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Wednesday, December 22nd, 2004
4:51 pm - Go Fuck Yerself
My life must be somewhat boring if the only time I ever post is when I take a yearly trip into drunken oblivion. Then again, maybe everyone else in the world writes in their journal too much. Friends, that was a cheap shot. *Kiss*

Yeah so nothin TOO crazy happened this time, no fire extinguishers or anything like that, but I DID get drunk and I DID win a lot of money again. So we get there on Friday night about 9:00pm, we're walking to get some pizza and I notice a new craps table about to open. Since I always play a new table, everyone went on without me while I waited. I played for about 10 minutes on the first shooter's roll, and ended up +200. So after pizza and more beer, and more cocktails and another beer, me and my buddy stagger over to the poker room at Harvey's. Started in a 3-6, moved to a 5-10, went back to a 3-6 .... and then for some reason, maybe, just maybe it was the liquor doing my thinking for me, I decide it might be a good idea to play a 20-40 game.

For all you poker neophytes, this means that during the first two rounds of betting your bets will be in increments of $20, and for the second two rounds your bets will be in increments of $40. Anyway, I was up about $250 at this point and since I'm trying hard to improve my game, I decided what the hell let's try it out. Plus the dealer was cute so I took a seat at the table and obviously the pickup-line gods were smiling down upon me that day because I said ... "So ... how late do you have to work tonight" .... yeah. So then she left (not because of me, it was her turn to rotate out. I swear.) and then the game started. I mess around with these big ballers for a couple hours, told one guy to take it easy on me, I'm a college student ... he looks at me while he's raising me again and says "oh yeah, what college? MIT?" ... Not sure if that was a compliment or an implication that I was cheating or ... anyways the money shot here is that one time I had pocket Queens, head to head with this Russian guy, the bet was capped. That means that before the flop, we each reraised each other to the maximum of 1 bet + 4 raises equaling $100 each. So there's $200 in the pot and the flop comes 6-Q-6. Full hizzy, thank you very much. So there was some more betting and stuff and I end up walking away with about a $400 pot and putting myself up about $650 on the first night.

Very nice. It's 5am, time to sleep (for two hours, thanks a lot Hince). So I bought the boys some breakfast and started playing craps again. So I'm basically sleeping while I'm standing and make another $100. This is getting ridiculous right? So long story long, once again, I'm done gambling at about 9pm. Up 500. So all my friends and I go to the bar at Caesar's called Cleo's. There's live music, some assholes playing top 40 and some crackhead doing a horrible but very amusing impression of Travolta in SNF without even intending to.

Oh yeah, before when I was walking from Harvey's back to Caesar's to start the drink-a-thon some random girl walks up, introduces herself, and asks me if I want to fuck. My reply? Yeah, but not you. Yeah I'm a dick, but I don't think she heard me and she looked about 16 anyway.

So anyway we're right around the corner from completely belligerent when we're ordering more drinks and the serving chick just up and says to me "what'd you say? you need a date?" I was like, "What? Do I look like I need a date? Do YOU need a date?" And she said yeah. So I asked her what time she got off, fully expecting to humor the girl and never see her again. She says "3". I was like damn that's late but you might be cute enough to get stood up so I gave her a nice fat tip (the drinks, perverts) and sent her on her way.

We drank for about two more hours and then I don't remember much until .... I'm standing face to face with a bouncer from the hotel over by the elevators, which is a short walk from "Cleo's". I mean, that's when I *woke up*. And the first thing I remember him saying are these words: "I don't appreciate being told to 'go fuck myself'. Now you've got two choices here, you can go up to your room right now, or you can go to jail." Hmmm... And since when can you not sleep in a deserted bar at 3 am?? I'm IN the fucking hotel. I'm not renting it fucking shoes. It's not taking your fucking turn, dude. I don't see what the big deal was. Anyway, so I get flagged on to the room and according to eyewitness accounts, I stripped down to my boxers and tried to cuddle with my friend Hince. This prompts him to get up, collect our friend Bob and drive home at 3:30. Whoops. Dude I just got yelled at by the Bald Bull, I just needed a little love man.

So that was my trip, good times good times. Anyone reading this ever been in jail in Tahoe? I bet it's cold.

