I knew the way to San Jose

There's probably a few more San Francisco stories left to tell but I'm on the road south now.

I spent a few days staying with Aubin in San Jose. Aubin was a true gent and let me sleep on his couch for three days and borrow his legendary Star Wars blanket. He took me out for sushi which was wonderful. I've never much been a man for sushi - but maybe I've been converted? I also tried a California Roll which is all the ingredients for sushi but just put together in the wrong order. Probably a work experience kid did it by accident and began a culinary phenomenon. Who knows?!

We went to see the Batman film which I enjoyed a lot, despite being pretty cynical about it beforehand. Of course, I especially loved the scenes with Michael Caine in.

I also met Valerie, a super cool goth girl who lives in nearby Campbell with very cute pet house bunnies. Some people may know that I've never been a huge fan of Bauhaus, but Valerie played me Pete Murphy (singer of Bauhaus)'s greatest hits and shockingly I quite enjoyed it! So I shall have to download myself a copy and see if I am really going crazy.

Aubin and I also went to a sports bar. After getting chatting about footy to the Mexican bartender, he switched the channel to Gol TV to watch some football and what a discovery we were about to make. Languishing on this obscure satellite channel is one of the greatest commentators I've ever heard - Ray Hudson.

Ray is what can only be described as a Geordie gibberish machine. Equal parts Sid Waddell, Lawro and Big Ron - His in game commentary and analysis repeatedly had me laughing out loud and spitting beer everywhere.

Here's some choice Hudson quotes:
"He's like a squirrel on a telephone wire"
"He's got class coming out of his earholes
"Tears like pineapple chunks
"He's braver than a matador in high heels and a pink tutu
And when Luca Toni scored - "And it's not hasta la vista, it's hasta la pasta"

Watch some classic Ray Hudson

The man is clearly a genius.

Comments

Austrian scumbags

I close my eyes. The aroma of cheap hair gel and cigar smoke fills my nostrils. I feel my face being scrutinised. I hear the familiar click clack of poker chips, the drag of a cigarette and then the exhale. Did he just breathe his cigarette smoke on me on purpose? I pull the brim of my hat to cover my eyes further, try to remain still and control my breathing. My opponent is clearly frustrated and I know he is probably going to fold. I want him to fold. I try not to do anything, even to move. I don’t want to give him any ideas about making a hero call . Eventually, after a painfully long time, he folds. *** I had heard the poker games in Vienna were good, so had travelled to the Austrian capital to investigate. A nine hour train ride with Swedish backpackers later and I was in the suburbs of the Austrian capital. The Montesino Card Club is located in a very odd leisure complex, the centre piece of which is four large gas cylinders which have been decommissioned and converted for modern...

Naked flush draw

I was in Austria. It was winter. The time was after midnight. I had busted the main event of a large poker festival. It had been close to the bubble in a hand where I had got it in good and been outdrawn on the river. I had invested the maximum time and emotional energy for no financial reward. I wasn't in a great frame of mind. The walk back to my accommodation took around 15 minutes. I remember it was snowing and that I had inappropriate footwear. My room was cheap and quiet, ideal for my needs. But there was a caveat to consider that I had half forgotten. When travelling for poker I often book someone's spare room instead of a whole apartment as it works out more affordable and I am hardly ever there. This time my host was a jovial guy in his 50s. He was awake when I got home and greeted me in the lounge with a friendly hello. I'd already been there three days but he took this moment to decide to ask me about life as a professional poker player. He asked all of the q...

Casa de Scaffolding

Portugal is one of my favourite travel and poker destinations, but I have a terrible record of booking accommodation there. During the first time I had played beach volleyball, I received a recommendation of somewhere to stay in Lisbon. Firstly let me say, don't play beach volleyball. It really hurts your hands and you get sand in your face a lot. On my ill adjudged foray into this sandy and painful game, I got talking to my team mate and mentioned I was about to go to Lisbon. "I know a great place to stay" she assured me. We chatted further between points and as I had no writing device to hand, I made a mental note of the B&B she strongly urged me to stay in Lisbon - Casa de Hospedes . It sounded great and just up my street. A couple of days later, with the trip approaching, I still hadn't booked anything. I remembered the beach volleyball tip. A quick google and it popped up straight away. I had a personal recommendation and it was very reasonably priced so ...

This Bogus Poetry

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