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I've been interviewed on recorded media all of three times.
The first time was before my first play in a NYC audience of children and their parents, who thought I was an 18-year-old prodigy because I had a big head (literally). The q&a was videotaped, and I was on the stage with my director, who fielded questions for me more articulately than I ever could have (he later deservedly became artistic director of the Helen Hayes Theatre). When lobbed a difficult question concerning incestual themes in the play, I succumbed to the pressure of the heat from the spotlights, and somehow started rambling about Hitler and how he had a dog who loved him.
The second time was for public radio, talking about my new play that was to be featured in a summer festival in Washington, D.C. I was with my cast, director, and artistic director, and I thought I'd deflect attention on me by asking the actors how it was playing characters in a relationship when they themselves were married. Which meant I accidentally outed them as being husband and wife. Both used different last names and didn't want the theater community to know they were married, for fear of favoritism in casting.
So you can see I'm not the best interview when put on the spot.
The third time was when Pauly suddenly stuck a tape recorder in front of my face and asked how The Hammer began. Here's the only portion of the audio that survived, before the grizzly bear attacked.
§
Joined the Poker Prof and Pauly for an evening of I-talian food, bar booze, and bowling in the basement of Sam's Town. Yes, I said bowling.
The Prof said he'd never bowled before. I said my average score was 80. We both lied. He understated his experience and I exaggerated mine: the Prof was on a league for six years and my average score was actually 60 the last time I played in junior high.
Pauly handicapped himself and we wagered $5 that the better of Poker Prof's and my scores plus 20 points would beat Pauly, who plays better the more he drinks. Just like poker. Our one saving grace was that he had a single SoCo on the rocks, and Poker Prof and I cut him off from any more, wanting to win our bet. Little did I know our secret weapon was Poker Prof himself, who averages 197.
My score comprised The Hammer -- 7s and 2s abounded -- with a sprinkling of Xs for Pauly and the Prof. The Prof almost made three strikes in a row, apparently called the Turkey. Four strikes in a row is called the Phil Hellmuth. Too bad, because I was looking forward to seeing a cartoon turkey on the bowling screen, which is all computerized and animated these days, far improving on the technology of a scoresheet and pencil when I last bowled the time FDR was in office.
Thanks to the Prof's high score, we soundly beat Pauly in the first game, then went double-or-nothing in the second. Prof was so good he bowled backwards with his left hand and still effortlessly rolled strikes.
Pauly's style of bouncing the ball midway down the alley worked intially but ultimately cost him pins toward the end when he suffered two-outers and bad beats of a single pin refusing to fall.
My lowly first score improved in the second game, enough to edge out Pauly by a few points.
I believe my 50 percent gain was helped by the desire to impress the skanky teenyboppers in the lane next to ours. Sloppy exposed midriffs and facial zits in the shape of Australia notwithstanding, they were the best looking females in the place.
Being terribly out of shape, the three of us sucked on our ailing thumbs from the casualty of bowling as we hailed the escalator back up to the reality of the casino. My left ass cheek was also wounded from taking a tumble on the lane after releasing a gutter ball and experiencing people pointing at me and laughing.
Pauly and I then retired to Sunset Station to get in a couple hours of 3/6/9 with only two tables running. I was up $50 and should've just racked and left because I bled off that $50 plus $40. I crawled back to even and decided to cash out in order to lock in an even session. I haven't had a winning session since the Aladdin last Thursday, so I'm fooling the poker gods into thinking losing time is over with last night's even-steven session.
Afterwards, I put my $15 freeplay on one hand of blackjack and lost. To console my constant losses on these freeplay coupons, Pauly bought me a milkshake at 24-hour Fatburger, served by a scraggly clerk who said she had 10 kids and made the best shakes in town. I asked for a half/chocolate, half/strawberry concoction that wasn't on the menu. She was nice enough that Pauly tipped her well despite getting his order wrong and adding whipped cream to mine.
On the drive back, we took turns yelling "SHAYLA" after spotting a personalized license plate in front of us. Pauly's intermediate-sized rental car challenged a red Corvette to a drag racing match down the long strip of St. Rose Parkway, but the Corvette wussed out. As we passed him, we rolled down the windows and yelled "SHAYLA!" before speeding off into the starlit night.
For our next challenge, we've selected miniature golf, where Poker Prof and I will team up against Pauly to go triple or nothing. We tastelessly joked about hiring kid victims from the Tsunami to be our caddies, but thought better of it when subjecting them to possible flashbacks while retrieving golf balls from the wave pool.
— —
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Hammer, can you hear me?
Time for a little Hammer contest, brought to you by Full Tilt, the jersey of which I'm wearing right now with nothing underneath.
I've doctored the file to mask the person's true identity and have added music in the background.
First person who guesses correctly will win a trip into grubby's scary prize closet, containing a plethora of casino gifts. You can pick one of the following to add to your own closet: shower radio, beach bag, travel bag, multi-angling fan, salad serving bowl, set of two salad bowls, mystery gift from Sahara (gift-wrapped and unopened), Barber in a Box, flashlight with toolkit, hardware caddy with over 600 pieces, March Madness 2005 short-sleeved Polo shirt + matching visor, picnic cooler bag, duffel bag, set of two color-changing mugs, two-piece Fondini pen set, set of two Motorola Talkabout walkie-talkies, set of six small wine glasses, appetizer serving platter, ESPN Zone travel bag, or fruit bowl. More will be added on a weekly basis (unfortunately).
First person who guesses the composer of the music will also win one of the above prizes.
If you're the first person to guess both correctly, you get two of the prizes plus I'll buy you something with my Amazon gift certificate, up to $25.
If no one's guessed correctly by Dec. 7 (right before the next WPBT), a random winner will be drawn from all entries.
Bellagio was the first cardroom I ever played live, so though I have a certain fondness for it and the 7-card-stud days of yore, I like it less and less the more I go.
Play is aggressive, which is fine. But surly dealers, tables without cupholders, and constantly being shoved by people walking behind me isn't my idea of a good time.
Wynn took the Bellagio design and transferred it to his casino, which is also why I tend not to play there. It's no fun being bumped in your swivel chair every minute as players, dealers, and cocktail waitresses try to squeeze by. Bellagio's poker room cocktail waitresses are also dressed the most unattractively out of all poker rooms in some kind of understated cheerleader sweater outfit as dated as a Hooters girl. That's one area Wynn vastly improved -- their poker cocktail waitresses are the best looking.
But boy howdy do I like Bellagio's strawberry juliuses (complete with fresh strawberry skewered into the glass rim), which no other casino comes close to. They also look like daquiris or margaritas, which helps in table image to have a nice alcohol-looking tropical drink in front of you.
The NL game was out of my league, with most players over $500 with a $200 buy-in and at least one person with $2000 running the table. Blinds were 2/5, which I like much more than 1/2, but flops weren't seen without a minimum 3x raise.
