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Friday, February 08, 2008

Damn the flu, go to the bar 



Just wondering where all the yapping from the bloggers out there who were so confident in their Patriots. Two solid months of table chat about "GO PATRIOTS!" and weekly posts about the next opponent to get Crushered. Now, not even a peep. Wawfully quiet out there Pat's fans.

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I missed my own damned tournament last night even though I remember to register. I wish I could offer up a noble excuse like I was battling the world against evil or that I was stuck in bed penning my last will and testament. Much less glamorous than that. I was sitting at the pub, playing a little shuffleboard, throwing back a few drinks and hanging out with the guys. There was a Lewey siting. As the clock rolled along it never occurred to fire up the laptop for some Stud on Stud action.

I completely forgot about it until I stumbled through the door at 12:30 this AM. Not sure why it was at that moment I remembered but it was too late by then. Lesson learned. Drinking and having a great time is -EV to your bankroll when you are brilliant enough to pre-register for an event. Did no one think to ring up my cell phone to remind me?

Sure sign the I am truly standing at death's threshold. Sitting at my desk with the iPod on shuffle. I willing hit the advance button when Indians by Anthrax popped up yet didn't move a muscle when it was replace by Trixter. Pray for me BadBlood. For the record, I blame Landow for these 'mystery' songs that keep popping up on my iPod. Yesterday I got stuck with Fly High Michele and some Nelson song. Damn you Landow and your song masking skills!

There are plenty of opportunities for you to get your blogger tournament fix this weekend. Starting with Kat's Therapy $1 shit-house-rat crazy rebuy tourament. Tomorrow is Saturdays with Pauly and Sunday is the Brit Bloggament.

Did I mention that I got a big shipment yesterday with a bunch of swag from Full Tilt Poker? It came by UPS but not by THIS UPS delivery type person. Courtesy Shumpy.




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Thursday, February 07, 2008

February Truckin' 

Pauly has February's Truckin' up nice and early this month. Another good edition with an entry from the 9 year old mini-Waffles. Once again proving that talent is not hereditary. Miles ahead of the old man.

Cheers, enjoy.



Truckin' - February 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 2

1. Benson and Hedges by Paul McGuire
I looked at her arms and wrists. She didn't appear to be a cutter, but she listened to a lot of angry indie chick rock and idolized Ani DiFranco. Her sullenness always bothered me. I wanted to try to talk to her, but it was not easy. She used to sit in her room and drink alone... More

2. Declaration of Independence and Love by Betty Underground
It felt like I had stopped breathing for minutes as he brushed his lips across mine, without touching them. Dusting them like feathers. My head grew light as he teased me. I was frozen. Suffocated by desire... More

3. The Big Empty by Johnny Hughes
Ever time I see Dowd, he gets shorter. Used to be taller than me. They say he puts a drop of honey on everything he eats, and he gets Chinese herbs from a chiropractor... More

4. Squirrel Hunting with Pudddin' Tooth by Clay Champlin
I was merely a hunter trying to kill him before he made it home. Without a word I pointed at the little grey dot bounding across the forest floor. Puddin' Tooth sprung to his feet, and we were off tracking the beast... More

5. Dragon Slayers and the Angry Villagers by Mini Waffles
J and A heard about a war and it was about the angry villagers and the Charlyaters but the angry villagers had to fight to keep their lands. Then they signed up... More

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The ever amazing Waffles strikes again 

Most people know I get great pleasure in ragging on Waffles. He's my favorite troll-doll, passout-on-one-beer, lemur-like weak-ass ranter. It's all in good fun but this time it's deadly serious. Tuesday night found Waffles with a healthy chipstack when CK made a prop bet (please god let her have been really drunk). If Waffles managed to win the tournament he would get to see the hottie Asian Jew in all her nekkid spendor. I don't care what the other side of the bet was for, this situation was all about Waffles fulfilling his desperate case of yellow fever.

Long story short, he made his way through the players and got head's up with ANIguy, a regular on the Riverchasers live bar tour. Live free tour. He was sitting there with a 6 to 1 chip lead (120k to 20k) in a Stud split game where even a 12 year old Hoy-beating button masher would be able to finish it up. That's not even considering the fringe benefits that were on the line. Waffles walked into the head's up battle like the Patriots in the Super Bowl.

Of course we all know how that ended up. Waffles pulled the ultimate choke job again. How can he lose with that huge chip lead and the promise of CK's goodies on the line? We know you have no skills but have you no pride?

