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Thursday, September 29, 2005

Poker Championship

I have registered to play in the
Online Poker Blogger Championship!

This event is powered by PokerStars.

Registration code: 3366761


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Bash at the Boat 6 through the mouth of Otis 

"I've got a pain right here."
Otis - pointing to his abdomen early Sunday morning.
We were standing around the hotel parking lot way too early Sunday morning. I had to explain that the pain was his liver's way of yelling at him.

Otis and Steve were taking early morning flights out of Philly and they were both regretting the flight choice. Steve looked rough but probably more from the intermittent grunts, groans, and rutting noises coming from other bedroom.

Even though Bobby Bracelet was still there for another day, he was able to pull his leg out of the bear trap long enough to say his goodbye's and then immediately return to his lair.

~

"I'm going to get bachelor-party wasted!" - Otis
That was the good news part of the good news/bad news message from Otis. The bad news was that Mrs.Otis would not be joining us. Very bad news. We all idolize Mrs.Otis. The good news was that Otis was free from the marital restraints on getting completely retarded in public. Since it he was only here for just under 24 hours, this was going to get interesting.

Otis is one of the few "triple crown" threats of poker bloggers. First class writer on the verge of stardom. Top notch poker player who would probably be doing very well in the events he covers if only he was allowed to enter. And a Hall of Fame drinker. As for me? one out of three ain't so bad.

Saturday morning Eva made her second run to the airport to grab the G-Vegas crew, Otis and BadBlood while I finished preparation for the party (which should actually read, while I tried really hard to get over the massive hangover from Friday night). The plan was simple. Meet at the bar at 2pm, bloggers and their guests play poker while I work with the sound crew and bands to get everything setup properly. The upstairs bar opened at 4 giving everyone 2 hours of "drink free" poker and then 10 hours of booze-fueled silliness.

The poker games kicked off with only one hitch. I actually underestimated the number of people and we were running low on chips. 2 tables going and we could have started up a third if I had been properly prepared. One table playing $2/$4 H-O-R-S-E and one playing .50c/$1 No Limit Hold'em. Crazy blogger poker was seen all around. I'll leave it up to the players for the actual stories although I didn't witness Landow make Steve lay down KK on an Ace high flop. Landow showed 66.

While the poker games are going along, the bands and crew started showing up. I made sure everyone received the proper introduction and the biggest greeting was for the big guy himself, BigMike. A few bloggers had met Mike but most hadn't. They were about to get a lesson into how to loosen up a party.

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"There is a better than reasonable chance I'm going to fall in love with the lead singer of the band at some point this evening." - Otis
I had just introduced Andrea to the crew. Regular Boathouse bartender but today playing the part of the lead singer of Kiddie Pool. The above quote was from Otis as we were gathering our second or tenth round of shots from the upstairs bar. We were still an hour or so from opening the doors to the general public and the booze was already flowing freely. Pitchers of Bass, pints o' Guinness, Southern Comfort on the rocks and in shot form, empty bottles of Miller Lite were starting to pile up.

The bender was in full swing and the sun wasn't even down. BigMike pops the surprise on the bloggers. "Put this wristband on." was the order. Those with the wristbands had the run of the place. F-Train needs to drink his weight in Soco? Go for it. Does Steve want to set the land speed record for drinking Miller Lite bottles? Have at it big guy. You're not a blogger, you just came with one? Any friend of a blogger is a friend of ours. Go right ahead, stick your head under the tap. The only rule? Take care of the bartenders and the charity. Piece of cake.

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"Has anyone seen Otis?" - me
Probably the most often heard quote coming from me. The doors had opened at 6pm and I was pleasantly surprised that quite a few people showed up early. We generally don't get much of a rush until 10pm. I was running around like a maniac making sure things were going as planned. BigMike was stuck working the table selling raffle tickets because the family members he hooked up with free booze to run the table had taken advantage of the situation and were now blowing chunks behind the bar or dancing like a gypsy to the piped in XM station. Amateurs. Every where I looked, someone was shaking my hand then handing me a shot.

The bands all played well, hit their set times, and made sure everyone was entertained. We'll just go ahead and ignore the fact that one of the guitar players ended up passed out in his brand new Audi (without the keys, for those keeping track of my social responsibility), and chow all over the inside and outside. It was friggin' 9pm for christ sake. How the hell does that happen? Oh yeah, the bands had free reign at the bar also as long as they were relatively sober during their set, JDub the obvious exception to that rule. "If you're gonna play drunk, you've gotta practice drunk!" JDub

One of the highlights was the surprise appearance of ScubaSteve. Friend and DJ to the Stars. He finished up his gig from earlier in the night and played some proper ear-bleed music between sets. I didn't realize how much he was needed at the Bash until then.

