Thursday, February 24, 2005
7 Minutes in Hell
A few weeks ago someone posed this question to me: 30 is the over/under on many more wins the Twins will have than the Brewers, what would you take? I thought about it and to my surprise I took the under. Hey, The Crew have a fighting chance to play .500 baseball this year, espescially if they manage not to get rid of Sheets and Lee hits about 35-40 dingers.
Alright, unless I get drunk and do something unprotected later this semester, the 7 minutes I'm about to describe to you are the front runner for worst of this academic session:
I'm playing three $.50/$1 No Limit Hold 'Em Ring Game Tables.
The following three hands happen in the span of 7 minutes (it's an approximation, I may have lost time for a bit, ala Ed Norton in Primal Fear.)
I'm holding K2 suited one off the button, I call the big blind, hoping to get a flush draw, and the flop comes A-2-2. Alright, I'll take trip dueces. I play the hand not passively, but not real aggressively either. After the turn it's me and one other dude who calls my flop and turn bets, then raises me on the river. There are no flush draws, and the only straight he could have hit is if he had 3-4. I call his raise and he turns over AA. Great, I'm killed. I had a one outer the whole way. Lose a bundle.
Next table. I'm holding 10-7 in the big blind. No pre-flop raisers. Flop comes 5-10-7. I bet out, one dude calls. Turn is a 5. I bet, he calls. River is a 5. I made a full house, I bet, he raises, I call and say fuck at the same time and he turns over pocket Queens, which he played painfully slow. Lose a bundle.
I'm left with 12 bucks at this table and before I can get more chips, I pick up pocket Q's, the same ones that just killed me. Ironic, isn't it? I double up with those and then pick up pocket Aces on the very next hand. The flop comes K-A-10, rainbow. I'm feeling pretty good about this. I only doubled the big blind in my pre-flop raise, I know, a suspicious raise, but the table was playing very odd. Only one caller. I bet about 40% of the pot on the flop. He calls. I bet again after the turn, he calls. I'm guessing he might have two pair, or an inside straight draw. River comes, he goes all-in, I call, not having a lot left anyway, and he turns over QJ -- he flopped a straight.
So with those three losses in 7 seven minutes I lost $115.
Now, may I not do anything unprotected from here on out and I will be alright.
I watched the UWEC girls lose in OT to the number 1 seed in their second round playoff game last night. It was an excellent game with some shotty officiating, but the girls played hard and nearly pulled off an upset. Just a bunch of careers ending in 5 point OT losses for Blugold Basketball Players this year: Will, Jesse, Dan, Casey, Katie, Jo, Dickey, Emilee, Becca, all of whom have been spotted doing drunk shit at the 213.
Tonight I'm heading to Duluth to see my sister and watch Jesse's brother play. Hopefully there will be time to grab a bite to eat before the game.
Tomorrow I'm heading to Oregon, WI, to watch Jesse's other brother play, he's a senior in HS there.
Four games. Four different gyms. All on the road. Trips of 3 hours 30 minutes, 25 minutes, 3 hours, and 3 hours.
It's fun.
Yes, that means no OC bitching before the episode airs tonight, and that also means we're going to have to borrow someones tape. Volunteer lenders please apply within.
Play on.
Alright, unless I get drunk and do something unprotected later this semester, the 7 minutes I'm about to describe to you are the front runner for worst of this academic session:
I'm playing three $.50/$1 No Limit Hold 'Em Ring Game Tables.
The following three hands happen in the span of 7 minutes (it's an approximation, I may have lost time for a bit, ala Ed Norton in Primal Fear.)
I'm holding K2 suited one off the button, I call the big blind, hoping to get a flush draw, and the flop comes A-2-2. Alright, I'll take trip dueces. I play the hand not passively, but not real aggressively either. After the turn it's me and one other dude who calls my flop and turn bets, then raises me on the river. There are no flush draws, and the only straight he could have hit is if he had 3-4. I call his raise and he turns over AA. Great, I'm killed. I had a one outer the whole way. Lose a bundle.
