Mastodon Weekend Writeup Pre-game

Date: Tue, Mar 9, 2010

G-Vegas
March 2010

I was reminded from a friend through a friend via a friend that I don't write here nearly often enough. It's been a long time since I've felt any desire to throw anything out here other than the occasional update. I'm getting my poker writing fix over on Full Tilt and I get to riff on the idiotic soccer world over at Soccerati (when I can) but it seems I needed to take back a little of the personal life. I'm still tearing apart bars one giant shot at a time, blasting my brain cells at the same rate, even seeing crazy shit that would make for a great post. That doesn't mean I'm not writing about them. I just haven't posted them here.

There is a site out there, you'll just never find it. AKA my dumpsite.

I long ago gave up the cloak of anonymity that most enjoy with their site/blog/social networking. I dropped it willingly by posting my own pictures early and openly talking about where/when/what the hell I was doing on a regular basis. Still no one really knew who the hell I was outside BigMike who spent most of those idiotic nights perched on a barstool next to me. It's become an odd situation where so many people actually know me now I've been forced to edit myself for the sake of others who generally would prefer to not have their name associated with my insanity. Hell, even some of my friends "before blog" stopped hanging out for fear they'd see their nickname in print. I can't blame any of my new friends for not wanting their connection to me known to the entire world.

With all that said, I'll be back soon with at least Day 1 of the 2010 Mastodon Weekend insanity and that should snowball back to getting me in the swing.

"Write about every gut punch" I was once told, let's see if that actually fucking works.

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Mastodon Weekend Explained

Date: Wed, Feb 17, 2010

Bad blogger, bad blogger. I've just been so wrapped up in everything running around in my life that this spot is mostly a keeper of things in the past. I have several uberposts which may or may not ever see the light of the internets, but until then it's time for a flashback. Mastodon Weekend.

I hate making plans other than a rag tag set of travel itineraries which force me here and there throughout the year. Over planning generally just serves as an excuse for me to go in my own direction and create another set of circumstances that likely end in my short disappearance. Mastodon Weekend 2009 started in this fashion. I planned to be at a certain place on a certain date and things exploded into a mess of booze and car bombs and illegal human racing.

I found myself at the beginning of 2009 looking at a life wide open. MrsCantHang and myself had recently inked the deal ending our shock and awe relationship that was basically a series of burning bridges and brain cells. My bank account was sitting very nicely, I was homeless, and I can't stand the cold weather of the NorthEast. It was decided to hop a train from DC down the eastern seaboard eventually ending with a few months power drinking with the kids of Key West. Several stops were in the works including a stop in G-Vegas South Cackalacky to hang out with the boys, sling some chips, and support the single mother strippers of the world.

Otis and the boys were ready for a mini-onslaught when it started to expand. The BoyGenius happened to have some vacation to burn so why not hop down from Chicago. Dr. Jeff was quickly on the bandwagon with the Mizzou connections. The North Carolina crew couldn't let something blast off so close to their backyard without hopping in the mix. Before long there was a healthy list of friends who made the choice to join the impromptu party in this quiet little SC town. Doc Chako on the other side of the country, in. Bammer and Pebbles in Canada, makes perfect sense to drive for 24 hours, party for 24 hours, drive back home through through snow. I know some very twisted folks, wouldn't change a damned thing.

Some even flew to the wrong damned state.

"Hey, I'm at the airport. Where should I be flying?", asked Iggy.

"Greenville, SC", where else would he be going?

"Fuck! My flight is to Greensboro, NC. Is that close?" Nope. These are my friends.

~

"You wanna go see Motley Crue tonight?" Otis asked that afternoon while drinking a little Mexican joint out of SoCo. By the end of the weekend, the Crue would be the most sane thing we did the entire time.

None of this was planned other than maybe a little poker one night. I didn't plan the car bomb rallies or the G-Vegas strangers to become friends or the insanity of racing rickshaws around town or the multiple trips to the strip club. I certainly didn't plan to literally light money on fire as I did with a hundy just to prove I could and would. All I was looking for was a little quality drinking time with a few friends and it turned into a full sick weekend of hedonistic over-indulgence that would be shameful if it were possible for me to feel such a thing.

There are still many things which are fuzzy and some which will never see a public forum aside from my drunk ass sitting on a barstool telling stupid stories. You want to know what the hell we're talking about when you see the #JohnElway tag on twitter, you'll have to see me in person and hope I'm looped. You want to know how I dusted off nearly $2,000 in a strip club to get nothing more than a weak lap dance, bowl of grapes, and stranded? Same deal, I take payment in massive shots.

I will soon make my way south again and I don't think we will see anything like last year. If the same things happened it would be pointless. This year I expect we'll see a new brand of silly behavior because you can't plan for crazy. It just happens. So while I started out trying to explain Mastodon Weekend I soon realized it was impossible. The weekend could turn into a hot mess that no one will want to recall or a nice quiet weekend of friends sitting around a pub for hours spinning tales. Friends sporting various life leaks as well as a solid disregard for social responsibility. Any way you look at it, that's a win.

