New Day Rising (Falling [Dying?])

11:25am

We'll go ahead and start over, since last night was too drunk to walk. Split the night games (push on SDSU, +2u on Wake, -2u on the UT/SDSU over (which was purely based on intoxication) . . . +4u for the tourney. Only one morning bet: +2 on Temple over Cornell at (-3.5).

Jared and I broke even at the casino . . . by which I mean he won a buck and I lost a buck. That's fun. I peed on Prairie Meadows on the way out. Nice forty 12s in a row, assbags.

Our trip to Village Inn this morning was completely uneventful . . . complete with disagreement with the "Did You Know?" that said a majority of people think sharing chocolate pie is the most romantic (answer is obv "Hair Pie"), Troy seeing a condor outside of the restaurant (it's 30 degrees in Iowa), and paying for a $9.95 tab with $12 and getting change back . . . with different 1's than were given to the waitress. Seriously? You didn't get that was a tip?

Also of note: no bloody mary mix at Walmart, Target or Casey's. HyVee was too far away, so we're starting with lovely mixed drinks that aren't bloody marys.

Justin's upstairs bathroom (the kid's bathroom; he's 2) now has toilet paper, so we're back to pooping post-Industrial Revolution. Also, the kid's shower has both shampoo and conditioner - his hair did look silky-smooth though, so who am I to judge?

I couldn't pull the trigger on anything for the UM/Xavier game, but that might be a true pick'em game, and the WVU line looks right (except for, y'know, Morgan State being up 5 right now) . . . We'll see what happens. LOVE GT though, in case any of you feel like printing money at +1.5.

--

4:15pm

Getting awesome - day 2 is always a wreck, because we start with liquor and you're re-drinking anyway. When you're pre-tarded, it doesn't take long to get into awful mode, and it's happening fast . . . for example, Tony and Troy just got locked up into a pseudo-humping position, where Troy threw some sort of f-ed-up wrist lock on Tony, then at the stalemate proclaimed "This is a weiiiiird situation." It was. It completely was.

During the early session, we had 2 games going, so TV3 featured an accidental change to infomercials . . . luckily it was "Brazilian Butt Lift." Just an epic infomercial, complete with lunges and hip thrusts and, uh, rubber bands. They offered the "pencil test" whereby you put a pencil under your buttock and if it doesn't fall, SURPRISE! You're fat!

Well, Troy's response: "If I did that, you wouldn't even see the fucking pencil."

Additional lines:

-"That guy would eat him from the butthole up" (in re: Badgers versus Terriers)
-Mettille does the Cap'n Morgan voice . . . "Calling AALLlellllelalll captains!" Brent then requests, "Say 'add green beans to the shopping list'" (he did)
-Brent: "We'll give you the tube steak - you've gotta work for the gravy." (also, he has a college education - this is not a NASCAR mentality or anything).

Wonderful. On the bright side, +3u on the afternoon session (split Wisconsin -10 and the under, then won Mizzou +2, Pitt -10 and Pitt moneyline -475 for 1u total win), putting me +5u for the tourney. Also took USU +3 against A&M, which looks TERRIBLE right now, so let's not get too attached to that. Punch me in the cock.


6:10pm

Decision time: so I kind of went nuts with the evening games (even though I only really like two of them) . . . so there's that. But first:

During a classic mid-afternoon drunktalk about what you would do with a hot tub time machine, Mettille gave the classic/normal "change some decisions"-type answer. Brent, however? He would "bring a pitcher of bahama mamas" to the party today . . . "one of those 2-gallon ones, that you have to use two hands on."

He followed up, 2 hours later, by saying "we need 1.5 liters of Bahama Mama."

Later: "No, this is my dick" followed by "My balls are too big, my penis cannot conquer them. They cannot divide. United they stand."

This was over a disagreement in beerpong rules: "Bitch I'm going to kill you. When you sleep." Later, wrestling with the kid and the dog, Brent said "UUGHHH, something just hit my balls . . . I hope it was the dog."

Riiight. So I love GT and moderately like both NMSU and FSU, so I did the obvious thing: 1u on each, plus a "wheeled" parlay with .5u on every two games plus all three games (for 2u total). I suppose I don't need to "win" or anything. Holy balls I'm a moron.

