you guys are going to so hate me !

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/games/bloxorz

WSOP coverage

Thomas Wahlroos, who’s apparently a bit intoxicated, walked up to Roland de Wolfe’s table and knocked his chips all over the place. Afterwards, he then snuck up behind Phil Hellmuth and proceeded to knock HIS chips everywhere, only Phil was in the middle of a hand! This is in a WSOP event!



This incident happened during the $5,000 No Limit Hold'em Six-Handed event again, and involved Finnish poker pro Thomas Wahlroos, son of one of the wealthiest people in Finland.

Just after Hellmuth won a huge pot in which he called an 80k all-in bet with pocket aces and watched them hold up against his opponents pocket sixes, he went walking around the tournament area looking for someone to tell that he was most likely the new chip leader. He found Thomas Wahlroos.

An obviously intoxicated Wahlroos, who was apparently taking a break from the $1,000 Seven Card Stud Hi Lo event, eagerly listened to Hellmuth tell him about the size of his stack. At the end of the story he blurted with feigned incredulity, "chip leader? No way. Let me see." He then proceeded to follow Phil to his seat, and upon arrival swept the patiently and lovingly built chip stack (trust us, we watched him) into a jumbled heap of colors.

Wahlroos proceeded to crack (mainly himself) up, while several onlookers smirked and others just stared at the unfolding scene.

Phil yelled for the floor, calling for Thomas to be escorted from the building.

problem solved

A few years ago I had a friend who liked to take my dog for a walk.

I don't know why a grown man would want to walk around with a shit-zu, but that's really not the point of this story. Just accept the fact that this some something that he enjoyed doing.

One day after he and the dog came back I felt compelled to ask him what the fuck he and the dog did while out on their adventures.

" Nothing really. We walk around. She sniffs at stuff. She takes a piss and a shit and we come home."

" She takes a shit ?", I suppose that should have occurred to me but I NEVER walked the dog, and couldn't stand the thing enough to ever consider its digestive habits.

" Well of course she does."

Realizing that when ever the two of them went out the door the only thing they took with them was a leash, I had to ask, " Well if she's taking a nightly shit and I don't see you walking out of here with a bag or anything...what's happening with the shit ?"

" What do you mean ?", he asked as puzzled as me.

" I mean, where do you put the shit ?"

Now he really looked baffled, " Put the shit ? I don't put the shit anyplace. We walk around, the dog sniffs around on someone's lawn, takes a shit, and we move along."

" Wait a second. You mean to tell me that every night you leave her with my dog. Walk around the neighborhood. And have my dog shit on one of my neighbors lawn and then just walk away ?", I was astonished.

" Yeah. Is that a problem ?"

" Yeah its a fucking problem. And when one of my neighbors comes up and throws a pile of shit against my house its going to be a big fucking problem." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

" Hey man I'm sorry " he apologized, " I had no idea it was a problem."

I drove the point home, " No seriously. You can't do that. If I caught someone's dog shitting in my lawn I'd be furious. They're going to drive me out of town...seriously...you gotta stop that shit."

" OK OK OK, I got it, mellow out."

Two days later I'm coming home from a night meeting and here he comes walking down my street with the dog. No bag, no scoop, no nothing, just him and the dog.

He greeted me with a big wave and I asked, " Hey were you just out walking the dog ?"

" Yeah"

" Well did the dog take a shit ?"

" Yeah.", he answered undeterred.

" Well I don't see you with a bag." I accused.

" A bag ? For what...the shit ? That's gross. I aint walking around with a bag full of shit."

Now I was furious, " Well what part of our discussion the other night did you NOT understand."

" No man, it's cool. I got what you were saying and I took care of it."

I was surprised, but relieved, " You did ? Whew..... How ?"

" Yeah I thought about what you said about shitting on people's lawns and you're right man that ain't cool. So when we were out tonight I'd let her sniff around a bit...and the right when she squatted to take a dump I picked her up and hung her out over the curb. BOOM, she shit right there in the street. No turds on the lawn !!! Problem solved !!!"

The 5 year old

I may have mentioned before that my youngest daughter is insane..but in a good way.

The other two need attention while she can play happily on her own. The other two need validation while she needs to be told that she can't drive a car. When the other two hurt themselves on the swingset in the backyard they run to their mother crying...and when she hurts herself on the swingset she gets the gas can and tries to set the entire jungle gym ablaze.

