Anticipation

It’s funny how as we age, different things in our lives take on an ever changing significance. When I was in the sixth grade, the most important thing in my life was whether or not I was going to get the Air Jordans I wanted that would surely rocket me to popularity, fame, and fortune (I didn’t get them). It seems silly thinking back on it, but not that silly, because I’m still a shoe freak, only now it’s not for the fame or fortune my footwear could potentially bring, I’m simply neurotic.

OK, given the fact hat I’m still a freak for shoes, perhaps that’s not a good example since I own more pairs than my wife. (Did I just inadvertently let slip another secret shame?)

Birthdays and Christmas, those were always significant. When you’re growing up you plan your entire existence around them. As you head through the middle of your life, they aren’t nearly the big deal they once were, for you or anyone else. Then, as you head towards life’s twilight, they begin to take on increasing significance again, because well, who knows how many more you’re going to have? I think I’ve hit the middle stages, because it took until yesterday to realize that I’m going to be turning 29 in Vegas. If I would have realized this earlier, I would have booked our trip to arrive on Thursday instead of Friday. Now, I’m kicking myself, but I have an idea: Everyone should buy me lots of presents to make up for my oversight. What? Ok, maybe you’re right; an idea that only benefits me isn’t really that great for you. What was I trying to say? Oh yes…this realization has reawakened a singularly wonderful anticipation that I thought was long gone. Something tells me I’m not going to easily forget number 29.

Gene and Daddy, if you happen to peruse this page, this is my exhortation to you to take Iggy up and come to Vegas, dammit!

Here is a flowery and all too lengthy itinerary for those who aren’t tired of reading such things yet:

Friday, June 2

7 AM—Begin freaking out that I’m going to forget to bring something important. Things I might also be freaking out about may include, but are not limited to, suddenly having the vocabulary files in my brain corrupted and being unable to form an intelligent sentence upon meeting everyone, arriving in Vegas to be greeted with the realization that during the plane ride some unspeakable monstrosity has grown out of my forehead rendering me unlookatable (see:hideous), or I have simply booked my trip a week early or late.

11 AM--- Arrive at the airport. Yeah, I’m one of those punctual early freaks, too. This will also allow me time to debate with the Gestapo **aherm, oops** TSA/Homeland Security personnel about the logic of banning lighters but allowing matches on the aircraft. If you don’t see me the entire weekend, it means I was a little too vigorous in my debate and am now vacationing in a room with no windows.

1:10 PM---Get pissed off at the passive aggressive schmucks that should be boarding with Group 3 who start crowding the line trying to get on early even though they have barely even begun boarding Group 1. It will be annoying because now I will be forced to make a soccer mom feel like an ass because she didn’t think anyone would call her out on her bullshit. I will then be even more annoyed that she doesn’t feel like an ass, she will still think this is perfectly OK and that she can’t believe I’m so rude. Fuck her, and her parachute pants and fanny pack.

1:45 PM--- Take off. I hope.

2:25 PM--- Arrive in Vegas, forget the rest of the world exists.

3:10 PM--- Arrive at the Golden Nugget, hope that the $20 under the credit card works some magic in getting us some sort of upgrade. To boost the magic, we will tastelessly make out and make sure everyone within 25 yards is aware that we are on our honeymoon.

3:25 PM--- Enter suite (I’m thinking positive), drop bags, and make a mental not to thank Pauly for the tipping tip. I always make sure to grease palms liberally when in Vegas, but for some reason I never considered doing it at the hotel desk.

4:15 PM--- Head out and peruse Freemont a bit, then off for the obligatory shopping.

8 PM--- Dinner at Elements in the Aladdin. I always like to have at least one outrageously expensive meal while in Vegas.

10 PM--- Grab helmet and mace. Storm Castle.

After this, God only knows……

Due to the schedule, I likely won’t make it to the Rio until/unless the bloggers reach the final table. And since I kept completely forgetting amidst all of the WPBT satellite brouhaha, here’s a shout out to Poker Nerd wishing him good cards and a strong bladder during Event #2, which he got into through Full Tilt (Bonus Code: HHead).

*sigh* Five more days. Must settle down. Don’t want anticipation to peak too early….

Early Twentysomething Follies

I have never passed out, puked, or fallen down in a bar. I’ve come close a couple of times in my early twenties, but it never happened. Now, I’m not sure if it counts as a bar, but it did happen once at a strip club in Vegas. As we edge ever closer to the auspicious blogger gathering, for some reason this one shameful incident is all I can think about. So, in an effort to exorcise the demons, I thought I would regale everyone with the story.

My first ever trip to Vegas came shortly after my 21^st birthday. We had just returned from Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia, and needless to say, I was more than overjoyed to be back in the land of plenty. In hindsight, I certainly wasn’t ready for the city of plenty.

I was more than pumped when we all arrived at the Casino Royale. Never let it be said that the military doesn’t put their people up in swanky places. What the hell, I guess it’s better than having to stay on base, eh? We had a ton of old-timers in my shop, and they couldn’t be more stereotypical. As soon as the bags were placed in the rooms it was time for some alcohol and nude ladies.

