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Vacation

I’m sure that plenty of you already noticed that I seem to be on extended break. The big question is how long will it last? I dunno. It may only be a couple of more weeks, but it could very well last until the WPBT gathering in December (it can’t come soon enough) it’s just hard to tell when it comes to something as intangible as creative juices.

I’ve also spent about the same amount of time not playing poker as I have not posting. Attempts at writing produce nothing but crap that I immediately loathe and delete.

So, until I get a bit less busy and get the other stuff worked out, feel free to put me in the languishing column as I have been a bad blogger and deserve it.

Be back as soon as I am able.

Turbo Trial Run

I’m still here! Don’t try to deny it, I know both readers were worried.

Today will be my last day doing inventory BS at work, for a little while anyway. After nearly two weeks of becoming intimately re-acquainted with all of the PC’s, Monitors, routers, switches, etc., etc. in my workplace and their attendant serial numbers, I’m very close to being fully extricated from the asset quagmire.

Remember the vomiting reaction to seeing violence in A Clockwork Orange? That’s me, just replace the violence with color-coded spreadsheets and watch me turn into a blubbering mess. Yeesh.

Thanks to an attack of insomnia last night I actually played a bit of poker. Things started out with the usual of nasty suckouts, so I decided to switch over per Mourn’s advice and mess around with a Turbo SnG for a change of pace. The one time I tried these before made me want to shoot myself, but this time I went in with a more realistic gambling perspective. This stuff is old hat for most/all of you, but damn, people playing like large-type small-brained mammals out of the gate. Call large pre-flop bets and push if you get any piece of it, crazy stuff. I lost about half of my stack with a nasty beat, got over-anxious and busted in 7^th. Not good.

I immediately jumped into another one, and of course immediately lost half of my stack when I had to lay down my top two pair to a river that put a 4^th spade on the board (my KJ had no spades, of course). This time, I actually adjusted. I didn’t get overanxious and ended up winning by capitalizing on the passive and scared play of my opponents when the blinds got big and we got close to the money. It’s relieving to be able to say that my game is not completely for shit.

I’ve got a tone of notes about things I need/want to write about, but they’ll have to wait. I’m kind of having the same difficulties as Maudie, due to my problem of work and other miscellaneous projects sucking down my life-force like 2-year old set loose in a vat of Koolaid. However, all of this has finally pushed me into doing something I’ve been meaning and needing to do for some time now….get back into the gym. I’m heading out Saturday to join and I think it will do a lot for my state of mind; I miss those endorphins.

I don’t look forward to the initial two weeks back, though, where I get to play the part of Fatty McGee getting used to the routine again.

I like the staaaaaaiiiiiiirrrrrrrsssss, eeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Tiny Whine

WCOOP 50 FPP qualifier last night, 39^th place out of 600, and I’m having mixed feelings about it. It’s the deepest I’ve made it into a tournament in some time and considering how sporadically I’ve been sidling up to the virtual tables as of late, I know that I shouldn’t be too unhappy because it’s not like my game is super sharp at the moment. But goddamn, when that variance whore is constantly striking you down even as a 4 to 1 favorite, it’s difficult not to turn into a fucking grumpy bastard about it. Let’s not even get into the coin flips.

Poker = That crazy unpredictable mood-swingy bitch that I can’t help but go back to time and time again. One of these days when I’m stronger, I’m going to leave her for good.

Oh, who am I kidding, she’s got a hammerlock on my ass. [/whine]

That’s it for today. Now I must return to asset inventory reconciliation, fun stuff. (Geez, just saying those 3 words makes me die a little inside)

I haven't ranted in a while. Guess what I'm doing today?

A new show with Anthony Bourdain called No Reservations aired last night on the Travel Channel, and true to his style it kicked much ass. If you missed it, make an effort to catch it when it inevitably re-airs so you can see him make fun of Rocco DiSpirito, it's priceless. The point of the episode was to demonstrate that France isn’t as bad as you would hear a lot of folks here in America tell it. Basically, you get to watch him donk his way through Paris for an hour talking to and about the people and places while he eats a lot of fantastic food and gets drunk. Last night he was drinking absinthe (which, after being on my “to-do” list for many years, still remains undone) and I was jealous.

He traveled to one of the meat markets (literal, no euphemisms today folks) to look at all of the wonderful wares for sale. While there, he ate breakfast with all of the workers. One might ask, “What do french meat market workers have for breakfast?” Everyone was eating rare roast beef on awesome looking baguettes with glasses of red wine.

Mouth watering. Getting jealous-er.

More great bread. Great coffee. More wonderful meats, cooked rare, of course..

