My Busted-Ass Website

I see that the few dedicated hobo-lovers that still post here are up in arms over the lack of updates.  Sorry holmes, but a melancholia has set in as my world crumbles around me.  Everything’s right-as-rain on the home front– I couldn’t love my little peanut any more than I do– but aside from that the world is falling to dust.

Brewers: ousted. Badger football: balls.  Packers: meh. My parlay cards: BAD!  My weight: high.  My bank account: low.  My ebay feedback rating: so-so.  My craigslist want ad: unanswered. My gainful employment: perhaps running out.  My stock options: worthless.

Which is not to say that I had a bad 30th birthday.  Spacebee did a wonderful job of tricking the living shit out of me.  I am so stupid, I was on the Booze Cruise and still not eating anything because I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for the non-forthcoming dinner at the Tornado Room.  The birthday tailgate was besieged by legions and legions of bees but we made the best of it.  Thirty people: one stung, which is pretty good, but the one was a small child which wasn’t so great.  He rubbed some metaphorical dirt on it and was on his way, though.  Someday I’ll actually have all the pictures I took up on Flickr, and when that happens I’ll post a link in comments.  Thanks to all who came (not you, CAL).  Props and slops.

I’m thinking of buying a years supply of food. Can’t be too careful, seeing as America’s GDP now hovers somewhere around $12.50 + gratuity.  Am I a paranoid sonuvabitch? Yes, most assuredly.  But I also worried about a housing bust a-way back in 2005, and worried about the stock market a-way back in January 2008.   Sometimes a paranoid motherfucker is right about shit.  Sometimes.

I know you all come here solely for my wit and motherfucking wisdom, so I’ll try to post more.  That is, if the mole men haven’t taken over the country yet of course.

Raffle-Man

I was entered in the following raffles at Elburn Days this weekend:

• Three entries into the $20,000 or 2008 Chevy Malibu LTZ
• Two entries into the $3,000 vacation package (or cash) Firemen’s Raffle
• Upwards of a dozen entries into the Elburn Basketball 30″ JVC Flat Screen raffle

As of press time I have not heard that I won any of them.  A man can dream.

Tim and I played bingo for about an hour today and I BINGO’d one time, butso did another guy and I only won $25.  One lady won after 4 numbers were drawn (horizontal across the middle).

We ran the Elburn Days 5K on Saturday morning (after staying in the beer tent late on Friday night).  I limped in with an embarassing 33:30, which I suppose isn’t bad considering that my ‘training’ was to run 1.5 miles on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of last week.  Say lah vee.

No segue: if you have an XBox 360 I highly reccommend the games Braid and Geometry Wars 2.  Also: Too Human comes out this week.  I got the demo last week and that game is damn awesome; I’m definitely picking it up.

No segue again: Wednesday is the semi’s and finals for our summer volleyball league.  We’re seeded second and our first game starts at 7pm (champeenship at 9pm).  We played kinda like garbage last week, so it’ll be interesting to see if we can finish off what was a pretty good season.

RAHHR!

What was I talking about? Bluegill? Fuck that– s’all about TROUT now, holmes.  Two weeks ago Lawman and I went out to Salmo Pond and I hooked some bass while he brought in three nice trout.  He even gave me one to take home and cook and it was delicious.  I can’t wait to go out there again.

This weekend wasn’t it, though, as Spacebee and I went on another World Tour from Madison down to Aurora, IL and then back up to Racine for a Memorial Day Cookout & Beer Pong Spectacular.  That was fun games day/brat patty fest.  And speaking of brats, we also hit Brat Fest over at the Alliant Energy Center on Saturday.  Every year that thing gets a little more extravagent– this year they had carnival rides, two music stages, a gigantic condiment tent, and KAYAK RIDES.  Dollar fifty brats ain’t bad neither.

