Tao of Pauly

Stormy Monday

"If some great catastrophe is not announced every morning, we feel a certain void." - Paul Valery

The real ugly news is that I got nailed by The Man for jury duty. Not fun. I'll have to pop a couple of Percosetts every morning just to make things interesting. You can betcha I'll be drinking heavily at lunch. Anything to survive the brutal insanity of the New York City court system.



I'll have a few books with me. Marty Beckerman is my new favorite author. Man, I wish I wrote like that fucker when I was 21. And yeah, I got Wil's latest book to keep me entertained.

I made it to another month. Another lonely season begins as I start my treacherous Monday. Same shit, different day? Sure, my writing gets recognition these days, even by some of the more influential pokerati types. People identity with my writing style. Others have been ripping it off. Sadly, I'm not making a living off it. No money is coming my way while I'm worried that my faltering inspiration will lead me into a series of tedious dead end jobs which are lining up to greet me with misery in the near future. I'm blessed with the good and fun things in life solely from the mistakes and misfortunes and nimble mischances of other degenerate gamblers. I can't sleep some nights because I know that every day when another person gets killed by a brutal war over black gold... then all my oil stocks go up and that money covers my traveling and other incurred Las Vegas expenses. I am the personification of Capitalistic Exploitation with my numerous pernicious investments. I should be shot. I should be jailed. Yet I roam the streets of your cities freely and without anything holding me back. If I made the wrong turn down a side street in Karachi, I'd have my severed head served up for worm food. Talk about luck of the draw.

At least it's October, and the Yankees are in the playoffs. Again. I bought my brother tickets to Game 2 of the first round of the playoffs for his birthday on Wednesday night. Look in the bleachers for us.

I funded my fifth online poker account the other day; Party Poker, Choice Poker, Planet Poker, Pacific Poker and now Poker Stars. I sent yet another Western Union wire transfer to a yet another South American country. Incidentally, I have two accounts with off shore sports books in Curacao and Aruba. I'm not Euro trash enough to have a Swiss Bank account, but I do have accounts in two very sunny "island nations." It's a matter of time before my banking transactions are flagged by the Federalies. Even my mother began quizzing me on the numerous Fed Ex envelopes from Gibraltar (Party Poker) that her doorman was saving for me. And I told her, "When they stop coming... that's when you have to worry."

I've been sick the last few days. Eleven months of partying and traveling and sleep deprivation had finally taken it's toll. I was greeted by a dark cloud of fatigue earlier this week, coupled with a nasty head cold. It had gotten so bad that I couldn't play poker and not even write. I had no choice but to shut everything down for a few days in order to recuperate. My health is vastly improving, but now I'm not looking forward to the mountain of work I have ahead of me. I have fallen behind in updating my blogs and working on a few side projects. I wanted to write pages and pages about the debate or the hurricanes or the impending eruption at Mt. St. Helens or why I can't seem to fold AK. All that was put on hold. I haven't had time to play cards which directly affects my banking situation. Debts on my credit card are mounting with trips scheduled to Rhode Island and Vegas. And with Jury Duty this week, my online poker time is severely limited.

I told someone recently that I'd rather have sex with Tina Fey than Britney Spears. A long silence followed my comment before a boisterous, "Bullshit!" OK, I'd rather talk to Tina Fey after sex than talk to Britney Spears. I like nerdy girls. Which reminds me of an old joke.

Q. What did Britney Spears say after the first time she had sex?
A. Roll over Daddy! You're crushing my cigarettes.

While I was sick, I tortured myself by watching Honey. Not even Jessica Alba shaking her booty in every scene was enough for me to stomach 98 minutes of wasted film stock. $17 Million to make that flick? And they shot it in Toronto instead of NYC, which would have doubled the film's budget. I only need $1 Million to shoot The Baby & Winky Movie. Any investors out there?

I picked four winning horses on Saturday; Funny Cide, Light Jig, Twining Glow, and X Box. I was wicked pissed when Commencerate lost in the 7th race at Belmot. Serves me right for wagering on a friggin' French horse.

It goes without saying that all of my blogs will be on hiatus until after I successfully served my civic duty.