Sunday, January 29, 2006

Saltwater Sunday

I had a most delightful evening planned. Hawiian beef from the world's worst Chinese restaurant on Hanover St in Boston's North End, pineapple juice and Fresca (a delightful combination), and finally Brigham's Mocha Almond for desert. An episode or two of The Sopranos on OnDemand, followed by bed at a reasonable hour. Sunday morning I'd wake up refreshed and watch "Saltwater Sunday" on ESPN 2. Does it get any better?
All was going as planned. Dinner was about what I've come to expect from China House. I hit the sack about 11:30 and was sleeping like a baby until 2:00AM, at which time the phone rang. Now... for most people, when the phone rings it's bad news. When the phone rings at 2:00AM at my place it can only mean one thing; booty call.
I was right as to the purpose of the call. My friend Ann, whom I had been out with a few times, apparently had a few beers. I then found myself faced with a dilemna. Do I get out of bed and drive to Ann's place, or do I stay snug and warm in bed catching up on some very much needed sleep. For those of you who know me, the answer was obvious.
Out of bed, brushed my teeth, a bit of love potion, and finally some pants, off I went.
The particulars are unimportant. I left the house at 2:15AM and came back at 6:00AM. So much for "Saltwater Sunday"...

As I write this, I'm watching The Transporter. I like the French policeman.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

late night

Well, I've been sleeping all day. Had a rather late night last night. I walked in the door at 7:00AM.
Got a call from my buddy Pete (OMBM). He and his girlfriend were heading down to Foxwoods Casino . Having nothing better to do, I met up with them after work.
I'm pretty poor this week so I withdrew $200 from the ATM when I got there, and bellied up to the nearest craps table.
It's said that you sould never gamble money you can't afford to lose, but here I was doing it. I had $240 to last until I got paid again and I was betting hard-ways and the pass-line at a craps table with a bunch of people whom I assume were all on some type of public assitance.
I only stayed a few minutes at the craps table. It was obvious that if I stayed longer, I'd have to borrow money from Pete to affoed gas for the drive home. I lost about $40 but, once again, it was money I couldn't afford to lose.
I went over to the poker room and got on the list to play $1 to $5 seven card stud. Half an hour later I was called and coincidentally they sat me at a table where Pete was playing. The other players represented the typical cross-section of America that makes gambling so entertaining. There was the androgenous old person (apparently a very deaf old man), there were a handful of Chinese people, a couple of nice old guys and the token black guy.
I was seated next to a nasty old woman. Her hair was thinning worse than mine, and to say her breath was foul is an absurd understatement. I made it my goal to take every panny from these people (it wasn't a friendly game after all, it was a money game).
I engaged in some casual conversation with the man to my right. I was a bit surprised when he asked if I'd ever had a colonoscopy. He was rather insistent that I should because he had recently had 14 inches of his colon removed due to colon cancer.
This distracted me from my goal of fleecing the humps around the table. I quickly found myself down $200.
Someone left and I moved over to the #2 seat. I was sitting next to Pete now and we figured it would be a good idea to get drunk.
Well apparently when I get drunk, I'm the world's best poker player. I was to a point where I was putting up my ante from the few dollars left in my wallet. Within what seemed a very few minutes, I had several hundred dollars in front of me and a nice buzz as well. The buzz may have been because I hadn't eaten since 10:00AM. The majority of the money came from the stinky old lady and the deaf bastard.
I'm fairly obnoxious when I play poker and I'm particularly so when I'm bombed. This was playing into my benefit. "Don't hate the player, hate the game".
At 3:00AM it was time to head home. I had "miles to go before I slept".
I stopped at the deli to get a big messy pastrami sandwich and a couple of pickles for the ride home. While I was in line, I struck up a conversation with an enormous black lady from Dorchester.
I jumped in the car and headed home (roughly 100 miles away). Up a few dollars and out a lot of sleep.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Who is the Tuna Helper?

I'm a single, 37 year old guy. I live in downtown Boston.

I work for an investment management company in the town I grew up in. I work with mid-market 401(k) plans.

I hold an OUPV (Operator of an Uninspected Passenger Vessel) license issued by the US Coast Guard and operate a charter fishing boat called "Tuna Helper". We fish for striped bass, bluefish, bluefin tuna, and sharks.

In addition to being a licensed stock-broker and fishing boat captain, I am also a superhero. In the weeks and months that follow, I'm sure you'll agree.

Bienvenue

Hello and welcome.
I intend to post my thoughts and experiences here. I welcome and look forward to any comments you may choose to add.
Q. Why bother reading my blog as opposed to any of the myriad blogs avalable?
A. Because I am really funny and I do a lot of crazy shit