Honestly, I have never really been a fan of strip clubs. I can’t stand the idea of paying a (most of the time) subpar female an exorbitant sum of money to tease me with something that I cannot, in fact, actually get from her. I always felt my money was better spent at a club, where I could spend less than half that amount and likely get laid out of the deal, but I digress. Come to think of it, the only times I have been to any strip clubs were during TDY trips when I was in the military, either in Ft. Walton Beach or Vegas.

Even though I wasn’t naturally inclined to go, I wasn’t about to decline, lest I become a pariah in my workplace. I was just getting over that “new guy” hump and cementing a fairly high position within the social hierarchy of our shop. The place in question? Little Darlings. Not the best, but certainly not the worst strip club I’d ever poked my head into.

I’m not sure what the deal is these days but at that time, even though they didn’t sell alcohol inside, you could bring alcohol and the bouncers would keep it outside for you in their little podium. Pay the cover and you get a cup, which you could fill with the alcohol you brought and bring inside. Well, lo and behold, there was a Texaco across the street, they have alcohol! Let’s get some and then we’ll be back. My friend Jay and I ran over and began shopping.

Here’s the thing: Jay was a really cool guy, but also a bit insane and a bit of an alcoholic. He was seven or eight years older than me, but we got along well because he was a “G” from way back and I was a “G” from not so way back. The difference between us was that I was growing out of it, and I knew Jay never would. While perusing the vast (yes it’s true, VAST) alcohol selection offered by the Texaco, our eyes both spied something I wish to this day we wouldn’t have: Cisco.

(For those of you that are unfamiliar, Cisco is a fruity and syrupy alcohol consumed in mass quantities by idiot teenagers and winos. It is commonly referred to as “liquid crack”. It’s really cheap and will get you FUCKED UP.)

Jay and I each bought two bottles. Strike One.

Return to club. Commence drinking. We figured, “Hey, why fuck around with a stupid cup? We’ll just hang outside and swap gangsta adventure stories while we drink and then we’ll head inside.” After the first bottle the crackification began, and the idea of some nuded up chicks started to seem much more appealing.

Jay: “Hey, let’s hurry up and finish this second bottle and hurry up and get inside.”

Me: “Good idea, lets do this.”

We chugged what was left of our second bottles. Strike Two.

I proceeded to roll into the joint feelin’ fine, my game was tight. Heading over to the area of the club where everyone else was, I got a look from one of the waitresses. You know the look, the one where not a thing is said, but you know “It’s On”. The evening was shaping up wonderfully. After hanging out with everyone for a few minutes, a couple of the dancers came up to me wondering why I hadn’t talked to their girl yet. In the interest of keeping my game tight, I threw off some bullshit about how I was busy but would join her in a bit, which I did after giving it another 15 minutes or so. Yeah I know, I was a regular Don Juan. I chatted her up for a while, but the club got a small rush and she got busy having to attend to other patrons drinks. She promised she would be around later and we could make some plans since she got off at 2. Nice.

Wandering back over to our group I found that someone had ordered a pizza and that sunuvabitch looked awesome. I can still taste it to this day, tons of meat and jalapenos, absolutely delicious (isn’t it strange the stuff we remember?).

I had two big slices. Strike Motherfuckin’ Three.

That pizza seemed to be just the thing that the Cisco was waiting for, because it proceeded to beat me around like a pimp, slappin’ a hoe. I could barely walk or speak. All I really remember is that time started moving really fast, and I had to throw up, so off to the restroom for me. After calling Ralph on the Big White Phone, the pizza started talking. It said, “You need to sit on the throne, NOW.” The pizza was talking sense, and I sat.

The next thing I remember is the supreme effort it took to raise my head. Someone was pounding on the stall door, it was my boss (who incidentally was an extremely cool guy) checking to make sure I was alright. I told him I was OK and headed back out. It was only after making it back to the group that I realized (because one of the guys told me) that I had been absent for nearly 90 minutes. O God, no wonder my legs were numb. For the record my power nap did nothing to dilute my shitfacedness, in fact it seemed worse than ever. It was, in fact, worse than ever, a fact confirmed when one of the guys who relayed the fact that while I was napping Jay had eaten an ashtray. No, I’m not kidding. He ate half of an ashtray.

No biggie though, I still have outs tonight! Where’s that waitress? Aaah, there she is, and I saunter over to resume our conversation, because as luck would have it, it was only 40 minutes or so till she got off. I wish I could tell you what I said during that conversation, but I can’t. My best friend Jonbo caught snippets and later told me it wasn’t pretty. My game had ceased to be tight, Mr. Cisco unraveled it completely. Needless to say, after that conversation the invitation from earlier was summarily withdrawn. Oops.

That was over seven years ago, thank God I’ve grown up a bit and learned from my mistakes. What’s the moral of my little story? Dunno. Perhaps the message is stay away from the Cisco. Maybe the message is to always remember to pace yourself. Like I said, I don’t really know. I just wanted to type out a story and get it out of my head. Aaaah, the freedom that comes with another expunged secret shame....

Every. Single. Hand.

Even though I haven’t played any poker for the last few weeks, I’ve still managed to learn something (or rather, had it reinforced) that I thought I’d share. Normally the Mrs. will sit and play a SnG or two on most evenings, a few of which I watch. Among many of the things that I’ve taken away from watching and trying to critique the play is this:

Every single hand matters. Every. Single. One.

