Thursday, December 28, 2006






























Bill Rini has a post handing out congrats for the new racetrack view on FTP. I have to say that for the most part I agree, except that I like to sit on the end seat, thats how I stack my tables. And when I do so I can't see the bet amount for the player to my left. I usually play two tables, side by side and then have what ever chat open on the bottom.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Any advice? I am going to get outed. I gave my computer savvy uncle in law my FTP screen name, which is my screen name everywhere and my url redirects here.

Not that I really care a whole lot....

fuck.

double fuck.
The two year old's equivalent of a four day bender includes a lot of sugar and tons of presents. When your family is strewn about the middle west and your birthday falls the day after Christmas this is an easy to achieve milestone of toddlerhood.
IMG_0212
The bender really started on Saturday at 2:45 when we arrived at Great-Grandma's house and the boy found his cousins, aged 7 and 11 in attendance. He looks up to older kids and always wants to engage them in play. His cousins always oblige. Then we ate and opened birthday presents. Then we opened Xmas gifts. And so this is how an addiction starts.

He doesn't really care whats in the box anymore. He just wants to shred the paper and move on to the next one. Sunday was more of the same, moving to Grandma's house. Eat, open repeat. Monday of course was a big day. The three and a half of us were at home all day. Open, eat, play, eat, play, watch trains on DVD, nap, play, eat, play.

Tuesday was the big 2. Wake up eat, play and hit the Magic House. Eat lunch, nap and then out to dinner with grandma and grandpa. Pizza and arcade style games.

He vibrated with over stimulation until he passed out at 11 last night.

I have to say that the last two days rocketed into my top five days all time.

IMG_0229

Thursday, December 21, 2006


Hammer Quads are the sweetest quads.
I have taken a wee bit of shit over my resemblance to a certain round roundball coach. I admit that I hold a resemblance to this captain of the cagers. What has frustrated me to this point is that I couldn't figure out who my main detractor most resembled. Then as I lay awake last night, contemplating my own mortality (or was it morality?) the light bulb went on. I had a eureka moment. It came to me as if it were knowledge passed down from the gods on Olympus.












He has been called Captain Chaos, Pizza the Hut and even Buddy Bizarre. Now he is known as the guy who looks like the brother of the guy with huge junk.

Yes, I am assuming the crash position.

Shout out to Maudie for the pic that I lifted off of Flickr. Her copywrite says ARR. So I may have to take this down cause I didn't ask permission. Just don't sue me for $7.5 mil, m'kay?

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

A few weeks ago the alumni department at one of my alma mater's sent out a blanket email asking for assistance in 1.) recommending a place to have a party and 2.) emailing people about the party once it was planned. Because this event is for "St. Louis" alumni I recommended about 8 places that are actually in the city. Really cool places too.

Mad Art Gallery
City Museum
Missouri Botanical Garden
Forest Park Boat House
St. Louis Zoo
Schlafly Bottle Works
Third Degree Glass Factory
Windows on/off Washington

Not that I really thought that they would actually pick someplace in the city. I mean its the city who wants to schlep into the city? Following the predictable pattern they have set with every other gathering (except the Missouri Valley Tournament which is actually played at the Kiel Savvis ScottTrade Center and planned by someone else) the event will be held in the county. Blah. For those of you less familiar with St. Louis let me give you a slightly exaggerated perspective. This is like have the New York City Alumni meeting in New Jersey. Sure thats where most of the people live, but come on, its still Jersey.

To make things worse the event is at a stuffy country club in the richest of suburbs. So I guess its more like Connecticut than Jersey? I guess I was dumb for holding out hope that the event would be a reasonable affair.
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I cashed in the Wheatie last night. I had my man pants on.
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I don't play tournament poker very well, mostly because I don't play tournaments that often.

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For the second time in my life I busted G-Rob with AK. The first time was in a $25 NL game on Party, many moons ago. Yes, thats how I measure poker success, how many times and with what hands I can bust G-Rob. I suck at poker so its the little things that make me keep at it.

Last night I made a big raise pre-flop after several limpers/standard raise callers, I don't remember which. All folded back to G-Rob who flat called. I caught a K on the flop, it checked to me and I had not much more behind than what was in the pot so I moved in.

G-Rob gave it a long thought and called. I guess he could have thought I was making that move with TT, JJ or QQ. When he called I figured he at least had outs. He only had 3. I think G-Rob's mistake was going more than one level deep against a guy that plays ABC. For the most part, my bets mean what they say. In this pot, both times I bet I wanted to take it down right there, but felt that I had a hand I could battle with.

G-Rob is famous for taking hands like 52o to the flop and outplaying people. I am one of those he can out play. By moving in I put the decision on him and didn't let him float to the turn. Yes I had TPTK, but who knows what craptacular 2 pair he was drawing to? Yes this is actually what I was thinking. If I check behind in this hand he tries to take it away on the turn or he catches up.

Don't make any mistake. G-Rob is a much better player than me. Thats why I only play against him with quality starting hands and strong holdings ;).

