Bizaarrro World, Dateline Las Vegas 2009

This might possibly be the most difficult blog I ever write! And the longest.

Why? Well, this has been the most incredibly emotion-wrought 35 hours of my poker life. I am sitting here in my room, at some place called South Pointe casino, where the customers I passed on the way to the elevator are clearly people who got some kind of mail offer that propelled them to leave their trailer in East Bumble Fuck, Nevada to come and 'Let it Ride' for their chance at Fame and Fortune.

Okay. So I made it past the flood of subculture, survived the ride up the elevator that shakes as it rises. And now, with Squirrel laying here, shaking her head in disgust, at yet another 'Monkey Episode'...and knowing that sex with the woman I love and desire is once again going to elude me, after forking up $350 to change her flight until Tuesday while all her gaggle of friends left this morning (awoken at 8:36am by 'The Claw' in the bathroom giggling at God knows what) I wonder to myself....hmmm..."should I completely do a RIP job on the Venetian? Or should I take the high road, recognize them for doing whatever it is they felt they needed to do, and let it go?"

As my buddy (slash partner in crime) Mike insists that I completely throw them under the bus, I am feeling compelled to find a reason to 'let it go.'

Yes, this night ended badly. Very badly. In fact, this day is one I would love to sincerly wipe from the face of this planet's existence. But I can't. So what I will do is write about it. Because those of you who read this shit clamour for it.

So...where do I begin. First of all, I left off like two days ago, when my whole article got cut in half. We left off with that Asian guy, the jackass. Yeah well, he got busted after I put him on tilt. It was very satisfying. And then...mmm, see I don't even remember anymore what happened. That's whats so fucked up about Vegas in the summer. Or maybe its good. After a few days you completely forget about the fucked up shit that knocked you out of a tournament. I would have to consult with my little black book to remember. Lets just say I didnt win, and I didnt cash. And it was awfully painful. Just like almost every mother(@&*$*( tournament on this trip has been. So that one is dead and buried.

Guess that was Sunday. What is today? Holy crap. Saturday. Wow. I have all KINDS of shit to write about. Tomorrow for instance, is Father's Day. And what did I forget to do? Or simply not get around to? Thats right...send my Dad a letter or card. I officially SUCK ASS!

So without going into great detail...lets just say that this week has completely sucked royal ass. Here is the good news. Occassionally, people (like those who have backers) often times lie to people about how they lost. In my case, I have been taking PICTURES of these hands. The dealers and floor people are talking about the beats I'm taking like its some kind of episode on 'Ripley's Believe It or Not.'

I have just been thrown out of the Venetian. I am invited to come back tomorrow. Do I want to even bother? Well. That is where I am conflicted. This has been a classically shitty day.

Three days ago, Keith got banned from Harrah's for some weird shit that went down last SUnday when Keith got into it with some Craps floor guy. So I had to move rooms. I moved in with Mike "Fast Talker" Terril from St. Louis. His free room expired on Friday. So on Friday night...when all of us went to a club...Tao, where we had a table, and Brandon Jarrett and Tiffany Michelle showed up and, well, lets just say they managed to pretty much piss off everyone in our party (before finally leaving)...we went to the Palms to some dudes suite, where we played Big Deuce til 8 in the morning, then went back to our hotel...packed up all our shit, and went to the Mirage to stay with Squirrel and her friends.

We left it there and went to the Venetian to play the noon tournament. Only problem was, we didn't wake up till 2pm. We got there at Level 3. Mike managed to chip up big early. What happened to me? Well, I had a very aggressive table, so when I picked up AA in early position, I decided it would be a good idea t limp and look for the late position raiser. Nope. Didn't happen. Flop comes K-3-4. SB checks. I bet out the pot. BB raises. Huh? Flush draw? Straight draw? No way. I re-raise him all in. CALL!! He has....duh, K-3. Really? Nice!