Earlier at a good NL Green Valley Ranch game, I lost my first buy-in ($200) to other people's lucky catches, primarily QQ vs. KJ and 10-10 vs. A10 (I made my standard $15 raise preflop each time), both their key cards rivering. My mistake was perhaps not pushing on the flop or turn (uncoordinated rags on both), but I thought betting the pot each time was enough at heads-up. I rebought $200 and after a few orbits raised $20 with my first AA of the night. One caller to a flop of A-5-6 (rainbow). I bet the pot, he calls. Turn is a Q. Now I push, hoping he has AK or AQ and interprets my all-in as a scared bluff. He covers me by about $20, says he has to leave soon anyway, and calls with 7-8. Instead, I was the one leaving soon. It consistently surprises me how NL really isn't any different from limit, because people still won't give up draws.
Again, perhaps I should have bet more on the flop and I'm doubting my plays here. I'm satisifed with how I played the hands (though dissatisfied with the end result, of course), but wondering if I'm simply in denial and if I could have done anything differently. If I had to do it again, I'd play the hands the same way. I do want to maximize my winnings, not waste premium hands, and not simply pick up $3 blinds and $2 limpers... or do I? I see some people raising all-in preflop, everyone folds, and then tabling AA or KK. Sure, a small win is better than a big loss, but certainly AA and KK are worth more than $3, eh?
After lackluster results at GVR, I mostly wanted to relax at Bellagio and watch the final table of the WPT on live closed circuit TV while sipping strawberry juliuses, so I sat in a 4/8 that was friendly, tourist-heavy, and bluff-aggressive.
As for cards, I was completely dead so it was good to have the WPT to watch and cheer for certain players. The blinds of 2/4 (most 4/8 tables in Vegas have 1/2 blinds) eroded my $200 buy-in over the course of four hours.
It was the first time I've sat at a table with more women than men at a 5:4 ratio. Play resembled how games are in the Los Angeles card barns. I noticed here more than other places, people were unafraid of flush possibilities. More often than not, they were correct that a caller or two did not have it. Many times they would even check-raise. I don't check-raise as often as I should because I'm afraid it'll be checked through.
One woman had at least two cell phones that kept ringing from her purse. She took about five calls every orbit, thanks to Bellagio's nonrule that you're able to talk on the phone at the table. I suspected she was operating an escort business, as she was taking names and numbers and speaking in different languages. Meanwhile, she won every pot she was involved in while on the phone.
She was probably on the Friends and Family plan, but she kept all the phones.
I should have asked for her provider, because my piddly Cingular plan gets zero bars at home and at Bellagio. Not good, if I'm going to set up my own escort massage service.
A guy who was in the WPT audience for 6 1/2 hours sat to my left and got AK, AK, KK, AA and AA within 15 minutes. All but the first AK held up.
Most of my hands contained a 2 or a 3. My final hand was KK and I suppose ironic enough that I lost to 23s. I still can't bring myself to play 23, suited or not, even though in low-limit games there's a value in playing any suited cards.
Called roommate Pauly to see if he was still haunting the Fontana, but he was already back at the apartment. I headed back but made a pitstop at Ellis Island, drowning my beats in the $4.95 steak sirloin special (they were out of baked potatoes).
§
On Saturday, met up with Carla and Lisa at Mandalay Bay. Lisa's still learning, so we sat at 2/4. Talk about a killer game -- if I thought the beats were bad at 4/8, they're even worse at 2/4. Loose-passive, with at least seven players to a flop and rarely anyone but Carla and me doing the preflop raising which became value bets because no one dropped.
I won one hand early on, then lost every hand thereafter. AK twice, 10-10 twice, QQ, KK all fell. Some I was able to escape on the flop. Every time I'd fold or muck, a guy who seemed to be after me said to his neighbor, "I knew he didn't have anything."
Played loose as a moose but couldn't get even those hands to hold up. Suited and unsuited connectors, suited gaps like J8s and any suited A or K (I can't bear to play Q2s). Nothing hit, not even a possible draw, as I mostly missed flops completely.
My penultimate hand was K4o in the blind (one blind in 2/4 at Mandalay). K-4-8 flop. 4 turn. 8 river. After I'm raised and then reraised, I let it go. Two brothers from Israel went after each other with about 10 reraises. One flipped Q8. The other flipped K8.
My final hand was QQ, which lost to the guy who always called me. He had A6 and got his Ace.
I wasn't too upset because I expected bad play, but I was hoping for a bit more luck and maybe another winning hand. One guy made quad 8s on the turn for a $164 high hand jackpot and didn't tip the dealer. I tried to help the dealer by being extra loud in congratulations to the player and in loudly asking the dealer how much people tend to tip on jackpots. But the player didn't pick up on the hints, so I dropped it.
I did enjoy seeing AA and KK cracked by Q3o (I had neither the AA nor KK).
Carla also lost her buy-in.
Lisa, on the other hand, won $6.50. The best part was watching men fawn all over her. She came to the table dressed up for a Saturday night, with glossy lips, low-cut top, and sassy shoes. The dealer kept asking for her phone number, and I finally said I'd give him a hint since he didn't get a jackpot tip: it starts with 702 (the area code for all of Las Vegas).
After his down, he returned and slid her his business card. Tenacious, that dealer. I should've told him 702-386-5397.
§
Sunday was Excalibur day. Pauly and I joined a fun 2/6 table, intent on spinning the wheel. Four people spun with quads or cracked Aces. A white chip was passed around that had a smiley face sticker on it. Pauly used it to cap his stack, and I laughed whenever I saw it.
An easily tiltable guy to my right was new to poker but not new to the attitude. He had the WPT image down and when he suffered a beat, he pitched a fit and said, "What were you calling? That was the worst play I've ever seen." The guy who put the beat on him offered to give him lessons and asked him how long he'd been playing poker. He said three years and that he was 21.
I always lie whenever asked this question at the table. I usually say I'm just learning or I saw it on TV last week and wanted to try. I'll also say I'm 18 years old. It doesn't do any good to be perceived as a tight player unless I can use that to an advantage (which generally only works against other tight players). I also won't say that I'm a local, saying I'm from DC when asked. It doesn't get anywhere near the lies I tell at strip clubs, which are all completely false, but that's more a creative outlet.
Unlike the last time we played, this time was for real. No prop betting on the color of the wheel spins, no banter, no tilting players with obnoxious behavior. I overheard a guy two seats to my left say that I'm a good player, that I don't make loose calls. Which meant it was time to mix up my play, bluffing a $6 raise on limpers and using my image to get them to fold.
I began to play it up a little, tipping the dealer in advance for a good hand. Then tipping again for a wheel spin.
After Pauly left, a guy replaced him and after 10 minutes his wife came running into the room, excited that she'd won $45,000 in slots. I can't even count to 45,000. Shortly after that, the guy's Aces were cracked and he spun the wheel for $70.
