Oh what a beautiful morning !

Birds are chirpin', sun is shinin', and in about 4 hours I'll be playing $1/$2 NL at the Tropicana Hotel and Casino on fabulous Atlantic City.

Now I'm no gambler, but I have made the odd wager in my day. Here are among the most memorable

* I once ate two pounds of Fig Newtown in one hour, fifty-eight minutes and third-eight seconds. A record that stood for many years until shattered by Sva-kong's awe inspiring 58 minute performance.
Result - WINNER

* I once won a car in a poker game by losing. A buddy had a AMC V-8 Pacer. After a handful of drinks some sort of wager was devised where I would take ownerhship of the car for free if I won the hand, but I'd have to buy it from him for $400 if I lost. Well, I lost.
Result - not really sure, but we'll go with LOSER

* I once bet that I could snort a hunk of meatball and make it come out my mouth. I got the thing up, but it became lodged in one of my sinuses resulting in terrible pain and an ocean full of schnotz and tears.

Result: - LOSER

* Cup-o-dog-slobber. No need for graphic details here other than to say that if you wanted to no-vomit rule to be in effect you should have call it. Result - WINNER

* And I once bet my wife that it wouldn't snow more than 4 inches. That resulted in my sitting bare ass in 8 inches of snow for two minutes and freezing both ass cheeks numb.

I've also been the initiator of some decent wagers.

One late night it was 14 degrees with 30 mph winds and a below zero wind chill. I bet a guy a dinner he could stand outside on my deck in his underwear for 3 minutes. Actually the conversation went something like:

Me: man its freaking cold

Dave: yeah, no kiddin, if you got caught out in this shit how long do you think you'd survive ? Do you think someone could survive through the night like this ?

Me: I don't know about that, but I do know how long I could stay outside on a night like this.

Dave: really ? How long ?

Me: At least one minute longer than you.

Then it was game on.

After much haggling and many beer later the contest was sealed. If he could last the 3 minutes, I'd buy him one steak dinner.

About 45 seconds into it, I'm at the window with the stopwatch...he's out back underneath the little porch light on the back deck in his boxers....and he's jumping and hopping and blowing into his hands....and much to my delight he's totally freakin freezing to death.

Thats when my wife walked in.

All the noise woke her up and she came down to see what was going on. What she found was her husband sitting at the window watching another man dance in his underwear.

" WHAT IN THE HELL IN GOING ON !?!"

"wellyouseeIbetdavehecouldn't...andthen...but....yousee...beer....betting..."

"QUIET ! YOU COME IN THIS HOUSE"

Dave: " but I can't, I have another minute"

" INNNNN !!!!! NOW !!!!...GOOD ! Now you, get dressed and go home. AND YOU ! YOU go upstairs...and you're sleeping in the guest room !"

It really is amazing that I'm still married.

I'm wondering if this blog is unhealthy

So I got jammed up in traffic the other day because people on the cross road were stopping in the middle of the intersection and then the light would change. So people in out lane, feeling cheated, would then all try to get through the yellow light and when the light changed, they'd be blocking the intersection the other way. In the end it had become a giant fuck-you-fest with everyone screwing each other and nobody getting anywhere.

If everyone would have just been patient, waited their turn, and been polite...or at least civil, then we all would have been out of there in no time.

The whole thing got infuriating to the point where I was feeling the strong desire to take action. I was about 3 cars back and the light was about to turn and this lady ( omg I'm getting pissed right now writing this) this lady pulled right out into the middle of the intersection KNOWING that she was going to fuck all the cross traffic. You KNEW that she KNEW because she stared straight ahead blankly totally ignoring the existance of the people she just blocked and not acknowledging the fact that what she was doing was just an asshole shitty thing to do.

So my first thought was " I'm going to go up there. I'm going to stand on her hood. And I'm going to take a poop right on her windshield."

I actually put my emergency brake on and started to quickly work out the logistics and timing of it all. I mean the last thing I could let happen is that I'd be standing on her hood with my drawers down and the traffic ahead of her cleared and then she'd peel wheels out of there and send me flying.

As I was working it out I started to get a little more control of myself and decided that it probably wasn't the best course of action.

That's where the blog came in.

For the briefest of seconds I thought...." well, if i just go ahead and do it it WOULD make for something decent to write about for the blog". Luckily the traffic cleared, i release the brake and I got on my way.

But ultimately, that aint right ! I mean, I'm up for finding some interesting content and I find this blog to be somewhat theraputic, but the last thing that I need is to encourage my impulses. Subduing them is already a full time job.

