The perfect use of post #100....

Not that post #100 is really that special to anyone here in our fantabulous little Kuh-myoo-ni-tee, but I wanted to really do something special with it, if I could.

I not only found the perfect thing to do with it, I think I found the smartest as well!

I emplore you as a friend, leave here immediately and

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


To be 17 and free.....

Pebbles and I had a little secret. It was kept until just the right time, I think. But now it's out in the open. We just put not-so-mini-Peb's on a plane to Greece.

She's headed there for a cruise and island explore, with her best friend and her Latin Teacher. "Mrs. Teacher" has been there several times and will be the best tour guide imaginable for the girls. Both of whom, are fascinated with Greek Mythology and the Olympics. I'm fairly confident, that all three girl's might have an OK time.

Not-so-mini-Peb's has been a stellar student all through High School. Four year's of graduating with Honours, and a grade average over that four year's of 90%. That's pretty significant if you ask me. She's also done an amazing job of balancing school and work, (two different jobs!) in that same timeframe. We figured it was time for a reward.

So now my baby is gone and cruising/island hopping, all throughout Greece and Turkey. She'll be back in a couple of weeks, and I just can't wait to hear all about it. I did have to ask her for one favour before she got on the plane though.

I asked her to try and adhere to grandpa Barney's advice.

"Enjoy the trip, like you're never going to get to go again."

And with a priceless smile, a kiss on the cheek, (in front of people and everything!) and the world's greatest hug, our not-so-baby girls journey began.

I feel like a Million Euros !

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


Somebody "Hep" me.....

Finished 21st. in the Riverchasers PLO/hi event tonight. That's kinda' sick, considering the cards I was dealt and the fact that there were 83(?) runners. I was down to 720 chips at one point, (courtesy of a certain someone, that didn't believe their A-A in pocket was dead, lol) and then went "Presto" Gin, turned double Gin, and then I turned the nut flush on two different "aw-fug-it" hands.

Then the well ran dry. Like, Sahara dry! I stole three pots with "aw-fug-it" raises and all of a sudden, "Bam-Bam" had some chips. I stayed in the top ten for a little while, but the blinds just kept eating away. To clarify, I am not typically a PLO fan. But to have it as hi only, gives me a fighting chance. It's that damn P/L that kills me everytime. No matter what, you can't shake the draws and get them off the pot with the limited amount you can bet out. And chasers are every where! I couldn't get players off hands when I'd made top set. They wouldn't run away if I had flopped the srtaight or baby-flushes. I could hear them saying, "There are two more cards to come. I might make a gut-shot straight, or back door nut flush. You keep bettin' pot Bam, I'll keep calling and we'll go from there."

Ah well, live and forget.

It was a pleasure to sit at a table with my fellow BB, and my friend TBA. I also had some BOOOOOOOOOOOM factor and a great heart behind me. All in all, a damn fine night. Despite the result.

Have a good weekend all! Hope to see you "Donkamenting it up."

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


'Cause I'm 1/2 The Stud I used to be....

$6.15 / HR ! Woooo00000ooooooT !

That’s not bad for a night’s worth of grinding it out in the minefield that is “The Skillz” game. What a friggin’ night! I should’ve known to walk away right from the start when the deck was slapping me in the face with starting cards galore, only to have me watch in horror as my opponents would build an un-stoppable hand against me.
Some prime examples?

Me = As-Ac-Jh
Villain = x-x-6d
Me = As-Ac-Jh-Jc
Villain = x-x-6d-8d
Me = As-Ac-Jh-Jc-2h
Villain = x-x-6d-8d-7d
Me = As-Ac-Jh-Jc-2h-3h
Villain = x-x-6d-8d-7d-9d

And I’d had enough of that hand! Then this beauty,

Me = A-A-3
Villain = x-x-K
Me = A-A-3-7
Villain = x-x-K-K
Me = A-A-3-7-2
Villain = x-x-K-K-K

And I’d had enough of that hand! Then the beyatches took a turn,

Me = J-J-J
Villain = x-x-Q
Me = J-J-J-8
Villain = x-x-Q-Q
Me = J-J-J-8-4
Villain = x-x-Q-Q-Q

And I’d had enough of that hand! Then I decided to stick one out to the end because damn it, I have to be ahead !

