• Drinking lots of beer and shots at the Beer Bistro. (Thanks McD!)


• As soon as we got a table next to a bunch of hot chicks at Sheffield’s, they got up and moved to our old table.


• Four Shadows – the worst bar in Chicago. No beers with flavor - really? Not even Sierra Nevada???


• Rooster and his little brother.



• Drizz killing a drive 315 yards up the middle.


• 3 birdies, 4 pars.


• That last one was a lie.


• Smoking cigars, drinking scotch at my local cigar shop with the Rooster


• Hitting the Boxer with the Rooster at 2am Friday.


• StB letting us into the building in his boxers.


• Not puking.


• Potee at the Publican.


• And yes, Bracelet, that was the same sausage. No homo.


• Oysters at the Publican.


• Marrow thieves.


• Some awkwardness at the Publican with the Bracelet bros playing jokes on each other.


• The Publican manager calling me the next day to make sure I knew we were still welcome there. Whew.


• Strange, gay, dancing with Rooster and Grubby on Friday night.


• Watching Drizz dance and play the part of Rooster’s wingman on Saturday night.



• Chad’s friends sleeping under 3 towels each.


• I had sleeping bags in a duffle bag.


• CJ catching the entire game because it was delayed.


• Walking into a window after closing the adjoining open door.


• Maigrey, the wingwoman.


• @whatisgamblingbluespickupline


• Shots of Patron XO café at the lesbo bar


• One of Chadarama’s friends hugged me. Twice.


• Forgot to wear the Cubs luchador mask, but did rock the baseball pants and a "Drunk Chicks Dig Me" shirt. They’re Ronny Cedeno’s dammit!


• Yeah, I still got it.

Yesterday was a long, long, day - the Cubs home opener. Early start + rain delay + prime bar position = hot mess. The drinking started at 8am at Murphy's bleachers, where Mike & Mike started their broadcast at 5am. By the time I got there, the place was a total zoo. I had two beers (Guinness) and started to make my way out to the Central, hoping to get a good spot for the Waddle and Silvy show on ESPN radio Chicago.

I turned and saw a familiar face on a 5'2" frame. He was wearing a pretty pimp jacket.

No it wasn't Prince.

It was ESPN.com and Chicago's very own Scoop Jackson. I enjoy reading his columns because of his knowledge of the NBA and Chicago sports. I don't mind the "I'm from the streets" angle.

He waved after I shouted "Hey Scoop!" and I continued my way out the door.

It was a cold, rainy walk to the Central. But I got a prime spot right at the bar and in front of the broadcast table.

Five minutes later, Scoop Jackson walked in and said, "Hey man, I'm following you."

He ordered an Old Style. The bar didn't carry it, so he had to settle for Miller Lite. I had my third of seven thousand Guinnesses.

We chatted for about a half hour. I asked him about the "feud" between Simmons and Reilly, gave him some ideas for columns (each of which he quickly rejected with "No, I can't write that one"), and asked him about two of my, ummmm, favorite players in basketball - Tyler Hansbrough and Luol Deng

I told Scoop that there's no way Basketball Tebow does anything in the NBA. He can't shoot, he shoots from his waist, hell, he even brings the ball down after a rebound before putting it back up. Just awful. God, I hate that guy.

Scoop's opinion? Hansbrough, in the right system and with the proper coaching could become as good as Bill Laimbeer. My head exploded. I said that the only person dumb enough to draft Hansbrough is Michael Jordan. No reply.

He also didn't comment when I asked him to estimate the size of Luol Deng's vagina.

He must know that I have a blog.

One thing I did agree with is that JJ Redick, on the right team, could put up much better numbers. He pointed out the Lakers and Miami as examples. He needs to be on a team where a double-teamed player can kick it out and find him. And Dwight Howard isn't exactly the best passer from the post. If it worked out for Kapono...

A show producer came over and said, "Scoop, you're on in two minutes. Will you be ready?" He gave the guy a look that said, "Yeah, muthafucka, I've done this before."

He did the Waddle/Silvy interview and came back to finish his beer. We shot the shit for a little longer and he had to take off.

Then he gave me one of those awkward Johan Santana hand shake/chest bump/hug things. No homo.

A few minutes later, two dudes came over and asked me how I knew Scoop.

I told him that we grew up in the same 'hood.

Because, I'm from the streets, ya know.