All of the above were resplendent with various butters and creams; beautiful stuff.

“Why can’t you ever get good coffee like that here?’ asked Mrs. Head.

“Because we’ve turned into a society of loud-mouthed pansies” I pontificated loud-mouthedly in a pansified manner.

I’m not saying that you can’t get good coffee here in America. But you usually have to seek it out and pay through the nose for it. It’s the exception and not the rule. Order it at any random eating establishment you may go to, and more than likely it will be served in the form of useless light brown water. Not a huge deal though, right? Coffee is not something we’ve ever necessarily been nationally known for, so why am I talking about it? Because following this train of thoughr leads me to a more depressing destination.

As surely as I sit here ranting, everything surrounding us is becoming more and more vanilla-fied, and it’s fucking depressing. While in Phoenix this last week, I had no choice but to go with the group (no rental car, beggars can’t be choosy and all that) to T.G.I.Fridays for lunch. Of course, despising 98% of all chain restaurants, I stepped inside with a heavy heart and prepared for all manner of “flair” After wading through the shiny happy cheeriness of the wait staff (who the fuck is that bubbly and why are they allowed to speak?) I finally settled on a nice and simple Jack Daniels Burger, which would have made me moderately happy except for the options given for how I would like that burger cooked.

Medium, Medium-well, or Well-done.

I (very wrongly) assumed the fact that the word “rare” could not be found anywhere on the menu was just a strange naming convention peculiar to this chain. Medium must mean medium-rare in Friday-speak. Nope. They refused to cook my meat in medium-rare fashion even when I demanded it and stated that I would sign whatever waiver they liked.

What. The. FUCK.

In case anyone is wondering, and just for the record, I did a comparison amongst all of the meats at the table cooked in all three manners and they were all the same; cooked to death. Once again, just like the coffee, if I want a piece of rare meat I have to search it out and more often than not pay through the nose for it.

Do you like hot Italian sausage? Head down to the grocery store and try and find a package. Like me, chances are high that you will have an increasingly difficult time locating some. Sure, I could head to the butcher and procure some and it would be of much higher quality, but what if I just want to pick up something reasonable and decent while I’m at the store? I guess I’m just S.O.L these days, but don’t you worry about that, they stock plenty of mild sausages for me to feast on. (GAG)

Oh, and the cherry on top of it all? I can’t smoke ANYWHERE.

I want to open a new establishment called Hot and Bloody (or something). Here’s how it will go:

• The entire restaurant will be smoking. There will be a special glass-walled room with two or three tables for the non-smokers so they don’t contract any of the evil cancer wafting around the place. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour!” the pissed-off self-righteous douchebag will yell. My hostess will reply in her best patronizing corporate phone voice, “I’m sorry, sir. The non-smoking section is still full so you will just have to wait your turn. We have smoking available if you’d like.” (smarmy smile)

• The hot wing options will be Fucking Hot, Hiroshima, Hell’s Basement, and You Need an Ass Transplant. Go ahead and order mild, you’ll still be served the Fucking Hot option at a minimum.

• Ordering a steak well-done will not be an option. Medium-well might be an option (TBD), but utilizing it automatically gives the wait-staff the option to freely sneer at you. Realistically though, anything over the level of Medium and you will more than likely be told to leave until such time as all of that “society friendly” crap is out of your system.

• All vegans or forms thereof will be hung. (This may require a permit that allows my restaurant to be its own country, and therefore make its own laws. I’m looking into it.)

• White Zinfandel will be banned from the premises. Once the above permit comes through, requesting it will likely be a hanging offense alongside the vegans.

• Dessert? We have absinthe and hashish. Which one would you like? Both? Very good, sir.
  

Alrighty then, who’s with me?

No more chances

Boy, it’s always good to get back home after being away for a week. Phoenix may have been a full 10-15 degrees hotter than Wichita, but considering the fact that the humidity in Wichita is 10x that of Phoenix, it wins the “Worst Weather” award. But hey, I’ve always been a fan of the “dry heat” (it would seem that I’m a fan of quotes, as well).

Thursday I finally got a chance to go play some live poker. Since Wild Horse Pass happened to be the closest to our hotel, that’s where we ended up. Having no rental car, beggars can’t be choosy. Plus, having had a lackluster experience there the last time I was in Phoenix, I was viewing this as the second chance trip.

Wild Horse took that second chance and fucked it all up.

For now, let’s ignore the BIF (that’s Butt in Front) parade. Let’s ignore the pervasive putrid stench of desperation that saturates the place. Let’s ignore the guy with the grey brick dinosaur of a Motorola flip phone hanging off of his belt and my wonderment that someone still actually has one of those. Let’s focus only on the poker room.

