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The weekend’s almost over and I feel like it’s still Friday night. Fairly interesting weekend we had here in Cali. Friday night was Poker Night and Saturday night was Modern Dance Night. I dub Sunday The Day For Rest at this point, because I didn’t wake the fuck up until damn near 2pm. It’s 4 now and I am realizing that the last vestiges of the my days off are slipping through my grasp. I still have to clean the office, the bedroom, and the kitchen. It ain’t gonna get done today I think.

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Last night the roomies went down to the local T.G.I.Friday’s for some down home suburban excitement. I saw my future in the human beanbag sitting by the bar and realized that I had better keep my diet up. I WANT TO BE THIN. If only for a day, I want to live the world the way the Judd Jacobs and the Scott Fourniers do. Come off it Scott, you’re fucking thin. You have like 10% body fat or some shit. Go puke after lunch you bulimic whore.

Just joking people. Also Scott is, in fact, correct in his observation:

“if only u could fit a no-fun-sombrero around a whole house…”

I made a mockery of friendly comraderie last evening when, returning home from a dinner of steak and steamed vegetables, I decided not to travel down to San Jose to go to the show at Agenda. I apologize. How was the show? I definitely have to make more of an effort to get out. See, right now our house functions as sort of a carnival. You’ve got everything under one roof: drinking, gambling, video games, movies, a restaurant, sex. You have to understand that it gets hard to motivate oneself to leave. “Why should I go? I can have just as much fun here.” is the prevailing thought. I know that thought is misguided. I think it has something to do with the current weather, too. I mean, honestly, after all I said above, pile on the fact that it’s raining and cold outside all the time. Would you want to leave the House of Stuff To Do to go out into it? You’d probably be delighted to live in such a place.

Again, sorry to all I have disappointed. These are causes of the problem; they’re not meant to be excuses.

By the way, I have a question to all of my English major friends out there. It’s been bothering me for some time and I would like a critique. Have I been using semi-colons correctly in my writing? I’ve tried to pepper them throughout my posts in what I think are correct usages, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate. KatieK? Wirkuswhazz? Big Show? BrianK? Anyone? Am I a writing super-genius, or a schmuck who presumes too much to think he knows how to use one of the most baffling punctuation marks in existence?

–whazz on

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Well, an all-new Chappelle’s Show was on last night, and it was thumbs in the middle, trending up. Some funny parts, but overall not nearing as good as any show with a Charlie Murphy’s True Hollywood Stories part. Next week is lookin up, though, because it looks like they’re gonna have a CHTHS with Slick Rick.

In other news, I am still treading water on pokerroom.com with $40 or so. I’ll go down a bit and then up a bit, but I’m staying there for now. It seems like the people on there are getting crazier and crazier as time goes on. Retards hold onto low pairs until the river where they hit trips and then all your work to defend your high pair with top kicker or your two pair goes right out the window. It’s not so much I’m complaining about individual bad beats, just that the style of play overall on the site is shifting somewhat (especially in $1-$2).

Me and Rock Chalk and GMC are having a ROMANTIC AS HELL date tonight at TGIFridays; I guess it’s to celebrate the fact that we’re corporate drones or something. Scientist can come if he wants but he was off getting high and playing poker while we were planning.

I’m on Day 2 of the Low Carb diet (not fucking Atkins) and starving. I went to the grocery store last week and spent $211 on groceries that mainly consisted of donuts, rice, pasta, crackers, etc. I can eat none of it now, and it’s all just sitting in my cupboard. The places we tend to go for lunch at work don’t really cater to people who don’t eat bread and french fries.

I think I’m gonna go nuts not having any tater tots. Maybe it will be my special treat on next Sunday.

Hee-hah-hoe-it’s meeting-time-and-away-I-go!

–whazz on

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That was important enough to start a new thread.

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My wife likes to think that in the confines of our home I can’t say what I feel about various people (including idiots) that I meet on a day to day basis. When she hits me (physical spousal abuse) or yells at me (verbal spousal abuse) I reply that she has no authority to legislate morality in the home.

Big ups to the Old Man for making that point for me.

NEWTOPIC.NEWTOPIC.NEWTOPIC.NEWTOPIC.NEWTOPIC.NEWTOPIC

I went to the herr doktor yesterday to get a physical. It was my first real physcial since I was in 7th or 8th grade, probably. I had the mandatory sports physical that you needed to play RUSD sports, but that didn’t include blood work or testicular fucking exams. So yesterday I go to get a physical, and after the exam was over and I was just standing around in my boxers, the doctor was like, “you know you’re overweight, right?” Well, I knew I was, but I never heard someone just come out and say it. I guess that’s what a doctor’s job is; he tells you when you start to resemble more a beanbag than a human. “Lay off the butter,” he tells me. “Try not to inhale Spicy Doritos,” says he. So I’m like, “how much should I weigh?” He says, “Well, what are you right now… 220? You should probably be around 165.” “Holy fuck,” I thought to myself. “Hmm,” I said aloud.

