<$BlogRSDURL$>

Friday, May 13, 2005

Email post continued.. 

Updated at 11:30am

But before that, a screenshot from the wifey playing Full Tilt last night. Imagine one player flopping a straight flush. Imagine another player on a nut flush draw. Then watch the wifey hit her one outter for the higher straight flush.

Idiot slowplaying his straight flush.

Here ya go, starting with my last one and BG's response....

~

Great question, oh Lord of the OC.

And also an easy one. Something I've pondered in the past.

While it might be kinda cool to have a film crew follow us around and catch those pivotal moments that few people hear about and even fewer believe when they do hear them, how many people really believed it when the story was told about traveling down the strip at 9am with my head hanging out the window of a 20 person stretch Excursion throwing the goat ( \m/ ) at the crypt keeper and his wife in the taxi next to us then getting out of the limo at Sam's Town signing autographs for the kids waiting beside the building who thought I was some sorta rock star? A film crew could have properly documented that but does that make it lose some of the mystique?

My choice is simple.

I almost paid for Pauly's trip to KeyWest just so he could document it for me.

I want my Vegas story told by Pauly in novel form. Me, Pauly, and the rest of the crew tearing up and spitting out the great city of Las Vegas. We make it our own until she screams for us to leave her alone.

I want the stories to be so over the top and out of control that the novel is not only published right away, but there is a bidding war between several publishing houses. The novel goes on to gather popular and critical acclaim and goes down in history as the last great american novel.

Then Hollywood calls up and pays a record amount for the film rights. Pauly insists on Chris directing the project on the condition that he is baked and drunk during the entire process so he can "feel" where we were coming from and going to. Chris signs on Wil to play me. He has to put on an extra 150 pounds and wear that crazy hair from the CSI episode. Wil immediately quits the project when the producers 'accidentally' hire William Fucking Shatner to play the BoyGenius (and I can see that fit).

Shatner quits when he finds out the project isn't an informercial. The movie is a smash. Wil earns an Oscar and instant street cred by flipping off 'the man'. Pauly becomes an instant cult celeb and has a torrid affair with Katie Holmes AND Paris Hilton.

And I just sit back in my studio-provided lazy-boy sipping my soco and watching it all go by.

I'll turn to the wifey and say, "Man, that was a fun trip to Vegas. Too bad they don't know the best parts...."

But hey, that's just what I think off the top of my head in my stream of conscience kinda way.

How about you? How does your story get told.

-------------------

Oil Can Stain,

The details of my life are quite inconsequential...

But you know damn well I only ask you a question I want to answer myself, right? I mean, what good is this bullshit peanut philosophy if I can't muse wistfully on my own dumbery?

Whatever that's supposed to mean.

While the following phrases would absolutely be ones I'd love to one day utter:
"Michael, I think we need Scarlett to show a little... no, a lot more side boob in this scene. Oh, and make sure she grabs a handful of his ass after the hero blows up the tanker truck with the shoulder-mounted missle."

"Britney, Jessica, or Christina? Well, if your readers need to know, it's Mariah. Come to daddy babygirl."

"That was taken completely out of context! I have no problem with Puerto Ricans!"

"I'm sorry, I can kiss your what? Deirdre, can you read the last three statements back to me please?"

"Him? That's my motherfucking minstrel."
I can't see any of these choices alone being the way I'd want to be immortalized. It's actually a two-step process.

First, I put Pauly on Prozac for six months while moving him to Des Moines. If he's going to write my soft lighting/vaseline lens biography, I have to suck the New Yawk right out of him. While he's in Pleasantville, learning what a 9PM bedtime feels like, I'm slowly making the rounds with everyone I used to know, paying them off handsomely to tell only my version of the story.

The story? Big penis, saved a bunch of nuns once, I don't know. So long as everyone's got it straight, I can tell them whatever the hell I want.

Oh, by the way, it's not "penis" in my story. It's "manhood." I'm skewing to a different demo here.

Anyway, Pauly writes what turns out to be a best seller for the Bridges of Madison County crowd. I mean, I like 19 year old ass too (not that I've known 19 year old ass since I was 22), but I know a couple of 19 year olds and that act gets real old real quick. Instead? I get booked on Oprah and start promoting the book to the 28-45 year old housewife demo. They swoon, I charm, and since I saved a bunch of nuns once it's okay with Jesus and the Pope that they fellate me regularly.