To my left was an old local who called everything past the flop. He'd hold his cards in a way that the whole side of the table couldn't help but see them, and I was amazed what he played. Any pair he'd call down (he beat Pauly with 22 and a runner full house to Pauly's flopped straight). Any overcard he'd call to the river. A few times he'd be check-raised and debate whether to laydown 82o with a 2 on the flop. He was down to his last few dollars and had AA cracked, which netted him $120 on the wheel spin. People cheered for him, more because that meant he'd stick around.
The table broke at 3-handed, and I moved to a rollicking 2/10 table (2/2 blinds) where every hand was raised to the max of $10 thanks to three people from San Diego who were bantering it up. Finally got pocket Aces and while I'd slowplay them on 2/6, at 2/10 it wasn't worth it. Someone flopped a straight and I had to call him down in order to spin. The wheel resulted in $40, which was $10 less than my share of the pot. But better than nothing.
As long as San Diego was there, I was committed to playing as long as my ass didn't go numb. Finally left at 6 a.m. when the table broke and I could feel my ass again.
These 2/6 and 2/10 games are probably the best things going in Vegas, and the only unstructured limit games around. Coupled with the double wheel spins, Excalibur's become my poker room of choice.
That's my weekend and I'm sticking to it.
— —
Friday, October 21, 2005
Spending the day with Mr. Aladdin
Yesterday was an all-Aladdin day.
But first rewind to Wednesday, where I stormed the castle with Pauly and BadBlood.
I was playing the 1/3 100NL game at Excalibur and had a table change after people were getting too lucky with Q4s and flopping two pair vs. my AQ. Fortunately I got out on the turn when I put one or both on something higher than a Queen (though I didn't suspect Q4). Turned out I was dead to both and in third -- a guy with AA also lost but at least he got to spin the wheel. He limped with Aces and I raised $15, which was apparently cheap enough to keep in Q4s. Limping with Aces is the right thing to do in limit at Excalibur because you want them cracked to be able to spin the wheel (anywhere from $40 to $600 because wheel spins are still double), but in no-limit, $40 won't make up for much of your loss.
Finally switched to the 2/6 limit table with $100 and decided I was going to mix things up a bit and play for fun instead of play so seriously as if my rent depended on it (umm...). Taking cues from Pauly and BadBlood sitting to my right, that $100 was some good entertainment over the next couple hours.
We were generally being obnoxious and annoying the locals with the white hair. The observant players knew what we were doing; others just thought we were tourists throwing around chips and getting lucky. If they watched, we were always controlling the hand and rarely calling down.
BadBlood lost with The Hammer, and Pauly won with it.
The closest I came was 26o, which I played for free in the blind (only one blind in 2/6). The flop gave me a double-bellybuster that came on the river. I bet the whole way and confounded one of the locals who got up and left.
We made prop bets on the color of the wheel (BadBlood won with his blasted green pick twice in a row), made bad raises (though value raises and semi-bluffs), and jammed the pot, producing odds worth calling practically any gutshot. With some pots in the $100 range, winning one pot would get you even.
My goal was to tilt one of the locals who kept rolling his eyes and complaining his AK didn't hold up. This was a good lesson being on the other side of things, watching in horror and being demoralized as hands don't hold up time and time again. It also helped in working on my table image and switching things on a moment's notice. This makes all the difference in no-limit.
This time, we didn't have to say anything to tilt him (such as "Nice catch" when he hits his hand on the flop or calling people an Internet player, as if that's a bad thing). After losing a few key pots to our dopey hands, he left in disgust and our job was done.
We'd planned to play enough to earn money for a later extracurricular activity at the strip club Sin (which I found out is actually an acronym for Sinfully Intimate Nightclub). Nice thing about Sin is that if you arrive in your own transportation (no taxis or limos), they waive the $20 cover charge. This is because cabbies get kickbacks for taking you to the strip club they're pimping. So you never want to ask a cabbie to recommend a strip club, because they'll lead you to whomever is lining their pockets.
'Course, playing loose-aggressive ultimately makes you a loser if everyone calls you down, and we were all losers.
That didn't prevent us from attending a strip club anyway, but that's a later post on its own. This is just a poker post, so onto the Aladdin.
§
BadBlood's already in the 1/2 NL game waiting to play the 1 p.m. tournament, and I join him.
BadBlood announces to the table, "Uh oh, poker shark's here." I take out my hippo card protector and say, "No shark, just hippo."
The first hand I play I get The Hammer, which I never play unless a blogger's at the table. I look at him, but he's in negotiations with a cocktail waitress.
I raise $15 and get a caller. The flop is 7-2-K. The turn is a 2. River is blank.
He called me down $15 each time and angrily flips KJ. 'Course, AK or KQ would've taken him down too.
First time I've won with The Hammer, and I slapped that 72o on the table proudly, hoping they've now revised their perception of me. And it works perfectly moments later when I get a big hand and am called down with a lesser hand.
In half an hour I make $100, enough to pay for the tourney buy-in ($60).
$60 for T2000 chips (they assume everyone is taking the dealer's add-on) and $40 for T2000 more chips.
Aladdin is the only room I know of that allows you to rebuy and then re-enter as a new player (with the option of a rebuy again) as many times as you want within the first hour. One guy was a new player twice more and rebought twice more. The dealer said someone previously re-entered three times and ended up winning the tourney.
Dealers were much better than the last time I'd played. The players were about the same.
BadBlood and I made a last-longer bet of $20 with the stipulation that if one of us gets top 3, then that person would owe $20 to the one who was knocked out first.
These prop bets help me because though it doesn't prevent me from making moves, it prevents me from calling a big bet (such as a raise preflop, a flop of rags, a big bet, and me with 10-10... a dangerous hand that I let go). I don't mind busting out of the tourney without cashing, but the last-longer bet with BadBlood makes outlasting him more important than how I do in the tourney.
A strange hand happened after I'd doubled-up, and it was a hand that dealers and players were talking about the rest of the tournament and day.
Blinds are still early at T100/200. Many limpers to me and from the Button, I push with T4000. I have 55 and am hoping to grab the blinds and limpers. I don't anticipate a call and I still have my rebuy card (another T2000) just in case.
It's folded to the guy on my right, George from Grenada Hills who worked on Prince's plumbing. He debates whether to call me, saying, "They say this is a good hand." I say, "What, 9-5?" (referencing another hand he wished he had played when he would've flopped a full house). He thinks and thinks, then mucks face up... AA.
Everyone at the table gasps. The dealer says, "Holy shit."
I simply nod and muck my cards. 'Course, I wasn't able to say, "Good fold," but I considered it.
George said that if this were a cash game, he'd call instantly. Me, there's only one time I'd fold AA and that's close to the bubble of a cash-heavy tournament with multiple people all-in at the table.
Earlier, George called a woman's QQ raise with 7-10o. The flop gave him a gutshot draw. When QQ pushed, George called the all-in and caught.