Mike would end up turning 200k in chips near the dinner break into a catastrophic AA vs 99 disaster that saw him not cash. Meanwhile, while he was doing THAT I was over playing in SNG's getting my hopes and dreams crushed. In the first one I had Lance "Two purples and three yellows" Funston playing at my table. This is one of the nicest guys you will EVER meet at a poker table. Come to find out, all these years that Chad Brown (pretty good buddy of mine) has been 'staying at a buddy's condo, its been Lance's condo hes been staying at. Pretty strange. Lance puts a $100 bounty on himself in all SNG's. Not a bad idea really. Gets people gunning for you. And with his risky style of play, he is going to get a LOT of action. He also always tips the dealers $100, so win or lose, the dealers love seeing him at their table. Well, in that one...I would get down to 3. Two winners. This clown gets the chiplead and just starts moving all in every hand. I was going to have to take a stand since me and the other guy had about the same number of chips, so when the guy shoved and I looked at AJ in the BB I called. He turns over KJ. Well, at least I'm ahead, right? Flop comes J-Q-J. Hmmm...okay. 4 on the turn. And just as I think I am about to turn this fool into a 1500 shortstack vs my 8500 and the other guys 4500....the dealer slaps a K on the river...and I am out. With no money.

In the next one, someone raised in early position. I call with AQ. Another player calls. And this guy in the SB goes all in for another 100 more. We all call. The flop comes Q-10-3. Checks to me, I go all in. They both fold...All In boy turns over JACK DEUCE. I say "Hmm, wonder how YOUR gonna beat me here." And just as he claims to be drawing dead...the dealer throws out running twos! Shortstacks me, and I proceed to get knocked out a few hands later when I run 66 into 1010.

I would manage to win 2 of my next 4 to get back to almost even on the day, but it was once again a day of total frustration. Last night, I say last night...because I just closed the lid on my laptap three paragraphs ago and surrendered to fatigue. I've just awoken to some more fantastic news that Squirrel decided not to tell me last night. Claudia, who flew home yesterday morning, drove Cheryl's car from the airport to HER house to get her own car. On the way home from the airport she ran into the back of someone's car and smashed up Squirrel's car. Are you kidding me? How bad can this year possibly get for us? Oh and Aunt Flo showed up as well, so any affection I may have been planning on getting just went out the window as well. Sweet.

What's coming next? A phone call from our dogsitter that both our dogs just got hit by lightning and are dead? Maybe our house burns down? Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and both of my legs will have stopped working.

Lets talk about a little place called Table 60 at the Venetian. Otherwise known as the Bermuda Triangle. A place where Monkey's fly/sail in and never return from. On Thursday I got off to the hottest start EVER. I sat down in the middle of Level 3, very late, but not sweating it. Also seated at my table was good buddy Kevin O'Leary, who is without a doubt one of the FUNNIEST poker players I have ever met. He finds me just as funny. Kevin is Irish, dyes his hair various colors and has a giraffe as a card marker that changes colors on its own accord. We were having a lot of fun cutting up with each other. I sit down and with QQ flop a set. With KK I flop a set, turn a boat. And I am getting paid off. Then...sitting on 18k, I decide to limp in with 5d7d, kind of a fun little hand to play for 200 early. Guy two doors down makes it 650. Ugh. So much for playing THIS hand, right? Well, then he gets a caller, and ANOTHER caller. I announce "all right gang, this is officially the loosest call I will make all day."

The flop comes A-6-8. Hmmm, interesting! I check and dial in on the initial raiser. He seems troubled by the flop. Doesn't like that ace? He c-bets 1100. To which the other players insta-calls. Other player folds. Now the second snap call should have been some kind of signal to me that one of them had me crushed for sure. But it wasn't. I decide that if I were going to play this hand in the first place, that this was the kind of flop I was looking for. [think back to this hand when you read up on how I got whacked last night, its strangely ironic]

So I decide to 'make a move' on this board and just SHOVE all in. Not only does the first guy snap call, but the second as well. Holy shit! They turn over AA and 66. Whoa. No problem, turn card is a 4! Straight! And they dont fill up on the river, and like that I had a shitload of chips! Later I would take out a guy with QcJc vs his AK when I flopped 8-9-10. Then I raise with AK...a guy calls in the BB with 34off. The flop comes K-3-4. He check raises me all in. I river an ace. I would have AK 7 times in an hour and by the FIRST BREAK I was sitting on 102k. The average was 18k.

Thats when I make one mistake and have another one bestowed upon me. First, I post on my Facebook how good I am running, and text a bunch of people, excited at the early prospects of actually making a final table finally. This would, of course result in all these people wanting deeper follow up accounts for the next 24 hours. The next bit of bad fortune would come when our table broke and I was sent to.....duh duh duh duhhhhhh Table 60.

Cue: Shit hitting the fan.