Pure Shite.

I think it was dirtier and running worse than the last time I was there. When we arrived I counted the list for 3/6, it numbered 16. Number of empty tables? 5. Number of dealers milling around playing grab-ass? I counted 6. After waiting for 20 minutes I asked why they didn’t start a new 3/6 table and I was told they were considering it. Fucking great.

45 minutes later I finally got a seat. They never did start that game.

Highlight: I won my first hand with QJs on the button when I completed my OESD on the turn to take down a nice pot. Even though the games are by and large pretty rocky here, I seem to have lucked out and got on a table with a few donators. Hooray!

Interim: I am forced to dump a several hands like AKs, KQs, etc when the flops COMPETELY miss me. Having taken down a large pot on my first hand seems to have the effect of making people want to take shots at me, which would be great if my nice starting hands would become something.

Lowlight and Session Conclusion: The donators are low on chips and we’re 8-handed. I’m up a little over 10 BB’s after about 1.5 hours. Kill pot and I get KK, woohoo! Hit a set on the rainbow flop, get raised and reraised when a second club comes on the turn (no straight possibilities). Beaten by 83c when the backdoor flush comes on the river. Crub Frush, indeed. Table breaks ½ hour after the vicious beat and I’m stuck 6.5 BB.

The only thing left after our table broke was a bunch of crammed full 2/4 tables with a waiting list that stretched all the way to Prescott and a short-handed 8/16 game. Did they start any new games? Nope. Did I go home highly annoyed? Yep.

No more chances for you, Wild Horse.

Thanks for all the advice in the comments on the last post, and for what it’s worth I am currently reading both of Dan Harrington’s books right now. Damn, that volume II could almost be considered a tome. Put I and II together and you definitely have one. However, I think the general malaise of the last post has more to do with me being slightly depressed than a problem that is specifically poker related. Like I said, I’m trying to dig deeper into this, so don’t be surprised if you see some seriously non-poker business going on here in the near future. I think I will give another online room a go though….I’m thinking of hitting up Absolute or Poker Room. Any thoughts on which of those are better and why? I used to play Poker Room when I first began playing online, but I know a lot has changed since then, and I have never played at Absolute.

And now we return to our previously scheduled schoolwork, already in progress….

Something is off

The $2-6 Spread Limit game at the Excalibur really fucked me up, and I’m sitting here hoping that it’s temporary.

I hate online poker right now.

In fact I’ve spent the last week pondering the possible who’s, what’s, and why’s of it all and I still don’t really have a satisfactory answer so I’m going to write about it in the hopes that it begins working itself out.

I actually have no idea whether or not it was the wonderfully easy pickings at the Excalibur that is solely responsible, but I doubt it. I didn’t play very much during the Vegas get together, but that being said it was still more time than all of my previous live sessions combined. It was so much fun. Combined with the utter softness of the games, playing online definitely and immediately became less than appealing. But why, though? It’s not like the online games are that much tougher (at my level), and I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, but perhaps my subconscious disagrees. I think sometimes that perhaps my subconscious is just some 400 lb. fleshly behemoth too heavy to get off of the couch and drowning in Cheetoh’s, eschewing the frustrating and sometime soul squeezing challenge of consistently crushing online games for the easy and most of the time mindless money that sits at a live table for the taking. He pines for the low limit live games the same way he pines for everything that he won’t get off his fat ass to go after.

That’s theory numero uno.

Usually, some donking around at the $5 SnG’s will get me over this type of a hump when it rears its ugly head. Not so much this time. I’m playing OK and my results are OK, but I still find myself with a serious amount of disproportionate tilt when I catch the inevitable beat or make a retarded play. If someone decides to be a rude jackass it makes me kind of sad. I really can’t believe I just admitted that, and when it happens I can’t believe a faceless internet gnat made me feel like that, but there ya go. The fact that I’m even paying enough attention to it for it to affect me makes me want to kick my own ass for being such a punk bitch. However, taking a step back I realize that these are indicators of a deeper problem that seems to be making an appearance. The question now is, what?

So, there are the beginnings of theory #2.

Did I mention I’m in Phoenix all this week? Nothing like the rock-your-world desert heat to put a person in a contemplative state, eh? Well, that and sitting in a training class all day long.

Edge of the Knife: Day Three, Part III

Day One, Part I
Day One, Part II
Day One, Part III
Day One, Part IV

Day Two, Part I
Day Two, Part II
Day Two, Part III

Day Three, Part I
Day Three, Part II

It was noon and the cocktails were beginning to get to me. I wondered if perhaps I should indulge in a bit of water, but a snippet of memory from the military came back to me….

