Friday, March 18, 2005

Alex's 5 Hump Camel Breakfast 

The first day of our alcoholic spring training officially kicked off last night. I'm generally opposed to camera's in bars, but I do this for you, my faithful reader. Someone must entertain the filthy degenerates.

Well.... Landow, BigMike, and myself came out swinging for the fences.

ScubaSteve started the night out right..... plenty of cowbell. Then we ended the night properly with some Anthrax. In between, it's a little blurry. I may have made too many dial-a-shot calls. I guess BadBlood will tell me later.

Who's Lucky? and who's 'Feeling' Lucky. Funny thing about the girl on the right. Just barely 21 and kept requesting metal produced before she was born.

My Ho drinking a Hoegaarden (and yes, I ran that by her before posting)

I hung out with a guy and his girlfriend for a bit. She looked alot like the early Anna Nicole Smith. Guess Girl era before she opened her mouth and became annoying. But this girl was better looking.

But about the same IQ.

Fade to blurry.

Once the bar closed, BigMike and I decided it was time for some good (word used VERY loosely) diner food.

We found an item on the menu screaming for BigMike to give it a go.

Alex's Five Hump Camel Breakfast. I have no idea where they got the name. Here's what it comes with....

5 eggs cooked anyway
corned beef hash
a tub of creamed chipped beef
5 pieces of toast.

Too much for me, perfect for BigMike. I just stuck with the 2 eggs, 2 pancakes, and my own tub o' shit on a shingle (with extra toast).

Poor Midge working the counter almost threw her back out delivering the order.

Day2 of spring training kicks off tonight.

Now I have to go back to my "office" for a "download".


Thursday, March 17, 2005

Happy St. Patrick's Day to all the Irish drunkards out there. If you're not Irish, I at least hope you're a proper drunk on this fine holiday.

I generally stay away from the "Amateur" drinking holidays. Too many college punks with beer muscles and shitty attitudes. Screws with the vibe. You can keep the drunk traditions of pre-Thanksgiving Day and New Year's Eve.

But I'll be damned if I let the kids take away my true drinking holiday.

The bar is overstocked with Guinness and Jameson. Fire Sale! Everything must go!

This is also the un-official start of the "Bring your camera to the bar" season. For those who weren't reading last summer, the pics tend to take over the blog at this time.

My liver has taken control over my body today. Any doubts or worries about doing permanent injury have been short circuited.

I imagine my liver is doing it's stretches now preparing for the battle. He'll be poking my heart with a stick screaming "Beat you bastard, it's no time to stop now!". My poor bladder will be berated, "Not again! You're the size of god damned walnut! Hold on!". Drill Sergeant Liver screaming at Private LungButter, "Is that fresh air Private Pyle! More nicotine!"

I forsee drunken dial-a-shots with Pauly, BG, BadBlood, and G-Rob. So prepare yourself. Either have a drink ready, or shut off the phone.


They've already started the parties in Philly. Appropriate since today is the city council vote to ban smoking in bars. God damned lung huggers.

At least the vote isn't assured. Rumor has it that they only have 8 of the 9 votes to pass the ordinance.

Top it off with NJ preparing to ban all smoking in the casino's (not just certain areas) and causing the industry to fire 5,000 employees on the spot.

All you granola munching, bark eating, lung hugger activists can shove it.


From the ScubaSteve research wing again.... Things to accomplish on St. Patricks' Day.

Some of my favorites.

Aggressively tongue kiss fat drunk girl in between bites of corned beef sandwich.

Instigate a donnybrook.

Wake up in puddle of puke (not your own) and realize its only 3:00pm. Leave Men's room and continue drinking.

To clear up yesterday's part about PayPal. I was able to withdraw my stolen moneyinvestments BEFORE PayPal clamped down on my account.

Again, thanks to everyone who 'invested'. It was a fine jab at Dutch the Tool Boyd.


In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I'll close with a repost of an oldie but goodie. The 5 Stages of Drinking. Cheers, drink well.

If you have no plans, go a bar, lift a Guinness or ten, meet some strangers, puke on a bar.


LEVEL 1: It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have work the next day and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends. Here at level one you think to yourself, "Oh come on, this is silly, why as long as I get seven hours of sleep (snap fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 2: It's midnight. You've had a few more beers. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing against artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you're thinking, "Hey! I'm out with my friends! What am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides, as long as I get five hours sleep (snaps fingers) I'm cool.".

LEVEL 3: One in the morning. You've abandoned beer for tequila. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you're thinking, "Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!" At level three, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his face. You get drinking fantasies. (like,"Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.") But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger....and he's buying. And you're thinking "Oh, come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours sleep...and a complete change of blood (snaps fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 4: Two in the morning. And the devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf! This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar. Just because you don't like his face! And now you're thinking, "Our busboy is the best looking man I've ever seen." You and your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an ...after hours bar. And here, at level four, you actually think to yourself, "Well....as long as I'm only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as well....STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!!! Yeah! That'd be good for me. I don't mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards. Yeah, I'll turn that around, make it work for me. And besides, as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow ...................cool.