Me = 10-10-10
Villain = x-x-Q
Me = 10-10-10-8
Villain = x-x-Q-K
Me = 10-10-10-8-J
Villain = x-x-Q-K-A
Me = 10-10-10-8-J-Q
Villain = x-x-Q-K-A-J …… OK, you have three 10’s, do you put him on the straight?
Me = 10-10-10-8-J-Q-A …. Nice! And 2 K’s were folded by fourth st. so I’m goot heh.
Villain = x-x-Q-K-A-J-x


Me = 10-10-10-8-J-Q-A … for a set of 10’s
Villain = 8-8-Q-K-A-J-10 … for a case card straight on 7th street.

All of this happened on the first 1 ½ hours of play. How I didn’t go broke well, it’s just a miracle to be honest. I was so frustrated, I had to go for a walk around the house. And I mean, I got up and put shoes on and walked out the front door and around the house. lol! The deck or RNG or whatever? was in a very sick mood last night. It wasn’t just happening to me either so don’t think of this as a rant. I mean I watched 3 Queens up, have to fold to 3 Kings up. They both hit their hands in sequence on 4th., 5th.,and 6th. streets. We saw Quad’s lose to Quad’s, and then boat after boat went sinking away to the bigger boat docked right beside them.

I stayed mid-pack with my chip stack by getting lucky on a couple of decent draws and showing a rolled up set of 10’s I’d bet out hard about halfway through the game. My intention with the show was, to get the message out that I would play good hands hard and fold a bad Ace. This started to set the tone for me, as we were almost through the second hour of play. That helped me jam a few times to weaker showings and steal a few un-played or limped into pots. Every little bit helped and with the levels starting to creep up, we were getting into ugly territory. Ugly territory is where you need to start to gamble just a little bit more, and hope you either hit, or stay good. With my chips dwindling away, thanks to the re-fawkulous 21 brings sent my way in one hour, (that only Waffles could really appreciate) I was in Ugly territory already and I had to pick a hand. Fortunately for me, the hand that I picked was up against The Worst Poker Player. I considered it an omen from the poker gods, so I ran my three diamonds into Waffles x-x-K. Low and behold, I won!
(Please refer to Donkey Rule #2)
Now you know you’re running really bad, when you can’t beat an a-s-s-h-a-t playing on only a wing and a prayer! Poor Waffles! That only left him with about 20 Gazillion chips or so, but doubled me through to around 7,400.

From there on out, it was actually fairly A-B-C Stud for me. Jam with 'em and walk away without 'em, based on the cards I was dealt. My “IGH” came at the hands of ANIguy because as everyone who plays the game knows, 9-9 >> 10-10. ;o) If anyone else out there could do better than a 10th. place finish with the luck and cards that I had to deal with last night, I don’t know who they are right now. I want a T.O.C. seat pretty damn bad I tell you, and last nights STUD Hi was as good a chance as I am going to get to play with some skill over luck quotient rather than the reverse. The game dealt me a few blows last night and I had to take a couple of shots that I normally wouldn’t ever have gone for. But overall, I think I have to be happy with a 10th place finish in a field of that size and caliper. I get some cash, get some points and move on to the next one.

Special thanks to the combination of ANIguy and Donkette for the railing and the fun! If it wasn’t for ANIguy constantly reminding me in the chat that "I ((heart)) Donkette," I think I would have fallen asleep during the game. Also shouts out to Riggs, (BOOOOOOM!) and Surflexus for the words of encouragement. I don’t know what it is with me and the Ladies but, even Surf’s Wife stopped by to cheer me on for a bit. ;o) I was particularly pleased to get a combination message from CK! If you haven’t heard, her Remon’s a rittle routta rhack and she’s had some surgery to correct it. I was promised that she’s doing fine and it made me very happy to hear. If you get a chance, stop by and say hi to her for me. I’d appreciate it.

