Super Bowl Monday

I certainly intended to actually post when I set up this blog, but it never materialized. I should be flogged for these past failings...but just not today, for I will blog my way past the wicked hangover that ails me this Super Bowl Monday.

I'm a caddie at East Lake Golf Club...since the club is closed on Mondays (not to mention that it's butt-nuts cold outside), I have the day off. I originally intended to go tee it up at Charlie Yates G.C., the executive course just down the road from my house. But alas, the Stoli-laden Transfusions I was drinking last night have me in less than a sporting mood. Plus, did I mention it's cold outside?!?!

Thus, I have spent my day playing 2-7 Triple Draw over on PokerStars. I have been trying to learn this game in recent weeks as a way to diversify my poker skills and game selection. I started off by reading Daniel Negreanu's chapter in Super System 2 on the matter, then headed over to the play tables at Poker Stars to try out the detailed strategies. So, the other day I decided it was time to make a real-money deposit...only to find out that my deposit options as a U.S. player are limited to epassport, which is seemingly robbing players with their fees. Has it been so long since I've played online poker for any real money? A girlfriend, a job search, and general laziness had stumped me.

I was disappointed that I could allow myself to be so easily derailed from playing a game I genuinely enjoy...I decided then and there that I need to get back to playing more cards.

But goddamn the government for their absurd stance on internet gambling. I don't fully understand the legislation or the likely fallout from it, so I won't even get into all that. I'll leave it to the other poker bloggers who could deal more expertly with the subject matter. Suffice to say that I'm now waiting for my epassport account's verification, which feels like it's taking forever plus a day.

Luckily, the Super Bowl was there to relieve me from my recent doldrums.

Last night, the lady friend and I hosted a small Super Bowl party over at my place. The girlie is a consummate host (that is, until she gets too tipsy...more on that later), and my roommate and his girlfriend helped prepare the basic food offerings. I, of course, was master of the grill, which I fired up with glee. I plumped up some Hebrew National dinner franks and bratwursts, as well as the rat toes my lady friend loves so much. Rat toes are bacon-wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cheese and sour cream, which are then grilled to bubbly perfection. But you should only eat a few, lest your O-ring scream at you the next day.

About 12 people in all were in attendance, and luckily only one was a Bears fan. Having grown up in New Orleans, I'm a big Saints fan...so fuck the Bears, I'm glad they lost. Plus, Peyton's a New Orleans boy and Joseph Addai went to LSU. But I digress. Drink of choice for the evening: Transfusions (vodka, Sprite Zero, grape juice; a truly delectable concoction that goes down like water). During the first quarter, I thought the Colts might get run out of the stadium, but they eventually steadied themselves after the initial Bears' wallop. This made for a very fun evening. I got to watch football, eat food that's awful for my wannabe Men's Health cover figure, drink enough vodka to bathe a small Russian child, and also catch up with some friends I don't hang out with often enough.

After the game, I rewatched the Louis C.K. stand-up special on HBO on Demand. Friggin' hilarious. One of my party guests is a stand-up comedian and will be hosting for Louis C.K. when he comes to Atlanta's Punchline in April. So imagine his surprise when my drunk girlfriend goes off on some diatribe about how stand-up comedians are completely unfunny and are a waste of time...particularly since she was genuinely laughing at about 50% of the dude's routine. My friend just sat there with his sweater pulled over his face, since everyone in the room knew of his comedic aspirations.

Women...I don't understand them, don't particularly care to.

Tonight's agenda is to finish off the remnants of the Zinfandel I stupidly opened last night once the vodka was mysteriously stolen (prime suspect: my own gullet!), plus watch last night's Rome episode that I DVRed. If you're not watching that show, you need to be. Fantastic action.

Until next time, be good to your bankroll....

Hello Gamble-holics!

Hello to anyone reading this late-night, martini-fueled garbage! I've been reading the WPBT posts for quite some time now, and they have inspired me to greatness, or at the very least, blogging mediocrity. Hopefully I'll bring a different perspective, and perhaps some amusing stories. Fuel me with liquor, and I tend to get into some ridiculous situations. Couple that with my typical impulsive ADHD outbursts and my general goofiness, and I hope that I luck upon blogging gold, Jerry, blogging gold! If I am able to adequately transfer my thoughts onto paper, then I'll be satisfied...my only concern is that the writing will be garbage, leaving me unfulfilled like picking up the drunk bar slut at the end of the night.

So...to those who consistently ruin my workplace productivity...I offer this humble blog as sacrifice. I apologize in advance for the parenthetical comments and the inevitable bad-beat stories.

-DirtyDirty-