2010 WSOP: Beer Pong Warmup or New Home?

Date: Mon, May 31, 2010

Las Vegas, NV
May, 2010

I have one major problem with spending so much time in Las Vegas. It's very tough for me to find a bar that fits me, somewhere which feels like a damn bar should. Everything thing here is either in the middle of the casino, a god forsaken dance club, or a sportsbook. Even going to catch a Steel Panther shows feels more "clubby" then a proper rock show. There are still a few hidden gems, including the one bar in Vegas that a lot of us have claimed as our own and is still mostly secreted away from the creetins.

Wednesday I found a place that felt like home.

A few weeks before heading out west I was approached about participating in the Doyle Brunson Beer Pong Invitational to be held a few days before the WSOP kicked off. I'm always up for a little craziness so I immediately threw my name in the pool and looked forward to a little boozy release before the grind. Nevermind I hadn't thrown a ping pong ball at a plastic cup in a decade, booze and friends were a worthy draw.

The tournament was schedule to kickoff sometime after 2pm at Hogs and Heifers downtown. Never one to delay the inevitable, I grabbed a cab and was the first person to enter the bar. Cute bartenders barely dressed in tiny leather bikini tops, beat up bar, HUGE surly bartenders, classic rock. Workable first impressions. My first drink was a Bass instead of jumping straight into the hard stuff since there was no way to know how decent my head would need to be.

Lesson learned from being fucking ripped out of my mind at the blogger tournament in December.

I enlisted Matt "All In At 420" Stout as my partner thinking he likely had more recent experience at the game and had the tolerance beyond most. We drew Hoyt Corkins and Steve "gboro780" Gross in our first match right in the middle of the room. We quickly fell behind 6-1 in cups with them hitting the final cup but Stout saved us with the rebuttal. From there we battled back to get heads up cup-for-cup. We were the team of destiny! That's what we kept telling ourselves. We kept repeating it after we lost and were chugging shots at the bar while the Corkins team moved on.

But now the real fun kicked in. The bar owner, Michelle Dell, was standing on the bar yelling out the action over a bullhorn while we were shooting our match. She seemed to take great join in my CantHang nickname and called it out often. Remember the "Lil" character who owned the bar in Coyote Ugly? That was her, except louder. And cooler. I was already doing shots with the bartender before my match (Jameson, go figure that one) but it was time to get friendly with a bar owner.

I haven't a clue what hell-mouth kind of booze she was knocking back but it looked a combination between whiskey and moonshine. Shot, shot, carbomb, beer, shot, etc. All this was going on during the tournament and the CantHang yell would be heard from atop the bar. My call to pony up for more liquid torture.

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2010 WSOP: Getting Ready

Date: Tue, May 25, 2010

Las Vegas, NV
May 2010

Greetings from the Gold Coast Casino in the desert of Vegas. It's not elegant or spectacular or noteworthy other than a place to distract me from the Rio. It also holds two of my favorite late night Asian eateries and a place which will make me a milkshake exactly when and how I want it. Plus the best Pai Gow action in town. I'm not a hard man to please.

I'll spend the next two months splitting my time between here, the Rio Convention Center, and just about any place which serves a decent shot of booze. If I'm given the chance to prop bet on ridiculous things, that's just a bonus. It's pretty cool sitting here with a few days still sitting between myself and the start of the WSOP. That feeling will quickly change sometime around Saturday when we have the first $1,000 running of the lemurs.

This will be just my second full WSOP I'll be here but I have a good idea of what to expect. It will feel weird with MeanGene as one of my drinking partners this year especially with those Philadelphia Flyers making the NHL Stanley Cup Finals. Last year I watched him just about jump out of skin throughout Penguins run. We do have Spaceman making coming out for the summer so I hope he packed his drinking shoes for those "dinner breaks" with CaliJen and the Miller.