My sincerest thanks for dropping by….


Father's (Part II)....

It’s “the look” that can’t be explained to, ( or understood by ) anyone who is not a parent. I guess I should say that perhaps I’m just not capable of getting the point and emotion required, across to those without children. I can tell this, because as I tell of how events unfolded, I can easily sense from the listeners who amongst them are the parents and who is merely listening to the story. The listeners are clearly without concept of the emotions involved.

The first time not-so-mini-Peb’s walked towards me with Blood spilling from her head after a fall off the wooden jungle gym in the park, thoughts randomized rapidly between, “what kind of Father am I, that I couldn’t be there to catch her?” and “I wonder if this is how Dad felt that time with the nail?” The feelings endured when seeing your child in pain, do get a little easier with time for sure. But there really is no way to prepare you for that one first time, the one you know is inevitably going to happen, but yet it still somehow manages to surprise you all the same. I remember the look on my Fathers face, as clearly today as if it had just happened. My Mother had a look of horror and started to cry immediately. All the while trying to move me around and stop me from bleeding all over everything in the house. My Fathers face had a look of peace and calm about it. It just told me to go to him and he would take care of what was wrong, in the way it should be taken care of.

About 2 ½ miles from the house, they were building a new sub-division of houses and the project had only just begun. This made the site a veritable playground for a kid on a dirt bike! I spent hours a day down there, jumping in and out of the holes that had been dug for the foundations to be poured. The excavated dirt piled so high, it was just daring me to jump the bike from the highest of them all. I was in Heaven. It’s a funny thing about construction sites, one day there’s a bunch of empty holes in the ground, some short time later, there’s an entire community. Somewhere in between the two, there’s a lot of material and scrap just laying around looking harmless and messy. As I always did, I took a look around on foot before throwing myself into any great hole in the ground, or jumping off a hill onto the other side. Call me crazy if you like, but I always preferred to know what I was heading towards, before I made the decision to go. It was during the harmless act of walking near the edge of a mound of dirt that I thought would make a great little jump, that I felt a searing burn of pain suddenly in my right calf. It seemed I’d stepped on the end of a short bit of scrap 2 x 4 and had it come up and smack me in the leg. I tried to move it away as it persisted in dragging along with me. I remember thinking to myself, “Why is that wood stuck to my leg?” as I reached down to brush it away. It wasn’t going anywhere. It appeared that the 8” nail that had driven completely through my right calf muscle would see to that. I couldn’t pull it out for the pain and I couldn’t get on the bike with the wood attached to my leg. So sitting side-saddle and going as quick as I could, I headed for home where I knew my Dad would make things right.

At first I felt afraid that something was terribly wrong and felt it, from the second I saw my Mothers face. That fear only grew as she frantically rushed me from spot to spot, with the major consideration apparently being the flooring and how blood would have an impact on it. Then came the calmness and serenity to the situation that was my Father. I remember him looking me directly in the eyes several times, as he assessed the situation and made his plan to relieve me of my wooden companion. With poise and confidence, he told me how everything was going to be OK after just a little bit more pain. I was not asked if I could take just a bit more, I clearly remember being told that I was, “tough enough for anything” and how “proud I(he) was that his boy made it all the way home like the big man he is.” I can tell you that I remember all of the facets of that day, but what I don’t remember is that one little thing. I couldn’t tell you the exact moment, that I no longer had a nail through my leg. Sometime during that conversation as I stared into my fathers eyes and listened to his calming voice, he slipped it out and had already started addressing the excessive bleeding of the now un-plugged holes, where it had once pierced through the flesh.

As my daughter approached me in tears from her fall, I remembered everything from that day with the nail. I took Dad’s lesson and consoled little Peb’s with calm and serenity. All the while churning inside that my child was truly hurt and bleeding. It’s a battle raging within your being, as you want to release the emotion of fear and sadness for your sweet and innocent child, but should know that calm is the best medicine you can offer your child at that crucial time. When they need you the most, you need to be there for them. I could see the flushness withdraw from her face. I could see in her eyes that everything was going to be OK and even more importantly, I could see the calmness transferring into those beautiful eyes of hers, when I knew she had to be hurting like hell.