Enter: BEN the dealer. Forked tail tucked into back of dealer vest, horns hiding under a tuft of black hair. Cold, steely, lifeless eyes staring listlessly into my soul. Let the slaughter begin.

With blinds 400/800, the button shoves all in for, 18k! I am in the SB with, oh! ACES. I guess I will call. He turns over KJ. The flop comes...A-Q-10. They call that a set. The also call it a straight. And I fail to fill up. Bye Bye 18k. Next? AQ. Raise. Get a call from the old scary looking bitch from Austria or something. Flop comes Qc-4c-3c. I have no clubs. I bet out a fair amount. She calls. Turn is the 7 of hearts. I bet out an even fairer amount. She calls again. The river is a 9 of clubs. Wonderful. I give up. Check. She goes all in! Now some of you might think that is the act of a deperate player and a bluff. Like, why would she go all in with a flush? Why? Because these people don't play like you and I. These people are from other planets. I knew for a FACT that she had a flush. So I fold, after losing another 20k of my chips.

It would only get more fun. I raise with KQs. I get a call from a shortstack. The flop comes K-10-5. Rainbow this time. I bet out 3/4 of the pot. Shortstack goes all in. Well, I can't put him on AK, he would have raised preflop. Could he have the devil? K10? It would certainly be fitting. Nope, Just KJ. Buts its all good when your at Table 60 and have Satan in the box, because here comes a Q followed by a 9 and once again, we shoot chips to another player.

I am sitting there, watching my chip stack get smaller and smaller...coming apart at the seams. Thinking to myself, "Who is EVER going to believe this?" The Austrian Phyllis Diller continues to raise my BB. Finally, with a buddy visiting me from another table, I tell the table "If she raises my BB again, I am probably going to push in on her without even looking!" So what happens? She raises me. I do look however, and what to my sheer delight do I see? KK. So what do I do? I move all in, as I promised her I would. She snap calls. Andddd turns over AA. You gotta be kidding me. I look into the eyes of Satan/Ben and with complete disdain in my heart imagine the fistfull of holy water I want to throw on him. You KNOW I am not hitting a K there. And now...I am sitting on 15k. With the average at 35k. I feel empty and dead inside.

When I had 102k, I literally almost left the table, to walk over to Mirage and spend the afternoon at the pool with Squirrel and her friends, but NO! That would be stupid right? To come back AFTER dinner break with still close to 75k and the average around 58k. No ONE does that. Now I wish I had!

I get down to 14k, and with the blinds at 600/1200 find AQ in 2nd position and move it all in. I get called by who else? Joan Rivers over there. The guy next to me predicts that she has JJ. I tell him, "Dude, I guarantee you the bitch has AJ, watch!" What does she have? AJ. One thing I HAVE been running good at all week and all month is calling people's hands. People are finding that part of my game pretty scary. Well, you would think I'd be feeling pretty good about my chances to get back up to 30k'ish right? Naw, I knew what was coming, Jack on the turn. And my complete and total devastation was complete. Then, I got to spend the next hour walking around in a daze, with people asking me "Monkey why the hell aren't you at your table? You have ALL those chips!" Um...yeah, I HAD all those chips. WHAT!???? Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to talk about it.

I go play sng's. Win 2 out of 4. Then later that night we went to Tao. It was kind of fun. Then the big deuce game followed later on.

Lets move on to yesterdays catastrophe. Finally find and get checked into a hotel, and on Day 23 I have finally paid for a room. I have managed to run good in THAT department also. The freeloading department. Get to the Venetian in the middle of Level 2. Get seated up on table 55, the feature table. Things start slow. But I find some good spots and when our table breaks I have about 18k. Not bad. Get moved to a new table, and to my left it Dwight "The Duke" Pilgrim, my new buddy that I met out in New Orleans. I am not even out of my chip rack when I look down at AA UTG. Whoa. Raise from 200/400 to 1200 and get no action.

A bit later UTG raises to 1100 and I see 99 in the SB. Flat call. Flop comes K-9-3. Rainbow. Nice. Check. No c-bet. Dammit. Turn is a 5. I bet 2k. He folds AQ face up. Damn. A while later a guy shoves 4900 and I look down at AA again. I call. He has 7h9h. He flops open ended. Oh no. WOW, Jimmy the dealer does NOT kill me, and I rake another pot. I would get AA again, and re-raise Preston from down South...who calls with KQ. Flop comes Q high and he bets 2500. I move in on him. He folds face up, and I show him AA. That table would go very well, when we broke I would have 43k and was starting to feel very good.