All this means is that he cemented himself as the worst poker player.

Luckily Eh Vegas is coming up, I may just have to pick up the slack for him.

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Kissing Suzy Kolber has been trying to figure out what to call the Manning to Tyree play from the Super Bowl. The Catch and The Play are already taken. I think I agree with them on their name of the play. The Giant Snatch. It has a nice ring to it.

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When not hacking up my lungs from the Bird Flu I've been busy making plans with everyone for the trip north of the border to the land of back bacon, Rush and the McKenzie Brothers. I look forward to slinging chips with my friends and setting a Canadian record for most booze consumed in one weekend by a Yank. Astin has a nice little menu set up complete with elk roast. More importantly, I'm currently doing my research of the infamous Toronto strip clubs and their proximity to our hotel location.

I am traveling with the lap dance officianado BWoP, this is a must. Especially after the Waffles fiasco.

If anyone is on the fence about attending Eh Vegas, it's time to make up your mind and make the trip. You'll get to do shots with me, eat Astin's gourmet dinner, play grab-ass with Kat and compare lap dance techniques with CK.

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It's official. I'm sick with the bird flu or sars virus or something exotic. At the time when I should have been sitting comfortably on my bar stool I was instead attempting to sleep between coughing jags by 8pm. I would suggest everyone switch their stock holdings from Southern Comfort to Kleenex. By midnight I couldn't take it anymore and wandered back to the lazy boy laptop. I caught the end of the Mookie just as Otis B Dart busted just short of the final table. Mookie made another nice run attempting to win his own event. Unfortunately he found somebody willing to put their life on the line with King mother effing Ten against his QQ.

I told Mookie that at least he was hit with the 4 card straight on the board instead of caught by the uber-ghey overcard.

Tonight the Riverchasers game features Stud Hi which should be interesting. Not sure how everyone else feels, but I'm enjoying the variety with the bi-weekly non-NLHE Riverchasers game and the weekly Blogger Skills Series. It's never too late to expand your horizons.

Consider this a subtle hint for things that just might in the pipeline for the near future. I suggest everyone start hitting up the token frenzies as it could be time to start stockpiling those Tier I and Tier II tokens. You never know what might pop up all of a sudden on the blogger tournament radar worthy of your attention.

I'm just saying.


Tournament: Riverchasers Online Tour
Where/when: Full Tilt, Thursday 21:00ET
Game: Deepstack Stud Hi
Buyin: $10+1
Password: riverchasers

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Wednesday, February 06, 2008

18 and 1 

I honestly had zero rooting interest heading into Super Bowl Sunday. As an Eagles fan, it's not really possible to pull for a Giants victory. It's a coin flip between who we hate the most, Cowboys or Giants. On the other hand were the chowda eating Massholes who were already preening and planning celebration a month ago. So I did the only thing I could do to build up my interest in the game. I began taking bets on the game. The problem was that apparently there are a lot of decent handicappers running around the pub because every damned one of them took the Giants and points.

So even though I didn't give a rat's ass about the Patriots winning, my wallet cared a little. I started off by pulling for New England to run then table when something strange happened. The first quarter ended and I had seen enough of haughty Belichick, model-banging Brady and that bearded sieve of an offensive line. No god damn way in hell I wanted to see these primadonnas, who dress themselves in the mysteriously in "team first" wardrobe, go undefeated.

I wanted to see a big honkin' choke job by the "best team in NFL history".

In 2004 I cheered right along with the Boston area when the Yankees gacked up a 3 games to none lead in the ALCS. Cocky bastards deserved it. In that same frame of mind, I decided that for the next 3 quarters I wanted to see Brady eating turf or staring at the roof of the dome. For the last two weeks I said I didn't know if I could live in a world where Elisha Manning played in a Super Bowl. Now I found myself pulling for him to channel anyone except himself and win the big game.

Oddly enough, in a bar not very far from where the Eagles play, the majority of the bar was also praying the Patriots gagged. Like someone commented on Deadspin the other day, you can almost here the "18 and 1" chant beginning in New York already. Sort of like the "1918" chant but this one the Patriots will never get away from.

So I lost all my wagers on the score. I more than made up for it by prop betting National Anthem length, coin flips, first turnover (thank you Elisha!) and other silly bets. More importantly I spent the day drinking beer, shooting shots and eating every thing fried I could get my hands on.

