damn that sasquatch

although this is not my first, or even fifth, time having visited las vegas, i've learned some things from my visit this recently past fourth of july weekend that i haven't on previous visits...

1. the buffets in sin city are large and delicious.
2. the only hold 'em game in town to play is the $0.50/$1 no limit at bill's.
3. three card poker and slot machines are for suckers.
4. don't bring kids to las vegas.

this trip was in honor of my cousin jessy's 30th birthday. the lot of us - jessy, matt (cousin-in-law), lin (aunt), dennis (uncle), alicca (sister), mike (brother-in-law), mom, ray (stepdad) and myself - flew ourselves across the country to celebrate. we checked into the flamingo and so began our weekend of compulsive gambling.

now in all my trips to vegas i've watched my dad and stepmom win time and time again playing the slot machines, so i thought that their luck might transcend time and space into the fingers in which i use to press the buttons on the machines. well for fuck's sake i thought i'd win at least one decent jackpot. $30 is decent, but not when a) i'm putting in more than i'm getting back and b) my mom's raking down $150 & $600 playing slots. she can be such a bitch sometimes. so we made our way to the hold 'em table at bill's - the cheapest game in town. the first night we played i was quite nervous seeing as i don't ever play hold 'em - live or online - and here i was gambling on a game i was a novice at. i donated $90 to bill's that particular evening. needless to say my first night of gambling had gone to shit, but not to worry...i still had 3 days to redeem myself. thursday? down.

friday rolls around, and the girls want to do more slot machining. i like to do more losing. the day is a blur of slot machine noises and 100 degree weather. later that evening the adults go to see "legends" - the celebrity impersonator show - while the kids go to see "o" - the coolest cirque de solei show ever. "o" kicked so much ass that all my losses and pissiness had immediately walked out the door. seriously...worth every penny. after the show, i find myself back at bill's with mike and only $20 to my name. i get it in chips and sit down for a spell. with my nerves from the previous night gone, i did a bit of ass-kicking. in particular, the kicking of a loud-mouthed, fat, drunkard who was giving everyone at the table advice on how to play hold 'em while listening to insane clown posse - you can't even write that shit. after telling the dealer, "you see this stack? i made this off of $20," it was the mission of the four other players at the table to chop this guy down to broke...and boy did we ever. the first up at the block to chop was me. i put him in almost half in on a hand and won - suddenly he got a bit quieter. the gentleman - whose name also happened to be mike - to my brother-in-law's right turned behind the dealer to address me and say, "we like you." then it was our new friend mike's turn to have at him. the fat turd was now drunk and had little money left. now what better way is there to beat an obnoxious asshole than to put him all in and hit on the river? there is absolutely no better way than that. i couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams i'd beat him on such a hand...and that is precisely what i did. i had a queen high hand and nothing on the turn, he had me beat with a low pair, when all of a sudden my queen's sister decided to come visit on the river card. everyone at the table's jaw's dropped. the juggalo lost it.

"oh i bet you're real happy you caught that queen on the river."

you bet your ass i was. i never like to beat anyone that way. in fact, later that night i took someone else out on the river and i apologized to her. i'm not one to like winning on the last card, but a wise man once said, "it doesn't matter if you win by an inch or a mile...winning's winning." never have you spoken truer words, mr. diesel. this guy had it coming, so nothing made me - and the rest of the table - feel better than to beat that particular guy that specific way. after the juggalo slurred out the previous statement, the rest of the table started in on him: "you didn't mind winning on the river the three other times you have tonight." he wasn't a man of reason, but a man of fine liquor and art. i quietly gathered up my winnings and waited with a smirk for my next hand to come. great success. i don't care how much money i'd win or lose the rest of the trip...i had won more in happiness than money could ever bring from that one queen. mike and myself played until the sun came out - meeting a couple of spritely scots along the way - and called it a day. i went to the poker table with $20 and left with $140. friday? still down a bit, but up in so many other ways.