Hippy Jesus Al Can't Hang rises from the Hellfire Fossils - per Otis



Wednesday night with The Crue



Drunken invasion



Bad form cost me the win, I would get redemption later
Favorite part, when BG yells "Fuckin' Al!"



The Great G-Vegas Richshaw Race of 2009



Dr. Jeff's take on Mastodon Weekend 2009

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2010: Off to a good start

Date: Sat, Jan 16, 2010

Philly 'burbs
January 2010

We're just a few days into the new year and I haven't had much time to really sit down to get my thoughts in writing. It's been a pretty stellar start to 2010 after a 2009 that was my best in a very long time. It will be tough to beat last year but it's doing a fine job trying right off the bat. There have been some minor inconveniences business-wise but they just seem to highlight the good things in the last two weeks. May be I'll even take some time in the future to tell you about them.

I'm in the process of planning my first half travel plans which will once again find me spending time with my good friends in G-Vegas and sitting on the grass watching Spring Training Phillies games. Mardi Gras was a passing idea but I'll make up for missing that by spending a bunch of quality time with the gang down in Key West. Anywhere from a week to a few months depending on how juicy I find the local poker games or how quickly I plow through my bankroll on nekkid girl bull riding prop bets. Texas, Canada, Arizona, and California continue to be on my wishlist. Aim high.

I'm still cruising along with the Full Tilt gig at Poker from the Rail and I have some great things in the works. I plan to tear up the WSOP in my second year better than my first. I will buckle down for two months of intensity to justify my existence in this silly industry before continuing the insanity that is my life. I will extend my personal record for "consecutive years spent in a drunken oblivion". Somewhere along the lines someone thought they wanted to hear whatever stories I had to tell.

I've also begun contributing to Pokerati Dan's new webiste Soccerati. It will be fun talking about one of my favorite sports (1. Baseball 2. Soccer 3. NFL...) especially with the buildup to the 2010 World Cup. We'll see how we deal with balancing the World Cup and World Series of Poker this summer. Dan has managed to wrangle up something like 9 different writers so there will be plenty to read.

Even though 2009 was outstanding, I'm looking to make 2010 crush all others. Luckily I have a fine group around me to come along on this sick journey. I will see you when I hit your little city/town/borough/shanty.

Just point me in the direction of a good dive bar and bottle of booze.

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Dirndl Dirndl Dirndl

Date: Mon, Dec 28, 2009

I think I finally have the new comment system up but still needing a few tweaks, feel free to give it a shot to help a brother out.

The Daily Crutch
December 2009

It's a tough job going through the old archives looking at pictures of scantily clad (or some cases, un-clad) girls in an effort to kickstart my extremely dormant creativity. The first two pictures jumped out at me and I remember that DonkeyPuncher and the BoyGenius were especially enamored with the Dirndl.

Dirndl: a type of traditional dress worn in southern Germany, Liechtenstein and Austria, based on the historical costume of Alpine peasants.

I've posted a few over the years and even picked up a few new ones to update the catalog. Enjoy.

OK, so it's not a dirndl
How 'bout pirate girls?

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The Southern Comfort Files

Date: Thu, Dec 24, 2009

You must forgive the screwed up comment section. Beloved Haloscan has gone away and I'm trying to get the new comment system set up correctly.

The Daily Crutch
December 2009

I'm going through nearly 6 years worth of posted images and will be posting a ton over the holidays. Here's the first go'round.

I know it's completely shocking to the world, but I do enjoy tipping back the occasional Southern Comfort. That generally means plenty of chances to snap pictures of bottles in various states of fullness. Here are just a few of my favorite SoCo pictures from the last six years. (There may be some that are NSFW like this one, those I will link and warn)

The one and only Bradoween since I started the site
Rules for the Al Can't Hang Experience can be found here



Portable shot carrier anyone?



Terri pouring a shot, not usually a big deal, this was the St. Patrick's Day booze massacre
I would be called later this night and invited to the Playboy Mansion
(aka called up to the Big Leagues)



The stash for me and BigMike in St. Martin
The booze lasted about 36 hours



For reference, this is what they mean by "Al-sized shot"



The booze starter kit for Key West in 2007



I thought I imagined this walking down Royal St. during Mardi Gras



Tailgating before the Phillies World Series parade
Kegs SoCo and eggs (with bacon!)



Trying to tilt the players at Gracie and SSP's Poker Dome



Random bartender at the Hooker Bar with yet another empty



I'll always support a place that provides my own stock of SoCo



This was a common theme on my road trip last year
Empty bottles scattered down the east coast



My Key West Darlin' Nikki

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2009 Christmas Present

Date: Thu, Dec 24, 2009

The Great Northeast
December 2009

OK bloggers and readers and random nudie google gawkers, I'm taking a quick break from trying to recount the few Vegas memories I have floating in my head to wish everyone safe and happy holidays. Watch out for the semi-tarded amateurs who will take this time to overindulge. I'm spending the last few days of the year going over my 2009 via pictures and video. I hope to have a 2009 recap video similar to what Pauly puts out each year. This was my first full year as a first class degenerate and a good fucking year it was.

I also found the need to download every single image from the alcanthang.com server looking for some things and realized I have some gems there also. Over the next few days I'll do nothing but post a bunch of old images. That should entertaining. I'm also chopping the holy hell out of the blogroll on the right, don't be offended.