Next table. I'm holding 10-7 in the big blind. No pre-flop raisers. Flop comes 5-10-7. I bet out, one dude calls. Turn is a 5. I bet, he calls. River is a 5. I made a full house, I bet, he raises, I call and say fuck at the same time and he turns over pocket Queens, which he played painfully slow. Lose a bundle.
I'm left with 12 bucks at this table and before I can get more chips, I pick up pocket Q's, the same ones that just killed me. Ironic, isn't it? I double up with those and then pick up pocket Aces on the very next hand. The flop comes K-A-10, rainbow. I'm feeling pretty good about this. I only doubled the big blind in my pre-flop raise, I know, a suspicious raise, but the table was playing very odd. Only one caller. I bet about 40% of the pot on the flop. He calls. I bet again after the turn, he calls. I'm guessing he might have two pair, or an inside straight draw. River comes, he goes all-in, I call, not having a lot left anyway, and he turns over QJ -- he flopped a straight.
So with those three losses in 7 seven minutes I lost $115.
Now, may I not do anything unprotected from here on out and I will be alright.
I watched the UWEC girls lose in OT to the number 1 seed in their second round playoff game last night. It was an excellent game with some shotty officiating, but the girls played hard and nearly pulled off an upset. Just a bunch of careers ending in 5 point OT losses for Blugold Basketball Players this year: Will, Jesse, Dan, Casey, Katie, Jo, Dickey, Emilee, Becca, all of whom have been spotted doing drunk shit at the 213.
Tonight I'm heading to Duluth to see my sister and watch Jesse's brother play. Hopefully there will be time to grab a bite to eat before the game.
Tomorrow I'm heading to Oregon, WI, to watch Jesse's other brother play, he's a senior in HS there.
Four games. Four different gyms. All on the road. Trips of 3 hours 30 minutes, 25 minutes, 3 hours, and 3 hours.
It's fun.
Yes, that means no OC bitching before the episode airs tonight, and that also means we're going to have to borrow someones tape. Volunteer lenders please apply within.
Play on.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
An Ending and a Beginning
I just got back from UW-Oshkosh for the roommates' first round game of the conference tournament. They are the 6 seed, UWO is the 3. The game went to OT and EC came up short, ending both of my roommates' basketball careers. A season recap will come soon. They will get their due.
On to Baseball:
Nothing makes me feel better than the start of spring training.
As a die-hard fan, it gives me 6 weeks to learn about the new players and appreciate the ones who are gone.
For the next 6 weeks I'll be constantly juggling possible line-ups in my head. What happens if this guy gets hurt or sucks, who will go there, but then what happens at this position? These questions will spin the wheels of my head for the next 6 weeks. And I love it.
I love baseball, I love Spring Training, I love the Twins.
Good News: Joe Mauer went through a basically full work out and says he is feeling "pretty good."
Bad News: Justin Morneau had a shitty offseason, being afflicted with three illnesses: chicken pox, appendicitis, and a lung infection that lead to pneumonia... and he is still ill.
Good News: Luis Rivas is in camp early.
Bad News: Coming to camp early won't boost your average 40 points.
I can't wait for Opening Day.
Until Tomorrow
On to Baseball:
Nothing makes me feel better than the start of spring training.
As a die-hard fan, it gives me 6 weeks to learn about the new players and appreciate the ones who are gone.
For the next 6 weeks I'll be constantly juggling possible line-ups in my head. What happens if this guy gets hurt or sucks, who will go there, but then what happens at this position? These questions will spin the wheels of my head for the next 6 weeks. And I love it.
I love baseball, I love Spring Training, I love the Twins.
Good News: Joe Mauer went through a basically full work out and says he is feeling "pretty good."
Bad News: Justin Morneau had a shitty offseason, being afflicted with three illnesses: chicken pox, appendicitis, and a lung infection that lead to pneumonia... and he is still ill.
Good News: Luis Rivas is in camp early.
Bad News: Coming to camp early won't boost your average 40 points.
I can't wait for Opening Day.
Until Tomorrow
Forget The Forgotten
Does anyone hate Drew Barrymore as an actress more than I do? Probably not. It's her 30th birthday today.
