Wow, Has It Been That Long?

~

Yes. It's always been that long.

It's not big deal, most women can get it all in there.

I welcome you back to reading about me. One of my favorite things for you to do with yourself. Other things I love for you to do involve talking about me, writing about me, and thinking about me. I must feed my ego. If my head doesn't maintain its girth I look terribly disproportionate, what with the huge junk and all.

I've just recently returned home form a trip the kids have deemed Mastodon Weekend. I had a great time. Did you go? Did you have a great time? Awesome. Let's tell stories and get all teary eyed!

The fact is, I haven't been able to attend many of the recent Vegas gatherings. I've managed to squeak out a couple small things over the past couple years but my funds have seen better days and I've had to sacrifice trips with friends to be able to afford the day to day things I need to live. Things like the custom made condoms, counter-weighted tighty whiteys to ease the back pain, and pork products.

I was able to make this particular trip out of the kindness of others and the promise I perform like a monkey for them whenever they yell, "DANCE, MONKEY!!" Or maybe it was just that I pay them back at bonus time.

Either way, I couldn't have made this happen without others. The last year has been humbling and hectic and stressful and many much more big words and stuff. I'm almost out of those weeds but because I'm not there yet I had to abstain from drinking the expense stuff, prop-betting like a wild man, and playing the cash games.

Which leads me to the poker tournament, which I did play.

I have probably logged about 10 solid hours of poker play in the last 2 years. That might come as a surprise to those of you who know me as the 860th Greatest Poker Player in the World (As of 6/3/2005) and also to those of you who know me as the 27th Greatest Poker Blogging Poker Player in the World (As of the first Pokerstars Poker Blogging Championship) and also as those who know me as the first blogger qualifier out of the WPBT group for the 2005 series and also to those who know me as the Saturdays With Pauly champion of 2006 (?) where I won the coveted title and engraved iPod Nano in sudden death overtime and also maybe as just a caring, lovable old Korean lady.

Anyhow, it makes total sense that I would make the final table.



To you poker newbies out there wondering how you might also be able to achieve such greatness I will offer up a brief synopsis of my play so that you may study it in your mom's basement near your Jar Jar Binks poster.

I had Badblood and the Mark to my left so I played only in spots where I could take some sort of control. Any other hand early on, for the most part, I tried to stay out of. Eventually I busted a local. Then I specifically entered a hand to mix it up with a Pokerstars media dude when the Mark jumped in without asking. Pushy fellow, the Mark. So I pushed or called, I can't really remember, and then promptly fell behind and rivered a four to the board straight to knock him out.

I continued to pick spots and play only where I felt I could take some control and found myself usually below the average but chipping up whenever I needed to stop the bleeding.

Then I did shots.

There were many, much shots. And beer. And maybe some soco and redbull. More beer. Not much food as I don't eat sushi. More drinks. Shakiness. Then the final five.

It's that easy, people.

I was a slight second in chips to Badblood as we entered the final five paying spots. We had most the chips it seemed. I promptly started bleeding chips to Otis and was eventually out in 4th when I couldn't come from behind any longer.

I did get a fancy shirt from Bustout Poker for busting the Mark. I also got a dirty, game-worn hat from Lee Jones for busting him.

On the subject of the hat...

I bust him at the final table. He walks off. A few minutes later he leans over my shoulder and hands me his hat saying, "You win this for busting me." I say thanks as I note the sweat ring and recall seeing him wear it all night. As I look up I see he's wearing a brand spanking new Bustout Poker hat. I see what you did there, Lee. Well played, sir. I couldn't help but recall cousin Eddie asking Clark if he'd like a cold one.

While taking 4th was great for a guy who never really played or wrote about poker all that much, I was really hoping for top 2 money. That would have paid for the weekend. As it stood the money I did win kept my total spend to a couple hundred bucks, which resulted in a fun to fund ratio that was really, um...Damn. I having a tough time coming up with an analogy about something huge to compare that to right now. Odd.

I have more things to talk about. Hopefully I will write about them in the next few days. I do tend to get a little lazy, but I would like to talk about how I've still got it, degenerate prop-betting, southern hospitality, and many much more stuff about me and things.

I run good. Gooder than I write.

Until then, thanks again to Otis, Blood, G-Rob, and The Mark for hosting a fantastic weekend. Thanks as well, to Azia Restaurant for a ridiculous venue, and to Bustout Poker for the swag and sponsorship.