He'll call an all-in with a gutshot draw but not AA preflop?
Very odd play, and George said he's been playing hold'em for 20 years and is thankful for the TV coverage because now his friends finally know how to play. He teaches them but they don't listen to what he says.
No doubt.
I'm moved to BadBlood's table in time to see him take down a sizeable pot. Unfortunately, the chip leader at the table outstacks everyone combined and is able to steal often. I make three all-in moves and snatch the blinds and am then moved to another table.
BadBlood taps me on the shoulder and gives me $20, sadly out of the tournament. It would've been fun if we both lasted to the final table.
With the last-longer bet out of the way, I found my play didn't change to reckless. I was still patient despite cards not coming, but made moves on people who were playing tighter to advance to the money. Thing was, they weren't going to last by waiting for premium hands and ended up being blinded out. Many, many people had stacks less than 5x the blinds.
I'm shortstacked at about 7x (I rarely like to get beneath 10x, but I figured I was still average) the whole way but am able to collect enough blinds per orbit to keep me going.
Once at the final table, we each ponied up $20 to save 9th and 10th ($100 each) since only the top 8 paid.
The excellent doughnuts and chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies were also brought out. I had two and used the nonchalance of eating the cookie while moving all-in as a hopeful tell that I had something strong.
I was shortest stack at the table with 2x the blinds, so I had nothing to lose. When someone pushed in late position, I called with 9-10 diamonds to his AQo. The flop gave me a 10, the river gave a straight.
My final hand I was no longer shortest stack, but still in the running. I pick up AQs one from the cutoff and push with it thinking I'd get no callers. A woman from the SB who was getting lucky in practically every hand, called. And so did the BB.
The woman had AK, the man had AQ, and an Ace flopped. No Q, and I came in 8th and he was out in 7th.
After tipping, 8th was enough to refund double my buy-in (I never took the rebuy). I know I could've held out for another couple levels, but I'm always shooting for first.
§
Had a $10 free slotplay at The Palms and a $50 free table play still to use at Palace Station, but wanted to avoid rush hour traffic, so waited out traffic in NL.
After the first orbit, I get JQs and limp on the Button with most of the table. This would have been a stealing hand, but I didn't have a feel for the table yet.
The flop is 9-10-K (rainbow).
A flopped straight and I'm on the button. I'm already counting the money.
It's checked to me and I make the mistake of checking. I figured I could give one free card hoping someone would catch.
Turn is a harmless 3.
Chip leader at about $800 (4x my stack) bets $10. Three people call him.
I now raise to $50 and only the chip leader calls.
River is a 3 and he bets $15.
I raise $50.
I think about him flopping a set but I don't put him on that because he would've raised preflop. He says, "Well, if I'm in for $50, I might as well be in for all of it... all-in."
He's in the blinds and I put him on a 3. Maybe A-3.
The $15 bet was tricky enough that I still thought I was good.
I have a bit under $100 left and call. When he flips his cards immediately, I knew I was beat. He had K-3.
Thinking through the hand again, I think it would've played out the same way had I bet the flop. I would've bet $10 or $15 and he would've called because my Button bet would've seemed I was going for a steal. Then he would've stayed in with two pair.
If the flop had a flush draw, I would've bet. But I really thought one more card wouldn't hurt.
I should've bet the flop.
I stick around and slowly grind back up to even plus $100.
The main hand was one where I won with runner-runner against three other players.
It's raised to $7 and I call $5 more with A 7.
Four other people call to see a flop of 4-6-3 (two ).
Flush and gutshot draw.
I bet $10 and the raiser goes all-in for $44 more.
If we were heads-up, I would have folded.
But two other people call. Now I was getting odds.
I consider pushing here to get heads-up. I'm still not sure what would've been the proper move. I simply call for $34 more.
The turn is a 7. Both callers check to me.
I don't put them on a straight now, because unless they're planning to check-raise, they would've bet. Particularly because they both had less than $70 left.
I figure the only card that can help me is another .
But I also wanted to represent something big, like a set. Regardless, I wanted them out of the hand.
I push for $100, covering the other two's stacks.
Surprisingly, both call.
The river is an Ace.
Original raiser shows QQ. One caller shows 46 for two pair. The other caller shows 67 for two pair.
And I drag a huge pot and knock out three people.
I got lucky for a change because I called based on odds when I normally would've just let go of the hand on the flop.
But I could just have easily lost. I feel uncomfortable calling a big bet based on a draw, but maybe I need to do that more often.
§
After bleeding off $50 or more on top pair/top kickers (which I let go when raised big), I move to BadBlood's 3/6 table.
We create a new twist on hold'em called Vegas Hold'em, where if you get to heads-up, you can each pick one card of the other player's to turn over. The rest of the hand then plays out as if 5-card-stud using the community cards. Maybe Stud Hold'em?
We were successful in getting one other person to play along, but others wouldn't go for it.
Had a blast playing the 3/6. I put a beat on BadBlood, then he put one on me against my KK. Both times we had a bluffing calling station in between us. He had odds to call the flop of 9-10-Q and got his J. He bet out on the Jack and I knew he had AK. The only trick I had was to tell the dealer to pair the board, which he did by laying down a 10 on the river. That got BadBlood to check the river, and I could've checked back but I bet. The pot was way too big to not call, and he did indeed have AK. It would've been interesting to see this play out in no-limit, and we chatted about it a bit to see if I could've taken him off the straight.
After drinking a pina colada that messed up my insides, I ran off at exactly even to collect my freeplays.
§
The Palms was $10 and I played the loose Deuces Wild machines by the main entrance. Cashed out $35 and headed to Palace Station.
Played dreaded blackjack and was up $60, then laid down the $50 freeplay. I almost use that as an excuse to stop playing, and when I lost it (again), I colored up and left.
§
BadBlood made a critical mistake when I returned to Aladdin. I stood behind him waiting to get into the NL again, when there's a raise behind him. He looks to see The Hammer and immediately folds.
I say, "What did you do?!" And he instantly realized his mistake and the power of The Hammer.
Another two callers after him and the flop is A-2-x. Turn is a 7. The winner is Ace with a King kicker and BadBlood would've taken a big pot.
I tell him, "The nice thing about playing The Hammer is that all your outs are still in the deck."
But who in their right mind would call with 72o? That's a raising hand!
I get to no-limit after and get 44 and flop a set in my first hand.
I love monsters early at a table, because people will call down, unsure of whether you're bluffing.
A few hands later I raise $15 with 10-10 and get one caller. Flop gives 10-8-Q. No flush and possible straight draw, but I put him on KQ or AQ. I bet $30 and he calls. Turn is blank and now I really don't want to see a straight card. I bet $100, he calls. I'm worried now, thinking he's been drawing me in with a flopped straight. But he's called down others and bleeds his chips pretty fast on pure draws. He's also a high-limit craps player and has annual trips with 30 of his NY/NJ friends with all rooms and food comped, so he's playing to gamble.
