Friday, September 10, 2004
"I love you like a fat kid love cake"
Fun Bobby is back. I couldn't take it. Too many hours in a bar made the wagon unrealistic. And with hours and hours of football on Sunday at the bar, I gladly hopped off the wagon running and life is good. or at least it's better.
Not that I'm going back to the bender. I'll still be taking it easy trying to lower my alcohol tolerance to normal Irish drunk level. But the booze is back.
Apparently fate was trying to drive me to the bar last night. First we get the notice that there's a teeny little sinkhole between work and home. 4 lanes wide. But the road to the Boathouse is wide open.
Then we hear of the police shooting a robbery suspect in the middle of a 100 acre field on the alternative route home from work.
Off to the bar we went.
Another picture from Maho Beach in St. Maarten. Complete crazines. Could anything like this ever happen in the states? Seems a little sketchy to me.
More fun with Omaha8 when I got home from the bar last night. Way up, then down some, and eventually way back up. Holding AAT2 double suited, flopped TT2 for the boat and locked it down with another Ten on the turn. I avoided fancy play syndrome and had 4 (that number again is 4) people calling my raises the entire time. UTG was betting into me.
While I was searching around for a friend who was playing in the $50 SnG's, I came across the Grubster himself and watched him take down two different SnG's. Looked like his September of SnG's is starting off well.
No word from Felicia on her Stud tourney last night. Checking the results this morning I didn't see her on the final table. Hopefully we'll get another good story shortly.
I have it on great authority that the blogfather has successfully made his way back home alive and well. No get with the stories.
Bands, bands, and more bands. They are starting to come out of the woodwork trying to get a spot at the September 25th party. I'm not used to this. Usually I have to go hunting them down. The last band I have to keep a secret until it's finalized but here's a hint. They had a video on Headbanger's Ball Top 10 back in the good ol' days called the late 80's
Any other band in the Philly area looking to play a charity gig in front of 400 people for free beer, give me a yell.
Got a lovely email the other day. A blast from the near past. Melissa from 'YSP. Go check out her site. Maybe I can talk her into showing up on the 25th.
Poor BG, I haven't heard from the love of his life though.
Speaking of the BoyGenius, I can't wait until he gets back from his weekend bachelor party for his brother. Tales of hard liquor, penicillin shots, loose women, and general debauchery.
Amsterdam Story Part 2:
Caucci, BigMike, and myself were strolling around Amsterdam on a lovely August evening. Our bellies were full of beers and we were waiting for the damned spacecake bonbons to kick in. Eventually during our stroll, the clouds opened up for the daily soaking and cleansing of the alleyways. While Tony ran back to the hotel, Mike and I continued our investigation of this great city.
After walking many miles through redlight tinted alleys, you tend to dismiss when someone looks an odd color. That's how I missed that BigMike was about to become a 300+ pound avalanche into the street (or worse, into the canal).
He was leaning up against a wall, head back, eyes glazed over. Apparently the spacecakes had kicked in. If he hit the ground, there was no way I was getting him up. I moved him along quickly and we ourselves near the daily drinking hole.
Across the alley was a bar which was always crowded with rowdies and hooligans but this night was relatively empty. Being tired of the other crappy bar, I directed Mike into what would become known to us as "Bob's Bar".
I easily found seats near the door and quickly recognized that we had stumbled into a rugby bar in the middle of the redlight district. The bartender, with a very heavy Scottish accent, took our orders and only slightly paused when I asked for my Southern Comfort neat. Mike barely touched his Strongbow as he blankly stared at an Amsterdam brochure someone had snookered us into buying. Over and over he kept saying, "I can't stop reading this one line. Help".
After an hour of English rowdiness, the bar quickly emptied and Caucci finally met back up with us. We started an interesting conversation with the bartender. Bob. Manager of this fine establisment and also the local 7-a-side Rugby team, R.F.C Corso Marauders. It also turned out that Bob was a bit of celebrity with the local citizens.
When I asked how long he had been away from his home in Scotland, I got the full story. Bob spent his entire life in Amsterdam except for 4 years when he played rugby in Scotland. Hence, his mastery of English with Scottish accent. All the english came to his bar because they thought he was Scottish and making a great living amongst the "filthy Dutch". (Don't yell at me. Their words, not mine). But all the local citizens knew his history and thought it was brilliant that he was getting one over on the english.
While we all had a good laugh at his story, bottles and shot glasses began appearing on the bar in rapid succession. Eventually Mike righted his ship and joined the world of the living. To this day, I could never tell you how long we were there, or how many shots were knocked back.
I remember standing up from the bar after hours of hard drinking and falling on a (luckily empty) table. We called it a night and left the bar.
At this point, something was mentioned about needing to see behind one of the redlight tinted doors. "Last night in Amsterdam", was the cry.
That poor dog had no idea what was about to happen.
Side note. 9 months later we took another trip to Amsterdam. When we walked into Bob's Bar, he immediately remembered our names and my drink order. He asked me if I went through with the wedding and I pointed to the wife sitting in the corner surrounded by the hooligans. He just shook his head and said, "Me and the wife live behind the bar and she won't even come in here. You must have found a keeper."
