Mastodon Migration....

No we may not have evolved and despite the magnificent changes in the world, Saturday night was surely proof that we were all alright with that.

The plan was simple. Hit as many local watering holes along the migration through G-Vegas as we could. Sample the ample variety of libations and most definitely, get into as much trouble, (legally'ish!) as mastodonly possible.

A message went out about a change in the planned route. Instead of 4:00pm at one location, it would be 5:00pm at another.

We're mastodons people, we don't deal well with change!

The herd had been separated and the nervous chatter was beginning to grow. One mastodon would head in one direction, guided only by the smell of opportunistic booze. Another followed along, never getting close enough to cause concern but clearly, close enough to alert the other to his presence.

Elsewhere, several small packs started to form in various areas. Something was clearly in the air! With tusks and trunks raised to sample the vibe along the migration path, movement started to become less cumbersome and awkward. The group started coming together as a herd again, a herd with a purpose.

The faces of several small groups of local dwellers told the story.

It was beginning.

The first to feel the thunder of the mass, was a small little watering hole on The Blue Ridge. A spot for maybe 60 some, holding just three tables occupied by the residents. They seemed unafraid at first, comfortable with calling the place home. But the herd showed no mercy. None at all! They plowed down anything in their way, for they were mastodons. Big, lumbering and un-evolved masses, that nothing or no one could contain. They destroyed all in their path, as they started to form a pack along the darkest back recession of the place. For the most part, with backs to the wall along the furthest reaches of the spot. Then some, skulking near or at the end of the bar in the darkness. All seemingly totally content to just hang and drink, as long as it was towards the bowels of the establishment. There was a great variety of drink, probably too much for a mastodon to comprehend at first. As several beasts were seen continually patrolling the service area, taking in the choices before them.

When all had been satisfied with a beverage or two, one mastodon made a circle of the herd with eyes clearly focused on the center. This mastodon had purpose and to me, this mastodon seemed to possess greater knowledge of the area than most. Something told me that this mastodon, had probably been at this watering hole before. Another joined him and the herd seemed startled at first. Restless shifts in weight and more trampling under foot took place. Something was happening within the herd, there was an eerie and uneasy feeling amongst the gatherers and it was palpable. Then the first mastodon spoke.

"Here are the rules for the migration." he said.


Rules for some great lumbering beasts?
Rules defining how and what this enormous mass of flesh, blood and fur can and can't do along the way?
Rules despite the fact that we were clearly the superior size if not superior beasts, across the great land at the moment.
Rules for a herd that had just shown total domination in taking a spot away from the locals, that had previously called it home?
Rules? Really?

Despite my trepidation, the two in the center did appear wise. They were mastodons with a plan it was clear. I just needed to make sure those plans included me and my mate. For I'd have killed any and all of those that tried to separate us from each other, or our herd. I'm a mastodon, don't fuck with me!

As our newly self appointed migration leader continued, we learned that there were drinking rules, as well as rules of speak. Namely, you will drink at every stop along the way. No mastodon will fall behind during the migration due to a lack of hydration. We were reminded of the criticalness to the success of the herd, that each of us look out for and care for the others. Ensuring that each is continually and properly drinking along the way, was our only hope for a successful yet more than likely eventful migration.

The entire herd seemed to acknowledge the wisdom of our new found leaders words. Hoisting trunks and drinks into the air in unison, the collective grunt of the herd I'm sure, was heard throughout the land.

Mastodons will drink!

Now along with that rule, came one that I truly don't think the entire herd was capable of comprehending. We are mastodons after all! There is no record or historical evidence of superior intellect in our past. We trudge and trample, we eat, drink and crap. But our leader was asking mastodons to think. Historically at least, I thought that was an unprecedented path to take.

"You must listen, you then drink and only when the shot is completely and truly gone, you may speak. " came the newest words of wisdom.

At each watering hole, our leader would pose a question of the herd. A question so rich in local knowledge that it became abundantly clear to me, several of the leaders strongest followers had also done this migration before.