LEVEL 5: Five in the morning. after unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor ("But I don't even know anybody named Ruby!!!"), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently as...that morning. It's the kind of place where even the devil is going, "Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell- at nine. I've got that brunch with Hitler, I can't miss that." At this point, you're all drinking some kind of thick blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl!!" One of your friends stands up and screams, "WE'RE DRIVIN' TO FLORIDA!!!!!"- and passes out. You crawl outside for air , and then you hit the worst part of level five- the sun. You weren't expecting that were you? You never do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see people on their way to work, or jogging. And they look at you-and they know. And they say..."Who's Ruby?"

Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's like a victory like you've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, "I swear, I will never do this again (how long?) as long as I live!" And some of us have that little addition, "and this time, I mean it!"


Wednesday, March 16, 2005

sleep deprivation
nounthe condition of being robbed of sleep, in real life or in experiment, as opposed to being unable to sleep

Some random blogger recently wrote that they don't want to read about why someone hasn't posted or excuses. Post or don't post.

Eat me.

Another blogger once wrote a couple of months ago saying who wants to read about someone who's always drunk and doing stupid things.

You also can eat me.

5 days ago I strapped on a nice little Motorola pager for work, and I haven't slept a solid night since. Capped off by this morning. BigMike and I had a un-scheduled, un-planned bender rolling along (I'll have to ask BigMike how that whole viodin / soco cocktail went).

It was a quick one. We were done, through the Corky's / Wendy's drive thru, and back at my place just in time for the start of House.

normal normal normal

Then Captain Skytel and His Magic Tones started playing.

Nex thing I know, it's 3am and I'm saying "goodnight" to a broke-even Pauly. Finally off to bed. Of course I couldn't fall right to sleep, that's what I wanted. That's what my body wanted. My mind, on the other, was racing away. Finally I felt myself nodding off when....

beep beep beep.

4:15am. Lovely. And my drunk fat-ass has been awake ever since.

The mind starts getting a little loopy. I could actually feel myself pass from drunk, to hungover, to fine. All without the benifits of actually being asleep/passed out. I also find that my internal censor has pretty much shut down.

Where I would normally be somewhat political and sensitive when telling someone their work is complete shit, today I have no problem telling people what complete fook-ups they are.

So I would expect to get promoted or fired by the end of the day. Oh wait, but they can't. I still have the pager for two more nights. With the last night being St. Patrick's Day.

Good effing luck getting a functional oncall tomorrow night, numbnuts.

So while I'm not offering up excuses, I am apoligizing for the crap I'm unloading on a poor defenseless bloggerdom.

Shit, I haven't even played one hand of poker since Sunday night.

My Sister's Diary

Somebody was a tad upset with their sister. Classic.


Sliding smoothly from one eBay action to my past eBay auction.

Apparently my little eBay poker at Dutch Boyd has not gone un-noticed. I thought everything was done until I get this email from PayPal. Seems I've been found out.

Dear AlCantHang,

We appreciate the fact that you chose PayPal to send and receive payments for your transactions.

However, after a recent review of your account, it has been determined that you are currently in violation of PayPal's Acceptable Use Policy. The Policy prohibits the use of PayPal to send or receive payments for any form of gambling activities, including but not limited to payment for wagers, gambling debts or gambling winnings, whether conducted online, in person or through any other means of communication. This includes all casino games, sports books and sports betting, horse and greyhound racing, person-to-person betting, and certain games of skill.


God damned Otis. That's all I have to say about that.


CMT. Dukes of Hazzard. Catherine Bach.

MeanGene wrote something earlier, but I think most people have forgotten how completely smokin' Catherine Bach was at the top of her game.

Good God Ya'll.


Brain = mush.



Tuesday, March 15, 2005

I wish I could say I was happy finishing 47th out of 93. I was a marked improvement from my last WPBT event where I dropped on the first hand. And I didn't finish last.

I finished 151 and Mourn finished 152. And we were both seated together last night. Perfect. At least we know one of us would make it past the first hand.

The tournament structure was setup to be such a crapshoot, that all it took was one minor mistake to get you shortstacked and in trouble. I went from being in the top 10 to being out of the contest in no time flat. I was knocked out in Stud when my AAQ two suited ran into 555.

At least I should move up a little in the WPBT standings. Maybe a spot or two.


Have you ever been forced into a class for your job that has absolutely nothing to do with your job? That's where I'll be.

Someone sitting in a office with nothing to do comes up with a brilliant idea. Let's take our people away from their jobs and waste their entire day. Brilliant.

Nothing spectacular this morning.

Go read something much better.