And then today, my brother-in-law was worried about rain messing up our golf. I pointed out that there's a 60% chance of no rain at all. He was surprised..." I'd never take you for an optimist" he wrote. This was stunning to me. I'm the happiest guy i know. I define the glass half full. I mean, sure, chasing a hill-billy around his pick-up screaming " stay still, I'm gonna rape you with my bike pump"* probably doesn't fit the classic definition of optimist, but I'm the new breed of optimist....a neo-optimist if you will.

(* reminder to me to write the pump-a-rapin' story next week)

Then it occurred to me that the only time this guy sees me is after I've driven two hours in the van with all three kids and a tragicly car-nervous wife...and I've spent the afternoon guzzling beer and hanging out with 100 relatives. I suppose that could give you a skewed perspective on someone. THEN i realized that his only other insight is that occassionally he checks out this blog. HOLY CRAP. I should be happy that all he thinks is that I'm a pessimist. If I read this thing, I'd think the guy writing it should be institutionalized. I'm a friggin loon...and an illiterate loon to boot.

So to anyone reading this stuff I'd like to relieve any concerns. I'm fine. I'm in good shape. Underneath of all the gambling, and drinking, the drugs, the anal-fixation, the anger, and threatening people, I'm a perfect happy, well adjusted guy. No worries.

polly wanna cracker

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the Flu

Wednesday night my youngest daughter started projectile vomiting all over the house. By Thursday, my wife had contracted it. Friday night I could feel it coming and by Saturday morning, I had it full blown. Actually Saturday started with me laying in bed, unsure if I had it or not and unwilling to move for fear that I might find out.

The boy walked in and said, " good morning !...ummm by the way, I threw up twice last night."

"where"

" Uh, in my room, I'm sorry"

I walked into his room to see vomit strategically spewn all over his covers, the bed and the floor. Any doubts at to whether or not I was going to spend the day nauseous were sealed right there and then. The rest of the weekend was spent prone watching TV and hoping not to die.

Which reminds of a story of one other time i had the stomach flu.

I was in school and had it bad. I sweated it out for two days in my room, getting up only to got the the bathroom where I would howl in pain and grab the seat so as not to get blown out of the stall. After about 48 hours of of sweating the fever and emptying the lower half of my intenstinal tract it started to lift. The fever came down under 101 and I could sit upright without having to barf. With all the strength I had I got dressed and started heading down to the health campus in hope that they had some medicine to cure Lupus or whatever I had contracted.

I live about 1 mile from the infirmary and had been walking for about a half mile when I had the uncontrollable desire to fart. Now being a veteran of such incidences, I knew better than to let one rip. The last thing I needed was a spoonful in my trousers. I stopped in my tracks and very gingerly, oh so tenderly, I slowly loosened up the sphincter and tested the waters with the tiniest of flatulence. A squeeker if you will. Whew...nothing but gas.

I continued on my way somewhat relieved, but still not totally satisfied as there continued to be slight pressure on my lower half. Again I paused, gingerly relaxed, and as inconspicuously as possible provided myself some necessary relief with a nice solid, although purposely quiet fart. Ahhhhh, no worries at all. I continued on my way.

Now about three quarters of the way to the health campus the gas pains returned. Now this was getting to be a bit ridiculous. Hopefully when I got to the infirmary, they'd be able to give me something for the gas as well as the fever. Emboldened with confidence of my first two attempts I figured I'd just let this one go 'on the fly' and get to the infirmary and get things over with.

Then it happened.

A big and expected whiff of gas came out and the swelling in my belly subsided. Then, without warning, and with all the power of the Hoover Dam busting at the seams, the last remnants of my bowels started emptying into my pants. I instinctively tightened my sphincter, but to no avail. This was like a jailbreak. I even stopped in my tracks and clenched my buttcheeks, but it was no use. I might as well have been trying to stop a fire plug with two boxing gloves for all the good it was doing.

For a good 5 seconds, which anyone who has been in a similar situation could surely tell you is an anal eternity, the entire remaining contents of my lower bowels emptied into my pants. I had been worried about a spoonful....a got the whole gallon.

I stood stood there...still....stunned....ashamed....Panicked. Then I noticed a very very odd thing.

Despite what had to be a good quart of poo emptying out of my bottom, I couldn't....and i hate to be graphic here....I couldn't feel anything running...you know...anywhere.