Until then, Pauly put out the December version of Truckin' for a nice Christmas present.

Cheers and see you on the other side.


December 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 12

1. Stiff Santa by Paul McGuire
The Beverly Center had one strict rule -- never under any circumstances remove the bunny head in public. That would mortify young children. Josh turned to Ritalin to solve his problems... More

2. Christmas Money for Misty by Johnny Hughes
Misty laid her best story on Sam, her road story. She was temporarily broke, like most casino folks, but she was to inherit the historic Morgan Ranch, 473 oil wells, 47,000 acres, and a bunch of cows in the Texas panhandle... More

3. The Hobby by Milton Burton
The driver himself was a small-time coke pusher and wannabe heavy metal musician named Ronnie DeLoach who would never make it big, partly because he was void of any real musical talent. But mostly this sad fact could be attributed to his very limited life span... More

4. Dick-Hole, Part II by Bobby Bracelet
Most guys will yank it twenty times a week but they won't feel their balls for lumps. I see it all the time... More

5. Absence of Fear by George Tate
The turns became hard to handle and Gatlin knew it wouldn't take much to be over a guard rail and down the side on his back, load, tractor, and all. He suddenly cleared his mind and focused on the words, "Turn off the engine, that's it."... More

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The Welfare Check

Date: Fri, Dec 18, 2009

Las Vegas
December 2009

(Phone ringing)
(Phone ringing)

"What? I'm zleeeeping?"

"Mr. CantHang? Sir, this is security. We have a call from a friend who is concerned about you. Are you ok sir?"

"What?"

"Sir, are you ok? Someone called and they were concerned for you. We need to do a welfare check to make sure you are ok."

"What? Yeah. I'm fine. Just zleeeeping. Think I drank too much tonight."

"OK sir, we'll cancel the security guard on his way up. But you have someone standing at your door waiting. You should tell them you are ok."

"What?"

"Goodbye sir."

Stupid booze.

I stumbled to the door, still fully clothed from whenever, and saw the good Dr. Pauly through my teeny tiny peep hole. He seemed generally relieved I was alive, I was touched.

I was also still completely fucked up. He came into the room I assume to make sure I hadn't slashed up a hooker or two (Roll me once, shame on you. Roll me twice...) but I think the only incrementing evidence was a fucked up room service pizza and 3/4 of a Heineken.

He said people were worried and people were concerned I was missing in action and people wanted to know where the hell I was. None of this made any sense since it couldn't be that late. His assertion that no one had seen me in 17 hours made no sense. He pieced together Iggy getting me near my floor sometime that morning and it was now very late in the day, even though my body was calling bullshit. The Eagles were still on, see? Turns out they were the late night game that weekend and I was truly way past my due date. My trusty iPhone would tell the truth.

I think I broke it's memory buffer. The lists of missed calls, texts, voicemail was longer than the screen. Damn, this wasn't good. Fuck, imagine if I'd have won that god damned tournament. I did the first sensible thing. Let up a smoke, made my apologies and tried to wrap my head around everything. I kept throwing things at my mental wall and shit just wasn't sticking.

The doc made sure I was alive, handed over his glorious bottle of water, and told me to get my shit together whenever I could. He also asked me the one thing the brought a smile to this pour wretched soul.

"When I go back, should I fuck with everyone and say I couldn't find you?"

These are my friends, the ones who keep me within shouting distance of sane.

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Off we go once again

Date: Tue, Dec 8, 2009

From the ether in between
December 2009

Dropping one last note before jumping on a plane Thursday morning. While you are waiting for 200 bloggers to return with their tales of debauchery, you can still follow along semi-live 140 characters at a time. Several big names (plus my puny self) will be firing off their experiences into the internet airways via their Twitter accounts.

I've listed a few below to follow but the two best ways would probably be Gracie's WPBT follow list or just search for anything with a #WPBT tag.

@AlCantHang
@TaoPauly
@_Otis_
@Iggylicious
@Drizztdj
@JoeSpeaker
@StB08
@Bammer

I got lazy after just 8 links, go use the WPBT follow list and we'll be square.

It won't be long before I'll board USAir flight 435 to Las Vegas (does that sound like a crashing number? Can you hear a broadcaster saying "USAir flight 435 is down somewhere over a desolate flyover state"?) If these are my last words than let's go with

"He just wanted to preform The Procedure one more time."

or

"I'd like to order one large pepperoni pizza...."

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Surviving Las Vegas

Date: Mon, Dec 7, 2009

'burbs of Philly
December 2009

Hells yeah, it's about time to shut this god damn laptop down and head west. Back to Vegas without worrying about covering a poker tournament, playing "dodge the lemur", or tracking down narcissistic players. There is even a possibility that I'll hop on that plane Thursday morning without my trusty computer companion. I spent the weekend working out my liver with the old Boathouse crew, plenty of triple Soco's and late night/morning bed times. I even warmed up some of my worst pick up lines for the occasion. It would be appropriate to feel honored should I use one of them on you.