Highland Park 30 - This is the first tasting I have every year.
Highland Park 25 - I have this at home, and still had them pour me a taste.
Macallan Fine Oak 15
Macallan Fine Oak 17 - I could drink this every day of the week. Gonna pick up a bottle.
Macallan Sherry Oak 12
Macallan Sherry Oak 18 - Wish I could have lit up a cigar
Pappy Van Winkle 15 - Don't like bourbon much but had to try the Pappy. Pretty smoove.
Pappy Van Winkle 20 - Smoover
Pappy Van Winkle 23 - Smoovest
Goose Island Sophie
Goose Island Imperial Brown Goose
Laphroaig Quarter Cask
Laphroaig 21 - HOLYFUCKINGSHITTHISWASGOOD
Duncan Taylor Glenesk 20
Duncan Taylor Tamdhu 34 - Caramelicious
Lagavulin 16
Tomatin 18 - Great value at less than $75
Tomatin 25
Tomatin 30 - Smooth and creamy
Glenrothes Select Reserve
Glenrothes 1991
Glenrothes 1985 - Good for less than $100
Balvenie 17 Rum Cask - Wow the pourer had some nice tits.
Balvenie 21 Port Wood - I had a bottle of this a few years ago and don't remember it being this good.
Glenlivet Nadurra
Glenlivet 18
Glenlivet 21Aberfeldy 21
Deanston 12 - I think the first time I've tried a Deanston. Unpeated. Unspectacular.
Deanston 30
Bunnahabhain 12
Bunnahabhain 18
Tobermory 1798
Ledaig 10
Gordon & MacPhail Millburn 27
Gordon & MacPhail Ardmore 13
Gordon & MacPhail Old Pulteney 9
Laphroaig 2000 7 yr
Caol Ila 1996
Black Star Farms Grappa - I only went to this booth to see if they brought some of their kickass cheese. They didn't. I really hate Grappa.

In preparation for the completion of the man cave I've been doing a lot of brewing. An IPA that was recently kegged - a Surly Furious clone. A coffee stout is aging and should be ready to keg in 2 weeks. Then there's the English Ale that won't be ready until October. I'll be aging that sucker on oak chips that are soaking in bourbon.

I'm looking for ideas on what to brew next. I was thinking about a honey kolsch. Any suggestions? Keep in mind that in the spring I'll be trying to recreate the summer wheat recipe that I whipped together last year. Too bad I was trashed when I made it and don't remember how it was made.

Sunday mornings and afternoons in February and March are brutal. No football. No baseball. Occasionally there are good college hoops games to watch. Like today's Duke - UNC. I guess I'll make the wingman watch that instead of what we've been requesting through the magic of Comcast On Demand...

No, not Spider-Man. Not Thomas & Friends. Not that whiny Canuck Caillou.

Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease!





As you can imagine, I had the same look on my face.

Jersey Number of Player to score First Touchdown in Super Bowl XLIII
Under 38.5 (-120)

Will Both Teams Make a 33 or Longer Field Goals
Yes (If No FG - NO WINS) +145

Will there be a Defensive or Special Teams Touchdown
Yes +145

Will Either Team Score 3 Straight Times w/o Other Team Scoring
No (Conversions Excluded) +140

Team to Score LAST
Cardinals even

Under 47

Cardinals(Arizona) +7 (-115)

Remember this post? Go ahead and read it again. I'll wait.

(waiting)


It's that time of year again. Time for the Children's Oncology Services, Inc Charity Poker Championship. I've played this tournament several times in the past. It's a blast check-raising local celebrities and tearing up the open bar. It's a $250 player entry fee and $50 spectator fee. I'm working on the FTP roll and hope to play, but will definitely be there to drink.

First place is a WSOP ME seat. There are many additional prizes and bounties on the heads of local celebrities. Thus far I know that Steve Rosenbloom, Richard Roeper, and Chris Zorich have registered.

So if you're in Chicago, register now!

While shooting around at the gym this morning I debated whether or not I'd do a trip report. I ain't got nothing else going on, so why the hell not? Playing basketball even jogged my memory a bit.

~

My first game I was on smokin'. I didn't miss a shot.

The first person I spoke with upon landing in Vegas was the Rooster. We met up at the Geisha bar then went to Casa Fuente for a smoke and the Bears-Saints game. I had a delicious Casa Fuente Belicoso Fina. The shop only sells Arturo Fuente cigars, with Casa Fuente being the house blend. You can only purchase the Casa Fuente line at the shop at Caesar's. It was a big peppery smoke with a good draw and nice long ash.

As a bonus, we were served 2 for 1 drinks by some good looking ladies.

Rooster got their digits.

~

I got to the gym pretty early today. Worked on the J and things I wouldn't attempt in front of other people.

I enjoyed bouncing between my friends of 10+ years and the invisible Internet friends. But by cracky, the rajing solo was a blast. And very necessary. Some funny/interesting things went down. A few I might even tell you about. I spent a lot of solo time at -EV games I had never played before and in front of slot machines that had 4000 different ways to win. Always with a beer or glass of vodka in front of me.

~

My hot shooting continued into the second game. That's when I did a little heat check. Two times I pulled up at the three point line on fast breaks. Both times I missed.

En route to meeting up with Heath at a blackjack table I stopped at a craps table. There were three big boobied ladies at one end. And I loves me some craps.

