Sound Lounge challenge…

A few of the guys at a sound house we use had some peeps and me over for some poker. It ended up being a small game of only five.

PS 260 did not do so well at the showing. Bryan lost forty dollars, first one out, and biggest loser. Eric left next, down twenty, but i commend him on not rebuying again, lord knows i did.

But I kept our honor by coming out with the most chips in the end, 52 dollars, and

second in profit at twenty-two. Second place Justin took home 27 with an almost forty gross. He never bought back, that bastard.

Paul lost ten cashing out with thirty chips.

I went all in with ace king preflop, one of the first preflop raises of the game, and paul calls with a pair of threes. The flop comes out three king blah. I got my fucking king, but he spiked his three right off the bat. But later I took my shit back with a sneaky two pair he didn’t believe.

Good fun, good fun. The winning trend continues with a 230 up marker.

Long live getting the runner runner flush when you have the ace.

I know adobe products better than you…

My editor secured a contract with Nextel last april to make all their industrials (company “power videos,” sales self promotion crap) for a while. We have now made like six or seven of them. In one, we had to deliver like 400 mini video cds.

So I got to design the cover. This is what I came up with.

I know it’s a bit lame, but I got a kick out of it when I realized that four hundred people would be fondling my whore art.

yes. whore art. but art none the less.

Sunday of Sundays…

Superbowl Sunday surprise at senor rutkoffs. I would be taking the chips from my office that weigh more than your fattest cousin so I chose a ride with a wood pit stop over subway arm strain.

Of course we got a bit lost.

But the free wood booty was there for sure.

Putting it in the car,

Was no sweat.

Except I got a bloody pinky that looks worse than this picture appears.

So I took out the mat and althea be good sticks.

Then pregame poker began.

I did my thing, Derek did his thing,

even rutkoff got in on the action, coming out big winner on a rebuy.

Wings, pizza, and cheese dip all came.

And went.

People watched the game, which meant allot of magazine or paper time.

Or dan sleeping

Then the postgame poker began. (the players that had been playing since three cashed out and a new game started afresh circa eight or nine.)

Claire played the game of her life coming out big winner.

I slinked into second for a seventy five profit takehome.

And althea made like ten.

Big thank you to the hosts, gracious as they are.

The late train home always feels poetic.

Im now up 210 dollars.

If my left nut were near you, you would have to suck it.

I tried…

I did. I tried to post something in the last four days. But it was all at awkward times and nothing made sense. Alone, they were nothing, but together they might fly. Here are all my attempts at a post.

A very themed week…

Nothing but poker this week. The trio of john angus and dustin once again squared away. John lost it all. Angus took first and I doubled my money. Being pissed for the previous night, John made an off hand challenge of a fifty dollar game right there

So I have this penis…

It aches at times. It becomes a real nuisance, a dull throb between my legs stealing attention from anything else.

What reality do you choose? A benign anthropomorphic older white male god, an eight armed swordfighter with a bevy of friends, A reborn Jew, some interconnecting force thingie that unites us all, nothing, you concede that you will never tuly prove it one way or another, a female earth matriarchy, an asian or arab prophet?

What really turns you on? Kissing, fucking, making love, oralizing, getiing oralized, hitting, biting, the dry one, power, feet, food, leather, midget porm?

I haven’t felt like posting in a while. I don’t know why. Or maybe it’s just been too much poker, and I never liked being a broken record. John lost allot again on Thursday, with an impromptu gauntlet thrown after the game ended, for another fifty winner takes all head to head match. Then Saturday I lost fifty five and john one a gross of 192 (net 120) for big winner status.

Dirty dirty D…

Well, my competitiveness got the better of me, and now I feel a bit dirty.

For whatever reason, I have a keen sense of game strategy, for most games anyway. Somehow, I connect the dots on what it takes to win rather rapidly. The first time I ever played scrabble (junior year of college against greg Barlow and chithra) my focus was on creating great large words. Until greg played his turn and opened my eyes to the REAL way to play scrabble. It’s not about the length or coolness of the word, but how you place it on the board. A well played Xu (oh scrabble dictionary) can be triple the points than a badly played Sexy.

I’ve beaten pool players who were slightly better than I because I understood the defensive positioning of pool. If I had a choice between shots I would always go with the one that would leave the cue as far away from his balls as possible. Position position.

Recognizing the big picture, finding the weakness, and figuring out how to exploit it, these things just come easy for me. I blame chess, and the sped up button pushing version of chess, one on one fighting games like tekken and street fighter.

Add to this my obsession with small scale politics, with my belief that I somehow understand and can manipulate events better than others… It all leads to trouble.