On the way home from Racine we stopped at Potowatami so Spacebee could turn in her silver key for a “chance to win” $100,000.  I’m quoting it because it’s stretching things like plastic man with his dick stuck in his zipper to say that that fucking travesty is even a contest.  In this “contest” they will announce a $1,000 winner every day at 8am and 8pm from now until June 19th.  The catch: you not only have to present to win the $1000, but you have to check in within SEVEN MINUTES or they will pick a new name.  Now, let’s just say you manage to sprint from wherever you are in the casino to where you have to check in.  You get your 1K, and then you get to pick from 3 magical fucking treasure chests.  One of them has a golden ticket, which gets you an entrance to the Grand Prize drawing.  Of course, you also must be present to win the $100,000 grand prize.  I don’t know, but presume, that you must claim it within 13 seconds if you are announced as the winner.  Of course, this is the same brand of Not-A-Contest Contest that we have seen so much from the Milwaukee Brewers (often in league with the very same sham casino).  Example: “If Dave Bush throws a no-hitter and the runs add up to 21 and JJ Hardy hits for the cycle in the 10th inning one lucky fan wins a $100 gift certificate to Dream Dance!”  Fuck you, Potowatami Bingo & Casino.

So, the Brewers suck this year.  I’m really, really leaning on the fact that they play 5 out of every 4 games on the goddamned road so far this year while the Cubs whup on Pitssburgh at home seemingly every other game, but who knows at this point.  The pitching rotation is a certified mess, the pen is already shitty, and up and down the lineup dudes can’t buy a hit.  That’s not a winning formula.  And now Melvin is picking up any old broke-dick dog free agent with a 102.7 ERA which should be a terrific solution to the woes.  I say someone coat a tack with roids and put it on Gagne’s clubhouse chair.  Or something.  I’m not even sure at this point.

Next week we’re camping up in Door County so I’ll be indisposed.  Either it will be a fun trip or I’ll be buried alive in a terrifying avalanche of spiders.  The former brings untold riches of stories and anecdotes; the latter brings horrific death and this story holding the front page in perpetuity.  Seeya, cowboy.

Bluegill Schmooblill

I’ve been busy the past week or so as work heats up and the weather turns milder. I hadn’t even seen wwhazz in a while, so last night lawman, he, and I had a bluegill feast to lighten up lawman’s possession limit. We mixed in some ramps/spinach/pasta fry and a nice big salad that changed wwhazz’s outlook on salads. Then we went to Joe’s Casino.

I got a new bike this week, and I’m getting it outfitted soon for some saddlebags and other storage stuff. Being without a car, it would be nice to be able to ride to the market and have a way to get a reasonable amount of groceries home with me. Plus it would be nice to be able to carry food and stuff when we go for trail rides without taking a bulky backpack along. Maybe I’ll post some pictures when I get the thing fully outfitted.

This is amusing.

The Brewers have been on a roller coaster of late. Two straight sweeps on the road, followed by a good 3 -out-of-4 from the then-division leading Cardinals at home, and they were on the verge of taking the series from the Dodgers when Guillermo Mota unloaded a big, stinky blown save on the mound in the top of the ninth. I wonder if he got a swirly in the clubhouse for that performance. Now the Brewers head to Boston in what will certainly be a horrific beatdown (though I do wish otherwise) by the Red Sox. The pitching just Isn’t There, and no matter how much Melvin and Attanasio talk up the rotation and the pen there just isn’t enough pitching on the team for them to go the distance in the fucking division let alone contend IN the playoffs. It would be nice to be a fan of a team where you don’t cringe in every single ninth inning where your team is winning.

Vegas 2008

So much news and junk to get to– let’s get right in to it (har).