River is a King and I push for $115 more. He calls and shows an unexpected KK. I don't blame him for not letting KK go, but I'm confused why he never once raised. I try to take the $260 loss in stride and file away his play, hoping to get heads-up with him later on.
I rebuy $200 and a couple hands later pick up KK. I raise $15, knowing it would be perceived as a tilt move. Knowing and hoping, because I really do want a call. Knowing and hoping and dreading when an Ace flops. A bet of $30 keeps both callers. Another Ace on the turn helps me, but of the two callers I'm sure one has an Ace. They check to me, I bet $50, am raised, and I fold. He nicely shows AJ. I say to the NY guy, "How come it doesn't work for me?" and we laugh. Tears of a clown, though, I wasn't laughing on the inside.
Very next hand I pick up KK again and smile to the table, "I'll try again," and raise to $20. Now the NY guy calls. The flop is A-10-J. I push here to represent a big Ace, though the push of $85 doesn't matter against the money he won from me, and he immediately calls.
He shows A-3.
Turn is blank but I pick up flush outs in addition to straight outs.
River is a K.
Just desserts.
Alas, doubling up is still half of what I'm into the table for and I had my work cut out for me.
It takes until 3 a.m. before finally getting back to even plus a few extra bucks. Fortunately, the table is friendly and talkative, and it doesn't become a true grind sitting for several hours.
I leave when the table is 5-handed and on the drive home, I'm wishing every day could be like this but I know a losing day is just around the corner.
— —
Monday, October 17, 2005
Rebuilding a bankroll on $5
The job search continues. What I did back east was specialized and proprietary enough geared toward the company that it doesn't translate very well outside.
Entry-level jobs pay minimum wage, which wouldn't cover monthly expenses. I need to find a place willing to train. There's a vocational school offering courses to be a slot technician. To service those confounded machines would be a nice irony and there'd always be a need for people. Too bad the school costs a few grand, with no guarantee of job placement.
Ideally I'd like to find a job which has a uniform. I don't have dressy clothes and I don't want to have to decide what to wear, even if it's casual dress. Silly but practical, since clothes would cost more money. If I had my way and it didn't become smelly, I'd wear the same thing every day. I'm one step away from Howard Hughes' wearing a robe and Kleenex boxes for shoes.
A poker list I belong to was discouraging about becoming a poker dealer. They also said jobs are scarce. This can't be true because poker is still booming, and I see ads seeking dealers (albeit experienced dealers) at MGM-Mirage's job listing database. The people comprising this list are mostly respected members from 2+2 (including Linda Johnson and Jan Fischer, both whom I adore) but there are a few bad apples in the group who are disgruntled about the game and life in general that they're always negative and condescending. This is why I haven't read 2+2 in over a year. "Poorly played on all streets" is just not a constructive comment.
I have Sunday's Review-Journal in front of me, which I'll be combing through over a green chile bagel and cream cheese while looking out the window of pouring rain.
Though I'm hoping to find something by then, if nothing comes by Nov. 10, I'm signed up to attend Microsoft's free seminar launching their new Visual Studio and SQL Server products. I don't know anything about them, but for attending they give you free software and more importantly, a free lunch.
Spent the weekend at Silverton, collecting soap and shampoo for my hotel collection that I horde in my bathroom drawer. At least I can donate something to the Hurricane relief fund.
Also clocked in many hours of poker, thanks to last Monday. None online.
Pauly arrives in a few hours and is staying a couple weeks, so I expect (hope) to be playing every day.
To backtrack a bit, the below is actually from last Monday and the reason why I've been able to play poker again...
Mystery prize waiting at The Palms, which turns out to be a green envelope containing $5. Next mystery prize is Saturday, and if it's the envelopes again, I'll feel around inside the bin until I get to a thick one. Hmm... I just had a flashback to the first girl I kissed.
No complaints by me, though (the five bucks, not the girl).
$10 in slotplay on my player's card, but forget to use it. In collecting my "free" gifts these days, I avoid temptation and do a quick dart in, dart out. (Flashback to that girl again.) I may as well leave the car engine idle outside.
The $10 is good through Thursday, when I also have a coupon for two free Megabucks spins, so I can always return then and perhaps play some poker. I'd planned to skip the Megabucks and use the $10 freeplay, because I hate making another trip to The Palms (hence the poker option), especially when I'm paying them another visit on Saturday for the second mystery gift in a week.
Head to Palace Station to spend 2100 points from my card for the buffet. I have over 130,000 points left, which will keep me embalmed in Station Casino buffets for awhile.
I make two trips to the meat section (roast beef is particularly good, and I love corn on the cob) and on the second trip, snag some kinda strawberry fluffy chiffon pie thing. As Ron & Fez say, "dessert is part of the meal." Also pick up a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a sugar cone, which I walk into the casino with, ignoring the sign that says no food from the buffet can leave the buffet. Some buffet should post, "What happens in the buffet, stays in the buffet."
I tip $1, leaving me $4.
$50 table freeplay and a $10 slot freeplay to use, which has gone way down from what it used to be and isn't even worth bothering making a special trip to take advantage of... 'course, neither is The Palms, but their poker game is better.
I'm excited (if excited is the word) about killing four birds at Palace with the buffet, two freeplays, and poker afterwards.
I think this idea of going out of my way for things stems from childhood. mamagrub would call from work asking what grubette and I wanted from Roy Rogers (strawberry shortcakes, mmmm) and she'd pick it up on the way home. But if we didn't want anything (or if the order was incorrect), she'd come straight home and we'd have to fend for ourselves, which usually meant scraping the burnt spaghetti crust from the bottom of the stainless steel. Once she was home, she was home. Despite a Roy Rogers being two miles away (Wendy's was half that), making a special trip was considered going out of the way. This, however, contrasted with our cheapness of takeout vs. delivery... we never ordered for delivery and would call in an order to pick up ourselves.
Now, whenever I go someplace, I can't just go to that one place. I have to bunch it up with another location or I have to have another activity occur at that one place. This cancels out if I'm meeting someone; then, I feel okay making one trip.
Anyway, it's been a couple months since I've played at Palace and all poker comp dollars expire in 90 days, so I wanted to play a few hands to keep them active.
Here's how comps work at the Station Casinos. Poker comp dollars are separate from your regular comp dollars, redeemed in points (such as the 60ish buffets coming to me). Each hour of poker play earns $1. You can earn up to $7 in a 24-hour period (this part I didn't know about, which invalidated the last time I played 12+ hours straight). You cash out the vouchers in $5 increments, up to $50 per day. The best part of this is you can use the comp at any of the Stations' restaurants... from Subway to Fatburger to Ben & Jerry's to Panda Express to the Grand Cafe to the steakhouses. I have $20.45 at Palace, which I can put toward Sushi & Sake (the best sushi in town) at Green Valley Ranch.