One of the ladies hit point after point. I looked down at my checks and saw I was up a good amount. I pocketed what I started with and placed a large pass line bet. I used the rest to take max odds and bet on 6 and 8. She needed to hit a 10 for a nice payout.

No craps bad beat stories here. But you can figure out what happened.

~

Why does that guy always wear a LeBron jersey and Cavs shorts?

Yeah. I wore a suit all weekend. The same suit every day. I changed shirts and sometimes wore a tie. There were three times that I woke up in the suit. One time I still had the coat on.

After a legen.. wait for it.. dary run in January, my friends and I said that next trip we would wear suits one night the next trip. I went all the way by never taking it off.

During one of my solo runs, what I assumed to be an underage prostitute sat next to me at a slot machine. She admired my full windsor knot. So I taught her how to tie one herself. After ten minutes she figured it out. She said, "I've never actually tied a real knot with a necktie before." The $15 I won during those ten minutes should cover the dry cleaning bill.

~

Dan is a marathon runner who gets up and down the court quickly. He's just deadly on the fast break. But when the game slows down he's just lost. He doesn't when and how to move. Fucking waste of height and athleticism.

On the way to the IP from the Venetian, there was a guy carrying some purple tube who asked us "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?" We pointed him in the correct direction. He replied, "Thanks. I need to get there soon. My buddies are getting into a fight." He was 5'2" and 95 lbs. He must have had a steel cage match lined up against the O'Shea's midget.

We had a fairly large group (including Dr Chako, The Wife, and Alan) - our pace wasn't very brisk. But we found the little guy again. And once again asked "Can you guys tell me where O'Shea's is?"

"Dude - it's still that way. And your friends are probably dead."

~

There's an old dude we play with who's completely clueless. His shot selection is horrible and his form is disgusting. But you know what? He actually hits a lot of shots.

Picture it. MGM Grand. 4:30am. It was Heath, BG, and me at a blackjack table. There was a crazy Asian kid in the first seat who didn't exactly play by the book. In fact, he probably has his own book. He hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 4. He doesn't split 8s. But he kept winning! It was just ridiculous. Or, ridicurous.

At one point, BG had the same hand as first base. 15 with the dealer showing a 6. BG said, "I'm doing what he's doing on this hand." The kid hit. BG one-upped him and doubled down. Sure enough, the two of them won. Absolutely fucking sick.

First Base: I think that's all for me guys. I'm leaving.
Me: But if you go you're gonna screw up the deck!

For an extra dollar, a bonus was payable to "colored" pairs. BG, sporting a Hitler moustache, said "they prefer African-American now," and I said, "if I show you a wedding picture, do I get paid 6-1?"

~

The worst player on the court is a trash talker. Nonstop chatter. You don't want him to get a block or steal, because he'll scream out "GET THAT SHIT OUTTA HERE!" He's 5'3" and I want to kick his ass.

A few things here.

- BG kept reminding Rena, our blackjack dealer, that she's "an awful, awful, human being."

- After a string of losing hands and pushes, I pretended to cry. Then came the hand that was gonna put me up big. I split 8s. Then split them again. The dealer had either a 4 or a 5 showing. Surely I was going to win all three hands. She took nine cards for another 21. Rena then said, "Now you can cry."

- Heath and I found a very attractive dealer standing behind an empty 3 Card Poker table. Despite never playing the game before, we sat down in front of beautiful Kelly. One of four Kellys working that day. Next thing we knew, Rooster, JoeSpeaker, Drizz, and some douchebag were at the same table.

I won a hand and yelled "DOMINATE!" loud enough for the entire casino to hear.

For the rest of her shift, Kelly would give us a flirty and taunting "DOMINAAAAATE" every time she won.

It was much better when she said it. So much better that after she felted me, Heath and I followed her to a Let it Ride table. And got dominated again. But we loved it.

~

"Guys, I forgot to bring a white shirt today. So I'll just go skins this game."

Everyone knows to bring one dark shirt and one white shirt. That's the way it's been ever since I started playing at this gym. Except for one douchebag. Fag.


Ah, the Dealertainers at the IP. Elvis could sing. Mariah had a decent ass. Janet Jackson could dance.

But Freddy Mercury? He had it all.

The Bracelet and I got to see him up close and personal while we played roulette. He sang for and to us. At one point, he did a slide along the bank of machines. As he leaned his head back to give us a wink, he knocked his head on a monitor. But he kept singing and dancing. And touching us inappropriately. No homo. OK. Total homo.

~

I had a great time seeing and meeting you all. And congrats to Gracie and SSP!

My liver and lungs are still recovering. It probably doesn't help that I caught the bird flu or ebola virus at the IP the first night.

I have just one regret. It's that for the first time in a decade, I didn't make it to a strip club.

But then again, this post woulda been about another kind of ballin'

HOLLA!