Alex O'Neil's blog

Stu's Shoes and Keycoat.

I feel like I should get a few stories written down before other stories push these out of my brain. (a brain is like a cup, not a sponge)

Stu's Shoes

The setting; Its January 2009 in a cold cold cold (-40 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chill a couple of times) Chicago, IL.  I've been here 1 month, scrambling for residence with Max.  We've got about a day to get out of our current situation, which is sharing a bed in a 3 BR apartment with a couple of nice young ladies who have quickly grown sick of us. 

After a bit of Clisting housing opportunities I find something perfect for us.  A dude by the name of Stu (I kept hoping he'd look exactly like Stu from the life and times of tim) was leaving to go out of country for a month and was subletting his room which had a bunk bed, which was ideal since Rex and I were on a serious budget.  Well, we meet up with him, give him some cash, get the key and the emails of his roomates.  I get a hold of his roomies, who, as it turns out, had NO IDEA that Stu was leaving, let along subletting his room to TWO random strangers.  So, they were mad. We eventually get situated, and it turns out to be fun, the two guys in the apartment don't seem to appreciate us being there too much, but they were good sports about it. The rest of the month goes fairly well, as I crush poker online and Max works hard at the school  Thats not what this tale is about though.

At this juncture in my life I was wearing a pretty fucking ugly pair of shoes.  I'm not the most fashionable guy, and I'm certainly cheap, but this was bad even for me. I forgot to mention, Stu's room was not clean when we arrived, it was not even tidied. This, I felt, gave me a little more liberty in wearing Stu's things....  I notice these sweet hipster swede (or something) Nike low top shoes. They look pretty damned new.  And so, I wear them.  Every single day.  Through the blackened and muddy snow.  Across town in said -40 degree winds.  I wear them on sticky disgusting train rides, I wear them everywhere.

Fast forward a few weeks.  Stu is due, soon.  He shows up early, he alerts us that he'll be staying with his girlfriend for a few days while Max and I finish up our agreed upon month in his sloppy bedroom. He's come back to collect some of his belongings, including, you guessed it, his shoes.  He is franticly looking for his shoes.  I'm "helping" him look for them.  What I'm actually doing is rehiding them 2 or 3 times as he moves from room to room, corner to corner, looking underneath and around every nook.  He's saying things like "I need those shoes! My girlfriend bought them for me right before I left on my trip!" bla bla bla.  So, he grudgingly leaves shoeless.  Shoeless Stu frantic.  Its our last evening in the apartment and Max and I, and one our roommates, Jack, are all taking shots and smoking a little whacky tobacky.  Jack got along with us better than our other roommate, he'd joined us a couple of times before for some light libations, but this evening he was into it a little more.  He and Max were standing in the kitchen while I did the stu shoe hide'n'shuffle.  I debate relating the story to him, and eventually decide to.  He dies laughing.  It was good.

So, the entire month I was thinking about if I would steal this shoes.  After this whole thing happened I knew that I could not.  As best I could I cleaned up the kicks, and hid them in the back of his closet. Silly Stu, always misplacing his shoes.

Keycoat is for another day.

Four Lokos and Pork Rinds.

A few updates while I'm having a few four lokos.  I am living in Vegas, having some beers, shooting some hoops and playing some cards.  I'm finally off of all stakes and playing on my own dollar again, and things are going pretty well in that pursuit. I'm pretty sure I'll be leaving Sin City for a different city where I'll be sinning.

I've been grinding the $6.5 90 man kos on full tilt and am crushing them.  I feel like I'm at the top of my poker game and am only getting better.  Sometimes I feel a bit behind in my knowledge of the game and where I fit in in the spectrum of good players.  As of now I feel a few steps ahead of the game, and that is always a great feeling. Beating the game for decent monies is one thing, but feeling like I know something that the others do not is much better. 