Then, inevitably, they want to make the book into a movie. But in a surprising move I eschew big screen riches to let the Lifetime Network make the movie. Two reasons. First, the demographic fits and the 28-45 year old housewives get all BG all the time, and second, I've always wanted to pork Gail O'Grady. Since he seems like a nice guy, I'll let Wil put on 35 pounds, shave his head, and handle Gail in front of the camera, and I'll make her yelp like a mountain goat in my trailer.

Eventually, they just hand the keys to the Lifetime Network over to me, and I continue to convert the self-deprecating tales of woe I've spun for almost three years now into various vignettes. In between blow jobs at least.

Chicks dig a self-deprecating guy.

OK, back at you - Go read today's post at my site about "secret shame." I spilled. You can give all of us one back dammit.

~

Tall, pale, and tidy....

First I have to address Jason's comment about not knowing the lovely Nikki Cox. The star of Unhappily Ever After and Las Vegas?

WHAT THE !#$%

'nuff said.

My secret shame? My first one is easy. I have a very unhealthy love of all things Hair Metal. Don't get me wrong, I prefer the crunchy stuff for my regular listening pleasure. Anthrax, SOD, Suicidal Tendencies, Slayer, Pantera, etc. I will even admit to liking the King of All Sellouts, Metallica, in their early days (both middle fingers raised in a salute to Lars). But, man, sometimes I just need some good crap hair band rock. Poison, Dokken, Motley Crue, Kix, etc. Everything short of Firehouse and the band that set the bar on the low end of hair bands.... Trixter.

A perfect example, during the MANY times Landow has given me a ride home from the Boathouse, he has provided somewhere in the neighbor of 2000+ trashing, 80's, hair band for the ride home. Is there better drunken music? At least for me, that answer is a resounding NO!

\m/

My other secret shame will come as a surprise since this blog OCCASIONALLY pretends to be a poker blog.

ah.....

I hate talking about poker hands.

gasp

Talking about specific poker hands drives me up a wall. Unless we're talking theory and how the hand should have gone, I don't care how it ended. You sucked out. They sucked out. Over thousands of hands, talking about invidual ones makes me grind my teeth. By the time you say, "and then they raised me after the flop, then on the turn......" I'm already thinking how to cut my heart out and find the nearest bottle of soco.

That's not to say I don't like talking about poker. I love it. You want to sit around and discuss the proper way to play low suited connectors in a mutli-way un-raised pot? Bingo, you have my attention. Landow once sat there while I argued with another drunk (besides me) about the proper way to play Big Slick for hours. I'll talk theory all night long. Just don't start the conversation with, "oh, wait until you hear about the suckout last night". Click.

On a different subject.... here's my favorite comment on your post about your secret shame..... from Glyphic

Those condiments are like a double shame. Not only can you not throw them out, but you eat at some really crappy places for a food snob.
Defintely hit the nail on the head with that one.

Here's my question back to you and my answers below. The field for the WPBT Aladdin tourney is going to be huge (big props to CJ). Handicap some of the players and who you think has the best chance and some of the underdogs. And while you're at, don't use the part of your brain that you use for picking horses. That part is damaged.

My top 5. I picked them off the top of my head without looking over the players list. I would have put Iggy on the list but I'm not entirely sure he's going to make the 10am tourney and if he does, he'll probably be in the same condition we were in December. crocked. Just like a good drunk/poker player should be.

5. JoeSpeaker - The relative unknown coming in but he's been on an amazing roll.
4. HDub - You can never count out Hank in these things. Not sure how much he's been playing lately....
3. Scott - Coming off his showing in the last sat, I think he's going to roll right through the field.
2. Otis - By far the best tournament player in the field, in my honest opinion.
1. Felicia - How can you not pick the WPBT Classic champ, plus the added karma factor.

The first one out? Me. With Bill knocked me out in retribution for me knocking him out in the last one.

Tag, you're it.

|

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Another email post 

Refresh - Last updated at 16:45 Eastern

OK ladies and gentleman. It's been a rough day and I'm waaay behind. Finishing up details for Vegas and a poker tournament I'm throwing this weekend.

I intentionally didn't blog about it because I was trying to keep it small and out of the public eye. Now I'm going to open it up to anyone in the Philly area.

$50 buyin, 50 players, no juice. Player friendly structure. Saturday noon.

I have a few spots left so shoot me an email if you're interested. You'll get to play with a world famous blogger and Hank's world famous friend Bourbon who has had the priviledge of enjoying an all night boozefest with the blogfather.