I only have a few days scheduled off between now and the end of July but they should be fun. The US/England World Cup match will find quite a few of us camped out at a sportsbook on June 12th, I plan to invade the Binion's LO8 tournament with CK (and whoever else) to blast away at the drunk-tards, I'll have to take a day off when BigMike and crew make an appearance later in the summer. The rest of the time will be spent sitting on media row or walking the tournament room. It's the glamorous life. There will also be a few WSOP related parties that I'll be attending for purely work-related stories.

CK has been keeping a tab on when various bloggers are coming in town for different events. You should check it out and let her know. I will certainly try to make a little time when I can but you'll understand that work comes first. Feel free to flag me down, yell at me, buy some shots.

The majority of my poker content will be posted up on Poker From the Rail and I plan to write as much as possible the other interesting things which occur but don't necessarily meet the professional constraints of The Man. The camera is charged for a combination of stills and videos, the recorder is ready for those silly conversations which pop up at various bars. Overall I'm pretty well set up mentally, emotionally, physically ready to make my way through the insanity of the WSOP.

We start off the festivies on Wednesday where I somehow made the field in the Doyle Brunson Beer Pong Invitational Tournament. I'm brought in Matt "All In At 420" Stout as my partner which somehow made us the favored team by both Dr. Pauly and the entities at Wicked Chops Poker. I don't see it happening but it should be a fun way to start the summer.

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BigMike - Drinking in Zero Gravity

Date: Mon, May 10, 2010

I'll be participating in the Great Strides event to benefit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation with BigMike on May 15th. I rarely ask anything extraordinary from folks but this is a cause that is near to my heart. BigMike's nephew was born with this horrible disease and there is no cure. Even the smallest amount helps and you can donate on my Great Strides page.

Thank you for everything.

~

I've been avoiding my personal space here like the plague. I get enough questions with my insane ramblings 140 characters at a time on twitter and who knows what the hell I'd come up with given a blank page. It might never stop until my brain exploded all over the laptop or I pass out with head leaning uncomfortably sideways. Either way, it wouldn't be pretty.

I'm also trying to avoid the post where I get to write about BBT5 in all it's fucking twisted ass glory. The bitching, whining, moaning, "why not me" crap is a fun way to remind me I never wanted to run another in the first place. That post is written and ready to go but I'm going to wait until I'm safely planted on a barstool in Vegas and yet another BBT is in the rearview mirror.

Instead I am going to concentrate on the fun shit past and present. Coming up in just a few days I'll be joining BigMike for a Cystic Fibrosis benefit, that brought up some great memories while we were sitting around in the planning stages. I can't believe it's been nearly 6 years since we jumped a plane to St. Martin to spend a week in a ridiculous house with a few friends. That week also produced the one and only Big Mike Guest Post on this site.

Back then I didn't quite have "fuck you" money but it was damned close. We both worked our asses off and overindulged on the few vacation weeks we could find. Over the top was a perfect way to describe it all. Now I have traded my 3 weeks and big ticket vacations for 365 days of vacation and not blowing my head off due to stress. Below is the huge villa we rented to forget about work and drink our faces off, usually get slaughtered all while floating in the monster pool. One of those nights sent BigMike to the edge and he wrote a little something about it.







Enjoy Mike's post.

Drinking and the Benefits of Zero Gravity

It was All Hallows Eve. Traditionally not a good drinking day for me. Though I pride myself on my ability to pull back from the edge of complete oblivion on most occasions, something about the barrier being weaker between this reality and the afterworld makes me push the barriers a little farther, usually with extreme results.

It was day two in paradise. There we were in the pool again (although it felt like STILL). When Al first mentioned the villa of joy, the selling point for me was the Pool. Most fat mammals are happiest in zero gravity and I am no exception. My declared intention for the trip was to do as little as possible out side of the pool. And even though certain elements who Can't Understand No Talking were planning a week of activities, I was determined to get a decent amount of floating time.

Day one had gone very well. Here was the way events unfolded:

3:30 Arrived at Villa
3:35 Tour of Compound
3:50 Into the Pool
3:50:01 The Girls and Louie are off shopping
3:50:02 Into the Southern
5:00 First Bottle gone and tossed in the pool as a floater

5:00 - 6:00 Floating peacefully in the Pool with Al and the empty Southern bottle. Speech is completely unnecessary. Peace at last.