Palace is also running a Monday Night Football promotion, along with drawing tickets if you get a full house or better. This, in addition to $1000 for any royal flush (doesn't have to be called down) and double in-house bad beat jackpot of $20,000 (Aces full of Tens beaten, and everyone in the room shares a minimum of $100).
The poker room is being renovated and its temporary space is in the dealer's break room. I put my name down for 4/8 (no NL running) and wander around.
Walk around the blackjack tables. It's particularly smoky and I can see why some people lug around oxygen tanks, which I think could be profitable for casinos if they rented them out with seat cushions, adult diapers, and a pack of cigarettes. A true casino fun pack!
Sit down at a Hollywood Squares Premier Night penny slot, hit the bonus, and turn the $10 freeplay into $15 that I cash out.
Then move to a brand new WMS machine in the same bank as Password and You Bet Your Life. This one's called Funhouse and it has multiple bonus rounds, though the payouts are less. Sneaky.
Win $10 and move to the old Aristocrat standby Millioniser slots. I prefer Mr. Cashman, but this bank was situated in front of the Rewards Club and it always seems to pay off.
My theory is that the looser slots are positioned in high-traffic areas, particularly where people are waiting in line or walking in a door. The tighter slots are closest to the table games so as not to bother table players with lots of bells and whistles. Of course, tight and loose is all relative because it's based on a number of pulls you'll never see in a lifetime.
Don't hit Millioniser, but the woman next to me does twice.
Things are looking glum till hitting the free spins, and I cash out ahead $15.
Now onto blackjack.
I plop down at first base of a $5 minimum table. Guy next to me hits blackjack twice in a row.
I buy-in for my winnings thus far: $30. The lucky $4 stays in my pocket.
Lose the first three hands, then double-down on A4 against a dealer's 6. The locals at the table take a deep breath, getting ready to curse me out if the dealer doesn't bust, but the dealer busts and we all win.
I wait until the second shuffle is about 2/3 through and the 10-count is high before pulling out my $50 freeplay. I'm about $50 up at this point.
The dealer calls over the pit boss who isn't wearing a nametag. The pit boss takes the coupon and shakes his head. "Uh uh, no good."
"Why not?" I ask.
"It's expired."
He looks again at the valid dates -- Monday, Oct. 10 to Thursday, Oct. 13, 2005.
A pregnant pause.
"It's November," the pit boss says. "No wait, September. No, it's October."
I think the dealer's name is Sybil.
He looks again at the coupon. It still says Monday, Oct. 10 to Thursday, Oct. 13, 2005.
"What's the date?"
"The 9th," Patrick the dealer says.
"Uh uh, no good. This doesn't start until Monday. The 10th."
I just wait to let things register.
"No, it's the 10th," the dealer says.
"Okay, go ahead."
It's bad enough I have a bad feeling sitting down at any blackjack table as it is, but this exchange doubled that feeling.
A $50 freeplay is more than the usual ones I get and is more than any freeplay I've seen anyone sit down with (most are in the $15 range). Still, you would think they would apologize or look for any excuse to say yes to keep me comfortable.
Instead the feeling I had was similar to when pit bosses sweat low-limit tables -- that $50 would break the bank.
My plan is to win and color up immediately to express my dissatisfaction.
I again slide the coupon into the betting circle and bet $5 for the dealer.
I get a 19, dealer shows a 10 and has 20.
I'm $50 up, but out of spite I want to gain another $50 to make up for the failed freeplay. Plus I needed to get to $100 for my 4/8 buy-in ($40 is the minimum, but I want room to breathe).
Yep, the gambler's mentality reared its ugly head. Should've left up but continued to play.
Fortunately, thirty minutes later I add to my winnings and cash out $160 up, $10 of which I tip the dealer.
Palace (like The Palms and Excalibur) annoyingly calls for players throughout the casino's loudspeaker system, and it's often unclear and easy to miss.
My name was apparently called, but I add my name again and wait.
Sit down and play my first hand ($1/2 blinds). I try to do this whenever I first sit down, no matter the cards, so people think I'm eager to play. I'll also post immediately rather than wait for the button. And if I happen to win with trash that I get to show, even better.
I'm in late position and have 5 6.
Flop is A-5-2 (one ).
Checks to me and I bet.
An Asian woman with a nasty attitude calls. The guy after her check-raises.
I call to see one more. If my hand doesn't improve with a backdoor straight or flush draw or two pair/trips, I'm folding on the turn.
Turn is a 5.
The woman checks, and oddly enough so does the guy.
I bet, the woman folds, he calls.
River is blank. Check, I bet, he calls. He says he needed a 3, but I put him on a medium pair and was testing the strength of my Ace.
Saw people slowplaying AK, never a good idea in limit.
Another hand I'm in an unraised BB with K 5.
Flop is Q-x-x (two s).
I bet out, the Asian woman calls.
Turn is x.
I bet, she calls.
River is a Q.
No .
I bet, she folds exasperatedly. I figure she was also on a flush draw, though probably smaller than a King high.
A couple orbits later I'm UTG and get KK.
I raise and the Asian woman says, "Who raised? Him?" She looks at me disdainfully and calls.
Flop is K-5-7 (two s).
I bet and the woman says, "How many players? Just him?" She sneers at me and calls.
Turn is 8. I bet, she calls.
River is 9. Could she really have gone that far with a 6? One way to find out. I bet, she folds.
Out of some sense of courtesy or wanting her to soften her lemon-eating a bit, I show my KK.
She looks at the cards and shrugs, then says, "Your hand no good if heart fall."
Locals aren't known for being very friendly.
Nice to see what I'm up against. And also glad others' draws aren't hitting for a change.
Another woman plays 4 7 in early position and flops a straight flush (regardless of the bad beat jackpot, people would still play these hands).
Unfortunately, I'm in the BB with a flopped pair, a turned straight, and a rivered flush (albeit 8 high).
I bet the whole way and check the river, which she bets.
I know I'm dead to a higher flush, but the pot was too big to lay off one bet. When she shows her cards with a 7 high flush, I think I'm good. I rarely take into account straight flushes, least of all flopped straight flushes.
The grumpy Asian woman switches seats to my left and is being more of a pain. She complains about the large number of raffle tickets in the bin, and I now know she's waiting around until the ticket numbers are called. Players must be playing while tickets are called.
To get back at her, I wait until the table gets shorthanded and right when it gets to five-handed, I rack up and leave. Locals hate playing shorthanded.
As I clock out, I get the satisfaction in seeing the table break completely and the woman being without a table.
$58 in only 30 minutes of play. I should hit and run more often.
End the day with $242, all from a free $5.
— —
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Zombie memories
For anyone who missed Nobel Peace Prize nominee Bono and U2 fill all of Conan O'Brien's show last Thursday, you might be able to find an AVI file somewhere (349 megs).