Suck it up and press on, soldier.

With this exhortation encouraging me, I was off to the bar. Or, perhaps I already had VSOP #7 in hand and was wandering around the slots and bar talking to everyone that I could, it’s hard to say. In my drunken state I made an easily forgettable mental note that I should probably start taking some actual notes, but I couldn’t find my notebook. Betwixt thee and me, I think it was gallivanting in Mrs. Head’s purse and I was too busy jabbering to go find her.

In a hazy state like mine you can see the edge approaching. It’s not near enough to worry about, but you know it’s on the way. Events and conversations get soft around the edges and begin jumbling a bit. While the order may be a bit off in my head, I remember all of the great conversations I had with Iggy, Pauly, Bob, JP Costales, Maudie, and Derek about a wide variety of things. I knew the drinks would eventually cause me to literally fall over, but it was the conversation that figuratively knocked me on my ass. Over a month later I’m still amazed that I actually met so many people that I can talk religion or politics with (who don’t necessarily agree) in a rational manner without anyone flying into a rage and spouting bland propaganda. As I made my way through VSOP #8 and #9 and more conversation I tried to think of a word that would accurately describe it all.

Sublime.

I was reveling in the satisfaction that comes with finding the perfect word when AlCantHang cruised by…..with EVERYONE in tow. Apparently, it was time to go to La Salsa for the tournament afterparty, but I was simply in shock that it was already 5 PM. I certainly felt like it was 5 PM, but the less drunk among us informed me that we were just coming up on 3 PM. Oops. I merged with the crowd and we were off on our short trek.

The short trek from The Aladdin to La Salsa as it was full of great moments. I’ll leave most of what happened on the trek unsaid, but I will say that Pauly and I pornslapped the hell out of many an unsuspecting pedestrian. We even pornslapped the pornslappers and got cussed in Spanish for our efforts. Ingrates.

La Salsa wasn’t ready, and quite frankly neither was I, but I wasn’t about to admit it to anyone. I can’t imagine what the wait staff must have thought about getting waylaid two hours ahead of schedule by a whole crowd of people hopped up on alcohol, tournament poker, and good vibes. AlCantHang, the Pied Piper of poker bloggers, the Patton of many a partying campaign, made some deft moves and we took over the back of the place.

Hijinks ensued. I tried to survive.

It’s very nearly impossible to balance on the edge of a knife, but I managed to do it for nearly three hours. There weren’t many conversations during that time where I uttered more than a few words, the edge had arrived out of nowhere and I was trying not to fall off the other side. To some it may have looked or seemed as though I wasn’t having any fun, but rest assured it was a complete blast (even with that gutbomb of a burrito inside me), and getting to see EvaCantHang maneuver Mrs. Head into some drunken karaoke was my one of my personal highlights. I’m pretty sure she’s the only person on the planet who could have gotten her to do that; Mrs. Head does NOT do karaoke. Never underestimate the power of great folks + yards of margarita.

It was around 6 PM when I finally gave up the balancing act and teetered off the edge. We took a cab with Gracie and Co. back downtown, and I wondered if I had ever been so happy to see a comfortable bed. I slept for a couple of hours and woke feeling much better but still not too hot as we made our way over to the Plaza to see what degenerate activities were taking place. Not wanting to join another mixed game, Mrs Head and I headed up with Pauly, Derek, Halverson, and Spaceman to the suite for some poker.

The suite was sweet. The first thing I wondered upon entering was where the film crew was hiding. It was the type of room equally suited to making porn or snuff films, and was the perfect underbelly setting for a late night SnG. Mrs. Head and I both lost, and there’s no sense in rehashing more than that. It was the perfect thing to do while imbibing late into the night.

Coming back downstairs I still found myself with a jones for some –EV Let it Ride, but the late hour hit me square in the gut. No more balancing. It was time to head back to the room and say goodbye to the edge forever. Well, maybe not forever, but at least until the next time we hit this town.

Besides, Mrs. Head informed me that we had to get up and hit the outlet malls in the morning.

Sunuva….

Main Event Mania

……is fully upon me. During the last six weeks I would jump on Pauly’s site maybe once or twice a day. I wanted to know what the hell was happening, but now that the Main Event is upon us I’m like some kind of vulture hitting refresh every 4 minutes as though I expect updates with such rapidity.

