For some reason, I thought my days were going to be much easier once the WSOP ended, but I was obviously just in denial. I keep thinking of these great ubber posts I want to do, but there really isn’t going to be ubber time until the Matusow book is completed – which is still some weeks away. And if I needed any motivation (or panic) on that front, I got it yesterday, when by total chance I found this. I nearly peed my pants.

So a lot of my life will continue to go on hold until that puppy is put to bed. I’m totally backlogged on my correspondence, so I suspect there are a ton of people that think I’ve run off with BJ to join the circus. But I swear I’ll catch up at some point. I’ll be going out to Vegas in early September to read over some chapters with Mike – but short of that, it’s just going to be crunch time. In light of my current reality, I think I’ll probably be spewing bloglets rather than ubber posts. Random spewage follows:

1. Bob Pasco, I’m going to be pretty pissed (and downright inconsolable) if you die on me. I know you didn’t tell me how sick you were because you were afraid I’d get all mushy on you. But Jesus Christ Bob, it’s me. When was I ever mushy? Instead of just threatening to come up there and kick your ass, I would have done it. And I would have sworn more, and I know how much you like that.

From the first time Bob and I met at IBM, we were destined to be friends; he was an underage curmudgeon and I was a bitch – and bemused cynicism was our bond. He likes to remind me that he was the one that came up with my band name “Guido and the Scum Puppies.” And I like to remember he was the one responsible for my ten smoke-free years. I still remember when he suggested we both quit smoking together. I was offering up some pretty lame excuses why I wanted to wait a few months. I think the strongest argument I came up with was that I liked smoking in the summertime and suggested fall would be better. He just gave me one of his classic looks of disdain – like I had just farted at a tea party. When we reconnected after many years, we laughed at how we had both mellowed. We pretended this was a terrible thing – that we had gotten soft over time. But secretly I was content to know that the man with such a capacity for happiness had found it. Because I guess that would have been the bigger tragedy. Crap Bob.

Note: Bob Pasco died September 1st. He lived just three hours past his 25th IBM service anniversary, which means his family gets his full retirement benefits. Atta boy Bob. Damn I’m gonna miss you.

2. On a happier news front, wildbill is tying the knot today. Best to you and Becky, the kid and the cat. I hope you and Becky realize that we pokerboyz will be judging the success of this union based solely on the wildone’s ability to make the next poker road trip. The pressure’s on. Photo of Bill and me back in 2006, when I actually saw daylight. Damn I need sun.

3. I do spend a brain-dead hour or two before I go to bed watching, but not listening, to the Olympics. Why don’t these commentators shut up? They must get paid by the word. I do like the fact that they are covering more sports than usual – even when the US isn’t involved. Although I did find my mind wandering at one point, speculating the success of an event that coupled synchronized diving and skeet shooting.

4. I’ve had little time for poker, but was able to squeak in some time to play Pauly’s 5th anniversary tourney. I swore I wouldn’t be bubble girl and pushed about three quarters into the event. Alas. But it was a great group, as always, and it felt great to be back on the virtual felt. And for those looking for some great reads, I just got caught up on the latest issue of Truckin’ and you really shouldn’t miss it this month.

5. Among the countless things I’m behind on, I feel most guilty about my blogroll. I promise to catch up on this front and in the mean time offer up I am THE James from one of my split-game partners in crime and Brass Umlauts from one of my investment partners in crime. Andy (of BU) is a fab writer who only recently started his blog, at my urging. He’ll probably rue the day as he’s already totally addicted.

The grind awaits – later.