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

In general I hate generalities. I also hate dumbasses. Furthermore I loath bloggers hating on bloggers (Waffles is the exception, he can hate and be hated so carry on). So I am forced to address a topic in generalities because someone is a dumbass and I have to call them out on it, but they are a blogger so I will not hate on them. I will work in the arena a generalities.

When you play online (or live, but most of you whom I'm addressing do this online because you are small dicked little men that like your noses free of blood) and you berate someone for making a play saying things like "oh, I forgot, nobody folds at this level" you sound like an idiot, especially when you lose the pot. You look really dumb, when in retrospect the person had legit reason for 1.) calling down your bluff, 2.) moving in on you and showing air, 3.) make you look like an idiot by exposing your poor play, etc. This is especially unnerving when you call out a fellow WPBT'er. If you mess with the bull you get the horns.

Who are you people that berate anonymous player (you think they are donkeys) in chat? Are you trying to tilt the donkey that just "stole" your pot? What is your game plan? First and foremost DON'T TAP ON THE GLASS YOU DUMB SONOFABITCH! Secondly why would you tell someone that they just tilted you? Thirdly when you make dumb comments to people you don't know, you don't know who you are commenting too. You could be calling a very good player and fellow WPBT'er and idiot.

In case you didn't notice the WPBT tends to get together once in a while. Now you are meeting the much larger individual, that you just called a cocksucker, in person. Where I come from if a man says come on, you damned well better come on. I have never thrown a punch in anger in my adult life. Don't make me, dropping you, break that streak. Alternatively you are forced to seek out the person and apologize. Who wants to do that? You do, if you have any type of balls.

In this same vein, don't comment on other peoples blogs telling them that you are gunning for them (again, unless its Waffles). Especially when in the past you have openly and honestly berated them during the play of a game, upon losing a pot to them. Granted you didn't know you were berating who you were berating, making your future actions all that more stupid.

Quit acting like Phil Helmuth, Prahlad Freeman or Jamie Gold. Act like a man at the table. Take your beats like you're a man. Accept the fact that people make bad plays for bad reasons and still win once in a while. Believe it or not, people hit one outers. They hit them exactly as often as they are supposed to. Oh, and quit bluffing calling stations and then lambasting the calling station for calling, dumbass.

No this is not about "respecting the game". Its about respecting yourself and respecting people. I am sorry that you're 5'7" white kid with the mouth of an NBA star. So get yourself some season tickets and play 6th man for a while. Keep your comments to yourself.
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*edit*

I should add that this story is mostly true and I witnessed half of it, was told the other half and no it did not happen to me. Therefore I don't feel that I should reveal anyone involved. Furthermore the circumstances are such that I might have to explain everything to the parties involved to bring them up to speed. I felt that the what I said needed saying and that if you think this is you STOP IT. And no, its not G-Rob either.

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*edit 2*

Of course I play tonight and turn into a hypocrite when I do it. I wasn't trying too but I did it. I said something that was taken the wrong way and then followed it up with a running joke one of my friends has. Whenever someone states the obvious my buddy calls them "Dr. Science". So when I tried to console someone and then they stated a fact I called them Dr. Science. I wasn't trying put you down. So I not only have to apologize to you, but pull back on the rhetoric a bit too.

Sorry Dave. It was meant out of love. Really.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Life is good home on the ranch. The wife passed her exam, which is nice for those of us that enjoy sanity. I was so happy on Friday that I skipped the opprotunity to play the 1/2 NL fish pond at the local room and instead headed out to do Xmas shopping and get some "thank you for passing your boards, you rawk" gifts of flowers, chocolate and gift certificate to the spa. Hear that ladies?

So at the company holiday party Friday I bit into a chicken wing and got a mouth full of rubbery blood. Then as I raised my napkin to my mouth to spit it out I received a snoot full of moth ball smell. Thats right un-cooked (not under cooked) chicken and napkins that had literally been mothballed for a year. At least the booze was free.

I came home from Vegas with an addiction to bloody marys. Yikes. I actually made one last night. I never mix drinks at home, other than shaking up Tool's beer before I hand it to him.
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Beta is back at work so the email posting is done for now.

Also, beta screws the feeds so you need to re-subscribe if you use bloglines or similar.
I call bacon on it.

http://www.slate.com/id/2155422/nav/tap1/

Thursday, December 14, 2006

In my world DickBro and Gunt are arch enemies.  Not so much a Superman vs. Lex Luther but more of a Bizarro vs. well, versus Lois Lane's Gunt. 

I noticed that none of the ladies chimed in on the DickBro/Gunt conversation.  Do you guys ever wonder when we will be rendered redundant?  I guess as long as our mother's love us we have a shot a survival.  We spend 4 days in vegas and come back to have a thread about gunt.

Does DickBro have to pay extra?

Did I mention that I flopped Broadway vs. Waffles 3 pair? Jetski no gOOt!.

I won a NLH 6 Max SNG last night.  All I can say is nut peddling is easy.

I have not started Christmas shopping.  I have no decorating done. 