after falling asleep somewhere around 6 a.m., i woke up at 1 in the p.m. i met up with my family walking the strip just to end up back at bill's. my luck had decided to fall into a pattern - i was to win every other time i sat down to play cards at bill's. having just won the previous session, it was my turn to lose. i tried my hand at three card poker having been guilted into it by mike. i've never seen $120 go faster in my life. a true sucker's game, that one. so with my lone $25 chip left, i sat down at the trusty ol' hold 'em table. my luck struck for a bit getting myself up to $100+ again. with some time left until a big dinner and bday celebration, i decided to stay - another poor decision. i pushed it all back in. now although my luck was shit for the day, i couldn't be mad at the hold 'em table...really i only lost $25 there. it was that goddamned sasquatch!...or three card poker table rather. so i left to change for the birthday celebration of a dinner at texas de brazil, and a two hour ride in a stretch cobalt. so after the celebration us "kids" changed up and met back up at the hold 'em table for my final evening of gambling.

i was not to break my streak of going to the table with $20 worth of chips, for it was the method to my madness. the first hand? king-jack. the flop? king/jack. the turn? jack. i was all in first hand, and it payed off. tonight was going to be a goodnight. i met a woman from australia who had to be at least 65 and she was delightful, and a good card player as well. she ended up being my good luck charm on my way to winning $450+. it's not because i'm some fantastic card player, i just caught a wave of cards like you wouldn't believe and i made the right moves to win pots. so then as she was about to leave i told her "if you leave, i'm leaving...because you're my good luck charm." she then handed me over a miniature koala holding a boomerang. i never thought i'd be a card player to bring a trinket to the table, but how am i not going to now? regardless of the charm, i still caught no cards after she left and i let my stack dwindle down to $400 when i decided to leave - also due to the fact that there were better card players at the table who i know would take my money if i stayed. saturday? up and up.

the following morning i got to see my pops along with being guilted into gambling more when i promised myself i wouldn't. my "winning every other time theory" was right, because i threw $100 to o'shea's $1/$2 game after going all in on ace/jack. ah what can you do? i was still up on the trip and i had redeemed my losses. all was right in the world. we caught the 5:55 p.m. flight home, strolled in around 11 p.m., enjoyed the drive home, and attempted at sleep.

this trip to vegas, unlike any other seeing as this was the first time i had money to gamble, would be one to remember. and it has now fueled my addiction to hold 'em. damn that sasquatch.

those white people must be lost or crazy.

boy was he right, and what a chicago-soaked weekend that was had.

after a train ride with some ex-convicts into the city and a cab ride to "pint", my saturday night was spent in a small bar with many people where whether or not it's uncomfortably hot or well-lit, the bar doesn't seem to care. it was a birthday celebration with a bit of bar-hopping spent with my girl and some friends and it was a bit of alright - minus the previously listed downsides on top of breaking the bank on buying liquor at the bars. sweet home chicago.

the following day we tackled the taste. neither of us having gone before we didn't know what we were getting into, but being in chicago we knew it'd be expensive. understatement of the year, and here's why...

so making the foul mistake of trusting the internet, i assumed when typing "taste of chicago" into google maps it would give me the address of the taste of chicago festival. after catching two buses and a red-line, it was apparent we were not in kansas - or downtown - anymore. being the only white people on the bus, turned the lightbulb above our heads on. jen asked a passerby where the taste was, and what was his reply? "the restaurant?" we looked across the street to see a barred up restaurant called "taste of chicago." slamdunk.

i took a dip into a sea of embarassment for a few minutes, dried off, asked a fellow red-liner where to go and he politely directed us. after telling him of our travel fouls, he had a few hearty laughs and replied: "all the black people on the bus must've thought those white people must be lost or crazy" - and why can't it be both? we caught the same bus and train to get us back to jackson st and WALKING towards the festival known as the taste of chicago (note: yes, walking...so all we had to do was take the first bus and we were within walking distance of our destination. i give you king of the idiots: me). but before we arrived there, we took a moment to really soak in the previous hours leading up to this. i cursed the chicago skyline with my fists raised high, and we crossed the street to stuff our faces.