Then I realized that a very surreal, dare I say, miraculous thing had occurred. In my haste to get dressed and out the door, I hadn't worn jeans and boxers. Instead I slipped on a pair of brief and and old pair of sweatpants. The combination of these two items had created sort of a catch basin...or depository, if you will....that all of the offending material was now precariously perched in. Everything I was worried about was hanging somewhere between my testicles and knees and was bordered on either side my the elastic bands of my undershorts.

By all means, this wasn't a solution...but it did offer hope. Slowly and steadily I turned. With the grace of a ballerina and the iron nerves of a bomb diffuser I waddled my way back toward home. Somehow, some way, it what is really a blur that I attribute to divine intervention, I negotiated my way through the sea of students and all the way back to the dormitory bathroom where I was able to extract myself from the shorts and shower all in one relatively safe manner.

First Eddie, now this

The used to be Phil Specter



thanks to Matt Howey at Spokepost

taking action

From: Bxxx LXXXXXX
To: 'Consumer.Affairs@fritolay.com'
sent: Fri 3/24/2006 11:12 AM
subject: straighten up !


Dear Cracker Jackians:

I have 3 children ages 7, 5, and as of yesterday…4, and I’m trying to bring them up ‘right’. For me this has been increasingly difficult to do as all the good Bugs Bunny cartoons have been edited to remove overt acts of violence ( oh I long for the days of Baby Face Finster), all the see-saws and metal slides have been removed from the parks, and baseball cards should come with syringe needles instead of dusty flatboard gum.

One of the things that I really thought I could count on was Cracker Jacks. I mean it’s in the baseball song for cripesakes. But it’s with a heavy heart that I have to write this email. I picked up a bag of Cracker Jacks yesterday and could not have been more disappointed….( well that’s not exactly true, if I found a severed finger in the bag I suppose that would be more disappointing, but I think you get my gist)….anyway, here are my list of complaints:

• A BAG !?!?!? Cracker Jack in a bag is like getting Pringles in…well…a bag. Cracker Jacks should come in a box. Period.
• There were exactly 4 and ½ peanuts in my 1.5 ounce bag. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about settling or the randomization of packaging or anything of the sort. The product is advertised and known as Caramel Coated Popcorn and Peanuts….not Caramel Coated Popcorn and a couple of shriveled up lumps in the bottom of the bag. Hell, at the rate you’re going you can pretty much remove the warning label that reads CONTAINS A PEANUT INGREDIENT. Anyway, you get this idea…more peanuts.
• Lastly, and this is my biggest beef….what the hell kind of things are your trying to sell as prizes these days ?!?!?! I bought your product excitingly expecting a blow spinner or a tattoo…at worst a magnifying glass. But instead I got some sort of math problem…seriously ! a math problem…are you even aware of the fact that’s what you’re giving out ? I don’t even think I have to expand upon my point here.

Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love you guys. I WANT to be a customer. But if you keep this up you might was well change the name of your product from “Cracker Jack” to “Cracker Puh-leeze”. You wanna go the way of Astro Pops and the Reggie Bar ? You wanna be replaced by….do I dare say it…..Fiddle Faddle ? Come on guys, get it together. Keep America Strong.

Sincerely,

Bxxx Lxxxxxx

cracker jacks

I just had my first cracker jack in years. The prize sucked.

Added to that is the fact that it came in a bag ?!?! and not a box.

Finally, there were...and I counted...4 and 1/2 peanuts in a 1.25 oz bag. This is an atrocity. Sailor Jack and Bingo must be turning over in their graves.

I'm frankly getting a little pissed at the watering down of my youth-years favorites.

I bought Othello for my kids and the board and pieces are half size. I got rock'em sock'em robots for the boy last weekend and althought the thing functions the same, the guys are downsized to about 65%. And now the cracker jack prizes suck. I mean it always sucked to a certain degree, but you could get a couple minutes pleasure out of a tattoo, blow spinner, or magnifying glass.

The only two games things that I've bought that have retained their integrity are chutes and ladders and connect four, but I'm not sure how you could screw either one of them up as they were pretty bottom basement, althought fun, to begin with.

Also, Ants-in-your-pants, has now been bastardized into a Spongebob Squarepants game. While Spongebob is mildly entertaining ( big fan of the Bikini Bottom X-box game), there's no reason to screw with Ant-in-your-pants. I mean conceptually it plays on ants in YOUR pants, not in Spongebob's pants...besides, there are no ants in the bottom of the ocean. Maybe Plankton-in-Spongebob's-Pants would be more accurrate, but really what's the point. I just find the whole thing a bit disturbing.