---

2am

Amazing night, spreadsheet-wise . . . ran the full boat for +5.5u in the night session (and my boy Jimmer ran along for much, much more money in Vegas dollars, which is always fantastic). Had everyone but OSU, plus a parlay, which is great.

In other news:

"I really thought only a loss would result in violent nudity. But I was wrong."

Riley stomps on shit: "If your kid were in Vietnam, he'd be DEAD."
BH: "If Riley were in Vietnam, he'd be Charlie."

Also, Verne Lundquist said earlier: "THAT'S A MAN'S JAM!" . . . uhhhh . . .

Nice life.

New Guy's in the Corner Puking His Guts Out

11:45am

On like Donkey Kong, or really any number of applicable cliches about the beginning of something. Jared and I actually made it by tip, which lost Tony money (clearly the best part of any given day) . . . normally this would end with "EAT A DICK SON" but it might be a touch too early.

Fantastic. This morning, I saw a kindly-appearing older gentleman walking around the sculpture garden, in that dedicated way where you can tell its his exercise for the day. He had on finely-pressed pants and one of those old-guy golf hats . . . and a navy blue "SPAM" sweatshirt. That's the metaphor for today: looks nice, with four TVs working with every game and 20 laptops running gambling spreadsheets, but at the end of the day, it's drunken asshole fried Spam. So good.

I drew my first drink out of the mystery bag, and wound up with Mike's Hard Cranberry. This year's booby prize: Hard Cranberry Light. Apparently it tastes like shame and iced scrotum. More to follow.

My bets:

-Ark Pine Bluff +4 (and the under at 112.5): +1.5u
-BYU -5 1u
-Nova -17.5 1u
-ODU +4 .5u

Yeah. All looking GREAT. Also Loyd Jr. for BYU is a stud, but fucking A . . . how can you be a black dude and go to BYU? They didn't allow black guys to go to heaven until like 1981, and no black priests until the 90s. The 1990s. This really happened. But yeah, brother - keep on grinding out. I need the 3s.

UNI and Marquette both play at the same time tonight (6:10 and 6:20), so this will be a total shitshow. Watching Brent and JC fight over which one is on the projection screen (and both should be GREAT games) is super exciting, like when you're expected sexual intercourse at some point in the near future but you're not quite sure when, how or why. In other words, it's High School-level excitement in here - Brent's running around the house with a yoke on his neck, while JC is speed-bombing Mickey's and punching the pork shoulder that's being smoked. Also, LOTS of "smoked meat" jokes, which are SO FUNNY. Meanwhile, Troy is dancing around to C&C Music Factory on a Papa John's commercial and asking if "Y'all ready for this" DUN DUH DUH.

Aaaaaand a "fucked your mother" joke - beautiful. See you guys never.


2:05pm

HOLY GOD DAMN MY LIFE what a wonderful cover by BYU. I LOVE MORMON PEOPLE!

That puts me +.5u and +2 for the tourney.

Also, the cheer when Jimmer Fredette started knocking down those last two free throws was delicious (obv Tony lost on UF there). Nearly as awesome as Jimmer's awkward-as-balls wave to the camera on top of him after a particularly gruesome layup miss/foul.

So far, it's been excellent - the first three games featured a one-point loss (and fucking GOOOOOOOOODY putting back a 2-pointer with no time, down by three - perhaps the stupidest thing I've ever seen in a non-Iowa basketball game) and two overtime games. Just amazing - best two days of the year.

As per usual rules, pooping is relegated to the farthest bathroom . . . those pipes are still exposed in the basement, so Brent has greeted every flush through those pipes with "There goes his turd!" The assumption is that Troy's BM would sound like someone dying on South Park - just gurgling and bubbling and a melting noise, possibly with audible English words.

We had to vote on which game to project . . . Brent was roundly outvoted, then got pissed, claiming his vote only counts 3/5ths (and with some claims he's still waiting on his 40 acres and a mule). Mild racism is always funniest when it is rooted in the 1850s. I told him he has to take a test and pay a tax before he can go to the fridge, we'll see how that goes.

