three concourses and it just so happens our gate is at the end of the concourse. Passing the second concourse is when my blister breaks and the limping begins. I think Kuro will agree with me that US Air will never be my first choice for flying again. Delays on both flights out (waiting for deadheading US Air employees no less), and bad connection scheduling on the way back equal a big Fuck You to US Air.

We land back in the ANTA around 1000 and I'm a happy camper. The trip more than paid for itself and I don't have to be at work until the next afternoon. Time for a relaxing bath and catching up with Loki. Turns out the Empire had bought a Wii while I was out of town and it was set up at my apartment (he was catsitting for me). Score! Time for an afternoon nap after the bath.

Wow, if you made it to the end of this post I owe you a cookie or a beer. You can try and collect but I get to choose the beer.

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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Meme Deze

Well, Gnome tagged me for this meme thing. 7 random facts that give you absolutely no insight into my true personality (you hear that Dr. Holsenbeck? you don't know me, bitch! bedwetting does not make you a pyro with a midgets in stockings fetish!). I will get back to furthering the trip report at a later time.

1. I read every fiction novel written by Kurt Vonnegut in four days back in 1994. I was on vacation with my father for spring break. We drove down to the Keys towing the boat and I had a bit of spare time on my hands. All of his books (except my favorite, Bluebeard) still are jumbled together in the old noggin.

2. As noted above, I'm read rather quickly. At a point in my life when I was in the throes of full blown alcoholism and a heavy smoker books were still my most expensive addiction. I would finish a novel every two days. My life went wake up, go to work, read during every break (even while waiting for the elevator for 45 seconds), drink and read at a sandwich shop, then drink and read at a bar, then go home and read, repeat all weekdays. Weekends were the same but with the work being replaced by TV watching. Thankfully I'm better now and spend more money on food (witness my fat ass), good whiskey (a bottle will last longer than two days) and only buy one new book a month (and shoplift six).

3. While loving the sweet, sweet lure of ethanol I cannot drink gin. It all goes back to my sophomore year of college when a friend of mine who had never drank decided tonight was the night when he was in my dorm room. A buddy down the hall had gifted Lito and I with a Tanqueray gift set of vodka, gin, and extra dry gin. Steve got lit and proceeded to yak Pine Sol smelling vomitus on my floor. I left him in the dorm communal toilet (we have all been there) and cleaned up the floor. To this day I cannot drink gin unless it is well concealed in an expertly mixed Long Island Iced Tea. I am no longer friends with Steve (even though I succeeded in turning him into an alcohol consuming machine) because while he was in his twenties he started dating a 15 year old.

4. I have never had a one night stand. I have turned down one night stands, though. Partially through some misguided notions of chivalry and honor, but mostly because I had more drinking to do. I actually turned down a stripper from the Pink Pony (I found out two days later her occupation) because I had a long distance girlfriend. I am such a putz.

5. I'm a little obsessed with cooking. I will stay up until 0200 to watch Good Eats if I missed the earlier episode. People always ask me who taught me to cook and I want to punch them. I'm self taught (don't let my mother within 20 yards of pork if you want it to be edible. this is not to say my mother is a bad cook, she just turns pork into dried out leather) and enjoy making my own recipes out of conglomerations of other people's recipes. Btw, the beef stew I made last night was really fucking good. I have now had it for three meals in a row.

6. While I'm technically an Eagle Scout, I bluffed my way into it. When switching troops at the age of 15 I claimed merit badges that I had not earned (completely erroneously of course!) and then turned in my paperwork for the Eagle award the day after my 18th birthday. My Eagle project turned into a barren wasteland less than a year after I finished it.

7. Even though I prefer people to like me I cannot make myself be nice to them. If I'm mean to you do not take it personally, it just means that you are a douchebag.

I would tag others, but I know that only two people read this blog and both have already been tagged.

COMING UP NEXT: Vegas Trip Report Part Deux, Origin of the "Mouth Hug", Perhaps even Origin of Teabagg'd

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Aces Up, Aces Down

Vegas Trip Report : Day One

Kuro and I finally get to check into Planet Hollywood after a grueling flight that connected through Phoenix and it is immediately time to get that gambling monkey off my back. Drop the bags in the room without checking out the "pool view" (seriously, we're on the fucking 24th floor, how the fuck am I supposed to stalk hotties from that far up? hell, you get a better view of the construction taking place across the street. maybe they should call it "dirt hole view" but that might attract the wrong element in Vegas, after all) and roll down to the poker room.

