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  1. 47 likes
    Sorry for the lack of updates. A lot going on obviously... but I wanted to give a quick one. Jack has had a rough month or so as he was going through both chemo (every week - sometimes 5 days a week) AND radiation (5 days a week for 4 weeks). Biggest issue was his inability to stay hydrated (or nourished). Had several overnight stays in ER to get IV fluids. It was mostly due to the radiation as the field they were treating included most of his digestive tract. Nausea and diarrhea were common. Although the radiation oncologist (an absolute awesome guy) kept referring to Jack as "Lead Belly" because most people getting his dose would have been much worse off and not been able to continue. Now done with the radiation, Jack is slowly returning to "normal"... although at 6' 125#, he needs a sandwich or 3. It's tough to put/keep weight on as he's just not hungry. His next set of scans are at the end of the month so we'll get an idea how he's truly progressing. He also celebrated his 18th Birthday on Monday... But the real reason for the update (getting dusty in here) is because a week and a half ago, Jack completed all of his college apps (FWIW, his essay was amazing if I do say so myself). Today... just over a week after submitting them... he got accepted into MSU! My 3rd Sparty (should he ultimately decide to go there). Kid amazes me every single day. Thanks for your continued T&Ps... we have a long road still ahead of us... but if anyone can do it, Jack can.
  2. 37 likes
    I still think a small percentage of men are responsible for 90% of the harassment, but it's pretty jarring to see how widespread it is. It's nauseating to see all the allegations coming out, but it's a watershed moment for victims. If people are no longer ashamed, no longer blaming themselves and feel emboldened to speak out, that can only be good. I hope it continues so that the risk of exposure is so great that it becomes a rare thing.
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    All I can tell you is what I would do if my son ran into this. He's in 6th grade now, but I know this is right around the corner. If he is "dating" someone who mentions anything about hurting herself or killing herself, I'm either contacting her parents or the school. I've had to live with the fact that someone I knew committed suicide years ago, and all the warning signs were there. I just didn't know at the time what to look for. So I vowed I would never ignore those signs again. And if the fall out is that my son is mad at me for awhile, then so be it. I'm a parent first.
  5. 29 likes
    You're complaining about a 52nd birthday gift?
  6. 26 likes
    suited up in my pepe shirt, #maga hat, and adult diapers, seated on the wreckage of my keurig machine and the ashes of my nfl tickets, with a platter of cold, fetid papa johns pizza before me, i mentally prepare myself for another day of defending a child molester to own the libs
  7. 25 likes
    Voted..... ... for the first time in my life straight Democrat. The GOP can go to hell for what they are and for making me do it.
  8. 25 likes
    Hillary could stand on 5th avenue doing nothing and she'd be accused of shooting someone.
  9. 25 likes
    If we didn’t know better, we might think that the resurrection of s two year old debunked uranium conspiracy theory was designed to muddy the water.
  10. 24 likes
    Hey, thanks for stopping by. I just wanted to say that I think it's totally awesome that this forum's leading critic of powerful men accused of sexual assault and harassment is also its head cheerleader for a President who has been accused of both by over a dozen women and was caught on tape admitting to sexual assault. You're a class act and people like you who are definitely not a huge part of the problem at all. Keep up the good work.
  11. 24 likes
    I once attended a concert with Robert Plant.. he was on the stage and i was in the stands..
  12. 24 likes
    So the original meaning of "nothingburger" has always been "a number of people with prominent positions on Trump's campaign team and in his administration will be criminally charged with conspiring against the United States but possibly not Trump himself"? I don't think that's how the term was being used a few months ago.
  13. 24 likes
    Sounds like some of the best gifts you cadaver get.
  14. 23 likes
    Part 2 - Saturday So after sleeping for a few hours, all the bachelor party attendees started trickling in. This Saturday happened to be day 1 of the NFL draft, so Murray (the bachelor) immediately knocked on my door and drummed me out of bed to go watch the draft in the sportsbook. Leaving the Ox, Yams, and our friend Beef snoozing away, I pulled myself together and headed down, hungover as s###, to the book and grabbed a seat to follow the draft. I met a bunch of Murray's friends who were popping in and out between runs to the tables, and started in on the bloody mary barrage. These guys were fresh as daisies and I knew the only way I could get back to normal was to wallop as many of these as I could in short order to whip the hangover into submission. After about 9, I switched back to beer and started socking away as many as I could with the drink tickets I kept collecting by placing paltry $10 and $20 baseball bets. Remember those days? A small wager and a smile often got you 3-4 drink tickets, nowadays you have to bet over $100 a game AND tip the guy placing the bet for you, otherwise you pay $7 a beer. New Vegas sucks. Anyway, by the time it got to mid-afternoon and all my partners in crime from the night before were up and about, I was already three sheets to the wind. Beef, who'd arrived at the crack of dawn on a red-eye and slept all morning, asked me what number drink I was on. When I told him "17," he just rolled his eyes and laughed : "Well, we know where this night is going." Not exactly. By the time the draft was starting to wind down. Scott Ferrall was doing a live radio broadcast from a booth set up in the sportsbook, so I wandered over there to check it out. I had recently become familiar with his work, so while he was on air, I started bellowing to him to pour me a draft, etc (listeners of his know what I mean.) Then, I started yelling at him to play "Fight Fire with Fire" by Metallica. I was so loud and obnoxious, that I actually got his attention and he started talking to me while he was on air (I believe.) He said something about "some guy requesting 'Fight Fire With Fire'", then spat out, in his inimitable scratchy voice : "Yeah... why not have another drink, what is it, 3:30 in the afternoon?" After that, having annoyed someone famous for the second time in under 24 hours, I figured it was time for a change of scenery and something to eat. I rounded up a bunch of the bachelor party guests and the bachelor and we all headed to Rumjungle to get the Brazilian churrascaria. On the way, I stopped and bought a 750ml of Jager from the gift shop in a brown paper bag and brought this with me to the restaurant. While everyone else was sipping caipirinhas, I was liberally swilling from my bottle of Jager, no glass. I'm sure the waitresses weren't particularly thrilled with this, but I think they recognized that I was pretty far gone and didn't want to deal with the hassle of trying to take it from me or kick me out and lose the tip on a 4-figure check. While we shoveled medium rare beef into our faces, I regaled the table, many of whom I had just met, with a bunch of the stories you guys have read in this thread. Eventually, everyone just kind of stopped talking and was listening and laughing to the many misadventures of your old pal EG, up to and including part 1 of this story. After dinner, we walked back over towards the sportsbook and Murray (degenerate gambler) challenges me to take $100 and put it on one event, something stupid, just for s##ts and giggles. Hammered and amenable, I walk up with him and survey the board. He gets to the window first and decides to plop his hundo down on the San Francisco Demons money line to win the inaugural (and last, I believe) XFL Million Dollar Game. I couldn't believe he was betting