Seriously.

Seriously.

I've been home for several weeks now. My car broke down on the way back from California, conveniently not far from home (several hours to the west), so I've been searching for a new wheel on the internet to replace one that was damaged on the trip. Dealerships were quoting me over $1k, and I managed to find a used rim on ebay for $80. Hot damn.

Other than that, I've been reading, programming, golfing, watching crappy movies... and sleeping. Oh, poker too. My family is doing well, my brother just got engaged and bought a house, and my sister is finally pregnant so at last I'll get to be an Uncle.

I'm getting my passport and plan on hitting Europe soon, possibly with Pat Carter in Nov./Dec. After that I'm planning on heading out to D.C. to settle down for a while and get an actual honest job. We'll see if I stick to that resolution...

My grandmother just passed away. We had our parish priest baptise her the other day, so that's good. She was agnostic her whole life, as far as I know. Her birthday was tomorrow, how weird. Say a prayer for her soul and our family.

...

I had a nice long post written out, and blogger ate it. So. To summarize.

Very bored, eating a lot, not playing as much poker as I'd like but have been doing ok, I bought a sweet new laptop, and have otherwise been wasting my time in various unproductive pursuits.

My grandmother made it home to us, but suffered another stroke a few weeks ago. The doctor in the intensive care attempted a sort of passive euthenasia without consulting us, by removing her feeding tube, and we only found out several days after he did this. We had her removed to a private nursing facility. She doesn't seem aware of much, and is living off artificial support. Say a prayer for our family.

Unless something happens, I'll be flying back to LA on January 6th.

wher hehro! (very long / self-absorbed)

Thought I'd post and let everyone know I'm doing fine. BD and I went down to Commerce on Saturday night, and I caught a free shuttle to LAX in the morning. The flights were fine, and after hanging out with my brothers in Omaha for a while, I got home to Hastings late Sunday night. A solid 15 hour nap had me back on top of my game and ready for... nothing.

My grandmother just got moved to a nursing home from the hospital, and is in stable condition, though the doctor doesn't think she has much time. Blood clots, etc. I don't like hearing about that kind of thing, so I try not to pry. We're trying to move her into our home, but that requires a bunch of busywork setting up in-home 24hr nursing care and such. Until then, I have vast quanities of free time in which to do nothing. I've already seen every movie under the sun, and I've vowed not to watch television, so that leaves poker. I'm attempting to get a years worth of poker under my belt in the next few months, and build myself a nice fat bankroll to spread about Europe in the Spring when Pat Carter and I head down (up?).

Yikes, I haven't posted in a month. And it has been a pretty eventful month I suppose. Seldom Sober and I spent a good solid week in Vegas, where I passed the time as a local pro at the Bellagio and Wynn 15/30 games. Definately one of the more enjoyable trips in my life. A web forum devoted to poker that Seldom and I both post on was having a get together in Vegas that week, so we got to play with some of the best poker players in the world. It was a real treat sitting with some of them and knowing I was holding my own and then some. It was also incredibly enjoyable getting to run over the local pros, who came to hate "those damn kids who always raise preflop." They have a definate edge over the tourists, but were easy pickings for us kids who play more hands in a month than they will play in a year.

There were a few very good local pros who would kill time waiting for bigger games, and they were real characters to. My favorite was a little old asian guy everyone called 'Hustler', since he wore a hat with the word Hustler on it. He could read hands like no one I've ever seen, both from knowing peoples playing styles, and then refining that knowledge by reading their physical tells. He would call out hands cold to me under his breath when we were sitting out, and sure enough. I'd have a few down too, but yikes. The Dragon turned out to be my main nemesis. He was a visiting Swedish pro who wore snappy dark suits and white sneakers, with a black hat with golden dragons embroidered on it and dark sunglasses. Very WPT. He definately knew what he was doing though, and the few battles we got into were usually very interesting. I think I ended up getting the best of him in the long run, but probably due to luck.

