"You Boys Creamin' Tonight?"

The idle chit-chat continued while we waited patiently for our waitress to take down our order at the International House of Pancakes in Everett.

"Did you see that beer I chugged? I didn't throw up this time!" Said Craig "I paid the price though, I was passed out for hours!" Craig was known for being a two beer queer, so he was really proud of his accomplishments tonight. 

"Guys, I can't believe those nachos we just ate at the party, they were so good; they reminded me of of Tijuana back when I was just a little niño. Ah, muy bueño.." spoke Ed, remeniscing fondly of his childhood back in Mexico. He started speaking of piñatas or something Mexican before being interupted by Patty, our order-placing technician here at IHOP.

"What'll it be tonight, boys?" she asked with a smile. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The seven of us huddled around our makeshift table, waiting for our food to arrive. I glanced around the table with my sharp, hawk-like eyes, spying a round dish with several small, almost cone shaped plastic packages residing inside: Coffee cream packets. I averted my eyes but it was too late, Anthony noticed the gleam shining in my eye. 

"Heh, Hey Dan, " He started, with a slight smirk on his face "I bet I could chug more cream packets than you can. Ha ha!"

The noisy IHOP filled to capacity hushed instantly. 

"EEEEWERPPPPPP" - the token record player suddenly screeched to a deafening halt, a classic environmental response  signaling that someone had said something outlandish and insulting. The IHOP restaurant patrons all stared in complete silence.

"Er..heh...what?" I responded, as coy and humble as possible. 

"Haha, you heard me man! I can drink more of those cream packets there than you can!", Said Anthony, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation.

I don't think he realized. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into.

It has been such a long time since my days of creamin'. I hadn't been on a cream binge since, well, the Soviet Union collapsed. I retired after Igor "Cream of the Russian Crop" Svoransky went down in a sea of cream following my win at the World Wide Cream Off Invitational (WWCOI). My days in the sun were done, it was behind me now.

But after becoming the coffee creamer champ for my country, could I really accept this grudge match from a dear friend? I promised my parents no more cream offs - they were concerned for my approaching-deadly lactose levels. But there are more important things than life and death; There's a man's pride. My pride, to be specific. 

I reached out and grabbed the cream, tore off the dainty, foil lid and sent the creamy white liquid to its final home: my stomach. "It's on, bitch." 

The IHOP diners erupted with murmur and ecstatic shouting, breaking the awkward silence from before. 

"CREAMMMMMM OFFFFFFF!" Word was getting out about what was to soon take place. 

The adjacent tables around us cleared out within seconds. No one wanted to get cream all over them, that stuff just doesn't wash out unless you scrub really hard. We all had to make our sacrifices. A crowd formed around our table, encircling us with a myriad of onlookers, eager to see two men embbaras - er, compete for dignity by drinking packets of cream. 

Wads of cash were being flung out of pockets, landing in sports bookies bet pools. I saw an asian man with an eyepatch smoking a cigarette lay odds on our match. I also saw the gun in his pocket. This was no time for jokes.

Word got out to the streets, people marching towards the IHOP trying to press their face to the glass just to catch a glimpse of what was to go down. The news later reported that two unfortunate children were trampled by the masses, a funeral service would be held the next day. TV helicopters buzzed in the air around us, documenting this historic Cream Off where I come out of retirement. Riot police were stationed around the crowd, beating back the frenzy. Did Anthony really know what he was getting into?

But that all didn't matter. If a man gets caught up in the hype and publicity associated with drinking coffee cream packets, then he's already lost. Creaming, as we say in the business, is a strict endurance battle of the mind. The stomach is only a biproduct of the will to win. 

Anthony jumped in head first. Down the cream went, he had matched me. I took another and repeated the process. The battle was underway. 

Cream packets were being handled like pez: A quick rip of the seal and down the hatchett. Anthony, still startled by the severity of the situation, did a good job of keeping pace. We went cream for cream, the fight raged. With each cream chugged, memories resurfaced of my heydays of creamin. They weren't memories I was proud of, but if you're good at something, you do it. They didn't call me "Ole Iron Stomach" for nothing. 

How many cream packets were we at? Hard to say, the cream was starting to take its toll. "They're at 25 creams each!", I heard a spectator yell. 