Many of us who play in the low level monkey SnG’s (myself included) have a tendency to pay less than full attention during the first 3 levels of a tourney while the monkeys battle over insignificant blinds and knock each other out. I mean, why should we? What’s the point? Who wants to get beat out of a huge pot when the blinds are only 20/40?

What about those times when you had to let a pot go because you didn’t bet your 55 on a 238 board and a confirmed donkey overbets out at you, making folding the best decision because you no longer have the odds? Granted, you only spent T40 on the hand, but you missed out on a T160 pot that adds up pretty quick when you take a few of them. And the whole time that little voice in the back of your head knows you would have taken the pot down had you simply thrown a bet out there, but you weren’t sure about making the bet because you didn’t pay close enough attention on previous hands.

Most all of us have heard the theories about a butterfly flapping it’s wings in Brazil that ends up setting off a tornado in Texas (or some variation of this). Those few insignificant hands that we don’t pay attention to or misplay out of carelessness can make potentially huge differences in the later stages of a tournament. Those two or three pots that were pretty small (between T80 and T140) in the early stages could end up making all the difference while you get blinded waiting through cold cards. If you get beat out of a big pot it could save you an exit. I’m not necessarily saying you should be taking a ton of unnecessary risks and habitually make marginal plays in these early stages, but pay attention more than you normally would in the early stages and your almost guaranteed to find spots where you can take down a tiny pot here and there with little or no risk, instead of just letting it go.

No one can play absolutely perfect poker, but we can always try. And by trying just as hard in the early stages when it isn’t very convenient or fun just may be that necessary edge to get you the win you so richly deserve. Don’t let those donkeys take your ten bucks.

(Now if I can just follow my own advice, everything will be dandy)

(Oh yea, here is a funny link to do with that butterfly business I mentioned)

The many names of....

Since many were kind enough to comment on my blogger introduction question, I’ll just dispense with any mystery or formality.

Just call me Head, it’s the easiest and what many of my friends call me.

Or, you can call me by my Christian name, which happens to be Jeremiah.

Or, as I am called by my Islamic brothers, Jerebdullah Ali X.

Or, my Native American moniker, Head Like Planet.

More comfortable with alter egos? Super Vanilla Bear

My medieval name? Sir SwearsaLot (Sir EatsaLot will also be accepted)

Super hero name? Shit, I have no idea. (I wonder what my special power would be. Protecting the earth from the tyranny of bacon?)

Don’t really give a shit one way or the other? Then I’m just that one dude who types out some strange shit on his blog when he doesn’t want to do schoolwork and there’s nothing but crap on TV.

Pre-trip Musings

The Vegas posts are coming fast and furious now. Here, let me add yet another. The anticipation running throughout the household is now palatable. Here is about the only serious question I have regarding the upcoming degenerate extravaganza.

When meeting a fellow blogger for the first time, what is the proper way to introduce oneself?

Really it’s a nonsensical question, but it keeps popping into my head because I have an inordinate fear of fucking it all up.

As we get closer to the inevitable, I find it increasingly amusing to watch the reactions that various people have when we tell them about heading out to Vegas?

O Wow! Going to see some shows, do a bit of gambling, and relax for your bitrthday?

This usually prompts a ‘look’ betwixt the wife and I…

No, we’re going for three days of drinking, gambling, and little sleep with a bunch of other poker bloggers.

Huh? What’s that?

Here’s where I think about explaining, but then just say fuck it.

We’re gonna go get drunk and play poker with a bunch of other degenerates from the Internet that we’ve never actually met in person before.

Cue quizzical look. They have no idea anymore whether or not to think this is a cool thing.

Umm, great. Trips to Vegas are always fun, have a good time...[trails off]

Cue my own smug feeling that I’m about to meet a great group of folks with the higher concentration of smarts and cool than one is likely to find anywhere else. This morning I thought of what I imagine to be the best description of this auspicious occasion:

WPBT II: The drunkenness of Mardi Gras minus the pageantry but plus the hookers and other strange shit.

One last thing I wanted to throw out there. I am continually shocked to find that the WPBT does not have some sort of alcohol sponsor. Hell, it truly boggles the mind as to why they’re not lined up outside the building throwing money at all of us, but I digress. I was thinking that as a contingent, we should make it an official goal to have an official alcohol sponsor no later than WPBT IV: The Search for Clean Pants. What alcohol, though? Beer or Liquor? Guinness and SoCo? Maybe we should just get a casino to sponsor the contingent and then they could flex their casino muscles to bring in the other sponsors…

Bloggers, so hot right now. Bloggers.

A bit of explanation

Starting off, I got a heads up from Baz concerning the latest Lord Admiral Card Club Radio Show , where I actually got a mention! Thanks for letting me know, and huge HUGE thanks to Stackstown for the pimping. Getting mentioned is great and made me feel like a bit of an ass (which seems to be a near daily occurrence at some point or another) when I checked out my link list and saw that I had Stacks but not the podcast site linked up. I corrected this oversight post haste, and stuck you guys on the top of the list. I have the last five episodes downloaded but have simply not listened to them yet, so having it at the top will remind me to get on it lest I get too far behind. Plus, it’s just fun to listen to and deserves to be up there. One thing is odd, though, and I wonder if this happens to anyone else: Every time I listen to the show I find myself thinking something along the lines of “Holy shit these are real people!” Of course I know that all of the folks that I read are real, but actually hearing them makes it more so, somehow.