I still have a shit-ton of stuff to get done for the real jobby bloggy over the next two days. Luckily I have plenty of time to get it done since my sleep schedule has been whittled down to crashing around 4am and waking back up at 7am. I'm beginning to feel damn near the insomnia level of the Good Doctor.

I mentioned in my last post that Pauly generally posts a list of tips for those heading to Vegas for the first time, especially if it's during the yearly donking of the bloggers. I'm glad to see he's not only re-posted the list but has added to it.

First my short little list of Do's and Don't's (how does one properly punctuate that line?):

- DO play Pai Gow at some point. Don't be intimidated, it's a piece of cake. There will likely be a few blogger dominated tables each night.

- DO play craps at the Casino Royale. There's a very good chance I'm going to get wasted at the IP on Thursday night and walk down the block for the game. $5 craps with 100 times odds. Can't be beat on the strip. I started playing the game at the first blogger gathering. "Press it Kenneth!" - BobbyBracelet

- Do play the IP dealer-tainer video roulette if a blogger "game" starts off. Especially if Freddie Mercury is on stage.

- DO drink freely. That doesn't necessarily mean try to keep up with me, but you should enjoy yourself with a cocktail or twelve. An hour.

- DO walk up to any damned blogger you see and introduce yourself. Chances are I'll be in the middle of buying my 1000th round of shots so join right in.

- DO NOT take a picture of Iggy and post it on the internet. That takes away at least two hours of my life just talking him off the ledge.

- DO NOT sleep unless you absolutely have to do it. You'll have plenty of time to sleep when you crawl your hungover ass back to Pennsyl-tucky or whatever flyover state in which you reside.

- DO NOT get rolled by a hooker. Dr. Pauly covers this little bit, but I feel the need to personally restate the obvious. However, if it does happen DO tell everyone about it because it will make for a fine story/blog post.

- DO NOT miss the mix games at the MGM and the subsequent drunken mess at the sportsbook around the corner. This has become one of the best impromptu places to gather and bullshit.

- Finally, DO NOT be offended if your real name slips my memory. I have a long history of alcohol abuse and my brain is sketchy remembering names of those I've known for decades.

Now that I've completed my tiny list, you should go immediately to Pauly and read his tips for Vegas. Print them out, memorize them, live them, love them. They will save your life in the end. And don't forget Tip #34.

Invading Las Vegas Tips Reprise by Dr. Pauly

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Prepare yourself WPBT-style

Date: Tue, Nov 24, 2009

The Great Northeast
November 2009

I am so far behind in posting that I might never catch up. I have the first two days of the Vegas November Nine trip ready to publish but I'm taking a pause for the cause. It's just a few short weeks now until a bunch of nasty degenerates descend upon the Vegas strip to do embarrassing things and make a shameful spectacle of themselves. God damn cowboys in town for the National Finals Rodeo. I think a bunch of poker bloggers will be there also.

It seems hard to believe it was 6 years ago when Dr. Pauly posed the innocent question to a few folks about joining him and Derek for their yearly gamble-palooza in Vegas. What started as a few people rolling westward quickly warped into the first live blogger tournament (with unending help by PokerProf and flipchip) at Sam's Town. Insane fun at the Sherwood Forest bar, Iggy-impersonations, bad gumbo, bruised ribs, stretch Excursions (with death metal, weed, and some huddled bible-belters), Whiplash the Cowboy Monkey, caustic Felicia, signing worthless autographs for the kids, and a Don Swayze/Tony Siragusa siting.

That was just the first night.

There can only be one first time, and I'm pretty damned proud to have gotten on the ride at the start. Some of these random strangers went from "online poker friends" to drinking friends to colleagues. A few I include among my best friends on the planet.

Six years ago I was a hard drinking, happily married, well-positioned company man with nothing but great things lined up in the future. These days the only thing that remains is the hard drinking. And the relentless chain smoking. I would have coughed up toxic Marlboro fumes in your face had you told me in December 2004 I would be here at this point of my life.

I only give one piece of advice for first-timers and veterans alike. Only priority is make sure to have a blast. Don't get caught up trying to meet everybody for the first time, don't forget to enjoy the moment instead of trying to make one happen. Spontaneous Pai Gow session, get your ass in there. You see a long-haired freak lining up twenty people for a shot, get yourself in line and chug away. Find a blogger poker game that weekend, the one time you can drop The Hammer with impunity. And for god's sake if you want to keep up with me have all your permissions slip signed and shots up to date.

Here is my very fluid schedule for that weekend.

Thursday - Arrive in Vegas, at some point I will be knocking back shots at the IP Geisha Bar and wrangling up Pai Gow participants. If I get a bug up my butt I'll venture over to Casino Royale for craps.

Friday - Apparently I'm shooting a round of golf with BWOP, Bammer, and the crew. I'm all paid up but there's only a 5% chance I'm in any condition to make the golf course. Friday night I will be camping out at the MGM Sportsbook bar for a few hours. I will then disappear into the evening towards Green Valley Ranch to catch the Steel Panther. I have no idea who is interested and have no plans to organize anything.

Saturday - After not sleeping for 48 hours, I'll be in perfect shape to play the WPBT tournament at Caesar's. Dead Money walking in the door but I'll have fun with it. The rest of the day will be spent sitting at some random bar/sportsbook/poker table.