Line of the day so far, about Steve's shih tzu/poodle mix (obviously a shitoodle):

JC: "Wait . . . aren't shih tzus like, this big ? How does a shih tzu fuck a poodle?"
*loooooooong pause*
JJ: "Uh, well . . . I think the poodle fucks the shih tzu."

(place everyone going "Ahhhhhhh" here)


6:05pm

It's getting a little silly . . . apparently, Justin has an Olympic weight set, complete with a 45 lb bar. This makes almost zero sense, so obviously we jumped on it and had everybody max. After about 5 hours of drinking. Troy and Mettille actually put up something around 235 . . . I did not.

Also, Brent and JC are now jockeying for clothing for those in attendance . . . handing out either UNI or Marquette paraphernalia and trying to get people in it. I'm in a Marquette Spring Party 2001 shirt, for instance. Brent is now wearing an adult L that is so big on him, he took off his pants and borrowed a woman's belt so it looks like a dress. This somehow makes sense. Tony has on bicep wraps like the Ultimate Warrior made out of purple t-shirt sleeves. Troy cut off the stomach, so he's busting out of the thing - he looks like a gay offensive lineman in 1982. I am so confused.

I won on St. Mary's and KSU (2u), and lost on Vandy (SO BAD JFKDL:AHOFDL) . . . now +4.5u, and pushing this:

-Kentucky -18.5
-UNI Pk
-Marquette -1

Also I parlayed all four unders . . . I have no idea why. Drinking? I guess.

Additionally, some choice lines that I don't have time to fully write up:

Brent: "I pushed in your mother's backdoor"
JC: "What if one of us goes south?"
Steve: "That's why the large ones are hard to take"
JC: "I have a no-porno clause"
JC: "I don't want the black cards."
Mettille: "Look at the vein on that one."

Also the beerpong bracket has begun, the porno cards are out, and the sun is out. I suppose . . . I suppose.

Loose Women, Hard Lemonade and Awkward Bank Shots

It's so close, you can smell it - that smell that will linger on you (and JC's basement) for a few days afterward, one that you don't even notice anymore because now, well, that's just how the world smells. And it smells good. Kind of.

We're three short days away from the opening weekend of the NCAA Tournament, where 64 teams will bludgeon each other over and over until one winner appears, ready to cut down the nets about 7 weeks after the tourney starts. Since it is an orgiastic day of basketball, gambling, and drinking, we've spent years (YEARS JERRY) perfecting how to best mix these three things together while still retaining jobs, families, and without driving anything anywhere at all. We've got it down to a science. A fat, hairy, awesome science. Here's from 07, and from 08, and from 09, although . . . I mean . . . I lived it, sister. I just don't remember any of it.

The gamboooling is clearly the most important part, however - and so I'll run down a little about my system for determining "fair" lines, which I'll use to coast to an even-money finish, losing again to Brent, who will brush his teeth before bed every night even though he passed out for hours in the afternoon.

The 'key' to the whole deal is what is known as the "log5" method of determining comparative win probability. That sounds complex, but it's not - basically, if one team is a .600 team and the other is a .550 team, we want to know how often the .600 team would win if they played a thousand times (hint: It's not .575). The formula is:

(A-A*B) / (A+B+2*A*B)

So in our example, the .600 team would be expected to win 55.1% of the time. We can then convert this to a money line/point spread - the 'real' line would be between 1.5 and 2.5 points (depending on your conversion method). Easy - and you can even do it in Excel after drinking all morning. Trust me, this is vital to any projection system.

The play-in game gives us a chance to test it out. Winthrop is a 4-point favorite over Arkansas-Pine Bluff, and when we look at the weighted "true" values for each team, it looks like our "true" spread should be anywhere from 2.8 to 3.5. Massey (www.mratings.com) puts his guess at 3.7 in the same direction, so we know we're in the ballpark as the big boys here.