I watched The Forgotten last night. Terrible movie. Julianne Moore is Julianne Moore, she's always good, but the movie blows. The worst part was when the producers, writer, and director tried to make it sound great on the "Making of" featurettes. You think it's going to go some place for the first half, then all of sudden they throw in this alien plot line where people are getting sucked into the sky. And Dominic West trying to look pissed off and coordinated while threatening a guy a fireplace poker was comedy, and he was playing an ex-NHL player (of course all NHL players are ex-NHL players now). There are forced scenes where you can tell the writer really wanted to do a specific thing with his character so he created some unbelievable, flimsy dialogue to get that character where he wanted. It was forced. It's just your typical Hollywood piece of shit made for the braindead.
I'm splitting for UWO at 2 or 3 today for the roommates' 1st game of the conference tournament. Hopefully there will be a second one.
Until Then.
I watched The Forgotten last night. Terrible movie. Julianne Moore is Julianne Moore, she's always good, but the movie blows. The worst part was when the producers, writer, and director tried to make it sound great on the "Making of" featurettes. You think it's going to go some place for the first half, then all of sudden they throw in this alien plot line where people are getting sucked into the sky. And Dominic West trying to look pissed off and coordinated while threatening a guy a fireplace poker was comedy, and he was playing an ex-NHL player (of course all NHL players are ex-NHL players now). There are forced scenes where you can tell the writer really wanted to do a specific thing with his character so he created some unbelievable, flimsy dialogue to get that character where he wanted. It was forced. It's just your typical Hollywood piece of shit made for the braindead.
I'm splitting for UWO at 2 or 3 today for the roommates' 1st game of the conference tournament. Hopefully there will be a second one.
Until Then.
Monday, February 21, 2005
The Good Doctor
In a previous post, a drunken one, I wrote that Adam and I were trying to harmonize on the song Dick Lips, by Blink-182, and I was re-reading that today and I thought to myself, "There are no harmonies on that song. So I went back and gave it a listen, sure enough, no harmonies. That explains a lot.
Hunter S. Thompson. I can't say anything that hasn't already been written somewhere more popular, but I wish I have read more of his stuff. It's definitely on the list. Last night I read some of his ESPN.com Page2 articles that I hadn't read before. That dude had an interesting mind. And Fear and Loathing speaks for itself. You always have to ask and wonder, "Why?" after a suicide, but with Thompson, doesn't it kind of make sense in a skewed sort of way? Maybe that's insensitive and warped, but that was my initial reaction.
Loath On.
Hunter S. Thompson. I can't say anything that hasn't already been written somewhere more popular, but I wish I have read more of his stuff. It's definitely on the list. Last night I read some of his ESPN.com Page2 articles that I hadn't read before. That dude had an interesting mind. And Fear and Loathing speaks for itself. You always have to ask and wonder, "Why?" after a suicide, but with Thompson, doesn't it kind of make sense in a skewed sort of way? Maybe that's insensitive and warped, but that was my initial reaction.
Loath On.
"You Play Ball Like A Girl 2"
Well I'm nervous for this one. The Sandlot sequel, due to come out on April 22nd, is probably going to be a DTV (direct to video) effort.
Writer/Director David M. Evans, also writer/director of the original, is fucking with a classic here and I hope he doesn't spoil its reputation.
I don't want to have to say, "The Sandlot is great, but then there's the sequel...," much like you have to now with The NeverEnding story series. The first was great, the follow-ups, not so much.
It is encouraging that James Earl Jones is back, whose character I guess must be about 105 years old, at least. He is surely one of my favorite actors of all time and I'll look forward to seeing anything he's in, but this one will be judged in a different light.
There are rules to making sequels. You can't make the same movie but just with different characters or a different scenario. There are a plethora of sequels coming out this year, including Mad Max 4, Be Cool, Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day, XXX: State of the Union, Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, and looking forward to 2006 and 2007, we have Die Hard 4.0 and The Bourne Ultimatum coming our way.
I'm not a huge sequel fan. They are very difficult to pull off. I think Ocean's 12 did a good job because it didn't take itself too seriously. The Bourne Supremacy was a decent sequel as well, but in making a sequel, you are pretty much running up a steep hill loaded with land mines, blindfolded, wearing shackles around your ankles and the wind in your face while pissing and spitting at the same time.