 I'm thinking of starting a poker blog/log to track my results and thoughts on the game. I'd be doing this to share with friends, but mostly to use as a motivational tool for myself.  A lot of people do this and expose their ideas to the entire poker world.  I am very against this, and most "coaching", staking and information databases that exist for poker players to learn from.  I'd like it if the fish stayed fishy and the regulars stayed predictable.  This is a tough spot for me to be in, because I think I have good ideas and I certainly want to be commended for them, but the last thing I want to do is make my opponents more aware of my style.  I feel like my style is slightly unique (not to brag, most people's are unique in some way) and that explaining my thoughts I could give away a lot.   I'm sure a lot of pros who publish books and their thoughts have the same problem.   To a working square, free work free money like playing poker seems appealing, but to a swingy poker pro some variance free income with no risk of ruin has got to be nice.  I'd probably spill my guts for a pretty small price.  But since I'm not getting paid, nobody gets to know!

So, I'm going to chug down my first of two Four Lokos and get on with the reason I started this stupid blog. A story about over-drinking...next time. Since I got lazy about finishing my tale, I'll copy and paste a dirty joke/story I wrote a while ago.

sometimes I'm at a friends house, and I decide to go take a piss in the bathroom. So, I get into the bathroom and decide to up my restroom experience (masturbate), and this all goes well and dandy. Problem is, I enter back into the living room to my friends and acquaintances, and realize that I forgot to take a leak!! So now, I'm sitting, almost pissing my pants because I obviously cannot excuse myself to the toilet minutes later, trying to figure out what to do. Long story long, my bladder exploded and I'm writing you this from the hospital.

Journy

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I went to Reno with my Dad. We stayed at the luxurious Elderado Casino and Hotel. One night I decide to buy a 5th of vodka and grind online all night.  I fall asleep at 11am or so, after running poorly and having Internet issues.  I was massively pissed off until the latter half of the bottle went down my gullet. Sometime later, waking up in our stuffy hotel room with poor AC my dad is very literally shaking me out of bed, and throwing me on the floor.  He wants me, nay is making me, get up and drink Four Loko with him.  If you're not aware of Four Loko, it is fruit punch flavored 12% alcohol malt energy drink.  Anyways, he finally has me up chugging this foul beverage.  I decide since he's made me do this, I might as well play Tech N9ne to inspire me to drink and punish his old man ears.  This goes on for about an hour, then we head down to the Grand Sierra to see Marylon Manson.  We wait in line for a while, have a few beers and enjoy the show.  It was a truly great show, and neither of would call our selves "fans". Anyways, during this Reno trip with my dad my Las Vegas roommate Crysta tells me she's moving to Florida and that I should road trip with here. Being poor and  this seeming like a poorer idea, I agree.  A few weeks later of hastily getting my things together/packed up and I'm on a plane to Vegas.  Quick note; my last night in town I'm at my Dad's house in Elmira.  He has in the family room a full craps table.  We clean it up, orginzie the chips and I decide to play a little.  I give him 20 dollars cash and he gives me 20 whites and proceeds to be dealer.  I run my 20 in 167 and he hussles me and doesn't pay me.  Such a rip off.

I've got a few days in Vegas to hang out, so I call my buddy Travis and he books us a hotel room at the Excaliber.  We drink heavily, and play lots of cards.  I run well on the 100 dollars Travis loaned me and run it to 1100 or so.  Nice to have a little money for the trip.

I meet up with Crysta and we get ready for the long road trip.  She has a ton of stuff and two difficult dogs.  She seems a bit envious of my backpack, laptop bag approach to moving across the country.  I tell her that I'm not going all the way to Florida and that I'd like to be dropped off in New Orleans (where I've never been)
  The trip to NO was pretty fun, it was a 3 week journey from Las Vegas through Arizona and New Mexico with my old Vegas roommate Crysta .We stayed at cheap shady motels along the way.  We took the I40 a good portion of the time, passing through Winslow Arizona, Albuquerque New Mexico and Amarillo Texas.  Winslow Arizona was our first

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motel stop. Apparently there is an Eagles song about this place.