From BigMike's update in London/Greece this week:
We made it here alive, but it was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. I don't know how the hell I survived london?! In one night I blew a month of grocery money in a club! I love that city. I met a girl, I call her Cigarette Whore. She was fun. Another time... We saw "We Will Rock You" (Hissing and boos!) and we saw "Jerry Springer the Opera" (Enthusiastic cheers!). I spent Sunday in the British Museum, almost two hours studying the Elgin Marbles that the British , ahem, borrowed from Greece in the 1800's. I saw some really great Alexander the Great exhibit and found out the brits are giving him a stamp! The movie comes out in November. So we flew over night to Athens and had a Key West type, aborted once, quick climb, thrown all over the plane landing. Then our limo driver was late. As we are driving to the port of Pireaus he tells us that the weather was bad the day before and no ferries went but today we will be fine. We get there at 0500 and SURPRISE all the boats are cancelled due to high winds. Much too dangerous to go on to Mykonos. So we bought plane tickets and flew in, because flying is much safer in dangerous winds, right? Thank god I have no children! Anyway, we made it alive. The hotel is quaint and rustic (Red Roof Inn is a Palace by comparison) but this is Europe and Greece and you must expect these things. My back has been out for the last 36 hours, I have a nasty blister on my foot and my legs are killing me. I LOVE travelling. There is nothing I would rather do. I wish I had more money.
P.S. Thought I lost my wallet in London, raced back to hotel (wallet was there), raced back out to the club, could not get a cab or train back to the hotel at 0430, got in a "gypsy cab", thought he was going to mug me, ended up haggling the fair down, he tried to take more, I offered him the choice of the fare we agreed on or a much shorter pain filled life span. He took the money. That was the same night as the cigarette whore, the stripping bartender, the cider, the steam bath club (not literally), and Jerry Springer. I wish the REAL world would stop hassling me! I guess I will come back...
Everyone have a good weekend.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
I played my first Omaha Hi/Lo ring game. It was great in all of it's Party Poker squishiness. I practiced good patience (because I'm just really starting to learn the game), solid betting, and easily made money when I hit my hands. The number of players cold calling any number of raises all the way to the river was absolutely ridiculous. I don't where I read it first (Felicia or Pauly) but I started with quality hands and made sure all 4 cards were working for me.
Piece of cake.
And it feels good to be expanding my skills to other games. Next up, Stud 8 so I can take on the mighty Felicia :)
For those who don't know, I'm heading off to St. Martin in November. I was searching around for details and came a description of one of the beaches.
Maho Beach Maho is a small beach, but its location is what attracts all of its visitors. Just of the touchdown point at Juliana Airport, this beach is the closest one could ever get to a 747 landing or take off! Bring your camera!Now that sounds pretty weird. Then I found a website with a picture from the beach. How's this for up close and personal with a 747?
The 'no shit' headline of the day. From China.
Jakarta bomb blast shows terrorism is still a danger
Good luck to our friends in Florida. Again.
Hunker down and keep low.
From the news reports, it sounds like Ivan skirted around Aruba and the blogfather.
Funniest post from yesterday. Pauly listed his top 10 ex-girlies. Go check it out.
I'd get shot if I ever named names. However, I decided to rank the Top 10 in my~
short life and it was one fun list to make out. The top six were easy, it was
the last four spaces that were tough. All the candidiates were well qualified,
but I stand by my choices. I won't be giving real names, instead they women will
be ranked as colors. Before I began I randomly drew crayons out of a hat. Each
woman was given a different Crayola color. Only I know the color key!! I'll let
you guess who's who. And here you go...
Because I just don't get enough of these emails:
My name is Billy Evans, and I'm a nine-year-old boy. My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She is crying. The reason she is so sad is because I'm so sick. I was born without a body. It doesn't hurt, except when I try to breathe.
The doctors gave me an artificial body. It is a burlap bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do on account of us having no money or insurance. I would like to have a body transplant, but we need more money. Mommy doesn't work because she said nobody hires crying people.
I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and she hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though she's allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and chafes her real bad. I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this email to everyone you know. Forward it to people you don't know, too.
Dr. Johansen said that for every person you forward this email to, Bill Gates will team up with AOL and send a nickel to NASA. With that funding, NASA will collect prayers from school children all over America and have the astronauts take them up into space so that the angels can hear them better.
Then they will come back to earth and go to the Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and send all the money to the doctors. The doctors could help me get better then.
Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Right now I can only be third base.
Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can take more prayers to the angels and my dream will be closer to coming true. Please help me. Momm! y is so sad, and I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn 10.
If you don't forward this email, that's okay. Mommy says you're a mean and heartless bastard who doesn't care about a poor little boy with only a head. She says that if you don't stew in the raw pit of your own guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a long slow horrible death and then burn forever in hell. What kind of cruel person are you that you can't take five freakin' minutes to forward this to all your friends so that they can feel guilt and shame about ignoring a poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy?
Please help me. I try to be happy, but it's hard. I wish I had a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty that wouldn't chew on me and try to bury its turds in the leaves of my burlap body. I wish that very much.