My new table was filled with absolutely HORRID players. I was scared. I had reason to be. SEAT ONE. Brazilian. Calling station. Has no love for the game. Seat 3. Asian. Absolute assclown. Seat 4. Out of position raise psycho. Seat 5, changed players about every two orbits. Seat 8, tightest player on the table. I could tell you so many bad plays these people made but why bother, lets just cut to the chase.

The Venetian floor guys, Tim Mix, Anthony Chester, Mark Goldsworthy...would all happen by my table, take looks at my chipstack and wonder/ask "Is this the day you finally break through, Monkey?" To which I would generally respond..."I'm sure its only a matter of time before one of these assclowns delivers me my daily bad beat." I would never make the mistake of getting excited. Not here. No way. So here we are, 5 minutes from the dinner break, sitting on 58k. Average is 52k. UTG+1 raises from 800/1600 to 4800. I look down at 10-10. Not really a good spot to re-raise, but sure wish now that I had. Pretty sure though that this guy has a top five hand. So I smooth call. Well, the joker from Brazil, in the 1 seat and the SB...decides to call with 47 offsuit.

I flop a SET OF TENS! But there are two diamonds out there, and this guy is a chaser. They both check to me. Now guessing the first raiser has AK. So I don't want to price him out. I bet 7500. Mr. Brazil Nut calls. Oh boy. What the hell is HE on? The next guy goes into a painful bout of suffering before making "The worst fold of the tournament" in his words. Not sure what to make of that. The turn is an 8 of spades. He checks again. I now am ready for this hand to be over. I bet 30,000! Leaving like 4500 behind. Thats when he delivers his line that will ring in my ears for hours....

"I don't want to give you a bad beat Mr. Monkey, but I also don't feel like coming back after the dinner break...so I will let you have my chips."

He turns over his hand...and I don't even know without looking at this picture that I took of the hand if he has a gutshot or is open ended, but he makes his move all in, and of course I call...and as the 3 hits the river, giving him a straight...and with all three floor guys watching, and waiting for me to probably pull out a shotgun and pull off the murder/suicide...I slither over to a dark corner somewhere and fall to the floor. I don't cry, but I want to. I don't kill myself. I simply sit there, asking "why?" Why does this keep happening to me over and over and over again? Why can't I just go to dinner break there with 105k in chips and reason to feel good?

So I make another bad decision. Instead of going to a place where cards and chips don't live I walk over and register in the 7pm $120 donkfest. And start drinking. I am going mental and have the table in stitches. Glad they were enjoying me, because I was in a place I can't even describe. I would go on a tear, doubling up with KK vs 88...and for a bit thought I might even have a chance to win. But a couple of bad sequences would leave me kind of short. A guy raises in early position..and I make a read that he is weak, so I shove on him with KQ suited. He has to call for half his raise, and he struggles to do that! Funny. He turns over KJ. Jack on the flop. And it holds. Lovely. And I am OUT.

Go to SNG land. Earlier in the tourney, I had Rob Eyler (spelling?) at my table, the kid who played Tony Soprano's kid on the show. He would move all in after two raises, one by the Brazillian idiot and another player calling. He had AK. Brazil-boy calls with QJ offsuit. He wins. Rob hadn't said a word all game. He flipped out on the guy and leaves. Pissed. We would end up chatting about it later. We exchange numbers. He's a pretty cool little dude. I think he is, or WAS going to join us today at TAO beach. I had decided to take today off, mainly because Joe Cutler, who just cashed (again, Shootout last week for 5th) 15k in the WSOP 2k the other day, was offereing to take us to Tao beach. But now I haven't heard a peep from Joe, and its 12:30. Squirrel is itching to go to the pool, so its looking like Tao Beach just became South Point Trailer Pool Party. Awesome! We are running so good.

The SNG's last night would turn into an unmitigated disaster. No hand would hold up for me. On one, I limp with 66. Bad player raises too much. THREE more players call. I come up with this prediction: "Well, I think you have AK...and three callers tells me that all the A's and maybe all the K's are used up, so I think you are drawing dead....so I'm all in!" I figure I got a good chance there to take down a nice 1200 chip pot early. But he calls, with, SURPRISE...AK. And what does he flop? An ace...followed by another ace. Wow, well that worked out good. OUT.