6:05 Our glasses are empty

6:05:01 Al makes the ultimate sacrifice and gets out of the pool and cracks open bottle number two. (Enthusiastic Cheers)

6:15 The women (and Louie) return with food.

6:15:01 Much needless talking ensues

6:20 We are ordered to go to the airport and pick up the rest of our rag tag crew. Of course we agree.

6:25 Our floating friend is discovered

6:25:01 Certain elements that Can't Understand No Talking indicate that we need to go to the airport because we "wasted time in the pool" while "important shopping was done." We again agree.

6:25:10 We are told that we are too drunk to drive. We respond that we have at least 90 minutes to sober up.

6:26 We are told we are too drunk to drive by Certain elements that Can't Understand No Talking. Mrs. Canthang asks if I am all right to drive. I answer "Is it 8:00?" From experience, she withdraws. We cap the bottle of Southern. (Expressions of Regret)

6:50 We are drying out. The silence is gone. The Southern is gone. I start to tease someone about their prior experience on vacation that involved drunkenness and fractured limbs. My head is beginning to clear. I am tearfully rebuked and told never to mention it again. I agree. I agree that making fun of drunken indiscretions would be wrong. I perform the Sacrament of Penance. I Mea Culpa until my chest hurts and agree that it is very wrong to exploit, tease, embarrass, or mention drunken incidents. I sign a non-aggression pact and cede half of Poland (after bombing the French of course).

8:10 The plane supposedly landed 10 minutes ago. We did not see it. (Yes my friends, we could actually see the planes arriving from the pool in the night sky!) Mrs. Canthang performs a sobriety test. I pass and I drag Mr. Canthang and we head to the airport.

8:30 We arrive at the airport
8:45 No sign of our compatriots
9:00 No sign of our compatriots
10:00 Return to consciousness and drive by the terminal
10:00:01 No sign of our compatriots
10:08 Mr. CantHang and the travel weary companions wave me down
10:28 We arrive at the villa
10:30 Back in the pool and the Southern is open
10:45 Buzz returns
11:05 The game of "Barnacle" is invented (Expression of Regret)
11:30 The second bottle is floating empty (Enthusiastic Cheer)
11:55 The third bottle of Southern is open.
1:00 Bedtime on the compound

Day two began where day one left off. I reflected on the negative moments of the previous day. They all involved the following:

1. Being out of the pool
2. Being sober enough to drive

Fortunately, these small matters could be easily remedied. By 2:00 bottle four was opened. By 3:00 bottle four was gone. Much of it in to me. Drinking in zero gravity masked most of the warning signs. You all know them, say them with me: dizziness, stumbling, slurring words, inability to control limbs, etc. In zero gravity, most of these are happily negated. You have nothing left but the buzz. You can surrender yourself completely to the buzz. I found that if I floated on my back, I could completely lose myself in thought and introspection without the annoyance of reality intruding. I spent most of the time floating on my back, doing flips, and basically wondering why we as a species chose to leave the sea. The dolphins were much smarter. It was obvious. Everything was better in the water. If you floated just right on your back, those who Can't Understand No Talking could not be heard. I tried to maintain that position as much as possible. When my head would accidentally come out of the water, I would hear chattering of concern with my wingman saying "He's fine, let him alone." Good man, Mr. Canthang! Eventually, I passed out. When my face went under the water, I woke up and stood up. HUGE mistake! Drinking in zero gravity cannot be stopped mid bender. Everything started spinning. Bad bad bad. Again, Mr. Canthang, in a demonstration of his drinking mastery, had the only thing I wanted at that moment....a garbage bag. I expelled much of the contents of my stomach, but I refused to exit the pool. Lifting my head to regurgitate the complete lack of food was more than enough for me. Fortunately, the pool was shallow enough to let me beach myself and only have to lift my head out of the water. As soon as the vomiting subsided, I would recede back into the water and float. And as soon as I was weightless again, I felt completely fine. My head would occasionally rise up enough to hear comments such as "Drown" and "Die" and "You have to pull him out of there." Again, Mr. Canthang kept them all at a distance. I finally got to the point where I could assist him in his efforts. Every twenty minutes or so he would say, "How are you doing BigMike?" And I would give him a thumbs up and the masses would give him a moment of peace. Occasionally, there would be the insane suggestion that I MUST leave the pool. I would extend a different finger on these occasions. The fact that I could differentiate between fingers seemed to bring comfort to the crowd.

