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Friday, October 13, 2006

Stupid game Friday 

I threw the poor penguin 448. How about you?


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The Mook, The Recap plus a bonus pic 

My work project has been sucking a big hairy nut sack so the blog strike threat turned out to be very real. I had a great time playing the Mookie Wednesday night as we had quite a crowd standing around the bar watching the tourney. BigMike and I were on opposite ends of the bar and we had spectators. Landow was doing his drunken best to keep everyone apprised of our status in between his attempts to destroy ear drums with his karaoke signing.

During the tourney I had the honor of knocking out the Good Doctor and our gracious host while still maintaining my solid record of being caledl a retard every tourney.

Because then I laid a big stinking turd of a beat on poor poor fuel55. It folded to me in the SB and I tried to steal. Naturally he thinks I'm weak, but that's not surprising. According to his table chat, he thought everyone was weak except his bets. I was getting pulled away in different directions for shots and smokes and hit the call button (his all-in) instead of fold. No pair, no draw, just a silly little ace which was kind enough to hit the river.

Oh well. I turned 80% of my attention back to the drinks at hand and somehow missed being called a retard among other things. I was too busy laughing to notice. At least he took the bad beat like a pro.

So my apologies to Fuel55. I apologize for having a good time and not getting torn up over a tourney which costs less than the big shot of liquid gold that was sitting in front of me or first place money that wouldn't even cover my bar tab Wednesday night. Next week I'll try to concentrate more so that I may improve his enjoyment of the The Mookie Tournament experience. That's my biggest concern.

Maybe next week we can talk more players into showing up. As evident in these provided to me, I know that SirMrWhipple and Jordan were a little busy, but everyone else has no excuse. Please don't make me post another picture of German football fans.



German football chicks say "You will play in the next Mookie or else!"

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Wednesday, October 11, 2006

The Mookie 




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Bad day gone worse... 

3:30am comes awful early when you don't hit the bed until well after midnight. It tends to get depressing watching the sunrise from a conference room at work. The downside is ducking and weaving around the deer in the middle of the road but the upside is dozens and dozens of Dunkin Donuts for just a few people plus buckets of coffee. I'm sitting here at work waiting for everything to go apeshit while our west coast brethren are still hours away from last call at their local divebar. Color me jealous. I gave up a perfectly good drinking night for this shit? I hate when work gets in the way of a good time.

I'll be rolling out of here by the time the west coasters get into work when my current upload is done. Who wants to set the over/under on the amount of time to transfer 3GB of files across a shitty ass WAN connection between Seattle and Philly, assuming it doesn't break 80% of the way through. I'm probably not leaving here before happy hour.

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This crappy, bleary eyed post started around 4 o'clock this morning. Then IT Armageddon rained down all forms of fire and brimstone. The only thing that didn't happen was the old halon systems chocking us to death. Mag-effing-nificient. So much for getting my ass out of here. I've already put myself on the edge of unemployment by telling two rather large-ish (in managerial terms) fellow employees that they need to perform a little self-sodomy.

How does one become a professional drinker? We just may find out.

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So much for some stellar early morning posting for your reading pleasure. Today went from silly to unbearable in 60 seconds. I tried to calm myself by downloading some nice semi-clad women for you, instead I found an old song ScubaSteve used to sneak into the play list at the Boathouse. Either it's really amusing or my brain has completely mushed.

The Dan Band - Total Eclipse of the Heart

The rest of the morning has been spent completely ignoring people even if they were standing right next to my desk. I have my friends Anthrax, Slayer, Pantera, and the Children of Bodom to keep me occupied. I stare at the upload bar crawling way too slowly towards my goal which is me, my bed, and happy dreams of booze and boobs. One can only hope that I'll have a full load of both 12 hours from now.

The plan is to hit the bar by 4pm which will give me 6 solid of drinking before playing in....



I think instead of a bounty, I'm going to hold everyone hostage until we get 80 players. If we don't reach that magic number, I'm going on strike. I'll post nothing but pics of fat ugly men (not THIS fat hairy ugly man, mind you) and not a hottie to be found. So if you've become fond of seeing such wonderful (poker) things as this or this and don't want them replaced by pictures which defining the term "gunt", it's about time you sign up for Da Mook.

I'll be there drunk off my ass and maybe get someone a little dial-a-shot time with Kiki.

See you there!

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Monday, October 09, 2006

Bledsoe, Horses, and "Your wife his nice tits"... 


"Blitz if you want, but you're going to have to deal with some consequences if you do."
Drew Bledsoe on SportsCenter


Straight from the "Be Careful What You Ask For" Department. 7 sacks, 5 turnovers. Bring it on indeed.

How come I haven't received an email from Joaquin yet? I'm pretty sure I would have gotten one 5 minutes after the game if the Cowboy's had won. I did get my drunken pre-game, mid-game, and post-game call from StB. Crazy game and there isn't an Eagles fan in the world that didn't say a few F bombs in that last minute.