The herd was in good hands now I know. I was comfortable that my mate and I would be making the migration with proven veterans of the trip. Older and wiser isn't always everything. Sometimes a mastodon needs to give in to experience and local knowledge, then just go along for the ride.

The question was asked, the drinks had been downed and one mastodon stood above the herd and announced his response. It was the Pauly mastodon and according to our leader, he had done the herd proud. I knew right then that this Pauly fellow, was my mastodon for the race. I immediately placed side action with my mate, giving her the field. A brave and bold move on my part but hey like I said, mastodons are not known for their smarts.

The scene replayed itself over and over again,

at each and every watering hole,

we'd all gather around our leader and listen to his question. There were pretenders of course, those blurting out responses at random. There were other less scrupulous mastodons as well, thieving drinks from other mastodons and posing as a player in the herd. But then there was my mastodon, the Pauly mastodon. I stuck with him and ran screens and interference. I ensured the Pauly mastodon was present at every question. I even ensured a drink was available for him, when the others plotted a cruel plan to break him free of the herd. He's the Pauly mastodon and he's my mastodon in this race, don't fuck with him either!

At one particular watering hole, a rumble of panic spread across the herd. A beverage of choice had run dry and one of our herd was in trouble! The mastodons needed to come together for our weak link and help him rally. But who was it, and how could we help?

I trundled over to the bar for information.

As I surveyed the herd and started to ask what I thought was the appropriate questions to solve the issue, "Excuse me. Have you seen a particularly fuzzy mastodon around here?"

the answer presented itself immediately.

There was a deepening feeling of impending doom in the group, as we realized which of our herd was lacking the required sustenance for the journey. Acting quickly, my mate and that of the leader rallied around his plight.

The AlCantHang mastodon, now seemed capable of carrying on with the migration.

That wasn't the only time that the mate of our leader came to the rescue either! Later in the migration there was a moment where I was sure that I would not be carrying on. My tusks grew heavy, my molting fur seemingly carrying the weight of the herd as I trudged on. But she of our leader recognized my woes and was bringing me gifts, while encouraging me to continue.

The "gift" in this case, a seriously hawt pre-migration teacher that just didn't quite make it into the picture. But I felt her, I know she was real and hopefully, I'll catch that wild little mastodon again on the next trip down to the south if I make it.

As the migration started slowly coming to an end, I thanked our leaders for such an effortless and enjoyable migration. Their care in ensuring everyone felt the same about this trip, showed in every little thing they did along the way.

Oh and my mastodon Pauly?

He's the king of the mastodons now.
Don't fuck with him!

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


The Mastodons graze....

The idea Saturday morning was simple, Peb's and I would jump in the Red Rubble Rocket and head into town to pick up The Doc and CK. From there, we'd all head out for a little fun on the Golf Course. Sounds simple right? We'd gather at The Westin Pointsett where they were staying, aiming for sometime around 9:00am.

UH..... one minor issue.

You'd think SOMEONE would have told us that there'd also be 10 gajillion runners preparing for the 5K and 10K runs that morning. Oh by the way The Westin Pointsett, just happened to be their starting point as well!

Looking for CK and The Doc, think needles and hay stacks!

We found them of course and for the rest of the day, these mastodons were going to graze on the gentle bent grass greens and fairways of Verdae. <== that link's for Schaubs. Go ahead, be jealous! ;)

"Holes vs. Poles" ~credit CK

It would be the boy's against the girls apparently so all that was left to do, was settle the game and the stakes. With such a gorgeous course ahead of us, I hoped everyone wanted to play their own ball. Done! I'd seen that we'd be giving the 'holes' a pretty huge advantage from the tee blocks also, as The Doc and I would be playing from as close to the tips as the course would allow.

"A stroke a hole at least!" Peb's spat out.

Once I finished laughing, I told her to shove it.

My partner offered up a solution of his own, a stroke a hole except on the PAR 3's. Then we could readjust or renegotiate before we started the back 9. Done!