Now I can pick back up my hatred for the Giants with their bridge and tunnel fans. Suck it Waffles.

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After I posted yesterday about the outstanding run of binge drinking this weekend (I know, Step 1 of 12) I received a message from BigMike that froze me in place at the keyboard. "I'm sending you the picture and video from Friday night."

And video. Ah crap.

The last thing I want to see is video evidence of my escapades Friday evening. Luckily for me and everyone else, the lighting was horrible so you can't see a damned thing. Big sigh of relief. There were some good shots from the evening including me with a friend of ours before she commenced doing a buffet of shots. Screaming nazis, liquid heroin and some made up shots mixed with various 100 proof booze. At least I wasn't the only one getting looped up that evening.

And it seems things are ramping up for another repeat this weekend. The survival over/under line is getting shorter.

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I actually managed to play some poker this weekend also although not very well.

I got extremely lucky in the renewal of Saturdays with Pauly, since I have very little experience with Pot Limit Omaha. I tight-assed and luckboxed my way to a final table 5th place showing. I even had the cheap lead with 5 left for a short while until I got tired of a donkey potting my big blind every time and took a stand. Not a bad showing since I was probably the 45th best player out of the 46 who signed up.

Sunday I played in the Brit Bloggerment on Stars waiting for the Super Bowl to kick off. I was all over the map in this one thanks to many many Yuengling Lagers before the start. I have no idea where I went out but we did have a Yank take down the title. Riggstad made his way through the minefield to win the tournament. Good times but I've honestly never seen so many people fall deadly in love with baby pairs since the old Party Poker days. I love playing in this tournament and now that football is over I hope to make a regular appearance. Feel free to join me.



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Tonight is the Mookie and BuddyDouche radio. I'm unsure if I'll be able to make it this week. Seems that a weekend of anti-sobriety shortly after kicking the flu doesn't do the body good. The flu is back, if it ever really left, and it's dragging my ass down quickly to the point that I'm might do the unthinkable. Make a doctor's appointment.

If you make it out this evening, good luck and happy fishing.

Tournament: The Mookie
Where/when: Full Tilt, Wednesday 22:00et
Game: Deepstack NLHE
Buyin: $10+1
Password: vegas1

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Tuesday, February 05, 2008

First Binge Weekend of 2008 

There is always a personal inventory that begins the moment I wake up after a long night at the bar. First up is figuring out why the hell I'm awake. If I can sleep the day away after a nice binge that everything is perfect. Saturday morning I woke up too early because it felt like there was a huge lead weight sitting on my chest. Every time I coughed it felt like my head was going to explode. Sure sign that I had a good night. I obviously smoked way too much and my liver was sending out little reminders to my head that I'm a completed drunk ass. The only thoughts going through my head were "water and zantac. water and zantac..."

So I made my lazy ass get out of bed in search of my needed items. I stood up and promptly took a header straight to the floor. What the hell, my damned legs weren't working. Sitting on the edge of the bed I could only come up with one horrible disturbing conclusion. The worst possible scenario on top of the hangover. The dead legs meant only one thing. My drunken uncoordinated fat white ass had done something bad.

I must have danced the night before. And a lot if my legs were any indication.

Oh the pure horror. Now I would spend the entire weekend waiting for people to send me picture and videos of the mess I had created. It's not a pretty thing when I channel my inner Fred Astaire and usually takes a ton of booze to get me there. All that adds up to outstanding entertainment for my more sober friends and horror for the civilian population. Think bowling ball with hippy hair.

So I guess the upstairs opening at the pub went off well. I remember seeing a ton of people drinking like fish. There also seemed to be an abundance of super-cleavage, I'm just waiting for the pictorial evidence from BigMike's camera. The band played well and the drinks were flowing late. We had a girl chunk and passout in the bathroom, or as I like to call her, the next MrsCantHang. I like'm drunk, shallow, mute and with low self-esteem.

My last text message was from Landow at the diner telling me he ordered the largest nastiest pepperoni omelet on the planet. I'm sure he was calling for water and zantac the next morning as well.

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That was just Friday evening. How about Saturday you ask? Wash, rinse, repeat.

Sunday for the Super Bowl? Ditto again only starting at noon.

Monday for work? Screw that shit, I'm staying in bed.

I am currently sitting in a persistent pickled state from which there is no return. I'm taking proposals for video companies to follow me around on binge weekends and my planned travels this year. I'm also taking prop bets on whether I survive this all and make it til 2009.

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