I was starting to see a trend amongst the bloggers now. Either they were starting to wobble or I was starting to wobble. I quickly dismissed the possibility of an earthquake. Plus I wasn't feeling much of the booze effects yet. Must be them.

F-Train, god bless that kid. If we had been drinking together the entire time, I might be tempted to say he was holding his own, shot for shot with BigMike and myself. But he appeared to be quickly turning into a puddle.

Otis was my main worry though. Otis was drunk. Bachelor party wasted. Mission complete. But what if Otis falls?

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"mmmphg mmeeghphi eeiagheioa. HA HA HA" - Otis
The rough translation of my conversation with Otis. It's not that I was worried about Otis getting wasted. We've accomplished that before and he's a rock star drinker. My main concern was Lewey Hill. Earlier in the day Otis and I paid our homage to legend by standing atop his hill as I recalled the specifics the Running of Lewey. To quote Otis again, "When you wrote about the hill, I didn't realize the hill was like this! It's a cliff!"

Through out the drunken evening, I swear he kept looking over that way. Eva actually caught him once looking out of the gate. I think it was in the back of his mind to recreate last years event.

Problem solved. I just stuck a rotating crew of cute girls and drunken friends around him. Here's where G-Rob's judgment (ha, oxymoron alert) comes into play on whether Otis fell.

Otis and Eva are on the dance floor. Apparently the rest rooms were calling because he quickly turned around and made his move towards them. Several of us were between him and the hallway. There was a falling of Otis into me. Not a fall down. Had I not been there, Mr. Otis was going to meet Mr. Floor. No doubt. Then there was the "pinball Otis" dash up the hallway. That might also qualify. Once he was safely in, I made like the Secret Service, keeping everyone out of the bathroom until the prince of bloggers completed whatever business was so necessary. This is what you do for the pokerati. Protect them from the unwashed masses.

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"I won a trip to where?" - Otis
Otis drinks, Otis gets drunk, Otis holds a conversation.

How 'bout that string of events. Otis is talking and making sense. It's the end of the night. The bar is empty. And Otis just found out he won a weekend at the Borgata during his binge.

The night became a blur of MardiGras beads, breastessess, bands, booze, and beer. The friggin' fatass hippy challenged BadBlood to arm wrestle again. Moron. Raffles were raffled, drinks were drank, and smokes were smoked. The topping on the night was ACHE playing a 45 minutes set complete with War Pigs and Fade to Black. For a band with only two rehearsals under their belt, they did an amazing job.

The bloggers were sent back to the hotel in shuttles, their own cars, or cars belonging to locals. 3am found five of us sitting around the bar. Already the memories were tough to recall. Did you see that? What happened to....? Where the hell was I when that happened?

Eva, BigMike, Otis, BadBlood, and myself sitting at the bar talking to the bartenders and bouncers. They declared the night a success because they sold a ton o' booze and the bouncers didn't have to break a single skull. No drama.

A glimpse at the tab....

113 double Soco's
78 Miller Lite bottles
36 double Cap'n and Cokes

As we, the last of the Bash attendees, walked out of the bar it hit me. "Hey, I think I'm finally drunk!"

~

I want to take the time to thank all the bloggers who showed up, and more importantly, contributed to the foundation. Hopefully everyone had a good time and we were very happy to host.

And for those who couldn't make it......



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Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Adding Stephanie to the list of Bash writeups. Wanna get a close up look why F-Train was given the Lewey Award for Public Intoxication? Check out her writeup.

Stephanie
Pauly
Carter - with pics here
Helixx
Steve
BadBlood
F-Train with pics here.
Otis wobbles
Bobby "Thrice confirmed" Bracelet

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Insert Humorous Original Title Here 

No chance of real writing today. That's not possible.

Last night consisted of the final table for the 1st Boathouse Poker Challenge which I won (why do people get pissed off when they lose to drunks?), the regular Tuesday night freeroll which Lewey won (after being blinded off for an hour), sitting around the bar celebrating, drinking even more ridiculous amounts, telling Bash stories to Lewey, and somewhere in there seeing more nekkid breastessess (Otis' Boathouse Bash crush!). Hey, gotta support Breast Awareness Month.

Then I found myself waking up at 7am and writing that silly little post below. Drunks are such happy jolly folk.