~

During the day, the BoyGenius and I started discussing the upcoming Vegas trip. That, of course, means another episode of the AlCantHang / BG email posts. Starting today and all day tomorrow.

When we do these things, it's usually because I've run out of material or I'm hungover. For the record, I haven't run out of material.

Starting with BG....

~

Al, My Brother From Another Mother:

Bold move for you to take over hosting duties for the WPBT Tournament After-Party. I can just see you cruising the room with some blonde (some blonde indeed my good man) on your arm, wearing a smoking jacket and tossing out a hearty guffaw and a slap to the back of whoever's story on which you happened to stumble at that moment. "Delightful! Remind me to tell you the one about the time the fellows at the Yacht Club pulled the most wicked of pranks! You really are a cad there Old Bean!"

To quote Andre 3000, "It's a beautiful thing... to let the liquor tell it."

In actuality, the thing I think most people get wrong about you is that you aren't the "lampshade on the head" party boy type at all. I caught something you said either in chat last night, or in someone's comment somewhere, which basically read, "I bet after just a little bit it ends up being just (the four of us) around a table drinking anyway."

I think you're right.

Even at your Bash At The Boathouse last September, a party where you knew at least 75% of the attending personally, you weren't necessarily on "host detail" the whole time.

Still, god help us all if you play the role of accommodating host and actually get off the maple syrup liquor you're used to and into that crazy La Raza tonic. I saw the aftermath and morning after a hell of a bender in the Bahamas, and I know this Vegas trip is going to kick the ever living shit out of the Bahamas, especially since this time the drinks will be free.

OK, we've done this email gambit before, so the formula for my emails doth go: breezy introductory paragraphs/questions for you/my own answers to such.

And I think I'm done with "breezy" at this point. Let's talk about some of these "newer" bloggers making the trip.

Now, by "newer," there's no slight or insinuation that a newer blogger has or doesn't have a place inside some sort of mythical poker blogger "inner circle" or some such shit. The only reason there exists anything that can maybe be identified as an "inner circle" is because some of us SUCKED IT UP AND CAME TO VEGAS IN DECEMBER FOR THE FIRST TRIP DAMMIT, and it's not like you couldn't have come too. We just know Maudie a bit better than we do either of the Aprils right now.

Right-o? Right-o.

Did you know there are a minimum of fifteen bloggers I've never heard of playing in our Vegas event? Wow. I have a lot of respect for bloggers willing to put themselves out there, who at least try to be creative and engaging on a reasonably regular basis. I mean, I know I should be reading more, but I just am so freaking lazy...

Anyway, just speaking about what I know about some of these bloggers, here are some assumptions on what you're likely to see from them in Vegas - if you feel I'm wrong on any of these, feel free to write up your own list (cough cough), or correct mine:

Most Likely To Still Be In The Nine Seat Twenty Two Hours Later - I think our good friend Chris (Geek) strikes me as this type. He's got the youth, he's got the all-night Mountain Dew pedigree, he's got the game to clean up at those low buy-in NL tables, and his girlfriend Kori will look for solace in my arms after giving him the Friday afternoon ultimatum, "You'll have choose Chris... It's either me or Boba Fett."

Most Likely To Be In Bed By Nine PM - Sorry Joanne, but even a chick who I am absolutely confident can put it away cannot keep up with Al. I know you'll try, and you'll end up like so many of the women who have tried before - naked and handcuffed to my shower rod.

Wait, did I just say that out loud?

Most Likely To See The Grand Canyon - When you book your wife as your traveling companion to Vegas there Head, you should know damn well you're either going to be seeing the Hoover Dam on Friday with G- and Mrs. Rob, or holding shopping bags while your wife claps with giddy glee when AnimatronicZeus makes a proclimation welcoming you to your personal hell at the entrance to the Forum Shops. Good luck with that, maybe we'll get to see you when we go to Vegas in December.

April I'm Probably Going To Like Better Than The Other - This one.

Most Pale Minnesotan - Give me Professional Poker Player Chris Halverson over Drizz in a walk. Although I think seeing me in shorts will make you blink away the glare from my near-albino complexion.

Guy I'm Going To Enjoy Winning Pots From - This one is too easy. Late last year at the "blogger table" on Party Poker, Scott and I had about a one or two session stretch where I just killed him. Of course, as I'm raking and stacking his chips, I'll be sure to remind him what a liberal pansy-ass hippie I really am, and so long as we keep feeding him Shiners, I think we might have some fireworks.