Looking at some other factors (courtesy of www.kenpom.com - one of the greatest sites in the f-ing universe), Pine Bluff plays a moderately-paced game based around a solid defense and pretty frigging awful offense, while Winthrop . . . does exactly the same thing. In fact, their numbers are nearly identical - you would sleep with one and not realize it wasn't the other, at least until it rolled over and gave off the MangleFace Vibe. I don't know where I'm going with this, but the teams are remarkably similar. As a result, we have no need to shift our profile at all, so we can say we lean juuuuust a little toward taking the points and riding "The Harvard of Pine Bluff" as hard as possible (NOTE: in this analogy, Shooter's Bronco-Bustin' NASCAR Bar is the Yale of Pine Bluff, and the local Valero is Brown). Also note: don't bet this game, it's really too close to take any edge.

Top 15 Albums of 2009

OK - since I NEVER F-ING POSTED all year (OK I did, but not at the . . . prodigious . . . pace of yesteryear), I've been pretty bad with music updates. For that reason I'll expand to 15 this year - but I won't like it, and I will probably drink enough to fight you as a result. If you want, drop me a line and I'll upload some of these so you can "sample" THEN CLEARLY GO BUY IT IMMEDIATELY AND IN CONJUNCTION WITH AMERICAN COPYRIGHT LAWS. Get me a smoothie while you're out, with the PlusProtein add-in? Thanks, dollface.

15: The Hood Internet - Mixtape Vol. 4

While not quite on par with the ridiculous "Vol. 1", the fourth installment from the Chicago DJ duo matches up the weird/experimental (Weezer over faux italo?) with legit bangers (AZ/Ghostface over the Golden Filter) and shit that just works (SPOILER: my favorite song of the year over "Back Dat Azz Up"). And it's free. Sick.

14: Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion

Easily the best AC album, and contains two of the best songs of the year ("Brothersport" and particularly the superb "My Girls" - more on that one later).

13: Major Lazer - Guns Don't Kill People, Lazers Do

Sure, it's inconsistent, jokey and smacks of a one-off . . . and there's a 4-song stretch in the middle that completely sucks (CHOKE ON SOMETHING LARGE, AMANDA BLANK) . . . but the bookends of the album are more fun than watching Cowboys fans lose. A car banger if there ever was one.

12: Roll Deep - Street Anthems

Cheating a little - this is a "retrospective" singles collection. Still, it's everything right with the UK Grime movement, in a tidy package.

11: The XX - xx

It's like Zero7 for smart people - breezy, seemingly-effortless, but with real depth and power. The drum machine actually allows for the band to open up, instead of being a constraint. Just a stunning, out-of-nowhere debut.

10: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

Yeah yeah - it's a collection of obvious influences, almost like an indie-rock hybridization experiment (you can see the Mendel squares: "Dominant trait, Stone Roses - recessive, Pixies). But it's a GOOD one - full of harmony and that odd, cloudy-but-sunny disposition that make it work in the car or on the boat.

9: Dizzee Rascal - Tongue n Cheek

So the dude goes out and makes an electroclash album - and why not? Dizzee doesn't sound as fierce, as hungry, as he did in his first albums - but growth is a good thing, and sounding comfortable over an Armand van Buran beat works much better than chatting shit about geezers and gunplay. My British rap fixation continues unabated (insert own abating joke here).

8: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz!

Probably the best-named record of the year, because it really is a blitz - the YYYs keep the angular guitars, but lose the Joy Division for some New Order. Holy shit, it's an actual dance album - and Karen O's squawks and howls and lyrics fit the dance floor like a fucked-up bloody glove. This is the album the Killers wish they'd made instead of Sam's Town. "Get your leather on", indeed.

7: Mountain Goats - The Life of the World to Come

John Darnielle might be the best songwriter of this generation - he spins a story better than anyone, and can create consistent yet interesting album better than anyone this side of David Berman. A Biblical album without references to God, a spiritual journey that stops to ask questions, and a teacher who doesn't pretend to have all the answers - just a great, great album.

6: Japandroids - Post-Nothing

Beach songs about French kissing French girls, changing (or losing) dreams while growing up, or just simply reminiscing - all over the kind of fuzzed-out, devil-may-care attitude that takes years to master but minutes to hit hard. It's hard to sound this lackadaisical - and even harder to actually make the music matter as a result. Gorgeous.