                                                

"Ha, that looks so stupid, let me beat them" said Craig, slapping a cocky grin on his face. He reached from the cream pile, opened one up, and let it pour down his throat. He looked smug. 

"That wasn't bad at all..", he started. A thick stream of vomit then propelled from his mouth, infused with white. Yeah, some people just aren't cut ouf for this. The paramedics ambulanced him away, unsure of he'd make it alive to the hospital.

"30 creams now, wow, they're not stopping!"

I looked over at my competitor, Anthony. He looked back at me with intesity. It had been a while since I had seen such a fierce look on the kids innocent face. This challenge... it had changed him. I exposed one of my very friends to the world of creaming. My god, what have I done?

"Hey Anthony" I yelled over the spectators roar " How about we call it even after the next cream, eh pal?"

Anthony smiled, a silent rush of relief washed over his face.

"I'd like that very much", he said with a grin. 

With that, we did cheers with our cream packet, and downed our final cream in unison. The battle was over, we had a tie at 31 creams each. 

The crowd let out a less than enthusiastic moan, most likely because they had vast amounts of money riding on our match. Although they were dissapointed with the outcome, they managed to give the competitors a healthy round of applause at the valiant display of consumption they had just witnessed. Not everyone can humiliate and degrade themselves as they had just done. 

A wizened old man approached me. 

"My friend, "He said in a thick european accent " I have but only my two finest daughters to give to you out of respect. Please, show them a glimpse of heaven by sexing them up."

I smiled. " I will accept your offer, old man. It would be my honor."

With that, I walked out of the IHOP amidst the myriad of onlookers. Children holding up posters and cereal boxes with me on the cover, begging for me to sign them. I  refused, "Is my check in the mail?" I ask rhetorically asked the kids. No, they're stupid children who can't appreciate a celebrities time. 

I hopped into my brand new BMW with the beautiful ladies in tow. " Oh Danny, " they say with passionate looks in their eyes " won't you please satisfy us like no man has done before."

"Hold on ladies," I said in my manliest and, ironically enough, my normal voice " I have some unfinished business to take care of."

With that, I pulled out a cream packet from my pocket and peeled off the lid.

"Sorry Anthony, but I never lose. Here's to 32..."

The cream fell to the same fate as its brethren, down my throat and into the dark pit of my stomach, forever lost to the world in which it came cementing my victory. I drove off into the sunset with a smile, asphalt still smoking from the sick peel out I did leaving the parking lot. 

Just another day in the life. 

Taxes Might Get "High"er

Well, I hate to sound like a stereotypical "pothead" excessively advocating his political and philosophical rights in America, but an interesting bill has been proposed to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts aimed to legalize and tax Marijuana. 

Now, this may come as a surprise to many people that Massachusetts is now on "Crazy Hippy Liberal" level with such fierce competitors such as the state of California and our ultimate contender The Netherlands, but surprisingly Massachusetts is leading the way in America with very outspoken and somewhat revolutionary legal and political triumphs. This new bill proposed, which I will get into later, is just another example of the renegade lawmakers we have fighting for justice here in our fine state. I am proud to live in a time of rich political revolution in terms of social stances and thoughts. Put yet another notch in the belt for Massachusetts' rich history. 

Anyways, here is the link for the blog which formally introduced the bill :

http://blog.norml.org/2009/03/23/norml-breaking-news-marijuana-legalization-bills-introduced-in-massachusetts/

Obviously, the blog might be a bit biased in terms of media presence, seeing as it is a Marijuana advocacy group, but it clearly outlines the bills proposed and the information about it. 

How do I feel about this? Well, rather mixed, I guess. In short, I don't think it will pass, despite my passion for the underdog, especially when the underdog is a plant that makes you feel good when inhaled/eaten/put up your asshole. However, let me weigh some pros and cons in the political sense that may impact the outcome this proposed bill.

Why This Bill Might Pass:

1.)  Massachusetts has (as stated before)  achieved new political triumphs compared to other states in America.

-  The election of Governer Patrick Duval, the commonwealth's first black state governer. 

-  Last year, a bill passed and is now in effect to decriminalize Marijuana from a felony to Misdemeanor, extremely limiting the effects it has on your criminal record.