There are some movies, however, that I would like to see a sequel to; Rounders, for instance, would make any interesting sequel. How does Mike do in Vegas, How and When does Worm show up there to fuck things up, How does the explosion of poker's popularity affect Mike? It could be good and well done, but I'm afraid that, after viewing Tilt, the writers would cheese it up far too much and write what they think people want to see and not write what would actually be a good, believable, do-proper-justice-to-the-original sequel.
Touchy business. I really hope The Sandlot 2 doesn't suck completely.
Until Later.
Writer/Director David M. Evans, also writer/director of the original, is fucking with a classic here and I hope he doesn't spoil its reputation.
I don't want to have to say, "The Sandlot is great, but then there's the sequel...," much like you have to now with The NeverEnding story series. The first was great, the follow-ups, not so much.
It is encouraging that James Earl Jones is back, whose character I guess must be about 105 years old, at least. He is surely one of my favorite actors of all time and I'll look forward to seeing anything he's in, but this one will be judged in a different light.
There are rules to making sequels. You can't make the same movie but just with different characters or a different scenario. There are a plethora of sequels coming out this year, including Mad Max 4, Be Cool, Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day, XXX: State of the Union, Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, and looking forward to 2006 and 2007, we have Die Hard 4.0 and The Bourne Ultimatum coming our way.
I'm not a huge sequel fan. They are very difficult to pull off. I think Ocean's 12 did a good job because it didn't take itself too seriously. The Bourne Supremacy was a decent sequel as well, but in making a sequel, you are pretty much running up a steep hill loaded with land mines, blindfolded, wearing shackles around your ankles and the wind in your face while pissing and spitting at the same time.
There are some movies, however, that I would like to see a sequel to; Rounders, for instance, would make any interesting sequel. How does Mike do in Vegas, How and When does Worm show up there to fuck things up, How does the explosion of poker's popularity affect Mike? It could be good and well done, but I'm afraid that, after viewing Tilt, the writers would cheese it up far too much and write what they think people want to see and not write what would actually be a good, believable, do-proper-justice-to-the-original sequel.
Touchy business. I really hope The Sandlot 2 doesn't suck completely.
Until Later.
Thurman, pop out of that squat and get the ball to second...
Here's your new group of baseball lovers, check out Thurman Murmon on the right, "Goodnight Mrs. Santa's Sister."
Kids, I'm not your father...
Late Night Poker at the 213
It is 2:41 a.m. and I am unable to sleep.
I got up to write the boys an e-mail and decided to play some poker.
I sit down at a .05/.10 NL table and pick up pocket kings on the first hand and promptly lose 4.50 when some dude, who was all-in after the flop, hits his ace on the river. Sign of good things to come.
I'm just adding on to an already pretty full day of poker. I played a 10 dollar buy-in tournament this afternoon with Jesse and Adam, in which I placed 19th, good for a whopping 16.20. I won about 7-8 bucks playing a ring game at the same time. That was a good four-five hours that I could have spent on some studies.
It's amazing how elusive homework can be.
Alright, I'm down seven bucks now and am clearly not giving a shit enough to play well right now. I gotta get off the tables and hit the fucking sack.
More Later.
I got up to write the boys an e-mail and decided to play some poker.
I sit down at a .05/.10 NL table and pick up pocket kings on the first hand and promptly lose 4.50 when some dude, who was all-in after the flop, hits his ace on the river. Sign of good things to come.
I'm just adding on to an already pretty full day of poker. I played a 10 dollar buy-in tournament this afternoon with Jesse and Adam, in which I placed 19th, good for a whopping 16.20. I won about 7-8 bucks playing a ring game at the same time. That was a good four-five hours that I could have spent on some studies.
It's amazing how elusive homework can be.
Alright, I'm down seven bucks now and am clearly not giving a shit enough to play well right now. I gotta get off the tables and hit the fucking sack.
More Later.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Broken Down, Not Broken Up
If my middle name weren't Scott already, it would probably be Procrastination, with Lazy and Apathetic coming in a close second and third, respectively.
So Blink-182 did not break up. Dave Navarro ammended his statement in his blog today and added an apology to the band and to the fans.
