Happy Halloween

So many random things to say, where oh where to begin. Perhaps Halloween...yes, that'll do it. First of all six (6) of us dressed up as MikeL for Halloween and it was truly glorious. He took it extremely well (as we knew he would), and just well it was amazing. Special thanks to Joe Tall for donating a half dozen Deuces Cracked hoodies to the cause, and to DosEquis for, youknow, having the idea. The general consensus was that I nailed it best, using a pair of absurd costume glasses and stuffing an entire pillow into my hoodie to accurately replicate Mike's general girth. I'm going to go ahead and pussy out and not post the pictures because I think doing so could probably earn me a trip to the pink slip room (in our imaginations we have created a special room with a very large dot matrix printer whose only function is to print pink slips), but if you know me well enough to have my email address and want to see them, just fire one off and you'll get to see the good shit. Pete declared the one photo the most ridiculous thing he saw on all of Halloween.

Moving right along....The scooter has definitely broken. I closed out October with a pretty big loss, then was cruising along to put up a good day today when the floor fell out from underneath me. I got locked out of what had to be the best 40/80 game in the known universe for like 4 hours, then finally had a shot to get back in but decided to just not deal with it because I was in an amazing 20 and the 40 was going to get short and shitty soon and they were trying to start a must move and technically I should have helped out but didn't want to play with 4 props 6 handed so yada yada yada. At that moment I was something like a $2000 winner for the day and was off shift. Any sane human would go home, but not me...no no. I played another 90 minutes of 20/40, lost 2 racks, then got into the 40 which wasn't as great as it had been but was still pretty good and dusted off 3 more in 90 more minutes. To quote my boss "you're doing a fine jobs, Jesse." Fine fucking jobs indeed....

So I do manage to get myself out of the game limiting the damage (it was pretty absurd honestly, I was 0/4 in pots where I personally put the cap in preflop) and decide to go through the ordeal of getting to my box (they are doing some construction, blah blah blah, big fucking ordeal, etc etc etc) because you know I've lost like $5K in two days and don't have enough to get through tomorrow. So I go to the main cage, they get a supervisor, he walks over with me through the room with razor blades strewn all over the floor, lets me into the special room and...doesn't have the key. So he goes all the way back and I just kind of sit there for a while which is fine the point of this was that it'd likely take way too long and I wouldn't have time in the morning and I needed to pick my tilted ass up out of the game and traffic was just finally tiring itself out and long story short after like 15 minutes of red tape and walking around an standing around he hands me my box and I snake a pair of big chips out of it in 3 seconds flat and he's like "that's it?" and I'm like "they're small things" and that's that. I guess that wasn't really much of a story and I was going to add something about spending 10 minutes trying to find a functional bathroom but whatever I just don't feel like it now.

OK, what else? Ah yes, the coyotes and the small matter of my retarded dog. God bless Clint, I love him to death, but there is a distinct possibility he is the stupidest dog that I (or any of you) have ever met. I probably already mentioned putting our guys through the rigors of these tests before, but Sunday night I received more damaging evidence that Clint just isn't all there while Tyson could actually be considered a genius. So it's Sunday night, pretty late maybe 11pm or so, and it's time to take the dogs for their night time walk. Now first of all, back before we had Clint this was a super duper easy thing to do. You walked Tyson to a bush, he peed everything he had on it, you walked back inside and that was that. But not Clint, no no no. This guy has to mark like 5 or 6 bushes before he's on empty, and they have to be at least a few hundred feet apart. It's a royal pain in the ass let me tell you. Anyway, I walk out the side door and am about to get the driveway when what do I see for not the first but second time on the street directly in front of my house? Two coyotes trotting along without a care in the world, then heading up the very steep hill immediately across the street. I am not shitting you; Ki, fucking, O tees, 40 feet from our front door. This is California; we live in a community of several hundred homes all worth well into the 6 (and even 7) figures. And we have coyotes running around at night. You cannot make this shit up....anyway, back to the original point. I come back inside kind of shitting myself wondering what to do, and Danielle comes out with me and we generally make a big racket and stuff and then I tell her I got it and she goes back inside kind of irritated that I was pussy about the whole thing but whatever THEY'RE COYOTES they have no rules. So I walk the dogs down the hill and when we get to the bottom I hear it; the distinct yipping of our four legged friends. And how do my two dogs react to this, you might ask? Clint immediately starts making this weird yowling sound and prancing around, then does a play bow, basically saying "Hey Jesse you hear that I can make some new friends they want to play with me can we play them huh can we that'd sure be fun don't you think." I look at him the same way I often look at opponents at the poker table and just wonder how on Earth it was that he survived 3 weeks on the lamb somewhere between Sacramento an Clear Lake. What about Tyson, you ask? I hardly noticed because Clint was acting so ridiculously, but after removing my palms from my face I notice that he is...terrified. His hair is on end, his entire body is tense, and he is above all else making every possible effort not to move. I try to calm him by petting him and he gives me this look that just screams "You fool! The savages are near, we must be very still lest we incur their wrath!" At this point I return my attention to Clint, who has decided to roll over on his back and expose his soft underbelly to the entire world in hopes of drawing the coyotes out for quick and playful wrestling match.