Rich and I together probably slept 10-15 hours the six days we were there, and most of that time was spent at the tables. I logged around 100 hours of live poker while there. My earn rate was around $35/hr, and I was running way hotter than that, so you can guess how I did.

A rich millionaire from Florida was sitting at our tables frequently, and we got to know him pretty well. He left the same day that I did, and told me he'd stake me in any big tournament I wanted to play in, and even to stake me in a local $80/$160 game in his hometown. He bragged to everyone at the tables that all of my winnings came from him; quite a stretch, but he did dump a few chips off to me. He was there for the entirety of one of my monster sessions, where I ran up almost 200BBs. I have a few pictures, which I'll post below. A great guy though. So if he's still willing come July, I'm on for the World Series baby. So theoretically I made another $10k on top of my other earnings. Hot damn.

Other than live poker at the Player's Club and Commerce, nothing much else happened. Both of my cars were down at the same time, again. I got them both fixed before I left, when I don't need them anymore. Meh. I took a shot at the Commerce $20/$40 the Wednesday before I left, and yikes. You really have to be callused to the value of your money when playing that game. I dropped over $3k in ten hours before going on a tear and making it back with a little interest. I don't think I'm emotionally ready for those stakes, but the next highest game Commerce spreads feels like a kiddy pool. I guess I'll man up, because it's definately a good game. God bless and help the asians.

I suppose I'll post on here fairly frequently, not that I'll have much to say, but it's six in the morning and I'm finally feeling tired. I'll leave you with one of the better tales from the Vegas trip.

Rich and I had been playing all night at the Wynn, and headed up to the room of one of his friends. Everyone there was crashed out, and we weren't tired, so we headed down to the bar at the sportsbook, and spent the next few hours drinking, chatting with Max the bartender, and playing video poker. Very sleep deprived and drunk, we got it into our heads to go play low limit poker at the Ghetto Castle, so we caught a taxi at six in the morning. There were only three tables running, two 2-6 spread limit games and a $200 max buy-in NL game. Rich sat at the limit, and I bought into the NL game.

Everyone at the table looked at me with obvious delight; an incredibly drunk college boy with a nice stack of chips! Easy monies. I posted in mid-position (a clear tip off that I had no idea how to play), and looked down to see pocket kings. I pretended to squint really hard at them, then grabbed a stack of five dollar chips and hurled them into the middle of the table, glaring at everyone like you might see on the televisions. A quiet looking construction worker in late position thought for a minute before calling, as did the guy on the button. Everyone else folded, and we saw a flop of Kxx (ding ding). I did my squint/glare at the flop (which wasn't entirely faked, things were pretty blurry), then grabbed another stack of reds and threw them out. The MP guy took his sweet time thinking, then called. The guy on the button quickly moved all-in, and I smiled and called. So did construction worker. All of our chips went into the middle, and I turned over my set of kings to see AK from construction worker, and AA from the button. Hiiiya, ship it.

After an hour or so I wasn't really faking anything though, and the waitress cut me off. In Vegas. At the Ghetto Castle. I got. Cut off. From alchohol. WTF kind of a place is this. So I told everyone it was my last hand (since I was UTG and the blinds were coming next). I raised to $30 blind, and got one caller in late position. I looked down to see KJo, and a flop of K10x. I threw out another stack of reds, and lp called. I checked the turn blind, and another blank came off. He bet out $30 or so, and I called. The river came a Q, and I bet out around $50. He thought for a few seconds, then went all-in. I called, and beat his weak kicker king to drag another huge pot. Everyone at the table was glaring at me by this point, so I felt bad and grabbed a huge fistful of $5 chips and started throwing them at everyone at the table. I am such a fag. Thank you kindhearted Ghetto Castle waitress, you probably saved me a great deal of money. We went back to the Wynn and crashed out for a few hours. I got up and took a shower, and then it was back to the tables.