Again, many heartfelt thanks for the mention.

Some of you perhaps are wondering why there hasn’t been much in the way of poker talk present on these here pages recently, so I thought it might be appropriate to offer some sort of explanation, and leave the ‘2005: Banner year for getting knocked up’ post and other random shit for another day.

Yes, yes, I’m busy, this is not news, so is the rest of the planet. More specifically though, on top of all the busy B.S., I have found that for the last 2 ½ weeks I can’t seem to bring myself to sit down at a table. I’ll sit and watch Mrs. Head play a SnG or two, but even watching her hasn’t tempted me to play. Normally, when this occurs (as it has twice before over the last 18 months) I go play a bit of live poker in K.C. and it re-energizes my desire to play the game. I would have already done this, but we’re so damn close to Vegas I figure I’ll just wait until then.

I debate nearly every day on whether or not I should sit, if for no other reason than to try and keep my game as sharp as possible, but I always come up with a “no”. I will get in a few sessions before we leave, plus I plan on going through SSHE (yet again), but by and large sitting down without bringing my best game and having my head in it will do more harm than good. This is especially important given the fact that my online bankroll is only around $1100 after dropping $400 or so on more toys, which is a nice segue into the other reason I haven’t played for the last couple of weeks….

I have become re-obsessed with video games and all things related. Granted, I have been obsessed with video games to varying degrees since I was about 7 years old and there have always been peaks and valleys with the obsession, but right now I seem to be peaking again. More specifically, I recently bought a Nintendo DS and have been playing the hell out of it, replaying a lot of my GBA games which look great on it (I think this has something to do with the brightness of the screen, but I digress), and playing a bunch of new Xbox games I have recently acquired, including Jade Empire, which is a kick-ass game. If you like RPG’s at all, you can pick up nearly anything from BioWare and it will be great. They are one of the best RPG development houses out there and Jade Empire is simply another in a long line of great titles. Also, as if you fellow video game lovers out there didn’t already know, this week is E3, so a lot of spare minutes here and there have been spent hopping over to GameSpot to get the latest. If you don’t know what E3 is, it’s like I told the Mrs. last night: E3 is like a week long super bowl for gamers, where all of the biggest companies present the newest and coolest stuff they’re working on, tell a bunch of lies, get us all hepped up, and then rarely live up to the expectations that they’ve fostered. Nevertheless, it’s tons of fun and always finds me being a sucker.

So, there you have it. I do have some actual poker posts in the pipe, I just need a bit more time to let my thoughts gel on the various subjects I have been pondering concerning the game. So, even though I haven’t been playing, I still think about it every day and I am continually getting tons of poker goodness from the other great bloggers out there. You all continue to help me keep my game as sharp as can be without actually playing, so thanks for that and thanks again for stopping by. Now I have to get back to my steaming pile of work and school whilst I try to ignore the Vegas anticipation that is near to killing me :)

The incredible shrinking days of our lives

I can’t believe I actually snatched a few minutes to write up a quick post. It’s definitely true when they say there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I’ve tried to take a more Zen approach and simplify a bit, but it’s like a bald, slightly tubby Hercules battling the Hydra. I “simplify” one thing, and several more non-optional things spring up in its place. This must be the wrong career field to try and go the simple route, meh.

Of the three times in my life that I’ve been to see a psychic, all of them told me that I was a slave in a former life. I find this odd for several reasons, the first being that all three said the same thing. Perhaps it is part of a psychic script they all use. The second thing I find odd is the fact that I also seem to be a slave in this lifetime, albeit one with a white collar (or if I’m feeling frisky, cornflower blue). Looks like I’ve still got some more shit to work out on the karma wheel, but hey, it explains a lot about my violent reaction to overbearing and unreasonable authority.

Not really sure why I felt compelled to share that, but there ya go. Oh, and should you think I am a supernatural, New-Agey looney toons type, I only take about 5% of all the psychic stuff seriously. (Why 5%? I try to never totally discount something, even if it is likely to be completely ludicrous. Well, unless you’re counting the people who say that poker is all luck and no skill, or Orrin Hatch. I totally discount those).

Well, I was gonna write more, but time is up. More tomorrow on how 2005 seems to be turning out to be a banner year for getting knocked up. (No, Mrs. Head is not pregnant, perish the thought)

Just some stuff

Goddamn I’ve been way out of it for the last couple of days. So out of it, in fact, that I completely spaced the final WPBT WSOP satellite. My bad. I guess in a sense it’s a good thing considering the way a certain badass motherfuckin’ card player was mowing folks down on the way to the top spot. AlCanSeetheFuture indeed.

I have come to the conclusion that nearly every single person in my town is lost. Sure they live here, but they have no idea where they’re going. Three separate times yesterday, someone came to near full stop so they could get over into the lane that they needed at the last minute, and one of those time was on the fuckin’ highway! I really need to find a way to get a hold of some ‘fuck you’ money so I can ram these people when it suits me. I think some of them just get into there car and drive simply out of habit, going twenty and deciding at the last moment that they have to turn in the most inconvenient spot.