I flopped Broadway against Waffles. Waffles also bet into quads last night.  Not my quads, but quads none the less.

Miller vs. Bud, Missouri vs. Wisconsin, St. Louis vs. Milwaukee.  Everyone one is aware that so called professional drinker and renowned booze hound STB refused the shot that I purchased for him, right?  Flat refused.  Abdicate your throne dear sir, Drizz - Kink of the Captains and Cokes will take over for you.

Self dealt tourney - how do we pull that off in Vegas?  Limited juice, 60 minute levels that don't double, less crap shooting. 
This might be the last straw.  Those god damn cock sucking mother fucking sons of bitches that I work for have blocked access to beta.blogger.com. How in the fuck am I supposed to survive this insipid fucking place if I can't rail on them, talk about slinging the virtual chips and such?

Uber pissed.

So I am relegated to the world of the email post.  I hope this still works, otherwise I might just hurl this laptop through my boss's window.

Fuck.

And I had something great to talk about too.  Poker break through.  I have finally gotten of my previous plateau. I have improved my game.  In the parlance of my favorite Dawn, I might be now considered "intermediate +".  How is that you might ask? 

Well

I don't give a shit about the chips anymore.  I care about making the right play at the right time, most of the time, anyway.

Oh yeah, I flopped Broadway last night in the Mookie and doubled through Waffles.  Waffles chips are the sweetest chip. 

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

"Dude, that sucked"
-Daddy, upon getting doubled through by Maigrey (she was playing my stack)


Winning at poker is easy.

Step one: Buy Chips and sit at table
Step two: Toil for 10 hours and keep said chips
Step three: Let Maigs play your $200 NLHE stack while you play her stack in 2/4 Limit Razz.
Step four: Repeat

I have talked about this already but I felt it deserved its own post. Daddy, when you mess with the bull you get the horns. Yes she put it all in on a draw. But 15 outs twice is a hell of a draw. Besides Daddy, you played K5.

Winning PaiGow is easy.
Step one: Buy Chips and stand behind table
Step two: Bet by placing your chips next to Maigs chips
Step three: Press when she presses, learn to say "bonus money is the sweetest money"
Step four: Repeat

Did you hear that? It was the sound of PokerChamp taking one to the nads by a girl.

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The sickness. I am starting to take great joy in handing out the most brutal of beats. When I catch and lay it to a poor bastard I call it "the sickness".

I am playing 3/6 LHE at a table that consists of me, Tool, a few drunk bachelor party goes and random people who are a mix of fish and donkeys. The guy to my left is an orthopedic resident somewhere out east. He is playing very tight as I think he is on his last buy in.

I limp and he raises, already having had the raising chips in his hand. Tool makes it three bets and before I can act Dr. BadBeat asks the dealer how much he can raise. The dealer tells him he can make it $12 and I say "no he can't" as I pull off the limp, four bet. He makes it five and Tool calls and I call.

The flop come 653, I bet out and we cap that bad boy.

The turn is 1 bet and the river is 1 bet, leaving me with $4 behind. I have not earthly reason why there were no raises on the turn or the river, but there weren't. You have to raise with your AA there, you just have too.

The dealer looks at me and asks to see my cards. I turn it over as I say "threes full of sixes".

Sickness ensues. Tool thought I had the AA, oh how he was wrong. I had pocket threes.

I am sure that Dr. BadBeat died a little inside. I take solace in knowing that I delivered his biggest badest beat of all time. I cracked AA and KK with 33 and I got all but $4 of my stack in. I won a $125 3/6 pot.

That is the sickness.
I bitch a lot about my job. A lot. But we you look at how hard I work versus what I get paid I must question the sanity of my overlords. Have no illusion, it is still they that are sticking it to me and not vice versa. I guess what I am saying is that I bitch about it, but its not a bad relative to how many people are.

For most people, the things they bitch about are relative to their overall well being. If a car rolled over my foot I would bitch about that. It doesn't mean that I don't have a wonderful wife, a great kid and a sure to be cutest daughter in the history of the world on the way.

Want to know why I quit writing my nanowrimo? It was depressing me. I was writing about my greatest fear. It scared the hell out of me. When I finished my last entry I cried and I couldn't get back to it. If something like that really happened I would be crushed, and have a real reason to bitch. So a lot of times when I hear people lamenting their terrible luck I join right in and say "yeah, me too". But I am trying to get away from that. My kid is healthy, my wife is happy and I have a lot of great things going on in my life.

The fact that my overlords are greedy, incompetent bastards that are rightly being investigated by the department of labor for only one of the many things they do wrong is besides the point. For the most part I like what I do, just not for or with whom I do it with. So I shouldn't bitch. They guy pounding out 40 hours on the factory line would look at my soft fat ass and tell me to get over it.

Does that mean I won't end up suing these greedy sons of bitches? Not in the least. It just means that I won't let them take advantage of me and steal my happiness anymore. I have it good and I should enjoy it. Could I have it better? Sure, but who couldn't?