Thanks

~

Jesus taught me to do many things. Among these nuggets of wisdom, be nice to people, give thanks whenever possible, don't stereotype others, and never get in between a black man and his watermelon.

This has been a banner year for me in that I feel I've executed God's will to the best of my abilities. And when you're on top of your Jesus game it makes you realize how much better you are than others.

But still, even one as close to on par with Jesus as I am, I have plenty to be thankful for. I shall now bless you with a short list.

1. Thank you, shitty drivers. (Women, black women, foreigners) If it weren't for your continued butchery of all things considered proper on the roadways I don't think I could maintain the impressive level of inner anger necessary to keep from falling asleep.

2. Thank you, everyone born after 1980. You're overall lack of awareness and your profound sense of entitlement is impressive. When coupled with your amazing level of laziness these qualities fuel my burning desire to live long enough and work hard enough so that someday I will have enough money to avoid jail time after punching every single one of you floppy haired douchebags square in your deer-in-headlights slack-jawed faces.

3. Thank you, Jews. You know what for.

So in conclusion I would like to add an additional set of thank you's to everyone I missed, though I think the above list captures almost everyone.

I could have done it without you, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.

Now we move on towards Christmas and a brand new year. I hope your year has been as good as mine and a hearty IN YOUR FACE! if it wasn't.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

My New Book For 8 Year Olds

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(Chapters 1 and 2 appear at the bottom of this post in case you missed when these were posted.)

Chapter 3. This is daddy's cup. You can't drink from this and if you tell mommy about it I will take away your phone.

You see, there are certain things I've tried to teach you that you only need to remember for a few more years. Like, that there's a Santa Claus. Or that the Easter Bunny is real. Or that Jesus died for your sins. (He totally only died for Janie's sins. LOL, just kidding. Jesus doesn't exist!)

This whole "your cup" or "daddy's cup" thing is only just so you learn to drink what we put in front of you and that you don't lose focus and want to drink something else instead. It's important that you drink what we give you for a couple reasons. One, it'll make you big and strong so that someday you will grow to the size you're supposed to be. Ultimately, you'll be healthier and stronger if you drink your cup every day. The other reason, and possibly more important reason, is that I must establish who the master is. I am the master. You will do as I say, little monkey. If I yell "DANCE!" then you will dance, monkey. If I say you have to "go to bed," you go to bed. If I say "eat your vegetables," you eat your vegetables. If I say "shut your little whore mouth," then I'm talking to your mother. Completely disregard that command.

Chapter 4. Give me that phone. How old do you think you are?

Who gave you this phone, anyways? Was it your mother? Because that would explain things. Our money has gotta be going somewhere. I make it and deposit it and then sometime soon after our balance has somehow become lower than your mom's sagging tits. Here's the thing. You think you need a phone to keep in contact with your friends but here's a little hint for you. In fifteen years you won't know any of these people. Honestly. Daddy didn't get to be this old and savvy without being able to read people.

That friend of yours, Hannah, will be pregnant before her sophmore year. Mark it down. Kimmy? I'm pretty sure she's mildly retarded so she won't even be attending the same school as you. Tina? Criminal. Remember these words: She will be scissoring her cellmate before you finish college, and that's a guarantee.

What daddy is trying to say is that people go their separate ways all the time. You're young. You may end up at different schools, playing different sports, and ultimately finding a whole new group of people you connect with.

Which brings me back to your phone.

You're lucky that criminal Tina hasn't stolen it from you yet. I'm telling you...criminal. There's nobody that needs to get a hold of you who can't call you at home or grab your attention at school. You're dependent upon mommy and daddy for everything. Mommy gave you that phone because she's compensating for all the things she didn't have when she was a kid like money, new clothes, friends, dignity. You need to text "LOL" to Kimmy about as much as your mother needs another donut. Gimme that phone and go do your homework.

Chapters also featured in the hardcover edition.

Chapter 5. The gypsies are real and if you don't behave I will give you to them.

Chapter 6. If you want to dress like a slut then I'll treat you like a slut. Wait, what?

Chapter 7. Basic Geometry

~

Chapter 1. Daddy isn't buying you a dog because, although you won't understand if for a few years, you don't really give a shit if you have a dog or not.

