Thursday, January 05, 2006

BigMike, Blogger Killer 

Wednesday definitely required a recharge of the batteries. After a night hanging with hometown and outta town bloggers, plus the regular Tuesday night poker free crew, my liver needed the rest. BTW, special thanks to whichever blogger in Vegas was kind enough to correct me on the placement of my liver within my cavernous body. Now I know where I'm talking about.

BoozeTuesday's generally have an 90/10 shot at being an over-the-top drunken mess but with DonkeyPuncher and Helixx rolling in, we were looking at the mortal nuts. Senor Puncher del Burro was even kind enough to present me with a bottle of his home brew Ale and I was smart enough to not bust into the bottle during the evening.

The poker tournament started off normally except for us moving the Table O' Death from the back corner to the center. Penn State was playing, you know. We couldn't miss the game and needed to be near the TV's although I was pretty sure I wasn't going to miss anything. The tourney started at 7 and the game came on at 8. Plenty of time for me to lemur my way out of the tournament.

It became obvious early on that BigMike was going to be the blogger killer. Like an idiot, I checked my set of Jacks on the flop and allowed him to catch a gutshot on the turn for free. Down I go and time to watch some football. Before I even had a chance to pile up more shots, BigMike took out Helixx when his flopped set of 3's held up. Who says live poker is rigged?

While Helixx and I grabbed another drink at the bar, Caucci knocked out the Puncher and that was it for the bloggers. But Al, you said BigMike was the blogger killer! That's right. By proxy. Because not long after Caucci punched out the DonkeyPuncher, BigMike took his revenge by crushing him and taking every blogger chip.

As punishment for his ruddish behavior towards our guests, BigMike was reassigned to the back corner of the bar when the tables were balanced. His table was nowhere near the TV's AND was a non-smoking table.

Now what are 3 bloggers to do when faced with an open night at the bar. How 'bout some drunken pool combined with dial-a-shots to whomever we happen to find on our cell phones? Many calls were made, few were answered. Iggy answered. F-Train returned the call. HumanHead picked up and we got to speak with the lovely Mrs. Head also. PokerProf left a voicemail somewhere along the time of my 4th level of passed out. Heather thinks we're idiots.

And DonkeyPuncher was rolling over the table. If you can't roll over the poker table, you might as well crush the pool table. That's the way he rolls.

Then more shots.

Then some more.

Somewhere near about the second quarter of the football game, someone comes up with the brilliant idea to run a single table tourney with those of us out of the main one. Excellent. I'm not playing well as it is, I've only gotten drunker since my knock out in the main tourney, and now it counts. I must state, for the record and those in charge who actually might give a flying rat's ass, that this was a 'practice' tournament. No money exchanged hands.


I once again proved myself to be profoundly retarded.

On the third hand, I was out. But at least I was the THIRD person out. That's right, 3 hands, 3 out. Truly a live version of a PartyPoker SnG.

Landow thought enough of his flush draw to call my idiotic all-in with a tiny pair AFTER I was the only one the entire night to straddle UTG.

It got down to Caucci (who had to be reminded about the tourney the next day), DonkeyPuncher (who has only managed to write a haiku about the night so far), and Landow (who found a way to win. Get everyone else drunk).

Then things got really fuzzy.

The PSU/FSU was getting down to crunch time, I managed to piss of Andrea when I was trying to piss off someone else, and somehow we found ourselves at the moment we drunks always dread.

Last Call.

We were shoved out into the cold cold night just at the critical juncture of the football game and forced to listen to it on the radio.

Penn State decided to win the damned game against Bobby "WideRight" Bowden and I got the final phone call of the night from MeanGene. PennState had won the game but we lost our MGM bet with PSU -8. Damned degenerate gamboolers can take the fun out of any game.

I once again had a blast with these guys. Both are always welcome back to the home bar.


Did you know BigMike has a blog? Check it out. Very touching.


Is there anyone out there willing to hire a slacker, moronic, half drunk/half hungover, jagoff? America's Wingman, bachelor party planner, someone to prop up the profits at your bar?




I have two links to leave you with.

The first is gonna kill you. I have the full version of that incredible new single by Mr. Britney Spears. This was NOT provided by ScubaSteve. Definitely not. Caution, it's worse than you imagined.

Skip Bayless, another resident douchebag at ESPN.com, wrote about how it would be impossible for Texas to beat USC in the title game.

Moron. I wrote him an email, you should also.



Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Sign of the Apocalypse Num. 745 

"...I heard your song and it was like one of the best songs in a long time, hope your album does well."

"Yo, that track has got some meat on it."

"heard the new track! sounds catchy...watch the beat and power start spinning that shit...u'll b as famous as ur grl...much luck & luv 2 both of y'all!"