Most Likely To Be Nothing Like What I Imagined - Call this the Grubby Memorial Trophy. I had Grubs pegged completely wrong in about every way possible. My guess for guy I'm going to have wrong this time? Nerd. The Nerd/Degenerate/Venetian has a real name that would almost fit better on a superstar in the English Premier League, but there's also a part of me that thinks he might be a nattily attired black guy. I have no idea what to expect from The Nerd, so I'm definitely interested to meet the guy.

Anything you'd like to add or change there Aloysius?

--BG

~

Good Lord Big G, no fucking around right off the bat.

It's true that I'm not a "lamp shade on the head" type of drinker. You saw the damage that was done at the Mandalay Sportsbook last December. It wasn't a boisterous party, but that didn't stop us from having nearly a dozen bloggers blitzed off their gourd from drinking while we were chilling out and losing money on football games. I'm more likely to be the guy sitting at the bar making small talk as I become close personal friends with the bartender. That's how it works.

Now about your list.....

First, I think you're misjudging Joanne. I'd put her at the top of the list for Most likely to drink BG under the table. No offense. While I was drinking the deck in Key West, she was keeping up with me. Who do I fear will be Most Likely To Be In Bed By Nine PM... I think we're going to accidentally hurt Gracie's liver the first day. I hope not.... But she did have a weeklong hangover.

Most Pale Minnesotan.... hehe, I'm just going to excuse myself from this one since I've met them both AND Chad. By the way, your pasty ass wins this one hands down.

Guy I'm Going To Enjoy Winning Pots From - same thing as December. A soco-drinking, fake-gumbo-eating, Otis at an O8 table. My only chance to take money off the master.

Most Likely To Be Nothing Like What I Imagined - Maudie. Even though we've met already. With all the crap going on the last couple of days, I see Maudie in the gym right now. She's going to show up in BadBlood's sleeveless Hammer t-shirt with brand new gunz ablazing ready to kick anyone's ass who looks at her sideways.

Here's a couple of mine for you....

Most likely to be found passed out in my bathtub - Aside from the obvious choice (hand up), I'm going to have to go with Iggy. I've already offered up the comfort of our tub if the need arises. As long as the tub isn't already full of passed out strippers from an all night poker/booze/"Pauly" bender found while cruising the clubs with Grubby.

Most likely to be the next honorary member of ACHE - Easy one. StB. The only blogger out there who talks as much booze as I do. This whole poker thing is just an excuse to drink for free at the tables away from the -ev games such as blackjack.

Most likely to be screaming "press it kenNETH!" with me, you, and Bob at the craps table. - I think Chad is going to be double-fisting the soco and whiskey, leaning against the rail, yelling right along with us.

How'd I do?

~

Dearest Allen of Malvernia,

You're doing just fine. Maybe someday you too can parlay your embarrassing past and thorough knowledge of the vapid vortex that is pop culture into a readership that numbers into the dozens on any given day. Just like me.

Sigh...

We do get a new "The O.C." tonight you know.

Actually, my 19 year-old cousin is coming over tonight, having just moved into my mom's condo for the summer to be a beer cart girl at the local golf course. She's coming over because about 1% of her misses her cousin and 99% of her couldn't figure out where to find "One Tree Hill" on the local WB affiliate's lineup this week. I have Tivo, now I have an hour of my evening blown to shit watching some crappy teen soap opera - until, of course, 8PM hits and I get to watch "The O.C."

By the way guys, my cousin looks like Summer from that show. Ask Doc.

Good idea, by the way, on the email gambit today, as I can't talk about my cousin on my blog anymore. She gets all uncomfortable. Really though, what could happen by telling hundreds of lonely poker playing dudes in their mid 20s and early 30s behind a keyboard that I have a hot cousin?

Don't answer that.

Oh, and on the topic of Joanne? If there are 100 bloggers coming to Vegas, there are at least 99 who can "drink me under the table." You've seen me in action. I am soft like a doughboy in that regard. Now, I bet if you were to put that same 100 bloggers in a Sizzler on All-You-Can-Eat Steak Night, I'd be somewhere in the top five in the end. Far more Kobayashi than Bukowski indeed. But you missed the tailing off of (one of) our favorite Canuck(s) late into that dial-a-shot. She went from lucid to incomprehensible in about eleven minutes flat. Hey, more power to you my good woman for taking a stab well into the diamonds of your deck, but it's not going to happen for you. Put down the fifth and let Big Daddy Al belly up to the bar.