Sure, you think you want a dog right now because that little slut Janie down the street has one. Nobody likes to be outdone by Janie. I know this. But all of those traits that make Janie the one to look up to now are the same traits that will ultimately make Janie the high school cum dumpster. Oh, I know this is a little above your head and you may be thinking that even that would be pretty cool. Actually, it is pretty cool. For (and during) high school it is. But after high school is over Janie is going to be the one desperately clinging to those years and never moving ahead.

And you know what?

Janie will still have that goddamn shed-monster of a dog. Is that what you want? To be washed up at 20, still having to clean piss off the floor of your parent's basement (this is where you will be living) every time your dog decides you haven't shown it enough attention? Good, now go play in the other room and let daddy and his computer have some adult time.

Chapter 2. The real world isn't a television show. It's an actual world. That is real. That is also 30 feet away from you. Drop the snack and turn the goddamn television off. It's time to go play in the yard.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that at age 8 you can create a facebook profile, blog, and figure out how to talk to your friends via webcam. It's impressive. Daddy can't hardly figure out how to maximize the screen of the porn he's trying to watch without somehow finding out he's purchased a year long subscription to Spunk Mouth. Thankfully he doesn't know how to unsubscribe either, but that's not the point.

You need to get out more.

I would have thought my Italian heritage would have come through better but your skin is paler than your mom's tits. Though I'm just speculating because officer Jenkins tells me it's no longer acceptable to get within 200 yards of her and also that looking into windows at night (Even if they were bought by you!) is something called "peeping" and it's illegal. At any rate, you need some sun. The glow of the computer screen is turning you into an 8 year old version of your mother. Without the frigidness, of course.

So what can you do? Plenty of things! You can rake the pavement like that retarded boy down the street. You can sell that blind kid in the wheelchair your crappy baseball cards like daddy does. You can do anything you want! So long as it involves the sun, interaction with others at some point, and a promise that you won't come back inside unexpectedly so daddy has enough time to put away any incriminating adult items.

~

Home Alone

~

Home all alone this week and I must say I've been getting a lot of things accomplished. There's the studying and understanding of such insanely exciting things like Von Willenbrands Factor, the Circle of Willis, and Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic PurPura. There is also the equally interesting uncovering and study of exciting new streaming porn videos, not to mention afternoon beers and naps.

I've also been working on improving my comfort while studying on the couch (Built a kick-ass pillow support system) and have developed new theories on the best way to study out of a binder while maximizing your ability to fall quickly and comfortably asleep when it's deemed necessary without having to move.

Yes, it IS possible to fall asleep while studying from a large binder without waking up moments later because the plastic is digging into your arm. It's possible, you just have to want it.

Don't ever give up, I just now started saying.

Well, time to go. These chapters don't read themselves.

Plus the sheets are done drying and it's time to build a fort!

~

Blogging

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Interesting that one can blog from their phone these days. It's almost as easy as pie. Which I never thought was easy but what am I, some sort of pie expert?

I do so much on my iPhone that I really only need a few more applications and I'll never have to speak to people again. Early thought on the subject reveals a need for a text to voice app and maybe a wider screen for porn.

I figure I only need to wait maybe six months and apple nerds around the world will have that taken care of. On my side I really only need to do one thing.

Find new porn.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Up Early

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Maybe that's what it takes to get me to write these days.

Spent last night with Elizabeth (Q if you're Cerbin) at Ruth Chris Steakhouse. Pretty impressive on my part since she's a vegetarian, but then again if you've ever seen my Blue Steel you'd understand how I convinced her.

If you don't know about the movie Zoolander and what "Blue Steel" refers to in that movie consider this a reference to my Thrice Confirmed Huge Junk.

Although it's entirely possible she went with me because we had a $100 gift card to use. It was one or the other.

Thankfully she'll eat fish. This meant a delicious shrimp appetizer, tuna sashimi, and thai chili onion rings to start. I followed that up with a bone-in ribeye. I was, after all, at a steakhouse. I fought the desire to ask them for extra butter on the 500 degree plate they serve their steaks on.

On Sportscenter just now they showed a highlight of Joe Montana's kid throwing a touchdown to Will Smith's kid. What the hell? I feel like I just got done watching Joe Montana play football a few years ago. And Will Smith should have nothing older than a 10 year old. What's wrong with the universe that everything around me is growing up faster than I am?

HOLY FUCK!!!!111

Penis jokes are still funny, right?!? Anyone? Penis jokes???

I decided to look some stuff up for all 4 of you who read this. You might want to sit down, lest your mind be blown straight out your asshole.