5: The Avett Brothers - I and Love and You

Honestly, this was not an album I thought I'd enjoy (along with similar-yet-different group Mumford & Sons), but I and Love and You blew me away at first listen. The North Carolina bluegrass roots collide with an alt-folk mentality that reminds you of Wilco but quickly runs right past its influences - heartfelt and smooth, yet jagged with loss and despair.

4: Girls - Album

Everyone has the same thought their first listen through Album: "the dude who made this is totally and completely fucked up." Of course, the first song proclaims the singer is "fucked in the head" - it's not exactly subliminal, but it's still important, and his loss is our gain. Ranging from surf to 50s R&B to a hint of rockabilly and calypso at times, this is a beach record that wears its influences proudly but uses them to reinforce lyrical themes, rather than the other way around. An incredibly impressive effort from Girls.

3: Passion Pit - Manners

The new era of pop music will accept anything as an instrument - whether it's vocals or computer manipulation or banging on a trash can. Passion Pit's expansion to a full band pushed the falsetto and computer-assisted vocals further to the back but heightened their effect, creating soaring anthems that never cross into "Wind Beneath My Wings" schmaltz for longer than a second or two. Taking the 'build/release' formula of electronic music into the mainstream - the future is grand.

2: Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx Part II

A swaggering FUCK YOU to anybody who thought OB4CL2 was vaporware of the music world, or would be a pussy-footed effort like The Blueprint 3 - instead, Raekwon and especially Ghostface blow the doors down then pillage all your snacks and shit. I'm not sure it was the second-best album on artistic merit, but it was certainly the album I listed to the second-most this year.


1: Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

Unreal. Surreal. Perfect. Thomas Mars and Phoenix have come a long way in a short time, not by pushing boundaries, but by settling comfortably within their current vein and simply making pop music from a 60 degree angle. This album will always be the sound of 2009 for me, even if I want to murder a child every time I see the car commercial butchering "1901".

A Single Guy's Diary

So it's been a grip since I moved back to the Midwest (we like to call it "Californee-way"), and I used to do a ridiculous examination of every bad decision I made for my friends here . . . since the Boston Coalition (note: not black) is a bit out of the loop, I figure I should let the People (note: still not black) know what's happening in RC's idiotic life.

Yesterday, I watched the Iowa Hawkeyes rape face against the remnants of the Wisconsin Badger Legacy. Sconsin's coach is Bret Bielema, a former UI lineman who has a gigantic Hawk tattoo on his shin. Beating Sconsin is like oral sex - it's perfect, no matter what. I drank a sixer of tall boys before the game, so I was legit drunk from 8am to whenever I stood on my buddy's patio with my clothes off yelling "WILDCARD BITCHES!" at my buddy's crazy girlfriend. That's foreshadowing.

Anyway, I don't want to discuss every bad decision I made last night - I just want to focus on one particular moment. I managed to eat 3 "walking tacos" at tailgate, then knocked down a chicken caesar from Pita Pit on the way back from IC . . . this results in poop that looks like Gerber baby food. I was split peas all day. Shit was gross.

So obviously, instead of pooping at home like an actual human being, I waited until we got to the bar for the Red Sox game. When the dump descended, I was landlocked in the Court Ave district . . . so I committed the Cardinal Sin. I dumped in the bar.

Well, Johnny's Hall of Fame (soft "J" - pronounced correctly "Yonny's") was just gentrified (I <3 living in Richguypartoftown), and the bathroom lights are connected to a motion sensor. My poop was moving like Ice Road Truckers, so I took a little bit more time than the sensors anticipated, I suppose . . . the lights actually turned off on me. I was pooping in the dark. I would have rather been waterboarded than sitting in my own stink in the dark in the bar, at 7pm. I literally considered every bad decision I'd ever made in my entire life that led me to that point. It was a nightmare.

Since the lights were motion-sensitive, I tried to move - I waved my arms like a retard, trying to trip the sensor. I looked like this:



It was so bad that my buddies actually entered the bathroom to check on me - they could see through the foggy-glass window that the light was off. I was mocked mercilessly for my pooping fiasco, and I deserved every bit of it. Also, did not get laid, although I got naked on the 9th floor of the Plaza downtown (while screaming "WILDCARD BITCHES" as previously noted). Just another blue-sign night as a single white dunce.