This story also took place the night after my big monster session, of which here are some pictures:

Rich took this picture the night before we left for Vegas at Commerce.























Obviously trying to continue a theme, here at the Wynn halfway through the session...























And here near the end...























Each time I started out with 6 stacks of red. The money in the bottom two photos came from people buying stacks off of me. You can't take money you've won off the table until you leave, so you have to keep it with your chips. Not everyone displays their benjamins as ostentaciously as this though. Can you blame me? Stacking messloads of chips is the greatest joy of live poker.

Boo

Hoo

Sigh.

...Anyways.

It was the Player's Club, even though it didn't rain. I played my first live hands of Big O and Cr/Lazy Pineapple, hi/lo split style at the $3/$6 dealer's choice table. You thought Omaha was fun, try playing Omaha with five hole cards. I dropped $100 before getting called to the hold'em game, and considered myself lucky at that. gamb00l.

The regulars are very regular, the same crowd is there every time I come. A very odd assortment of retirees, young asians and toughneck white boys (who as I gather are all part of the local boxing scene), middle-aged businessmen, and a few colorful women. The dealers often cycle into the games inbetween downs, or take over hands for friends taking a smoke. It's a nice chance of pace from the Badbeat Jackpot asian madhouse that is Commerce. I only have a few stories from this place so far, it's more tame than the mix of people could lead you to believe... I haven't had my life threatened, nor watched someone attempt to urinate on a dealer. It really doesn't feel like live poker.

Also, you really get to know the playing styles of your opponents when they're so few and regular. One particular asian guy plays fairly straightforward ABC poker, until he's stuck, and then he gamb00ls it up preflop, raising any bet to him on seemingly random hands. I had just seen this guy bust out of the $6/$12 Big O game, and knew he was steaming, when he sat down at my table at the beginning of a kill pot (when the person who won the last pot wins a second time in a row, the stakes are doubled and that player is forced to post a double-sized blind). The kill was on the BB, a new player. Crazian was UTG+1, and I was in MP. UTG limped, Crazian raised, and it was folded to me in MP with KQo. Normally this is a very bad hand to play here against an early position raise, but the players acting after me were not going to call a three-bet in a kill pot without AK, AA KK or QQ, and Crazian had a very wide range of raising hands. So this was one of those few spots where three-betting KQo against an early position raise is clearly superior to folding (and calling the worst of the three). It got folded to the BB kill, who called, as did Crazian. The flop came Q 7 3 rainbow, and it was checked to me. I bet, and both called. The turn was a 9, same story. The river was a 6, again checked to me, and I had an easy bet. The BB called and Crazian folded, the latter tabling pocket tens and everyone at the table started egging me for three-betting KQo. Newbies.

Another guy had absurdly tight raising requirements PF, always QQs, KKs or AAs. I folded JJ to his raise, and sure enough, QQ. That may have been the second time I've folded JJs preflop in a limit game.

Afternooning

My desire to smoke becomes a near compulsion whilst the neighbors are outside fighting. I feel like a moth drawn to a flame. "Mommy, I want a mullet!" etc.

In other news, my brief career as a poker pro nearly came to a screeching halt earlier this month, and I've been more or less on vacation for the last few weeks awaiting word on a few things. Mustang, sensing weekness, decided to throw a tantrum and blow a headgasket. Bitch.

I should have all my account issues solved soon, then I'll be back to the grind. For now, it's daily trips to the Player's Club when I can't fit golf in. Looks like it might rain soon, so I haven't decided what's on tap for today.

Late night auto-biography

A boy wandered aimlessly through the tall grasses of the pasture. A storm was building in the west, towering thunderheads darkening the late evening sky. The warm damp air was thick with the buzzing of insects and the muffled rumblings of distant thunder. Scents of wild-flowers and grass born on the westerly breeze took on a slight tinge of ozone, a promise of things to come. Shivering in anticipation, the boy eagerly made his way to the edge of a nearby pond.