XFL and figured that was about as ridiculous a wager (excepting futures) that one could place for the night, and then I saw it. I slammed my hundred on the counter and told the guy I wanted to wager it all on Hasim Rahman to defeat Lennox Lewis at +1400. Well, sports fans, I don't think I need to tell you what happened next. San Francisco got absolutely smoked in the XFL Super Bowl (maybe even shut out?) while the rapidly tiring and thoroughly outclassed Hasim "The Rock" Rahman landed the lucky punch heard 'round the world and knocked the champion right on his back. Apparently, I wasn't the only one heavy on Rahman because as Lewis hit the canvas, the book absolutely EXPLODED. I don't know if you've ever been at a Vegas book when a huge underdog wins and a large percentage of the punters are on that longshot, but it was absolute chaos. People were losing their minds as the count went on - people jumping off of chairs, running around screaming, just bedlam. When the ref waved it off and Rahman leapt up in victory, a roughly 65 year old toothless black man with a filthy mesh baseball cap leapt into my arms. I grabbed him and started running down the aisle squeezing him throughout the piggy-front ride. A sea of humanity descended behind us to the windows with such passion and vigor that they actually had to get on a microphone and beg people in the book through the PA to "BACK UP ! BACK UP PEOPLE !! WE'RE NOT GOING TO RUN OUT OF MONEY...." After I collected my cool $1,500 - there was only one thing I wanted to do. That's right, buy ANOTHER 750ml of Jagermeister from the gift shop. Having wiped out the first one (without very much help,) I figured the best thing to do was buy another bottle. After doing so, the few of us that watched the fight went back up to the suite to find that the evening's entertainment had arrived. The best man had arranged for a trio of professionals to provide some in-room entertainment and we were just in time. I paid my share and the shares of the guys that stayed to watch the fight with me from my newly found windfall and we settled in for some hot girl-on-girl action. I was pouring Jager shots into Solo cups for anyone that wanted to toast with me for winning the hail mary bet and by now, I was totally ossified. The suite was full of beer and booze - they'd even filled one of the tubs with ice and had at least 200 beers and various other libations in there - so the best man told the ladies of the evening to help themselves to whatever they liked to drink (not that it really matters, but I didn't hear/know this.) So, I'm sitting on the couch talking to my buddy when one of the girls comes up beside me without my seeing her. I hear : "Yeahhhh, he got what I want..." as she rips the bottle of Jager out of my hand and starts unscrewing the cap. For whatever reason, in the moment, I felt aggrieved that she'd simply torn the bottle away from me, and now I see her about to drink directly from the bottle with her whorelips. Instead of letting this pass, I yelled out "HEY !!" and jumped up and snatched the bottle away from her right as she was about to take a healthy pull. She looked flabbergasted, as did the dozen or so dudes that were nearby in the suite. After a beat, she says something to the effect of : Hooker : "Hey, what the f### man!?" (She starts trying to grab the bottle back from me.) EG : "Whatever - this is my celebratory Jager bottle and you didn't ask me for a shot." I said this with a smile on my face, fully intending to pour her a shot once she got a glass (she was NOT going to drink out of that bottle, I don't care if alcohol kills germs.) "Grab a glass and-" Hooker : "F### you !!!" (She now grabs the bottle and is yanking on it, trying to wrestle it away from me.) She's REALLY pulling on this thing, it's now a matter of principle for both of us, I guess. Ultimately, I am able to overpower the 110 pound woman (:flex:) and haul the bottle back away from her. She's visibly pissed off at this point but damn it, if we don't have manners, what has society come to. So, in order to teach her an etiquette lesson, I decided to handle it thusly. EG : "Oh yeah? F### me? Well, now you don't get ANY !!!!!!" And with this, I proceeded to open and chug the remaining half bottle of Jager in about 15 seconds, right in her face. EG : "There you go, B#TCH !!!!" And with that, I left the suite and slammed the door behind me. I walked down to the elevator and a few seconds later, the door opens and Ox, Yams, and Beef all spill out into the hallway, beside themselves with laughter. Yams : "Dude, that was the single greatest thing I have ever seen in my life." Beef : "You should see it in there, everyone is just standing around slack-jawed in utter silence. No one can believe it." Ox : "I think they're all confused. I mean, I don't know if this was the time to dig your heels in and refuse to concede the moral high ground." EG : "If you don't have rules, you have disorder !!!" Ox : "Are we going back in?" EG : "Hell no, let's go to Olympic Gardens...." So, off we went to Olympic Gardens. For those of you unfamiliar, this is a strip club just north of Stratosphere, in the seedier part of town. We grab a cab there and the place is jammed on a Saturday night. We can't find seats anywhere, so we're standing at the back bar, watching the dancers from afar. I'm nearly blind drunk after about 20 drinks and the better part of 2 full fifths of Jagermeister, everyone else is pretty well lit, but not as bad as I am. We're minding our own business, talking and laughing, when this Latina girl pops up next to us, a patron rather than a dancer. She's obviously pissed about something, so I ask her what's wrong. She goes off on a tirade about what an a**hole her boyfriend is, how he's treating her like crap, he doesn't listen to her - I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention. Anyway, ultimately, Yams asks her : "Is he here with you?" She says yes and points down towards the mob of people sitting around the various stages. Regrettably, I say : EG : "That guy? Right there?" (I'm not referring to anyone specific, just looking in the general direction she is.) Chica : "Yeah, right there." EG : "Holy ####, Yams, that's the guy who asked us on the way in how much it costs to get hand jobs in here !" Chica : :"WHAAAT !!!?" Yams (playing along) : "Ohhhhh yeah....." EG : "Yeah, I told him that this is just a strip club, not a brothel, but he was insistent that you could get a tug in this place." I barely finish the sentence before this girl storms off, absolutely apoplectic. She runs down to the lower level and starts SCREAMING at her boyfriend. He stands up, then his crew stands up. Now, we're a pretty big group of 4 but these guys are frigging enormous. And frightening. And all decked out head to toe in Raiders gear. It hits us like a glass of ice water that we are potentially about to be in very serious trouble if this guy starts asking her who told her this nonsense. I grab the Ox and Beef, who have now gotten hip to what's going on, and we start making our way around the periphery of the bar. We barely get moving before I see her pointing back to where we were standing and looking for us as her very VERY angry boyfriend is beginning to walk in that direction. We pick up our pace and get to the door unseen, throw our drinks down, and bolt out of there into the Vegas night. I didn't really feel safe again until we were mid-Strip. Unfortunately, I have run out of time for today. Tune in tomorrow for the (somewhat anti-climactic but kind of amusing) conclusion - Part 3 - SUNDAY.
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    I thought this thread was gonna be about you. So , it could be worse.
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    You had dinner near Samuel L. Jackson last night.
  19. 22 likes
    Let the school know. Share the texts.
  20. 22 likes
    Blake Hounshell: It is shocking that some random Twitter employee could shut down the president's account. What if they instead had tweeted fake messages? Jill Weinberger: It's almost like Twitter is a casual social media site & not a secure platform the president should use to discuss policy on a whim at 3am.