I was going to link to the cracker jack collectors association ( affectionatly the CJCA) website just now, but the 4 dorks who comprise the entirety of that organization apprarently don't have a programmer among them and their dancing java graphics have fucked up my computer.

Sorry for the rant and the lousy post. I got through yesterday mostly sober and had more than 4 hours of sleep last night. That rarely works well for my writing. I'll see what I can do about going on a nice bender this weekend and have something decent up for Monday morning.

The poop lady

We get a fair number of wackos who walk through the door each and every day here at local government central. I just got done with a lady who insists that our snow plow dug up her driveway, although it's been 6 weeks since we've had a plow out on the road. But one of the more interesting ladies that we've had come through here I affectionately refer to as the poop lady.

One morning a women in her early 70s came into the office with a complaint about her sewer, " Your sewer main is clogged !" she insisted.

" Ma'am. That's possible, but not likely. The sewer main is 8 inches wide and pretty tough to clog. And if it was clogged we'd be hearing from everyone in the neighborhood."

" IT'S CLOGGED I TELL YOU ! I HAVE MY NEIGHBORS FECES BUBBLING UP ON MY LAWN !"

As patiently as I could, " Ma'am, I don't doubt that the sewage has backed up through our vent pipe and on the lawn..but what's likely hapening is that YOUR lateral is blocked up...and it's your sewer that's backing up. I'd suggest that you call Roto-Rooter or some other plumber"

" DAGNABBIT ! Not MY FECES...I said it was my NEIGHBORS FECES ! Don't you listen ?"

Now I was getting a little pissed, " With all due respect, how would you the difference between you and your neighbors fecal matter ? "

" CAUSE I CHECKED IT !"

I'm not sure how I can explain my expression at that point...but astonishedly dumbfounded is pretty close.

She continued, " When that poop bubbled up on my lawn I went and got my trowel and examined it. And do you know what I found ?"

Still astonished and mouth agape, all I could do is shake my head no as she leand up on the counter putting her face a good 12 inches away from mine...

" CORRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNN !"

then she eased herself back off the counter can continued, " ....and I don't eat corn....but I did go to my neighbors recycling bin and do you know what I found ? "

" An empty can of corn ?"

"RIGHT ! an empty can of corn. So if you'll please fix you your sewer pipe, and quickly, I would appreciate it."

" yes ma'am"

And with that she turned around and walked out.

Seriously.

Now if that wasn't enough, about an hour later the phone rang. It was the little old lady, " I'm calling to apologize. When I got home I called my son to tell him about the situation. And do you know what he had for lunch on Tuesday ?"

" Cormn ma'am ?"

" That's right...corn. So I'll call a plumber and get this thing fixed."

"Thank you ma'am. And have a nice day."

Fire Water

8 pm last night
- $84 in my poker acct
- chess rating 1280
- just got done riding hard for an hour, felt great
- clear head
- happy

NOW ADD ON FULL FLASK OF WHISKEY

8 am this morning
- $26 in my poker acct.
- my chess rating is so low I can only play after 3:30 when the elementary school lets out
- this screen is blurry, but does clear up when my head pounds really really hard...which, thankfully, is about every third heartbeat

I woke this morning a mess. The first thing I dealt with was a clogged toilet. As I may have mentioned before, my family doesn't seem to realize that you can take the toilet paper off of the roll. I'm pretty sure they think that you are to take the entire roll, stick your finger in the tube, and wipe with the whole thing. Then I walked down stairs and started my daily search for my shoes. I checked under all the couches to no avail. I went to the closet and started rooting around and the broom fell over and hit me in the head, so I flipped out and got in a fist fight with the broom screaming the whole time that the house was a shithole and that I was going to wear my wifes shoes to work to teach everyone a lesson ( how cross dressing was going to teach anyone anything is still beyond me, but seemed valid at the time). Unfortunately my shoes were sitting right in the middle of the floor...well they were right up until my wife picked them up and threw them at me.

So here I sit with rot gut and rot head. Whiskey never helps...it only hurts....just ask her...mmmmm, that looks comfy.

The boy

I have a 5 year old son who loves video games so last night before heading out to play some poker, I got him Legends of Wrestling and two new Xbox controllers.

I set the thing up as best I could, but it had no instructions in the box so I told him after dinner I'd play a game with him and help him figure out the controls.