The motel was run by an old man who came over from the bar next door to meet up with us.  He was a nice man, who ensure us that he was "easy to get along with".  
Crysta: "Can we have dogs?"
Man: "Of course, as long as they are house trained."
Crysta: "Oh, they are."

They are not. At all.

Crysta and I had some drinks at the bar and went back to the motel room.  I decided to go back to the bar and spend some time with the locals. The mostly hispanic and Native American population of young locals welcomed me and bought me drinks.  I played pool and ate complementary popcorn from the popcorn machine.  They were celebrating one of their friends' return from jail.  One of them told me he got stabbed, and I asked how. he responded;
"Well, my friends and I were being stupid, and we saw a guy walking down the street with a paper bag with a bottle in it.  We wanted the bottle and decided to beat the shit out of him and take it.  So we kicked his ass and took the bottle.  Then the guy got up and stabbed me in the back a bunch of times.  I had to go to the hospital and have a blood transfusion.

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"

So, Winslow is a fucked up place. I would not recommend it to anyone.   More later

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Sorta typical day in Vegas

Monday, May 18th, 2009

I got up early and played a few hours of online.  I did not do well.  After that I took the bus to the HR and

played in their 1pm tournament.  I started to order shots of jager at a fast pace halfway through the

tournament.  By the last 3 shots I ordered the drink girl was giving me slightly concerned looks as I pointed

my finger to the sky and mouthed "jager" from across the room.  With my last shot she brought me a bottle of

water and kindly said "this is for you".  I'm surprised she didn't pat me on the back.  

At some point in the tournament 4 players get all in quickly and aggressively.  Our hole cards are AK, QQ,

KK, and my AA.  The board comes QAxKx.  A player who had folded announced that he folded a Q.  If true, case

A,K,Q all came.

I made a huge surge and was a massive chip leader, like 60% of chips in play with 9 players left.  Anyways, I

bled off a bit and took 2nd.

At this point I'm pretty drunk and tired, but it's fucking hot out so I'm in no hurry to head back home.  I

decide to sit in at a short handed 1/2 game with like 40 or 60 bucks and just have fun with my fresh

winnings.  The poker room manager is in the game.  I ask her what the minimum buy in is, she says 100.  I

kind of mumble about not wanting to play that for that much.

"How about 60!!" she says as I skulk off. Looking back it seems a little too enthusiastic, I think I may have

been the fish in the game.  I lose my 60 in 15 minutes and take the bus home.  it was hot.  got home, fell

asleep.

Totals:
Online: ~30-40 tournies ~-210
Live tourny: 2nd,        +130
LIve cash:                -60
Total:                   -140

Running away was a good idea.

I ran away from Portland to pursue colder interests.  I'm living in Chicago soaking up the culture and playing tons of online poker.  So far so good.   I don't even know what to write about anymore when I open up Vox.  A lot goes on, but I have difficulty articulating it through a blog.  I took a 50 hour train ride from PDX to O'Hara.  It was equal parts fun, boredom, and miserable sleep. I played more cards than I ever have, was part in inventing a few new card games that I think are awful fun, viewed more weed than I have in a public area before and experienced cold that I only though came from the hearts of female politicians.

So, Chicago is a funny place.  People are awesome straight forward and somehow nice. Everyone here takes pride in physical location.  For example, South siders love the south side and insult anyone from the north side of chicago.  This seems pretty damned silly to me.  I'm making new friends and experiencing new things, which is nice.  My entire last month has been a hodgepodge of debotury.  I'm pissed off and about to never again use Vox because I can't figure out how to simply change my spell check.  Well, that's it, I had a lot more to say and a lot more to use this stupid fucking site, but spell check magically disappeared.  I'm a horrible speller and REFUSE to use this without spell check.  Please vox, quit being a fucking disappointment to me.  I can clearly see that you had spellcheck last paragraph and no longer do.  I'm quite certain I haven't spelled every word correctly.  .adkfa;jdslfkjasd...... yup, you fuckers, that's not a word, you should underline it with red just like you did the word "Vox" ONE paragraph ago.  Apparently you want to piss me off.   I'll give you my attention of 30 seconds of scouring your horribly organized help page before I give up on this, otherwise, I'm forever done with you. . asdfsd ... 