So here’s my safety tip for the day: If you fuck up and miss your turn or exit, just keep going to the next one. This way, you and everyone else will go on living, and my head won’t explode. Seriously, these people are going to be the death of me.

With Vegas sooooooooooo damn close now, has the idea of Storming the Castle made any progress, or is everyone going to be hanging at the Rio watching our folks?

I also have a tentative bounty to offer, but I haven’t decided if it is it. I’m thinking I will offer a copy of one of my favorite CD’s. Tenacious D. No, not the rock one that came out a while ago, that one was pretty lame for the most part. This is all of the notable audio from all the Tenacious D episodes along with all of their songs done acoustic, the way they were meant to be.

In search of the Sasquatch, that was a kick ass in search of…..

D'oh! Sunuva...

Fun stuff to talk about, here we go…

Per BG and Al’s email extravaganza yesterday:

Most Likely To See The Grand Canyon - When you book your wife as your traveling companion to Vegas there Head, you should know damn well you're either going to be seeing the Hoover Dam on Friday with G- and Mrs. Rob, or holding shopping bags while your wife claps with giddy glee when AnimatronicZeus makes a proclimation welcoming you to your personal hell at the entrance to the Forum Shops. Good luck with that, maybe we'll get to see you when we go to Vegas in December.

While not quite right on the head of the proverbial nail, it was definitely a glancing blow and not a complete miss by any means. But I must take this small opportunity to defend the degenerate honor of the lady. Let’s see, first off. not booking Mrs. Head as a traveling companion will 99.5% of the time not be an option, and honestly, I really wouldn’t have it any other way. Why? The idea of taking a trip to Hoover Dam or the Grand Canyon makes her throw up in her mouth a little bit, that’s just my kind of lady. Besides, seeing those landmarks is what Discovery HD theater is for.

However, the nail was partially struck on one part of the above statement….shopping. Thankfully, the Mrs. fully realizes the intent and purpose of this trip and is only holding me to a trip through Sephora, which will be completed shortly after arrival so as not to interfere with the attendant festivities and force me into any heavy pimphandedness. She would like me to relate that she is quite looking forward to meeting everyone, including those she counts among her favorites, BG and Al. At this very moment all 102 lbs. of her is preparing to rip it up, blogger stylie yo.

And now, on to the secret shames…

Why I feel compelled to reciprocate secret shames is beyond me, but here I am, nonetheless. You would think that typing it out would be an easier thing than speaking it, but it’s really not. My hands are shaking a bit as I prepare, like some kind of lemming, to jump off the proverbial ledge…

Yesterdaywhile on the way to work there was a new BackStreet Boys song on the radio…..(deep breath)….and I didn’t immediately change the station. In fact, (oh god, it’s like an unpreventable train wreck) I found myself singing along with it. Unintentionally, of course.

For what it’s worth, upon my realization of doing this, I tried to throw myself from my vehicle while travelling 80 mph. Thanks to seat belt laws and the fact that there was no stewardess (or similar) available to show me how to work the buckle, this didn’t happen.

Sure, there are more shames lurking around in my life, but this one was particularly odious and difficult to lay bare, so I’ll continue later. Plus, since I have a few free hours I must ponder a suitable Vegas tournament bounty (excuses, excuses).

Have a great weekend, only a few more to go!

Scotch Questions

So, let me start out with a confession. Given the comments from scotch drinking notables like Chris, Mourn, and Gracie, I am obviously using entirely too much water. What can I say, I’m a rank amateur, with approximately a 1/3 water to 2/3 scotch mix. Here’s what I wonder: When taken neat there is the attendant bite and or slight burn on the palette, which is good sometimes (especially during cold weather conditions), but when toned down with water (hence no burn) does it really dilute the flavor that much that it makes a difference? On a scale of 1 to 10, how egregious is my scotch drinking crime? If I insist on using water and not drinking it neat, should I scale down a level from Glenlivet and others on or above its level until I gain a finer appreciation? I know it took me a while to really appreciate the finer vodkas and cognacs, so I expect that this won’t be any different.

Discussing liquor is fun. (Especially if there’s no poker to discuss)

Scotchy scotch scotch

I gotta get more on top of things, Wil beat me to the punch (as though anyone would have noticed if I had posted the link first, lol). I was going to link to the same article when I happened upon it yesterday, but I figured what the hey, it will be a good something for tomorrow since I’m not playing any poker at the moment. I promise I won’t go batshit about it here on these pages (at least for now, consider yourself warned), but pop on over and give it a read if for no other reason than to be aware of the situation.

If anyone gives a rats ass, here is my summary opinion of the latest goings on: We’re going to hell in a handbasket, one paragraph of bad laws at a time, and boy it’s really starting to add up to a crushing weight of bullshit. And seriously, I’m not saying that with any particular political party in mind, I think both are equally to blame. (OK, that’s not entirely true. I do think one is to blame more than the other, but not enough to make it worth focusing on)

Democrat or Republican, Liberal or Conservative, tree-hugger or tree-killer, I think we should all be extremely concerned.

Now, on to more pleasant things…..

I have discovered the wonders of Scotch. Glenlivet, to be more specific. It is the first bottle of Scotch I have ever purchased. You’re probably asking, “Why the heck did it take you so long?” I don’t really know. I only know that at the liquor store this weekend, I recalled many a post from other notable bloggers about their scotch consumption. Plus, the fancy bottles called to me with exhortations that I needed to partake in a more “adult” libation.