-  Gay Marriage, yet another heavily contested political dispute, has been legalized in Massachusetts, the first state in America to do so. 

2.) Marijuana prohibition is rapidly phasing out as more and more scientific research notes that there are minor, certainly not life threatening,  side effects from smoking/eating/sticking it up your ass.

3.) Social Stigmas are changing as our society develops, into a more liberal and fact oriented one. - We have an older generation, believe it or not, who were around when other revolutionary ideas were being proposed. They actually comprise a large amount of Massachusetts' residents percentage and bring with them an otherwise more liberal outlook than the rest of our nation. These people, as well as our younger and college generation (which Massachusetts is in abundance of) will heavily determine the outcome of the bill if it is actually passed to voters. 

4.) This bill means money for the state. Marijuana will be taxed (pretty high actually, no pun intended) which means that revenue for the state will most likely greatly increase. For those who didn't read the article posted above, there will be growing, selling, and transportation taxes associated with Marijuana. 

Why I Don't Think It Will Pass:

1.) Crazy bills like this are introduced all of the time, especially in our state of Massachusetts. Basically, we can have any Joe on the street propose and outline a bill in a suitable format and present it to our lawmakers for decisions. However, it is those lawmakers who inevitably decide which bills come to vote, let alone passing.

2.) The Federal Government might step in to intervene if this bill gets too "Out of Hand". 

- As we all know (hopefully) there is a local (state) government and a national (federal) government, somewhat seperated but all acting under the good of the United States. However, Federal government has precedence over the state, so they can override any decision if Congress sees fit. Seeing the legacy of the "War on Drugs" this might be a realistic scenario if the Federal government decides to act on it. 

3.) There is still a social stigma attached to Marijuana, even through more recent societal fact findings. 

- There are still to be more medical discoveries uncovered during use of Marijuana and the effects it has on your personality, society, and the environment you live in. Like it or not, Marijuana can easily be advocated as a gateway drug, and almost rightfully so: it usually introduces a person to the world of mind altering substances and, depending on the person, they may choose to get more involved with them. Ultimately, I feel, it depends on the intelligence of the person, which unfortunately is generally poor. Anecdotal evidence like the above will continue to fuel the prohibition of Marijuana. 

The bill has been proposed, it is now up to the lawmakers to decide what to do with it. It could be cast aside like a lot of others, I'm sure. However, if you are interested in seeing this pass, please write your representative, bringing to him the attention of this bill and your support/unsupport of it. I don't care what stance you take on the issue, we live in America and it's your own right to choose, so do whatever you feel is necessary regarding this bill. Information about writing to your representative is included in the above link, along with the whole outline of the bill. I encourage you to read more and get involved. 

Exclusive Offer

Free Market runs rampant throughout modern day America, where the everyday Joe can prosper if he has a money making idea and runs with it. Today, I am that Joe. 

As some may know, this blog has become more and more popular as the days wear on. In this day and age, ad revenue goes a long way in fueling a man's income, especially on the web. So far, I have abstained from doing so, for love of my readers and their viewing pleasure, but I know a good business deal when I see one, and that's what this blog entry is about. 

I am offering a lucky individual the chance to buy my blog. 

Not worth it, you say? Let me run a quick figure by you...

Boom, your mind has been blown. 

Thanks to the folks at http://www.websitevaluecalculator.com/ , I now have a very professional and accurate estimate as to the worth of my blog. 

But, the deal gets better: I am willing to part ways with this incredible investment of a blog for a mere 50 dollars! That's almost a 326% discount!

"Dan, what the fuck man, you're screwing yourself over here! Don't do this to yourself! You'll be in economic ruin, giving it away this cheap!", you're saying, before blowing your brains out with a gun because this deal is just too good to handle. 

No, this deal comes out of the kindness of my heart, and there is nothing better than seeing the look on someone's face when they buy their first blog. Ah, the innocence. 

Let's go over some of the excellent benefits you'll receive from buying my blog:

1.) Using your artistic and creative abilites to relay whatever thoughts you may have on whatever issue you like, having the world able to view it with a simple mouse click!