The rotted out remains of a great fallen oak tree lay alongside the bank. As the winds began to pick up, he shed his boots and socks, and clambered onto the trunk. Playfully dipping his feet into the water, he stared off into the distance at the looming stormfront. A hazy wall of rain stretched from ground to clouds, all briefly illumined now and again by arcing flashes of lightning. It reminded the boy of a play, in that short time between scenes when the darkened and curtained stage hides the hurried rearrangements of props and settings.

He began counting the seconds between each thunder-clap as his father had taught him, and reached six-mississippi before the next rolled over the pond. The ground trembled with its violence, and from behind a nearby clump of brush out sprang a large dog. Balancing on one foot atop the log, the boy gazed curiously at the new animal. He quickly realized it was no dog, but a coyote; lank gray hair covering a rail-thin frame, and long muzzeled head capped with large pointed ears. It caught sight of the boy, and it's muzzle opened wide in a snarl, exposing long sharpened teeth. He stood rooted in shock until the next peal of thunder sent the animal bounding back into the tall grass.

The wind gained in fury, the branches of the trees about the pond whipping against one another. The thunder was coming in quick succession now, and flecks of moisture splattered against his face. He dropped back to the ground, and ran up the trail to the dirt road leading to the farm. The increasing violence of the storm spurred him onwards, the rough gravel giving way grudgingly to soft bare feet as he recklessly flew down the road. Thick sheets of rain lashed down on him, thunder boomed in his ears, stabs of lightning blinded him. The tree-lined drive of his home appeared before him, and he crossed into the soft cool grass of the lawn with a leap. His mother stood framed in the doorway of the porch, lit by soft electric light, and hurriedly beckoned him in.

* * *

In the morning, the boy set back out for the pond to recover his socks and shoes. Though this time with much more care, tredding on bruised and swollen feet. The storm had left little mark in passing, and he found the clearing about the pond much as he had left it, save for one tree that had been struck by lightning, huge splinters of wood jutting from it's ruined trunk and angled towards the fallen remains of it's body.

As he gathered his shoes, idly examinging the new sight, he spotted an animal stuck under one of the tree's branches. He made his way to the ruined tree, and tried lifting the branch. It was large, and heavy enough to have killed the animal it covered. To his amazement, it was a coyote. Probably the same one from last night, he thought, dragging the branch aside. The muzzle was again open, but frozen in a rictus of death. He stared in fascination and disgust at it's swollen tongue, grossly lodged between two great canine teeth, and the slash of blood matted hair where the branch had caved in the coyote's chest.

He was suddenly overcome with an urge to tear out the canine teeth of the animal. A friend at school had a necklace laced with two large age yellowed teeth. He wasn't able to boast having collected the them himself, though. The boy reached into his pocket for his clasp-knife. He flicked the blade open, and squatted down beside the ruined animal. Gently prodding the tounge away from it's teeth, he realized that he had no idea what to do. Not pausing to doubt himself, he plunged the tip of the knife into the animal's gumline. In angry embarrasement, he simply hacked away at the bottom of one tooth, leaving a bloody mess of pulpy tissue under his knife. But the tooth would not come.

Stubbornly grabbing it between his fingers, he pulled and yanked, blinking away a sudden rush of tears and swallowing back a spurt of bile. The tooth came out with a sharp pop, and the boy fell back onto the ground. His eyes wandered from the bloody tooth to the ruined maw of the coyote. Getting slowly to his feet and rubbing his sleeved arm against his eyes, he looked around him at the lush tangle of wildflowers surrounding the pond, and the bright clear summer sky. A cool breeze stirred the tops of the trees and sent rolling waves through the tall grass. He gave one last glance at the ruined animal, and cast the tooth into the pond. He bent down to the water to clean the blood from his hands, then gathered his shoes and quietly made his way back up to the road.