So, yesterday was a big test to see if I was getting lucky or if I could actually keep winning at poker. I took john out one on one Sunday, beat him and Angus Monday, and now the rematch was set.

First hand, the flop comes seven seven nine, and I have the nine. John checks me and I bet, he calls and another seven pops off. I have a full house, we both go all in and he has the seven for quads. First hand, and im out. And that’s the way the night would go. By a couple of hours later, im down thirty dollars, john is a huge stack, and Angus is riding in a smallish stack.

So my politicking began. I new that if I bought back in for ten dollars, I would basically just be giving it to John (unless I got really lucky really quick and doubled up right away). So I asked if I could buy in for twenty, something that john never did last night. Fingering his stack, Johns says he’d rather not, seeing as we did not do so yesterday. And he was right, he did not want me to buy back for enough money to hurt him. But buying ten, twiddling it away, and buying another ten was just not going to happen.
“well,” I said. “Then I’m out.”
“well twenty it is, I guess.”
I had to push it that way, there was no other path to victory. So we continue playing, and john keeps his stack. By eleven thirty five Angus is out, and out of money (again. Angus, you have to get more aggressive preflop with good cards. You have to be able to put them down if they don’t hit, and you must chase with more discretion. Also, when small stacked, stop calling with anything not worth something, and get more aggressive when you do have cards. Short stacks have two options, all in or fold). I had my twenty that I had just bought in for.

The day before, once angus was gone I called a four hand limit, because I wanted to keep my stack as big as it was. John tried to pull the same thing on me this time, but I knew a couple of things: a. john with no constraints will just keep playing, he loves this fucking game. b. he remembers losses. He will want to vindicate himself with a thorough victory. c. his girlfriend was gone, he had no constraints and he was big stacked. Conclusion, john was in until I had no money left.

So I pushed for half an hour, allot more than four hands, and john said yes. So we started going at it. The one on one battle. And I started to get good cards. I got jacks in the hole twice, and ate john’s large preflop raise with an all in. I pushed hard with ace anything. Slowly, I was grinding away at his stack. And the time kept ticking. At one point I knew it was passed the half hour mark, but I said nothing, just kept dealing the cards, hoping john would not call it (if he had I would have had to stop). And so, we rolled, and I kept eating away at his stack. And then…

… I get ace queen suited, and John raises three pre flop. At this point, I know that he has something good, and it smells like high pockets… I wonder if he could have aces queens or kings. But fuck it, its late, I have a high hand, and im all in. He calls with jacks. Damn if its not a race.

I flop the ace right of the bat, and nothing else comes. I took it all. Again. I had grinded john to such a point that I had enough to take him out.

He was furious. He new he should have stopped when he had a chance, knew that I manipulated him into more play… it just felt dirty. But, john could have pulled the plug at almost any point and there would not have been much I could do, so he did kinda go along with it, hoping for something like jacks to put me away. Talk about backfire.

So I am a manipulating little bastard sometimes. I just want to win.

Then, after all that, john proposed another 20 dollar tournament because his fury could only be appeased by more poker. It was getting late, and I did not want to play anymore (afterall, I had just pulled one of my greatest comebacksever, from minus fifty to plus fortyfive!), but how could I refuse. Angus wanted some more too so we loaned him the twenty. He goes up early with some good hands, and I lose early and don’t hold on too well because im not that into it and winning was not going to further my cause at all. John and angus are almost even when they call four more hands. John bullies a bit, and then the last hand comes. A small raise preflop, and four four seven come off. Angus checks and John goes all in. A conflicted angus takes a long time talking himself through the hand, wondering what john could have. He settles on the four, John had to have the four. So he folds, not wanting to end the night in such a terrible hand, but he flips over his cards. Pocket aces. On the last hand he gets pocket fucking aces. John then flips over his ace two suited bluff, and angus remains conflicted and angry. He folded pocket aces on the last hand, something john and I could never have done. Oh well, someday, someone will actually have the four and he will be happy he did not call.

Anyways, pictures are coming soon, and I am now up 120 on the record.

Double down…

I had a laggy fucking day. After lunch I felt like I was falling asleep. Its never hit me this bad.

Then a surprise poker at john’s with angus and him brought forth a lucky ride for yours truly. I would get something good, and someone would have something just below: trips to two pair, or flushes to straights. I also stayed in sometimes when I had a medium pairs that held to bluffs. And my folding instinct saved me two key times when I would have been quite beat, most notably, nines in the pocket against ace four, he raises preflop and I call and he flops the straight, except I have way over top pair. Usually I would have stayed in, but some thing kept me pushing more money into that pot. I saved myself a bunch of moolah.