2.) Have a safe channel of venting or responsible coping with difficult issues that may present themselves by writing about it! Columbine would not have happened if that loser were given a blog instead of a gun!

3.) Social networking! The internet is a big and wild place, there are many people that may or may not share your idealogies, but there's only one way to find out! Blog and find other bloggers that you both can blog about blogging together! 

4.) You will get laid and be more attractive to the opposite sex! There is nothing more attractive to a person than knowing that they will put whatever nonsense that goes on in their head on the internet! I have been been laid 16 times because of this - Last night!

I could go on and on, I really could. But, I know I don't have to. You know how good of a deal this is, and I don't have to say anymore. All it takes is fifty bucks and it's yours, no questions asked, just a normal business transaction - except it's not because I'm knowingly ripping myself off here. You can either have the money paypaled to me, or cash in hand if you prefer. 

For contact information, please contact me on aim or through email. A fair warning though, this deal is going fast so respond immediately!

Sometimes I Am Serious, Sometimes Caring

I'd like to take a quick break from the juvenile and immature ramblings of my blog to say something on a more serious and sensitive subject. Alliteration, anyone?

As some may know, I have been performing my co-op (cooperative education, a glorified internship giving me school credit) at the software/hardware corporate giant EMC². Here, without going into excessive detail, I basically test our top-of-the-line software for bugs and quality, to ensure our customers recieve the best software they can get. 

Anyways, I had received an assignment from my project manager that I would also pick up another task and set of responsibilities. I would be coordinating with Israel and Bangalore, India to set up their lab environment here in Massachusetts for testing of software not yet out. This involves some tedious, yet fairly simple lab management, and to help me in my efforts I met a co-worker by the name of Erik. 

Erik helped me learn the material, as he had helped out in this project before hand and I was basically inheriting his work. So, we eventually got to talking, and became the status of "friendly co-workers". It was during this time that he also went into detail about his baby issues, namely having dealt with a pre and post natal condition entitled "Preeclampsia". 

It turns out he was affected by this disorder, and became very involved with the community  because of it. Seeing as he is tech-savvy, he decided to become even more involved by volunteering as their network admin/network coordinator. He also happened to mention that he was looking for a bit of help with the volunteer work, and specifically mentioned that I would be a suitable candidate. 

I've always wanted to help with charity or help other people (believe it or not)  with no tangible rewards, so I found this opportunity delightful. Here, I could help people suffering, researching, and helping others cope with this Preeclampsia condition using my tech background/skillset. Although the job will primarily comprise of very easy tasks, such as managing user accounts and simple email administration, we are preparing for a website migration. I will be looking through proposals sent to us from web site developers and do our best to select the most cost efficient and effective proposal we can. 

For just a little background information, Preeclampsia organization is a NON-PROFIT organization, depending entirely on donations made by grass-roots (individuals offering donations) or corporate donations. Using this budget we contribute to extensive funding for medical research and (hopefully) optimizing our site to spread the word about this medical condition. 

For further knowledge, not that you might be interested, please visit the website at  http://preeclampsia.org/ . There might be a chance that you may be affected by this in the future, or that you know somebody dealing with this. And please, feel free to donate!

Ok, that ends the serious talk. How funny would it be if that was one elaborate goatse? So you read all that and your heart was touched. You wanted to throw any money you can to aid these poor infants and families. You have your credit card in hand and you gather your family around to watch you contribute to a worthy cause - then BAM! Goatse all over your screen, scarring everyone's eyes. 

Yeah, I laughed. 

DONATE!

Too Premature to Party

Editor's note: I apologize to my hardcore fanbase (there are none) for my lack of updates. I am a busy man.

As of late, the weekends have been filled with parties.  Usually, they are either parties hosted by Northeastern students or found in the party neighborhoods of Allston, usually by BU students. Well, this past Saturday Al Wong and I decided to hit the town so we went to Allston. Little known to us, though, was that some kids we went to High School with were hosting a party and, after getting a call from Alex Mendez, we were on our way to this new adventure. 

However, let me stop right here for a quick second. (Is there such a thing as a quick second?) The following story is down right disgusting, offensive, and above all else, extremely hilarious. You have been warned. 

The truth is, this entry is not about the party we went to, but rather a kid that stumbled into this party and had, let's say, an accident. 