Fast forward four hours…..

I’m on my umpteenth scotch and water when I decide to take a gander at the bottle and find that it’s over half gone. Oops. I’m very drunk but strangely enough, quite lucid. I could get used to this. Scotchy scotch scotch, I love scotch. Given my drink of choice is normally a nice vodka or cognac, this is a big change, but one that I think will incorporate quite nicely.

However, my liver is frightened once again at fast approaching bend in the road. The Minister of Debauchery has planned a tournament after party in Vegas, and the venue will have forty different tequilas. After much consideration, all I can say is this…

[ HandiMan voice] Uh-oh! Sounds like trouble! [/HandiMan voice]

(If you don’t know or remember who HandiMan is, please refer back to the In Living Color archives)

Truly, it's one long session.

Go Wil. I was going to go on a long winded and emotional rant about this issue, but he says it better than I likely would have. Give it a read and become properly outraged. I’ve written so many damn letters to my reps my hand is turning into a claw and I’m near to joining the who gives a shit nothing is going to ever get done or improve ranks. Common sense is so yesterday.

The above is, of course, pretty illuminating as to the state of mind I happen to be in at the moment. My situation at work for the last 10 days has me feeling like I’m sitting at the table with a bunch of mediocre colluders and I’m holding middle pair with a weak kicker. The situation sucks and it pisses me off to no end, but for now I’ve got to lay down my hand and pick a better spot to defend. I want to stop the colluders at my table, but they go way back with the manager who isn’t going to kick them out of the poker room for any reason short of raping a small furry woodland creature directly in front of the general public. My hand is likely best at this point, but with two more to come I could easily get drawn out on and lose my entire stack. It sucks but I’ve got to beat my ego into submission and pick a spot where I’m more likely to take down the pot.

Poker is not only a great game. Using lessons learned at the table to cope with ludicrous amounts of workplace bullshit also makes it a great teacher when your righteous indignation is prompting you to do something that is, in the larger scheme of things, rash and unnecessary. So here’s the Thinking Big reminder of the day: It’s all one long session, and not just at the tables.

I've got nuthin'

I don’t have much to post today since I’m still mired in a heated battle and must concentrate on my corporate-fu, so stop by and read My Little Poker Blog’s kick ass post.

Serenity Now!

The next WPBT satellite is next Wednesday, go check out Iggy for the details. And wouldn’t ya know it? This one counts for leaderboard points and I can’t play. What on earth could make me miss? School. Goddamnit.

Holy poop on stick, Mr. Hat. I can’t wait till this week is behind me.

To say that this week hasn’t really been very good would be akin to saying that Fat Joe wasn’t really all that fat. I’ve been feeling the corporate pain. Big Time. Not quite ScurvyDog bad, but damn close.

For anyone who escaped and may be pondering a return to corporate life, please heed the entreaty of someone still mired in it: DON’T.

I would go into detail, but it’s exhausting, and I’m quite sure none of you all need or want to hear about it. Needless to say, I’m so worked up from this week that I don’t dare play a single hand of poker lest I end up taking out my frustration on an undeserving machine.

I see lot’s of drinks in my very near future. Vegas can’t come soon enough.

Notable Nugget

“Cards are merely the tools for manipulating money”
--Iggy

The above quote contributed to another ‘click’ moment. I had never heard put quite that way before, but let me say that it gave me a completely new perspective on this oftentimes infuriating game. Only time will tell, but that tiny statement may be the most important thing I have read about poker in quite some time. Why? As you can read just about anywhere, a HUGE part of this game is emotional control. To play great you need to exercise cold logic, be utterly rational, and not allow those pesky and swingy emotions to take over.

Of course, it’s easier to type about than to actually put into practice. With consistent play, such things become easier many times. However, when you play as little as I do (especially lately), emotional control (which=good play most often) can be lacking if one or more of the few sessions played turns out bad. At least in my case, this will many times lead to blaming luck, not catching a break, etc., when the simple fact is I haven’t used my tools correctly.

Granted, luck and randomness and all that DO play a part in this game. That said, let me say that the above tiny sentence merely helped shove the luck, etc., further onto the backburner, where it rightfully should be. When I sit down with my chips, I am the manipulator, the onus is on me. If I lose, more often than not it’s because I haven’t used my tools to manipulate things correctly within the current conditions of the game. The cards don’t use me, I use them, and I think on some subconscious level I had been thinking just the opposite, hence the emotional control breakdowns. If I choose to use a mediocre tool to try and manipulate things, I may or may not get the job done, but being a manipulator means that I can only blame myself, and being upset with myself is much easier to handle and correct than being upset at the cards and how they happened to run at a particular moment. After all, I can correct the way in which I handle the tools I’m given in a particular session, but the cards are how they are (or, if you speak jive, they is how they is).