Well, the PH room is full so it is time to amble on. Stroll through Paris but there is only one table and it is full. Continue the circuit and find ourselves at Bally's. Oh, Bally's how I love you. Drunken donks love to call it home (including yours truly). The room is rocking with many tables going. No room at the 1/2 NL tables yet, but would I like to sit at a 3/6 table while I wait? Since I swore that I'm completely switching to NL I hesitate, but that gambling monkey needs to be fed. So, fuck yeah I'll take a swing at 3/6 (it is my favorite limit game, especially with a kill) while waiting for somebody to bust.

I sit down and peek at my first two cards. Two red Aces stare back up at me. I like this as a very first hand. I'm in MP in the 3s (the new Sham seat) and have one limper before me. I raise (duh!) and get a two callers behind and the limper to come along. Flop of JA7 rainbow and I almost crap myself. EP bets, I raise, called behind and he folds. Turn is a 4 for another bet/call and then river is a 9 for yet another bet/call. No respect for the new guy on his first hand. I table my set and rake the pot. The Asian fellow on my right has been hassling me the entire hand (I couldn't understand half of what he said) until he saw my holding. Three more hands and my name is called for the NL table. See ya, bitches!

I sit down and the guy on my right has just made a straight flush and they are bringing him $599 for the high hand. He is amazingly drunk gives everybody at the table $20, even me who was not at the table for the hand. Tips the dealer $80 and has trouble stacking his chips. He continues to have a horseshoe lodged up his ass as he rivers a couple other people. He is loud as hell and getting drunker. The waitron is bringing him double shots of Jager and is very attentive. Basically, dude is good for the table. He talks about the two chicks he has waiting in his room for him to have a menage a trois and how big of an idiot he is for not being there. I don't mind him staying as he really isn't good at keeping the chips he has. Kuro moves over to my left so he can have this guy on his right. I loosen up and take down a few pots and then next thing I know I've doubled my stack (though practically none of it was from drunky). I've had my share of Jager with Red Bull backers and then dude loses it. Kuro covers it pretty well here.

After the floor tries to quiet him down and he is ejected from the poker room the table is not so good. Drunky had turned his 1k into about 250 and was now trying to keep on rolling over at the blackjack tables behind the poker room. Kuro decides to call it a night (it is 0400) and I decide to play one more hand and roll with him. I look down to my last two cards of the evening and see two black Aces staring up at me. I make my standard raise and the BB calls. I fly over the flop and BB check/calls. I pot after the turn makes a 3 flush and BB folds. I table my rockets and depart to use part of my $261 profit towards toothpaste and a toothbrush.

It is tradition that I never bring a toothbrush to Vegas. I started it on my first trip and have never broken the streak. It has gotten to the point that I rarely bring a toothbrush if I am flying anywhere (the exception is overseas, where I bring all I need but booze). So, dental accessories in hand Kuro and I head back. He craves breakfast so we stop at the 24 hour cafe in Paris where I have 4 cups of excellent coffee while the cat destroys some eggs and hashbrowns. Problem is that I'm now too jazzed to go to bed. I need some alkie if I'm going to slip off into slumberland.

We head back to PH and this drunk dude trips over a curb and almost does a faceplant. I wish he had stayed upright so I could have pushed him into this other dude that was making out with a chick propped up on a fountain. Hilarity would have ensued as make out dude would not have known whether to pull girlie out of fountain or pound on drunk guy or on me. We get back to PH and it is time to blow the $20 surf gave me at the home game. Considering I had donked off at least that amount to him it seemed more than fair.

The game of choice was roulette and I drop the carefully folded Jackson (had to keep separate from the rest of my cash as it did not belong to me) on black. We waited for a player to return from the bathroom before the spin starts. I remark to Kuro that if it was my money I always bet on zero. Of course the spin ends up on that beautiful green zero and there goes surf's money. My need for alkie has not been sated so on to the video poker machines!