  21. 22 likes
    The only thing Trump could do to look more guilty is write a book called: If I Colluded
  22. 21 likes
    KnittaPhD‏ @knittaphd 13h13 hours ago Media: lying Mueller: lying Comey: lying Obama: lying Clinton: lying Judges: lying Sex assault accusers: lying Scientists re: climate change: lying Doctors re: ACA: lying Mother of slain U.S. soldier: lying Intelligence services: lying Putin: "He means it. I believe him.”
  23. 21 likes
    Your premise is that sex assault victims feel empowered under "Grab Them By The #####" Administration?
  24. 21 likes
    This. When I first saw the fish food gif I thought "LOL what in the world? Typical Trump." Then, not 5 minutes later, I checked another source that showed the real story. "Well that sucks. Not sure why people need to fabricate instances that make Trump look like a goon." I didn't think "Well obviously the second source is fake news. " Like most rational people my opinion changes when presented with new evidence.
  25. 21 likes
    My wife was a whore. She was not only regularly raped as a child, along with her older siblings, by her father but traded like a baseball card among other Wisconsin countryclub dads and, from age eight, had to seduce her father on each of his night prowls in order to keep her younger brother safe. She took her first chance, being sent to an equestrian camp in Arizona, to escape @ age 15 and was a street prostitute for quite a while. A john fell for her, convinced his family in Mexico to take her in and married her the minute she was legal. After that fell apart, my Mary moved to San Francisco and supported her way thru nursing school and a healthy drug habit by being a Union Sq hotel callgirl. She neither celebrated nor regretted her time in the life and i never saw her have any difficulty as a result of it. I benefited as much from her nurse's casuality with body parts as any tricks of her former trade. She loved me as deeply but normally as any other woman, mostly because i could hold my own and a little of his against her Nazidoctor of a father, which allowed her to family again. She always had a healthy sexual appetite, was a total flirt but exhibited no fatal urge in that regard and, except for one drunken, deflected hit on my best pal - a mega-Italian who even turned men into women - i believe her to have been entirely faithful to me in our twelve years together before she died. I was faithful too, but it was easy because we broke up dozens of times due to the unmanageable hate in her heart from her childly misuse which crowded out any chance of consistent feeling. It is why i've spent the 20 years since her death studying the nature of human happiness and, as a result, have been able to help various people who've been unable to make a connection with themselves. Everything comes full circle if one pays enough attention & care. nufced
  26. 21 likes
    Yup. My wife and I met on Match.com. She was living in China and I was in Massachusetts. Exchanged many emails back and forth over a few months, then we met in September 2009. We did the K1 Visa deal where she came to the U.S. in June of 2010 and had 90 days to get married. We got married in Las Vegas with an Elvis wedding on July 31, 2010. Everything has been hunky-dory ever since.
  27. 20 likes
    VEGAS CHAPTER IV - Part 1 This will likely be the finale of the Vegas Chronicles although there were humorous moments from other Vegas weekends, I don't know that any of them require their very own story. Perhaps one day, I'll go back and try to recall a bunch of these and put them in a "vignettes" post. This weekend was pretty memorable, though. FRIDAY Ox, Yams and I were all in SLC at the time - the Ox and I lived there and were good friends with a guy named Murray, who was having his bachelor party in Vegas that Saturday. Yams was still in undergrad school but had worked for Murray the summer before on an internship I wrangled for him and decided to fly out for the festivities. Murray and all his friends from both SLC and his hometown/college days in NY were arriving very late Friday night/early Saturday morning, so for one night, my two brothers and I were on our own. Right before we flew out Friday morning on the short 55 minute flight from SLC, I got an e-mail from a girl that worked at my company's San Francisco office. We had hooked up once a few months prior when I was on business at their office and she told me that she was also going to be in Vegas that weekend with a guy she had recently started dating and wanted to know if we wanted to meet them for drinks. I told her we were staying at Mandalay Bay (they were staying at the Hard Rock) and told her to leave me a message on my room phone if she wanted to hang out (this was a few months before I got my first cell phone.) We arrived early at Mandalay and to none of your surprise, began drinking almost immediately. We spent the better part of the morning/afternoon crushing comp beers and drinks and gambling all over the hotel without incident. Around 5:00, we were in the gift shop buying something when I hear some commotion behind me. I turn around to see 4 of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen in my life, clad only in bikinis, with sashes on them with the names of countries on those. As my eyes were popping out of my head, I asked the counter person what the hell was going on. Unbeknownst to us, the Miss Hawaiian Tropic International finals were going on at the hotel that weekend. We basically stood and gawked when one brave soul stepped to Miss Brazil and started trying to rap with her. I admired the guy's bollocks for sure, but the ruthless speed and efficiency with which he was shot down was mesmerizing. We quickly bee-lined to the pool to see what was going on, but they had essentially folded up shop for the day, much to our dismay. Now the three of us are walking around (more than) half drunk and with booty on the brain, so we sit down at a blackjack table that had a few cute girls at it. We play a few hands, and then a guy sits down two seats to my right. I didn't realize it at first, but after a few hands, I look over and it's "Beverly Hills 90210" star Ian Ziering. I blurt out : "Hey ! Ian ! (even pronouncing his name "correctly" - EYE-in.) He looks over and nods. For some reason, I knew he was from Jersey, same as myself, so I make some idle chatter about how we're both Jersey kids, blah blah blah. He's (rightly) disinterested in what I am saying and kind of tunes me out. As it turns out, his wife Nikki is somehow involved with the Hawaiian Tropic pageant and he's slipping a few hands of blackjack in during the downtime between appearances/judging/whatever he's doing there. As time goes on and I get progressively drunker, I start yapping about the one episode of "90210" I had ever actually seen. My memory of it is fuzzy, but it involved some kind of overnight or weekend trip that these wacky kids were on where his character, Steve, wanted to get booze and get hammered but is shot down by the other (lame) characters. Something like that. Anyway, I start talking about it as I have absolutely nothing else to say to him, and to his credit, he obliges my drunken