Play another one. Almost get in trouble for, ya ready? Sexual harrassment. Yeah. This is at a table that I was laughing and joking with a male dealer, who we were acting gay to the delight of the table. New dealer shows up, and has to sign her down card. This is not a dealer I'm familiar with. She is, well, lets just call her very unattractive. I jokingly place the down card on my lap and tell her to get it. She freaks out, telling me I'm harrassing her. "I can't deal THIS TABLE!" She goes and complains to the SNG coordinator. Oh my God. I walk over to Cyndi and explain the situation. I apologize. Really didn't see it being a big deal. Offer to show pictures of Squirrel to this frumpy beast, to ensure her that my sexy thoughts are not of the dealer. Why is it always the homely girls who are the first to flip out and cite sexual harrassment? Ridiculous.

So, on the final sit n go, me and Mike buy into a $240. There is a $100 last longer, with 9 players. VERY JUICY. And we both REALLY need a win. I have slipped into my serious zone, putting on my iPod and dialing in. A couple of tense moments arise with other players NOT named Monkey. Asshole in the 10 seat has called clock on three seperate players after they have taken under 30 seconds to act. I finally put a $100 bounty on the guy. Then the guy on my right starts acting like a jerk. So I put a $30 bounty on HIM. I go back to my music. Two other players are arguing. Next, the floor comes over AGAIN...after the asshole has called clock on Mike. She tells him "Sir that is the FOURTH time you have called clock, and you are abusing it...so I am giving YOU a penalty!" So then they argue. Then Anthony comes over...and with veins bugging out of his forehead and sweat pouring down his face he starts screaming at the whole table. It was getting very out of hand. And what's funny is, I was just sitting there feeling pretty mellow, and not really giving a shit anymore.

I am pretty certain the whole table was on warning. Then the idiot on my left comes out with this gem "This is crazy, this table is crazy, I want OUT of this SNG, just give me back my buy in so I can leave." To which the guy in the one seat asks for the same thing. HA! Nice try guys...and nice short stacks. Yeah, it doesn't really work that way. Then I lose a large percentage of my chips when on a 5 player limped pot I move all in with A10 and get called by one guy...the jackass with K6s. Yeah, KING SIX...for ALL his chips. He wins with a 6 on the turn...and I say..."Great call you Donkey."

FIVE HANDS LATER, the floor is called AGAIN, this time for something between Mike and the guy who looks like Sammy Farha if Sammy ever turned to crack. Pretty sure I was calling him Cracky Farha. The floor arrives in the form of Anthony, who's face is bright red now. I am listening to AC/DC. WIthout a care in the world, sitting there with my scant 600 chips and dreaming of a comeback. Then I see fingers pointing at me. HUH? Remove headphones. "Did you call that guy a fucking donkey, Monkey?" What? Thats why you are over here? I called him a donkey, yeah...FIVE HANDS AGO. SO Mike, who is sitting there with 4600 chips and a legitimate shot to win defends me. Then a war breaks out on the table, and again...I am saying NOTHING. Then Anthony suddenly announces that ME and MIKE are OUT of the SNG! Disqualified! WHAT THE FUCK! Mike goes crazy. Anthony orders them to give us back our $100 last longer bets. I pick up my $100 and $30 bounties and quietly walk away. Mike though is staying and protesting....

[Maria from Hard Rock just texted to Squirrel to let us know that the Bad Beat just hit at I.P., great..thanks for that uplifting news!]

I walk out to the tourney registration desk and begin talking to a couple guys back there. I tell my side of the story. I let them know how disappointed I am with their decision, that with the kind of day and week that I am having there, and with the support that I continue to give them on here and through word of mouth that I was shocked that they would do that to me. They tell me "Monkey, its not that we don't want you to come back, we do...but we had to do something and it looked like you were the cause." [even though, clearly, I wasn't...I just always seem to be a convenient fall guy]

Mike comes strolling along, with three security people surrounding him. Wonderful. He is freaking out. I am the calm, voice of reason. He can't beleive I am so calm. He almost becomes mad that I'm not mad. I'm telling him..."Dude, being pissed off isnt going to make it any better. You just gotta let it go." I think the poker room managers appreciated my demeanor. And I doubt very seriously that there will be any repercussions when I DO go back. But honestly, I am just really getting to the point where I am sick of it. For every 20 dealers they have in there who are just AWESOME in every way, there is that ONE who is a complete MORON. And when they go bitch about me for whatever reason, I get "The Talk."