By this time, six to eight hours had passed. Steaks had been promised. My thoughts were no longer a dreamy stream of consciousness. Lists of things to do started to creep in. Soon passwords and pin numbers reappeared. Visions of my family appeared. Steaks were promised. I lifted my head and it was not so bad. A little shaky but not so bad. Suddenly, I heard my wingman saying he would eat my steak. The time for decisive action had arrived. I turned over and asked for my steak. Of course, I ate it in the pool. By the time I was finished, my head was clear as a bell. I tried floating again and looking at the stars. It was nice and peaceful but not nearly the same. I relented and left the pool.

Few moments in my life have been as blissful as that floating inebriation. I vowed to repeat the experience, hoping not to step over the edge. Sadly, the pin number, passwords, to do lists, and those who Can't Understand No Talking prevented a repeat of the experience. I got close a few times, but I always seemed to have something to do that would stop the process before reaching the desired effect. Unfortunately, I am a creature of habit and I was unable to withdraw completely again from polite society for the rest of the week.

And remember kids, Mr. Canthang and I are professionals. Do not try any of the things you read about here yourselves.

P.S. The picture taken of me floating in the pool was violation of the non-aggression pact but I was unaware of it's existence until I returned. Not that it really bothered me. I consider the picture the best souvenir in years. If Stalin were as laid back as me, we would all be speaking German!

Originally posted on November 23rd, 2004

~

Since you are here and already in a reading mood, the next edition of Truckin' is out and I managed to sneak a story in this month. Old drunk guys and Delaware all suck.

Truckin' - May 2010, Vol. 9, Issue 5

1. Uncle Louie by Paul McGuire
He used to be full of life and love and generosity, but no more. These days, he was capable of saying horrendous things that made you feel like you were three inches tall. He had the madness of an angry blind dog... More

2. State Line by AlCantHang
It has never once failed me when I yell "OY!" and look like I'm going to eat your next born. People generally shrink away even though I barely reach 5-foot-nothing. Not once in my life had it failed, that is, until the "old dude" took a fucking swing at my gourd... More

3. If You're Gonna Lose, Lose Big by Broseph
I was starring at their boobs and I got the idea of maybe trying some threesome action. It's a tough bridge to cross, and I had no idea where to start. I decided to just start making out with Gwen and hoped that would work... More

4. American Hero by Dawn Summers
The skies were just this shade of pitch black at nine in the morning. The rain was slamming against my windows. And the wind, oh the wind huffed and puffed and tried to blow my house down... More

5. Self by Drizz
With a "normal" middle-income life that most Americans live grinding out work for the man and making enough scratch to satisfy the needs and wants, there’s hardly time to take a step back and enjoy this existence... More

6. In Between Fighting Souls by Tenzin McGrupp
My quagmire of a life resembles
A wretched Fox sitcom,
A Shakespeare play,
A black and white Woody Allen film.
Except that Joey Buttafucco is the lead actor
And stands forty-five pounds overweight... More

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BBT5 ready to roll

Date: Fri, Apr 16, 2010

Love it or hate it, I don't care. I am far too lazy to re-write a post aimed for my personal blog, here's the post I put up on Poker From the Rail with fellow blogger Dave. Have at it. Also, I was able to bring Mookie himself out of retirement for the banner work.

Many years ago, long before I gave my life to my Full Tilt overlords, a few bloggers were hosting private tournaments on the site throughout the week. "Discussions" amongst the hosts as to whose players were better were not uncommon. We eventually came up with a half-hearted effort to rank the various players and Full Tilt backed us up with some added money to make it interesting. That was the birth of the Battle of the Blogger Tournaments challenge. Just a few years later, the BBT has turned into a monster, now offering bloggers and their readers a shot at over $50,000 in cash and WSOP seats courtesy of Full Tilt.