A funny thing happened on my way to River Falls to check out the roommates' basketball game. I am about 15 minutes out of town, cruising west at a comfortable 75 mph when my car decides it needs a rest and kills on me. I calmly announce to my two passengers, Abby and Bula, that my car shut off. I slow, turn the right blinker on, and pull onto the shoulder.
My car has a history of shutting off whenever it feels like it, and usually it starts up right away and I am able to go on my merry way, but not this time. I tried to start it a couple of times, but with fear of flooding it, I quit. I accepted the fact that I would need to wait 10 minutes or so and it would be fine. My riders along thought it was funny how calm I was being about the incident, but it is easy to remain unaffected by the stall when such circumstances have been a regular occurance in my five and a half years of driving.
In high school I drove a dull silver 1988 Pontiac 6000, which I dubbed "The 6K." The 6K died about a year and a half ago at 227,000 miles, but before it did it provided me with plenty of opportunities to push it through busy intersections or wait on the side of the road for an unpredictable period of time. Shortly after The 6K burned its last drop of fuel, I purchased a 1989 Oldsmobile Cutless Sierra. The car has just 90,000 miles on it, gastly unexperienced in comparison to The 6k. The Olds has treated me well, except for its habitual killing and an odd chugging like action that happens sometimes in mid-drive.
So, we're sitting on the side of the road and I pull out my phone to call Adam, who is heading toward River Falls on the same highway but from the other direction. His first words to me are, "Dude, bad news."
And I'm thinking, "Yeah, no shit." He proceeds to tell me that one of his tires went flat and they were on the side of the road trying to change it, which I assure you must have been a scene in itself. After he tells me this, we have this exchange:
Me: Dude, you're on the side of the road?
ASJ: Yeah, man.
Me: I'm on the side of the road too, car killed.
ASJ: You're on the side of the road? And I'm on the side of the road? Oh my god...
(Laughter)
It was funny, really funny. My brother and father agreed.
So a few minutes later I fired it up, gunned the gas, and away we went and had no more trouble the rest of the way.
Just one of life's little stories.
The game went well, EC won in entertaining fashion. More after Tuesday, when Adam and I will be following the team to UW-Oshkosh, about 3 and a half hours away. Yep, I'll drive that far to watch D-3 basketball. I'd drive 10 hours to support and watch some friends play though, but probably not 11 hours, that's pretty far.
I will delve into a disparaging analysis of The OC before Thursday's episode. But for now, either the pillow or the studies call. I'm not sure which one will prevail but if you will guide your eyes back to the top of this entry, you should be able to figure out the answer for yourself.
Until Next Time.
So Blink-182 did not break up. Dave Navarro ammended his statement in his blog today and added an apology to the band and to the fans.
A funny thing happened on my way to River Falls to check out the roommates' basketball game. I am about 15 minutes out of town, cruising west at a comfortable 75 mph when my car decides it needs a rest and kills on me. I calmly announce to my two passengers, Abby and Bula, that my car shut off. I slow, turn the right blinker on, and pull onto the shoulder.
My car has a history of shutting off whenever it feels like it, and usually it starts up right away and I am able to go on my merry way, but not this time. I tried to start it a couple of times, but with fear of flooding it, I quit. I accepted the fact that I would need to wait 10 minutes or so and it would be fine. My riders along thought it was funny how calm I was being about the incident, but it is easy to remain unaffected by the stall when such circumstances have been a regular occurance in my five and a half years of driving.
In high school I drove a dull silver 1988 Pontiac 6000, which I dubbed "The 6K." The 6K died about a year and a half ago at 227,000 miles, but before it did it provided me with plenty of opportunities to push it through busy intersections or wait on the side of the road for an unpredictable period of time. Shortly after The 6K burned its last drop of fuel, I purchased a 1989 Oldsmobile Cutless Sierra. The car has just 90,000 miles on it, gastly unexperienced in comparison to The 6k. The Olds has treated me well, except for its habitual killing and an odd chugging like action that happens sometimes in mid-drive.
So, we're sitting on the side of the road and I pull out my phone to call Adam, who is heading toward River Falls on the same highway but from the other direction. His first words to me are, "Dude, bad news."