rambling for a little while. Eventually though, he starts to get annoyed (again rightfully so,) especially since I have ceased referring to him by name entirely and am now just calling him Steve. The exchange ended with something along these lines (paraphrasing): EG : "Steeeeeeeeeeve... that was awesome. You wanted to get beer, but the rest of those dorks just wanted to sit around and play cards. What a bunch of nerds - you were the only cool one, Steve. Did you-?" Ian (interrupting, mildly annoyed) : "Yeah, that was the character. It's not like I wanted to get beer and my cast-mates didn't. It's a TV show." EG (now mildly annoyed back by the perceived condescension) : "Yeah, I know the difference between real life and a television program. I'm just having some fun here." Ian : "Are you? You keep calling me 'Steve'." EG : "I called you EYE-IN (emphasizing the stupid pronunciation) when you sat down, man. Look, there's only one way to settle this. We're doing a shot of Jager together." (signals for the cocktail waitress) Ian : "Thanks but no thanks. I don't really want to do a shot of Jager." EG : "With me?" Ian : "No, I just don't really want one, period." EG : "Bulls*** !!" (to cocktail waitress) : "Two Jager shots, please." Ian : "You're drinking them both yourself." EG : "You think I'm afraid to do 2 Jager shots? I've been drinking all day" Ian : "You don't say..." EG : "All right, look, Steve. You're doing this shot with me and I'll hear no more about it." Ian : "Jesus H." (gathers up his chips and leaves) Ox : "Wow [EG], you just annoyed Steve right off the table. Nice work. I'll do the extra Jager shot." Fast forward a few hours and we're now completely destroyed. I mean wasted to the point of not being able to walk properly. I become obsessed with finding this girl I hooked up with 3 months ago, even though she's here with her boyfriend. I call over to the Hard Rock, but there's no room booked under her name (predictably.) We're beginning to draw attention at Mandalay for our drunken buffoonery (Ox tackled Yams and me in the lobby at one point and security gave us a stern talking-to) so we decide to go somewhere else for a while. Where better than the Hard Rock, right? 30 minutes later, we're at the Hard Rock at one of the bars, barely able to stand. I'm scanning the casino floor through half-open eyes trying to find this girl in the sea of humanity when the Ox hands me a shot. Thinking it's whiskey, I gulp it down, only to realize immediately that it was cheap tequila. Now, 2001 EG and cheap tequila did not get along well. We did once, but a night of such excess that I woke up in the neighbors' shrubs, covered with vomit, soured me on tequila for many years in general (specifically, it was Ole.) The second my taste buds registered what liquor this was, my stomach turned completely over in a flash. I had enough time to look up to see if there was a bathroom nearby, but not take a single step, before I threw up about a gallon of liquid all over the bar/floor. The Ox, having done this intentionally, squealed with laughter as I regurgitated over and over again until security appeared and escorted us swiftly and curtly off the grounds. Fast forward a few more hours and we're back at Mandalay, at the same blackjack table I annoyed Steve away from earlier. By now, it's after midnight and we've been partying aggressively for about 13-14 hours straight. Things have gotten dicey. We sit down at the blackjack table and Yams orders a gin and tonic. We play about three hands before Yams knocks his drink over and spills it all over the felt. I groan as the dealer calls for a towel to mop up the mess. Yams is looking around sheepishly as they clean up his mess when he spots the cocktail waitress and orders a replacement drink. I actually started to protest, but it was too late. After a few minutes, the drink is replaced, the table is clean and play resumes. For about 60 seconds. **WHACK** Another gin and tonic all over the table. I couldn't believe it, I was about to say "Yams, maybe you should take a break" when the dealer just leans across the table, looks him square in the eye and sternly enunciates : "GO. TO. BED." I started laughing, but agreed with him and grabbed Yams and took him up to the room. By now, it's nearing 1 AM and I figured maybe it was time for a quick nap myself, when I notice the message light on the phone is on. I hit the message button and hear the familiar voice of the gal I was trying to locate at Hard Rock, telling me that she was parked at the Center Bar at Mandalay and to come down there if I hear this message. So naturally, I high-tail it down there and sure enough, she's sitting there, by herself. Puzzled, I roll up and ask where her new boyfriend is. She tells me that this was their first weekend away and after a few hours, she realized he was "boring and kind of lame," so she ditched him and came over to Mandalay looking for me. What a skank. I actually had something of a moral/ethical debate with myself for about 11 seconds before I pushed those feelings aside and started applying the Timeless Art of Seduction. It really wasn't necessary as she was, to borrow bon mots from "Jersey Shore" parlance, thoroughly DTF. The problem was that she was decidedly NOT down to go back to my room and shag with Yams milling around or even passed out in there, and ostensibly her new "boyfriend" was likely to be in her room at Hard Rock. So, we did what any drunk, degenerate, horny 20-somethings would do, we rolled into the men's room right off the casino floor. We ushered ourselves quickly into the handicapped stall and she grabbed the rail while your old pal EG gave the what for from behind. I know the casino is covered with cameras, so I was half-waiting for the stall door to get kicked in by security at any second, but it never happened. Either we were undetected or security just didn't give a crap with all the money changing hands at the tables. Post-coitus, we slid out of the stall and then the restroom under the gazes of several casino patrons - some confused, some approving - and back into the casino proper. I was escorting her toward the front door/taxi stand so she could get back to her cuck boyfriend at Hard Rock when suddenly, I get absolutely leveled from behind. Thinking for sure that it was police or security taking me down for my bathroom foray, I was prepared to be ejected from the hotel or thrown in the drunk tank when I realize that it's the Ox. The Ox likes to tackle me when he gets really hammered. The Ox is 6' 5" 275 lbs. Two of my ribs cracked from this impromptu QB sack in the lobby onto a tile floor, but I barely felt it at the time, such was my relief that it wasn't security. My joy was short-lived as not more than 15 seconds later, ACTUAL security descended upon us. The gal saw them coming and wisely rolled out the front door to hail a cab while the security guards accosted Ox and myself. Luckily, as registered hotel guests, all they did was escort us back to our room, where we promptly passed out. I never saw my bathroom tryst again, in person at least (postscript will afford clarity to this.) Part 2 - Saturday to follow this afternoon or tomorrow AM.
