Friday, November 19, 2004

Diary of an Idiot 

I don't know what the hell got into me Wednesday night, but I certainly paid for it all day Thursday. I don't even think I got a decent picture from the entire night. Maybe Landow caught some.

As soon as he walked into the bar, asking for drinks (plural), I knew something was going to happen. Turns out, on the way to the bar he met Bambi as it was crossing the road. In his brand spanking new SUV. So Landow started dropping shots of Soco like it was a summer Friday night.
12 hours later I woke up on the couch with the wifey yelling down the steps asking if I was alright.

Apparently when we got home, I told the wifey I needed to do some writing. Well, obviously whatever I wrote, wasn't worth posting because it was pure crap. I'm pretty sure I also chatted with Sean and PokerGeek. I ended up spending the entire night on the couch with the On Demand Arena Rock channel blaring at obscene decibels. I'm pretty damned sure that my neighbors can't wait for us to move out.

(Speaking of neighbors, can you believe some butt munch actually stole our trash can and recycling bin? Who does that?)

So yesterday's experiment was a little weak from my side but I started to snap out of it after couple hours.

But I still turned down BigMike's offer to hit the bar again. I only turned my pc on long enough to check my email. No poker, no surfing, no writing. Just me, the wife, and CSI. How's that for the rock star lifestyle?


I have to agree with Maudie's last post, I'm starting to get a little twitchy about the poker tournament in Vegas. I was dead money as soon as I signed up. Now, I just don't want to make a fool out of myself. Flipchippro at LasVegasVegas says they're talking about a 10am breakfast meet and greet before the tourney. Think the bar will be open?

I gotta be me.

Seriously. How bad am I gonna get whooped in this thing?


I'm pretty sure Mr. BadBlood is going to revoke my headbanger union card when he finds out that not only did I miss the show, I didn't even know that Slayer and Killswitch Engage were playing in Philly last night.

How's this pic from the bar work for chik pix of the day?


Here's a happy load of horseshit. I guess I shouldn't be suprised since Rolling Stone has been nothing but a junk corporate music rag. The Top 500 Rock Songs.

1. Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan
2. Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones
3. Imagine - John Lennon
4. What's Going On? - Marvin Gaye
5. Respect - Aretha Franklin

So here's my challenge for my few readers. Put a comment or email me with your list of top 5 rock songs. I'll take a poll and see what we can come up with.

I know we can come up with better than Bob effing Dylan as the number 1.


God help me, but I'm heading to Slower Lower Delaware tonight to see one of my friend's last shows with his band. Delaware sucks for 2 reasons, other than the obvious fact that it IS Delaware.

One, the damned bars close at 1am. 1 freaking o'clock in the morning. I'm just getting my booze on at that point.

Two, the filthy lung huggers have taken over and the state is smoke free. So I have to pay my cover charge AND freeze my ass off just to smoke a cigarette at a rock club? Half the fun is trying to see the band through the smog of a thousand smokes in a thousands stained hands.

So if anyone is the neighborhood, and I can't imagine why you would be unless you were visiting a dying relative, I will be at a bar called Bubba's in Dover. Of course it had to be named Bubba's.

Yahoo and yeehaw.


I hope everyone has a good weekend and I'll catch ya later.


Thursday, November 18, 2004

Another experiment 

Since it worked sooooo well a couple of months ago, the BoyGenius and I have decided to get my ass back in gear so we're going to be exchanging emails at an alarming rate. And we're going to share them with you, my dedicated reader (singular). I have no idea how this is going to go. I imbibed well last night and paying for it today.

Check back later. The emails will be appended to the bottom.

By the way, here's the link for "Passed out Lewey". I'm assuming there MIGHT be a question about that later.

Also, it appears the CJ from UpforPoker needs the pull of the poker blogging/reading community. Go here and vote for Beth Brotherton. She should be winning by the end of the day.

What's up BG,

Ok, let’s give this email posting a shot again. (oof, who said shot?).

Running a bit on the slow side today due to some exceptional drinking that was accomplished last night. Reader beware.

Considering my condition at the moment, I was interested to see one of the newest comments on my site by reader JunctionJoe. Welcome Joe.

“Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas good men eat and drink that they may live.”Socrates. 469BC-399BC

According to Socrates, I’m a very bad man. I definitely spend a lot of time in “Eat, drink, and be merry” mode. But that doesn't mean I sacrifice "living" for gratification.