Sunday - Football, football, football.

All of that may happen, some, or none at all. I've come to understand the position of my friends who spend so much time working in Vegas, it's so rare to be in town without being "on the clock" and I plan to use this as a good ol' drinking vacation. Lead, follow, or get the fuck out of my way to the bar.

Two other bits of advice from the experts. Otis dropped this classic line on me one year when things slid sideways in a hurry. Raging solo.

Redemption in Raging Solo

In Vegas, one's opportunity for a solo rage is ubiquitous. For as long as he wants or as long as he can stand, he can prop himself up on the shoulders of friends. And when he is ready, he can step out into the dry air, blink at the lights, and start to walk. Where he stops--if he stops--is of little consequence. What matters is that he rages solo. It need not be a trip-long or even night-long event. It can last as long or short as he wants. It can be sober or drunk. It can start at one end of the strip and end at the other or it can start on one side of the street and be only bound by a crosswalk. What matters is the rage. It can cost $1,000 or $1. It just doesn't matter.

Raging solo--define it as you like--is the key. At the end is redemption. And with redemption comes a whole new way of looking at things.

Fine advice.

Finally, the good doctor generally re-posts his "Bloggers Invading Las Vegas Tips". You can find Version 5.0 here but I'll just give you a few of the top to know, #20 is the one I heroically destroyed a few years ago.

20. Don't get rolled by a hooker.
21. Avoid hangovers. Stay drunk.
23. Don't die.

~

The (wrongly titled) Daily Crutch

Simple this time. Five of my favorite pictures from past gatherings. If you'd like a real chuckle search on WPBT on flickr.



The first and only "authorized" picture of the Blogfather from that first night at Sherwood Forest.


When playing low-limit lemur games, buy out all the $1 chips from the cage like Drizz
(photo from Bill Rini)



Otis staring down CJ at the Imperial Palace tournament, Joanada DANK in the middle
(photo from Bill Rini)



Hanging out with The Fat Guy and Poker Prof



Looking over past pictures and this one gave me the biggest surprise,we were playing in the Hard Rock charity tournament.
The always lovely Liv Boeree in the foreground



Otis put together this YouTube clip from past gatherings

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A Little Link Dumping

Date: Mon, Nov 2, 2009

Philly 'burbs
November 2009

Hopefully anyone still reading this near empty space will not realize it took me 4 weeks to complete one monster post which I intended to be one day. Once I began getting it all down in writing I realized there was too much in those 4 short days to waste compressing. Whether anyone else agrees we'll never know. At least I got into the semi-regular pattern of writing here in the personal pages away from the paying gig across the street in poker land. I'm nowhere near to where I used to be and maybe that's for the best.

I finished up dealing with the Key West trip just in time to jump back on a damned plane to head west for Las Vegas. Some little poker tournament will be finishing up with some little poker player who keeps getting compared to Tiger Woods. What no one outside our little niche understands that this trip will have it's equal dose of good times as we only need to worry about 8 bustout hands and then we celebrate with excessive amounts of booze and bad food.

Before I head west again I realize I've been neglecting my linkage responsibilities to various sites and scenes. So consider this a last minute, possibly uber, link dump.

Speaking of uberposts, god damn it. September 13th? Bonus Code Iggy!

~

My favorite picture of the Amazon Room down to 18 Main Even players

I generally separate business and pleasure when it comes to the two blogs but I want to pass these links along since the November Nine is right around the corner. Sitting down in Key West with Spaceman and asked if he would want to contribute to a few posts handicapping the remaining players. He joined in and Riggstad came along and I think it came out well.

Poker from the Rail 2009 World Series of Poker November Nine Part 1
Poker from the Rail 2009 World Series of Poker November Nine Part 2
Poker from the Rail 2009 World Series of Poker November Nine Part 3

I also made a silly prop-bet with fellow Full Tilt blogger Michael Craig this weekend since we were both playing the 43,000 mess known as the FTOPS XIV Warmup tournament. He took time to come up with the terms and I agreed. And then won the last longer bet. Now Mr. Craig is required to play in a 2am Binion's tournament. I think Otis and I are going to go at the same time to see if we can't make this one big clusterfuck. My favorite line from his writeup.

"More important, I should be thinking twice before tangling with this Al character, especially when it comes to crazy prop bets. Al treats dignity like Phil Ivey treats money."

~

Anybody remember that annoying BBT Battle of the Bloggers thing? Yeah, don't get your hopes up. But I wanted to mention that BBT regular "katiemother" had a big score last night finishing 5th in the Sunday Brawl for a cool $28,000. "Covering" these things gets to be a bit tedious when there are 30 some chuckleheads making ridiculous plays and it took me a while to even realize she was deep in the field.

Congrats!

(I'd love to link up but her blog shows as protected from the likes of me)

~

With ESPN ripping through the WSOP Main Event the last month or so it's just a stark reminder to my first full time covering the entire series. I get little glimpses of those who were stuck sitting near me for two full months, I even saw my fat ass walk across the screen a few times. Certainly pretending to work when I was actually looking for someone to hit up the Hooker Bar in the middle of the day. It was something I'll never forget.