This weekend we begin the 5th incarnation of the Battle of the Blogger Tournaments challenge. There are several opportunities for bloggers and their readers to win their way into the BBT5 Tournament of Champions, which boasts several WSOP packages. Unlike previous BBT challenges which stretched the sanity, bankroll, and relationship status of our players, this challenge will be easy to play. BBT5 will run for the next six weeks with two blogger-hosted tournaments during the week as well as an invitational tournament series taking place each Sunday featuring some of your favorite bloggers on topics ranging from poker to finance to philosophy.

The Battle of the Blogger 5 Tournament of Champions: May 27

The BBT5 will last six weeks, culminating in a Tournaments of Champions scheduled for Thursday, May 27th. The prizepool for the ToC is impressive: 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers will each receive a $10,000 entry into the 2010 World Series of Poker Main Event as well as room accommodations at the Rio All-Suites Hotel and Casino. 4th and 5th place finishers will receive a $2,000 Bracelet Race package good for many of the preliminary 2010 WSOP events.

To qualify for the Battle of the Blogger 5 Tournament of Champions, you need to be a top player in one of the following tournaments:

Poker from the Rail Series: Mondays at 22:00ET

On April 19th we are introducing our new Poker From the Rail tournament series and everyone is welcome to join us for this deepstack NLHE event with a buyin of $24+2 (or token) starting at 22:00ET. In addition to first place money from the prizepool, the winner will earn an entry into the BBT Tournament of Champions. The Poker From the Rail tournament will run each Monday from April 19th through May 24th.

The Mookie: Wednesdays at 22:00ET

The Mookie tournament is one of the longest running blogger-hosted events on Full Tilt. It's been running so long, in fact, that the original blogger-host has retired and the tournament is now being hosted by the folks at Buddy Dank Radio who have been running a fine game. This tournament, also a deepstack NLHE format, runs each Wednesday at 22:00ET with a $10+1 buyin. Every Mookie winner between April 21st and May 26th will also earn an entry into the BBT Tournament of Champions.

The Invitational: Sundays at 19:00ET

The last ToC qualifying event is the Sunday evening Invitational, 6 events fielded by many of your favorite poker bloggers, players, and media personalities. Full Tilt has invited a lot of old school poker bloggers to battle the younger generation, the mainstream media, and a few surprise celebrities. It's a great chance to rail the writers you've been reading for years while they play for one of the two ToC entries up for grabs in each tournament.

Blogger Battle Royale: Sunday June 6th

After the ToC is one final event: the Blogger Battle Royale, a freeroll thank you to all the participating bloggers. The stakes: a $2,000 WSOP Bracelet Race package and another $2,000 in cash. The Battle Royale is open to any blogger who actively participates in the BBT. Qualifying is simple: put the BBT badge (available at the soon to be created BBT webpage) on your blog and play in a Mookie or Poker from the Rail tournament and you’re in. (Please note: your blog must have been created prior to April 15 to be eligible.)

In order to fulfill the egalitarian promise of the Battle Royale, we’ll also accept good-faith gestures from bloggers who would like to play in the Battle Royale but cannot, for whatever reason, meet the above qualifications. Email my colleague Dave McCarthy at DaveFromTheRail@gmail.com and he’ll take care of your Battle Royale entry in exchange for a little assistance promoting your fellow bloggers.

During each of these tournaments, tune in to Buddy Dank Radio who will be broadcasting during the entire challenge. There will be special guests during each tournament and I will certainly make an appearance on a regular basis, including this Sunday during the first event. It is a great way to enjoy the blogger tournament experience and, who knows -- you might hear something entertaining.

