Tao of Pauly

48 Hours to Mayhem

"Sitting at a (poker) table with a bunch of bloggers is kinda like playing a game of chess, in a comedy club, while getting interviewed by a reporter, with the soundtrack to Oceans 11's being played by a Mariachi coverband. Oh yeah it's for your hard earned cash too." - UWannaBet

Everyone recalls my infamous post called Grublog Classic Prep where I told everyone how I was trying to pump myself up for the first ever poker blogger's event. Well, here's the follow up...

Holiday Classic Prep

I've gotten rid of all my clocks so I have forgotten the concept of time. I tried to fill my brother's apartment with pure oxygen to resemble the casino effect. Instead of getting high, I got a wicked headache. I have been limiting myself to two hours a sleep a night, sleeping in my clothes, and with my bankroll rolled up in my underwear. I have been giving away nearly a hundred dollars in the past two weeks to homeless people on the subway in a desperate attempt to improve my poker karma. I have been playing various ambient noises (slot machines in particular) instead of the usual poker playing music that I listen to while online at Party Poker. I've been practicing my poker faces in various elevators throughout the city and even dared to stare down passengers on the subway. That's the type of thing that can get you shot in my town... just the wrong glance could sent some freakazoid off on a shooting spree. But shit, if I can out menace a fellow New Yorker on the subway, then I'm confident I can successfully mask any of my emotions at a table with Charlie Shoten and Ron Rose. I refused to cut my hair because of that Samson effect. However, I did shave because sometimes one of my tells is when I rub my beard with my left hand.

To be able to compete with heavy hitting alcoholics like Al Cant Hang and Big Mike, I asked Victor Conte to set up a training regimen for me. Every other day I've been spreading the Cream all over my body in addition to injecting The Clear into my buttocks. We've also set up a steady IV drip of Southern Comfort so I can build up a vast tolerance to the nectar of the Gods. Although I'm somewhere in between Albert Finney and Dudley Moore on the alkie scale, I definitely feel I can pull a Pedro Martinez fastball down the right field line at Yankee Stadium for a home run.

In order to fit in with the South Carolina crew, I started listening to Jeff Foxworthy albums and have been watching Nascar races nonstop. I picked up dipping again and I even bought a pickup truck with a gunrack, complete with a Ted Kennedy's car has killed more people than my gun bumper sticker.

In order to get into the minds of my fellow bloggers I have been picking up their habits in an attempt to figure out how they think. My meals have been strictly Wendy's in homage to The Poker Grub. I have been listening to heavy metal for weeks now to get into Bad Blood's head. My ears hurt and I have this compulsive reaction to slam my head up against random walls. Also, I have the sudden urge to body slam the people standing next to me on the subway.

To get inside of BG's head I have been smoking American Spirit Organic Lights and decided that I too would admit on my blog that the worst looking celebrity who I would sleep with is Caroline Rhea. I've been listening to pre-hippie, beatnik music like Peter, Paul, and Mary to get a feel for Maudie's personality. I always giggle when I sing the lyrics to Puff the Magic Dragon.

Are you a pothead, Focker?

To impress Otis and CJ I have been practicing my newscaster voice. "I'm Kent Brockman with Eye on Springfield." I realized I sound more like Jeff Spicoli than Edward R. Murrow. To figure out what it's like to be Bill Rini I tried to do some scuba diving. There's not much of that in the big city so I resorted to holding my head underwater in the bathtub for several minutes on end. All have to show for that is a nasty swimmer's ear, but some of the ladies in my life (one blonde in particular) would love to know that I can now hold my breath for up to four and a half minutes. Oh yeah!

Oh and I've been playing 3 table SNGs on Party Poker with poor results. I've been getting whooped. Just call me 12th place. I cashed in just one out of ten. That's not very promising. That's my prediction for me on Saturday. 12th place. I could go on and on, but I don't have any more time. I'll be ready for Vegas. Will you be ready for me?