If you think I wrote this with you in mind, your right, I did. I don't want to hear it anymore. Look on the bright side. Just for a while. Of course shitty stuff happens but why does the shitty stuff get to be shitty and define your life? I say let the light shine. Be happy that you have it as good as you do. Thats my goal. That and to actually start coaching a roundball team so Daddy and BG have some real ammunition.

Speaking of nanowrimo, bah. It sucked. I don't think I could have hit random keystrokes and come up with 50,000 words, much less a story. Mine was to be a tale of guy getting into gambling, over his head, neglecting his family and ultimately redeeming himself, only to have it all come apart anyway, in the worst way possible.

Here is the first chapter.

3 Good Years Chapter 1 - In the End

Marc walked into the office and docked his laptop. There was a feeling of relief that washed over him. For the first time in over a year he made the walk from his car to his cube without a knot in his stomach. His nerves were jumping. Jumping so much that he didn't decide against his bacon egg and cheese biscuit with a diet Coke, he just plain forgot about them. $4.14 to the positive, plus all those saved calories. He was about to embark on the next chapter of his life, but before he did, he needed to...well what he needed to do was grab his boss by her skunk striped hair and bounce her off the wall a few times. What he would really do was just give her a big fuck you.

Now Marc sits in his cubicle, mindlessly checking email. Of course today is a day that the bitch is running late. One of her little darlings probably upchucked. Marc pulls up Bloglines and starts deleting all of the "poker" writers. To hell with them he thinks. I don't need those assholes anymore. Pokerjamajam - gone, Down with Poker - gone, The Mortician - gone, Pancakeman - see ya, May - goodbye, PondScum -over. Tippy and Queenie both get saved. There is a soft spot that can't be ignored. Besides, those two might just come in handy someday. Thats not bad. Marc thinks again. Thats two more connections to the last three years that he doesn't need. Delete. He wants to make sure the only thing left in his life that might remind is JJ. Why even bother with anything else?

Marc doesn't see her, but hears her shrilling at Jenny. Its about fucking time he thinks as he checks to see that it is 9:45. As he rounds the corner he sees that she is disheveled and crying. A few years ago this site would have disarmed him, but today he is cold. He only has room for one and this cunt isn't it.

"Leanne, I need to talk to you."
"Okay. I am free after lunch", she whispers
"No, right now."
They walk into her office.
"I am sick of your shit."
"Wha?"
"You, I am sick of you and I quit."
"Wait a second, you have a deadline."
"No, you have a deadline, and you better get started because I sure as hell haven't been doing anything for the last six months."

Marc turns and walks out. He is completely unsatisfied by the exchange. So he turns to get in a parting shot.

"By the way, no one here can stand you, including Jenny. You are a self absorbed little JAP and everyone thinks you're a cunt. "
"Sorry Jenny" he says as he walks by. "But I thought she needed to know."

On his way back to his desk to pick up his jacket, Marc spots Butterfield.
"Yo Butterfield, how's it hanging?"
"Huh?"
"Why is it that you never piss in a urinal anyway? Are you shy or deformed? Or do you really have a 12 inch schlong that gets dunked in the urinal water?"
"Hey thats inappropriate!"
"Hey that's inappropriate!" Marc says in his best Uncle Tom voice. "Stringing someone along for over three years is inappropriate too, but I guess you'll find out about that later today."

With the jacket slung over his shoulder Marc made his way to the parking lot. The truck had belonged to his mother in laws step dad. That connection had to be broken. As he pulled out and headed for the dealership he felt pangs of guilt for not telling his friends goodbye. He knew that in talking with him he would lose momentum. He couldn't risk it. Marc was on autopilot driving to the dealership. When he pulled into the lot he couldn't recall a single lane change or stop sign. Huck, the salesman bolted out the door to greet him. Marc and Huck had spent a few hours together over the past few days. Marc was trading in all three of their cars. This one was last because it was his favorite. Each night for the past three nights Huck would take the keys from Marc, hold out a few papers for him to sign and drive Marc home.

Their ritual repeated again tonight. Marc stepped down from the cab and handed the keys to Huck. They stood and signed the papers on the hood. A lot rat brought the new truck around. It was a regular cab. With only the two of them, there was no need for a King Cab and the empty space would only serve as a reminder. The lot rat stuck around and lifted the car seat into the new truck. Marc stopped him from putting the blanket in the new truck. Just one more connection that should remain broken. Marc handed over a check for the balance due, Huck handed him the title and registration papers and they parted ways.

Marc pulled up in front of the house. The for sale sign stopped him cold. That dumbass wasn't supposed to put that in the yard until tomorrow. Finding someone in residential real estate who wasn't a complete fucking moron was nearly impossible. Marc quicly ducked inside to grab the bags and boxes. He wanted to get loaded up before any of the neighbors came by. He didn't feel like fielding any questions. He did want to look at the sympathy in their eyes. No one should feel sorry for him. He brought this all about himself. This was his fault.