The stakes? It just didn't seem right for Peb's and I to get involved, as one of us would be reaching into my pocket to give the other any cash prize. So we made a deal. Doc and CK played for the cash and us, we'd use our cash to by the winners drinks at the first bar we went to that night. It seemed appropriate to go with a win-win in my mind.

The Front 9~

"Coffee please, and could you throw on one of those breakfast sandwiches too." The Doc.

"Hun, could you grab me a coffee please?" Pebbles.

"Oooooo breaky sandrich, YUM! Me too prease and uh, a brue gatorade." CK

"Is that Scotch behind you there? Oh.... and I need a beer. Actually do me a favour darlin, throw a six pack on some ice for us as well please, I hear we may not see the beer cart until the second hole or so." You get 1 guess.

Although a touch rusty from a long Winter hiatus, everyone hit a few great shots, a few good shots and then, a few shots that reminded us of exactly why we are not on any type of professional tour. In other words we played golf and along the way, we had a little fun.

There was also one other constant as we grazed on the grass of Verdae,

grass makes you really, REALLY thirsty!

The 'poles' broke out to an early two hole lead in the match. The 'holes' would clearly want to renegotiate the deal for the back 9. "This could get ugly" I told The Doc.

And it did!

The Back 9~

"A stroke a hole now" said the 'holes' to me in unison, "and if your partner doesn't agree, he's a dick!"

As the Doc made his way back to our cart with that goofy boyish grin I've come to love, his expression changed from what I can only guess, was the beaten down look on my face as he saw me.

"A stroke a hole?"


"We're screwed."


"Want me to get the beer wench to throw a few more scotch on the wagon then?"


The 'holes' made a Tiger'esque charge right from the start of the back 9 and one thing was certain, the game was on!

You see, trying to hold on to a lead when you're playing a 224 yard PAR 3 up hill and into what little breeze there was, while the 'holes' are hitting a wedge from 111 yards at the same time, is uh..... daunting to say the least.

Then the turning point for us, came at around the 15th hole.

We'd run the wagon out of scotch!

The 'holes' were one up, with one to play.

It was time to try a new tactic, if we were going to have any chance at the tie. The Doc bombed a drive right down the middle. I followed that up with a shot down the left center, leaving a pretty good view of the green from that angle. All that was left to do now was, intimidate!

CK may have noticed that the Doc may be, or may not be, staring at her ass. The shot went right.

He made sure that Pebbles was certain that he was staring at hers,

the shot went left.

As the 'holes' scrambled to find the finish, I stuffed my third shot into the center of the PAR 5's green. Only to watch it juice it's way all the way to the front. I had two putts from 25 feet to tie. The first was a weak ass attempt, making it only 20 of the desired 25 to go. Then Peb's dropped a bomb and suddenly, the five footer really was to half the match.

Was there ever any doubt?



I don't want anyone to take this out of context because truly, I do love us all. There's just something magic that happens when this little group gets together. Smiles get larger and more frequent, laughs become steady background noise and challenging one another in whatever it is that we do, brings out a hilarity that is unparalleled in any other part of my life.

So to the mastodons that grazed the grass of Verdae with me, despite it never going to be enough to do so, I simply say thanks again.

Hopefully I'll get the chance to finish up my thoughts on the mastodon migration soon. When I do, you my dear readers will be the first to know.

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....


Mastodons 2, World no score....

The second Mastodon weekend has come to a close.
Bigger, better, longer and stronger.

Long live the Mastodons!

I think I probably said thanks a gazillion times over this past weekend but honestly, no amount can be enough for our gracious hosts. Otis, G-Rob, The Mark and Badblood seriously, THANKS! You folks put on one hell of a show there in G-Vegas and like I said at the end, "you know you'll probably never have one of these things without me now."