§
If you haven't signed up to Absolute Poker yet, they're offering a 200 percent bonus (up to $200) until Oct. 16. Bonus code AP200.
I'm shunning online poker for a good long while and ignoring bonuses, but these are the ones I'd do if I were still in the game:
Empire has a 100 percent reload bonus (up to $100) using code PLAYOCT, good until Oct. 14.
Noble has a 50 percent reload (up to $200) through Oct. 15. (Signup bonus is 100 percent up to $700.)
Until Oct. 16, PokerStars is offering a 25 percent reload bonus (up to $150).
You can still take advantage of the reload bonuses if you haven't yet signed up (and you'll get the signup bonuses as well).
Stars doesn't offer bonuses that often, but they monitor when sites like Party drops the ball.
Party's rewriting Internet poker history by severing ties from their skins (while adding blackjack and prop bets to their tables... the only positive addition to this new update is dealmaking for tourneys). This is good news for them, bad news for bonus whores because if you're on one of their skins, you no longer share the Party playerbase and there'll be far less people playing. Which means bonuses will be tougher to clear. (Think that Multi 20x bonus was hard? Try it with a fraction of the players.)
Party became dominant with help from their skins and now they want all their players back. There's also the possibility they'll be offering an inhouse rakeback.
All this makes good business sense for Party; after all, they're in it to make money.
At this point, though, I'd rather buy stock in PartyGaming than play on their site.
§
I've been checking on some plays of mine (theatrical, not poker) for a writing sample to submit to a theater company in LA that performs around Hollywood and on XM Satellite Radio. For no pay, of course... one day I'll figure out something to do that actually makes money.
(You can read three short pieces from Pauly's Truckin' -- see links at left.)
I've never had a show in California, though not for a lack of trying. I've had readings and an interest from a cool cutting-edge theater in Orange County who said they were waiting on scheduling, but no actual productions. For some reason, my shows have been bunched up around the East Coast with the furthest west being Michigan. My usual M.O. for submitting plays was to find places I hadn't been before to give me a reason to visit if the play was selected. This worked particularly well with Nantucket, just a gorgeous island and a great experience that I'd blog about one day if I could remember any of it. (I do, however, recall sitting next to the pilot in a prop plane from Boston and showering outdoors naked with a bunch of Jamaican women watching.)
Especially if I'm jumping back into screenwriting, I'd like to get some CA shows down my gullet and tick the West Coast off my bedpost. Badly mixed metaphors and everything.
Decided to submit the zombie play and while converting from WordPerfect 5.1 for DOS (yeah, old habits), I found some character monologues.
For the callbacks, the director had asked me to write some background monologues for the actors to audition with. I didn't want to do them; I was already doing a rewrite that I didn't think was necessarily better, and I'd expected the normal callbacks to be cold reads from the script.
But I reluctantly wrote them overnight and brought them in.
We had half a day, and upstairs were callbacks to David Mamet's Sexual Perversity in Chicago (which was adapted very loosely into the Demi Moore movie About Last Night...).
The actors knew that play, they didn't know mine. So there were maybe 30 actors sitting on bleachers, facing the director and me, jonesing to get upstairs for a chance at being Bernie, Deborah, Danny, or Joan.
I sunk into my seat when the director told each of the actors to approach us and play with the first line from the script: "I'm going to kick some zombie ass."
The problem (or benefit) was that each actor could see how the previous actor performed and adjust accordingly. If each did the line without prior knowledge, we would probably have gotten nothing but karate chops. Similar to hearing monologues... actors tend to come in with the same one from the same play because they're usually chosen from a monologue book of whatever's popular... we had a lot of monologues from the Paul Rudnick play Jeffrey. If they heard someone use something before, they may change to another one.
So we had a full range of possibilities with the line, including demure, funny, sad, excited, violent, and creepy.
We were on the set of Closer (later adapted into the movie of the same name) and didn't want to disturb anything for that evening's show. But one actor grabbed a chair, placed it against the couch, and leapt from the back of the chair to the couch to the ground while saying the line. I'm still surprised he pulled it off without damaging the set.
Another actor laid prostrate across two chairs, as if he were dead.
Another kicked the chair across the set and almost broke it. He wasn't hired.
Another actor played it so seductively that we were speechless and needed a moment to cool off. She was hired.
It turned into a lot of fun, and loosened them up to read the sides, which we paired them based on chemistry.
The Mike part was given to a big guy who performed the opening of "The A-Team" as his monologue ("If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... the A-Team"). I'd never seen that before, and we all cracked up at the originality and balls to do it, even though there wasn't much acting going on.
We hired the Dennis part right on the spot, because he was the best out of everyone (he was also dual-cast as Bernie in Perversity). We went against type and had him (who looked a bit like Seth Green) play the zombie against Mike, who was much bigger.
Another benefit to hiring sultry Susan was she was a makeup artist, and she designed a kick-ass harness that carried a bloody piece of plywood, along with blood squibs and syringes and bullet holes.
Fun show, even if the audience didn't get that it was a comedy.
Anyway, the whole point of this was that the director never used the monologues.
As I clean out my hard drive, I thought it'd be fun to post them:
MIKE:
Brad Pitt? Yeah, I figure he's okay lookin'. So what? Guys can say that, being the new millen-- milleni-- century, whatever. He's married though. That "Friends" chick, yeah. Don't get me wrong or nothin', I'd bang her six ways sideways to Sunday, but I don't know what he sees in her.
This chick Susan, she's pretty hot. We'll be goin' out on our first date soon. I rescued her. I tell ya, I was thinking ice skating. Now I know what you're thinking, and you can put a stop to it right there, else I'll punch you in the kidney. And not a word to my buds, 'kay?
See, ice skating you got the chick who can skate 'cause they're good at balancing and dancing and feminine crap like that. But the guy, or me, we can't. We're big and clumsy and we fall down... and the chick, she's all sorry that we fell on our ass, and helps us up! A return rescue, see? Get it? Contact.
Now I just gotta pretend, 'cause I'm a damn good ice skater.
SUSAN:
How did I get mixed up in this? My second best ex-best friend Amy was murdered just minutes ago. Not only was she murdered in cold blood but afterwards, like for dessert, her killer was eating her. Literally! I caught him gnawing on her fingers like a corn on the cob. Disgusting. Her nails weren't even real.
So outta nowhere, I hear this gunshot. It's this frat guy Mike from campus, holding his gun, shaking it every which way like he's jerking off. He yells, "Stand back, Susan! I'll protect you" and he fires two more shots, right into the killer's back.
Mike, he's cute in a wife-beating kinda way. But I have a feeling his IQ's about the size of his inseam. He has a major crush on me, but as far as I'm concerned, this Mike guy isn't any better than the killer. But at least Mike didn't eat any of Amy's organ platter.
DENNIS:
Blame Dennis, blame the killer. Killers have feelings, too. Even Jeffrey Dahmer -- may he rest in peace -- Jeffrey had a dog who loved him.