"Wow. The five seconds you posted of your song is so dope. You are six steps above any other performer, Fedyboo."
The reviews are in! The insane "yo, I can't wait for your shit to drop" crowd is giving a big thumbs up to the new Kevin Federline single.

In times like these I tend to fall back on the links and mindless drivel. Times like these being the day after a blogger induced bender of epic porportions involving shots, poker, shots, pool, shots, and college football.

I had heard or read somewhere recently that Ms. Britney Spears went and got himself a myspace page and I avoided it like the plague. That was until the local morning show was having fun with it and playing his new single. And what a steeming pile of poo it is. But it's the comments on the page that make it worth the trip.

Popozao apparently being the new single which unfortunately gets loaded as soon as you hit the page. Luckily I was able to stop it before my head exploded.

"yr new single is da bomb cuz. really. da bomb.
Translation: Your new single is the bomb cousin. Really. The bomb.

Yeah, that doesn't really help either. Read carefully my friends. This is our future. These are the ones who will have to take care of us when we're old. Pray people, pray to whatever god you wish.

To sum it all up....

"Hey Kevin!!

Just stoppin' by to thank you *SO MUCH* for the add, and for sharing your time with all us fans, considering how busy you are with the new baby, the goddess herself, Britney (Im her .1 Fan!) and especially your new album!!

Damn your voice is just... SEX!!
Can't wait for the album!!
Keep doin' what youre doin' baby and give that baby a kiss for me! And tell Britney JULIE VITO from BUFFALO, NY is her biggest supporter, and she looks and sounds *AMAZING* reguardless of everything flase tabloids & media scandallists like to write about.

You 2 are so cute together!!!

Love you so much- so much talent! wow!
All my love,
Scandallists' beware!

I'm creating my own page so I can be his cuz. Visit it here if you have the guts. Don't say I didn't warn you properly.


And now for something completely different. You've seen the virtual bartender where you can give her orders....

Now try it with Stewie from Family Guy. May I suggest the eff bomb and "jerk off".



Word to you mother.

CantHang out!


Tuesday, January 03, 2006

You wanted crap, you got crap... 

Let's just jump right in shall we?

It was an interesting couple of weeks without putting everything down in writing. The thursday I wrote the "goodbye cruel world" post we went to the bar without the worries of getting up for work the next day. There was a pre-Christmas private party taking place downstairs at the boat until 7 which makes for a huge pain in the ass.

We timed everything perfectly and arrived as the downstairs opened to the general public. Not that I generally care whether it's open to the public or not. I try to keep up appearances that I'm a normal customer. The party-goers were in full force and they were driving ScubaSteve nutso in the DJ booth. That was the inspiration behind this post from Steve.

The company hiring out the bar was a local glass company. I'm not sure what they do with glass, but there was a remarkable number of men requesting old 90's house music (dum dum dum dum-da-da-dum) combined with frilly shirts. When the over-sized steroid monkey softball players came out of hibernation for the day, Landow and I were convinced something interesting was going to happen. Even ScubaSteve had an 'admirer'.

Turns out we were wrong. The sizzle boys fizzled and the men with the enlarged melon heads vanished quickly.

So we drank.

And played this game. I suggest this for every bar in America. It will sort out the men.


Christmas was spent with my parents. Nothing major, just relaxing. Large piles of french toast and waffles in the morning. Hanging with the neice and nephew to reinforce our opinions that we are not breeding stock.


This post is brought to on the new laptop provided by work. My old lazy crappy junk machine is toast.


I'd like to thank Motorola for providing me with a cell phone that was able to handle the MASSIVE amounts of dial-a-shots and text messages during the New Year's Eve weekend. It was crazy and great and boggled the brain.

It's almost like my cell phone is listed on some obscure spread sheet floating around the internut web thingy.

Some of the highlight calls were Otis (doing something around a fire ring that he "promised, I swear" to tell me about the next time we were sitting down having a drink), Daddy (leaving a voicemail that sounded an awful lot like this song), Shep and TeamScottSmith (drinking Brandy Alexanders or some such stuff), and StB (calling from a bar that was so loud that I only heard two words from him. Shit and Fuck!).

Poker was played, fires were stoked, drinks were spilled, and chairs were broken (but not over anyone's head).

The Eagles lost which is bad. The Cowboys aren't in the playoffs so that's goot.

Chelsea win. Again. Liverpool draw. Arsenal play ManUre today.

Tonight Penn State takes the belt to poor ol' Bobby and FSU.


Go wish The BoyGenius a speedy recovering. Get better quick my friend.


Tonight will be the regular Boathouse tourney with an added bonus. Poker with bloggers. The Puncher of Donkeys and Helixx will be making the trek to the outter reaches of the Philly area for some drunken stupid poker. If anyone is in the area, feel free to stop by. If not, make sure those cell phones are charged and ready.


For Jerry, since I've been lax in the hottie department, here's a blog which has a fine collection of flickr pics.