The start of Mastodon weekend for Peb's and I, was hooking up with everyone for some drinks and a pre-game snack down at the Poker venue. What a place! Great staff, awesome management and holy crap, did we get taken care of. If you are in G-Vegas and don't stop by Azia, IMHO, you are making a fairly large mistake!

Our Poker area resembled nothing I'd seen set up in a "Bar" before. Four tables set in an area all our own and the entire upstairs floor, reserved for whatever struck our fancy. If you can imagine tossing forty or so of us at a staff that likely hadn't ever seen anything the likes of well.... us, you'll know what it means when I say holy shit did they do an amazing job with service!

When it came down to time to draw for seats, I can admit that I had just a few butterflies flitting around within. It was a good.... NO, great kind of nervousness and excitement I was feeling. We all set goals for ourselves that mean many different things. As far as blogging goes for me, three and a half years or so ago, I set five goals to attain before I'm done. Here is the list as it stands, with the goals that I've managed to achieve.

1) Take a shot at keeping up with AlCantHang. Happily done and successfully I might add, several times over the years.
2) Get down to G-Vegas and sit at a table with Blood, Otis & G-Rob. Done this weekend!
3) Make it to heads up in a blogger MTT with either Otis or Badblood. Done this weekend and maybe even better, with a twist.
4) Arm wrestle Badblood and win. Done this weekend, although I secretly believe he let the old fat kid win. ;)

Number five will just have to wait. I like to hold these things close to the vest and keep them to myself. It helps prevent a forcing of the issue and when the event does actually occur, it just makes it even that much more special to me. And like I always say, it is all about me right?

So as I went to pull a card for my seat, I took a moment to scan the room and decide what my dream starting table would look like. Know what? I run pretty damn good!

1 seat: Peb's.
2 seat: started empty, but was soon filled with Gene Bromberg
3 seat: Iggy
4 seat: Yours truly
5 seat: Otis
6 seat: CK
7 seat: Tripjax
8 seat: BustoutPoker
9 seat: caitycaity
10 seat: Chilly

Like I said, I was thinking that I run pretty good. Then I looked at the three other tables and you know what? We all run pretty good if you ask me! I would have been perfectly happy sitting at any of them. What a great group!

Action at our table early was.... uh..... hmmmmm... what was it called again? Oh yeah, "nitty!" This was the kind of tight that almost actually squeaked, whenever a few chips got thrown into the center. Like Jewish wallet joke tight, or German Engineering precision tight or even worse, wrong jeans no ball room tight!

Nits one and all!

But with a Poker Face like this to your immediate left,

~photo courtesy of Tao of Poker

don't you think you might squeak just a touch too?

In order to keep up the stack, I exploited the squeakiness every once in awhile when I thought that I could. I did get caught in the cookie jar once, but I still had enough of a stack to work with as we went along. Then just in case anyone may have perceived that Pebbles and I were in some type of alliance, I slammed The Bammer on the table after re-raising pre and her flat call turned into a check, on a pretty junky looking flop. Game on! A game that became quite funny actually, as CK got me off a pot we were in and then tabled The Bammer with an awesomely silly and impishly lovely grin. Gotta' love it!

I'm not that fond of recounting every hand or pot I was in so suffice it to say, I treaded water just fine and when the blinds did level up, I kept a working stack in front of me at all times. Tables busted down and as we rearranged the seating, I was at least always left at the same table. Joining us over time were G-Rob, Badblood, Dr. Chako and Bobby Bracelet. Pretty good shit right there! I never felt out of place, never nervous or worried and thanks to the hilarity in the conversations, I was always comfortable while sitting at the table. Even despite having "death row" as my view, when I looked across the table.

I made a monster error in getting my stack in against my fellow BB when I held a weak A-9, to his dominating A-Q. All I could do was look him straight in the eyes and say, "Thankfully, I have the 9." Of course the crap hit and I get an on-line like courtesy double up, in a pretty crazy spot.