Below you will find details on all the events as well as the BBT5 banners

Tournament: Poker From the Rail
When: Monday, April 19th through May 24th starting at 22:00ET
Game: Deepstack NLHE
Buyin: $24+2 (or token)*
Password: 2010WSOP

Tournament: The Mookie
When: Wednesday, April 21st through May 26th starting at 22:00ET
Game: Deepstack NLHE
Buyin: $10+1*
Password: vegas1

*Winner also receives ToC entry

Tournament: Battle of the Blogger Tournaments Invitational
When: Sunday, April 18th through May 23rd starting at 19:00ET
Game: Deepstack NLHE
Buyin: Restricted freeroll**

**$2,000 Prizepool + 1st and 2nd place receive ToC entry

Tournament: Blogger Battle Royale
When: Sunday, June 6th starting at 14:00ET
Game: Deepstack NLHE
Buyin: Freeroll for BBT participating bloggers

Battle of the Blogger Tournaments banners

BBT5 - Large banner
BBT5 - Medium banner
BBT5 - Small banner
BBT5 - Thumbnail banner

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Precursor to BBT5

Date: Fri, Apr 16, 2010

Nearly 20 years ago I walked into the famous Troc in Chinatown Philly to see an acoustic show that MTV loved and started the "Unplugged" crap. Still pissed I can't find the live version of "The Way It is" but this will do. After that video is the real live version of "Love Song" with a killer opening guitar solo.

The 5:30 portion of "Love Song" is where things went nuts. Acoustic guitar solo then Frank Hannon shreds the same solo after picking up the electric for the only time the entire concert.

Shit went nuts.

Even though we could never seem to work things out
I still love you just the same, I do
I miss your smile and that sparkle in your eyes
You're so beautiful, never change!

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My Tribute to the Boathouse

Date: Tue, Mar 30, 2010

Every drunk needs a home bar. A place that feels just as comfortable as home, sometimes even more so. The bar staff and regulars become just as much part of your family as the real thing. The show Cheers made it a cheesy cliche but it's always nice to have a place where everyone knows you. The Boathouse was that place for me for a very long time. This weekend I received the call, the Boathouse was closing it's doors forever.

The first time my ass hit one of their barstools was in the mid-90's when I was a young'n just getting to the point of realizing I was going to be stuck as a career corporate stiff and this would be my outlet. Sitting in our corner with BigMike and Landow and Lewey and JDub just drinking our way through happy hour into late night. 99% of the time is was uneventful, the other 1% became local legend. I met my future wife (and coincidentally EX-wife) running around the Boathouse like a drunken monkey on crack. The great crew of friends I now call my closest became that way through those shared experiences.

The summer months were spent day after day sitting on the back deck relaxing and usually resulted in anti-social behavior later in the evening. The staff didn't necessarily give us free reign over the place but there were few restrictions placed on us. Need a promotion run, pay me in shots. Need to have a big crowd for a special occasion, pay me in shots. More often than not we were the last patrons sitting at the bar while the staff cleaned up and recovered from the night. There is a huge Friday night crowd and can't get to the bar, no problem. Get the bartenders attention and watch everyone get pissed as they have to pass your drinks back while they still wait.

It was the glory days of tearing through stock shelves of liquor.

True story. The Boathouse thought my honeymoon was only going to be a week long instead of the planned two weeks. When I finally took my usual seat the general manager pulled me into the backroom. Standing there were 12 extra bottles of SoCo because they did not adjust for my missing second week. It was fun having a direct impact on the ordering practices of a drinking establishment.

The Boathouse hosted the sick version of our wedding reception (the second of the day) with 400+ of our closest friends crammed in acting as fools, the perfect setting for what would turn into the yearly party known as The Bash at the Boathouse. Each September we would invite everyone we knew for a night of live music and irresponsible drinking all in the name of various charities. Soon the bloggers were showing up in force adding their touch of craziness with pre-game poker games on the deck. It also was the start of the WPBT and the Vegas December Gathering courtesy of an airport bound casual conversation.

The last big bender happened a few years ago when Gavin showed up for the Peyton Charity poker tournament then proceeded to rip through the room like his head was on fire and the only solution was bottles of booze. We had people passing out in the corner, certain bloggers making unfortunate decisions regarding the female of the species, beer pong tournament, flesh peddling, and the always popular Gavin Smith live band karaoke performance. We'll never forget Running of The Lewey.

