Mic Check

I know I'm behind a few hours in the posting of my tremendous Saturday night, but I'm back on getting what I can when I can. So lay off, ya bastids.

Heh.

Anyhow, for the second time in two weeks I spent one night at a baller-ass club only to be immediately followed the next day by spending the next day in a dive bar. This says something about me but arsed if I can figure out what it is exactly.

I got there a little late, so I only got 3 songs. For everybody drooling in anticipation over the setlist, please make sure you are seated.

1) What I Diggity Say - Bangers And Mash ("What I Say", instrumental/"No Diggety", vocal)
2) Black Beatles - Loo & Placido ("Let's Get It Started" (i)/"Run For Your Life" (v))
3) Don't Stop Believin' In Planet Rock - A plus D ("Planet Rock" (i)/"Don't Stop Believin'" (v)

Tracks will be sent to interested parties upon request. Anyways, I met a few awesome, awesome people in the earlier part of the evening.

One of them is named Kallao, who in addition to spinning his own sets during the evening is a local DJ of one of the radio stations I actually liked before the Pod came. He got the fun shot of me above. (Note to self: next time you wear the Ramones shirt maybe you want to work Jimmi James' "Hey Ho Wonderwall" in there somewhere!)

Another one is DJ Riko, who moved here from Columbus in the recent past. In his defense, it was Columbus and this is San Diego. Anyway, Riko probably would get top billing for the evening trackwise, and was really low key and detached for someone who earned a spot in the '05 Best of Bootie mixtape that was #1 And The Best For The Year. I believe I'm going to get some shots from his camp of me getting down--and you may even get some video footage of yours truly doing a few seconds of breakdancing. Weep, puny mortals. Fucking weep.

Also, I met Adam from Cover Me Badd's Blasphemous Guitars. I'd talked to everybody through CrackSpace but this was the first time we'd all met met in the 3-D world and they couldn't've been more welcoming or awesome. Adam even had the class to be at least feigned upset when I mentioned after the show during the Johnny Cash cover medley (a reggae cover of "Hurt" which was worth the price of admission alone/"Personal Jesus"/"Rusty Cage") I'd expected the Depeche Mode homage portion to be accompanied by a HAPPY FUCKING EASTER! Hey, the man said during a Christmas medley on local TV "Do we have time to introduce our dancers, Misletoe and Camel--no?" I'd just assumed. But anyway, they blew the doors off the joint and outside of Danny & Victoria who are probably talking about this on the Uncast as I type the rest of the of the local crowd disguised themselves pretty effectively as vapor. Their fucking loss. Who needs action when you've got words, right?

(Please don't point out the irony of me using that quote during a blog post.)

It got over 100 people to a dive bar, pretty remarkably. And there are talks about doing it again before the next scheduled one to kick off August.

So, in honor of one of my new friends, I would like for you to raise your fist in the air. Adam's having some relationship difficulties.

P.S. Don't be surprised to see another template change; Opera's been uppity and I get shanked on putting up picture sizes? Funk dat!

Cover Me Badd's Blasphemous Guitars[GIRLFRIEND WITH AN ADDICTION (live but not from Saturday night)]

My Name's Not Mitchell Or Ness But I Throwback Like The Best Of Them

There is still a thin row of sweat going across my head. I keep coughing up what appears to slime in quarter and dime-sized increments. My neck is sore, and my back is a little off.

These are not stress-reduced ailments with the imminent return of the family; it's because I caught wreck again last night. I made a last second decision to go out again--empty house or not, it's still Friday night and I'm still 28, single, and semi-decent looking. I went to a one of my favorite usual spots and Jen the Hottest Bartender In the County had the night off at Confidential. Fortunately, the smoked bacon mini quesadillas were as good as ever. There was a cute girl named Megan in her place who's into baseball. (Previous sentence for Aaron.) I went down the block and as I stand on the corner someone asks me where Aubergine is. I happen to be going to Aubergine, so I get to lead them the rest of the way. It was hilarious for the four blocks we were together. I even pulled the "you kids back there better settle down or I'll turn this thing around and nobody'll go to Disneyland this year!" card.

And then we got there and then I had to pay. I hadn't paid a full cover in about 2 years. It blew. I jokingly brought it up to my DJing buddy, and he gave me half cover and hooked me up with some VIP stuff in the future. He put on "It Takes Two" when I asked for it, and I reciprocated with the Running Man.