The good doctor has been reviewing each episode after airing. They are great recaps and you're probably reading them already, but here are the links on the off chance someone from out of the blue just joined us.

Main Event Day 8, Part 1 on ESPN - Liquidity Crisis, Mucking Winners, and Down to 18
Main Event Day 7 on ESPN - Donkeys in the Rye
Main Event Day 6.5 on ESPN - Four Heavy Hitters, Jaws of Ivey, and AngryJulie
Main Event Day 5.5 and Day 6 on ESPN - Introducing the DonkeyBomber
Main Event Day 5 on ESPN - ElkY and Happy
Main Event Day 4 on ESPN - Bubbles and the World Series of Ivey
Main Event Day 3 on ESPN - Aussies, Ivey, and No Shake for Hellmuth
Main Event Day 2B on ESPN - A Kinder and Quieter Hellmuth and the Always Aloof Ivey Time
Main Event Day 2A on ESPN - The Fossilman and Costanza Show

~

There were three people in the Amazon room on a daily basis who really had to put up with my shit for those two months. Cali Jenn, Mean Gene and Joy Miller (who was my regular Hooker Bar companion). Gene just put a post up on the UB blog with a some of the great shots he took during the series. He was always snapping, editing, correcting pictures while I was fudging with my shitty little point-and-shoot. I figure I owe the UB blog a link back anyway since I'm linked over there, and I have no idea why. They have links to Phil Hellmuth, Annie Duke, Dr. Pauly, Wicked Chops Poker..... and then me. Who knows.

Memories of Things That Just Happened

~

I challenged CK to a Suicide Pool Challenge over on ESPN for shots during the Winter Gathering in Vegas, which is going horribly for me. I'm going to owe a ton of shots. She turned around and has a pool going for the November Nine. You can join up and if you beat me she'll buy you a shot in Vegas this December. You need to get over to the "Can Al Hang? Poker Challenge" and sign up quickly since they start this Saturday. Password is "alcanthang".

On Fantasy Sports Live I was finally able to string a few decent weeks together and qualify for the Tournament of Champions. Each week there are special games called "Sundays' with Dr. Pauly" with money added and such. I'm either really really good or really really bad. Mediocrity is for the weak.



~

Only a month late in posting October's Truckin'

October 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 10

1. The Booth by Paul McGuire
A fidgety Larry had nowhere to blend in as only person sitting in a booth along the wall. The cops had to pass him on their way out and they'd know that he was fucked up. How could they not know... More

2. The Demon of Oscar Braathen's Tavern by Sigge S. Amdal
The baby wants attention and makes a horrible shrieking sound, making the hairs on my back stand up. That's exactly what you'd expect from a demon hovering above a deserted town. It's just doing what demons are supposed to be doing. But it freaks me out nevertheless... More

3. Just Lunch by Betty Underground
We're not strangers, though perhaps we should be; the span between the time when knew each other before and now, is vast. Back then, we didn't even know ourselves, and what we knew about each other was drawn with immature minds. When we first reconnected I'm sure we imagined what we thought the other had become... More

4. Danger Box by Curtis Krumel
In Mexico they have Montezuma's Revenge. In Iraq, the bane of the visitor is Saddam's Revenge. The source of the condition, like that of the Nile, is shrouded in mystery, but the effects are unmistakable.... More

5. Two Memories by Johnny Hughes
I was called in the middle of the night, when I was higher than a hawk's nest, and drunker than Cooter Brown. Joe explained the deal, and he and I both knew Jesse had a handful of warrants out, and unresolved entanglements with Texas laws... More

~

The Daily Crutch

I guess I'm a hypocrite for calling it "daily" but I think you'll like today's selection. I just happened to catch her the ol' TV the other night and recalled that she's had a few looks in her career. Just a few of Linda Cardellini's roles included stints on Freaks and Geeks, ER, and Velman in the Scooby Doo movies. I had too many pictures to chose from but I narrowed it down. A little. It was a tough job. And nothing half-assed, click to embiggen.




Apparently she vamped up Velma just a little, no complaints here



I like her as a blonde, couldn't decide between the two, went with both

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Back to Key West Part 4

Date: Thu, Oct 29, 2009

Key West - Day 4
September 2009

For the second straight day in Key West I hit the sack in mostly decent shape. I bade a fair thee well to my drunk-mates and went back to my zebra room. We made loose plans for breakfast in the morning, promises of french toast with Godiva white chocolate sauce. Passing out was almost instantaneous.

I still can't believe I didn't snap a picture of my room, it was huge, sporting faux zebra skin rugs, and a huge elongated mask type thing that stood at least 4 feet tall. Scary as shit flipping on the light in a drunken fog to see that thing jump out of the dark. You can kind of get a view of it in the pictures here from their website.

I was pulled out of my coma by the trusty cell phone chirping away at me once again, the now common occurrence. It was the SpaceFolk just letting me know they were off on another sightseeing adventures following their breakfast. A breakfast which I once again slept through. A breakfast that saw Jason chow down on the aforementioned french toast. Fucking booze ruins lives, or so I hear. Often. Another morning down the drains but I was up and moving.