Does traveling count as gratification? I feel fortunate to have spent some great vacations doing everything from spending the day in and climbing the tower of the Cathedral in Cologne Germany to partying with a million whack jobs during MardiGras.

Of all my vacations, I'd have to rate my bachelor party as the tops. BigMike and Caucci carried me off to Germany and Amsterdam for a week. One day we spent the entire time inside the Cathedral in Cologne, the very next day we were sitting in a "coffee" house in Amsterdam across the canal from the prostitutes. The next day we were figuring out which museums to go to.

A great time was had by all.

That brings me to your question. I'll start with a softball. What was your best vacation?


Back to JuntionJoe's comment.

Socrates was a fool! He killed himself because he had to comply with the state as part of his belief system. Any philosopher, be it Socrates, Diogenes, or Epicurius, usually has the fatal flaw of being short-sighted. They adhere to their beliefs even when their common sense and best interests speak to the opposite. I am not a philosopher. I think I accomplish too much for that. The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom.


Alistair, old bean…

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom” was coined by a guy who liked to draw spooky demons and was a manic depressive who was brought up once on charges of treason.

I’m just saying…

I’m happy to share what my top vacation was, but frankly it makes for a lousy story. Since I’m all about the entertainment, I’d rather tell a good story about a lousy vacation if you don’t mind (best vacation – NYC for spring break in college, walking the city alone, touring the Met by myself – I’m a hermit, what can I tell you?)…

Back in the summer of 1991, I was going into my senior year of high school, and was about a month away from packing up and leaving Utah behind for good. My dad, in his inane attempt to try to get me to attend his alma mater, signed me up for a summer youth camp up at Michigan Tech in their theatre program.

Now, I was a pretty talented kid so far as the acting was concerned. Especially comedy. I was sharp like a razor, and had a bit of a swagger about it onstage. I only mention this to preface the ego I was lugging with me into the North Woods of Michigan’s desolate Upper Peninsula.

So I get into “class” on day one, and immediately note that I have two years at least, four years on average, on every other person in the class. Every last one. There’s not a soul in sight that’s remotely close to my age, and no one remotely close to being as experienced as I was either. So on day one I sit there and participate like a good egg. Day two I’m still being a good kid. Inside though, I’m boiling over with boredom. Nothing frustrated me more in those times than to be reined in, and here I was playing fucking mime games with seventh graders.

I look at the calendar and note that I still have three and a half weeks to restrain myself and play nice. Fuck playing nice. Fuck it right up its stupid ass.

The next day we get into class and are playing the classic theatre improve game “Freeze.” It entails having two or more people start a scene together, someone from the audience yelling “Freeze!” and tapping one person out. They then carry the scene in a completely different direction, forcing the other(s) onstage to respond and react. I’ve had it up to here. I’m pissed off at my dad, I’m bored to tears, I can’t hold it in any longer.

“Freeze!” I pop onstage and tap out some kid and am left up there with a girl of about 13. “Why you…” I grumble as I’m approaching her and “SMACK!” I turn her cheek with one of those fake slaps. “You whore!” I scream, as I start berating her. I’m keeping the profanity in check, but am certainly using more “big boy” words than a seventh grader would have heard on the bus by this point.

The room was dead silent. They let me play this out just a little too long. She started crying. And no, she wasn’t “acting.” The barrage I was heaping on her shoulders was just too much. She went from doe-eyed innocent to spoiled and scarred in about forty-five seconds. So did just about every other twelve year old in the room.

This kept up until the facilitator, some college girl with an attitude, basically dragged me out of there by my ear lobe and laid into me outside. How I was being “inappropriate,” and she didn’t care how bored I was, these kids were here to learn, and I was not going to spoil their good time by being an asshole. She gave me that bullshit trip about “being one of the people to set an example” due to my age and experience, but didn’t hesitate to tell me she’d bounce me back home in a heartbeat if I kept this crap up.

It really would have been more fun had I tried to push it as far as she’d let it go. Really.

I giggle with glee thinking about that day. I was such a prick, I swear to god.

Funny thing about that trip. I made friends with two guys who were going into high school in the same town in which I ended up going to college. So one night my freshman year, I’m out with a couple of friends and we stop at a party store to grab a pop before running over to the Union to do some bowling. Through the window of an adjacent coffee shop I see these two guys with another group of guys, all dressed like fucking French poets or something. I think one may have even had a beret on. Anyway, I popped in to say “hi” to these guys. They’re all smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee, and I believe at least one of them had a book of poetry on his lap.