As the last box was loaded in Marc found himself standing in the middle of the street looking up at what was supposed to be his home for the rest of his life. It was unimaginable that this was the last time he would see it. Impossible to fathom that JJ wouldn't play on that swing set again, that Michelle wouldn't tend those Hostas again. The little things that would never happen. The birthday parties, the turkey fries, Christmas - all would never be. Marc climbed back up the stairs and walked through the door. He set the alarm, giving him no more than a final 60 seconds to get out. He walked the long way through the kitchen and into the living room, back to the hall and into the foyer. The house was still a dream home, just not his dreams anymore. As he pulled the door closed behind him, tears finally started to fall down his face. By the time he made it to the truck he was sobbing so violently he couldn't unlock the door. Marc ran across the street to the neighbors flower bed, picked up a brick and charged back to the house. He leaped to the the top of the porch and chucked the brick through the glass on the front door.

By the time he was in the truck the neighbor was poking her head out the door asking if everything was okay. Marc left four tire tracks as the diesel roared to life and the four wheel drive engaged. He was done with this place, this city, this part of his life. Done, over, no more. It was almost noon by now and he knew JJ would need lunch. He contemplated just waiting until his school lunch was over, around 12:30, but he wanted to be home in time for dinner and they had a six hour drive. Marc pulled through the McDonald's drive-thru and ordered the #2 witha diet coke for himself and a 6 piece Mcnugget mighty kids meal for the boy. The ineptitude of the staff at this outlet never ceased to reach a new low. Somehow today he actually received all that he paid for with out being asked to pull to the side.

As Marc walked in the front door of JJ's daycare, the manager greated him with a forced smile and a bit of shock. Marc had never been her before 4:30 so his presence was unexpected. Marc walked back to JJ's rooms and collected the things out of his locker. He had a change of clothes, an extra binky, some Tylenol, his Thomas blanket and a Giraffe. Marc thought about leaving the blanket and the giraffe. Both had been bought by Michelle. Marc decided that leaving them behind would be selfish on his part. JJ, now more than ever needed to things to cling to.
As Marc walked out onto the playground, JJ immediately spotted him and came running over.
"DADDY! DADDY!" He screamed.

JJ wrapped his arms around Marc's knees and squeezed as hard as he could. JJ wasn't used to seeing his anyday at noon, not that the greeting was any different that it would have been at 5:30. Marc lifted JJ up and received a big hug as a reward.
"Hey buddy! What are you doing?"
"Playin' with TRUCKS!" JJ emphasized trucks even more by pointing to a group of little boys all pushing Tonkas in the sand.
"Do you want to go bye-bye with Daddy?"
"YEAH!"
"Okay, lets go bye-bye. Go tell your friends bye-bye."
Marc let JJ run off as he made his way over to the teachers. A group of 4 women all between 30 and 45 looked at him with that sickening sympathetic look.
"Today is JJ's last day. He won't be back."
"Okay" the mother hen let loose. "Is their anything you need?"
"No, were leaving town. I have to get out of this place."
"Sure" as all the other hens nodded.
"Do you need help out to the car?"
"No, I've got it." Marc said as JJ came running back over.
"Daddy!! EAT! EAT!"
"I know buddy, there is food in the truck lets go."

The next 45 minutes were a combination of lane changes, dropped french fries and spilled apple slices. Surprisingly the milk remained in its cup. They hit Hannibal by 2:30 and JJ had already been asleep for an hour. Marc started to think about how much a 2 and a half year old would remember about about the last month. He hoped it wasn't much. As it stood it had been only 2 short days since JJ last asked, "Where's mommy? Where'd go, my mommy?"

Marc tried to explain the first time, that mommy was gone and couldn't come back, but JJ just didn't understand. Marc started telling him that mommy was at work. Mommy at work was something that JJ didn't understand, but knew that it always resulted in mommy tucking him in, or fixing his breakfast. Marc was hopeful that the question would be stymied at least for a few years, until JJ could understand that mommy wasn't at work and she wasn't coming home.
As I sit here working on a redundant presentation for a redundant project, all I want to do is read about Vegas. I never hang out enough, I always play too much and I never sleep.

I hung out more and slept more than I ever had before in Vegas. I played a lot too. I discovered somethings about myself and about others. First I like most of the people that I met in LV. Second, some of you are exactly who you seem to be and some of you are nothing like that. They guy I didn't like? He was the one that went runner-runner on me 4 times on Thursday.

For instance, I met Waffles this time, having not met him last. I had expected him to be 6'5" and 400 lbs of muscle, cause you need that kind of fire power to back up all the things he says. Waffles looks like Iggy's kid brother.

Why did I think a guy named Miami Don would be 52 fat and bald? You must let me know when you are in town.

Where in the hell was April? Both of them? I would see TX float by and then go to talk to her and she would disappear.

I got to talk to Drizz twice for a total of 30 minutes. Not enough time. We didn't even get to the topic of volleyball. That bastard cracked my KK and was nice enough to bet hard enough to get me to lay it down. Rule #1 of Poker in Vegas, don't tangle with the bid dogs, steal from the fish. This is a lesson that Hanel taught me a long time ago.