Speaking of Vegas, the number for today is TWENTY ONE. Apropos, eh? Now, let's say you're going to hire a someone to chronicle your experiences in Sin City in a little less than a month (goddamn breath of fresh air saying that out loud - let me try that again - "Sin City in a little less than a month." - aahhhhhh...). Which of the following proposals do you select:

The Documentary Film Crew With An Agenda - Think Michael Moore, but know that whatever they manage to capture on tape may or may not be manipulated through their bias to tell the story they want to tell.

Bruckheimer/Bay - Wouldn't your story be soooo much better on the big screen with Nic Cage as Al Can't Hang, a bomb plot, and Hoover Dam going kablooie?

The Princess Di Biographer - At least if there's bias, let them shine it up all nice and pretty before it goes into print.

The Studs Terkel Approach - It's not your experience he's after, it's the story he can tell using interviews from the shared experience of everyone in your wake.

Tiger Beat Magazine - A five page spread, 20% ads, 70% pictures, 10% fluff about what boy band you like best and what you look for in a prom date.

Beowulf Can't Hang - That's right, how about an epic poem so dense it takes a team of grad students to yank it apart?

The Minstrel In The Gallery - An effette dude, some pantaloons, a peacock feather, and a lute tell you the story in near-real-time of your check-raise on the river straight in the immediate afterglow of raking the pot.

Court Reporter - Actual verbatim transcripts. You can play with them later.

Screw the purity of the moment. Tell me really how you want your Vegas story told.

Later,

BG

~

Great question, oh Lord of the OC.

And also an easy one. Something I've pondered in the past.

While it might be kinda cool to have a film crew follow us around and catch those pivotal moments that few people hear about and even fewer believe when they do hear them, how many people really believed it when the story was told about traveling down the strip at 9am with my head hanging out the window of a 20 person stretch Excursion throwing the goat ( \m/ ) at the crypt keeper and his wife in the taxi next to us then getting out of the limo at Sam's Town signing autographs for the kids waiting beside the building who thought I was some sorta rock star? A film crew could have properly documented that but does that make it lose some of the mystique?

My choice is simple.

I almost paid for Pauly's trip to KeyWest just so he could document it for me.

I want my Vegas story told by Pauly in novel form. Me, Pauly, and the rest of the crew tearing up and spitting out the great city of Las Vegas. We make it our own until she screams for us to leave her alone.

I want the stories to be so over the top and out of control that the novel is not only published right away, but there is a bidding war between several publishing houses. The novel goes on to gather popular and critical acclaim and goes down in history as the last great american novel.

Then Hollywood calls up and pays a record amount for the film rights. Pauly insists on Chris directing the project on the condition that he is baked and drunk during the entire process so he can "feel" where we were coming from and going to. Chris signs on Wil to play me. He has to put on an extra 150 pounds and wear that crazy hair from the CSI episode. Wil immediately quits the project when the producers 'accidentally' hire William Fucking Shatner to play the BoyGenius (and I can see that fit).

Shatner quits when he finds out the project isn't an informercial. The movie is a smash. Wil earns an Oscar and instant street cred by flipping off 'the man'. Pauly becomes an instant cult celeb and has a torrid affair with Katie Holmes AND Paris Hilton.

And I just sit back in my studio-provided lazy-boy sipping my soco and watching it all go by.

I'll turn to the wifey and say, "Man, that was a fun trip to Vegas. Too bad they don't know the best parts...."

But hey, that's just what I think off the top of my head in my stream of conscience kinda way.

How about you? How does your story get told.

|

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

More random junk 

Make one little smartass comment (I was happy to see some people got the bubble gum reference) and I wake up this morning to hundreds of comment spams. They were blasted through many of my old posts so it didn't really bother the recent posts.

Pricks.

Just a couple of things before I continue with the Key West stories.

First, a big Fat happy birthday to Scott. Keep stretching that liver big guy, just a couple of weeks til Vegas.

Scott also has the most complete writeup and knock down of the arguments put forth by the worms stealing content. Check it out.

~

I expanded my log count at statcounter.com so I can get a better feel how people are getting here and where they are coming from. I found that there are a lot of sites out there linking to mine that are really good and I should link back. That's my next project.