We walk around looking for a bank of machines near a waitron and I head toward the first tiny skirt I see. But under further inspection she is not in the uniform of the PH staff but rather in another short skirted uniform. Kuro and I veer off to the machines and I start playing nickel video poker after ordering a drink from a real waitron. As we big ball it up on the nickel machines the two, ummm......ladies start walking towards us. "How is it going?" the first soiled dove asks us. "Good, thank you" I reply. "You guys having fun?" the second comfort girl inquires. "Yes, thank you" I quickly reply making sure to not make eye contact. They wander on in search of guys who are actually interested in what they have to offer.

Shortly thereafter I make my quad 4s on the machine to get me back up over my initial $5 buy in and wait to get my drink to cash out. I had been down to my last credit but the luck brought to me by a brief visit by these ladies of the evening turned me back positive. The Guinness shirt performed well and earned a starter role for my next return to the bigs. The GT hat also performed most ably and makes a good bid to come off the bench. It is more of a utility player, but with me needing a haircut it was a good gametime decision.

Kuro builds his quarter video poker buy in back over even and it is time to call it a night at 0515. We get up to the room and have to pull the shades over the window as it is getting brighter by the minute and I want no impediment to sleep. My first session on this trip went well and I can drift off happy.

UP NEXT: Day 2 blunders, How to lose money the old fashioned way, and many more!

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Monday, May 07, 2007

Life may not be good, but it ain't so bad

As I write this I am reclining on a hammock on my parent's back porch. I'm overlooking the water and reflecting on how really fucking sweet this is. The temperature is perfect and the weather is cooperating. I don't know why my parents have a wireless network as my father spends most of his time sitting in front of his desktop, but I'm not going to complain.

I need to convince my mother to bring me a beer but that may be too much effort on my part. Of course, I don't really want a Budweiser and all that is in this house is three Buds. There might be a Miller Lite hanging out in the way back of the fridge as evidence of my Christmas visit, but I wouldn't bet on it. So I'll restrain myself for now and probably go out to the liquor store later to pick up some decent brew.

It has been a decent vacation to date. I've done absolutely nothing since I got down here except go on a boat ride, eat, and sleep. There was probably some elimination of waste products in the list but I left it out. Oh, and TV watching. And poker playing (more on that later). And loading a shitload of furniture in a trailer for my father to bring up to the ANTA so my sister can have a bedroom suite (she just moved back from Manhattan). Fuck, I'm forgetful. I've done more than I thought. Saw some old family friends I haven't seen in about 12 years. Cooked some ribs. Wow, I did more than I would in the same amount of time if I had been at home.

The only thing I haven't done is make it out to the casino. The reasons for this are twofold. First, the casino here really sucks. Two dollar betting limits? What the fuck? TWO FUCKING DOLLARS! Insane. It's not even really a casino, just bank after bank of slot machines and then the poker room with the above mentioned betting limit. I guess I could buy into one of their SNGs, but I'm playing SNGs from my parents house where I don't have to deal with cigarette smoke or obnoxious South Florida assholes. Secondly, I'm going to Vegas on Thursday. The casino here would just depress me and not get me psyched for Vegas, but rather bring me down.

So, if you haven't figured it out yet I have started playing that threat to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and good old fashioned family values that is the online poker. A very good player staked me the money and we have a contract for 100 SNGs. Hopefully he will get a return on his money. However, I think he did it because he thinks I don't have enough addictions (more on that later). Plus, it is always nice to have something else to chat about besides neither of us having a love life and current events in Southeast Asian politics.


Man, those palm trees look awesome blowing in the breeze coming off the ocean. The setting sun also makes a pretty good backdrop. Vacation is good for the soul. Damn, now I wish I hadn't sold my soul to that drifter. But hey, I couldn't have solved that crossword puzzle without that answer he helped me with.


When the issue of hairiness came up the other day it got me to thinking (the conversation was sparked over the topic of MD's hobbit feet, that we had bore witness to the previous week at kickball). I have a confession to make. I do not have back hair. I have a hair epaulets and back hair racing stripes. I do not have the traditional sweater/bear rug look that so many other hirsute men have, but rather have been cursed with a hair pattern. I should probably start shaving my shoulders as when I look into the mirror in the morning after ablutions I have hair epaulets staring back at me. They rise up at least two and a half inches. I feel kind of sorry for the small Asian women who do my haircuts because they get a glimpse into the abyss when they shave my neck back to the collar line. Then I remember that I pay 20 bucks for a goddamn haircut. Screw those bitches, I don't even get a happy ending.