The best parts of Vegas this trip were surely non-gambling related.  The Beatles LOVE show at the Mirage was entertaining, Spacebee and I rented out a cabana at the Mandalay pool for a day, and our 2nd Anniversary dinner at STRIPSTEAK in the Mandalay may just have been the best service (and food) that I have ever had in a restaurant.  We also followed my former boss’ advice and had lunch a tiny, blink-and-you’d-miss-it cafe in the Venetian.  The result: an incredible meal.  Back to STRIPSTEAK for a moment; I really can’t say enough about how well we were treated and how great our waitress was.  We arrived 30 minutes before our reservation and expected to wait at the bar, but they wished us a happy anniversary and whisked us right to our table.  They accommodated my request for one finger of scotch to go with my salad course, and the waitress suggested I try a cut called a Ribeye Cap which turned out to be quite good.  Finally, our dessert had ‘Happy Anniversary’ written the plate in chocolate.  Little pricey, but a great place.  I would definitely go again.

The worst parts of Vegas were gambling-related.  Every time I touched the dice (or bet on others who touched the dice) I got assraped, but it was nothing compared to the utter shitstorm that awaited me at the blackjack tables.  The runs were just horrendous, with dealers actually expressing their condolences to the degree that I was pounded.  11? Double down. Get a 3. Dealer 5? 6 underneath. 21.  It just wouldn’t stop, so I did.  As a matter of fact, the most FUN I had gambling in Vegas, even if I didn’t win, was playing roulette with spacebee down on Fremont Street at the Golden Nugget.  We also had a great time playing $3 craps at the Golden Gate, even though we didn’t win there.  I have to say, the dealers down on Fremont are more fun by a mile than the dour sons-of-bitches on the Strip.

Spacebee got me a rod and reel for an anniversary gift and I’m eager to go try it out on some unsuspecting fish.

The Sausage Race this year is on July 26th.  It just so happens that that is the day that I’ll be attending Spacebee’s cousin’s bachelor party.  The good news: it’s at the Brewer Game, so I’ll be there anyways.  Everyone else, though, click here to sign up.

Speaking of the Brewers, I saw first thing this morning that they jettisoned Turnbow.  Probably for the best; when dude gives up 6 runs in a game like Wednesday’s he’s probably not the one we want.  However, now that Gallardo’s injured again we’ve got Dave Bush back into the rotation. Hurrah (sarcasm).  I’m not sure what to think at this point in the season.  The Crew has yet to put together a good run or a big slide– it’s just kind of flat.  Maybe the bats just haven’t come alive yet, and if they’re above .500 with the way they’ve been hitting so far, they could be in for a quite a little run.  I’ll just leave it at that.

Thanks again to Maddddddddddddd for letting me crash at his place last week.  Sadly it will be the last time I get to see the Little Tycoons playset from his window as he will be packing up his rucksack and hopping the next boxcar to Seattle.  Happy trails you silly little hobo.  Last Friday me and scientist did have a boatload of fun playing Whazz Classic at the Nob Hill Tavern.  I was even on my way to -20 before a stroke limit bottled my potential and threw it in the sea.  Fuckin’ whazz. whizz.

So.  I’ve cross-crossed the United States the last two weeks on Midwest Airlines and I’m ready to settle in for a long summer’s nap.  We planned a camping trip up north in June, but other than that we’ll be rooted in Madison for the remainder, cap’n.  Stop by and sit for a spell; it’s right nice.

The One That Got Away

Due to my current geographical quandry I was unable to see Gagne give up back-to-back homers and a single to blow the sweep of the Reds, though I did get to hear all about it when I had the ESPN Phillies/Mets game on in the hotel room.  Say lah vee.  There, my blood pressure has returned to its semi-normal levels.

My flights kinda/sorta/really sucked.  From Madison to Kansas City I had the delight of sitting next to a larger lady with horrible BO. Seriously, she was like the Stink Monster from Lost or whatever.  On the second, longer leg of my journey I sat across the aisle from an older couple.  For more than half the flight they alternated standing in the aisle facing their seats doing knee bends and exercises while their asses came perilously close to my face.  I stoically read my book.  I did get in early to SFO yet all I did with my extra time was pay $5.68 for a Miller Lite and watch the dumb NBA Playoffs.  I would have gone down to do some gardening but I was scheduled to have dinner with a co-worker and his family.  That was good too, though, as I got some good ol’ Mexican food from Los Charros in Mountain View.