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    YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HES GOING TO TAKE IT TO THE BANK
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    The Pleasure of Seeing Carter Page Set Himself on Fire RICK WILSON 11.08.17 4:05 PM ET SERGEI KARPUKHIN/REUTERS Watching Carter Page immolate himself and incriminate a half dozen of his colleagues from the Trump-Putin 2016 campaign has been a strange, almost guilty pleasure. Profoundly disconnected, socially awkward, and reeking of late-stage virginity, he gives off the creepy Uncanny Valley vibe of a rogue, possibly murderous android or of a man with a too-extensive knowledge of human taxidermy and a soundproofed van. Legal scholars watching Page’s borderline insane interviews, reviewing his bizarre public statements and reading the wackadoodle transcripts of his testimony to congressional investigators have expressed various levels of shock. His testimony this week must have dismayed his friends in Trump world; a long, rambling, performance art piece before the House which confirmed key sections of the Steele Dossier and opened up entirely new venues for investigation. The emerging paper trail of his forays into Russia has been an amazing mosaic of comic-opera misunderstandings, grand and petty corruptions, grade-school category errors, and fundamental delusions about Putin’s kleptocracy. In short, Page is a perfect example of the ad-hoc weirdness of the Trump campaign, Trumpism’s deep, misplaced love of Putin’s Russia, and the power of magical thinking among the coterie of misfit toys Trump calls his advisors. Page is weird and wrong and in most campaigns he’d be the weirdest, wrongest dog in the pack. In Trump world, Carter Page is in the middle quintile. A bizarre fascination with Russia as an ally shaped the view of many of Trump’s foreign policy advisors like Steve Bannon, Mike Flynn, Stephen Miller, Seb Gorka and the rest of the Foreign Policy Center for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Want To Read Good. Yes, a meaningful fraction of it is informed by an alt-rightish belief that the U.S. and Russia are white Christian allies in the global war on Islam and brown people in general, but some of it is just their natural inclination toward nationalist authoritarianism. Page didn’t just talk the pro-Russian talk; he threw himself into the eager arms of SVR operatives. Like the rest of the Trump world, Page brought a kind of underpants Gnome theory to his bromance with Team Putin. Through some unknown alchemy, he expected to benefit Trump, and gain influence and profit from his Russia foray. It’s not that Page is stupid in the same way many Trump voters are mulishly immune to processing empirical facts in the world around them, it’s that Page’s odd affect and thinking reflects something profoundly off kilter about him in the same way Trump’s entire persona consists of bluster, magical thinking, and wilful self-deception. The delta between Trump’s imagination of himself and the brand image that he desperately wants to sell is always wide; he’s the “billionaire” lout playing the Manhattan sophisticate who gorges on fast food. He’s a man with a lemur wig and a five-pound bolus of chin-wattle who think’s he’s irresistible to women. He’s the serially bankrupt master of the Art of the Deal. The TV talk show character who snuck into the Oval Office on a tide of Russian influence and now thinks he won on the merits. Page was an easy mark for Russian intelligence services because he lives in the same world of willful self-deception as Trump. Carter Page, International Business Man of Mystery, jet-setting wheeler-dealer and foreign policy savant was a view shared by only Carter Page, world-class dork and sucker. In the FBI investigation of a Russian intelligence cell that sought to suborn Page in 2013, the contempt in which the SVR agents held Page was clear: “This is intelligence method to cheat, how else to work with foreigners? You promise a favor for a favor. You get the documents from him and tell him to go f--ck himself.” As Foreign Policy reported, “Based on the FBI complaint, it appears Page never realized his Russian contact worked on behalf of Moscow’s intelligence services.” It’s not simply that Page was credulous; his credulity was a hot wire inside the already Putin-philic Trump inner circle. Page is just the most obviously gullible of the Trump cadre. Mike Flynn, both venal and bitter, was also easy pickings. Seb Gorka would probably shine Putin’s shoes in exchange for a gimcrack medal. Steve Bannon, a man better suited to promoting bumfights than grand strategy, thinks of himself as a player on par with Putin, which is an eye-rolling hilarious thought to sane people. The rest of the jetsam dragged behind Trump’s sewage barge of a campaign will be little different, and all of them are under the hot lights of Robert Mueller’s investigation. Something about the prospect of spending a long time in a federal prison wearing an orange jumpsuit peels away the layers of bluster and pretense. Page’s interview with the House was a situation in which he was in little legal jeopardy, but the flopsweat rolling off him came through in almost every strange exchange. Following a Breitbartian anti-Hillary screed in the beginning of his testimony, Page had all the confidence of a whipped dog, lost and desperate. Like all Trump acolytes and supporters, Page is learning a key lesson: once the delusional sales pitch of Trumpism is pulled back, you’re on your own. This strange, lost man is one of the most public examples of how ugly the world looks when the con and the crimes are exposed, but he sure as hell won’t be the last.
  31. 20 likes
    It would be amazing if this idiot got Icahn, Sessions, DeVos, etc all put in jail because they were stupid enough to back him. Thereby saving several different regions of the country and, fascinatingly, making America great again.
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    Ex-wife and it will be her final alimony payment!!!!
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    I don’t think it’s fair to suggest that Trump supporters aren’t willing to change their minds when presented with new evidence. They are. For example, a year ago, many people said that they voted for Trump because he promised to build a wall, repeal Obamacare, defund Planned Parenthood, and bring back coal-mining jobs and steel mills. They said that if he didn’t keep his promises, they’d withdraw their support for him. Now the evidence is in — he didn’t keep any of those promises — and sure enough, his supporters have changed their minds. They no longer care about coal mining or whatever. They no longer pretend that their support for Trump is about achieving legislative aims. Trump is awesome regardless of any of that, they’ve now decided, because he’s on their side against the true threat to their way of life: NFL players taking a knee. Link.
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    The $12 million figure comes from a Trump tweet, which is normally pretty reliable, but Reuters says it was $168,000.
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    update: the wife contacted someone at the school who is actually a friend of hers. she is a 'mandated reporter' so she had to notify the authorities. the cops are at her house as we speak. I talked to my son when I got home and told him he's too young for a gf, and especially to have to deal with issues like this. let him know if the gf mentioned this again, he was supposed to tell her to get some help and they couldn't be friends until she did. let him know she would lash out at him and attempt to manipulate him. right after the cops showed up, the instagram messages started rolling in: the cops are here!! WTF!! I hate my life!! who did you tell?!! . Son tells her this might be a good way to get help. she comes back with '#### YOU, I DON'T NEED HELP'. he says yes you do. so hopefully she can get some help but it sounds like the bf-gf thing should be over anyway. son seems to be taking it in stride. hoping for the best thanks for the responses, fellas! PS: (wife won't let me sleep with the mom)
  36. 20 likes
    Apparently twitter acknowledged their mistake. They were banning all accounts that were created and funded by Russian bot farms and this account happened to hit all of the content criteria of their algorithm.
  37. 20 likes
    I'm half-Japanese and grew up in a very white neighborhood. I saw that gesture a lot when I was a kid and there were times that it hurt. I haven't seen anyone do it in years, partially because we hopefully live in more enlightened times but primarily because I'm an adult and I interact mostly with other adults. It's both serious and stupid when a 33 year old man (who played in the Japanese Leagues before coming to Houston) pulls that act, especially in an environment where he knows he'll be observed doing it. It's disrespectful of a colleague and straight up racist; he should know better. We should all know better. That said, I think there are more constructive ways to address his behavior. I'd be concerned about backlash if he's suspended and it's seen as impacting the outcome of the series. If Gurriel is truly contrite, there are things he can do to prove it on and off the field. Personally I'm more interested in education than punishment but MLB may be more interested in appearances. I think a suitable punishment would be to make him wear that stupid hair-do for the rest of his life.