I viewed most of the WSOP 2004 on the new DVD’s that were just put up for sale (a giant WORD the fuck UP to Joaquin for the heads-up on getting a free copy). I had seen most of the episodes before, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Getting to watch all of the episodes in order was quite a treat, because when they would air I was never sure quite where they were and spent all my time wondering what I may have missed.

The bonus disc was the second, and consequently the biggest, treat. It was extremely heartening to find a bonus disc that wasn’t chock full of shite. This came with several other final tables, including the Kansas City Lowball final table which I had not seen (did they even air it?) and found to be a great pleasure to watch. It also has the Tournament of Champions so now I can watch Annie Duke putting Phil on tilt as many times as I want.

IMHO, if you’re a poker fan at all you should go ahead and order this set. Try getting a 3-disc set of any other TV show for $20, you’ll be hard pressed to do so. I’m sure anyone reading here already knows or has a copy already, but just in case…

www.espnshop.com
www.championshipdvd.com

Iggy has a great new Uber-post that is responsible for me wasting over half of my workday today, go check it out. If he ever stops those I will be completely beside myself.

I actually played a little bit of poker last night, woohoo! This weekend I had to pull down a bunch of ivy off of our house because we’re getting it painted. Stupid ivy rivered me though. Chiggers (or some other buried nasty) got all over my left leg, so while I sat moaning and itching on the couch last night after spraining my big toe (can you tell it was a great weekend?) I decided to bring up a .50/1 table and go to town for a while. I two-tabled for about 30-40 minutes and left with a profit of 17BB’s. Not a huge monetary win, but it was nice to actually have a winning session since thee few that I have played since Vegas have all been little losses.

I’m getting the poker bug again. Thank God.

WSOP Questions

This main event stuff is pretty exciting, yes?

But even amidst my own excitement and desire for on the minute detailed updates ala Pauly, Otis, or the boys at LasVegasVegas, I find myself here in this damnable cube asking some strange questions. Like….

After the WSOP, what’s going to happen to all of those tables?

Even though it is the exact opposite of glamorous, why doesn’t the Rio put up some Port-a-Lets? Would they fundamentally “tarnish” the WSOP somehow? How much money could one make from trying to sell Stadium Pals to the players?

Speaking of stadiums, I wonder if next year they will have to/try to hold the main event in one (or convention center, et al)? Would the logistics of such a thing, i.e. keeping control of chips, make such a task impossible?

How much will the top hookers make this week? Do you think that the top earner gets a gift certificate or anything? Perhaps they receive a “Top Performer” certificate that can be framed and mounted. Or maybe their pimp gives them a “Get out of a beating Free” card. Pauly, if you happen by here in the .4 minutes that you have free, consider doing an expose on the working ladies of the WSOP, I know you want to.

With the wildly puritanical “no F-bomb” rule, has anyone coined a temporary substitute for this versatile swearword? Flark yeah! Do they penalize you for saying shit? What if you have tourettes syndrome? ShitFuck.

More questions may be added as the day drags on. I'm Thinking Big, while my head faithfully remains Much Bigger.

It's here

On the off chance you don't know yet, the 2004 WSOP DVD's are available! Pretty reasonable price at $19.95 for a 3-disc set. Check out www.espnshop.com or www.championshipdvd.com to order. It should be available in retail outlets in a couple of months, as well.

Quick Hihowareya

OK dammit, I’m going to post something even if it’s pure crap and even if it kills me. I spent the holiday as God (who, if you will remember, founded this country *cough* sarcasm *cough*) intended, doing absolutely nothing. I didn’t even read a single blog, let alone write some drivel in my own humble space. For a brief period I was able to just sit around, get high (on life) and do something I haven’t done in some time….tinker around with my desktop PC which happened to be completely disassembled. I’m sure many would find this activity frustrating but once I actually get off my ass to do it, I find that it can be quite relaxing.

Once it came back together and I got everything loaded, it was time to do the second thing I haven’t done in quite some time….play a PC shooter. Oh FPS, how I missed thee. Since I played through Half Life 2 pretty recently, I decided to go with a game that I never actually finished, Far Cry. It actually came out while the din from the HL2 pre-release hype/lie gauntlet was still loud in everyone’s ear, and even though it got great reviews I still don’t think the gaming media did it justice. The whole Island of Dr. Moreau theme is a bit tired, but it doesn’t matter. If you love a great FPS, pick this one up.

I miss poker. I wonder sometimes whether she’ll take me back. Maybe if they are not still on the rocks, Bob will speak to her for me. It has actually been difficult at times not to play, but I know that with my life and mind the way they are now (read: scattered) I will just be flushing money down the toilet. Many people find that online poker relaxes them after a stressful day, but unfortunately this is SO not the case with me. If I try to sit at a table after a stressful day, the poker only makes it worse and that sucks, because the nearest live game is 3 hours away..