Starting on Wednesday I’ll be reporting LIVE from San Francisco at the Intuit Tech Forum.  Co-starring, The Madddddddddd Scientist or as we call him these days Worky McNoGamble.

Kruppin Ain’t, Kruppin Ain’t Easy Man

I had to wake up early this morning and get the apartment in order (and order some new coffee filters!).  For some reason, the financier of the apartment building we live in is randomly touring units?

Our lender requires an annual tour of the Tobacco Loft Apartments. We send a rent roll to the lender and ranom apartments are selected.

On — between 10:30 and 11:30am we will be conducting a tour of your apartment. I will accompany all who enter your home.

So some bean counters are going to be dusting for fingerprints or counting my socks or whatever– not sure.  It was a little tough waking early due to the Brewers dogged insistence on sucking last night.  We were over at the Main Depot and things got slightly-but-not-too out of hand when the new bartender-in-training was practicing making shots like ‘Red-Headed Slut’ and ‘Pussy Juice’.  Pussy Juice = Crown Royal, Pineapple Juice, Something Else.

Lawman has been hunting well for the perfect craps table for Joe’s and I can assure you he’s getting close.  Even spacebee is getting in on the action; she wants to ‘get good’ before we hit Vegas in a week and a half.  Nice: we’re either gonna lose all our money in the first 15 seconds or become fucking rich.  I wanna stay in that groovy suite with the bowling alley– AND THEN BOWL 10 FRAMES OF GUTTERBALLS.  Moo hoo ha ha.

Gotta run and hide my socks ‘n shit.

NerdFest 2008

Spacebee indulged me today and we went to Pegasus Games to do a little geek shopping.  She picked out some party game where people guess answers to trivia questions and then everyone places wagers on whose is correct.   I’m looking forward to mixing my destructuve love of gambling with a fun, party atmosphere.  I got a felt craps layout for Jack’s Casino, so there’s that, and then I picked up two World of Warcraft TCG Starter Decks.  Somehow I got spacebee to play a game with me; I liked it a lot, but when I asked her if she hated it her reply of, “no, I don’t hate it” didn’t really convince me.  I kinda wish I had more nerd friends to play nerd games with.  Sigh.  We’ll always have craps.  At any rate, I’m still planning on going to PAX this year in Seattle with alandovos so I’ll just build a deck so some Seattle Super Nerd can kick the holy fuck out of me.  Time to buy some booster packs.

After a disastrous Friday evening game the Brewers took the series from the Mets this weekend, which is awesome.  Sheets has been good in his outings this year, and the offense is clicking (even if Braun and Fielder are off to a slow start.)  I haven’t been to a game yet this year, and the upcoming trips to California and Vegas suggest it’s not in my immediate future.  Wwhazz/Lawman, what about sometime in May– wanna plan a Saturday or Sunday Brewer game?  Also: fishing.

Big Dinner Plus

The weekend flew by: Friday night at the casino, Saturday night with poker and UFC, and Sunday night with Big Dinner™. And thus we arrive, safe and sound, on the Monday of Thanksgiving week. It used to be Whazzgiving but history is writ by the victors, and that special alt-holiday has now fallen by the wayside. Spacebee and I will go on the Midwest World Tour starting on Wednesday, and we won’t be back until next Sunday so get yer fill.

Spacebee’s been having some frustrating work shifts, and I pissed her off by blowing out of town without telling her on Friday, so I endeavored to make it up to her last night by making an skrillion-course meal. I figured once she was incapacitated by food I could whisper sweet nothings in her ear, gaining her forgiveness. So I did appeteazers including the Mushroom Puffies (half order) and Pita Chips n’ Hummus, followed by an apple cider-brined, mesquite-smoked pork tenderloin, roasted butternut squarsh, and asparagus and prosciutto risotto. Finally, I made a homemade chocolate chip cookie pie with ice cream. I am happy to report that my girlfriend was rolling around on the floor due to her fullness by the end.