Thank You, Billy "Smiley" Evans
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
August 5th, my Poker Dream Team post:
Felicia is my Stud specialist (how that doesn't come out sounding dirty, I don't know). With a well-rounded team, I can feel my investment growing already.
Congrats to Felicia for starting off her September of Stud on a good note. She finished third in the Four Queens 7 card Stud 8-or-better tourney. Click here for the Pokerpages writeup, or better yet, check out Felicia's site for a better writeup.
So far my picks are panning out well. Felicia with her finish, Iggy won the Monty Memorial, and Pauly came oh so close to winning a seat in the World Speed Poker Championship in lovely, scenic Estonia.
Not much going on in the world of Fun Bobby. Finished up my last fantasy football draft last night and I'm ready for the season to begin.
Sunday afternoon / evening sitting at the bar (which has the DirecTV package) watching every game with huge plates of wings. Add weekly Madden tournaments on the big screens before the games and I'm in heaven.
Anyone in area needing a place to watch some football, come on out.
I'm having that recurring dream again. Sitting in the 4seat, looking down the table, then pushing in a big stack of chips. No idea what happens. Over and over.
I was going to comment on the actions of Mattias Anderson during last night's WSoP episode. But Paul Phillips beat me to it.
Mattias Anderson. Hate hate hate hate hate. Being 24 is no excuse for being THAT stupid. There is a limit to the "age exemption" on lameness and he's way past it.Everyone who wanted to kick that little fooker square in the junk, raise your hand.
By the way, if you're not playing on Party poker during and after the WSoP broadcast, you're LOSING MONEY. Everyone thinks they're a pro and the play is attrocious. Let me put it to you in real terms, I make money during this time. Can't imagine what a real player could do.
$260million down the drain.
DUGWAY PROVING GROUND, Utah - The Genesis space capsule, which promised scientists potential clues to the origin of the solar system, crashed to Earth on Wednesday after its parachute failed to deploy.
They were going to grab this capsule with a helicopter because it was too fragile to land even with a parachute. What happened to it when it slammed into the early without the parachute ever opening?
Screw you Blogger.com for eating my brilliant post and making me post the crap.
Fun Bobby signing off. Have a good day.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
If I could make through the weekend without my booze and too many Fun Bobby jokes, I could probably quit forever. ech, the horror.
Friday brought a great afternoon for sitting on the deck enjoying the beverage of your choice. Best weather in awhile. Nothing but water for me.
Saturday. All day at FatAssBob's with hillbilly fun, poker, and two half-gallon bottles of Soco. Again, nothing but water for me. (It's been awhile since I posted another cutie. Here's Christa with the potato gun.)
Sunday, started tailgating for the Phillies game at 10am. H2O.
Saturday at Bob's ended up in a 10 handed NLHE game in which I played 3 (three) total hands. Bob's neighbor showed up to play and I gave up my seat. In those three hands I realized two thing about this game. I was going to go crazy and go broke. So I got out.
Lewey didn't get out. He went crazy and he went broke.
People were calling raises with literally any two cards. If the flop came out rags, you just knew someone paired two of the crappy cards. Being completly sober, I had no patient for the game and quickly got up. Choosing instead to spend the rest of the night as the beer bitch. Dammit.
I made some decent money playing 25NL this weekend including taking advantage of a player I noticed was 4-tabling the 25NL tables. He was to my left. I pulled up the other three tables he was on. If I noticed him involved in a one or two big hands on the other tables, I would catch him not paying complete attention and drug some nice pots.
Warning: I'm about to make a poker strategy comment. Take it with a grain of salt.
One thing I noticed during my play this weekend. When I wanted someone to lay down a hand or keep them from drawing out on me, I stopped making pot size raises and began making half pot raises. I got a lot less crappy suckouts and a lot more laydowns.
My previous pot sized raises where made in an attempt to screw up their pot odds for drawing hands but they usually ended up calling. Leading to the eventual gut punch suckout.
My mistake was thinking that the fishies at 25NL know or give a rat's ass about pot odds or implied odds. When I put a pot sized raise out there, I felt like they were looking at the size of the pot (how much they could add to there stack if they hit the miracle), not the size of the call they needed to make. Bad plays making for horrible suckouts that always seem to outnumber the wins. Even though that's not the case.
This weekend I adjusted my strategy on these tables. I started raising half the pot when I wanted someone to drop and, to my wonder, it began working. Even though the pot odds where better (but still not right) to call, they were laying down because they were looking at the amount they could win and not the amount they had to call.
I'm sure I'm just continuing my string of bad plays and odd analysis, but I did finish up 10x my buy-in for the weekend.
Not much time for writing this weekend, last night, or this morning. Nice short crappy post. My last FFL draft is tonight and I need to concentrate.
I matched the BoyGenius pick for pick with the ponies this weekend. 5 out of 6. I will continue my efforts to match his excellence by picking by jockey names this weekend coming up.
I finished third in Pauly's College Pick'em game. I wonder if Pauly (10 points behind the eventual winner) knows the idea is to pick the winners?
After 4 days of being off, click on the links to the right, everyone has very solid posts up by now.