I finally won money playing PaiGow. F-Train plays PaiGow better than he plays Razz. How about lending me that book of yours. Don't make me send the Russian after you.

Daddy tangled with Maigrey with top two pair (K5). He lost when her 2d4d flopped OESD and a flush draw. She put MY STACK in with 13 outs twice. Daddy, stick to bacon and donkeys. Playing K5 against her?

I was standing next to BG when Bobby Bracelet arrived. I like you better, if that is any consolation BG. Fat kids have to stick together after all. See I didn't even link him up.

Did you ever blow your nose and get a mouthfull of boogers? How do they fly around the tissue into your mouth?

Meeting Dawn was a treat. She is by far the most underrated writer I know. Pauly, Otis, Dawn and not necessarily in that order. Dawn's are the only hand histories and trip reports that I read top to bottom every time. Somehow listening to her justify playing K3 for a raise out of position is glorious and non-donkey like. (Well its donkey like, but entertaining)

I met Karol too. She is nice too, in that don't make me snap F-train over my knee to prove my point kind of nice. Oh how I long to play in that homegame.

GCox, cool as hell.

Maudie, her tat reads "For those about to drink, make mine a tequila."

Iggy always lives up to expectations. Of course he never calls when he comes home, but then cest la vie.

Daddy again. I didn't recognize him on Friday with out his signature hat. You must where the hat at all times.

Ryan is just as cool as you think he is.

Pauly is Pauly. But where was Derek?

Change100, can I post the naked pics that don't show your face? HAHA. That was a joke. Pauly made me sell the pics back to him.

CC, thanks man, I needed that.

Al. you had us all worried, if that tells you how drunk you were.

Dr. Chako, good to see you again. Cover your ass.

SoxLover, thanks for the deal.

The Rooster, man you were on the list and kept slipping through my fingers. Falstaff ditto.

Linda can see tilt from a ile away.

Easycure I love the Dolphins jersey.

Finally my friend, STB. It wasn't just tequila, it was Patron, my favorite spirit. I guess if I'd spent all day drinking Miller Products I too might have been to wussified to drink something real.

For those of you I missed, I salute you.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Thursday
0530 - Wake up before alarm goes off. Am showered and ready to go by 0600. Tool is 11 minutes late picking me up. I go stir crazy for 31 minutes.

0730 - Meet up with Dr. J, brother of famous internet poker celebrity (FIPC) at the gate. We discover that by an act of sheer oddity that we are all seated together, yet on two separate reservations.

0915 (VST) - We touch down at McCarren.

0930 - I walk by hot stripper girl on the moving walkway. I get off to check flight information with Dr. J for FIPC's arrival. I get back on walkway and pass hot stripper girl again. She is convinced that I just tried to look at her, twice. I am convinced that her name is Candy and she is a little to self absorbed, and not quite hot enough to have that much attitude. Dr.J and Tool argue about how much "enhancement" she has had.

0955 - FIPC is able to make his way through the paparazzi and find the St. Louis boys standing at luggage carousel #5.

1010- In cab on way to Aladdin.

1045 - Playing PaiGow because there are no games going on in the Aladdin poker room

1130 - Informed that there is a gas leak on the strip. The gas has been turned off which means that there is no hot water and not way to cook lettuce wraps at PF Changs. Walk tothe Cantina at the Showcase mall for mexican food.

1150 - Audible, we eat at the Harley Davidson cafe

1300 - The four of us drop $60 to play in the 1:00 PM tournament at the Aladdin. Tool makes the final table but does not cash. I play one hand and get my AK outflopped by AJ. I play one pot and bust.

1400 - Seated at a 2/4 LHE table I proceed to prove that I am not the worst player in the world.

1900 - The Jesus Buster starts to play the 7pm Aladdin tourney.

2100 - Jesus Buster wins tourney, go figure.

2230 - We get the boys rounded up to head to the IP.

2400 - STB and Tool both refuse the tequila shots I buy them. Thats right, STB is a big puss. Tool gets Maudie to drink his shot. Drizz steps up and takes one for the team. Tool <> Wisconsin.
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Friday
0030 - Still at the IP. Pit boss raises limits on PaiGow table. WTF is that?

0230 - Chicken Fries and sourdough burgers at O'Sheay's courtesy of Tools PAIGow heater and the holding power of the human rat hole.

0400 - I make first prop bet of the trip. I take the over of 7:30 on when FIPC will return to the room

0600 - I lose prop bet.

1100 - Lettuce wraps and orange chicken at PF Changs.

1215 - Poker at the MGM

1900 - I flop quads

2300 - I switch places with Maigrey. She plays my stack for a couple of orbits and I go play the Razz orbit of horse. Just a few hands previous Daddy took up residence in the 10 seat at my NL table. As I leave, I tell Maigs to "double me up". I play two pots in Razz, win one and lose one. When I come back Daddy is pissed and I am doubled. You see Daddy flopped two pair and Maigs with her 4d2d flopped a straight and a flush draw. Daddy moved in and she called with 13 outs twice. She hit a straight and a flush on the river and doubled me up. Daddy was seen later replaying the hand in the MGM sportsbook. I tell everyone that I have discovered the road to poker success.