On to a new point regarding this, why is shit so fucking hard to do online?  I'm a competent internet user, yet most sites, people online, anything, is such a piece of shit that I don't even want to turn on my computer.  I demand a lot from you internet, and you dissapoint me day in and day out.  Fuck you, fuck everyone involved in the internet. 

ramble 100.

Almost an entire 4L bottle of rosi, Christmas coffe mug at a time.  Makes for a lonely good night.  Making an estimation this is my 8th blog or so drunken.  I generally never edit or change anything in my drunken blogs even though I really want to.  That's almost always a mistake.

I've got pounds of fish in my fridge beconing my name but instead I sit in front of this headache.  The spell check isn't working and I'm pissed.  No blog afterall.  sucker,chump,fish.

Dissapointed.

Although I'm glad that Obama won (a little bit) I am overwhelmingly disappointing in my fellow man.  Hearing people's opinions and talking politics with people really made me lose respect for the voters that I know.  I'll vote when one of two things happens.

1. I'm old enough to run for presidency. (35 I think, I sure am glad that 18 is legally an adult.  Adult's without rights! yay, arbitrary!)

2. One of my TWO choices is not a christian.  C'mon! "Change"?  A rich christian who follows one side of the two in this countries political spectrum! Hazaa.

Election night made me laugh at Portland, we all knew Obama was going to win. It's not like the Blazers won the NBA finals, something worth celebrating in the streets.  Honestly though, I am glad Obama won.  I've already experience the great joys of trickle down.  Morons are happy, buy me a beer. I'll take it.  Other than that, nothing is going to change for me in the next 4 years.  The poor will stay poor, the rich may get a bit less rich, but who gives a shit.

Honestly, Portlanders, was Bush that bad?  Did you even notice a difference?  Honestly?  We worked and partied and bitched about it.  Without Bush there would be no Colbert, and that would make most of us unhappy.  To all of you newly patriotic happy folks out there, I'm happy for you. But don't be delusional, you probably won't notice a difference!

Thank goodness a small majority of this nations morons disagreed with a man that I slightly disagreed with.  OBAMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!! CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGE!

Poem

December 25th,
 A cold hand slides down my shorts
 things get interesting,
 waking up with a mess,
 I think Santa gave me a handjob

Smoking weed and playing poker

Just what I need, one vice to further the other.  Smoking and playing poker is one of my new favorite things to do.  I am certainly trying to not make a habit of it, but it sure relaxes me and helps me focus. 

I'm getting drunk and going to a show.  I hope by the end of it all I'm not wearing pants.  A night that involves pantslessness is generally an enjoyable one.  I'm not just talking about sex here. 

I'd like to have more friends and stronger connections to the old ones, maybe being a bit nicer is in order...  nah, fuck you guys.

August is always strange.

What is it about the end of August that in the last two years has left me feeling uneasy and strange?  I've had a pretty interesting month, but I'm becoming annoyed by the way I feel.  Enough of my moping.  things I did in no particular order:

insulted the ocean
got sun burnt
branded my aunt
smoked weed with my lil' brother
shaved my beard
had a funny keg party
got into the top ten in a good pinball game

I have a pretty good feeling about September, going to work a little harder (I always say that).  If anyone plans on trying poker as a living do your best not to have a drinking, I won't say problem, but whatever it is that I have... I know, make sure you don't drink way too fucking much.  Wise words from a dumb man.  Later suckers.  Next time I'll write a better blog, I'm pretty rusty.  Too much moisture in my metal parts.