Those were just some of the crazy moments. Most of the time it was just a group of people sitting around bullshitting and throwing back drinks. After work, after softball, after lunch. The friends I made are still around and the Boathouse was our common meeting place. Now the doors are closed. In many ways my life is much more simpler now without the daily grind of the corporate monkey world but those were years I would never give up and now a huge part of my old life is no more.

Cheers to Boathouse for all those years of destroying my liver and giving me a place with so many great memories. I hope everyone has the chance to have a bar they can call their own.

~

I owe the place a better tribute but just threw something together quickly to get it done. Below is the important part.

I tried to find some pictures to show a little of what happened over the decade and a half. It was tough to limit it this much but any more than these pictures and the website would never load. I borrowed some from the feeds below and most are from my old Image Gallery that hasn't worked in 3 years.

Enjoy, feel free to email more if you have them.

Gracie's Bash Pictures
F-Train's Bash at the Boathouse 2006
Maudie's Bash at the Boathouse 2006
Falstaff's Bash at the Boathouse 2006

BigMike is not amused by harpies







Carter was a god damn trooper. After sitting in the Borgata poker room for 36 hours he drove to the Philly 'burbs and partied himself into a coma. We never talk about what happened AFTER this picture.



That's a young pre-WSOP bracelet Brian Lemke in the background



Bridget is not that tall, Andrea is not that short











We started running poker tournaments in 2001 and brought in some outside "talent" to help attract players to the game and it worked like a charm







The Brandon Schaefer Invitational Beer Pong Tournament
He can't be that much taller than BadBlood



Terri is the queen of multi-tasking



This all happened after I set up a charity softball game, things got crazy in a hurry and this is the tame picture. The Boathouse asked me to remove those pictures from my site, but now they are out of business so screw it.







I have no idea how I never got busted for running a poker game in a public bar



All Gavin wanted to do was sing Mr. Brightside

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Dead Money = Sir AlCantHang - 2010-03-29

Date: Mon, Mar 29, 2010

God damn, I am slipping. Day 1 and Day 2 have been written for two weeks just sitting in draft status. Drunk boy forgot to hit "publish". Presented again without proof reading.

2010 Mastodon Prelude
Philly 'burbs, March 2010

It's a common theme among most people who attend this spontaneous gathering of degenerates, try to explain the concept to others and halfway through the conversation you just end up shrugging your shoulders to say "You just have to see it to believe it." Even my attempt to write up the explanation turned into a half-assed idea of the concept behind the entire thing. It's not an easy thing to describe how a bunch of people from different walks of life suddenly descend upon a sleepy little village with no more prompting the a quick email at the beginning of the year saying "how does March XX sound for a visit?".

Early in the year I was chatting with Katie when the plans were starting to form up and I was answering questions again. It's really nothing like when the bloggers invade Las Vegas as there's very little in the way of solid planning and it's just a relatively small gathering of friends who would primarily attempt to get themselves faced in every fashion possible. The only time frame we had to go by was the 2am last call inside G-Vegas. Somehow my stories didn't scare her away from the unabashed Bacchanalia.

We through together a loose itinerary, she likes to drive plus it would save me from getting into the G-Vegas train station at 4am. It had been awhile since I just hopped in a car for a decent road trip and this seemed like a good time to get one in. Drive down, tear up the town, drive back, hopefully survive to tell the tales. The days rolled by until it was about time to load up the bags.

In the end it turned out to be everything I expected and nothing I expected. I realize that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever but I just tell it like I see it. Before I move onto the Day 1 recap you should go read four of my favorite writeups done so far. No offense intended to others but Otis and Pauly get top billing.