2400 - I bust and rebuy. I lose to a set when I get it in on the turn with TPTK and the nut flush draw.
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Saturday

0100 - I double up and am up for the session when I get to see a cheap turn with TT on a JJx board. Turn is a T. I get check raised or raised and move all in. The guy tells the table that the only hand he is behind is JT. His AJ misses the 4 outs on the river.

0330 - The four of us decide that the walk from the MGM to the Aladdin is much sketchier than it used to be. The combined $8000 we have on us makes us think about our own mortality.

0430 - In bed with bankroll in tact.

1100 - Eating Lobster Chowder and Fish tacos at Caesars.

1200 - Playing the 1-2 $500 max at Caesars. I can't believe how many people buy in short. I am up $200 in a matter of minutes.

1315 - I lose about $75 to Drizz when my KK is cracked by his JJ. He cold calls me with position pre-flop and calls again on the flop of AJx. A on the turn and I check fold face up. He flashes me the JJ.

1415 - I'm in the tourney and get AA and steal the blinds.

1430 - Did I mention that Otis is on my right, MiamiDon is on his right and CC is on my left. I am at Waffles' table. Good god.

1445 - I get AA and steal the blinds

1515 - I get KK, four callers, an A flops and the SB bets out.

1518 - I am so tilted at this point that CC gets me a massage table side. Thanks man. In that kind of way crackheads thank their dealers. I am now addicted to table side massage.

1545 - I bust after getting JJ in against QQ and then 66 against TT. Stupid bloggers.

1600 - I join Maigs and Tool at a 3/6 table. I am way too tilty to play NL. I proceed to run my stack up to $140 and down to $40.

2300 - Still playing 3-6 I have $44 in front of me. I limp with 33 in EP. guy to my left raises, Tool reraises. Before I act the guy to my left asks the dealer how much more he can make it. The dealer tells him $3 more to a total of $12. I tell him no he can't and I pop it to $12. Guy then makes it $15, capping the action, Tool calls and I call. Flop comes 3xx. We cap the flop. The turn is a blank and the river is a blank. All cards are unders and there is a lack of action. I can't get my last $4 in as I bet out an no one will raise me. Tool is happy I won the pot (yeah, right). I think the kid is going to cry. Yes that was a $125 3/6 pot.

2400 - Tool and I mosey to the IP.
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Sunday

0001 - We then go to the MGM for a late night session.

0245 - I get to the IP to play PaiGow.

0430 - I leave the PaiGow table up $100. I do this by pressing my last hand for $75 and hitting.

0445 - I walk into O'Sheay's to see if the food court is open. The only thing in O'Sheay's at this time of the morning is rednecks fighting with white trash. I stare at the floor and make my way to the Aladdin.

0505 - I knock on the door, Tool lets me in.

0510 - Otis unleashes some sort of biological warfare that makes my eyes water. Tool calls the UN to see if weapons inspectors will come investigate.

1100 - Fatburger bitches.

1200 - 3/6 Limit at Ceasars. Ceasars is the nicest poker room on the strip. I avoid playing th 1/2 NL game because I want to book the win and make it to the IP for some drinks.

1500 - Tool and I walk into the IP sportsbook. I get to hang for the last little bit with a dwarf, the least effeminate single straight skinny white man over 30 (LESSSWMO30), Romo Homos, drunken hippies, cool dealers, OK Okies, a princess, AL Fans, a mexican hitman, an Aussie and several others that I am surely forgetting.

1605 - I make sure to say goodbye to everyone I see. I will not be at the next tourney in summer 2007. I won't be there in winter 2007. Debbie Downer doubts that there will be anything beyond. He might be right. So unless you make it to the 'Lou I doubt I will see any of you very soon.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

I think I might stop titling my posts a la the blogfather. They are never as witty as I think they are and usually don't provide much insight into what end up writing about since I usually title a post and then write but ramble into a direction I didn't intend.

F-train
has a great post up. and surprisingly my partner in crime has a post up as well. His post is an homage to a great writer and one of his best friends.

I distinctly remember that winter of 2004. I was at Tool's for homegames all the time. He was twisting my arm trying to get me to go to Vegas. I had no way to get there. The trip was a mere two weeks before my son was due and I am not that good of a salesman. The wife was fully preggers and completely uncomfortable. She needed a lot of help as she was still working 40-60 hours a week and exhausted doesn't begin to describe her state of being.

I have only seen her more tired one time. While on her oncology rotation as an intern she was eating dinner on a tv tray while watching tv. She fell alseep sitting up while chewing food. I had to wake her up because I thought she might choke to death.

So anyway, no vegas for me in the December of 2004. Instead I was rewarded with the cutest, most lovable thing known to man. After the holidays homegames continued and I was regaled with tales of final tables, drunken color-blind hippies, solo ragers and of whiplash prop bets/drinking games.