IT HAS BEEN ALMOST 16 YEARS SINCE OJ KILLED (ALLEGEDLY) NICOLE BROWN SIMPSON AND RON GOLDMAN!

During this time you could have raised a child from scratch (medical term) and your little disrespectful floppy-haired douchebag of a kid would be in high school driving his car to and from his other "different by being the same" mop-headed mildly retarded always writing in text shortcuts slack-jawed moron friend's houses trying pot together and probably raping girls with their other lacrosse buddies while you sit at home getting fat and blaming it all on AD/HD and not on your lack of parenting skills and inability to use birth control.

Or you could have gone to college FOUR times! Of course, this would only be possible if you were like, full Comanche. Or, apparently, if you were foreign. Somehow all you need for a couple Escalades, two liquor stores, a gas station, and what appears to be enough money that you could just constantly go to college, is to be foreign. And if I'm wrong how do you explain EVERY LIQUOR STORE AND GAS STATION AND DUNKIN DONUTS IN, WELL, EVERY STATE!

Man, it's like they hand them out with your green card.

IT'S BEEN ALMOST 14 YEARS SINCE THAT CHICK JEWEL BOMBED THE OLYMPICS!

I've always maintained that her fucked up "Jewel Tooth" is evil. It just sits there, half hidden by her "look at me I'm a harmless shitty poet-singer-songwriter" grin, but when you can catch a glimpse of it you can see it. A dark, mangled, evil portal to hell.

Of this I'm certain.

Jewel and her evil Jewel Tooth definitely pipe-bombed the Olympic Park in Atlanta.

You will not be able to convince me otherwise. Hell, she even ruined the life of that security guard who they blamed. Damn, what was his name? Richard something, right?

IT'S BEEN 8 YEARS SINCE THE SEPTEMBER 11TH ATTACKS!

In this time you could have done...well...not much. It's only been 8 years. What am I, some sort of Asian math whiz or something? I've got shit to watch on TV and some frozen burritos that aren't going to eat themselves, compadre.

So you get my point, I hope, that time flies faster than our minds seem to age. That's probably a good thing. Or maybe not. What do I know? I'm just up early and trying to write something for the first time in what seems like 3 days.

Excerpts From my New Book for 8 Year Olds

~

Chapter 1. Daddy isn't buying you a dog because, although you won't understand if for a few years, you don't really give a shit if you have a dog or not.

Sure, you think you want a dog right now because that little slut Janie down the street has one. Nobody likes to be outdone by Janie. I know this. But all of those traits that make Janie the one to look up to now are the same traits that will ultimately make Janie the high school cum dumpster. Oh, I know this is a little above your head and you may be thinking that even that would be pretty cool. Actually, it is pretty cool. For (and during) high school it is. But after high school is over Janie is going to be the one desperately clinging to those years and never moving ahead.

And you know what?

Janie will still have that goddamn shed-monster of a dog. Is that what you want? To be washed up at 20, still having to clean piss off the floor of your parent's basement (this is where you will be living) every time your dog decides you haven't shown it enough attention? Good, now go play in the other room and let daddy and his computer have some adult time.

Chapter 2. The real world isn't a television show. It's an actual world. That is real. That is also 30 feet away from you. Drop the snack and turn the goddamn television off. It's time to go play in the yard.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that at age 8 you can create a facebook profile, blog, and figure out how to talk to your friends via webcam. It's impressive. Daddy can't hardly figure out how to maximize the screen of the porn he's trying to watch without somehow finding out he's purchased a year long subscription to Spunk Mouth. Thankfully he doesn't know how to unsubscribe either, but that's not the point.

You need to get out more.

I would have thought my Italian heritage would have come through better but your skin is paler than your mom's tits. Though I'm just speculating because officer Jenkins tells me it's no longer acceptable to get within 200 yards of her and also that looking into windows at night (Even if they were bought by you!) is something called "peeping" and it's illegal. At any rate, you need some sun. The glow of the computer screen is turning you into an 8 year old version of your mother. Without the frigidness, of course.

So what can you do? Plenty of things! You can rake the pavement like that retarded boy down the street. You can sell that blind kid in the wheelchair your crappy baseball cards like daddy does. You can do anything you want! So long as it involves the sun, interaction with others at some point, and a promise that you won't come back inside unexpectedly so daddy has enough time to put away any incriminating adult items.