I was having some really weird feelings at the table throughout the night. It was like time was standing still in a way but then suddenly I looked around and caught a glimpse of the reality surrounding me, and we were down to the final five and at the final table. I have a few serious blank spots between the ears, during the time we broke down to just the one table. This may sound stupid to the real NLHE MTT players out there but to me, there is a reason for the blanks. I was totally tilting myself for making a huge mistake in the game. With two interested in the action, I laid down pocket Jacks. My head told me I was way behind and it was an easy fold. My heart told me I was just being stupid. In the end of course, it was the winning hand and a monster of a pot would have been shipped in my direction. The more I considered what I'd done, the more vague everything around me seemed to be getting. Thankfully, there was a small break in the action that let me work it all out. My read was wrong and worst of all, for the first time during the evening, I was playing scared. Now that I had a shot at scolding myself for that, with five left to play for the win, I was taking this thing down!

Having said that to myself it was just at that moment, that I realized my Peb's was still alive as well. The two of us had made the money! SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!

Uh yah... That didn't last as long as I would have liked either. Some donkey busted her little stack out with pocket 3's. Yah... I busted out my wife in fifth. There was a hug, an "un-needed" apology and as always, another hug. Damn proud of Peb's for getting to the money and so deep into the event with this crowd.

The Bracelet was next to go, leaving just three. Myself, Otis and Badblood. I was for all intents and purposes, head's up against them both!

Three handed I played like a fool. I get my big chance to do something special to me and I blow it. Not as satisfying a result as I was hoping for but honestly, it was no ones fault but my own. I jammed once to steal the blinds or take my shot with an Ace, I get the win. Three hands or so later and I take another shot with a strong'ish Ace. Pass me the blinds. I think it was the next or second hand after and I shove one more time into Otis' big blind. This time with 8c-9s. Otis wakes up with Q-Q. A flop of A-8-x and I ask for the 9 on the turn. BING! The board is A-8-x-9 and this idiot that's writing this all out, is looking to pull off the suckout. A river Ace sends me back to Europe on my bicycle, where I truly do belong.

I finish third and get a result that considering all the blank time in my head near the end, is far better than I'm sure I deserved. I got lucky a few times, I got pwned a few times and most definitely, I got my money in good a few times and managed to hold on. All in all I guess it can be said I played a little Poker, while I was in G-Vegas for Mastodon weekend.

Here's a picture that I'm pretty damn proud of. It's the final three from Mastodon Poker. Badblood in 2nd., your Mastodon Champion Otis and some donk from Canada finishing in 3rd.

~photo also courtesy of Tao of Poker

The pride actually has nothing to do with the results, but everything to do with being able to call those two men my friends!

Perhaps we'll discuss the Saturday Golf, Frolf and drinking, that may or may not have actually taken place. Permissions are being requested as you read this. It ain't going to be easy telling a few of the stories that went on during the events of Saturday in G-Vegas but if I get a few of the go-aheads, you probably won't believe a word you read! One quick pre-approved sample includes;

They say The Black Widow kills her mate, right after all the action. I'm here to tell you that I'm a survivor! At this Mastodon gathering there were as always at any of the gatherings, hugs and smooches.

Occasionally though, there was a rittre tongue involved too!

~photo courtesy of The Doc.

In closing, I do have a couple of special thanks that I'd also like to put out there if I could. When any of you G-Vegas folk run across our dealer Brock over the next few days, tell him The Canadians thought he was incredible. We did our thing with a little pocket money of course but in reality, we would have loved to have gotten to know him a bit better over a drink or twelve.

Also the Bustout Poker crew! What an amazing thing they did, picking up our Dinner tab and bringing enough goodies to set the night into full gear, full on!

Most of the crew thought that this

was what they were bringing to the party. Oh they did that alright! And so very much more. You need something for Poker, I highly recommend you check them out!

Oh and if this didn't give you the vibe for our Friday night shenanigans, might I suggest a quick trip over to check out a short video that Pauly put up for review. (check out the massage I'm going orgasmic over!)

More later but for now, I need a drink.

My sincerest thanks for dropping by....