As we gazed calmly into each other’s eyes and I told my daughter how proud I was of her for being such a big girl, I slowly and steadily removed the 3” x ¼” piece of railway tie splinter from the gash in her forehead. I realized at that exact moment, that I’d not only learnt a valuable lesson from my Father, but that I was now seeing through his eyes almost 40 years later.

My sincerest thanks for dropping by….


Fathers (part I)....

I'd like to ask a favour of those that frequent this little space on the Interweb-a-thing-a-ma-bob. A friend of ours has suffered the loss of his Father. Stop by if you can and let him know we're all putting he and his family in our prayers. It only takes a few seconds, and I'm sure it'll go a lot farther than you give it credit.

This adds to a long line of those my age, that I've had to offer my condolences to. The weird thing is, Eleven! This was the 11th. time in about a year that I've said to another man, "let me know if there's anything I can do." I honestly don't just say that. I truly mean it. If there's any way I can help, be it an ear to bend, a shoulder to cry on or a spot to vent or tell stories of memories long past, I'm willing to be that for those in need. But what makes it weird is, Eleven! After 11 of these same messages and heartfelt condolences going out to friends I've met, and some that I haven't, it's finally starting to kick in to this "Peanut-brained" little kid, that my own Father is of an age that becomes dreadfully far, on the "other side" of mortality.

This has been a difficult concept for me to grasp. You see, my Dad was always, "The Dad." My earliest recollections are of a garage full of the "cool" guy's building some form of Stock Car or Super-Modified race car. I learned what soap really tasted like in pre-school at The Russell Day Nursery, at the age of 5. (on my Birthday no less) Because when it came time for Rice Pudding to be served, I responded in "Garage-ease" as it was known at the time. "There ain't no way I'm eatin' that shit!" to be exact. It may have been crude and way out of line for the normal 5 year old of the time but for me, it was just business as usual for the "cool" kids.

In this the first installment of a look at my life growing up under and around "Barney," I thought I'd take a look at the very early years. With what has gone on for others near my age slowly starting to sink in, I thought I'd rather say the things I want to, while the old man's still around to piss off. Forgive me Father, for I'm about to sin, all over again.

Dad's friends back then, were a group of family that included almost everyone named "Uncle" something or other. There were real Uncles of course, my Dad's brother and my Mothers as well. Then there was "Uncle Bob," "Uncle Bill," Uncle Jim" and so on. This lasted until I was old enough to have a beer with the boy's. That day came when I was old enough to weild a wrench, a hammer and dolly, or just find and deliver the right tool for the job when requested. So at the ripe old age of 8, I was having a beer with the boys about once a week. Before you get the wrong impression completely, remember the gentleness of the era and the seemingly harmlessness of it all in a time gone by. To say those were the good old day's is something of an understatement. Consider that after working on a 600hp Super-Modified race car, it was only natural to test it out by running up and down the Service Road or newly built, Queen Elizebeth Highway. (It had ramps to check turning issues and three lanes to let 'er rip if you wanted) Local Police back then were proud of the local boy's doing good at a track all the way down in Oswego NY. I remember one engine change to a huge big-block Hemi that once completed, had the Police block this brand new highway for almost 15 minutes! Just enough time for the car to make about 9 or 10 laps from Walkers to Guelph lines. I sat in amazement at the incredible speed that the car could achieve. Where did I sit in amazement? The only natural place of the times, on the center gaurdrail of the QEW! It was a different time indeed.