I spend practically every day thinking that things really can’t get much busier than they are right now, yet somehow they do. I may need to break out the Buddhist books and review some principles that I seem to have lost (if I ever really had them to begin with, but that discussion is for another place and time). Half of it is my own damn fault. I just took another job. No, I’m not quitting one to go to another, I’m adding. I know I shouldn’t have, but $30/hr for work that will hardly bend my brain is too good to pass up. Heck, I can always drop it if I feel like I really need to. I’ll tell them I eat gay animals, or something.

Please don’t stick me in the “languishing” column, everyone. I know things have been sporadic lately, but the regurgitation treadmill (school) is nearing completion and then I’ll be back on track.

Thanks again for hanging around :)

I was gonna....

...do a nice long post today, but I'm enjoying the holiday laziness so much I'm just gonna let it ride.

...do some schoolwork, but I'm feeling the independance of the holiday so fuck that.

....do something productive, but I think I'll just have some burgers and beans and smoke some trees.

Even though there are plenty of things in this country that are effed up and that give us cause to bitch and worry, it's still a pretty damn great place to live. Take a full day or two to really enjoy the holiday, everyone.

Cheers!

My Answer

Thanks everyone for the responses to yesterday’s questions, it looks as though most of us are thinking along the same lines. As far as my own opinion goes, I’m pleased as hell to see the pros doing so well this year in all of the events, and while I (and pretty much everyone else) love an underdog Cinderella story, I’m really pulling for an established pro to win the main event this year.

By saying these things I certainly don’t want to take away from the skill or talent that the “amateurs” show, and I certainly agree with the sentiment that Raymer was more of an unknown pro than an amateur. I think that if a named pro can take it down this year it will bolster the game even further. If an amateur (like MoneyMaker, never played in a live tourney before) takes it down again, I think that we will begin seeing a small swell of grumbling among the truly amateur masses that poker really is just all luck so why bother? Not that I think it will destroy the massive interest in the game or anything, but I think it has the potential to cause a small but visible crack that could speed the leveling of poker popularity instead of pushing it’s meteoric rise in popularity even further.

In all professional sports there are the greats that we as fans look up to. If amateurs started winning NBA championships, I think that its popularity would steadily decline; without someone or something great to aspire to the game starts becoming meaningless over time. A big win for a pro in the main event this year will really solidify the fact that poker is skill game more than it is a roll of the proverbial dice.

Michael Jordan, with his multiple championships and host of other amazing feats pushed basketball popularity to unheard of levels, and I think that is exactly what will happen if any one of the greats out there can pull down the championship this year.

For what it’s worth, I’m pulling for Action Dan. How amazing would that be?

World Series of Poker Live Blog
World Series of Poker Photos
World Series of Poker News
World Series of Poker Podcast

Questions for Everyone

The pros are doing great overall at the WSOP this year, better than last year it would seem. the question is this...

Will this fact cause enthusiasm for poker to increase or will it decrease a bit, since there aren't a ton of amateurs winning to "keep the dream alive", so to speak.

Will it not make any difference?

Do you think it will make any difference if a pro wins the main event this year?

OK, back to work now. I look forward to your opinions!

Don't you forget about me

Everyone out there is posting some good stuff, and it's regular stuff.

I, quite obviously, have not.

I swear I'm still around, just too busy to bust out more than a few sentences.

To give you an idea....I'm behind on my blog reading. That NEVER happens.

This sucks, but I promise I'll be back by the weekend (hopefully sooner).

The Edge of the Knife: Day Three, Part II

Day One, Part I
Day One, Part II
Day One, Part III
Day One, Part IV

Day Two, Part I
Day Two, Part II
Day Two, Part III

Day Three, Part I

Even though I was in a room filled to the brim with other drunken degenerates, I was still going to be mortally embarrassed if I couldn’t find my seating card.

“Say, who’s that dude standing there?”

“That’s Human Head. He’s waiting until everyone sits down so he can see where he is supposed to sit because he lost his seat assignment card.”

“What a donkey. If he can’t keep track of a little card, how in the heck did he even find his way out of bed?

…and so on and so forth. To my great relief, I found it in the cellophane of my cigarette pack. I walk around without my smokes like I walk around without my cock, which is to say, NEVER. It was on this logic that I stashed my card with the pack; I forgot to take into account the cognac and the fact that I am at times a frightfully absent-minded individual.

Let’s set the table (in patented Dr. Pauly format)….