And I'm thinking, "Yeah, no shit." He proceeds to tell me that one of his tires went flat and they were on the side of the road trying to change it, which I assure you must have been a scene in itself. After he tells me this, we have this exchange:
Me: Dude, you're on the side of the road?
ASJ: Yeah, man.
Me: I'm on the side of the road too, car killed.
ASJ: You're on the side of the road? And I'm on the side of the road? Oh my god...
(Laughter)
It was funny, really funny. My brother and father agreed.
So a few minutes later I fired it up, gunned the gas, and away we went and had no more trouble the rest of the way.
Just one of life's little stories.
The game went well, EC won in entertaining fashion. More after Tuesday, when Adam and I will be following the team to UW-Oshkosh, about 3 and a half hours away. Yep, I'll drive that far to watch D-3 basketball. I'd drive 10 hours to support and watch some friends play though, but probably not 11 hours, that's pretty far.
I will delve into a disparaging analysis of The OC before Thursday's episode. But for now, either the pillow or the studies call. I'm not sure which one will prevail but if you will guide your eyes back to the top of this entry, you should be able to figure out the answer for yourself.
Until Next Time.
Up Before the Rooster
This is my first blog post with booze in the veins.
This is also the first time in a long time that I'm playing poker online after drinking.
Combining the two at 4 a.m. should produce great things.
Jesse and I both just lost connection to Poker Pages. Disaster.
I have an all Blink-182 playlist going on right now in their memory after their apparent break-up. (see Dave Navarro's blog)
Adam and I are trying to harmonize on Dick Lips off the Dude Ranch album. I know I'm not carrying my weight.
Adam and I are planning on pulling a Damon/Affleck and winning an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. I get to be Damon.
I could give a graduate course on how to turn off and push away girls. Adam will be delivering key note speeches bi-weekly followed by a seminar on home wrecking by Will.
I just clapped for myself after writing that.
So Adam and I were standing on the front porch of the 213 and I was beginning to discuss how the Blink-182 break up hasn't really hit me yet. The glue that Blink-182 has been between four friends should be known to the readers. I have been threatened with exile from a bar for standing on a stool singing Blink. I need to get booted from a bar sometime. Anyway, Adam was saying how the Sammy Sosa trade hasn't really sunk in with him either. Then I said, "Tell me what you think about this..." And Adam interrupted and said, "What? Sammy and Blink are putting out a new album?"
I was bent over for the next few minutes laughing my ass off trying to imagine broken ass English being sung over some power chords.
(Pause for giggling.)
ericsch20: i'm fucke dup so
ericsch20: i oolove you, buti got to sleep
That is from my friend Eric. He's drunk and after a day of working at a high school dance competition probably inflicted with a mad case of blue balls.
He's not gay.
Well sometimes.
Wait, maybe not. This is his away message right now: "bboiebies#!!!!!!!"
Adam and I are fighting over keyboard control and I'm winning 'cause why the fuck wouldn't I?
Farnsworth is in Detroit throwing 100 mph. Abby might move there.
Mauer and Morneau will combine for 65 homers this year. Mark it down, Dude.
Rivas hitting .250... Would you take the over or the under? Give me the under.
Look for the 213 Connection to take over ESPN the summer of 2006(first words ever uttered on Deetsblog by A.S.J.)
I just pulled a deck of cards out of my jacket pocket. I don't know why they were there, but I like the fact that they were.
Adam and I just turned on Kelly Clarkson's video for "Since You've Been Gone," which, yes, I have downloaded. Adam claims it is the best song to hit pop radio in nine months. Midway through the video, I turned to Adam and said, "If two years ago I had said that we would be here watching a Kelly Clarkson video on my computer at 4:30 in the morning, what would you have said?" He responded with, "Where's the gun? Where's my head?"
Kelly erased my two year hatred of her with one video. That's pretty remarkable. Now I really want to wake up next to her one morning, preferrably naked.
"And then I saw her standing there with green eyes and long blonde hair, she won't be wearing underwear..." In the immortal words of one Paris Hilton, "That's Hot."