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Thursday, November 4th, 2004
2:24 pm - wrong - 'ro[ng] (n):
1 a : an injurious, unfair, or unjust act : action or conduct inflicting harm without due provocation or just cause b : a violation or invasion of the legal rights of another; especially : TORT
2 : something wrong, immoral, or unethical; especially : principles, practices, or conduct contrary to justice, goodness, equity, or law
3 : the state, position, or fact of being or doing wrong: as a : the state of being mistaken or incorrect b : the state of being guilty
synonym see INJUSTICE

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Wednesday, October 15th, 2003
3:00 pm - Fire Marshall Bill
More craziness to tell you all about. It seems to be happening more and more frequently. The increasing occurence of these "significant" events could be signaling a major change for the human race. Read Kurtzweil's Age of Spiritual Machines if you want to know what I'm talking about. And don't you ever disrespect me.

So me and five close friends decided to head up to Tahoe on Saturday, for some gambling, drinking, carousing, more drinking and more gambling. We get there around 6, hang out in our room for a few minutes drinking some beers, bringing about a head-change, and then head off to dinner. We tried to go to Jason's, which is I guess the hot spot for dinner in North Shore, but it was packed with a 40 minute wait so we cross the street to "Las Panchitas". Nice family restaurant. I ordered the "belly buster" which was anything but. Good special sauce though. We also saw some guy walk in with his family and order for his wife -- super tough, too. Picture David Hasselhoff with straight blond hair, and an air about him that just convinces you that he beats his wife AND his kids, and that's this guy. Justin, possibly in a sign of things to come, yells out to the guy "good job, buddy!" as soon as he gets done ordering his wife's carnitas. Anyway, so we bounce, drive back to Cal-Neva where we stayed, and walk over to the Biltmore.

Now, casinos in North Shore always leave a little to be desired, they're small, they stink and most of the time you're gambling with Grandma and Grandpa in from Missouri. We play some craps, I go up about 100 thanks to Huot's hot hand with the dice and then promptly lose all the winnings. Awesome, I'm such a sick-ass gambler I can hardly stand it. So we gather up the cr&;e and head across the street to the Crystal Bay casino. Actually it was never referred to by its proper name, only simply "Cristal". We walk in and I'm immediately impressed. It's very small, but they have a really cool bar, a live band playing all kinds of old school shit, and a pretty live craps table. I love craps, it's one of my, ahem, few vices. So we get caught up playing for awhile, bankroll fluttering like an old man on life support, drinking like we just crossed the Sahara.

A few of us didn't have the cash necessary to gamble it away and have fun, so they just chilled in the bar and proceeded to get nice and saucy. I put down the dice for a little while and hang at the bar with Laysia and Justin, drinking and checking out the band, among other things ;). Now, it's probably around 11pm by now, not late by any means, but we're proceeding towards rarity with breakneck speed. Some 30-ish girls are in the bar, and one of the bigger ladies approaches us for some dancing -- Needless to say our judgement is slightly affected. So I take off for a few more drinks and some more dice ... losing more than I'm winning, I pulled 200 from the ATM at the start of the night and I'm down to 80. Time for another drink from the bar; "Cristal" is not living up to it's name. The Long Islands I was getting at the craps table tasted like Isla Fubar and I needed a kick. I hang out with the boys who are enmeshed in some semblance of a conversation with one of the ugliest girls I've ever seen. To be fair, her friends were hot, but isn't the way it always works? Kinda like a wingman in reverse. I don't understand women. Never will.

Anyway, when I finally make it back to the craps table, I'm the only one in sight. I say to myself, goddamn, if you can't win on yourself then what do you have in life? I quickly lose $20. I put down another $20, prepared to lose that too and go home with my tail between my legs -$160. And then the heavens opened up, and behold, the gods smiled upon me and I ended up walking out of there +$400.

Alright are you still with me? Here's where the party really starts. We head back to the hotel for a quick break, maybe to head to the baby Nugget, maybe to go to bed, I'm not sure, but the point is we were getting ready to regroup. We reach the hotel room and Justin is so drunk he can barely get the room key out of his wallet. So he stumbles around some more and falls on the ground, kicking his legs and screaming racial slurs at us, who just wanted to inhale a little and kick back. So we finally get the card away from him, open the door and get inside. By this time Huot and J are jawing back and forth, Huot throws a good slap at Justin, who at this point I will pass judgement on and say that he deserved it ... So Justin retaliates by kicking Huot square in the nuts just about as hard as I've ever seen anyone kicked. Huot falls to the ground, hand down his pants Al Bundy style and passes out cold. We're laughing and stunned all at the same time.