In place of a real post, how 'bout a goofy ass story?

Flipper, Armed and Dangerous!

It may be the oddest tale to emerge from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Armed dolphins, trained by the US military to shoot terrorists and pinpoint spies underwater, may be missing in the Gulf of Mexico.

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A message from our sponsors 

The following message is for those boys from New York.

Pennsyl-tucky?

You NYC boys crack me up. Things freak you out as soon as you can't see the local vagrant on the corner who thinks he's Joey Lawrence on a crack binge, dropping a deuce every 5 steps saying "Whoa" the entire time. The only vegetation you ever see is grown under a "plant light" and the last time you saw a real tree was on your way back from visiting your dealer in the big joint.

Christ, this was only 20 minutes outside of the city. If you go another hour north you're liable to see the kid from Deliverance starving to death because the only thing he has to eat is the brain of Tony Danza and the soul of the last innocent person from NYC. Damn, they should take the self-appointed cultural capital of the world, give the final 12 law-abiding citizens an hour to leave town, then wall it up. You'd have to make like Kurt Russell to hit the next blogger event.

The preceding message was brought to you by the Ronco Sarcasm-atron. Please return to your previous bad beat story.

Thank you.

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Tuesday, September 27, 2005

The calm before the storm? 

Here's the deal. I'm finding it much more difficult to write up this weekend then other trips. Traveling abroad is much easier. This weekend I had home field advantage. Every thing that happened, occurred some place already described in previous posts. More and more people from outside my regular realm are beginning to see into my world. I'll leave it up to history and others to decide if my previous descriptions accurate.

Time to give it a shot. Off the top of my head....

~

Friday

This was going to be the easiest day. No major plans. No parties. Just a couple of early bloggers, booze, and see what happens.

The Princess took off to grab Steve and Bobby at the airport while I finished up preparations for Saturday. I was still sweating over band / sound guy details and could use this time to straighten everything out before letting loose. Once we got them settled into their suite, it was off to the bar. We were waiting on the infamous McGrupp's to make their grand entrance than after that....

Shots
Beers
Conversation
Rinse
Repeat

My first mission was to get Steve in front of the beer. The Boathouse has a huge selection of beers and I thought Steve, being the beer expert, might be impressed. I don't know if he was or wasn't, but by the end of the night, Dr. Pauly says he counted Steve drinking 17 different beers during the evening. Either he loved it, or couldn't find a beer he liked.

We eventually made our way down to the deck where I traditionally plant my fat ass while knocking back the booze. After a couple of introductions, I ordered our first round of shots from Bobby Boathouse (so named to reduce confusion for the weekend with Bobby "Grab my huge junk or die" Bracelet).

Shock and Awe.

For the first time since Pauly and BG last year, a blogger was able to experience what I drink on a regular basis. No girlie little shot glasses. Those are used strictly for CarBombs. No snifters or cute little glasses. A nice big rocks glass. And if you're gonna use a rocks glass, why waste the space? If the bartenders gives me a good pour, that makes life good for me and them.

Not that I'm being wordy at all, but that's a hundred or so words just to say that my standard shot is huge. Bobby Bracelet huge (or so I've heard. again.)

I have no delusions about how this night was going to go. I was on a mission to tie a big one on. Saturday I needed to be more in control because I was hosting. Tonight was it.

Here's where the hard part of the writing comes in. Does anyone care or want to read about any of this? For me, these are the times that make the blogger gatherings worth every penny. All of us just sitting around bullshitting. Pauly giving us tales from his latest travels to Amsterdam, Barcelona, and AC. Steve rating each beer and describing them to our savage ears. Walking the deck with Bob until we found a girl impressed with his poker ranking as of June 3rd. Eva and Bob running rough shod over the drunken amateur pool players. Giving a ton of grief to the incredibly lousy DJ's playing that night (again, for the record, it was not Scuba Steve DJ'ing. It was too young punks trying to impress their girlies with a string of horrible songs.) Landow showing up. Then leaving. Then showing up again seeming like only minutes later when in fact he had been gone for several hours.

Did anyone mention it was during this time when Bob went from twice confirmed, to thrice confirmed huge junk. Nothing like an impromptu lap dance and grind at the bar. Do I take care of my guys or what?

It all just started to run together. Add in the fact that we killed 3 bottles of Southern Comfort between the lot of us, and you'll get the idea what I'm talking about.