Of course it wasn't all romance and fast cars, there was always an un-written rule. To get, you have to give. A day's work without some good old fashioned sweat on your brow, had nothing to do with work at all. The rule was simple. There was no staying out of the way and keeping quiet in Dad's garage. You did your work and got it done right. The work would be checked one time and only if it was something new to you and it was the first time you'd done it solo. After that, it was never checked again. It was a given that you knew your job and did it well. Hell had no fury like my Father if something you did on one of his cars, failed during the life of the vehicle. I was welding by age 10. That in and of itself, should tell you how hard I worked to be part of my Dad's little team. He would count on my ability to hold together the very frame that would twist and complain under terrible protest, from some of the most powerful engines of the day. I took that job very serious.

There was never a day that I can remember, that the cars or the gang, took priority over family. But one day when I came home, I knew that something wasn't just right in the family. My Mother and Father sat me down, and explained that they had "just grown apart." As is typically the case and despite my advanced education in the garage, I wasn't prepared for the "D" word in my family. It happened anyway and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Looking back now, I'm amazed that it didn't happen so very much earlier. As I look back into the past and and evaluate things in the current day, I can say that my parents are about as polar opposite as it gets in this world. The plan was formed that I was better off with my Mother. I was not consulted on this decision for some reason. So I spent several years after the event as the only male in a house of 3 females and basically left to fend for myself.

Dad and I spent our time together on just about every other weekend. We did our thing and had our fun. That is one thing that has never changed over the 40+ years I have memories of my Father, everything has to be fun. If not, you're wasting your time doing it. Yes you must work and you must work damn hard. But since you have to, you might as well make the best of it. I try and consider this lesson every single day.

In some up-coming installements; how to be a Dad, teaching your son a valuable lesson and of course my personal favorite, realizing you're both too old to fight about anything anymore.

If you can reach your Dad, give him a hug, handshake or whatever else it is that you have between you to show that bond of love and appreciation. If only a phone call is possible, I say give him a ring. Getting the chance to do this now, is way better than the alternative in my book.

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


Please welcome my special guest poster....

With a weekend of TuckFard poker and finishes of 7th. in the TucKFard game and 4th. as a team TuckFard player, I think I need to take a back seat to my baby and her back-to-back 2nd. place finishes. So since she kicked my butt at poker this weekend and I just don't know what to say about that, I've asked Pebbles to make an appearance as a special guest author here in Bedrock.

Enjoy !


I don't know where to start exactly but, it's been a crazy 7 or 8 day's for sure!

EH-Vegas has been posted about on everyone elses sites, and the reading has been a blast. It was a pleasure to finally meet so many of Bam-Bam's invisibles and I totally understand why he get's so excited about this particular group of friends. You're all great to be around! For those that were there, you know that Bam's the mover and shaker and I'm slightly more 'reserved' when it comes to the big get togethers and meeting others for the first time. That's not to say that I wasn't thrilled to meet everyone, it's just that my pace is slightly slower than the majority of bloggers I guess. With Bam around, it was almost impossible to get a word in edgewise anyhow! ;o)

For those of you used to the underground games and playing with a lock on the door, I'm sure the club was just the right place to be. I however have to say, I was just a touch out of my element to say the least. With my coat on my chair and my eyes on the back exit, (yes that was the first thing I checked out upon arrival, since I read the G-Vegas stories and all ) I felt queezy every time that damn doorbell rang. There were a few very nice compliments on my table persona and on how I approach the live poker game. That means a lot to me, as I often wonder where I fit in with the blogger poker circuit. I know my game is relatively solid, but it's great to have folks like CK and Riggs re-affirm that my game is up to snuff when playing with the "big kids." Thanks so much for the compliments.

No one out there really know's that much about me, but I really appreciate that you all make me feel welcome whenever Bam and I show up to a blogger event. This community is so worth supporting and being part of, and I know why Bam does what he does when it comes time to take part. Two of the most important things I care about in life are, family and friends. Without both, you have nothing at all.