While they ran around the island looking at butterflies and 6-toed cats I was spending my birthday getting a little bit of work done. It was a fine lazy afternoon looking forward to the evening. It was our final night in town for this trip and it was still my birthday. When you turn ancient they let you celebrate longer, not knowing how many more of these might come around. We were going to have dinner with my friend Nikki before she had to work and then some respectable drinking.

The decision was made, Bagatelles on Duval Street would be the ones to provide us with our last supper. Nikki and I naturally arrive early to camp out at the bar while the SpaceFolk finish touring the island. It took me all of 5 seconds to read the menu and make my selection. Something called "Honey Fried Lobster Tail" which both Nikki and bartender highly recommended. All the locals have given it a shot.

Temura Battered Seven Ounce Lobster
served with Honey Butter and Wasabi Mash

Lock it up.



I wish I could get a picture to properly show the goodness on the plate

More food piled upon more food with an extra helping of double desert on top. It made for a very fine afternoon sitting around with friends eating great food and casual meandering conversations. It seemed no time had passed before Nikki was begging off to make it to work on time and the remaining three of us slowly crawled back to our little guest house. Not even a professional drinker on his birthday would able to turn around from that feast and jump straight into real world hardcore drinking. A little down time was required.

Before we crawled our way back into the bars, I was able to have one of those moments that you just can't make up. I made a big impression on a large group of people through no other method than being my normal bull in a china shop self.

Our guest house was haunted. That is if you believe in such things or wish to amuse yourself into paying extra money for the mere chance of seeing a disembodied spirit. I was just happy to have a place literally stumbling distance from my favorite bars. Marrero's Guest House Mansion (mansion? really?) even plays up the notion that some chippy is walking around in ghost form, in a town already that believes half the places haunted and New Orleans-like cemeteries. There's even a ghost tour that walks around town showing such places.

Of the 26 rooms in the house, we were the only two rooms being rented that evening. SpaceRachel was waiting patiently on the front porch for us to get our fat asses in gear, sitting quietly on the side swing. Most of the house was completely dark and I'm sure it looked an awful lot like this picture from the ghost tour site. Thinking I was holding up the entire process, I moved quickly down the hallway and burst out onto the front porch in fully-lit-up, loud-obnoxious-Al mode. Burst.

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Back to Key West Part 3 (The Michael Jackson Incident)

Date: Thu, Oct 22, 2009

Seems I have a new reader to the site. Mike g left a comment saying "More poker - less alcoholism!". Well hell son, this space has never been about that much poker, read the tag line. I'm a drunk with a poker problem. Even if I'm talking about poker I most likely am trying to run a casino out of free booze. We now return you to our previous alcoholic story already in progress.

~

Key West - Day 3
September 2009

I managed to get myself in bed nice and early Saturday night. I was forced to ignore the near constant messages from Nikki to get my ass down to the bar because she was bored. That's a dangerous combination for me, bored Nikki generally means I will get myself into all kinds of trouble. For some messed up reason I stayed true and avoided the bar. That night I managed to find the light switch and crash in relative darkness, something special for me.

There was no hiding out on Sunday though, it was the last day/night in town for the Gainesville Posse, we needed to get off our collective asses and turn in a fine drinking effort. There was no time to waste staring at the inside of my eyelids.

First order of business was "morning" mangia and we ended noshing on a nice little brunch that consisted of some fine bacon but also a public bathroom that involved (redacted) and (redacted) plus (redacted) that left Mrs. Spaceman rather out of sorts. I was disappointed I couldn't take them to my favorite spot called Panini Panini (Roast Beef, Muenster, Portobello, Green onion and Horseradish Sauce). Closed for the fall.

Afterwards the couples headed off for some island sightseeing while the 5th wheel, that would be me, made a beeline straight for the bar. It was Sunday afternoon and there were football games that weren't going to watch themselves. Many beers later (Yuengling Lager thank you very much) the boys showed up for their turn in front of the TVs. There is only so much hammock shopping any one man can take before surrendering to the call of booze and the NFL. Luckily for everyone involved I stayed away from the short shots and stuck mainly to beer flavored water.

The girls wanted to see the sunset.

I can't say I blame them, it's a nice way to kick off a night of drinking or continue a day of drinking. In all the times I've been on the island I've seen the sun come up a lot more then it going down. Priorities and all. They beat me to Sunset Pier to squat us a nice spot near the rail for the festivities. I arrived just in time to chug a few rum-soaked cocktails with the gang and the show was on. As captured via iPhone.

Pablo, Gracie, Jason and Rachel prepare for the sunset with tasty beverages



Still trying to figure out why I ever leave this place







Pirates!



Prepare to be boarded, aaarrrr

Isn't that all nice and pretty? It's never easy to pull yourself away from the the pier when it starts like this and everyone is getting nicely lubricated. SpaceRach was jamming along with the talent as they played some funk R&B, we ate ourselves full of fresh seafood, Gracie was documenting it all via her iPhone technologies. But nothing lasts forever, no sense spending their last night in town at one place. Spontaneous pub crawling.

At Reloaded, drinks and shots.