2010 Mastodon Weekend - by Otis
Mastodon Weekend deconstructed - by Otis
All Things Reconsidered - Mastodon Weekend - by Dr. Pauly
The Mastodon Chronicles - by Dr. Pauly

2010 Mastodon Weekend Day 1
Maryland, March 2010

"I probably shouldn't be doing 95 right now" - Katie

It was raining at 2am and we'd only been on the road for an hour, according to the gods of Mapquest there were 7 and a half hours ahead of us and the miles were clicking off at a steady pace. Everyone learned in Vegas that Katie is a damned trooper but the travel itinerary seemed to stress the boundaries of sanity but I put my faith in her abilities. Class til 8pm, short nap, then in the car and on the road to G-Vegas in time for her the early bird chirping. That meant piling into the Super Beetle at 1am and tearing up some pavement.

In no time we are loading up somewhere south of Richmond, VA. The rocket with fuel and me with Red Bull (48oz worth?). I consider myself to be a decent second-seater and I wanted to make sure I was wide awake to provide whatever distractions necessary to keep my pilot alert. Perhaps my biggest mistake of the trip, she didn't need my help and I was wired for the next 48 hours.

The miles ripped under us with just a few minor problems like morning "rush hour" traffic around Charlotte, NC and a little un-plowed snow. That is one shit kicking town that can't handle it's snow. In no time we were across the border into South Carolina driving by the magic water tower done up to look exactly like a peach. Or a peach colored ass-crack depending on your perceptive. A well known sign G-Vegas is just a few short miles down the road.

Soon we were pulling into the nice quiet town about to explode. I like to consider myself a pretty decent traveler. I pack light, always prepared, generally have a good game plan set up. Knowing we were going to be getting into town a lot earlier then standard check-in time I called ahead and was assured the hotel would have a room ready when we got there after the long drive for the night. Sure as shit that didn't happen. I gave the poor lady at the front desk my number and we took a seat in the lounge. Potentially a long wait and I decided that just wasn't going to do. Have phone and have money, no sense sitting around drinking $20 Mimosas while stewing.

I called every hotel within walking distance trying to find any place that would let us check in immediately. I hit the bingo on my third call but all they had available at the moment was an "executive suite". He quoted the price and I almost snap called it, never mind it was going to cost the same as the four nights at the Westin and would only be used for a few hours to crash. It was a huge corner suite overlooking the Reedy River and more room then we would ever need. Katie passed right out and I was stuck staring at the ceiling courtesy of my Red Bull miscalculation. Just as I was fading out my phone chirped.

"Mr. CantHang, this is (shrew harpie) from the Westin. We just wanted to let you know your room is ready for checkin."

Fuck me. I thanked her and said I would see her much much later.

The rest of Day 1 was a blur of beer, sushi, shots and badly played poker. We figured it was damn close to 24 hours since the last meal and took it out on the local sushi establishment. I'm not ashamed to admit that I over-ordered, over-ate, and made a fine pig of myself. No idea when my next real meal would come along so I took the opportunity to pile in the food. Plus there was some open night drinking to get through which rarely goes well in my favor.

It was off to the Mastodon Weekend base called Connolly's Pub, the place of memories and many things which should be forgotten. I was greeted by the bartender with a very friendly "Hey, Soco!" Seems I had a lasting impression I was last in Connolly's over a year before. It was a nice calm evening of sitting around with Katie, Otis, and Tim with too many shots and impossible prop bets via Otis. Shit that was just impossible to know. I challenged him back with something simple, what was I texting to BadBlood at that very moment while I was constantly ragging him for not coming out.

"We're going to Platinum." Fucker, pay him his money.



I'm already shipping money around the greater G-Vegas area and the real gambling hadn't even really started. Since I was running so well why shouldn't we all hop in a car for a local poker game when I was on the fast train to Fuckedupville. This would be the beginning of a string of really bad decisions.

The Mark brings out a handle of Soco and I decide poker is a bad idea, considering my ATM card went missing somewhere along the way. Let Katie and Otis ram and jam the pots, they were the players who should be playing. This worked for about an orbit before I said to Otis, "put me in". I ran my little stake up quickly and then played my single worst hand of poker ever. It was really that bad.

The next morning I woke up with my entire world turned upside down and it only had a little to do with shipping a $1,200 pot holding air and finding myself without cash or plastic. Day 1 went down as something that should never be repeated.

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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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