  38. 19 likes
    Part 3 - Sunday So after we returned to Mandalay Bay after our brief, ill-fated trip to Olympic Gardens, we ate quickly and then returned to our suite to pass out. Never went back to the bachelor's suite to find out how the rest of the evening with the hired help played out (I later found out it was uneventful.) Around 3:30 AM, I wake up in bed and am more dehydrated than I have ever been in my life. It didn't occur to me at the time that I had had nothing non-alcoholic to drink in 48 hours and had probably consumed the equivalent of 70-80 drinks in that span. I literally felt like I was going to die, I was dangerously dehydrated and needed to get my hands on some water IMMEDIATELY. Of course, still being 3/4 drunk and a galloping jack###, rather than just head to the bathroom sink.... or the vending machine in the hallway, I bolted out of the room, down the hall, into the elevator, and hit the button for the casino. As I got to the ground floor, I realized I had no shoes or socks on. So, I walked to the nearest bar to the elevators, barefoot, and asked the bartender for 3 bottles of water. He retrieved them, dropped them on the bar and asked for the $6 (or whatever they cost.) This was the exact moment that I realized that my wallet was in the room. With all my money, my credit cards, and my room key in it. As the realization that I couldn't pay for this water dawned on me, rather than admit my mistake and just ask for a glass of water, I instead opted to turn on my heels and run away from the bar at top speed. Looking back on the series of decisions made in this 5-minute span, I can only shake my head with chagrin. I ran back to the elevators (thank God you didn't need a room key back then to access the elevator bank,) jumped in and hit the button for our floor. Returning to the room, I had no way to get in and knew the 3 people I was sharing the suite with were asleep in the bedrooms with the doors closed. I started pounding on the door hoping to rouse someone, but to no avail. After about 5 minutes of beating on the door, I just gave up and slumped down in the hallway with my back to the door, figuring I would either try again in a few minutes or just sleep in the hallway until security arrived. I was still hammered, but the hangover was just beginning to set in and the dehydration was becoming troubling. I sat there for about 5 or 10 minutes when suddenly, the door opened up abruptly and I fell backwards into the room. Thanking the Old Gods and the New, I jumped up as I saw Beef holding the door open. Beef : "Sorry, I heard the knocking, but I couldn't answer the door, I was taking a dump." Literally, as he said this, I felt a rumbling in my bowels, as if on cue. EG : "My stomach doesn't doesn't feel right." Beef : "Mine either, maybe it was something we ate. Or the 10 million drinks..." Just then, I went from Defcon 4 to Defcon 2 and realized I needed the toilet even more urgently than I needed water. Again, I was thankful he opened the door when he did or I might have #### in the hallway or elevator trying to get back downstairs. As I ran to the bathroom, I heard Beef say : "Oh man, you're going in there? I busted that place up - sorry. I think it was the Kansas City steak and eggs..." I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door and was nearly choked by the stench. It remains, to this day, the worst-smelling dump I have encountered in 45 years on the planet. It was truly indescribable - so rank and so THICK, it was like the fecal cloud was hanging in the bathroom like the stifling humidity of a hot summer day in Florida. I sat down on the toilet just in time as my insides dumped about 2 gallons of liquid through my ### in about 30 seconds. It was Harry Dunne in Dumb & Dumber on steroids. I was holding my breath, trying not to catch wind of the new melange of #### stink that was being created in the bathroom when I accidentally let my guard down for a split second and breathed in through my nose. My stomach immediately flipped and I had just enough time to lean sideways and get the arc of vomit into the bathtub rather than all over the floor. My rump was continuing its assault unabated as well, and the balancing act was difficult to maintain. I could hear Beef laughing maniacally outside the door as the after-effects of his own expulsion were causing this nightmarish cacophony ringing through the suite from inside the bathroom. By now, Yams had also awakened and I could hear Beef apprising him of the events of the last 10 minutes as I continued to noisily expel fluid from both ends simultaneously. The two of these ##### are practically choking with laughter as I am literally choking in my own personal hell. Ultimately, everything subsides and I exit the bathroom and flop onto one of the beds, exhausted and near death. The two of them are still laughing, and at this moment, I realize that Yams is holding two ice cold liter bottles of Dasani. I beg him for one and he says : "F### you, get your own." I don't even have enough energy to explain to him in the moment that this is exactly what I was trying to do when everything went sideways - all I could eke out was "Please......" I must have hit just the right note of abject helplessness and desperation because, uncharacteristically, he gave me a bottle. I'm pretty sure I never drank a bottle of water faster in my life. We smoked a joint and as I started to finally drift back out of consciousness, I heard Yams say "Man, my stomach feels messed up too......." Then, the warm embrace of sleep came and I was out cold, until... "Dude, isn't your flight at 9:30?" I see Beef standing over me and glance over at the clock - it's 8:40. In a panic, I jump out of bed, head pounding, the taste of puke lingering, stomach still flailing about. Holy ####, I have 50 minutes until the plane takes off and I'm at Mandalay Bay. I grab the Ox, useless #### that he is, and tell him we have to leave NOW. Yams and Beef are flying back to Newark on a much later flight, so of course they're delighted watching us have to scramble around while they still have hours to rest and recover. We grab up our stuff in about 60 seconds and sprint out the door, down to the cab stand, and get a car to McCarran. We managed to talk our way to the front of the security line and sprinted to the gate, just as they were closing the door. I screamed "WAAAAIT !!" and managed to get them to stop just long enough that we made it onto the plane with seconds to spare. I got back to SLC and slept for 19 straight hours. Now, the story proper ends here, but there are a few postscripts to this one. I found out later that Yams actually got the stomach bug worse than Beef or I did, but it took a few more hours to manifest. Mr. Laughs spent that entire morning and afternoon praying for death as he vomited and #### alternately every 5 minutes. Beef had to call the desk and threaten to sue the hotel for giving us all food poisoning in order to secure a late checkout. By late afternoon, the Mandalay Bay finally vacated them and they had to sit in the sportsbook just a few feet from the nearest bathroom so he could run back and forth every ten minutes. He drank an entire bottle of Pepto and they managed to get on their plane, although he crapped, in his words, "about 358 times" between Las Vegas and Newark. I was at Mandalay Bay a few weeks ago and was in the book; I saw the bathroom right near there and pictured him sprinting back and forth 25 times. The Ox managed to avoid intestinal distress altogether. I saw a lot of the guys from the bachelor party the following weekend at Murray's wedding. They were all hailing me as some sort of conquering hero for my Jager chug in the hooker's face and the stories I told them (that you all of heard many of) at dinner. The night before the wedding, we were all partying in Park City, UT and I didn't pay for a single drink all night. Unfortunately, my buddy Dan (the Stone Cold lookalike from the other Vegas story) got himself a DUI driving back to SLC from Park City that night. The next day at the wedding, I must have gone through 20-25 drinks before the reception was even over. At the after-party in various rooms at the Stein-Eriksen Lodge, there were a few people talking about how many drinks I had plowed through the previous weekend. This prompted one of Murray's friends from NY, who wasn't at the bachelor party, to challenge me to a shot contest. Did I mention this guy was Samoan and weighed 450 pounds (literally)? Of course, because I am a GD idiot, I accepted the challenge and we went shot for shot on a bottle of Jim Beam, wiping the entire thing out in about 30 minutes. This was after a wedding reception. I blacked out at the end of this - the contest was called a draw - and left the room I was in to find my own so I could collapse. Apparently, I didn't quite achieve this. I don't recall even a split second of this, but evidently I passed out cold while walking and just face planted right outside the main doors into the lobby of this 5 star resort. This is not the type of place that sees this behavior frequently (http://www.steinlodge.com/) so they immediately called the police. The people I was sharing the suite with were dismayed to get a knock on the door at 2 AM and swing the door open to find your old pal EG, unconscious and slumped over, being CARRIED into the room by two uniformed police officers. It remains one of the 5 drunkest nights of my life. A few years later, I got a Facebook friend request from the girl I plugged in the bathroom on Friday. She's now married with kids and we still chat occasionally. A couple of years after this, I got a friend request from a girl I used to teach swimming to back in the early 90s at a day camp (RUSF18 also worked there.) She was a little kid at the time and one of my favorite students, just a doll of a kid. I was touched that she remembered my name all these years later and, now a grown up, looked to reconnect. I happily accepted her request and saw that we had 1 mutual friend. I figured she must have located one of the other counselors/instructors, so I clicked to see who it was. Would you believe the bathroom bang from Vegas? I met that woman in San Francisco and porked her in Las Vegas, to the best of my knowledge, she'd never been east of Nevada. Turns out, she's the aunt of this little girl I taught to swim in New Jersey, who to my knowledge, had never been west of the Tri-state area. Small world. Finally, a few years after the events of this story, I had moved to Florida and had been living here (and posting on these boards) for years. I'm sitting one night at Pat O'Brien's on Universal Citywalk with a couple of friends who had flown down for a weekend to hit the parks. We're swilling hurricanes and catching up, when all of a sudden, a woman taps me on the shoulder and says : "Excuse me, but where are you from?" I replied : "New Jersey. Why, are you a Jersey native too? Recognized the accent?" She says, "No.. you're not from Utah?" I replied : "Well, I lived in Utah for a couple of years, but now I live here in Orlando." She says : "Do you know Murray [Redacted]?" I replied : "YEAH ! Sure, I do, I just talked to him a couple weeks ago..." I get cut off by a man's voice from the next table. "I KNEW IT !!!!! You were at his bachelor party in Vegas !! I knew I recognized your voice ! You were the guy that chugged the Jager in the stripper's face ! (nice cover-up, dude, she was a hooker.)" Turns out that this guy was at the bachelor party (I didn't really recognize him initially) and had been telling people the stories I told them at the dinner table at Rumjungle for years. He was down there with his wife and 2 kids visiting Disney and Universal. He introduced me to his friends and took pictures of us together like I was some kind of celebrity. We talked for a few and then he headed out. My friends from up north at our table were suitably impressed... they asked what had happened that weekend that made me "famous." If they only knew. THE END
  39. 19 likes
    You're a good dad. You should have more kids.