For a little backstory, we ended up showing to this party. It was decent, but it's not something I would write home about. This crowd was an assortment of punks, hipsters, but overrall cool people. So we ended up drinking, chilling, smoking, and catching up with a few people I recognized from Quincy High School. 

Fast forward some drinks later and Al, Ed, and I are chilling on the porch. We notice the rather flamboyount party across the street (there was a gay alliance flag waving proudly atop their porch) so Al decides that we should try that one out to see what is up. I oblige and we head over there. I light up a cigarette and let Al head in first, as he is clearly the most drunk. (A side note, he had a cup in which he mixed a 1/4 cup of vodka with a coors light; a stunning concoction that is sure to lead to getting acquainted with the toilet). Al stumbles up the steps before a crowd of onlookers that just watched him cross the street into their party.

"Hey, what's up - I just moved in...trying to see what's goin on in here."

He is recieved with a mixed welcome as I turn and see a police squad car pull up right next to this house. The cops get out and the people partying on the porch usher inside like cockroaches escaping the impending broom. The police walk by us and ask if we are 21, a question I can safely answer. The cops walk up the steps and start knocking on the door, shouting for the people inside to open up. They do not and it seems they are at a stalemate as Ed and I look on.

It was at this time that two gentlemen, presumabely our age, came down from the porch (before the police arrived) and approached us as we watched the spectacle with the cops. There was a kid in jeans and a black shirt with moppy hair, and a more preppier kid alongside him. 

"What the fuck is your problem, man" said moppy haired kid in dark. "We didn't want you guys showing up because of the fucking cops". 

They both looked intent on fighting so I started flexing my pecs a little bit, you know, to show them I'm down for brawling. 

The other, preppy looking kid spoke up: "I just wanted to say, man, that I fucking love you." Both Ed and I were taken aback at this seeming reversal of emotion. The preppy kid hugged Ed for a quick second. Ed, hiding his newfound boner, just smiled and said an awkward thanks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the moppy haired kid drooling profusely with a glazed look in his eyes.

Ok, so let's do a quick recap. Al is now inside the house being semi-raided by cops while Ed and I are outside on a street with two fucked up, on what I don't know, kids. Ok, let's continue. 

"So, what's going on in that party you guys came from?", asks the preppy fellow. 

We explain that we don't really know as this was our first time coming to this particular house. They, against our efforts, decide to follow us back into the house. I already have a bad feeling about this. 

The moppy haired kid is caught in a brief skirmish on the porch with one of the party regulars. The "regular" tells the moppy kid to bounce, obviously seeing how messed up he is. I take this time to head inside (followed by the preppy kid, stealthly) and head back down to the basement where I inform Jesse that the cops are across the street and people should be a bit more careful as to not get busted. 

I end up chilling on the couch next to Alex for a few minutes before I see moppy kid stumble his way down the steps. I sigh, how did he get in here? 

He quickly becomes a scene, stumbling and rambling incoherently to any of the girls that will give him their ear. Eventually, he finds a larger woman, adorned with dreadlocks and other socially misfit piercings and makeup, that will humor him by listening to his nonsense and save everyone else from a rather uncomfortable time. 

I overhear some of the conversation that this pickup artist with moppy hair spews out of his mouth. 

"LISTEN TO ME - they're all part of the system"

"Blah blah socialist government blah blah"

All of these words are coming out of his still-drooling mouth as he sways to and fro, looking very unstable. Meanwhile, the woman he's talking to is pulling an acting job of convincing him that what he is saying is actually very charming and attractive. Noticing his obvious lack of dexterity, she helps him to sit down on the couch on the opposite end from I. 

My attention is diverted to a group of girls in front of me who are blowing insanely cool soap bubbles filled with smoke from a hookah. As the bubble floats to the ground, it bursts every so softly and smoke erupts from it, slowly emitting into the air. 

However, I hear giggling to my right and I turn to look. Lo and behold the drooling, moppy haired kid has sprung a BONER. He is sitting there talking to this woman, just talking, and apparently takes a liking to her (though I'm sure as messed up as he was, any woman, or even a femenine looking male would have surpassed his standards). 

I grimace, this is both humiliating and extremely hilarious. Could this get any funnier?