we started our taste experience with a cajun meatball each, the first of many tasty snacks to come. although not as "cajun-y" as i had hoped, it was still delectable. we then found ourselves at the sweet baby ray's stand where a delicious barbecue-sauce-covered riblet on white bread was demolished. i will go on record as saying i will eat most anything as long as sweet baby ray's bbq sauce is involved. after the riblet, we perused our other options for a bit and came to a noodle sample from a stand i can't recall at this point - meh but filling. i was determined to try something i had not before, and it was then we came across a greek food stand. being half-greek, i told jen she must try some greek food and broaden her horizons. we indulged in loukaniko, a sweet kind of sausage on a pita - delicious. after a sit on the grass and some digestion, we hit an indian food stand. we read the descripition for something called "belh" and thought it to be only delicious - and boy were we wrong. a cold, yet spicy dish on corn puffs with some interesting paste and smells. end result? bleh. we still had time to salvage the day and after seeing a new orleans food stand, i thought i could spit some knowledge at my girl. she had not known a beignet. she now knows a beignet. although to truly know one, you have to go to cafe du monde in new orleans and get the real deal. the sample we had was more of a glorified funnel cake, but it put her in the ballpark of what it was. one day i'll take her to have the real deal, and she'll forget the poor excuse for a carnival treat she tasted at the taste of chicago in 2009.

it was still only 2:30, so the two of us took a stroll around millenium park, dipped our feet into the foot stream, saw the bean, and waltzed back to ogilvie where our chicago weekend had started. we still had just under two hours until the next train home, so we had a seat and a bit more food - because an hour's worth of samples at a food fest was not enough for us slobs. we finished our authentic panda chinese meal, and took a seat outside on this beautiful sunday. now i've never seen two lesbians fight in person before, but sometimes you just find yourself in the right place at the right time - just after the gay pride parade in front of ogilvie station. it lasted all of a few swings and hair-pulls, and lasted more in overall bickering. you could smell the estrogen in the air. after the fit of menstruation subsided, the ms. and i headed back in for the mass pileup of people waiting to get on the perspective train just having arrived from the cubs/sox game, gay pride parade, or taste of chicago.

another weekend for the books for me and mine. on the menu for tonight? public enemies. respek.

with bells on

Looking at her in the lawyer’s office sitting next to me I realized that things had not been the same for a long time…but for how long? For me it was the constant fighting that led to sleeping with someone else. What was it for her? That was the million-dollar question. She won’t even make eye contact with me anymore. Well, at least her parents can feel a bit of satisfaction in being right for all these years. Remind me to swing by the trophy shop to see if they make an award that has someone on top of it with their head up their own ass. I’ll take two of those.
Her lawyer is in the midst of his bullshit, $150-an-hour jargon when I come to the realization that there are 87 tiles in the ceiling. Is that possible? Although my carpentry knowledge extends about as far as making paper footballs, and poorly at that, I was under the impression that those sorts of things ended in even numbers. That and that my wife was willing to put a bit of effort into her life’s endeavors. 0-for-2. I’ll recount just to be sure.
“…So now that we’ve gone over all the verbage of this paperwork, do either of you have any questions?” Her lawyer asked the both of us directing the question at me.
36, 37, 38…
“Ben?! Mr. Holton is talking to you.”
Yes, Chastity, putting a title in front of Steve’s name does make me forget about you blowing him in the office we currently reside in.
“Sorry, just having a hard time swallowing all of this.”
Nothing? C’mon! HARD time SWALLOWING this?! Man, sometimes I feel like I’m trying to teach Helen Keller how to samba with these people.
The meeting, which feels more like an intervention, slowly sucks my life force away for the following hour until I follow the Hoover vacuum through the thick, wooden door with Mr. Holton’s name on it, out of the office building several hundred dollars poorer. After everything that has happened, the only thing I’m truly grateful for is not having any children. Don’t get me wrong, I would like to not pull out for once after a sweaty session with the ol’ ball and chain, and hop on the emotional and dietary rollercoaster for nine months as predictable and called upon as my father’s bowel movements, but being a child of divorce I know how hard that all can be, and currently I would rather not hear the pitter-patter of little feet who would surely one day resent me for all of the current events.
“So, same time next week?” This was my former wife’s sad attempt at humorous ice breaking.
“I’ll show up with bells on, dear.”
I really am considering showing up in a suit made entirely of bells. That couldn’t be all that difficult to fashion. I think jingle-jangling myself on the catwalk into Mr. Holton’s office would really spice up next week’s intervention, while simultaneously pissing my previous life partner off. 2-for-2. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I make for the door of my “rustic” ’93 Volvo – how befitting, a car with the male insignia looking more appropriate for an age 40 cafeteria woman – when Chas stops me.
“Ben, wait. Look, I’m…I’m sorry.”
I stop fidgeting with my keys and gaze into deep oceans she calls eyes. This is the girl who at one time I would’ve thrown my finest jacket into a puddle after the greatest storm for her to cross over. I would’ve run across a busy highway to recover her hat that had blown off during a sunny drive in our convertible for her. The day after Thanksgiving, I would’ve gone to the mall…for her. Her sorry streaks down her face alongside the egg.
“Stuff your sorries in a sack, mister.”
I love that show.