I don't know, maybe I'm just getting sick of poker, period. And all the bullshit that surrounds it. And the bad beats. The suckouts. The horrible players that show up to this outpost every summer to put their horrendous skills on display. Killing us good players who do this to try and make a living. It drains you. And I am drained. And admittedly, I am disappointed to a certain degree with the Venetian and how they handle certain things.

Granted, I am a bit of a crazy maniac at times, and I know I attract a lot of attention, sometimes unintentionally. And these guys are tasked with essentially managing a fucking circus every day. So with me being one of the biggest clowns under the tent...I guess I understand when in a fit of frutstration I get asked to get the hell out of there for the night. So Anthony, if you are reading this...I forgive you. You did NOT make the right decision last night. You over-reacted. Clearly. And Mike probably got fucked out of a $1000 or more in winnings at a time when HE really needed a win, too. But all the elements added up to this result, so I will bite the bullet.

On another note, Tim Mix and Kathy Raymond are contemplating taking the ONE STEP that I think will finally put the last shovel of dirt on Ceasers Palace. I've talked with Tim about the payout structures. It is the ONLY bad part of this event. WAY too top heavy. And Ceasers' isnt. Its the only advantage they have over Venetian. I've expressed to him my desire (as well as EVERY player I have talked to) to see the payouts flatten out a little, like 6%. It would make the event great. No one wants to make the money and realize a $100 gain on their investment. Its a joke. Especially with a backer. Great, I cashed 28th today. Made $1100 on a $560 buy in, of which my backer gets 60% of. What did I make? $50? For 12 hours of play? Nice. So I really, really hope and kind of predict that by Monday we will see an adjustment there.

I have a litany of random notes here I wanted to get to, but this blog entry is wayyyyy too long. Kai Landry has a new blog up. Hilarious as always. Check it out.

Happy Fathers Day to all the Dads out there.

Chicks with Sleeve tattoos? Why? First of all, it isnt very attractive to start with...but what happens in 5 to 10 years when the trend has died off, and these girls walk into a job interview? Do they even think about this? Tattoos are just everywhere. I have ZERO tattoos. I would like it to stay that way.

Interesting thing occurred at Tao the other night. We were out of booze. Four bottles had been consumed already. At $500 a pop. Some (most) had chipped in, others hadn't. Should we get one more? Should we not? Finally decided to. I collect a total of $500 from various people, maybe 6 total. I order a bottle of Grey Goose. IT arrives. Total, $538. My $100 becomes $138. Then I watch what can only be compared to a United Nations food drop in Ethiopia or Darfur. It was a mad swarm...and when the dust and buzzards cleared there was about 1/8th of an inch worth of vodka left in the bottle, with my glass still yet to be filled with a cocktail. WOW. That was a very wise decision. Las Vegas, land of mispent funds.

Mike and I have had a lot of fun making fun of morons who walk around taking pictures of the stupidest shit. This guy was literally standing in front of the horse in the fountain at Ceasers with a video camera...taping a horse that would surely never move or do anything interesting. We were laughin our asses off. People take pictures of the dumbest shit. And what do they do with them? So what does Mike do? He starts posing with the most ridiculous things he can find. Plants. Metal railings. Bushes. Other tourists (which tends to really freak out the tourista subject). Ducks. So in addition to the MANY donkey photos I have accumulated, we now have a nice collection of photos NO ONE in their RIGHT MIND would ever want to see.

I think I am done here. In summary, life right now can NOT possibly get any worse for Senor Monkey. I can not run any worse than I am running right now, so there is no where to go but up. I am playing good, making proper reads, calling people's damn hands....but for some reason, the Poker Gods have remained adamant about using 2009 as its personal anal probe regarding me. I have attempted to pray, asking for some relief. But the one and two outers just keep on coming. I am now going to go lay in the sun. Thats ONE area that I have been successful in at least, getting tan. That and consuming alcohol and getting into clubs for free are areas that I am running good in, so thats SOMEthing, I guess!

To all the readers who have come up and introduced yourselves to me, its been great meeting you. I am writing this because I now feel a certain sense of obligation to you all. Really, honestly...I didn't even want to write. I guess now I feel a bit better. After all, I don't get paid for this, its more for mental therapy. Y'all have a nice day!

MONKEY SLAP

I am attempting to upload a picture of the SET OF TENS tourney ending suckout...just in case ANY of you think I make this shit up!!!!