I always wondered why people got their hair washed at the salon/barbershop/OTB parlor. Did they not possess shampoo? Did they just not shower that morning? Now I know. It is happy beginning (at least at the Asian place I go)! Their nimble fingers probe my occidental noggin and get me into the proper hair cutee mood. I'm putty after a good head massage/hair washing and would let them do just about anything to my hair after that. And fuck it, it is only like 2 bucks! Best cost to benefit in the fucking place. The shoulder massage after hair cut ain't bad either. They pull out that jackhammer with a pad on it and just let loose on your shoulders. Fucking nice. My last place used a straight razor on your neck, which was nice, but this fucking wins. Not to mention this place is right next to work and I can get shorn on my lunch break.


Time to scare you nice people. I'm going on a diet! Well, not really a diet. I'm just going to cut back on calories. How, you ask? No, I'm not giving up pork (perish the thought, you evil heathen scum!). I'm going to quit drinking......during the week (didn't want to give you a heart attack). Of course there are exceptions. Like if somebody wants to go out for a beer. Or it is poker night. Or it's a day that ends in day and I had a bad fucking day at work (leave me alone, Nazi! who the fuck do you think you are? the fucking fun police? no, i didn't think so. fuck off and die douche bag). Of course my dumb ass started that the week before vacation, so it had to be postponed after three days. Shut up. No, I don't want to hear it. I will be back on the diet come next week. Do you really not expect me to drink during the week in Las fucking Vegas? FYYFF.

Who knows, maybe I will try and get some exercise. Not much, but some. I just want to be able to fit back into my fat pants. I don't want to have to buy a new work wardrobe just because the sedentary lifestyle of the new job is making my ass spread. Well, my ass is the same size, but my gut and waist are expanding almost exponentially. You get the point. I just want to be where I was two years ago. Not noticeably fat. You could tell I was carrying a few extra pounds but if I dressed well and it was dark out and I stuck to the shadows you couldn't tell I was in danger of dying before I was 35 because of the gravy flowing through my veins.

Well, steaks are on the grill and I need to go man it if I don't want a piece of leather on my plate tonight. Mmmm.....steak twice a day is good.

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

I don't want the world, I just want your half

It finally happened to me. No, I didn't lose my virginity (fingers still crossed that it will happen one day fueled by a bizarre concoction of booze, illicitly obtained pharmaceuticals, and a complete dearth of standards), one of the stroller pushing bitches got out of my way. Well, technically she is a stroller pulling bitch as she is the one who pulls her stroller while sedately perambulating next to her fellow neoteric breeders.

In honor of this she shall henceforth be known as Backwards Betty. Of course circumstances were different this time. I approached BB & c from behind (after seeing her face I'm quite sure that is what got her in this situation to begin with, zing!) and was moving a little slower.

Wait a goddamned minute! BB was the bitch who wouldn't move last time! I will now redesignate her as Backwards Betty Bitch. FYYFFBBB! You only did the right thing this time because I was dangerously close to you and you heard me singing along to Back in Black! We'll see how you react next time. One day you might be able to drop one of those Bs but I'm not holding my breath.


God, this week needs to fucking end. My corporate travel people came through so I have my standby tickets to go see my parents this weekend. I plan to come back on Tuesday, have a day of rest, then roll back out to Vegas with Kuro. Not to mention this week has been fucking hellish. Monday was off the chain, the hook, the hook at the end of the chain, and (since I feel like inventing new slang) off the anchor. Granted, I did get to have the midday shift but it was the most fucked up Monday in about 5 months. Yesterday was fucked up because of my base state of short staffing and a goddamn internal audit. Today just sucked a little because I'm cresting the hump of this week and the end is in sight. It's a good thing I'm on vacation next week because I need a fucking vacation.

In other news it is time to head over to Limerick as it is Todd's 35th birthday and therefore Jaeger Bomb time.