Seat 1: Spaceman---Back from a brief blogging hiatus and ready to kick some ass at the table. A master with The Hammer.

Seat 2: Derek—Formidable brother of the hard-working Doctor

Seat 3: Lil’ Otis---Formidable brother of the hard-working Otis, who consequently looks just like Otis.

Seat 4: BG---Esteemed author and thoroughbred obsessive

Seat 5: Drizz---If you don’t know who Drizz is, you need to improve your blog selection.

Seat 6: Scott---EasyCure’s Friend, did I get the name right?

Seat 7: JohnnyHarp---Sunuvabitch and all-around nemesis of the Human Head for the next two hours.

Seat 8: Helixx---Music lover, longtime blogger, and dirty liar who claims the age of 38 or something. Next WPBT get together I’m slipping a casino guard a fiver to check his ID.

Seat 9: EvaCanHang---Al’s better half who is everything one comes to expect from a CantHang and more. Has been known to lead female bloggers and wives of bloggers away from the straight and narrow.

Seat 10: Yours Truly---Looking around for VSOP #5 and vigorously promoting the image of “too drunk to calculate pot odds”.

?:?? AM---Shitty cocktail waitress finally brings VSOP #5 as play begins. My watch is now nothing but a shiny silver thing strapped to my wrist as I lose the will to give a shit about the time. All motivation to take notes is out the window at this point.

After a couple of hands a cheer rises and finds its way to my ears as PokerGeek is the first in the tournament to drop The Hammer. Pretty ballsy considering Gigli was still hanging over everyone’s head. Our table was tight tight tight. For the longest time, no one was knocked out and at our table most hands weren’t going past the flop. Suddenly (I believe on Level 2), PokerNerd got bounced and saddled with the odious Gigli DVD. Playing the hammer, he went with style and grace.

?:?? AM---I have a lock on the waitress and she finally brings VSOP #6. At this point it’s either keep an eye on the waitress or on my table. I chose the waitress since I was fixated on the perceived injustice that my glass was becoming empty before the next round arrived.

After finally regaining focus I knocked a short-stacked Scott out with my AQs vs. 99 (I think) and bought myself a little time with the rapidly escalating blinds. Not too long after that, though, I begin to notice that my stack is again beginning to dwindle and it’s not readily apparent why. Then the flash of insight that would have been obvious had I not been so intent on getting drinks, arrived. That sneaky bastard JohnnyHarp was raising and betting like a maniac and stealing everything! I immediately made him my nemesis and determined that I would play back at him, but by then I was too late. My stack was for shit and he had managed to amass a very respectable amount, enough so that he could call with a lot of holdings if I decide to play back at him, which relegated me to needing good cards before I could make such a move. I took down a couple sets of blinds after that, but unfortunately never in a position to come over the top of him for something more substantial.

?:?? AM---I think the break happened here, but I can’t be sure. I do know that VSOP #7 happened, though. I finally got to meet Hella Shelly who I had been keeping an eye out for the entire time, and needless to say, the break was waay too short; I desperately wanted to keep talking. Perhaps the next event can take on a more social format, more of an all day event or something. Longer breaks, deeper stacks, and blinds that escalate more slowly. A guy can dream, right?

Best Laydown: Helixx laying down AA to EvaCanHang who turned a frush with K-10 heads-up. It left him brutally short-stacked, but had he gone in he would have been bounced even earlier.

After his untimely exit, there was table balancing and Felicia took his place. Fuckin’ Great. Yet another tough player to deal with and I have the Iggy of chipstacks, short short short. Thankfully she was short-stacked as well which made me feel a bit better.

[Lost a little time here]

After a flurry of busts all around the room I was moved to Seat 1 at a table where I knew about 3 people. CJ sat on my left with his giant stack and I had EvaCanHang and Hella Shelly across from me. My stack at this point had been ravaged by a bit of the ole’ escalating blind ultra-violence and I was going to have to push soon.

JoeSpeaker hung out behind me to provide some support as I folded AJo to a raise and a re-raise. I hated doing that, but I would have lost the hand, and besides, AJ is his hand; it holds no special mojo for me.

[Crap cards, fold. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat]

Finally in a BB that left me horrifically short, EvaCanHang pushed and I called with a 74d, figuring that if my chips had to go to someone they should go to another short-stack and not add to the big boys. Really though, I was hoping to pull off a giant suckout. Completely dominated against her 77, the flop brought me some hope with 2 diamonds. The turn brought me an OESD, but the cruel and unfeeling river decided I was unworthy to continue playing and sent me back to the bar in 21^st place.