Bitches loves the Running Man.

This sort of thing is what we in the writing industry call foreshadowing.

So Mikey kills his hour-and-a-half set, and the guys I made friends with bounce in the other room, and I make some friends in there, and I get my fill in before I'm about to bounce and catch the last bus back to the vicinity of here. But Mikey stops me, and then it happens.

We take a couple doors backstage, and then bang I'm on stage. The bass is ridonkulous. I can feel it vibrating through me. I gave a few head nods to my buddies at the front with a little "Hey, lookit me" smirk. And it's about 1, so the club is SRO at this point. Also at this point, I can see Mikey whispering to the DJ, Scooter, and he nods at me. In the immortal words of Tyler Durden, I knew the rest of the story before he even told it to me.

Let Us Take You Back To Earlier In The Night At Confidential, during which in conversation between pitches at the Padres game down the block I may have mentioned the Turk Dance seen earlier in the week at this site.

Now he slows down "Welcome To Jamrock" and naturally everybody starts looking towards the stage and it's Scooter on the decks, Mikey with a big shit-eating grin on his face, and me.

Fortunately for me, I'd had 4 beers.

The BBD groove hits and you'd think with like 500 people in front of you I would've focused on that but in my head it was all "Hit the steps. Hit the steps. Right over left." But I can say once I hit the hand clap and went behind the back the shit was officially on. It was nearly an out-of-body experience: the bass just creating a breeze, making sure early I hit the steps, hearing a metric shitload (scientific term) of people yelling GO GO GO at me. At that point, as everybody sang the bridge, it got to the chorus and it was Running Man time again.

This may be literally the most fun I've had with all my clothes on.

My friends in the front are about to fall over. This birthday girl Carmen who was friends with Scooter in this low-cut black top is jumping up and down so much I saw areola.

And I'm thinking to myself, "You know, I'm not the mayor, but I could probably fill in in a pinch."

So hopefully in a few hours, I get that feeling of joy back. And that first paragraph is going to magically disappear, if only for a while.

Alanis Morissette [MY HUMPS]

You Don't Need To Follow Baseball To Know Cards

Around this time last year--possibly '05, I can't be arsed to remember at this point--Topps released a very limited edition poker set with NBA legends, rookies, and current all-stars. While I didn't have enough to cop the whole set I did have the pocket change to score a George Gervin for my dad and a Clyde Frazier for myself.

Last time I lost in a cash game for the first time since I started playing. I'm usually not superstitious. But then tonight happened, and I'm not so sure.

Clyde ran his undefeated streak to seven or eight with some muhfuggin AUTHORITAH behind it, as I quadrupled up off of my original buy-in to make $40 in my second-biggest profit ever.

Let me amend: I'm usually not superstitious, except when it comes to poker 8x in a row.

There weren't any spectacular plays on my part, and I'm sorry to say for those of you who try to following my quote/unquote career I don't remember a lot of hands. (Mainly just the all-in two pair against my unbeatable nut Ace-high flush.) I played loose-passive, but I'm proud because my original plan was loose-aggressive and then when I got out ahead of the pack I managed to slow myself down and get some straights and flushes on lackluster hands I usually don't fuck with. After that, it was just a big fat hurry up and wait.

Add this with all the freedom, the brand new speakers that work, and my tax refund coming in? Yeah, today rocked the house.

Bring April to me, and I will make it kneel.

Especially if she's pretty.

Son Of A Preacher Man Dusty Springfield

That's Why I've Done It Again

6 hours sleep in 2 days.

Wasn't a problem when my 2 pair beat top pair and second pair to force a showdown I had a 3:1 advantage in.

Wasn't a problem winning 80% of the heads-up, usually where I'm weakest.

Wasn't a problem flopping top pair when he went all-in with second pair.

3 months.

3 tournament wins.

Good heavens.   Could it be I'm getting no no no notorious?

This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race Fall Out Boy

And The Friday Barometer's Heart Expanded Three Times That Day

Leaving aside the guy who was just interested enough in the digicam to make an appointment and then completely blow it off, today is a fine, fine day.

Thirdly, my friends are SROing the birthday party next week. Some cute girls, too.

Let us pray.