I said my greetings, and as sullen teenagers are wont to do, they didn’t exactly show enthusiasm and basically grunted hello back. Then they asked what I was up to, and I pointed to my friends outside and said, “My friends and I are going bowling,” at which point the dude in the beret (I’m remembering him as French, so kiss my ass) makes that “PFFT” noise, and huffs “Bowling!” half under his breath.

I’ve never wanted to kick someone’s ass so much before in my life. We can’t all sit around reading Plath and feeling sorry for ourselves there dickweed.

I’ve only ever been in one fight before though. Some neighbor kid stole my baseball cards, denied it, and then gave them back to me – all bent up. He deserved a whuppin, and I was thrilled to oblige.

Even though we’re not supposed to talk about Fight Club, got any good ass kickin’ stories to keep me entertained?


So BoyWonder, you don't like me using Blake while bitch slapping Socrates? How about some Billy Joel?

"I believe I've passed the age, of consciousness and righteous rage. I found that just surviving is a noble fight."

The number one rule of fight club.......

Looks like middle class housewives will be getting some new soap.

I've never been much of a fighter. I wrote a story for Pauly's Truckin' e-zine which turned out to be more breaking up a fight, than actually being in a fight. Band wives start fighting, band members break them up, band members start fighting. Street riot breaks out.

There's plastered Al in the middle trying to break it up.

I'm typically a very mellow drunk. The only time I seem to have a problem is if someone gets between me and my booze. Then we've got a problem. The main fight I'm having these days is between my liver, brain, and my oddly placed will to live.

Every once in awhile, I get this little fellow in my head whispering maybe I should go at least 48 hours without getting loopy again. He seems to make valid arguments like health, income, family.

So then I just grab a bottle and drown that lil' fucker.

So there's my fight. Don'tcha know man, I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Ok, no fancy segue's from this hack. Straight to the hard hitting questions. How about some poker? or a poker blogger related question?

Which bloggers are you most disappointed won't be able to make the December Vegas round up?

For me, it's simple. I'd love to knock back somemany beers with Scott, and then sit back with Halverson and try to figure out how he's managed to survive in the great flyover state all while trying to hoist Iggy up into his booster seat at the poker table.


Mssr. Scant Wang,

Can I tell you how delighted I am to have thought of “Al’s Scant Wang” as your Mad Magazine name? Makes me chuckle, even if only Mrs. Scant Wang (one would hope) and Mama Scant Wang know the truth.

Yeah, I’m a little disappointed we’re not going to be graced by Scott, Chris, and Iggs. It’s unfair that you get to ask the question then give the answer, as you pretty much stole my thunder. Add Hank, Sean, and Gene-O to that mix as well, and just know that I would have loved to see forty or more bloggers kicking it old school in Vegas.

I just love that phrase… “Kicking it old school.” Are we talking “old school” like the Rat Pack? Or maybe “old school” like shell toe Adidas? Whatever. So long as we’re not “Hangin’ Tough” like the NKOTB or anything. They were really old school.

By the way, I really figured with your crew you’d have a better fight story than that. Something about Big Mike blowing the hell up when the dude across the bar kept calling him “Siragusa” or something, and you, Lewey, and Landow having to get his back. I’m not a fighter either though. I always tell people that I’d be most useful in a fight as the guy who gets down on his hands and knees behind the big dude’s knees so they can push him over more easily.

That’s about as good as I get. In a fight at least. I can get pretty good in some other ways. As a matter of fact, I have a few hidden talents that I don’t think many people know about. First off, I can juggle three similarly sized items. I can type pointless and mindless drivel to the tune of 2000 words a day if I’m properly motivated. I can even type with my eyes closed, and know when I’ve made a mistake and how far back I need to go to correct it.

But there’s one talent that I rarely let out of the bag anymore. Blues harmonica. That’s right, I can play the harp. Unfortunately, this isn’t a talent I get to display very often. I used to play along with CDs in my dorm in college, which I think pissed off a great many of my floor mates. I actually ran across an opportunity to play this past weekend when my dad’s going away party featured a guitar player just noodling out some blues and jazz.

I went up to the guy and requested a semi-obscure (to my non-jazz fan friends) Wes Montgomery tune, to which the guy replied, “You gonna play that one with me?” Well, to be fair, it was a pretty hard song to play all by himself. I asked him to play “Unit 7,” another semi-obscure Montgomery tune, and he obliged. Does anything put a hop in your step quite like having the band (or in this case, the guy) play the song you requested?