So a a couple of months after the WPBT Inaugural Winter Classic, my friends told me about the plans for the upcoming June event. They gave me a set of instructions. First, start this thing. Next, email this guy. I had a blast. Sure enough, it happened again in December and then again this past July, and now its December all over again.

I can't keep up this pace.

I probably only have one Vegas trip in me next year. That trip is reserved for a very special episode of Blossom drunken bachelor party. When are you going to set the date for that anyway? My daughter is set to be born around the first of April. That eliminates two trips between April and September. Then, knowing who is invited I am expecting that the party will be at the end of August, beginning of September, making two trips in four months unlikely so December is out. I was optimistic that this bachelor party might mean three vegas trips, but it will really mean just one.

I have retired from the ranks of professional drinkers. I turned that card in officially on New Years Eve 2003. That was the New Year's party that my friend Troy opened up his bar for all his friends and let me play bartender. Anyone who witnessed the carnage said it was like D-Day for drinkers. I spread the bodies across the floor. On girl laid on her back and puked straight into the air. My wife puked multiple times on the first and second floor. Someone actually made it outside to puke in the gutter. I passed out on a couch and puked all down my front and side.

Troy closed that bar and opened another within days of New Years.

So I might be drunk, but I have not desire to hang with the big dogs. Just like I wouldn't play heads up with Phil Ivey, I won't go drink for drink with Al, STB or any of the other pros. I will stand back and laugh as drunken dwarfs make fun of pink shirted cowboys and their bra-less girlfriends. I will also watch out for flying escalators. And douchebags min raising pocket aces.
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The wife flys to Texas today. She has to take her board examination tomorrow morning. She is stressed, I am stressed, the kid is stressed. Its the freaking stress olympics around here. The past couple of months and especially the last two weeks have been long a drawn out. Hopefully her test goes well and I survive Vegas so we can enjoy a holiday/birthday season of joy. The boy turns 2 the day after xmas so we have lots to celebrate.
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I am thinking of preparing beef instead of turkey or ham for holiday dinner. I have never done a roasted tenderloin, but I am looking forward to the challenge. I did a ham last year and the year before. I am tempted to bust out the turkey fryer either way. Yes I am that guy. The one that drinks beer and fries turkeys. It is now December and at no time during the past 12 months did I fire up the charcoal grill. Between the move and other stuff there was never time. Besides, the new house has an electric grill built into the cooktop, so its not like I didn't grill, I just didn't do it properly. And no, if you think you are superior because you have a gas grill, you are wrong. Gas grills are for punks.
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Monday, December 04, 2006

Ice Storm

If you live under a rock you might not have heard that we in St. Louis have been having one hell of a time recovering from last Thursday's ice storm. As of today 150,000 people in the metro STL area are still without power. We hosted a family of four for 2 nights at our place because they had no power. As I predicted on Thursday in a girliesque chat, a few people have died of carbon monoxide poisoning due to charcoal fires or gas generators being used indoors.

The ice was 1.5 to 2 inches thick. As I drove to work today some asshat hadn't cleared off the roof of his car. As he hurled down the highway at 60 MPH a sheet of 4x4 ft, 2 inch thick ice came loose and flew through the air. Luckily I was a safe 200 feet behind. It was a spectacular site to behold.

As a tribute to the Ice Storm I give you this piece of funky goodness:

Yo VIP let's kick it

Ice ice baby (x2)
All right stop collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop yo I don't know
Turn off the lights and I'll glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle
Dance go rush to the speaker that booms
I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it you better gain weight
You better hit bull's eye the kid don't play
If there was a problem yo I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it

Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla

Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in and the vegas are pumpin'
Quick to the point to the point no faking
I'm cooking MC's like a pound of bacon
Burning them if you ain't quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi-hat with a souped up tempo
I'm on a roll and it's time to go solo
Rollin' in my 5.0
With my rag-top down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby waving just to say hi
Did you stop no I just drove by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and I'm heading to the next block
The block was dead
Yo so I continued to A1A Beachfront Avenue
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis
Jealous 'cause I'm out getting mine
Shay with a guage and Vanilla with a nine
Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because they're so full of eight balls
Gunshots rang out like a bell
I grabbed my nine all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car slammed on the gas
Bumpet to bumper the avenue's packed
I'm trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene you know what I mean
They passed me up confronted all the dope fiends
If there was a problem yo I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it

Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla

Take heed 'cause I'm a lyrical poet
Miami's on the scene just in case you didn't know it
My town that created all the bass sound
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground
'Cause my style's like a chemical spill
Feasible rhymes that you can vision and feel
Conducted and formed
This is a hell of a concept
We make it hype and you want to step with this
Shay plays on the fade slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast other DJs say damn
If my rhyme was a drug I'd sell it by the gram
Keep my composure when it's time to get loose
Magnetized by the mic while I kick my juice
If there was a problem yo I'll solve it
Check out the hook while Shay revolves it

Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby (oh-oh) vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla ice
Yo man let's get out of here
Word to your mother
Ice ice baby too cold
Ice ice baby too cold too cold (x2)
Ice ice baby

Sunday, December 03, 2006