Let's start with pimping a new guy. (b)log of Poker. Great stuff over there.

For shits and giggles, here's my top 10 referrers.

1. Guinness and Poker
2. Up for Poker
3. Google search on Linday Lohan pics. I knew that was going to haunt me.
4. Tao of Poker
5. BadBlood
6. DoubleAs
7. BuffaloHold'em
8. iwon search for Lindsay Lohan pics. d'oh. Perverts
9. BoyGenius
10. Poker Chronicles

I'm going to go through my entire log and update my blogroll with sites I'm missing. By the way, number 11 was an altavista search for Ms. Lohan. oy.

~

So Jay Lovinger want someone to back him in the WSoP Main Event. 10 grand to an admitted chucklehead who has shown himself to not really be that good of a player. hhhmmm

I think I'll pass.

I can think of several other players who would deserve the money more AND would be a better investment.

Maybe Jay should join the WSoP Satellite tonight....

Are you signed up?

~

CJ announced it on the WPBT website....

I will be throwing a post-tournament party on June 4th after we crown the WPBT Aladdin Champion. It was quite a chore. There were very few places willing to take on a 100 poker players and sposes/companions/friends on a Saturday evening without making me sign over my unborn children.

LaSalsa Cantina in the Aladdin was ready to host it but found out how many people were going to be there and balked. They handed me over to another location walking distance from the Aladdin and we were in business.

And they really have over 40 different varieties of tequila. Now I'm not a tequila person, but the missus can knock 'em back like a world's champ. As witnessed at 6am at the Excal in December. She knocked the shots back and made Otis run for his room.

I'll have more specific details as the day gets closer. But the party is on.

|

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Otis' c0ck is THIS big.... 

I swear to christ. That's what he said. Go read it for yourself.

Women beware in Vegas!

Now Otis has put the squash on any further talk about this souless, post-stealing, mouth-breathing, festering axe wound. And I really wasn't going to say a whole lot. My retarded blathering is not exactly going to have people jumping in to steal my content. There are others out there that can deal with it properly. And even if they took it down right now, another would pop up in it's place two months down the road. So I don't have anything to say about that.

Then Maudie finds herself with a coward anonymous commentor blazing away at her. Maudie took the high road and has moved on. She also removed info from her post which is public knowledge and can easily be obtained by typing in their domain name here. I have an inherent reaction to immediately come to the defense of anyone I consider part of my crew being threatened. Maudie made that dangerous ride to Sam's Town in the Excursion so she's definitely an honorary member. But she's moved on and doesn't need my protection. So I don't have anything to say about that.

Then..... this same chump (whose name server is located in Raleigh, NC, works for IBM, and the site admin now has a copy), left a comment on Felicia's blog.

"You should die from this cancer. The odds are against you. You're self righteous forcing your views on others..."
See, now that does it.

You can steal my content. Enjoy, get rich. You can even send your vague harrassing anonymous comments. A coward but a harmless coward.

But what you cannot do is tell someone I consider a friend that she "should die". As much as I would like to ignore it, I just can't.

I apologize to my regular reader(s).

For Mr. Anonymous, I have one challenge. You have the balls to say this stuff but not attribute it to yourself. Leave a comment with your email address and we can discuss your insane point of view. Or better yet, on the morning of June 4th, I'll be sitting in the Aladdin poker room or bar. Come find me and repeat your words. I'll be the guy running out of bubble gum.

~

OK, see what's the idiots have done to me?

Now Jerry's going to leave a comment telling me relax and get back with the funny. I wasted a day being pissed off and never got around to Day 5 The Drinking of the Deck.

Anyway.... I'll be back tomorrow, writing about the useless world of drinking and some poker. 52 shots in a 16 hour period, locking BigMike out of the condo, and conference call dial-a-shots.

Thank you for putting up with my rant. We will return to your previously scheduled booze post.

Also, for those heading to Vegas in June, standby for an update from CJ.

Tequila para todos mis amigos.

|

Monday, May 09, 2005

more..... 

My apologies for the lack of posts on Friday. Da Man was keeping me down. Then to top it all off, I finished up my Key West reports this weekend, saved as Drafts, then they promptly went walk about. So today I'll do my best to finish up.

From home, no less.

This weekend, I also received a dial-a-shot call from none other than Pauly, Iggy, Daddy, and Jeff from the Kentucky side of the river playing some drunken poker. I got the head's up on some of the stories but you'll have to wait for those guys to write 'em up. They're classics.