And then Justin leaves the room. I hear a knock about 30 seconds later, followed by approximately 7 seconds of dead silence. Then a huge white cloud of vaporous material comes streaming into the room from underneath the door. WTF? Actually I didn't spend too long thinking about it, I knew what it was right away. But I figured a harmless (well, maybe slightly-less-harmful) prank was under way, we would endure a short blast and that would be the end. But wouldn't you know it, Justin emptied the entire contents of that fire extinguisher into our room. I couldn't see the other end of the room it was so thick. Me, Huot and Laysia are hanging our heads out the window, trying to get a blow and McC goes barreling out of the room looking for Justin. He finds him at the end of the hall, and J, in his infinite wisdom, makes a smart ass remark about us locking him out or something. McC just loses it and hits him in the face, knocks him to the ground. Justin picks up a coffee pot from a room service tray and brains McC with it and they wrestle for a few more seconds before security, apparently fully appraised of our situation, comes barreling out of the elevators to seperate them.

And once again, long story long, Justin gets charged about $500 in damages to our room, we get kicked out of the hotel, and are forced to head home. It was a crazy night but winning 400 dollars goes a long way towards changing a guy's constitution. I can't wait until we go again.

And oh yeah. I saw Primus last night in Davis. They suck!!!

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Friday, August 29th, 2003
11:18 am - The Grizzly
Haven't updated this damn thing in awhile. Again. Welcome to a couple of new people on my friends list, and hopefully I'll make it worth your time to read my journal :) Okay, so anyway, I went camping in Yosemite last weekend. And there were bears everywhere. Neh. But that's what surfer-guy park ranger would have us believe as we pull into camp on friday afternoon. Puka shells and bleached blonde hair was about as far from the beach as you can get and still be in California. I just scratched my head as his instructions flowed across time and space, into my left ear. Out my right ear.

We got there late Friday afternoon, to be precise, thanks to a navigational miscalculation on the part of yours truly. Since we planned on playing a lot of poker, I was preparing myself. There were signs everywhere pointing to Yosemite -- so many in fact, that I figured they were bluffing. So I missed the turnoff. Big fucking deal.

There were about 15 of us, spread out over 3 campsites. Crane Flat, #222-226. You care. Of particular interest were the metal boxes at each campsite, designed to keep food in and all of the ferocious wildlife of Yosemite National Park out. Unfortunately, we brought about 30 beers. Each. There was no way all of our accouterments would fit in the bear box. So we had to leave some stuff out. Fine. Whatever. Anyway, the first night is great, we grilled up some dogs and cats I mean burgers and then played poker until about 2 am. When I retire to my tent there's about three or four guys still up, who were sleeping together in one tent, "The Gentlemen's Club". Anyway, they're wasted and deciding whether or not to cook up some more turkey burgers. At 2 in the morning. Their decision is finally made when, right after someone says the words "turkey burgers", I hear a low growl emitting from the forest behind our campsites. Wow. I poke my head out of the tent and see asses and elbows and legs all in a mad scramble to jump into the gentlemen's club. HA hahahaha. We discuss the incident in the morning. Adam: "There's no fucking bears out there. Shut the fuck up." Jason: "Dude, I don't know if it was a bear or not, but I definitely heard something out there." Me too. I guess I shouldn't have taken that bath in barbecue sauce before I went to bed.

The next morning we took a short hike to Yosemite Falls. It was cool to see, there was a large pool at the bottom with people swimming, etc. It was interesting to read about the history of the falls, apparently the winds wreak havoc on the waterfall, some famous explorer counted 90 seconds of the wind cutting the fall flat in midair back in the early 1900's. At about 1pm we drove back to our campsite and got a nice surprise. One of our ice chests full of food had been confiscated by Ranger Shirley and we got a warning with infractions as follows: and I quote, "Ice chest with food left outside of bear box. Trash left out and scattered by ravens. Picking flowers unlawful in yosemite." Picking flowers unlaw....what are you, a fucking park ranger now? Is this your homework, Larry? Is this your homework? You're entering a world of pain, son.