an old man & his shoes

So I'm walking down the street today when I'm stopped by an old man on a park bench. He turns to me and asks, "Say young man, what day is it?"
I replied to him, "Well sir, it's Saturday the 13th." It was right then I noticed he had no feet but instead tubes of toothpaste. I felt obliged to inform him of this.
"Excuse me for being frank, but it appears as though there is something wrong with your shoes."
"I beg your pardon?" It didn't seem unusual to him. I thought I must reiterate my concern.
"Your feet. There are tubes of toothpaste on them." His eyes gazed off into the distance for a brief moment before they focused back onto mine but this time with a determination not seen before.
"Those are not my feet...THESE are my feet!" He lunged at me using all the old man strength in his wrinkled up, prune-like form and tackled me into a row of nearby bushes knocking me unconscious.
After waking up an undeclared amount of hours later, I came to find my pants missing and my fingernails a mess - which was rather unfortunate and ironic, for my run-in had made me late to the National Association of Cleanliness & Pantaloon Enthusiasts Gala Ball.

because he dodges bullets, avi.

3 months since my last post and a whole lifetime has passed.
from couch to couch.
yes, i have parted ways with the band.
yes, i will be attending college in the fall.
yes, my life has changed pretty dramatically because of all this.
yes, for the better.
it's both hard and simple to explain, easy and difficult to understand.
i'm happy...that's all that matters.
i feel like my life is on a good track.
i'm going to enjoy family time for it will be gone before i know it.
i'm going to go enjoy alot of things before they are gone and i know it.
thank you for keeping me sane.
movies are good too.
<3

a distinct impression

yes it has been awhile since i have posted.
yes no one reads this.
in seattle, halfways done recording the album. it's turning out better than i could have expected. chris is really taking the producing reigns to a level we've never seen and casey is the engineering mastermind behind it. i'm excited.
although it makes some things harder and other things easier.
my homework is still finding its way to not getting done...it wasn't getting done when i had nothing to distract myself with, imagine it in this setting. my poor homework.
i find myself back in a phase of my life filled with stomach aches, confusion, bits of anger, and just the overall feeling of being bummed.
a day hasn't gone by in the past month where i wasn't thinking about the same things i've already been thinking about. my mind is plagued.
i can't bounce this beat.
i can't kick this rut.
it's a sad time for happiness.
i feel like i'm constantly being pulled back to square one no matter how far i am progressing at some points. a past i can't escape. frustration sets in.
when does the teen nick end and the adult one begin? can someone tell me?
*sigh*
can music even save a retch like me? i suppose so.
not sure what moves to make anymore.
guess i should start making ones i feel that i do know. what do i even know though?
i dunno, bro.
this stomach ache won't leave. i guess it's befitting.
i've lost the ability to enjoy the ride because i'm worried about it's inner workings.
i'm finding myself enjoying less things more and more.
but i'm still in love.
<3

permanent gases.

did you know that the residence time for nitrogen is 42 million years?

that makes me feel a bit better about my situation.

school has started today. i use the term school lightly.

classes: meteorology, marriage & family, elements of math, and creative management.

propagandhi wails in the background.

should be an interesting four months. 

at least the time i spend on homework will distract me from feeling the way i have been lately.

recording rd 1, dekalb in 13 days.

home in 19.

tour, southeast/south/midwest u.s. in 26.

home in 41

shows to seattle in 49.

recording rd 2, seattle in 54.

shows back home in 69.

home in 73.

back where i currently reside.

avoiding my homework.

this turpentine chaser's got kick.