All during dinner the little fucker was talking smack..." you're going down"...."downtown"..."you're going so far down, that at the bottom theres going to be a door and your going through the door into a black hole ....down"

So I fired up the game and we got started.

Match 1 - Me=King Kong Bundy; Him=George the Animal Steele
Everytime he tried to body slam me he couldn't get me off the ground and I'd respond with the only move I could figure out, which was to drop a big elbow on him. But in the end speed won out over brawn and the boy went up 1 to 0.

Match 2 - I started to figure out the controls at bit and figured I'd spot the kid a little advantage. He was Hulk Hogan, I was Ko Ko B-Ware. Due to the size difference it took a while, but it was really a one sided contest and I had the bird wings flappin and came off the top rope to take the Hulkster out with a single fall. Boy-1; Me-1

The tie breaker was held in a steel cage and featured me as rowdy Roddy Piper and the boy as King Abdullah the Butcher. I was the first to figure out how to climb up the cage fence and used that to my advantage to stay away from The Butcher and then hit him repeatedly with a flying body press. I suppose I could have told the boy which buttons did what, but he's the one who was talking smack....and if you're going to talk the talk you better back that shit up. I also figure out how to open the gate and stand at the gate taunting the boy. When he came over to get me I stepped out of the squared circle for the victory. I immeditely jumped off his bed and started prancing around the room doing my victory dance singing
"When you're alone and life is making you lonelyYou can always go-downtownWhen you've got worries all the noise and the hurrySeems to help I know-downtown "

Now I should point out that the boy is a very very sweet boy. He'll whine from time to time, but he never gets angry or throws a temper tantrum and is very good natured.

But apparently, he doesn't take to taunting very well.

He threw down the controlled and started wailing and crying as loud as humanly possible. Then he stood up on top of his chair, let out a battle cry and lept onto me knocking both of us on the bed. Then the little bastard started doing some of his green belt karate shit on me. It was funny at first, but then he started connecting with kicks and punches and wasn't showing any signs of letting up. It was getting quite possible that he might really fuck me up.

So as best I could I put him in a submission hold and tried to calm him down. Then my wife came running in to see what all the clatter was and started yelling at me.

It took me 15-20 minutes to calm the boy down and then explain to him how all the controls work.

I end up being late to my poker game.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was late to my drinking and gambling because I was tormenting my son with a violent video game....like you're father of the year. Mind your own business.

I don't roll like that

Uncle Walt at the Trop on Tuesday night.

He was in position #3 but the hand folded around and it ended up being a heads-up pot between positions #6 and #9.

Big Pot.

At showdown, #9 who Walt said was being a dick the whole night shows one of his cards for a pair of 6's. Position #6 flips over two pairs, gives a little cheer and starts collecting all the chips.

#9 slow rolls the second card, another six, for trips, and laughs.

There was a pregnant pause while #6 realized what had just happened.

Then he slammed his fist to the table and sent chips scattering everywhere...all over the table, onto other people piles, all over the floor.

And as everyone scrambled, #6 went over the table like an old spaghetti western and pandemonium ensued.

There's a lot of shit that you can get away with at a poker table. Slow rolling isn't one of them.

bad form

posting IM conversations is bad form, but I don't feel like typing this all over again.


L says:
so last night I went to the gym and worked out and got all sweaty...like balls are all wet sweaty
and T** wanted me to go to the grocery store right from the gym

L:
I drove over the the grocery and decided that I couldn't shop wtih sweaty balls

L says:
so I parked about as far away in the parking lot as you could

L says:
and it was cold and windy

L says:
so I was parked a good 25 spots from any other car

L says:
and I took off my shorts and underpants so I could put on some dry sweats

L says:
and as soon as I got naked

John says:
oh my god what happened

L says:
some old lady pulled into the lots and I could just tell what was coming

L says:
that old bitch drove all the way across the lot and parked her SUV RIGHT NEXT TO ME

John says:
no way

L says:
on my passenger side too

John says:
oh my god

John says:
did she get an eyeful

L says:
I was so pissed I was like " fuck it"

L says:
I just scowed at her and shrugged my shoulders

L says:
mind your own business and you woudn't have to see my balls

John says:
lol

John says:
did she say anything

L says:
she hustled into the grocery

L says:
that worst part was that I had to go in there

L says:
the next store is like 5 miles away

L says:
fuck it, if she ran in and called the cops or something I had a sweaty pair of underpants as an alibi

John says:
lol

John says:
thats too funny

L says:
you know sometimes I type sentence like the one above and I have to believe that with all the billions of people who have lived through time....no one has ever utter the phrase " I had a sweaty pair of underpants as an alibi"

L says:
it makes me kinda proud.