Secondly, milling around downtown, I met Ryan Hansen. THE Dick Casablancas.

Yes, again. See?


SHOCKER! They were filming at a college, and it turns out Ryan is very impressed with my Brooke Burke wallpaper. The one worrying thing is the look on his face when I revealed I was the guy who got his arm signed. I can only wonder what stories have been told on set. Tragically, I was so overcome by the moment that I forgot to invite the cast to my birthday party. Now that would've been a damn scene and a half.

And ultimately I got home from all of that to find out KS & Rob tag teamed back again to get me the iPod of my dreams. Even if my brother beat me to it by a few weeks, it's par excellence, as the French would say. So I have to figure it out before I get some belts at the bar and hit the casino and decide if I'm going to hit the club for free tomorrow night the week before the real partay or not.

MAN.

Like the kid in Almost Famous said: it's all happening.

Welcome to Jamrock Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley

I Want To See The Sun Blotted Out By The Sky

1) Fits my horrible luck and bad mood.

2) Victor's is pretty.

3) Jen's is pretty.

4) Looks oh-so-very badassed.

5) Felt like it.

So that's why.

Push It (Salt-N-Pepa)/Connection (Elastica) Girl Talk live in Chicago New Year's Eve/Day

Validation!

I entered the same type of tournament my modem bounced me from last night. 360 entered with the hopes of advancing to Round 2, to eventually get on TV and $25,000.

Results with a functioning modem?

Here's my PBP of the final table (even 9th out of 360 would've been worth it...ish):

I doubled up a guy when he made a straight on the river as I made Kings up, Queens down. Bounce somebody to get to 2nd. Bounce somebody else. First place.

We get down to 6 and he ups himself through me again. Still in the lead until he bounces a guy.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif.

He makes a full house to beat a straight and two pair.

THREE.

We've got about 85k each, he's got about 400k with the double homicide.

Set of fives take me to 115.

Wired 9s to get to 180.

They fold, wasting my pocket Queens. I swear to give their children lymphoma.

7s and 8s to get me to 215.

Queen-high straight. 235.

I am feeling it, Evel.

I have 75suit. 3 overcards. Don't matter--high pair. 255.

If my 6s...and the board pairs 9s...280...I feel fine...

Fold my 9s and 5s. Down to 220. He had a full damn house. GFL #5, at least. In retrospect, I have just made the most important play of the tournament. By losing.

Siphon off the small stack, 240.

6Aoff.

Flop is K.

SIX.

SIX.

Then there are 2.

272 (me) - 267 (him who has had my number twice, other than the last GFL).

Ooh.

One hand, with my KAoff.

He has fives.

Eight.

Eight.

Two.

ACEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Some three hours and change later, I got myself my first-ever first place tournament finish. 359 and the Dark Horse rode past alllllll their asses!

Tell Kataneh to bring it on.

And after that we can play some poker.

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is Jet (this thing is sentient)

Finally! Finally! BAH GAWD, Finally!

I'm sure some of you with jobs and significant others may wonder why I'm so much better that Time felt it necessary to honor me instead of you. A few reasons come to mind.

• I still have never made a purchase from Starbucks.
• I didn't bring sexyback; when you remain something, the necessity of bringing it back is none.
• I completely should've shattered the time-space continuum; instead, you all still live.
• By keeping the #21 powder blue freezer crisp, LaDainian Tomlinson is having the best season in the history of recorded sports.
• I was into Girl Talk before you.
• Propelled YouTube and MySpace into the stratosphere when normal people would've polished their resumes.
• By sheer force of thought, got NewsRadio reruns back on the air.
• Am currently about 60 pages into this novel, which we'll call the first.
• Thought a shitload of Republicans should be forced from office before it became trendy.
• STILL the Best Running Man in the County.
• Renamed my blog to reference the Roots.
• 14 shots of Goose. Amount of vomit: 0.
• Named my fantasy football team the T.Overdose, and then watched them fail to make the playoffs. That's right, I sacrificed a season for hilarity and accuracy.
• Am a black male, lived to see 27, and still don't have an arrest record.
• Didn't write horribly crappy song just to get Petra Nemcova and cheat on her later.
• Property of Kristen Bell. Even now.
• Despite never being asked to do so, always provided the kids with a positive role model.

American Idiot Green Day