So according to Doctor, I should be weighing somewhere in the nighborhood of Wirkuswhazz, rather than in the neighborhood of Scientist’s torso.

It’s gonna be a long year.

–whazz on

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Midnight and working again. Even bitter souls are slumbering peacefully in their beds. Accountants are funny when they don’t get enough sleep. Randy’s out here making some crude jokes. Brian ripped his contact long ago, and I think he’s a little ornery about it, and I would kill someone for a vodka tonic. So I think we’re getting on each other’s nerves. But, on the upside, how many times do you get the opportunity to annoy the fuck out of your co-workers at midnight? Anyhow, here’s the point of this post: who could you work with for 13-15 hours a day for three to four weeks at a time, keeping in mind that you can’t go to sleep underneath your desk because you are part of a team, and the team needs you? Go.

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Scientist’s Biting Debut: Tipsy

So, last Sunday was WWE No Way Out at the fabulous Cow Palace in San Francisco. We’d scored some pretty sweet tickets via those pieces of shit at Ticketmaster, and I figured $75 each wasn’t bad considering we were on the camera-facing side just off the floor. So Rock Chalk, myself, 4nyay, and GMC filled up some Road Cups and headed up to the city. We left the house at around 3:20pm, and got to the Cow Palace around 4pm. The show started at 5pm and I figured it’d be cool to hang out and get our seats early. Oh, how fucking wrong I was.

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I’m working from home today because the mover’s are moing my whole group to a new building at work and since they’re slow as shit it’ll take all day. So far I’ve had a nice, leisurey morning of reading the internet and playing poker. I hit my first straight flush ever, and only made about $10, but at least I can say I’ve done it. I went to Bay 101 last night to play some real poker and at one point had my nut flush fucked in the ass by a straight flush to the tune of about $50. That was not fun, so I guess karma came back my way this time.

Lately I’ve been just barely hanging on at pokerroom.com. I’ll play well for awhile and get up to around $60 on 1-2 before going over to 2-4 and getting bad beat by some lunatic back down to $10 where I have to start all over again. The good thing, however, is that playing with live people actually re-energized me as far as playing goes. I was getting sick of playing sterile online poker where you have no interaction. The flip side is that you don’t have to sit at a busted down table where, when you lean on the rail, all of your 120-odd chips fall on the floor and you look like a goof. I had a bunch of small losses and a couple of big wins, and ended up down $40 on the day. That’s not bad considereing I was down $200 at one point.

GMC has found a job, but I don’t think he’s let everyone on here know yet. I’ll let him post a Very Special Blog Entry by Ryan Casperson to give you guys the whole story. The only problem is that his job is from 7am-7pm and it’s located about 30-45 minutes away… and he’s currently sick. I don’t think he’s been checking whazzmaster as often as he’d like.

Rock Chalk: I command you to make a blog post AS Evil Erin. I think that would be hilarious.

I made reservations at Paolo’s in San Jose for me and wifey on Saturday night. I haven’t had good Italian in quite a while (for some reason, as excited as people are to go to sushi, indian, persian, and mexican food out here they never want to eat at a nice Italian place). I’m hyped for it, and it does come highly reccomended by fuddruckus. I’m looking forward to A GOOD TIME/ROMANTIC AS HELL evening on Saturday.

Jen has been corresponding recently from May-hee-ko, where she posts all day drunk on margaritas and while being sodomized by a mexican doctor. All in the name of MEDICINE, ladies!

The more I think about Wirkus’ suggestion of a Playmakers-style show revolving around a mythical wrestling federation, the more interested I am. That would be one fucking cool concept, even if the meta-ness of it would blow most casual wrestling fans’ minds. Imagine not only going to the backstage area, where supposedly “real” things are happening, but to the “turn off” the cameras and see what REALLy happens behind the scenes. In the season opener the main event star would break his neck in the ring and get put on the shelf. The first season would then revolve around the backstage struggles of everyone to deal with a.) the fact that the star of the promotion is paralyzed now, and b.) who will take his place? Good shit, all of it. Wirkus, call Hollywood now and pitch this to them. Just call anyone in Hollywood.

Old Man: what is it like when Jen H. is not around to run around the office and yell about po white folks asking her tax questions? More relaxing, or less entertaining? You have to pick between those two choices.

That’s it for now. Holler back.

–whazz on

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