Now that I have actually begun to internalize and think about the Blink Break Up, I have realized that it really shouldn't happpen.
On a different, but still related note, Scott Raynor, their original drummer, is probably a little bit happier today.
Sometimes I think I am a genius, other times I believe I am a moron. Is there any middle ground?
I just went outside to take a leak and I was looking around at some freshly fallen snow and it reminded me of the movie Fargo.
I could never end up with a dumb chick. So if you're dumb, get out of my fantasies.
I often like to speak in metaphor, but it really frustrates me when people either straight out don't get it, or just don't appreciate it. Fuck you all.
Knuckleballs are fun.
Deets Out.
Until Tomorrow.
This is also the first time in a long time that I'm playing poker online after drinking.
Combining the two at 4 a.m. should produce great things.
Jesse and I both just lost connection to Poker Pages. Disaster.
I have an all Blink-182 playlist going on right now in their memory after their apparent break-up. (see Dave Navarro's blog)
Adam and I are trying to harmonize on Dick Lips off the Dude Ranch album. I know I'm not carrying my weight.
Adam and I are planning on pulling a Damon/Affleck and winning an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. I get to be Damon.
I could give a graduate course on how to turn off and push away girls. Adam will be delivering key note speeches bi-weekly followed by a seminar on home wrecking by Will.
I just clapped for myself after writing that.
So Adam and I were standing on the front porch of the 213 and I was beginning to discuss how the Blink-182 break up hasn't really hit me yet. The glue that Blink-182 has been between four friends should be known to the readers. I have been threatened with exile from a bar for standing on a stool singing Blink. I need to get booted from a bar sometime. Anyway, Adam was saying how the Sammy Sosa trade hasn't really sunk in with him either. Then I said, "Tell me what you think about this..." And Adam interrupted and said, "What? Sammy and Blink are putting out a new album?"
I was bent over for the next few minutes laughing my ass off trying to imagine broken ass English being sung over some power chords.
(Pause for giggling.)
ericsch20: i'm fucke dup so
ericsch20: i oolove you, buti got to sleep
That is from my friend Eric. He's drunk and after a day of working at a high school dance competition probably inflicted with a mad case of blue balls.
He's not gay.
Well sometimes.
Wait, maybe not. This is his away message right now: "bboiebies#!!!!!!!"
Adam and I are fighting over keyboard control and I'm winning 'cause why the fuck wouldn't I?
Farnsworth is in Detroit throwing 100 mph. Abby might move there.
Mauer and Morneau will combine for 65 homers this year. Mark it down, Dude.
Rivas hitting .250... Would you take the over or the under? Give me the under.
Look for the 213 Connection to take over ESPN the summer of 2006(first words ever uttered on Deetsblog by A.S.J.)
I just pulled a deck of cards out of my jacket pocket. I don't know why they were there, but I like the fact that they were.
Adam and I just turned on Kelly Clarkson's video for "Since You've Been Gone," which, yes, I have downloaded. Adam claims it is the best song to hit pop radio in nine months. Midway through the video, I turned to Adam and said, "If two years ago I had said that we would be here watching a Kelly Clarkson video on my computer at 4:30 in the morning, what would you have said?" He responded with, "Where's the gun? Where's my head?"
Kelly erased my two year hatred of her with one video. That's pretty remarkable. Now I really want to wake up next to her one morning, preferrably naked.
"And then I saw her standing there with green eyes and long blonde hair, she won't be wearing underwear..." In the immortal words of one Paris Hilton, "That's Hot."
Now that I have actually begun to internalize and think about the Blink Break Up, I have realized that it really shouldn't happpen.
On a different, but still related note, Scott Raynor, their original drummer, is probably a little bit happier today.
Sometimes I think I am a genius, other times I believe I am a moron. Is there any middle ground?
I just went outside to take a leak and I was looking around at some freshly fallen snow and it reminded me of the movie Fargo.
I could never end up with a dumb chick. So if you're dumb, get out of my fantasies.
I often like to speak in metaphor, but it really frustrates me when people either straight out don't get it, or just don't appreciate it. Fuck you all.
Knuckleballs are fun.
Deets Out.
Until Tomorrow.