But what about the chips? Aren’t those tools, as well? In my humble opinion, sort of, but I think that they play the role of augmenting your tools (cards) more than anything else. Perhaps using a gamer analogy will help make more sense, since I fear I’m not being completely clear. Let’s use a role-playing example. The character in question has a weapon/tool (the cards), and the effectiveness of it will many times be determined by the strength with which it is wielded. The chips are the strength that augments the use of your weapon/tool (the cards). If your weapon/tool is sub par, you can wield it with all of the strength (chips) at your disposal, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you will beat into submission whatever is in front of you. In fact, if your weapon/tool is weak, worn, small (insert favorite euphemistic adjective here), you will likely only ding your adversary in a couple of spots before being crushed by the bigger, badder, and stronger weapon/tool.

Well, hopefully the above nerdy example helped clear the waters instead of further muddying them. I guess what I’m most trying to say is this: Take Iggy’s words and think about them, I mean REALLY think about them. Properly internalized, I think they go along way towards keeping detrimental emotions in the background where they should be and elevating your personal game.

Dirty Joke Day

Since I am short on time (which loosely translated, is also code for short on content) today, I thought a joke might be nice.

Warning for Puritans: THIS IS NOT A CLEAN JOKE.

Nearing the end of her freshman year in high school, Jane is surprised one day when the coolest senior in the whole school suddenly comes out of nowhere and asks here to go to the prom with him. Jane is completely bowled over, and is so excited she’s about to burst. Full of joy, she runs home to share the news.

“Dad! The coolest guy in the whole school just asked me to the prom, can I go?”

“Sure, but you have to blow me”

“What?”

“I said you can go if you blow me.”

“Disgusting! NO!”

So, spiraling into the depths of freshman despair and crying her eyes out, she runs upstairs and locks herself in her room. After a couple of hours worth of crying, she starts to think…

Well, it might not be so bad. I can just forget about it after it’s done, and then I can go to the prom. It will be worth it, I mean after all, he IS the coolest guy in the whole school.

Heading back downstairs she says, “OK, I’ll do it.”

Dad stands up and whips it out. “Alright, go to it.”

So Jane goes to work, but after about thirty seconds, she stops.

“Jesus, Dad, your dick tastes like shit!”

“Yeah, your brother wanted to go to the prom, too.”

Hee hee! Disturbing AND funny. Remember, I don’t do it for the money, I do it all for you guys. Back tomorrow.

WPBT Satellite: The Second Coming

Typically, Sunday nights aren’t too much fun. For most of us it means only a few more hours till we head back to work for another week. However, this Sunday was a bright spot that brought a second chance WPBT event to get a seat with Bob and Otis in the $1500 WSOP Event #2.

When I got my seat, all I could utter was a silent “well, crap”. I had The Blogfather directly to my left. I don’t remember who else was at the first table, because I was moved pretty quickly. Out of the frying pan and into the fryer, my second table had The Good Doctor, DonkeyPuncher, Lefty, Rantsofayoungmind, and JoeSpeaker , all great players. Well, what the hell am I saying? I would have uttered the same “well, crap” regardless of who I sat with…after all, this was a blogger tournament.

I didn’t play very well, but I didn’t embarrass myself this time, either. I finished in 24^th which was hella better than my previous performances. Funny thing though, I lost with those goddamn Hilton Sisters…AGAIN. The Fat Guy whipped out his AK pimp hand and smacked those bitches down.

Playing against bloggers is difficult. Normally trolling the low limits as I do, thinking stays on the first level and that’s it. With these folks, your game better be at a higher than normal level if you’re gonna make a good showing because they are no punks.

Go see Pauly for a complete tourney write-up. Congratulations to ABVidale on the win!

So close to Vegas, yet so far….only four more weeks. I think they’re going to likely be the slowest four weeks since I was a little kid waiting for Christmas.

I’m still EXTREMELY busy, so there’s not so much time for Thinking Big. Other than the tourney last night, I haven’t played any poker for the last week, which sucks. I plan on getting some intense sessions in before we head for Vegas, but for the next couple weeks they’re going to be few and far between. Meh.

Cock!

I spent this last weekend watching the original BBC The Office, and boy oh boy was it better than its newest incarnation on NBC. I still tried to watch the NBC version last night in the hopes that I would still like it since it was “different”. No dice. The original is so far superior it’s difficult to put into words. It’s funnier, darker, and inevitably smarter than the current incarnation. I think I know why this version is so lame by comparison; it’s obvious that the writers on our US version have to censor themselves, whereas in the British version they didn’t (or, if/when they did, it wasn’t obvious). .

Stupid uptight network TV. Last night they did say ‘cock’ though, so it’s a step in the right direction, if only the smallest of baby steps. After all, if network TV got its panties out of its ass, what would happen to the children? Won’t someone please think of the children!

I know, I know. Why don’t I just stop watching NBC? Because NBC to me is like Bill Lambeer or Christian Laettner. I loved hating those guys, and I love hating NBC. Besides, since I’m spending all of my time working or studying at the moment (sprinkled liberally with blog posting and reading), bagging on them is something fun I can think about while slogging through the aforementioned drudgery.

Want more inane and wild theories? I’ve got’em. My newest hypothesis is that the McDonalds and Pizza Hut marketing heads must be related. I think the McD’s sibling must be the better of the two, because I can actually recall one or two McD’s commercials over my short lifetime that didn’t make me want to hurl. I cannot for the life of me EVER remember a Pizza Hut commercial that didn’t cause another small part of my soul to shrivel up and die. Here’s how I imagine the scene at a deep-thinking Pizza Hut marketing strategery meeting:

Hey Jim, we have this great new Pizza! Instead of being round, this one is..wait for it…SQUARE! AAAND, along with the sauce that’s on the pizza, we give people MORE sauce to dip it in! Is that genius or what?