Well, goddamnit. Another buzzkill. Let's head up to the "ranger kiosk", like this is some fucking backwoods comdex or something, and reclaim our stolen ice chest. We're informed that we can't get it right now, Ranger Nancy and Ranger Bob have to come out to our campsite and give us a little lecture before we can get our shit back. Okay, fine. I've sat through plenty of these lectures, not listening to a single word, which is probably why I sit through so many of them. Fine, time to smizzle a j and then drink some beers and wait for Ranger Sally. They show up about half hour later and give us the full monty. I mean, they both strip completely naked and let the bears lick honey off their backs. Okay, no. Honestly I wasn't really paying attention until I heard "Yeah, I'm gonna have to cite you guys, it's gonna be about a $150 fine." Wha? Are you? I'm not! The bears are not the issue here, dude. Nothing happened, the warning isn't enough? Fucking christ. Alright, well that's fine, write me up the ticket and get the fuck out of here Ranger Lady. Wouldn't you know it, Ranger Dave tries to get cute with us while his partner is writing up my citation. "So, how's it goin, besides that?" Are you fucking kidding me dude? That's all I'm going to say about that. And then the Ranger Lady went out of her way to make a lady friend carry the ice chest about an extra 30 yards. If there's any lj'ers out there who need a job, and you don't have any manners whatsoever, apply to be a park ranger in Yosemite. Trust me. Anyway, to make a long story, well, long, we took our citation right on the chin, I took a nice hit to my wallet that night in a ferocious round of texas hold'em and we got packed up and out of there by 10am the next morning.


A pretty awesome trip all around, except for the hundred and fifty dollar fine. And I didn't see one goddamned bear. For $150, I was hoping someone would get their arm ripped off or something...

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Wednesday, October 23rd, 2002
1:56 pm
"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."

- Benjamin Franklin

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Wednesday, October 2nd, 2002
12:44 am
I saw an advertisement today that I had to look twice at. The product was Popup Eliminator software. The advertisement was on a popup window.

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Wednesday, August 7th, 2002
3:19 pm
Bill Hicks > on censorship...

"This is what I think CBS, the producers of the Letterman show, the networks and governments fear the most - that one man free, expressing his own thoughts and point of view, might somehow inspire others to think for themselves and listen to that voice of reason inside them, and then perhaps, one by one we will awaken from this dream of lies and illusions that the world, the governments and their propaganda arm, the mainstream media, feeds us continuously over fifty-two channels, twenty-four hours a day.

What I realised was that they don't want the people to be awake. The elite ruling class wants us asleep so we'll remain a docile, apathetic herd of passive consumers and non-participants in the true agendas of our governments, which is to keep us separate and present an image of a world filled with unresolvable problems, that they, and only they, might somewhere, in the never-arriving future, may be able to solve. Just stay asleep, America. Keep watching television. Keep paying attention to the infinite witnesses of illusion we provide you over 'Luciferís Dream Box'."

- Bill Hicks, from a letter to John Lahr (published in The New Yorker, 1 November 1993), a following the censorship of his act on The Late Show with David Letterman, for content deemed "unsuitable."

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Tuesday, August 6th, 2002
1:46 pm - The Zen Art of Golf
The textbox I'm typing into right now has a title of "Event:". I think, for the first time in the history of my journal, a post is truly deserving of such a title.

I was drinking some beers last night with my roommates and we decided to head over to Haggin Oaks to hit some golf balls. I mean, we would use golf clubs. To hit golf balls. Then said balls would sail out into the driving range. Out of harm's way.

Tim, Adam, and I drove out and met up with our buddy Kurtis. Kurtis is an eccentric individual. He loves simple pleasures, like butter in his ass and lollipops in his mouth, but that's neither here nor there. Kurt works as a server and, luckily for everyone involved, is part-time training to become an EMT.

The time is currently 11:05 pm. I'm hitting balls and my driver is ON, baby! I'm gettin a stiffy every time I spank one out, cause I really suck at golf. I notice that Kurt is not doing as well as I am, shanking a few here and there. He's not a golf expert, but who is? You? what? Anyway, the next time I see him swing, it's only about .043 seconds afterwards that I see an incredibly fast moving UFO rocketing past me about 12 inches to the left of my beautiful face. It's small, circular, and white.

I barely had enough time to thank my lucky stars that the UFO had not decided to target me when I turned around and noticed that the small, delicate Asian woman behind me had not fared so well. The UFO had connected with her head about an inch above her eye, leaving a nasty two-inch gash, bounced out into the range, and made its' escape....before we left there was a guy driving a big tractor out in the driving range, presumably looking for the UFO that wreaked all the havoc. I hope they find that motherfucker. They'll be able to identify it by the skin, hair, and blood no doubt plastered to it.