She has an imaginary friend named Chloe. Yesterday we were driving in the car and out of no where I got whacked in the back of the head with a rolled up coloring book.

" WHAT ARE YOU DOING !?!?!", I hollered.

" That wasn't me, that was Chloe ! ", she offered defiantly.

" Well tell Chloe to CUT IT THE HELL OUT !", I yelled.

" CHLOE !", she mimiced, " CUT IT THE HELL OUT !!!"

Then after a pregnant pause she said, " I'm telling Mom that you made me say a bad word"

One day she was going on and on about "poop". "Poop" this and "poop" that. I could tell the entire time that the only reason that she was saying it was because she knew she wasn't suppose to. Every time she said "poop" she'd look over at me to see if it would elliceit a response.

After a while I finally, calmly said something, " Honey, you know you're not suppose to say that word."

" Why, is it a bad word ?", she asked.

" Yeah, so just stop saying it."

Surprisingly she just stopped and went on doing some other stuff. "Hey, I'm getting good at this parenting thing", I proudly thought to myself.

A little later in the day she walked up to me and said, " Dad, can I ask you a question ?"

" Sure honey"

" When you go to heaven, do you see all your friends and family who are dead ?

" Yeah...sure"

" And then when you're up there with everyone, do you have fun ?"

" I suppose you do. "

" Well what do you do ? Are there games to play ?"

" Yeah, sure....every game you ever wanted to play is up there !"

For some reason this pleased her and a smile broke out across her face, " OK ! Is there music up there ?"

" Absolutely...every song that was ever made is in heaven."

Her smile grew and she continued, " How about food ? Is there food in heaven."

" Oh yes dear, all the food you eat..every food of every kind !"

Now her grin was ear to ear, " Cakes ? Pie ? Everything ?"

" Yep, everything."

Now her tone changed...She still had a big smile on her face but her voice and posture transformed from that of a 5 year old into that D.A. from Law and Order.

" So if you're up in heaven, running around with you friend and eating all this food you're talking about.."

" yeah ?", I answered a little puzzled at her tone.

"...sooner or later you're going to get very full aren't you ?", at this point I almost expected her to ask some imaginary judge if she could treat me as a hostile witness or something.

Uh, sure"

" AND when your belly gets full you go poop right ??!!"

" I suppose "

" AHHHH HAAAAAAAA !" and she jabbed her little finger at me, " SO YOU'RE SAYING THAT THERE IS POOP IN HEAVEN ???!!!"

" yeah..I suppose...but..."

She didn't let me continue, " and since everything is heaven is GOOD...then POOP MUST BE GOOD ! "

" no...you...but..", I stammered like a fool.

" AAAANNNNNNNDDDDDDDDD....if POOP is GOOD, then there's nothing wrong with saying POOOOPPPPP right ?! POOOP POOOOOP POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP !!!!! "

When she finally stopped we both just stood there staring at each other. I was equal parts stunned and pissed and had no idea what to do. All I could think was, " That little bitch just set me up ". We stood there like two gun fighters, toe to toe both frozen in time.

Finally she broke the trance... "Come on Chloe, lets get outta here." and while I stood there wondering what the hell had just happened, she spun on her heel, turned 180 degrees, and skipped away singing a little song.

taking a risk here

I problably shouldn't be posting stuff like this, but I've gotten increasly tired of having this pointless conversation with wives of my friends or women in my neighborhood.

The always come to me and ask, " What do you think my husband would like for " his birthday/fathers day/Christmas etc etc.

Then they usually propose stuff the varies from the mediocre to the really interesting. Actually, now that I think about it I've been really impressed with some of the stuff that wives come up with and I'm amazed at the ammount of time that many of them put into coming up with great gifts. I've seen them rent sports cars, arange golf outtings, send them to fantasy camps.

I think all that effort makes the situation even more frustrating for me...and the source of my frustration is that the answer to the question is so simple. It doesn't require a lot of thought. It doesn't require a bunch of work. It doesn't require a lot of planning.

Ladies. What your man wants...what all men want...for any time or any occassion is universal....men want oral.

Seriously. Oral. No wrapping paper necessary. Oral and be done, it's as simple as that.