Still, if I had my harmonica there, I would have sat in. That would have been fun.

So save “putting away mass quantities of Southern Comfort,” which we all acknowledge is pretty special (in that helmet-on-the-bus sort of way), what tricks can you pull out of the bag?


Hey there Lunchbox,

I'm starting to feel a bit of humanity creep back into my being. Marlboro and a little hair o' the dog (later, not during work) should make me right as rain.

Since I've been throwing random quotes here and there, here's a funny one I found....

"Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit."
W. Somerset Maugham
So let's see, what tricks do I have to pull out.....

1. I have a weird ability to regurgitate lines different comedies. Drives the wife crazy. Fast Times at Ridgemont High, any Kevin Smith movie (FLY FATASS FLY!), etc. Christ, I could probably do Eddie Murphy's standup routing from Delirious and Raw. Don't know if that's a trick, but it cracks me up on lonely nights.

2. I have this odd ability to... hmmm..... errrr.... produce methane on command. This skill my wife is spectacularly impressed with.

See you take the high road, and I take the low road

BG - obscure jazz songs
Al - body functions

Someone help me!

3. I have found in myself the ability to completely forget all the lessons learned about playing this game of poker. How is it possible to read the books, play thousands of hands, and still be a complete nudge at the table?

4. Apparently I also have the incredible ability to turn a phrase and write prose that would bring a Texan to tears. Can you believe they actually pay me to write this crap? Oh wait. No one pays me.

You would think after writing so many useless words I'd finally write something memorable. Maybe number 2 will get me there. A thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters. Or something like that.

Since you won't let me use my ability to drink mass quantities of booze as my trick, I'd have to say that I am/was a fairly decent baseball/softball player before my knees turned to mush. After 'retiring', I moved on to coach a couple of teams. We had a mediocre record, but my team could drink any other under the table. Oh wait, back to the drinking again.

How about we combine the two passions for the next question.

We know the blogfather won't be making the trip, so which blogger do you think will pick up in his place and trudge along with me towards drunken Vegas infamy?

Random chik pix for Pauly and BadBlood. Still with us boys?


Wednesday, November 17, 2004

"People on 'ludes should not drive."
That's the first line that popped into my head when I saw the video of Trimspa spokesmodel, Quaalude popping, colon cleaning, Anna Nicole Smith on the American Music Awards the other night.

(disclaimer: I didn't actually watch that rubbish, just heard about it and found the video on line.)

I think she needs a visit when the good doctor returns. Think you can take care of that Pauly.


As I mentioned earlier, since I returned from the island vacation, I have been getting absolutely crushed at work, blitzed afterwards, and (even when I don't go out) passing out quickly when getting home. With all this going on, I am now forced to get up extra early so I can get some writing on this here blog done. Especially since I was called out by BadBlood. Just kidding. About BadBlood. Not the crushing amount of work.

I hope everyone appreciates the sleep sacrifice I'm making. The wife is still asleep, I'm smoking like a fiend, and watching SportsCenter for the third time.


How 'bout dem Cowboys! Sorry.

That was fun to watch and exactly what my boys needed after getting bitch slapped and man handled by those guys from the 'burgh.

While I was watching the game (and I missed the much ballyhooed opening with the chick from Desperate Housewives), I was sweating the BoyGenius in a big multi on PokerStars. He played well and finished 82nd out of something like 5,635 players. Ok, possibly a slight exaggeration, but it was a lot of players.


I hit a new bar the other day that just opened with the wifey, BigMike, and Landow. It's not really a new bar, but an old hangout which was bought out, remodeled, and re-opened. It has been transformed from a local hangout (ie. comfy dive bar) into a respectable restaurant and tavern. It's also conveniently located on the way home, and a short drive from the Boathouse which is my regular hang out.

Not a bad sign when the bartender welcomes you by name and has the bottle of Soco in his hand at the same time. They also had a great menu. We a couple of healthy sized shots and excellent Sheppards Pie. As we were discussing how much money the Boathouse was going to lose when we started spending more time at Pogey's, in walks the GM from the Boat. I guess we're not 'cheating' on the bar when the big-boss-man hangs there also.

sssshhhh, once their upstairs section is finished remodeling, there has been talk of weekly freerolls run by yours truly. Since the Boathouse has been unwilling to let me start freerolls there, I don't feel bad drawing a huge crowd to another bar. We'll see what happens.