Man she went down like a somebody had hit her in the eye with a golf ball or something. She was obviously in extreme pain, and from the looks of the blood gushing out of her eyebrow, she would need immediate medical assistance.

Here's the important part of the story: with no regard for his own safety, my buddy Kurt rushes onto the scene to examine the woman, assess her injuries, bark out some orders for a cell phone and some tissues, and proceed to treat and comfort the woman until paramedics arrive. It took probably 10 minutes for the ambulance AND fire truck to arrive, during which time the woman progressed from writhing on the ground in pain, to sitting upright and crying, to laying on her back mumbling some stuff, to violently shaking while she was in shock, to calming down when the medics finally arrived, to being wheeled away on a stretcher.

That shit really killed my buzz, man.

And bravo, Kurt, for taking charge of the situation and averting a potential tragedy at the all-night driving range.

P.S. I am never going golfing with you again Kurt. I don't care if you can treat my injuries afterwards...

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Monday, July 29th, 2002
7:43 pm
"Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against."
- Thomas Carlyle

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Tuesday, July 2nd, 2002
6:16 pm
"it is a cruel joke that God played"

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Wednesday, May 29th, 2002
2:39 pm
KINGS MOTHERFUCKER!

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Monday, May 6th, 2002
11:32 am
dude. no fucking way.



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Friday, May 3rd, 2002
1:27 pm - Ask a stupid question...
J. Craig Venter's response to some mass-media jackhole when asked if his interest in surfing and sailing influenced his recent moves into the business of exploring alternative energy sources:

"I guess from surfing and sailing, you're much more acutely aware of environmental conditions all the time, and I guess that's a good a reason as any," he said. "I also like to breathe."

Read

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Wednesday, April 17th, 2002
11:41 pm
"Ideas are more powerful than guns. We would not let our enemies have guns, why should we let them have ideas?" - Joseph Stalin

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Friday, April 12th, 2002
1:21 pm
sentient (sentiens)
sycophant
reticent
extant

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Thursday, April 11th, 2002
11:01 am - Jules
Say what again! Say what again! I dare ya. I double dare ya muthafucka! Say what one more goddamn time!

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Wednesday, April 10th, 2002
12:45 pm
So I'm working on this contract project for a car lot. Have another import to do for the inventory. You want some Cajun Man?! Huh, bitch?! You know you want it...

"Comma-delimitatiON! SQL Query AnalyzatiON! UPDATE statement optimizatiON! Import utility processizatiON!"

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11:47 am - Yeah baby
I'm back up in this motherfucker!

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Thursday, November 16th, 2000
1:44 am - I can't sleep
It's been way over a month since my last post. Sue me.

It's ironic because my last post is about a cold I caught. I caught it again just this past Monday and I'm finally getting over it. Again. No matter. Things are going good. I start full-time again with SacWeb on Monday and I couldn't be happier about that. Finally get some steady, substantial money rolling in. Pay off my bills, start saving for a Europe trip the roommates are talking about. Paris, Amsterdam, maybe some Spain. Who knows if it will actually happen, but I'll have the money to go regardless. If we don't go, maybe I can spend it on a streetbike. I always wanted one of those.

Hopefully I can start keeping a somewhat current post in my journal. Now I'm going to bed.

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Monday, October 9th, 2000
11:34 pm
Well this sucks complete ass. I'm sick as a dog, and I'm supposed to be starting a new (well, sorta) job tomorrow. It's with a company I used to work for. I'm going back on a part time basis, starting tomorrow. If I'm not dead, that is.

Well I guess it's not that bad. I'm not in the hospital or anything. I'll force myself to get up and go to work tomorrow, but no telling if I'll be able to stay the whole day or not.

I absolutely hate being sick, and the sickness I hate worse than anything is having a sore throat. I know I'm supposed to be drinking lots of fluids blah blah blah, but I can't fucking swallow anything! I guess I should take it as a good sign that I still have an appetite for food, but the goodness of that sign is diminished by the fact that I can't eat anything. I'm sitting at my computer, bundled up in sweats and a hoody, with the hood up to keep my head warm, and there's people carousing and having a good time downstairs. It's Monday Night Football at our house, which usually lasts until long after the game actually ends. I should be down there drinking beer and talking trash with my buddies, but I'm up here feeling sorry for myself.

There. I've spread my bad cheer to all who read my journal. It's not making me feel any better. Maybe if I can spread the actual sickness to someone tomorrow, it may brighten my day. I'll let you all know what happens.

If I'm not dead, that is.

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