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Posted by on Nov 5, 2012 in Blog, Personal | 4 comments

My Disgusting Relapse — 215 to 228

Nolan Dalla Running at The Lakes 2012

 

I’ve written extensively about my struggle to stay in shape.  Well — this past week was a very bad week.

Do you know how difficult it is to work out every single day of the week?  Can you picture the drudgery of hoofing five fucking miles — no matter how hot it is outside or how few hours you slept last night?  Well, I did it.  60 straight days last summer working the World Series of Poker from noon until 3 am every day — and I was up at 10 am every single morning to run in the 108-degree heat.  The sweat was like a baptism.

My diet plan worked.  In fact, it didn’t just work.  It kicked fucking ass.

Ten months ago, I started out as a 262-pound blob of laziness and worked it off one grueling step at a time.  Make no mistake.  I don’t like to run.  The pain was often intense.  I had plenty of excuses to skip days, but never did.  I had good reasons to cut my workout, but never took a shortcut.  I was determined to stick to the plan.  My idea — and it worked like magic – was to eat and drink myself silly, but then to work off every pound by pummeling the pavement five miles per day, seven days a week.  I’m not religious.  But if I have a belief, it is in the power of human willpower.  If I can do it, anyone can.

It’s no mistake that the very first blog post I wrote some four months ago was about running.  For me, it was a mental and physcial challenge to do someting I had never done and then stuck to it.  It was — a life transformation.

And so, I proudly reported that nine months after my workout ritual began — I managed to drop from 262 all the way down to 215.  That’s an astonishing 47 pounds, or about 17 percent of my total body mass.  Incredibly, I never missed a meal.  I never missed a drink.  I ate WHATEVER I WANTED.  I drank two cocktails and a bottle of wine a day — more when someone else was buying.  Warren Lush comes to mind.  I ran those meals and manhattans off and fucking loved living life.

Well, all journeys worth taking have bumpy roads and detours.  I’ve just taken one.  And now, I need to get back onto the highway.

It all started out five weeks ago when I worked two weeks at Bossier City, Louisiana.  A grueling schedule caused me to shorten my run route down to just two miles per day.  Then, it was off to France for ten more days and nights.  I drank and ate even more than normal in Cannes — while averaging just three miles per day, instead of five.  Next, my journey took me to Hammond-Gary, Indiana where the nauseating oil refineries and an exhausting schedule caused me to totally abandon my workout program for ten straight days.

So, according to my estimate — I have departed my ritual for 35 days.  I have run an estimated 100 less miles than would have been normal.

What do you think happened to my weight during this time?

As I stated previously, my low number was 215 pounts, which I proudly carried in early September.  Life was so good, I was eating quarts of Baskin-Robbins and washing it all down with Malbec.  Goddamn, what a statement of pride — 215 pounds, down from 262.

Upon my return from five weeks spent on the road, I stepped on the scale.  I feared the worst.  Like some kind of ashamed addict that had relapsed, I looked down over a jello-like gut.  The number was a kick in the groin.

228!

Fuck!

I gained 13 pounds in just over a month.

I have written about this before.  I could not give one flying assfuck about the number.  I have no numeric goal.  For me, the diet and the commitment to health is a statement.  It’s a demonstration of mind over matter.  It’s a personal conquest over the forces from within.  It’s showing everyone that might be watching that one need not sacrifice nor be denied of life’s greatest pleasures.  The answer is simply to work it all off with a dedicated ritual of running and exercise.

I had lost it all, or should I say, gained in all in one utterly detestable period of dishonor.

Fortunately, I’m now back to my ritual of running five miles — up the hills and through the searing heat.  Once again, I flip off the jackasses that drive in the right-hand lane oblivious to my struggle on the sidewalks, sreaming profanity at the lazy-ass motherfuckers in their speeding Benzes and BMWs who come within inches of ending my life with the indifferent arrogance.  My ankles are sore.  I have cramps in my thighs.  I was desperately out of breath.  But my will stays strong.  There’s nothing I look forward to more than the next trek around The Lakes, the next five mile circle.

I am back.  With a vengeance.  I am going to get rid of these 13 pounds..  And then more.

And after that, I’m eating a 16-ounce rib-eye and loaded backed potato.  Don’t bring me margarine.  I demand real butter.

I’m in the zone, and when I’m in the zone — it’s always happy hour.

 

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Posted by on Nov 2, 2012 in Blog, General Poker, Personal | 0 comments

2012 Poker Hall of Fame — Official Induction Ceremony

 

Just prior to the conclusion of this year’s World Series of Poker Main Event Championship, I had the great honor of introducing poker legend Crandell Addington, who accepted the Poker Hall of Fame trophy on behalf of his freind and colleague, the late Sailor Roberts.

Roberts, who won the 1975 world poker championship, was posthumously inducted into the Poker Hall of Fame “Class of 2012.”  The other inductee this year was Eric Drache.

The ceremony was held at the Rio Las Vegas.  The Poker Hall of Fame now has 44 members.  Congratulations to both Sailor Roberts and Eric Drache.

Photos are courtesy of Joe Giron and Joe Giron Photography (LINK)

 

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Posted by on Oct 11, 2012 in Blog, Personal | 2 comments

Pervert Alert — Unidentified Man Stalking Women’s Restroom

nolan-dalla-photo

 

This is a public service announcement.