  40. 19 likes
    Reminds me of the time so long ago, what a month, when Rok;'s friend the Chef was going to have Rok manage his new Restaurant/Coke distributorship. Some guy he had recently met was so impressed with Rok's ability to do a line that he was going to risk his reputation and capital on having Rok run his new company, that in spite of absolutely no experience doing so. Time to stop looking for others to validate your life. Time to put away fantasies and excuses. Past time to start working on yourself. Spend the money you spend self-medicating on real treatment. Take positive steps everyday, and build on them, one on top of another. But no, instead he is already in love with a woman he does not know. He will change his life. He will be Daddy to her son, another avenue already gone down what, two months ago. I hope he gets mad at me. I hope he decides to prove me wrong, to shut me up. I hope he motivates. I dare him to do so. I want him to have a career, not a job. I want him to find mental health even if the path to that is anger at me. I want him to have a healthy relationship, not one that is responsible for fixing him, put one he gets as a result of fixing himself. All it takes is hard work, giving up feeling sorry for himself. As for me commenting on your work ethic, working nearly full time, training new folks into the intricacies of serving tables, being assigned to busy shifts when everybody is assigned because, well its a busy shift, that shows me nothing. You want to show me something, show up sober. After your shift put your money in a bank instead of up your nose. Stop playing video games and angry music during your free time and do something positive, learn a new skill, volunteer somewhere, meet folks working towards a future instead of dwelling on your past, get outside yourself, frankly inside yourself is not all that interesting. Don't like the free advice, don't invite it by posting.
  41. 19 likes
    That moment when you can't tell the difference between hoping someone committed treason and hoping that if someone committed treason they get caught.
  42. 19 likes
    The bigger question is why isn't Hillary in jail for organizing all of this?
  43. 19 likes
    We literally have a plea copping to an attempt to collude with the Russian government (and to lying to FBI agents in an attempt to cover it up). Trump might not have known, but there can be no argument anymore that his campaign didn't try to collude with the Russian government. That's kind of significant, guys.
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  45. 19 likes
    Joy Reid wrecking fools. https://twitter.com/natashabertrand/status/924781562750820353
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    Marine Corp Marathon recap – 10/22/2017 6 yr old daughter when I got home – “Did you win?” Me – “Nope” Daughter – “Oh. Did you at least get 3rd??” Me – “No, I was 8,732nd overall. Daughter – “Whoa Dad.” Quick turnaround as I’m enjoying a day off of work like I’ve never enjoyed before. Walked to the river later and procured a sandwich and that's enough for today. I’m watching the local race coverage I recorded Sunday and it’s pretty cool to see. DC weather guy & runner just spoke prior to race start about the looming heat we would face. Heading in to this race I downplayed the impact of heat on the race given training in the summer. Lots of runners got served in the latter portions of the race including me. I knew it would happen but I hoped it would happen later in the race - I am humbled and encouraged the day after as I gain some perspective. Pre Race Got to DC from about an hour away and met up with my parents for dinner at 5 and was back chilling at hotel by about 8 – probably walked too far to dinner in hindsight. So stoked my folks came to celebrate the end of my dad’s treatment and to support me. Wife came with me and stayed in Georgetown and hung out with friends while I was in Arlington. Slept ok from around 10-330 which was about as good as I expected. Up and had some peanut butter mini bagels, coffee and all good on the stomach front. Was going to walk the 2 miles to the start but nabbed a 6am uber instead to save the steps. This is a huge race so the walk from where I was dropped to bag check was crazy far so another misstep. Took about 4 nervous wizzes and picked a bad spot for the last one as a policeman informed me – karma negative point as I told him ‘sorry sir, I had not started going’. So took care of that and got into the 4-415 corral with a goal of finishing ahead of that. Stood next to a small shivering woman and gave her my burner sweatshirt – karma half point earned back. Gun was delayed as bike assisted athletes needed more time to advance into the hilly first portion of the course. Howitzer blast off at 805 and I crossed the line about 5 mins later in a sea of humanity. Go Time I expected a slow, crowded start and planned for it to help hold me back for the first 5k. This was a mob for much longer than that unfortunately as the crowd and hilly first few miles bottled things up pretty gnarly. 1st 5k through Rosslyn – 9:54, 9:50, 9:38 - slower than plan but figured I had saved some energy as a result. Lots of short strides and bodies. Woman got tripped up and must have fallen hard as she was laid out when I passed by with medical on scene. 2nd 5k to Georgetown – 9:15, 9:04, 8:43 – things finally freed up in mile 5/6 and was feeling quite good. Hopeful as I got on pace finally but stressed a bit as I was trying to spot my fam and missed them on K Street. 3rd 5k Rock Creek Parkway – 9:18, 8:58, 8:34 – last nervous roadside pitstop in 7 then good stretch through the woods – fun so far through 9. 4th 5k back to Potomac Park – 8:35, 8:39, 8:29 – moving well along the Potomac – crowds are great and Blue Mile to remember fallen Marines is in this stretch. Very moving and powerful to see family members and pictures and flags lining the mile. OK here through 12 and still feeling strong/fueled. 5th 5k other side of Potomac Park loop – 8:44, 8:39, 8:41 – still moving well and emotions are ok and body is holding up fine. I knew the pain was coming but I didn’t know how soon. Spoiler alert – unfortunately it’s close now. *But first a short aside on the scene and the energy* The entire race is manned and womanned by Marines offering support, high fives, security, taking pictures, hugging those who want hugs. So impressive and a tremendous honor to be a part of the experience. Surrounded by heroes half my age, runners twice my age (age range from 14-87). Runners holding flags, countless tributes to service men and women on runner’s shirts, Marines in gear running in packs and boots. The pep talk the starter gave 2 minutes before the start is one of the most impactful things I’ve ever heard. The experience was special. *And now on to the aforementioned pain* 6th 5k into National Mall – 8:54, 9:24, 9:13 – I had taken water at most stops and had water & tailwind on my flipbelt. Some stingers as well. I was not underfueled based on prior experiences. But I was now officially in water stop to water stop mode as the pain was here and I struggled to decide whether my mind or body was to blame. ####, it’s both and they are taking turns. The legs felt relatively ok, no abnormal pain/discomfort but I coldn’t go faster. If I had pushed to hold pace I would have fully imploded. With more training I will get better at managing this but I was not ready to overcome and hold pace. I walked a water stop and gathered myself in the 17th mile but the wall I knew was out there was in my face. I hoped to hit it more like mile 22 – woops. On the bright side I was stoked to see my family somewhere in here and that was incredible! 