Somewhere in the middle of this, dial-a-shots began and ended with me finally getting in touch with "Gunz" Badblood. I'll use his words to describe how it went down:

Al didn't call for a dial-a-shot, he called to gamble. The negotiations began with Al claiming he had enough cash in front of him to fly the entire Blood clan to Philly. Not only could I not accept that offer due to the inordinate expense, but miniBlood was just getting over a stomach flu that made him stay home from school that day. Not a good combination, stomach flu and flying.

Al changed his tactics, obviously smarter than he looks. He asked to speak to Mrs_Blood and asked her if he paid for the flight, would I be able to come? I told Mrs_Blood that he probably wasn't bluffing, so if she said yes, be prepared for the inevitability of Al following through with his ludicrous offer. Mrs_Blood looked me straight in the eye and said yes.
How I managed to convince Mrs_Blood to let her husband fly on only a couple hours of notice, I'll never know. Shit, I barely even remember it.

Next thing you know, BigMike is running back to the hotel due to the flaky wifi access at the Boathouse (hey, who am I to complain, is your bar a wifi hotspot yet?) and he called back ten minutes later with BB's itinerary. When I made the call back to G-Vegas, his voice sounded doubtful. I had all the details and they matched up to what he found.

BadBlood was Philly bound.

....and everything fades.

Apparently somebody made the command decision that diner junk food was in order. There were a lot of wobbling people and what harm could it do. For some reason, Landow and I were lagging behind the others. Landow had the stereo set to 11 and we made our way down deer-splatter avenue.

As we pull into the diner's parking lot, all we see is BigMike leaning casually against the front of his car smoking a cigarette.

"Where the hell you guys been? I've called a million times." Landow checked his cell phone, 7 missed calls in the last 10 minutes. Damn.

"Well what the fuck are you doing out here." I asked right back.

BigMike just smiles and throws a thumb over his shoulder. I look around the back of the car and there he is. Our hero. Derek. Keeping up his perfect record of "puke and rally" comebacks at blogger parties.

Hey, you've gotta make room for all that cream chipped beef aka. shit on a shingle.

~

Next up, The Bash.....

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Monday, September 26, 2005

Bash by the numbers 

It's still way too soon to even think about a proper writeup of the weekend at this point. I woke up Sunday morning with my voice completely gone. It's recovered a bit this morning but not much.

Eva dropped the last of the uber bloggers off at the airport this morning and the area is breathing a sigh of relief. To be brief, blunt and crass, we fucked some shit up this weekend.

I'll link below everyone who was there so you can check out the writeups so far. I'm gonna start with Pauly. His is short and lacking in many details. I like that. I feel good about that. If Pauly was able to give a complete account of the weekend then I failed at my task and would be shamed. After the links, the Bash at the Boathouse by the numbers.

Pauly
Carter - with pics here
Helixx
Steve
BadBlood
F-Train with pics here.
Otis wobbles
Bobby "Thrice confirmed" Bracelet

Due to everything going on, I didn't take any pics. If anyone who was there would like to share, I created an upload area in my Image Gallery.

~

Here ya go, quick and painless starting with the big number....

111 - The number of shots on the bartab. That doesn't factor in the size of the shots, and those which never made it to the tab. Otis was telling me about a pain he was feeling Sunday morning before hitting the airport. I had to explain to him that his liver was revolting. "It stinks on ice. for bonus points.

0 - Poker hands played by yours truly. Not a single one.

0 - Number of times Otis technically fell. Still waiting on a G-Rob ruling.

4 - will probably be the number of a G-Rob ruling.

3 - Bobby Bracelet has "thrice confirmed" huge junk. Poor girl.

1 - The number of people who participated on both the Bash and Raz on the Braz at Scott's place. No kidding. Rex from Fort Worth, TX was in a tent for the Scott's party, and a puddle for mine. Small world.

28 - The number of hours spent at the Boathouse this weekend, broken down like....

8 - hours on Friday for the pre-Bash blogger gathering.

12 - hours spent on Saturday between pre-Bash poker and the Bash itself.

8 - hours on Sunday watching football.

0 - The number of cots they have set up for me at the bar. Dammit, it's about time that gets done!

8 - Bottles of soco consumed between Thursday and Friday before the Bash even started. This caused the GM to make an emergency liquor run before the party.

Finally....

300 - actually over that number, but that's the official head count for the Bash on Saturday. 250 at the door plus at least 50 people there un counted such as bloggers, band members, and their friends.

Thanks to everyone for coming. We raised a crapload of money for Cystic Fibrosis and I personally had a blast.

A better writeup to come.

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