My question was quickly answered with a resounding "yes". 

I won't even try to sugar coat this part, HE HAD AN ORGASM IN HIS PANTS AND IT LEFT A STAIN THAT WAS EVENTUALLY CAPTURED BY A CAMERA PHONE ALL FROM TALKING TO SOME OVERWEIGHT GOTH-LOOKING CHICK HOLY SHIT WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS KID.

He just ejaculated in his pants. 

How do you even do this without even touching yourself? 

There was literally no contact.

I am at a loss for words. 

It was at this point that I called it a night. 

There is some good news in this. The first, is that the kid might have been rolling on about 500mg of ecstasy which would explain the drooling, incoherentness, and premature ejaculation in his pants, thus making it slightly less embarrassing. Actually, I wouldn't even call it premature ejaculation, because that assumes that the ejaculation is prior to implied intercourse. This is just ejaculation in his pants and forever humiliating. Another good thing is that it was apparently hilarious to everyone there and now everyone has  a story to tell about this kid. 

I will do my best to find the cell phone picture and, god willing, his name. 

 

Eventually I grew tired of the party and asked the friends to leave while bidding farewell to our fellow partiers (except for the two pump chump). 

The ride home was silent, everyone considering the event they had just witnessed. 

Oh, also, I forgot to mention that Al safely made his way back to the house. Apparently everyone snuck out the back in the house that was raided. 

A lot of Chips and a Chair - Warning, long Poker Talk

I used to be very much into poker. I enjoyed and thrived in the sense of intense competition virtually played out as a chess match with cards. It invoked the best of all games by combining a match of intelligence, instinct, and lavish rewards if played right. All intrigued me so of course I was hooked.

I played mostly online at first, cashing out at Bodog.com during my freshman year of college with a whopping $350.00 check (after a initial deposit of 20 dollars). I was a driven tourney player, grinding lower stake sit n' go's for hours at a time. After the initial cashout, I went on to play at Full Tilt poker and Pokerstars to participate in more action, hopefully with more donkeys eager to give me their money. 

It was a little after this time I also decided to play some live games, playing outside of my broken down college bankroll. I would save up some 100 dollars and then go to the local game in Newton with my fellow poker playing pal Anthony. I ran terrible at Newton, so I decided to hang up the boots for a while and focus my interests elsewhere - hopefully somewhere I wouldn't lose large sums of money.

Well, on Sunday I got a call from Anthony, who also hadn't played poker in sometime, saying there was a $100 + 10 buyin tournament located in a sick apartment in Medford. I was initially reluctant, a $110.00 tourney after not practicing in a year? The odds weren't in my favor at all. 

However, I was kind of bored and I can actually afford it so against my better judgement I took Anthony up on his offer and decided that while I could light a hundred dollars on fire, let me make somebody else happy and give it to them instead. I packed up my sweatshirt, blackberry, and hopefully my best poker game to head over to the area of interest. 

The poker scene in Boston is surprisingly great for being underground and illegal. Although our main area of action in Newton was shut down, they essentially packed up and moved to Brighton, where games run every night of the week. The same people hosting that game also hosted this tournament, which is where our tale begins. 

We found the apartment complex after a brief search. Initially, we wondered if we were in the right place, but we quickly spotted a riced out Honda being parked and its driver emerging with full poker uniform: flat brimmed hat adorning the Celtics logo, ipod headphones, trendy hoodie sweatshirt, latest Nike shoes sporting a rainbow of colors. Yeah, we were in the right place. 

A pleasant asian man with a lisp met us at the door, we all shook hands and he introduced himself as Tsang, one of the dealers for tonight. He guided us up to the 8th floor and through the apartment doors, revealing one hell of a poker suite. 

Our eyes were met with a apartment full of poker degens, waiting around for the tournament to start. Waiting around for poker players usually means starting prop bets over ridiculous things, laying money on the college basketball game that night, or even involve themselves with intense chessmatches (played on the biggest chess table I've seen). We walked up to the money taker and paid our entrance fee, resulting in a baggie full of chips, myriad in color. Now we just have to wait.

