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Last night I briefly considered doing that thing where you listen to the Top Seven At Seven on KMEL and then call in with the list to win some Kanye West tickets. Then I realized that doing so would be thoroughly ridiculous and went back to cleaning my bathroom.

In other news, I’m probably going to make my wedding room reservations soon. Big J, I’m just getting a room for Friday night because I’m staying with Wwhazz in his SWEET on Thursday. Let me know if you want to be in on that (Friday).

Jessi’s sister wants me to sing the Love Stinks song from The Wedding Singer in lieu of giving a speech. My thought was to go the Maid of Honor route and just go up there and cry and blather for 5 minutes. Wwhazz’s idea was for me to mumble the whole thing. My second idea was to tell a bad beat story from Pokerroom.com, as if I was telling an allegory, then conclude with, “Fuck you, davisdavisX99, you river piece of shit,” and sit down. I had another idea this morning: cut a wrestling promo where wwhazz is my tag team partner and he’s about to get a singles shot at the IC title. Then at the end, I’d hit him with my chair, steal his title shot, and marry Jessi.

That just made me realize: you two should re-enact the start of the McMahon-Helmsley Regime. Wwhazz, you take Jessi to Vegas and drug her. Marry her at a drive-through church where you say her “I Do” in a falsetto. Then bring her back home and have a “Love Her or Leave Her” street fight with her brother. If no brother can be found/exists, a handicap match against all of her sisters will suffice.

(throw a) discus

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It started snowing yesterday in the early afternoon and continued well past dinnertime. The result was a wet blanket covering the city of Racine. Luckily, the City of Racine sprang immediately into action; they sat back and feasted on Thanksgiving leftovers with a zeal last seen when I was 12 and they failed to cancel school the day the temperature hit twenty below zero. Arlo (yes, Arlo!) suggested that perhaps Racine was now too poor to get some plows out on the roads. As he said that, a plow truck came barreling up a croos-street towards us. A plow truck with no plow attached. Whoopity-doo.

Arlo, wwhazz, and myself went to Waves. Mike remembered us and our first round was on the house. Two other folks came in and sat at the bar, and soon a rousing game of Drink This! started up. We were offered sips of #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, and #6 in turn. Each drink was a different mixture of fresh-squeezed orange juice, tangerine juice, vodka, orange-flavored rum, and cranberry juice. The bar had just recently won a gigantic juicer on eBay, and they were excited to test it out. After trying numbers one, two, and three I actually ordered a #2 (fresh-squeezed tangerine and vodka) and it was great. The lunacy started when someone suggested we take numbers one through six, pour them into a blender, and name that a “One-Through-Six”. That plan produced three glasses of 1-6, and that’s how I got my second free drink of the night. Later on, we were served a drink (a #8, I think) and weren’t told what was in it. We all tasted it and found it pretty good. Then we were told that it was “SoCo, watermelon Pucker, and orange juice.” I thought that was hilarious and laughed for about five minutes. Now, a day later, I’m not sure what was so goddamned hilarious about that; maybe I thought it was funny I was served not one but two liquors surrepticiously that I would never otherwise drink.

Afterwards we went to IVANHOE! on Main St. Joel, Jamey, Jared, and Kim showed up. By this time I was fairly drunk, and just in time Arlo invented a drinking game using only a World Atlas we found on top of the old-timey piano in IVANHOE!

The Game: One person chooses a city somewhere in the world. The other players have to guess the continent its on. Each player who guesses wrong has to drink. The chooser has to say “Drink!” in a disgusted manner. Once the continent has been established, guessing continues as to the country that the city resides in. Whoever guesses the correct country gets the World Atlas to choose the next city. Supplemental Rule: if the city is in the United States, then there are two extra layers to the game. Next the group has to guess the Time Zone (which I fought against), then they have to guess the state.

After I was good and drunk on CAPTAIN & coke, Arlo wanted to play foosball. Arlo & Wwhazz VS. Moneypenny & Jamey. While the first game was close, the second and third were blowouts, even with the fact that wwhazz hated every second of it.

A quick stop at the old haunt Taco Bell on highway 20, then we were off to home to eat in Aaron Moneypenny’s basement abode while watching TV. Shortly thereafter wwhazz hit the road to get back to Milwaukee and Parker, and I hit the hay.

the end

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Fairly typical Thanksgiving Day here in Franksville, WI. Ate early in the day and then fell asleep for a while watching football. I stupidly didn’t get me pool picks logged in time, and had to take a loss on the two games today. I’m still No. 1 in my work pool, but the gap is closing and losing two games automatically won’t help.

Last night I stayed over in Milwaukee and went out with wwhazz and the Lawman. Pretty good night out and about down by Brady St. We hit The Landmark, of course, and then went home to play Scrabble. Wwhazz used his stupendous knowledge of the english language to win. I owe him $5, I think.

We’re leaning towards going out in Racine on Friday night. No definite plans yet, but I’ll alert Whazzmaster when we make a decision. I just know you all obsessively check Whazzmaster.com for your social calendar updates. Well it’s the holidays, bitches; you’d better do just that if you want a chance in hell of hanging out with someone as cool me.

all i want for xmas is some new cologne

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I’m not a poker master or anything, but I’m watching the final table of the World Series of Poker and its the biggest group of donkey-ass motherfuckers I’ve ever seen.

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I’m going to start a new magazine called Franksville Living. It will showcase the innate fashion and style of my parent’s new hometown outside of Racine. The first issue will have an ex-pose-zay on the new Walgreen’s going up in the center of town, with interviews of the local diner and auto-service shop patrons. Next issue I’m looking towards doing a photolayout on the local liquor store. Not only are they lovable, but they’re lovably gruff. Look for it on newstands soon.