7th 5k back side of National Mall and across 14 St Bridge – 9:28, 10:11, 9:53 – crowds are awesome and helping a lot. Walked the water stop at mile 19 and got a bit of burst back. Crowd is gone on the bridge in mile 21 and I was ####ed. Along the sides of the course there are a lot of people getting medical attention and stretchered. 8th 5k into Crystal City and back – 10:43, 12:00, 10:44 – crowds are back and I wish I was enjoying this stretch. I wanted to be strong and passing here but I was getting passed. ####. Walked water spots in 22 and near 24. Marine was filling bottles out of a hose at some point in this stretch and I filled up. I was smoked and crispy and dying to be done. Haven’t felt this way since my first half marathon in 2015 when I crashed and burned around mile 11. Since then I’ve learned a lot and improved that distance but this was uncharted. Finish miles 25 - 26.2 back to Marine Corp Iwo Jima monument – 10:30, 10:59, 9:57 – leave Crystal City area for a lonely 2.2 mile stretch away from the crowds - rounded a curve mid mile 25 as could see mile marker 26 in the distance. If that thing wasn’t huge and visible from considerable distance I would have probably slowed even more. And upon hitting that 26 mile marker the course designed by/for the Marines hits a quick turn and up a hill to the Iwo Jima monument. That hill was awesome and I am proud to have pounded up that thing. Crossed finish line is just under 4:13. Shook hands with about 8 Marines before I moved off to the side and leaned on fence to avoid going down. A kind marine woman asked if I was ok and didn’t believe me when I said I was. Took a few breaths and moved on so she could worry about other people crashing through the finish. Next was getting the finish medal from another Marine and then I took a seat. Roasted. Along the way I saw a number of people hit the deck, closest to me was on the bridge around mile 21 and I heard a dude say “oh man I’m crampingggggg” and down he went. Popped back up and moved aside by the time I could say “are you ok” so I kept going and a medical person was close by. Post Race Gathered myself and walked to find bag drop and family. Was awesome to find them. They had a great day together in the city and watching the race and the scene. This experience was a great one that will grow in my memory. The highlights were the disabled participants including a limbless gentleman who scoops along on a skateboard, the gentleman who has run all 42 runnings of the race, the Marine support and the reverence of the entire event. Proud to be a finisher. We decided to walk back to Arlington so I shuffled along another mile or so and showered up before finding food. Takeaways I thought about this group plenty of times during the race and appreciate the support and shared insights and information. I thought a lot about my training and how prepared I thought I was. The advice provided here is gold and I can and will train much smarter for future races. This will absolutely not be my last marathon and I love having a benchmark to work with now. I knew as soon as I wrapped my training period that I ####ed up by not having a session of 4 hours on my feet. That would have helped my mind and body tremendously. Personal choice, I know, but for me that would be the one thing I changed over the cycle. The training and base I need to work on will need to be better supported by a stronger core/lower body/back. My abs are sore as #### right now and I am going to get my groin/adductor/lower abs checked out soon. Pretty much been the same since March with a nagging pull on the left side that doesn’t hurt while running but aches like a ##### the rest of the time. I’ll see how that goes and recover and maybe run a half in December at the beach where I run a lot to support the race. Then get some weight sessions to stick over the winter while keeping some moderate mileage (for me) going. Don’t know exactly what I’ll target for next year’s marathon(s) yet. Will probably not be Marine Corp again next year although I will try to qualify through the March 17k run I did this year that was awesome. If I do, I’ll probably defer entry to the next year as I want to target other fall marathon options next year – mainly smaller format of which there are plenty of options I want to take on as I progress. Looking forward to planning some stuff out and hopefully progressing. Will take this week off, maybe spin a bike later in the week. Thanks to all for the support and guidance, it means a lot.
  47. 18 likes
    Speaking of basketball teams, a year ago, Coop tried out for the 7th grade basketball team. He was cut. He was devastated. So he went back to work, playing in the driveway, playing with his friends, playing rec ball, watching basketball, working working working. He wanted to try out again for the 8th grade team. Nearly 40 kids tried out with only 19 spots up for grabs. 3 days of try-outs, all organized by the varsity coach and his staff. He made the B Team. When I told him, you would have thought he made the Olympic team. Course, now our weekends will be spent traveling near and far to watch him play games and the cost to play isn't insignificant. But I'm really proud of him. We're coming up on his 2 year anniversary of his Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis and he's not let it slow him down at all. Now if he would just exert this sort of effort into his school work.....
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    Not exactly sure what "bro culture" is exactly, but this is having zero impact on my life. I treat women with respect, but see no reason why I can't joke around with my guy friends like I always have. My sense of humor is a lot of really extreme, graphic, shock-value type stuff but people who really know me know it's shtick. And with my wife, it's always been a 50/50 deal based on mutual respect and accountability. Nothing has changed on that front. I don't ever see her taking an opportunity like this to start trying to ##### whip me and I think she knows it wouldn't work anyway. If you're an honorable man there's no reason to feel threatened in any way by this stuff. These are all positive developments imo. Women have been getting shat on forever, and we were delusional to think things were significantly better now than 20 or 30 years ago.
  49. 18 likes
    Clinton colluded with Russia by having a campaign that hired a law firm that hired an American company that hired a British citizen to gather information in part by interviewing Russian citizens? If that’s what you mean, I genuinely love the fact that it was preceded by telling someone else to watch his wording.
  50. 18 likes
    Thank you for posting this. I think it’s highly representative of many conservatives who voted for Trump, and continue to support him as President, not because of any specific policy, but primarily to troll liberals. That seems to be the number one motivation, and I appreciate that you were willing to admit it.