All in all, Dustin wins fifty-six profit.

John and Angus go home crying to mama.

And for the record, I am now up 96 dollars.

Too much too much…

Poker on Thursday took me out in an aggravating manner. I played smart, waiting and waiting, surviving on twenty dollars, then going out buying back only once going up a bit but just staying in there, then poof, I don’t even remember how, I lost.

But not these guys. Gable won big. He’s consistent, almost too consistent, and yet he keeps coming up in the black, so what do I know.

Jim stayed in it, won one big hand and just cruised.

And angus just made his mony back off of me in the end. It might have been trips against a flush.

Today, the sylvan stark combo ran the table for most of the game. The first time I played a hand was queens against johns jacks, only to lose to a jack on the rivro. And that’s the way the day went. Losing forty. I had queens to liz’s aces later.

In the end, cry baby rutkoff became happy rutkoff as his last buy back (minus forty) made him the biggest winner of the day, taking a bit over forty profit.

Liz and Derek take about fifty each.

Althea came late and left with seventeen.

I even left with 13, down forty.

Everyone left, except john and me. We were both down a bit, so we decided to play a two out of three tourney (twenty dollars each game) sixty dollar game. I won the first one. From down forty, I went to up twenty. It happened faster than we thought, so we played again. I lost this time. So then we played again, this time for fifty. I won again, going back to up ten. Which I layed on the line and won. Now up twenty, I laid it down again and won again for an up forty end of the night.

I win.

Off broke john.

I am now overall up forty dollars. Well done. Sorry I took your money john, but im glad I beat you in poker.

Oh, don carlos, you are so sexy.

Talk to me…

Sadly, I have just now realized that allot of people have not been able to keep up with the audio video extras of StFuD. Wether your work or school has a firewall, or you just can’t handle quick time technology, I apologize. You are missing out on a totally different and cool style of posting.

But here’s what I will do. I’ll go back into the archives and outline whatever video or audio thing you are missing. It will be just as if you were actually witnessing the post with your own eyes.

Right now I am at work making 15 DVDs of a six minute Nextel video. Not the funnest time spent on a Friday night, but whatevs, overtime taste good in my belly come check time.

Anyway…

Ive been meaning to post about the chris rock theory. I had this great thought about the two key areas necessary to keep a good relationship good, only to expound said theory to warren who told me chris rock had already done it in one of his monologues. Yes, both ideas had very similar points, but I like my wording better.

Rock says you have to have a good time fucking, and eating. Cause that’s what you do. You fuck, and then you go get a sandwhich.

I take it one step further (it’s a step that rock implies but I don’t care), the fucking has to be good, and the time not-fucking has to be good too. Even time together when you are not ingesting food.

Some prudish people might say that what’s really important is the not-fucking time. That a relationship has to have deeper ties than just the physical. Because the body will cool at some point, and any long-range partnership needs something more than shafts, wet holes, and moist tongues to make it in the long run. The love, the connection, the private time spent not inside each other is where true happiness lies.

Others may argue that the fucking is what intimate relationships are all about. How much closer can you be then when you are inside someone, or they are inside of you? Sex is where that spark hides, the electricity of attraction that melds people together, the loss of singularity into the base magical and scary area of plurality. If you don’t have fun fucking someone, then how can you be with them?

Well, who’s right? The fuckers or the non-fuckers. The answer, obviously, is both. (This is all communal knowledge that any relationship pundit worth her meddle will spit at you, I know, but I love saying it in my own idiosyncratic way). Both the fucking, and the not fucking has to be good.

Sex is an intuitive, vulnerable, incredibly self-conscious state. It rewards tremendously, but it easily gets you into trouble as well. If you are not having a good fucking roll with whomever you roll in the hay with, then you have to communicate that and do what it takes to make it better, or leave if the chemistry just isn’t there. Because fucking isn’t everything, but damn, it might just be the funest part. If you’re not doing it, then what the hell are you doing?

But the time spent not fucking is just as important. If you fuck like a crazed bonobo monkey in heat, but then spend the rest of the day in uncomfortable silences, or bitchy tête-à-têtes, or just wishing your significant otro would just shut the fuck up, then we have issues. There’s allot of time to fill with this person, you better maker sure your humors stack up, (not necessarily match perfectly, but mesh well), that you can keep a conversation, that you can pass that time having a good time, that your intellects meld in a ratio that makes you happy. Because everybody has to do something after crazy Viagra monkey sex.

There, I have spoken. The fucking is important, but the not-fucking time is important as well.

I’ve been photoblogging too much. I owed you one of these.

Shout outs, baby! SHOUT OUTS!