Pass it along.

sage advice

" Hey man I'm starting to get worried."

- why's that

" Because I'm drinking like 2-3 beers every night anymore."

- yeah...so ?

" So I went to take some ibuprofin today and I read on the bottle that if you consume 3 drinks of alcohol a day that you should consult a doctor before taking the medication. I think it must fuck up your liver or something....anyway, the point is I think I might have a drinking problem."

- drinking problem ? Nah. It sounds to me like you have an ibuprofin problem. My advice...take asprin.

John Eustice

John Eustice is a nice enough fella I suppose. He's helped promote bicycle racing, he's been around a while, and he has some decent concepts and ideas.

But as a bicycle race announce....no let's broaden that considerably...as a sports announcer in general, he's totally unbearable. He's really the worst ever.

Here are a few of the foundations of any Eustice announced event.

The Italian

Regardless of the circumstances, John has to let the audience know that he can speak Italian. At first this was not that obvious as the first few winners of the Philadelphia race happened to be Italian. But over the years, John has had to go further and further down the results in order to find someone to showcase his bi-lingual skils. Hey John, we get it...bueno...or belisimo...or whatever. When you're interviewing the mechanic of the team who's Dutch rider got third in order to slip in a couple of words...maybe it's time to let it go. Save the showboating for ordering Linguini at dinner.


The Misidentification

This was epitomized perfectly in last Sunday's race when John spent 3 minutes butchering an explaination of the sport of cyclo-cross in honor of a rider that he identified as " cyclo-cross star Tim Johnson of the HealthNet team".

When he finally took a breath someone must have clued him in and he politely reidentified the rider as Amber someone or other who was on a solo break in the woman's race.

My first thought was, " what tipped you off John ? Was it the distinctly different colored jersey or the fact that Tim Johnson doesn't have a giant pair of tits ?"

The numbers

The numbers....ohhhhh the numbers. Eustice spews out numbers like a retarded Rainman. If one number is good enough for John then five numbers has to be better.

" T-mobile has 3-4-6, up to 7 riders at the front of the field."

He's like a bingo caller.

" The field is reaching speed of 20-22-24-30.....34 miles per hour and when your going 20 to 24 and up to 30 or 32 miles per hour, that's tiring"

B-13...O-64....BINGO !

The comparrisons

Cycling is like poker....cycling is like baseball...cycling is like cooking...cycling is like boxing.....and it goes on and on and on....

And while that, in and of itself, doesn't seem all that bad, consider the fact that in none of those instances does he ever make the analogy stick. For instance,

" Cycling is like football.....like football on a field that 800 yards....with 8-10-12 teams...all fighting and pushing...and that's why Lance Armstrong struggled as a young cyclist"

A football game with 10 teams ? And 800 yards ? Seriously...WTF are you talking about ? And as for Armstrong, the guy won a tour stage, the tripple crown, and the world championships all when he was barely old enough to drink the champaign. Fuck, according to this anology Armstong should be coaching the Eagles.

And finally the coup de gras

The final call

As a set-up to this point I should mention that an overriding principal to any Eustice announcement is that fact that his volume and inflection does not alway coincide with what's happening. Sometimes he emphasize a WORD in a sentence THAT HAS no significant to what HE'S trying to ephasize...while other times he just gets all excited and draws your attention to something that's really mundane..." LOOK AT THAT RIGHT THERE..HE'S SHIFTING !!!!"

Much of the above comes togeather at the greatest of all Eustice moments...the final call. As the riders charge toward the finish John works himself into a frenzy like an epileptic dog who's been slapped with a bloody steak. Some time around 300 meters to go he just starts screaming semi-coherantly at the top of his lungs. Typically he'll pick a rider or a team, I should add regardless of whether or not their in the race at the time, and just go with it.

" AND HERE THEY COME DOWN THE STRETCH AND IT'S TEUTENBURG LEADING THE SPRINT....TEUTENBURG...TEUTENBURG..TEEEEUUUUTEEEENNNNBBBBUUUUURRTGGGGG......TEUETUENEUTHDSIEGNEITHVATGIANWTGIIBBBBUUURRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG...............and Sara Uhl wins....with McRae in second and Thompson in third."

the ONLY reasonable candidate - seriously