Wednesday = snow forecast = BOO!

Finally, I found a neat-o web site today called Walk Score where you can enter your address and find the ‘walkability’ of your neighborhood. The scale goes from 0 (need a car for everything) to 100 (you can easily live there without a car). My current address rates a 72 out of 100, which is classified as ‘Highly Walkable’. That sounds good to me, because I’m going to list my Tahoe on craigslist.com soon to get rid of it. It was the single worst decision of my entire life, and I am going to try to rectify it if I can. So, uh, anyone want a 2003 Tahoe for $10,000? Hit me up, I’m dealin’.

Here Comes The Putter Thr– Wait, He Stopped

The past two days have been Dude Central at my place. My brother drove up from Racine on Tuesday and that night him, myself, and wwhazz played in the aforementioned poker tourney.

This week was ok, not great. Wwhazz busted out first (he was feeling ‘fuzzy’) and my brother lasted until right after the second break. I went out 16th, just after we broke down to two tables. When we hit four tables, I was chip leader at the table, but from four to two tables my stack stayed exactly the same while everyone else built up mountains of chips. This resulted in me running some plays to try to pick up blinds (not all at once or anything, maybe two plays in 45 minutes). Both times I did it, the blinds woke up with AK and pocket pair, respectively. At the time we hit two tables, I had horrible table image due to no quality showdowns + the bad plays that I had to give up on. So, with the 1000-2000 blinds about to hit me and a stack of ~6500 chips I just pushed with K8 and got called by TT. Say lah vee.

I ventured upon my brother and wwhazz playing the 1-2 NL game. My first hand: KK. I took some money from wwhazz with his AQ, but the rest of the table showed me respect. A couple of hands later I raised it up with JJ (not nearly enough though) and pushed ($65-ish) on the T83 flop. One dude called with his 8T offsuit that he called my raise with, and my bro called with nut flush draw. Brother rivered the flush; good for him. That was it for me. Wwhazz was begging me for booze $$ by the end.

My bro and me also played two rounds of golf: nine holes at university Ridge on Wednesday morning and 18 at Odana Hills this morning (Thursday). Yesterday was pretty fun; even when you’re sucking hind tit at the Ridge, at least it’s beautiful. I beat my brother pretty soundly, but he was having a really off day. We went out later and got him his early birthday present: a fancy new driver… which he used to whip the holy living fuck out of me on the golf course this morning. I four-putted the first hole, and then flung my putter about 100 yards towards the next tee box. I proceeded to play the worst round of my life, yet at some point in the middle I made eagle on a 460 yard par 5. By the back nine I was in a bad mood again, and lost 6 balls on the 15th hole, Joe Pesci-style (“Hit me. [face card] Fuck you. Hit me. [face card] Take that fucking card, and shove it up your ass. Hit me. [face card]“). I feel kinda foolish for acting a fool, but whatever, I fucking four-putted. Ride or die.

This weekend is All Crazy, All The Time. The Sausage Rage is Saturday, and I wouldn’t be surprised if our award for finishing is an ice-pick in the balls. Anything To Fuck You Over: that’s the Milwaukee Brewer’s promotional model. I guess we should have guessed that they wouldn’t take success that well. I mean, they’ve got groups-of-twenty-five-or-more tickets to sell, why should they give a fuck about the people who were buying the tickets and going to the sausage race when only 2000 hobos attended a weekday game?

Sunday my family is going to the game since my dad got the company tickets. I’ll hollar and yell at Barry Bonds for all of you. Afterwards is a family pic-a-nic. Should be fun, whazzmaster.com. HOLLLLARIT.