When I created this blog approximately a year ago, I entitled it, "Tales of Poker, Law and Degeneracy." My intention was to create a rudimentary narrative of my life, which consisted largely of work, playing poker, and debauchery -- e.g., frequent drunken weekends at casinos, college football road trips, baseball games, Jets games . . . et cetera. Indeed, over the past ten years, I've had more good times than a person should probably have in a lifetime. I've been to Vegas on countless occasions. Hell, last year alone I spent a full calendar month on the strip. I've put 30,000 miles on my car in the past year-and-a-half driving back and forth to Atlantic City, Jets games, and poker in Delaware. I've partied in New Orleans . . . tailgated in Baton Rouge . . . been to the Big House many times . . . I've followed the Mets from coast-to-coast - Los Angeles, San Diego, San Fran, Phoenix, Chicago, Denver, Miami, Atlanta, St Louis, Seattle. I've seen DMB thirty or so times in at least 8 cities (that I can recall). I've spent more weekends in Happy Valley than I can count on my fingers. I've bar-hopped in Buckhead, tore-up NYC, and gotten some of the finest lap dances the strip clubs of Montreal have to offer. You get the point . . . And, I intended this blog as a place to capture some of the debauchery going forward.
Well, there hasn't been much debauchery on this blog lately. Fact of the matter is, I basically lost the energy / motivation necessary to drink myself silly to the point I'd wake up in a cow field in State College, or get a ride back to the hotel in the back seat of a cop car (yes, both actually happened . . .). I'm 39. I blamed it on getting old. Seemed reasonable.
Recently, however, I felt more and more tired. Just generally fatigued . . . weak. Upon returning from my most recent trip to Vegas, in addition to tiredness, I began melting weight. I wasn't fat to begin with. But, in three short weeks, I lost nearly 15 pounds. And, I was up every hour, all night long, heading to the bathroom. And, I was constantly thirsty. WebMD said I had Diabetes. I made an appointment for a physical. Doctor agreed.
Diabetes? I thought you had to eat at Arby's; or drink a 2-liter of Mountain Dew everyday; or live in Kentucky. I'm not overweight. I exercise regularly. I don't drink soda. I eat mainly salads, grilled chicken and salmon, and sushi (except, of course, for weekends at the casinos where my diet is mainly beer, burgers and steaks). I've been to Kentucky a bunch of times, but only for work, and always just for a day or two (not enough to catch diabetes). So, what the fuck?
Certainly, diabetes is not the end of the world. I mean, it should be manageable. And, I can think of a dozen worse things right of the top of my head (including baldness and erectile dysfunction). Nevertheless, it's obviously cause for a lifestyle change. Indeed, this weekend, rather than heading up to AC, I spent most of my time figuring out how to test my blood sugar and cooking food that I can now actually eat. I did drive out to Charles Town Sunday morning to play a few hours of poker . . . sober. It's amazing the things you can pick up on at the table when you're not constantly looking for the cocktail waitress to order another round of Jack and diet.
The point is this: the party is apparently over. Some people say, "you don't need alcohol to have fun." I've always thought those people were stupid. I guess I'll find out who was right. But, one thing is for sure - this blog will no longer be about tales of degeneracy (although I reserve the right to whip out some old classic Pete P. Peters stories!)