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Imagine, if you will, that you were invited to a get-together at someone’s house. Appoximately 50 people were invited, not including the hostess and hosts. Imagine alcohol is being served freely, along with all manner of spicy snacks. Now imagine that you are chained to chair less than two feet from the bathroom door for the entirety of the party… say, 2 hours plus taxi time for takeoff and landing. Welcome to my flight home, where I got to smell shit for two hours. Highlight of the trip: the door to the bathroom was tough to slide into the LOCKED position, and an OLD lady went in. A minute later a man strode up and, seeing the door was unlocked, flung it open before I could utter the action-movie-cliched, “NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!” Well, now everyone can see grandma sitting on the pot. Huzzah. Second highlight of the trip (and when I say ‘highlight’ I mean something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy): a rather pretty woman went in there, and when she left the most godawful smell escaped with her. blech. The moral of the story: don’t ever, ever fucking sit in the last row of a small airplane next to the bathroom.

Last night the family ate at the new Japanese Steakhouse/Sushi restaurant in downtown Racine. It’s called Shogun and it’s across the street from Kewpee’s, which I found… not odd I suppose but strangely amusing. I’d like to take a time machine back to 1988 and stride into Kewpee’s and tell Dave Kristopeit, “Hey, in 17 years the only restaurants left in Racine will be Kewpee’s and a sushi joint.” Then I’d like to say, “OOOOOooooooOOOOOOOHHHHH, I’m the ghost of the future, and I’ve come to tell you that your son will go to college for 4 years, and when he is done he will be… A PROFESSIONAL GAMBLER! bwahahahahahaha!”

Another funny story from Racine: last night I was playing some online poker and I had a few bad beats so I was gonna close up shop and go to bed. It must have been around 10:30p; when I got up to leave my brother said, “Hey, can you leave that so I can play?”

“On my account?” I said, knowing full well he didn’t have his own account– at least not one with money in it.

“Yeah, if I lose any I’ll pay you back when I get paid on Saturday,” he responded.

I agreed and let him have the computer. We both noted that there was $135 in the account before he started. I then slept, if somewhat fitfully.

When I awoke this morning I was checking some news sites when my mom said, “You know your brother was up all night playing poker.”

“Wow,” I said, “he must have done rather well. Let’s check the account.”

Upon logging on to my Pokerroom account I was greeted with the following:

the end.

ps– If you’re in Racine this week, holla at me. If you need my cell, ask on whazzmaster.

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The Undertaker Forced To Manage Eddie Guerrero’s Funeral

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A dudefest descended on Waukesha, Wisconsin at precisely the same time as a biblical hailstorm to celebrate the End of Bachelorhood of one Michael Wirkus. Crack reporter/best man Zach Moneypenny was on the scene with his trusty “Bparty Handbook,” a digital camera, a Bag-of-Junk, the keys to a rented 12 passenger van, and the ability to stay sane and sober among a group voted “Most Beligerent (When Drunk) Bellmen” for 8 straight years. This is the story of that night.

Saturday started early for me; I had to pick up the two rented texas hold’em tables and a rented passenger van for later on. The intrepid O’neil and the incredible Ewaz accompanied me. At Fun Services we were delighted to find that in addition to renting craps tables, bouncy houses, and Santas-Riding-Motorcycles blow-up decorations, they also sold Junk, practically by the pound. Mini-magnifying glasses? Two cents. Chinese finger traps? Fifty cents. NFL Football tattoos? Thirteen cents. We bought an assortment of junk for later giveaways and the odd prize.

Our next stop was the friendly Avis desk at the airport. When one of the three workers at the desk finished with a customer and helped a colleague with another customer, the man behind me got impatient. “Hey, she’s open. Go.” he said as he nudged me. I typically wait until workers acknowledge me before stepping up to their window, but this man was not having any of it. I told him I’d wait until she was done helping the other customer, a mulleted man wearing a Green Bay Packers hat, and he declared that anyone who liked the Packers “needed help because they suck so much.” Then he unnecessarily further slurried the good name of the Green Bay Mullet. Just then two windows opened up and me and the asshole each were helped. O’neil listened to the asshole demand his rental car heard him give his name to the lady at the window. His name, the reason this anecdote was included, was Wood Hardcastle. If Wood’s out there and he found this in a Google search, let me extend my middle finger and say “fuck you, you old bastard.”

Once we had the van and the poker tables, we headed to Ross Perry’s house in Waukesha. Shortly after unloading and setting up the tables, and right before the Badger game versus Penn State began, the skies opened and rained frozen death upon us. The hail was thick like a winter snow, only it hurt like hell if you stood in it. The hail continued for three to four minutes, and we briefly wondered if god’s wrath was being visisted upon the marriage of Mike and Jessie. The hail was followed by a gigantic severe thunderstorm that lasted from 3pm until well after midnight.

The structure of the evening was straightforward:

• 2:30p-7:30p: Watch Badger game/eat dinner/play poker tourney.
• 8-ish: Go to Encore Lounge.
• 9:30-ish: Go to On The Border.
• 11:30-ish: Go to The Landmark to meet with Jessie & Friends.

Now, in the interest of time and because my life in incredibly busy right now, I’d like to make this thing interactive. Think Taboo Tuesday on a whole new level. From here on out, everyone post your own version of the night. I think it would be interested to see if anyone’s drunko version is better than my dumbo sober version.

–karate chop–

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