Boo-fucking-Hoo. That’s what I told myself after an ever-so-brief flash of self pity. I lasted longer than I ever thought I would, and while winning is important and always nice, it wasn’t the main intent of this event. The main intent (at least in my case) was to get drunk and play cards with some new friends. That mission was an unbridled success all before midday. That’s right, it’s not even noon yet.

Who’s up for a drink?

A Toast

The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.
---Lucius Annaeus Seneca

For Charlie and Spaceman, raise ‘em up.

Battle Hardened

Everything he has done thus far has led to this. He’s spent many years honing his craft. He’s been in Hammer training for God knows how long. The Hilton Sisters have mistreated him for many days past, and the love of his life has been snatched by scary cult, yet he keeps on, head held high. He has spent the last 16 days war reporting in the trenches while soaking up all of the knowledge and vibes he can from the greats.

Today he enters the battle on the big stage.

Don’t be surprised when Pauly pulls out something huge. I believe he just may be the first WPBT Medal of Honor recipient.

(We have those, right?)

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Edge of the Knife: Day Three, Part I

There’s nothing quite like a desert morning. The temperature is perfect in the early hours, and while the various degenerates of Las Vegas drift into their fitful slumber there is a sense of peace and renewal. If you remain still for a moment it's funny how you can see and feel the degeneration increase as the day progresses and the temperature continues to rise. Without the restorative power of a desert morning, I wonder sometimes if Las Vegas would have prospered in any other place or simply died of sheer exhaustion.

After some Starbucks fuel we grabbed a taxi and as we rode back to our favorite place I was thankful I had made the decision to sleep for a few hours. I had a big feeling that today was going to need long haul endurance, a feeling that only got stronger as we entered the casino and headed towards the poker room.

It was tournament time.

OK, not exactly tournament time, it was pre-registration time. Mrs. Head and I ponied up our dough and received our seating cards. It goes without saying that I was getting pretty pumped, this being only the second live tournament I’ve ever played in. Hell, I was downright nervous; all of the bloggers would be descending to the Aladdin within a few hours and I was a little bit shaky with the anticipation. In Las Vegas there’s only one cure for that at 9:15 AM….

Cocktails!

Aaah, there were the glistening bottles, looking so shiny and pretty, beckoning with their siren song that promised great times and the courage to play bold and daring cards. I made my way around to the dark side of the bar to greet the venerable AlCantHang , and wondered what I should be ordering. Of course, being in Al’s presence I was tempted to go with a SoCo, but for me this is not a morning cocktail. Bloody Mary? Too much like breakfast, I wasn’t hungry. Martini? That’s just an accident waiting to happen. Beer? Nope, not today. This morning called for something special, so I had to ask myself, “Self, if you had an official drink, what would it be?”

Courvoisier VSOP. Potent wang concoction and Official Drink of the Human Head and The Ladies Man. If you ever find yourself needing to rise to an occasion (literally or figuratively) there’s nothing better to give you running start. Mrs. Head requested one, as well, and right then I knew with certainty that desert mornings are truly an excellent thing.

9:25—VSOP #2---Boy, these are going down waaaaaay too easily.

The dark side of the bar may as well have been the dark side of the moon. Upon thinking back, I am amazed at the fact that in all that open space just how much that side of the bar felt like a world apart. Talking with Pauly (who was on his eleventieth Corona) had me off on so many unrelated-to-poker subjects that I nearly forgot we had a tournament to play.

9:40---VSOP #3—Yep, still going down easy, and my game feels strong..

Helixx found a stool next to mine looking a little rough around the edges and related his tale of the previous evening while ordering some coffee. Feeling the flow of the cognac, I consider chiding him about ordering coffee while everyone around him is imbibing liberally, but I think better of it. After all, he spent the whole night partying while I got a nice wholesome pansy-ass 5 hours of sleep. He’d been in the trenches fighting while I was dodging the draft, let the man have his coffee. The bar and tournament areas begin filling up and the meet and greet was in earnest. While considering the numbers of new people I’m about to meet I silently curse my poor name recollection skills and then get into a brief discussion with myself about which is better, recognition of names or faces. The jury is still out on that one.

9:55---VSOP #4---What? The tournament is about to start? I’ve only had three drinks!

Well that 45 minute pre-tourney warm-up sure did go fast. I hope I don’t get seated with any tough players…waitaminute….Shit, that’s right, I’m playing with bloggers…scratch that idea.

No sweat. I can take ‘em on because I’m floating down a river of cognac and good folks.

Now, where’s that seating assignment card I just had?

[To be continued…]