John says:
lol dude that is as funny as shit

1 swing, 2 diapers

Yo Butthead

Bevis is Bush's nephew...what a pisser.

ok, I might have issues

I was out riding tonight and some kids drove past in a car and threw trash out window that hit me in the chest. I was pissed and rode around some neighborhoods looking for them.

I finally found the car and dragged this kid out of his house and chased him around his yard trying to beat him to death with some cheap ass snow shovel had next to his front door.

The whole time he's screaming that he has no idea what I'm talking about and that I have the wrong guy.

So I stopped for a second and took a good look at the car.

And I definately had the WRONG guy.

I can't believe I'm not in jail. I definately have issues.

That will learn 'em

So I was playing 50c/$1NL last night and busted some kid out of his last $20. Dejected, he asked if anyone would "lend him some money".

For kicks, and knowing that I was never going to see it again, I told the kid I'd send him $2 and he could work his was up from the 1c/2c tables, the only condition is that he'd have to pay me back $4

As he was leaving I finished with "people might think that I'll never hear from you again, but I know that you'll do what you think is right. I know I wouldn't want my karma ruined over a lousy $4"

About 10 minutes later he came back to the room and said, " dude, I transferred the money back to you...I know I'll probably lose the money, I have no way to pay you back...and I can't take that kind of pressure. I quit"

and believe it or not...the dude sent me back the $2 !

The only honest poker player ever....and I drove him out of the game.

Yanni

This morning's news announced that police were called to Yanni's home in response to a complain from his girlfriend that he hit her.

I'm SHOCKED !

Not about the domestic abuse, but that fact that Yanni is straight.

BTW, this image popped up on the first page when I was googling Yanni.

I'm speechless

This used to be Eddie Van Halen

Don't do the crime if you can't do the time

GOLD HILL, Ore. -- High school student David Thumler is a convicted nipple pincher.
He's going to have to spend four days in juvenile detention for refusing to write a letter explaining himself after twisting the nipple of another boy while they were standing on line at a deli.
Thumler was convicted of offensive physical touching in July 2005. The victim's parents had complained to Gold Hill police.
The Gold Hill, Ore., boy has already served three days of community service emptying trash cans, mowing lawns and shoveling gravel, along with paying a $67 fine for the offense. But he refused to write the letter holding himself accountable, which would have spared him the time in juvee.
Thumler presented a rough draft but balked when told he must also describe his "criminal thought processes." Thumler said he had no criminal intent because he considered the victim to be a friend at the time.
He said writing it would imply malicious or criminal intent. Thumler, who's 16, said he was just fooling around.
The victim offender program that requires the letter said it prepares teens to be accountable.

Damn

The second worse thing to happen when you walk into the work bathroom is to close the door and realize the someone had just been in there and stunk up the joint.

The WORST thing is to decide, forget it you'll hold it, open the door to walk out, and have some cute chick standing there waiting to go in next.

Like a wise man once said, " If you're explaining, you're losing."

FELT rules

So I busted their alum frame and they mailed me out a new frame asap.

I picked it up today and they replaced it with a full carbon model.

http://www.feltracing.com/06/06_framesets/f2c/index.html

THANKS FELT.

Good bikes, good people.

Dude shoulda just ate the Big Mac

Former NFL quarterback Todd Marinovich has been arrested after being found in a public bathroom with apparent drug paraphernalia.

Marinovich, who has acknowledged that drug addiction derailed his once-promising football career, was being held in an Orange County jail for investigation of violating his probation pending on a drug court hearing scheduled for next week.

A police officer found Marinovich in the bathroom May 20 with a bent spoon and syringe. The former quarterback fled on a bicycle but was arrested 15 blocks away, police said. On the police report, he listed his occupation as "unemployed artist."

Marinovich, who lives in Balboa, was first arrested on drug charges when he was a student at the University of Southern California. He earned nearly $2.3 million as a first-round draft pick of the then-Los Angeles Raiders in 1991, but was removed from the roster after two seasons due to his drug problem.

He later played football in Canada and the Arena Football League. He was arrested on drug charges in 1997, 2001 and last August. In last year's arrest, he was caught skateboarding in a prohibited area carrying methamphetamine and three syringes, police said.
He pleaded guilty to those charges and was sentenced to 90 days in jail and three years' probation.

For those of you who don't get the reference see:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Todd_Marinovich