Be on the lookout for a sick pervert in the habit of trolling women’s restrooms.

He was recently photographed on Thursday at noon in the tiny desert town of Shoshone, California at a Chevron gas station.  The perverted man appeared shocked just as he was caught in the act of leaving a women’s restroom.  Check out the look on his face.  This disgusting man is clearly guilty of immoral acts, and perhaps worse.

This man is a danger to society.  He remains at large and was last seen headed in the direction of Las Vegas.

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Posted by on Oct 11, 2012 in Blog, Personal, What's Left | 1 comment

How Is This Possible? Three Laptops Destroyed in Six Days!

 

Me and laptops don’t get along.

I average approximately three laptops per year.  What this means is — I somehow manage to lose or destroy about three laptops every 12 months.  Given those dismal odds, I started buying refurbished laptops a few years ago — which refers to discounted merchandise that went through hell and was returned to the store usually by some lying scumbag who pretty much did a war dance on the keyboard and then blamed the computer for suddenly “not working.”

Things got so bad for awhile, that I resorted to buying used laptops off of Craig’s List — which is really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.  I figure — why spend $795 paying retail at the store when you can fork over $250 for a used machine from some thief that will probably last just as long?

You’ve already read what happened to my new Acer while visiting France.  I bought that machine at Costco for $695.  It lasted only a month before some punk walked into my hotel and stole it.  Read the story here:  WHERE’S INSPECTOR CLOUSEAU WHEN YOU NEED HIM?

So this week, as soon as I got back home, I returned to Costco again and bought the same Acer model that had been pilfered in Cannes.

This one lasted a day.

Even worse, I somehow managed to destroy my backup HP mini-laptop — the one I use in case of emergencies.  You know, such as when something goes wrong with the primary laptop.

How this happened is a marvel not to be believed.  Here it goes:

Wednesday afternoon I was busy installing files onto both laptops — the new 16-inch Acer and the older 12-inch HP.  The laptops were plugged into the wall and sat on the floor beneath my office desk.

Marieta usually makes me a tumbler full of some kind of cocktail during the late afternoon.  The tumbler is actually a stainless steel mixer that’s commonly used as a shaker by bartenders.  At home, I prefer my cocktails served in a giant tumbler which stays colder longer because its made of metal rather than glass.

I have absolutely no idea how the following happened.  But we do own two cats — Alex and Faro — and they’re both now serious suspects.  I sat the 20-ounce tumbler down on top of the desk and walked away.  Meanwhile, the two computers beneath the desk were downloading new programs.

When I returned a few minutes later, I saw a horrifying sight.  The empty tumbler was laying on its side.  Liquid was spilled all over the desk and was dripping down onto the two laptops beneath.  The carpeting was SOAKED.  Both laptops were open and had a puddles of liquid and ice cubes all over both keyboards.

It was not a pretty sight.

No big deal, I thought.

I grabbed a towel and padded down both laptops, hoping to soak up what remained of what would have been a delicious Rum Runner.  To my amazement, the Acer keyboard no longer worked.  Worse, the HP showed a black screen.  After rebooting both laptops several times, I feared the worst — an accidental spill had wiped out not just one, but two laptops — one of them not even 24 hours new out of the box.

A hectic web search on my wife’s desktop (she usually forbids me to touch her computer, for some reason) found one possible fix — holding a hair dryer over the keyboard and blowing hot air into the motherboard.  Supposedly, this dries out the liquid trapped inside.  I tried that.  It didn’t work.

I allowed the laptops to rest and dry out overnight; but when both laptops were turned on this morning, the results were exactly the same.  The bottom line was — two laptops had been destroyed in my faux home happy hour.

The HP appears to be fried.  Ruined.  Gone.  Oh well — no big loss.  I bought that unit for $140 off Craig’s List a year ago.

But the Acer was more problematic.  I’m not exactly sure what the warranty says about spilling cocktails onto the keyboard and the liability thereof, but I decided to chance it and try and return the laptop to Costco, hoping for an exchange.  This afternoon, I returned the Acer with the keyboard that mysteriously no longer works, with no questions asked.  For those out there in the market for a refurbished laptop, you may want to avoid a silver Acer if you lean over the keyboard and get a heavy whiff of Bacardi.

So, for those keeping score — that’s four computers destroyed in 2012.  And, I still have nearly three months left to go.

What you’re reading now is my first post on a brand new Acer, bought (you guessed it) at Costco.  In a few minutes, Marieta will be bringing me a Tennessee Highball, encased in my beloved silver tumbler.

If you don’t see me updating my blog for the next few days, you can pretty much guess what happened.  And keep those cats out of the office.

 

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Posted by on Oct 5, 2012 in Blog, Personal, Travel, Video 1 | 0 comments

Nolan Dalla Interviewed in Cannes (France)

The following interview was conducted on September 30, 2012 in front of the Hotel La Majestic Barriere in Cannes, France.  Swedish writer and journalist Rikard Aberg is one of the game’s most inquisitive interviewers, as can be seen in this exchange.

I like Aberg’s style which is largely conversational.  He asks about several subjects — including health and fitness, goals and aspirations, Stu Ungar, and of course — the future of WSOP Europe.

These videos — of myself, Jennifer Tilly, Phil Hellmuth, Steve Dannenman, Brandon Cantu and others are posted at a Swedish-language site.  They will also be available at PokerTube shortly.

This video runs about 17 minutes.

 

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