November 8, 2004

  • Fuck people who steal your mom, go blogging…

    I had an entry all planned out and then I got the email from the post below. My plan was to postpone the entry, but fuck that, if I do that, the sequesterers win. So here it is…

    Poker heartbreak and why i cant blog about certain aspects of life…

    So last email I read, Aaron expresses anger at a low turn out. I email him I am in, and, with a newly set paradigm of him calling when things are on because he’s so agro like that and he must verify, I planned to use him as my alarm clock. I went to bed at 4 in the morning two days in a row, so I needed as much sleep as I could. And then rutkoff never calls and I wake up at four thirty, and poker was on at 4:00.

    I call john to tell him its on and that we are late. We set up a plan to meet at the C train on Central park West. (sometimes I wish John would new york himself up a bit more and realize Brooklyn is not the far coast of china and get himself some train knowledge so we could just meet at places) I only say this because we were even later because I missed two trains I could have gotten waiting for him. Whatevs, company is usually better than being all alone. I think its his fault, and he vice a versas it.

    Good news is we got there. I did well early on and made it to the final three only to be taken out by the steamrollin’ Holly Ecker, using an I-don’t-know-how-to-play-routine jazzed up with amazing cards. She couldn’t hold it, because as you can see, Ethan red soxed (ha! it is official, red sox as a verb) it back to win it all…

    Althea also returned to new york, but i didn't get to hang with her because i was late and then i took her out on a lucky grab and she left. She had been working to get Kerry reelcted. She helped get us Pensylvania, and yet she still failed us. But its good to get her back.

    So that was poker. Now on to a sad day here at Shut The Fuck Up, Donny: I might have to stop blogging about actual hook ups and the such. It just ends up getting me into trouble if I make certain events, like I don’t know, a topless cuddle party, and/or phones sex, public knowledge. This will be the last time you hear of mein exploits and forays into the carnal leisure’s of my leisures. The truth IS out there, and it hurts, like a cat out of his pesky bag or two worthless ones in the bush.

    Oh, btw, I have this vision for an entry into the nerve photo contest involving chess. Unfortunately, for it to come alive I also need a naked vagina, and I just plain don’t have one. If any one knows of willingone, I sure would appreciate it.