The Vegas trip is getting closer and I'm finally starting to feel ready for it. I'm now excited to see of Charlie Shoten (WCP and contributor to LasVegasVegas). And not for the normal reasons like playing with a pro, picking his brain, etc.

It seems that the poker bloggers favorite toolbag, Jay Lovinger, had a run-in with Charlie during one of the Foxwood events.

"I bet $300 of the $875 I have left, and WPT runner-up Charlie Shoten -- a
dead ringer, albeit in miniature form, for Daddy Warbucks of "Little Orphan
Annie" fame -- goes all-in. Now what can Charlie have?..... so I lose to
Shoten's J-10; and, once again, I'm on the loose, only $390 poorer than when I
arrived less than two hours earlier."
hehehe. Think Charlie even knew who this buttmunch was?

I'm going to go out of a limb and give me the longest odds of winning the blogger tourney in Vegas and I'll probably be the first out. Maybe I shouldn't drink during the tourney. Yeah, ok.

I'm still working on getting BigMike and Lewey out there for the trip. Everyone else needs to meet these guys.


Speaking of Lewey. He has finally returned to work after an extra week of vacation. After a long conversation with myself and BigMike, he has agreed to let me put the 'Passed out Lewey' pic on the website. So here you go.

I'm still not allowed to write about the "Running of Lewey Part Deux" but I'll work on that. Just for you my faithful readers.

Classic stuff. I'll just have to tell the story in person when we hit Vegas.


BigMike and myself are in the middle of working together on a post from the St.Martin trip. I need to write about the joys and benefits of drinking and floating in the pool at the same time. BigMike will be writing about his experiences in passing out in the pool after floating/drinking. Great stuff. I definitely recommend you try it. Now I see why everyone likes those swim-up bar at the resorts.


In closing, BG sent me a link to the Anti-Christ. Hypnosis for Freedom from Alcohol.


Burn her at the stake.
"Imagine how nice it will feel to create an overwhelming desire for
water, juice or tasty beverage when your mind used to want Jagermeister.
Seriously, don't ever drink that stuff. It tastes like motor oil and makes you
do nasty things."


Monday, November 15, 2004

Relaxation, Stoli, and a new spokesmodel 

"The moral of this story is that totally hammered people shouldn't play poker
after midnight."
Good advice. Maybe I should heed the warning and not let the blogfather talk me into late night drunk Party Poker heads up matches. Probably would help the bankroll alot.

This weekend I managed to let the fishies gut and filet me properly. 5 straight SnG's out of the money and none were even close. Only one bubble and I was severely shortstacked when it got down to 4.

Then I jumped on poker tracker to look at the individual tourneys. Somewhere along the line I lost my aggressiveness. Well hell, easy enough to fix.

Next 3 tourneys, 1st or 2nd in all three. Now why couldn't I figure that out AS I was playing?


So 9 straight hours of drinking yesterday sitting at the bar watching football (and the Simpson's afterwards). It was cool sitting around with Kevin, drinking, and watching 12 football games. Perfect for the football fan with a touch of ADD. It's enough to make your head a little fuzzy. Well, just the booze would be enough to make my head fuzzy, the rest was just a bonus.

My friend Kevin ordered Stoli on the Rocks.

Now you weren't expecting anything other than low brow humor, were ya?


So I think I'm finally caught up with all my blogger reading from vacation. Apparently we had some sort of electoral process while I was gone? I've enjoyed the numerous 'Chicken Little' posts and bluster from both sides. My two favorite. One outrageous email that Carter posted from someone. I can't quite figure out if she was for Kerry or Bush. You tell me.


But nothing beats this recap of the election. (Warning: there might be some F-bombs)

2004 election recap


The new spokesmodel of poker. She's no Shana Hiatt, but she does good work.


Since Scott asked for details, here they are for the Vegas hookup tourney straight from the good doctor. Pauly rocks for setting this all up with Dick from Buy It In Vegas.

December 11th at Sam's Town starting at 1pm. I believe there is a 30 player max and we're getting very close to it. PokerProf has the current list of players signed up.

See you there!


And the latest news, with the frequent flyer miles gained from St. Martin, I now have enough for a free roundtrip business class ticket to Australia. Who's wit me?


Now go do something useful.