So in saying that, Bam has a friend, (that I've never met and yet I can't help but call a friend because Bam does! ) that is looking to re-locate to our area. Bam's gotten right into trying to make the move as smooth as possible. I found it funny that it's drawn me in as well. I don't remember the last time that I signed on and went out looking for a blog to read without Bam. Yet this afternoon, I found out from Bam that Otis' wife has a blog of her own. That was enough for me. I went in search of Walden to learn just a little more about who it was we were going to be trying to help. Being who I am, that meant reading the last several posts put up on the site. After reading Otis with Bam at both the "Rapid" site and in "G-Vegas," it just seemed natural to read the "other" side of the story too. Now I find myself looking forward even more to meeting our new neighbours, and wanting to help them get settled into their new community. I know how hard it can be to move away from family and friends. But if it makes it any easier, please know that you are also moving towards friends, that truly look forward to all the good times to come.

On the job front, things are really happening fast! My territory in just my first three months has expanded from the South-Eastern USA, to the entire Eastern Seaboard! I think it's just possible that they like me at the new company! That's kind of cool.

I don't know when I'll get the urge to post again, or if Bam-Bam will actually let me do it here.(LMAO) But I appreciate those of you that managed to make it through my little piece of this internet pie. Maybe next time I have something to get off my chest, I'll just hi-jack the keyboard and not tell him until it's far too late.

Have a great week all !



I'd also just like to let everyone know, the new issue is out and well worth your time for review as always!

Truckin' - March 2008, Vol. 7, Issue 3

Welcome back to the third annual L.A. issue featuring some of your favorite writers sharing stories about Los Angeles.

1. Next to Mama Cass by Paul McGuire
Dulce was an attractive peppy girl from San Diego. She diligently saved up for grad school and her first job funded her future. Her second job funded her addiction to weed, whiskey, and cocaine. She loved all three when her shift ended at midnight... More

2. The Drug Store by Change100
I walked down a cement pathway into the shade of unkempt trees and saw a cloudy glass door that led into a deserted elevator lobby. It was open. Someone was here. The lobby walls were covered in cheap faux-oak paneling and the floors in decades-old linoleum. Next to the elevator doors hung a building directory. And there it was. Dr. Jerry Greenblatt, M.D. Fourth floor. I gingerly stepped into the sketchiest elevator in Los Angeles and prayed it wouldn't drop me to the basement... More

3. Today's Special By Joe Speaker
Brad's last night on Planet Los Angeles started at El Caballo, clutching his beer like a dog eared paperback. Starched white shirt glowing red in the bloody lights of the place, same color as the naugahyde booths behind him jammed against the textured and cracked yellow walls... More

4. Smoking Is Cool by Dan Keston
As a man, I truly believe that if you feel comfortable walking down the street with a Coors Light in your hand then you probably feel comfortable wearing your fraternity letters well past your 35th birthday. I also believe, contrarily, that walking down the street with a cigarette in your hand makes you look suave, debonair, independent and just aloof enough to be mysterious... More

5. California: The Garden of Eden by Johnny Hughes
It seemed Los Angeles was in this artificial super-Technicolor, compared to West Texas. The first thing I saw was a grade school class with black, white, and Asian children. I had never seen that, since our schools were segregated... More

6. My LA by Betty Underground
Accidents happening all around you on the freeway. The world's biggest spectator sport! Traffic is not because of the carnage in the road, it is from the rubberneckers trying to catch a glimpse of the blood and guts, only to be disappointed when it was a minor fender bender... More

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been... From the Editor's Laptop:

Welcome back to the special L.A. edition of Truckin' featuring several your favorite L.A. based writers. We have Change100, Joe Speaker, Dan Keston, and Betty Underground in this issue scribbling about the City of Angels, along with a short story from myself and a contribution from the legendary Johnny Hughes.

Please tell your friends and family about your favorite stories. It takes only a few seconds to pass along Truckin'. The writers certainly appreciate your support.

Also, feel free to shoot me an e-mail if you know anyone who is interested in being added to the mailing list.

Thanks again to everyone for wasting your precious time month after month with Truckin'. And many thanks to the writers who exposed their souls to the world and spilled blood to make art. And, they did it for free. Thanks for inspiring me and taking that leap of faith with me.

Be good,

"Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink." - Charles Bukowski

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....