My one concern wasn't TO or the Cowboy's defense and definitely wasn't concerned about their O-line. I was praying to god that the few looney tune fans didn't start hurling 9 volt batteries and such. I was pleasantly surprised to see nothing major happen other than some good ol' fashioned ribbing at TO's expense. My friend who was at the game reported no "TO related" arrests and that the stadium was "loud as shit". Now maybe we can drop the crap about the fans before Tom Jackson rolls up into the fetal position with a whiny little pout.

Here's a question for you... should Bledsoe actually connect for a touchdown at the end, does Parcells go for 2 and the win or 1 to tie? The old credo was "go for the tie at home, go for the win on the road". Would he rather take his chances with one play from the 2 yard line and win it all or go with a coin flip where he might never get the ball back? Discuss.

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It was a great weekend with equal parts relaxation, booze, food, and entertainment.

Friday was nothing but lazy boy, crap food, and TV. Has anyone seen the new show Dexter on Showtime? What a great show. Fits well with my extremely warped sense of entertainment. Forensic scientist, serial killer, sociopath, all rolled into one character. If they threw in the occasional bare breasticles, I'd say wrap up the Emmy right now.

Saturday was planned to hang out with The Boy Genius for some Scorcese, food, and we even threw some horsey betting in the middle.

We hit up the movie theater first to catch The Departed. I'm a big fan of Scorcese flicks (as most are) and have been looking forward to seeing this since I first saw the trailers. I won't give much away and BG would be better to give a proper review ('cause he's better with dem there werds an' shit) but I thought it was fantastic. Humor in just the right places, plenty of violence but nothing way over the top, and a half dozen "no shit" moments at the end. Definitely recommended to everyone.

But you may want to leave your old grandma at home. I had an older lady sitting next to me in the theater. She seemed overly shocked when the first c-bomb got dropped. I was laughing at the line AND the shocked old lady.

Next up was the ever-convenient Philadelphia Park OTB across the street from theater, perfect place to waste some time waiting for the drive south for cajun/creole goodness. I'm hanging with a guy whose blogger description is "random thoughts and thoroughbred selections", where else would we go?

After only an hour we managed to lose every.single.bet we placed. I did manage to talk the cute-ish waitress into letting us sit at a table we weren't supposed to be sitting at and let me drink shots of Soco which were also verboten. She was well compensated in the end. "It's not tipping I believe in. It's overtipping." That was just the distraction though, the main event was yet to come.

I've known Donny, the owner of the High Street Cafe for many many years. Back then he was making bluesy hair metal after the genre was already dead. He socked away the money he made and opened a little restaurant in the middle of West Chester PA featuring Cajun/Creole cuisine. It opened with a bang (and me and Brad getting FIRED up) and it's still rolling. Impossible to get a table from Thursday through the weekend without a reservation well ahead of time. It really gets interesting when the boys from Ratt roll through town or Bam Margera decides to throw his birthday dinner.

But the star of the show is the food. Once again I will defer to the written words of BG to describe his meal. I mostly show my dining pleasure with a few muted grunts and growls when the plate is taken away. With all the choices, it was tough to narrow down our selections and ended up with 3 appetizers for the two of us. Blackened 'gator tail, blackened crap cake on a portebello mushroom (creole mustard makes this dish), and cajun popcorn. That would be fried crawfish tails.

Dinner was a tough decision since I found out they were out of ostrich and wild boar wasn't on the menu tonight. I loves me some wild boar almost as much as a fine buffalo ribeye. I settled on the filet stuff with fresh mozzarella and truffle pesto sauce. Huge, excellent, and I completely whiffed when I tried to finish it. I just couldn't stuff it all down. Our fault for ordering 3 appetizers. BG gnashed on some little ducky, but I'll let him handle that part.

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After all that you'd figure I head back to the lazy boy to sleep off the predictable food coma which was right around the corner. Of course not. I had The Super Boy Genius drop me off at the Boathouse where I could watch the Tigers put the dagger into the Yankees (Joaquin!) and the Michigan/Michigan State tilt. The bar was relatively empty and I was hanging with the girls of the bar....

...then it was 1am and I find myself in the back seat while Ryan the DrunkSaver carted myself and Bobby Boathouse home. What the @#$ happened?

I went from sitting at the bar alone to heading downstairs for a private party that featured different members of the bar's "family", free booze, and the occasional flash of mam flesh. Blair was calling for strip limbo dancing and I was buying rounds of shots for a bride and groom who brought their wedding party to Boat after their reception was done. I may or may not have told the groom that his wife had nice cans. If I had to lay a bet on it, I'd say that I most likely did that for real. I'd ask BoathouseBobby but he was Boathouse Bombed.

It was a completely unexpected walk into depravity after a fine afternoon of adult entertainment. Glad to see I'm slowing down after the Bash. I'm a fucknut.

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Forget all about that for a second. While I'm looking for a good bounty on myself, have you signed up for this weeks Mookie tournament yet? Chop chop, get on that now.

Cheers, heading off in search of bar poker and other such goodies in a few short hours.


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