Let's answer StB's question first. "Why was everyone looking at me funny on Monday morning".

Well, in the G-Rob style of full disclosure, I will give it up. After only eating 2 slices of pizza in 24 hours while consuming mass quantities of alcohol.....

Apparently there was video evidence of a fat hairy hippy blowing chunks over the rail from 4 stories up. I believe this evidence has been destroyed but I do not have confirmation. There you have it. Occasionally these things will happen. At least I didn't puke on a homeless guy.....

So where did I leave off....

We'd just pulled into the dock at the A&B Marina with the flags flying high, a small schoolie for dinner, and a deep desire to celebrate the day.

We called Lewey as soon as we got off the boat. BigMike and Lewey mentioned that they planned to spend the entire afternoon get shnoocker at Irish Kevin's while we were wasting our time on the high seas.

BigMike was unreachable and Lewey was barely audible. At least we knew where they were. We made the command decision to hold off on the steak and mahi mahi until the next day. We needed to get to the bar.

As soon as I see BigMike at the bar, I know we're in for a good one. He's 4 hours into a fine bender. The sun is up, the guy on stage is hilarious, and Lewey's bartab is the length of my arm. BigMike is very close to double digit carbombs. I see double and triple southerns as well as Jager-bombs, redbull and vodka, and (warf) a pina colada.

After throwing down some more Angelina's pizza (see, I CAN learn) I dove right in with him. Here's an Irish Kevin double shot. Good stuff.

Turns out we were in for a special treat. Irish Kevin himself was performing that night. We were told that's a very rare occasion. He owns the bar and plays whenever the hell he wants.

Irish Kevin takes the stage with a dozen pints of Guinness on a bar stool with a bottle of Irish whiskey and tequila on another. There is a "shot clock" on the wall for chugging times. Anyone who can chug a Guinness in under 5 seconds gets a shirt. Several tried. For the record, the top time was 1.16 seconds. egads.

Kevin also plays along with the crowd and picked up on our crew from Philly. He calls me up stage for a rousing version of "Signs". You get it.... "The sign says no long haired freaking people..." Funny, I've NEVER heard that before. After the song, he grabs a pint of Guinness and offers me a shirt if I just finish it. No time limit. Must have thought I was some long haired wimp. To make it a little more interesting, he topped the Guinness off by filling the glass with some irish whiskey. pfft.

I finished that puppy off well faster than the required 5 seconds and got a "holy shit" from Irish Kevin. No offense to my beer swelling friends, but good lord, that shit goes down like water. Not a bad way to start my night.

Then he called BigMike up to the stage. Maybe the height of the stage was playing tricks on his eyes and didn't realize his size. Mike got up on stage, Kevin turned and looked at him. "Bah, good lord! Save the Guinness", Kevin said, "Here's your shirt."

FatAssBob the Bachelor was next up on stage. Since the party was in his honor, Kevin added not only a healthy shot of whiskey to his Guinness but also a ridiculous amount of tequila. I can't imagine what that tasted like but Bob knocked it back in true crew fashion. Of course, he left that bar not soon after that so take it for what it's worth....

Near 10:30 and the end of the Kevin's set, he gets BigMike back on stage, resets the clock, and tells him to go for it.

Best time of the day when the big guy hits 3.8 seconds on the shot clock. No one else was even close.

We made it through his entire set and were having a blast when BigMike made the 'stand'. Not many people have seen this phenomenon. He was into his 8th hour of the binge and he was about to break the seal. Apparently he has the bladder the actual size of a pygmy.

When you've been drinking for 8 straight hours hardcore, and this was only the second time he made the move off the bar stool, it takes a little to get your "bar" legs under you. Watching him stand is like looking at the side of a mountain just waiting for an avalanche. But it never happens. Ever.

BigMike isn't just a member of the ACH crew. He's the heart and soul. When my liver grows up, it wants to be just like Mike.

Then it happened, my evil twin, my alter-ego, the future Al showed up in the bar. He freaked out Irish Kevin from stage. BigMike was blasted and didn't know what was going on. He had to hand a shot to each of us to see who was the real ACH.



It's not a great pic, but if you'll just look at the guy between us and the camera.

BigMike kept asking me if Evil Al had given me any news from the future. He did tell me to bet on some 50-1 underdog in the Kentucky Derby but I knew he was full of shit......

|