There were three tables set up, all filled to capacity: 10 players to a table. I looked around my table and I can already spot the gamblers: One enormous, sun-glasses clad guy they called Harry, a Jewish looking man with glasses similar to mine and a drink in one hand, and a skinny version of the enormous Harry also adorning sunglasses. Sitting to my right I had the pleasure/displeasure of Justin. 

Justin is probably one of the more solid poker players I know. I first met him through Anthony back in Newton and out of everyone in this tournament I probably give him the most respect in poker playing ability. However, he's a great guy, hence the duality of having a great guy/great poker playing sitting directly to my left. 

Anyways, the first few rounds of the tournament were underway and I was practically card dead for a couple hands. I intended on playing tight aggressive for the most part of the tourney and seeing how the cards came, so it didn't really bother me. The first hand I was involved in I had A - Q in early position. I raised it up and got one caller, the jewish looking fellow mentioned before. Ace on the flop, rest blanks. I checked it over to him to try and play it slow and he bet out. Fair enough, I called and saw the turn. The turn was also a blank and I decided to bet out to see how he would respond. He ended up calling and we saw the river. At this point, I was content on keeping the pot small, especially after having Ace Queen out of position. However, if I checked, he could make all kinds of move behind me which would give me such a headache. I decided to check and surprisingly he checked behind, flipping over A- K for the pot. I tapped the table and there went half my stack in half an hour. 

Thankfully, I won it all back a few hands later. I had KingQueen of hearts in early position and got one caller after a preflop raise. The flop came down with two hearts and I was happy with that. I checked and he bet behind me. I decided to play this slow so I just called and saw the turn. Fantastic, another heart. I had the nut flush right now and I checked the turn to keep it slow. He checked behind and the river came a blank. Knowing I was good, I put out a value bet and he called. Ship it to me. 

At the first break I was about at the starting stack, so in decent position. However, now came the big pots. 

My descriptions of the hands are now going to be more brief because of a couple of reasons: 

1.) Only people who truly like poker will follow my hand descriptions anyways and

2.) I started drinking alot of beer

With that said, a few hands back from the break I saw a glorious hand. On the button, I peaked down at aces. Awesome. What made it even better though, was seeing enormous Harry, opening up with a raise. Ok, awesome again. But wait, oh no somebody in the next seat pushes all in over the top. What do I do here, I fake asked myself. I shove all in over the top and Harry waits a few minutes to think over what to do. He eventually throws his last chips in and flips over 88 and the other fellow QQ. 

So, right now I'm ahead and thank god it holds up, I'm now chip leader. 

One more orbital around the table and I'm back on the button. I peak down at KK. Wow, I'm a card rack tonight. "Yeah, but I bet you didn't get any action this time, Dan" you're saying. Well, I did and boom, next thing I know I win another all in. I hate this game. 

So as the beers are being drank my luck apparently improves (thank you foxy waitress Nicole). I ended up getting value out of a couple other flushes and I'm doing great on chips. Next thing I know, I'm sitting center stage at the final table. 

This is where the old jewish lady comes in. For the sake of naming her (even though her name is Mary), I start calling her Barbara Streisand. She bears more than just a resemblance to her, if she all of a sudden stood up and started singing "The Way We Were" I would have just shook my head and say I told you so. Anyways, her poker playing is not as good as her singing. And by "not as good", I mean god awful. 

She comes over as short stack, just begging to be knocked out. She gets involved in a couple hands and she's eventually down to one black 500 chip. The blinds at this moment were 500/1000, so she had literally a chip and a chair. Well, god damnit if she didn't but she got four double ups and was soon in great position, with just one more person out before the money pays. Well, this sharp dressed man in a Gucci suit ends up bitting the bullet and taking bubble boy, sorry man. This means there were only 5 left (with 5 payouts). 

Well, congrats Barbara you did it, you made money in poker. Now, please sit down and stop running around and yelling at the top of your lungs. 

One more person is knocked out, and its down to four: me, barbara streisand, mr. Ukraine, and a cool guy whom I don't have any nicknames for just yet (how about Fonzi? Yeah, that will work). So, we're playing and they all bring up the idea of a four way chop (split all of the remaining prize money four ways). I'm not really a fan of the idea, but the three of them are talking rather excitedly because after doing the math, everyone would get roughly 700$ each for a equal chop. I don't feel that's fair because of my presence in chips at the moment, so I say I'll chop only if I get 800$. Mr. Ukraine throws a fit saying he doesn't think its fair so I tell him by all means, lets play it out. 