Great job, Dick! How many toppings can they have?

Well Jim, Pizza Hut wants to be generous to their customers, so we’re giving them one topping, and get this…it will cover the WHOLE PIZZA.

Amazing, Dick, simply amazing. Where do you guys come up with this stuff?

Well, Jim, it’s a lot of hard work coupled with an undying commitment to giving the best value to our customers.

[nods of agreement and serious contemplation of a solemn duty move through the room]

So Ted, how are we going to market this?

Are you ready, Jim? Instead of our usual masterful promotion, we’re going with a two pronged marketing blitzkrieg. We’ll have a current star on the commercial, PLUS we’ll have a celebrity do the voice over!

Boy howdy, Ted! That’s fantastic! But who ever will we get?

We were thinking we’d get Jessica and Ashlee Simpson for the commercial, and have Queen Latifah do the voice over, Jim.

[murmurs and nod’s of assent. Ashlee Simpson, so hot right now. Ashlee Simpson.]

Why Queen Latifah, Ted?

Oh Jim, that should be obvious, but I guess that’s why I’m the marketing go to guy! [insert hearty corporate belly laugh here from all involved] We want Queen Latifah because she was in that movie Chicago, so white people know who she is now and like her. PLUS, she’s still got hip hop credentials from back in the day, so black people still like her as well.

Boy, you guys are really on the ball, Ted. Say, isn’t Queen Latifah in that new movie, ooh you know, the one with the taxi and that funny guy? I just think she’s great.

[more assenting nods and murmurs. Latifah, so hot right now. Latifah]

But, hey Ted? Won’t these people want to get paid a lot of money?

Well sure, Jim. But the cost we pass on to our customers will be negligible.

Any idea how much?

Well Jim, we plan on running a special. Get this. One medium one-topping (remember, it covers the WHOLE pizza) for $1014.99. But it doesn’t end there. You can buy an unlimited number of extra small size pizzas for only $249.99 each! (Terms and Conditions apply. See participating store for details.)

Nothing short of amazing, Ted. We are the Microsoft of Pizza. Hey I think I’ll pitch that to the board at the next country club meeting, they’ll really get a kick out of that….

[more nods and murmurs of assent]

{END SCENE)

That’s all I have for today. Meh, back to studying.

I'm Rick James, bitch!

After reading the flipchipro account of the WPT Championship final table, my action is clear. I must go to Vegas and study under Tuan Le, holder of the nth degree black belt in sucking out. I’m in no way implying the guy is a shitty player. To make it to the final table in one of these events is a feat unto itself, but this Championship news coupled with his recently aired win on television confirms that he has indeed communed with the Suckout Deities.

So when you’re down to the last of your chips and contemplating a “fuckit” all-in w/ that 8-3 off in EP, just put this in your memory banks as another shining example of being down but never truly out.

It’s like déjà vu all over again, get your tickets now:

WPBT WSOP Satellite Tournament
Poker Stars
May 1st, 7pm EST
$30 + 3 No-limit
One WSOP seat awarded for every 50 players

Here’s to hoping that I can join Bob in the WSOP fracas. Yeah, maybe I’ll enjoy going into work today, too. Prolly not gonna happen, but ya just never know.

I’ve lately found myself pondering many things about the upcoming WPBT event. We’re coming in the afternoon of the 2^nd and flying out on the 6^th, which effectively means that I have about 2.5 days to destroy myself. 60 Hours give or take. How will I stay awake the whole time? OK, I can’t, so I need to devise a strategy. Should I try to sleep in small shifts, or enlist some pharmaceutical help? For those of you who are more frequently degenerate, any suggestions and strategies are quite welcome (and I say “frequently degenerate” in the best possible sense, so please take no offense). Whatever strategy I devise, I fully expect it to crumble once Mrs. Head and I get caught up in the whirlwind.

What else am I pondering? Well, lots of stuff, but the thing that is in the forefront (and won’t leave) for the moment is this; IF I win a seat to the event, and IF I can muddle my way to a final table, and IF I can knock someone out on said televised final table…

And I hollered, “I’m Rick James, bitch!”, would Dave Chappelle try to sue me?

As you can see, I have been doing entirely too much TV watching and poker dreaming. Dreaming Big, but my head is still Much Bigger. Just look for the guy with the childish Bobby's World avatar who is misplaying his Hilton's, see you at the tourney!

Huge Junk = Huge Win

The tourney last night was great! All 15 minutes of it. Goddamn Hilton sisters. I felt better that Pauly and Maudie went out around the same time I did, but couldn’t shake the tainted feeling that exiting because of poor play inevitably leaves. So, while I watched the bloggers that were still alive, I entered in the $10+1 MTT, and proceeded to bust about 75 places short of the money. To say my play is less than stellar right now would be a gross understatement.

Bob bested the entire field to take the seat wielding his twice confirmed huge stack. He also just turned 29, so if you haven’t yet, stop by his site to congratulate him on his momentous week. I wonder if ESPN will air a bunch of drunks chanting “huge junk” when Bob goes all-in at the final table.