At Irish Kevin's, drinks and shots and some pretty damned entertaining music. The SpaceFolk's first foray into one of the biggest bars on the island. We found ourselves a nice comfy spot at the end of the bar to keep the beers flowing and a good place to watch the crowd. There might have been some sing-a-longs here and there. Jason made friends with the Tennessee native on guitar and after we each dumped a fin in the tip bucket had our own private song request time.

At Teasers, the upscale strip club. No shots or beers. Or lapdances for that matter. We once again walked past the place of legend, the establishment that has taken more of my money than all the poker players combined and even a few well positioned girls of the past.

At Cowboy Bill's, we hit our pace. It was getting close to some mysterious time where I would magically jump forward another year in age. Even Madame Spaceman decided to knock back some shots. Why did no one ever tell me they have a vodka now that tastes exactly like Sweet Tea? I think Mrs. Spaceman's new favorite shot has gone from Soco Lime to chilled Sweet Tea vodka. There was a decent shot she would have finished off a bottle on her own if we hadn't left the bar.

Then Gracie, Pablo and Jason were also lifting shots once the clock ran past midnight along with just about everyone else at the bar. I like to conjugate my drinking. I drink, you drink, he drinks, she drinks, we all drink. Cheers. I soon found the past participle version of the word, "drunk".

"I'll do another shot with you IF we can go get pizza when we're done here" proclaimed Mrs. Spaceman. That would be a great way to end of the evening. Everyone would make it back to their haunted room in decent shape with a belly full of mostly edible pizza. But every good drinking night has a moment when things make that turn from ordinary to silly.

I am willing to spend a lot of my well earned money to keep The Spaceman from posting a certain video.

You see it was like this. The best pizza place open was further up Duval St away from our house. It was right next to one of the popular gay night clubs. I was wearing a shirt that said "Free Range Cock". I was drunk and Michael Jackson was coming out of the speakers. There might have been some dancing and Moon Walking. Did I mention I was drunk?

"No, my Blackberry doesn't take video. I'm just taking a picture" is how the Spaceman bluffed me on the river. I believed him and there now exists a video that I pray never makes it out on the webs. I make a living out of embarrassing myself and this one I knocked out of the park.

Yet another in a long string of birthdays that I'll never forget thanks to friends and their willingness to join me on insanity driven quests.

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Back to Key West Part II

Date: Wed, Oct 14, 2009

Key West - Slow Day 2
September 2009

I neglected to mention in the Day 1 post about the last thing I do remember. Since we were staying in a guest house we were provided with two sets of keys. One to the front door of the house and one to our room. I remember staggering down Fleming Street and up the front steps of the house, but the key wouldn't work. I tried and tried to no avail. Somehow it occurred to me, assuming the ghost of Marrero's called me because all reason had left my body, that I was trying to gain entrance into the wrong residence. A private home, definitely not my resting place.

Thank god they didn't leave their door unlocked or the missus might have gotten herself a little early morning surprise.

I really had no damned idea how badly I had beaten myself up over the last half month until my ass hit the bed sometime that Saturday morning. Two solid weeks working at the Borgata was 100 times worse than the two months at the WSOP plus only a few minutes of sleep from Thursday morning until sunrise Saturday. My ass dropped like a rock the moment I found my actual house/room and didn't wake for many many hours. I awoke to odd sounds in the hallway and every light in my room blazing brightly. Luckily my travel mates were aware enough to let my poor worn out body lie in state, only when it was time to walk towards the sunset and decent food was I lightly nudged from my slumber.

And then the sunset blew donkey balls.

That's some tough shit to do in the Keys but we managed to find the one cloudless, boring sunset in all of Florida. Some brilliant mind in our group made the wise decision to throw up the white flag and beat the crowds to grubbage. Red Fish Blue Fish is located just outside of Mallory Square and they were the beneficiary of our hard earned food monies. Seafood as far as the eye could see with just a little bacon running through my big bowl of pasta. I tried to freak people out on twitter but only caught Katie unawares when I twatted, "Eating fried Dolphin with SpaceFolk and Gainesville Posse". Fresh fried dolphin is fantastic with proper preparation and a little butter.

I'm pretty sure this was Mrs. Spaceman's first of two dozens slabs of Key Lime Pie. By the end of the trip she would be an expert having tasted 99% of the pie on the island. Mayhaps a slight exaggeration.

A belly full of great food and a head satisfied with a dinner with friends, it only seemed natural to walk it all off. Shops and bars as far as the eye can see from that end of Duval Street to our house, plenty of places for the women-folk to be distracted by shiny objects. Saturday night in one of the countries great adult playgrounds, it was time to get down to some serious partying. Drink until the sunrise, pour shots into tiny college girls until their micro-shorts popped off, maybe take home a bartender or two.

What really happened that quiet evening? We pulled up a table on the front porch of our little haunted house and threw chips around with a little low-limit PLO action. It was such a low-key relaxing time, we barely put a dent in the handle of SoCo between Pablo and myself. I dumped the most of any of use when Sweet Sweet Pablo went on a "catchin' quads like it's my job" kind of heater. My phone kept chirping with locals trying to tempt me away from the house into some debauchery but I was having none of it.

Good food, good friends, and good craptastic poker was the order of the day.

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