Back From Vacation
Yeah. A week at the beach with the fam. I must say, sitting on the deck, looking out at the ocean, with the moon overhead, smokin' weed is pretty nice. During the daytime the parade of 15 and 16 year old ass was also pretty nice -though depressing- as it is now sadly, irreperably, out of reach. Those was the days.
The air was hot and the water was cool, the sand was sugary and made a nice ash tray for my innumerable butts, which I smoked to relieve the tension of being surrounded by my family for an entire week, or to enhance my cool during times of Woodford's and sunsets.
If they ever swear me in they ought to have me place my hand on a bottle of Woodford's instead of the bible 'cause that shit is da' truth.
I also did some half-ass jogging, which basically entailed me walking about 1/4 mile, saying fuck it, and walking back. I only did it so I could reward myself with something afterward, (a swim, a milkshake, a drink, a toke, or a smoke). Sometimes all of the above.
I rented a Waverunner for an hour. It was shades of Mexico as the instructions were almost criminally negligent. All I remember the guy saying was, "if it tips over there's instructions on the back." I'm thinking, "Yeah, when I'm bleeding from my head after getting tossed like a rag doll out in the middle of the water I'm gonna be reading a fucking manual."
Anyway, it was choppy as fuck, and my niece was riding on the back which made the thing hard as fuck to control and made me overly cautious. There was about a million things I could've hit out there and the water was constantly spraying in my face. I couldn't see a fucking thing. Fighting all these obstacles and wrestling with this thing I inadvertantly wandered out of the proscribed "area" for Jetskiing. Way out. What the fuck did I know? It was two little-ass buoys half a mile from shore. Next thing I know some 16 year old jerk-off kid is screaming at me to go back to shore. I got a time-out. By the way, this shit cost $125 an hour so I was not exactly happy about cooling my heels. Especially since I didn't even know what the fuck I was doing. I fantasized about kicking the shit out of this fucker back on shore while I revved the throttle.
After about a half an hour I dropped my niece off at shore and went off by myself. Then it was fun. I wasn't worried about killing anyone else and it was easier to control. That's when I started doing the shit you see those guys doing. You kind of half-stand like you would on a galloping horse and pin that fucker till you can barely hang on and then ease off the throttle, take a tight turn, rev it up again and zoom off. Still, it wasn't something I fell in love with. My ass is still killing me two days later.
I went to A.C. with my dad. It's become something of a tradition. We went to the Taj and entered the Hold'em tournament. Waiting for the tourney to start I got my feet wet with a little $3/$6 against the old fogies and made a couple bucks. I was feelin' good goin' into it but my luck didn't hold. The competition was as tough as it gets. I noticed several pro players from TV sitting at the tables. One was right next to my dad. I was out of my league and bounced out within an hour. My dad on the other hand, was unconcious. He just kept winning. The tournament lasted over five hours and he ended up finishing third. He was the chip leader for most of it, I think he just got tired at the end. At the final table I sat behind him as he played. He knows everything about cards and nothing about casino ettiquete, and was so obliviously, beautifully inept it almost seemed like a hustle. It totally pissed off the other players and worked to his advantage though I know it wasn't intentional. Because behind all the confusion he knows what the fuck he's doing.
Later, during times of Woodford's and sunsets he told me that four out of five of his life's goals were now complete. "A hole-in-one, making the final table..." and he didnt' mention the other two. The only thing he still wanted to do was publish a poem. I asked him if the other two were anything along the lines of wife, kids, college degrees, becoming a doctor etc... and he brushed me aside with a "nah," and we laughed. Like I said, that shit is da' truth.
The air was hot and the water was cool, the sand was sugary and made a nice ash tray for my innumerable butts, which I smoked to relieve the tension of being surrounded by my family for an entire week, or to enhance my cool during times of Woodford's and sunsets.
If they ever swear me in they ought to have me place my hand on a bottle of Woodford's instead of the bible 'cause that shit is da' truth.
I also did some half-ass jogging, which basically entailed me walking about 1/4 mile, saying fuck it, and walking back. I only did it so I could reward myself with something afterward, (a swim, a milkshake, a drink, a toke, or a smoke). Sometimes all of the above.
I rented a Waverunner for an hour. It was shades of Mexico as the instructions were almost criminally negligent. All I remember the guy saying was, "if it tips over there's instructions on the back." I'm thinking, "Yeah, when I'm bleeding from my head after getting tossed like a rag doll out in the middle of the water I'm gonna be reading a fucking manual."
Anyway, it was choppy as fuck, and my niece was riding on the back which made the thing hard as fuck to control and made me overly cautious. There was about a million things I could've hit out there and the water was constantly spraying in my face. I couldn't see a fucking thing. Fighting all these obstacles and wrestling with this thing I inadvertantly wandered out of the proscribed "area" for Jetskiing. Way out. What the fuck did I know? It was two little-ass buoys half a mile from shore. Next thing I know some 16 year old jerk-off kid is screaming at me to go back to shore. I got a time-out. By the way, this shit cost $125 an hour so I was not exactly happy about cooling my heels. Especially since I didn't even know what the fuck I was doing. I fantasized about kicking the shit out of this fucker back on shore while I revved the throttle.
After about a half an hour I dropped my niece off at shore and went off by myself. Then it was fun. I wasn't worried about killing anyone else and it was easier to control. That's when I started doing the shit you see those guys doing. You kind of half-stand like you would on a galloping horse and pin that fucker till you can barely hang on and then ease off the throttle, take a tight turn, rev it up again and zoom off. Still, it wasn't something I fell in love with. My ass is still killing me two days later.
I went to A.C. with my dad. It's become something of a tradition. We went to the Taj and entered the Hold'em tournament. Waiting for the tourney to start I got my feet wet with a little $3/$6 against the old fogies and made a couple bucks. I was feelin' good goin' into it but my luck didn't hold. The competition was as tough as it gets. I noticed several pro players from TV sitting at the tables. One was right next to my dad. I was out of my league and bounced out within an hour. My dad on the other hand, was unconcious. He just kept winning. The tournament lasted over five hours and he ended up finishing third. He was the chip leader for most of it, I think he just got tired at the end. At the final table I sat behind him as he played. He knows everything about cards and nothing about casino ettiquete, and was so obliviously, beautifully inept it almost seemed like a hustle. It totally pissed off the other players and worked to his advantage though I know it wasn't intentional. Because behind all the confusion he knows what the fuck he's doing.
Later, during times of Woodford's and sunsets he told me that four out of five of his life's goals were now complete. "A hole-in-one, making the final table..." and he didnt' mention the other two. The only thing he still wanted to do was publish a poem. I asked him if the other two were anything along the lines of wife, kids, college degrees, becoming a doctor etc... and he brushed me aside with a "nah," and we laughed. Like I said, that shit is da' truth.
posted by El Bozo at 1:04 AM
1 Comments:
that's fucking hilarious about pops. did he win any significant monies?
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