Well, Fonzi said he's too cool for a little bit of extra money so he'll be glad to throw some money my way if we chop. Good enough for me, so we call the tournament and I now have 800$ from my first big live tournament. I am now up overrall in live playing, which is a great feeling. 

I received my money (wow thats a lot of hundos) and we shook hands with everybody and left. Me, Anthony, and Mike decide to drink more so we ended up heading into Boston to have a small party at Anthony's girlfriends' place. More beer was drank and memory deteriorated so that's where I'll conclude the (lengthy) story for now.

TL;DR I actually won at poker. 

Trying to Find the Juice In This Jungle

Eyes opened, head swimming. I'm still a bit drunk.

What happened last night?

Let's open the time portal we call drunken memory and try to figure it out.

I remember getting home from work. The call came - "Cameron" appears on the LED screen of my blackberry (shameless plug). All he says are two words: "Frat Party". I hang up and have approximately 30 minutes to get myself organized and present my hygiene in a manner beset of picking up copious amounts of women. I spent 25 playing video games.

We picked up Al and bought some pre-gaming material. Cheap vodka and powerade? Yes, please. Damn it all, I bought red powerade. It's only a matter of time before I get the red lip, destroying any chances I have of positive social interaction. Or, just maybe, this could be the cool "in" I need to go up and talk to chicks. They will all be so enthralled with my red upper lip that the conversation could only end up in excessive amounts of tonsel hockey. Yes, this could work.

We drive into Northeastern to meet up with Mui and his roommates. We then traverse across the barren tundra known as Boston, Massachusetts; a small price to pay for an occassion where there will be much drinking and dancing. 3 hours later and we're at the door, 5 bucks to get in. The toll is paid and I wander into the great halls of the Frat house.

This is where it gets hazy. Flashbacks will be my method of rememering the events that took place.

Sweet keg operation, lot of beer. I like beer. Beiruit table. The table is twice as long as other simple, primitive beirut tables. Bad people playing, please leave. We sign our names and head downstairs.

Loud music, lot of girls. People are starting to get tipsy, room divided like a awkward middle school dance still. I eye out some bitties that may catch my eye, they return the seductive gaze. She quickly averts her eyes with a roll. No, Bittie, I saw you. Don't try to hide it.

I keep sipping on the powerade, letting the alcohol run its course. People are dancing now, but I am nowhere near enough drunk yet to show off my incredible dancing skills.

Starting to get hazier, a flash here and there of what happened. Dancing. Alot of dancing. Who am I dancing with? Ah, a ebony queen. My how good you at dancing. How long did we dance? 10 minutes, 20 minutes? You eventually pull away. What's that? You are going to get on the counter to join the five other ladies up there dancing away in a narcisistic fashion where guys like me wish they could be? Sure, let me rendevous with friends.

Al is visibly drunk. The jungle juice is taking its toll. John is dancing with a chick. Time to approach him with a comment about how is girlfriend keeps calling me. No, that would be a sin, let me keep dancing.

Benny Bennasi's Satisfaction starts playing. I like this song. John and I spy some ladies. Yes, let's dance.

Song over, they jump on the table for the next. "Perhaps you should join them, dear friend" John says. I agree and jump up. We dance, John took picture. I fall off, John took picture. I brush myself off, don't worry ladies, I'm just getting started.

Crowd starting to thin out. More and more awkward to dance. Let me grab a smoke. Hey, you girls smoke too? Cool, lets talk.

Grabbing coats. Leaving time. As leaving, I hear a group of girls talking and laughing amongst each other: "Did you see that skinny kid with glasses? Yeah, the kid with the kool aid lip. He looked like he sucked off the kool aid man! Maybe that's who taught him to dance! Ahahahaha!" Was that me?

Talk to people on walk home. Introduce Al to everybody on the street as Ping. Yeah, it makes me laugh for some reason.

"Hey baby, I bet you like a man who knows how to program" I yell out to random strangers on the street. No Responses, muffled laughs.

Get home. Black.