"We can't go out and have fun, we can't afford nice things." All because baby Dennis eats too much. It's not how your parents raised you, it's not how you were born, it's Dennis.
Excuse me, you think it was easy? To admit to your parents that you were different? "Pass the peas, Dad, and by the way, I'm a vegetarian but I enjoy eating people." Well, screw you.
That's what you want me to do, isn't it?
Come on, I saw you eyeing my ass. I've been working out, I've been in the tanning salon. Go ahead, feel it. You wanted to kick some zombie ass, right? I overheard.
Fine. I'm used to it. Barbarian. Cannibal. Shoplifter. Just petty name calling, that's all it is. And for the record, it's spree killer. Not serial killer. There's a difference.
— —
Friday, October 07, 2005
End of the road
I'm a beaten grub. I'm hanging up the poker shoes for the forseeable future, at least until I can find a job. Which had better be within three weeks.
I'll leave you with my final two hands that broke my bankroll. One online and one live. Both fittingly with my nemesis: pocket Aces.
It's not just that hand, though. Of the past 23 SnGs that I played online, I placed 3rd three times, 2nd once, and lost all the others. In each, I really felt I played the best I could. And I consider SnGs my specialty?
So I take my final $400 to NL 6max.
Blinds are $2/4. Win, lose, win lose.
Then I see AA and groan out loud. I raise $25 because I don't play around with AA. One person calls, the same person who's called my raises twice before and has hit on the river. He has 2x my stack.
Flop is rags with three s. I don't have a . I'm first to bet and protect as much as I can by going all-in for $275. Too aggressive? I would not have made this move had it not been heads-up.
Guy pauses for his entire time clock, and I expect him to fold. It's a no-disconnect-protect table, so he can't cheat and disconnect intentionally.
He calls, and I groan again.
Hands aren't flipped until the end (and even then, just the winner), so no suspense. Just upset stomach.
Turn is a Jack.
C'mon, let's get it over with.
No , no , no .
River is a .
His cards: 4-4.
With a .
Thanks, Poker Gods.
He must have put me on a bluff with AK or AQ or overcards, but even so, how could he call that? I could've had any to beat him, for crying out loud.
And I start doubting my play, whether I should have bet smaller or half my stack rather than push all of it, which made it look like a scared bet. But then I think no, even if it were a stone bluff, that bet didn't give him the odds to call.
My stack is $0, my 'roll is $0, goodbye online.
§
I rented DVDs for three days straight to get the AA stink off me.
And also to get inspired for a screenplay, because if I'm going to be taking a break I want to have something to show for it.
Hostage with Bruce Willis, that I enjoyed much, much more than I expected to. It combined too many genres, though, and ended in typical horror (Christlike Crow figure emerging from fire to die for our sins, yada yada). There's a confusing bit at the end with Kevin Pollak's intentions, but if I think about it one way, it works. Bruce Willis gives a terrific performance, a sentence I didn't think I'd ever type.
The Jacket and Constantine with hubba hubba Keira Knightley and Rachel Weisz, respectively. I seem to watch certain movies based on the female stars (except trainwreck Tara Reid in Alone in the Dark, which I saw in spite of her dismal acting -- she ain't no Bruce Willis, that's fer sure). Both of these I also liked much more than I thought I would, based on the trailers in the theater. I watched The Jacket twice and picked up more nuances, but am disappointed that it's the same movie as the classic Jacob's Ladder (which took from An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge), and I would've preferred another ending. So would the filmmakers, it seems, since they attached a few alternates in the DVD extras (however, all of them I believe still point to the same outcome).
Speaking of same movies, I flew to the theater and caught Flightplan, where two key plot points are pulled from (or make homage to) The Lady Vanishes -- the disappearing female on a mode of transporation and the finger drawing on the window as evidence (no spoilers; both are detailed in trailer). Flightplan is a fun romp watching Jodie Foster kick more Panic Room ass, but I wish they'd gone in a different direction. For the plot to work, a series of events had to have unspooled perfectly, which in hindsight falls apart. A better commentary (as well as better conspiratorally) on society would have been if passengers and flight crew see and interact with the daughter, then deny it happening from peer influences.
Crash -- overhyped and overbearing with the overtired race angle, but ultimately redeems itself at the end in a Magnolia kinda way. Really liked Mr. Reese Witherspoon, which led me to The I Inside, a fun little Jacketish amnesia flick without the war overtones. Sandra Bullock's idea of improvising is to preface a line with, "You know what?" I think she's said that in each of her movies. Shoot for that Oscar, Sandy, way to go.
Alone in the Dark,White Noise, and Boogeyman, all three lessons in how not to make a movie. Bad movies on top of jumbled action sequences that are unclear and CGI messes. Alone in the Dark has the added benefit of how not to cast a movie. Listening to the commentary, it was clear the director didn't want Tara Reid in the role and doesn't think she belongs in the action genre. Neither should the director who was mighty proud of his schlocky flick. As was the entire cast and crew of Boogeyman, which just lavishes praise on lack of originality. I did like Emily Deschanel, though, who looks and sounds exactly like sister Zooey, and really doesn't belong in this movie.
Hide and Seek with the Dakota Fanning muppet. I'm no longer impressed by her acting, because she's just a 40-year-old Oscar winner crammed into a 10-year-old body. I wouldn't be surprised if she's entirely a George Lucas CG creation.
The Incredibles and Kung Fu Hustle -- loved every minute of both. Highlights were Dash's little feet running away from the bad guys while coming to realize his true power. And the fat guy throwing knives at the landlady, only to stick 'em into Sing.
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Sunset Station has sadly ceased their Step tournaments, an experiment which never caught on, much like my own full-time poker play the past nine months. A couple times I tried signing up for the $50+5 Step 2 on Tuesdays, but they couldn't fill more than half the table.
Fortunately, they've replaced the Steps with daily Sit-n-Gos at noon and 6 p.m. daily.
Sunset is also pushing to get their NL game to be more popular than it is (where it was only running on the weekend). For this month, they'll buy dinner for the first 10 players at 5 p.m. Okay, so it's dinner at the cafe, but it's still good and there's tableside service.
I visit Sunset to pick up my free gift of a bathroom scale. Like I need a reminder of how much weight I've gained (most of it's water and buffets) since I've moved here, but it's actually a nice addition since I would never buy a scale of my own.
While there, I pass by the poker room and stand at the rail, watching the no-limit table. Floor manager Pete spots me and waves me over, pulling out the empty chair.
I'm out of cash and need to conserve money for my rent, but I did have $300 that was going to go toward food for the next couple months. Rent was just paid for October. November would be a struggle, but I could manage through credit card cash advances. What have I gotten myself into, I keep asking myself.
Pete again motions toward the empty seat, and I relent. I figured if I lost the $300, that would signify the end of my poker career.
I start with a wimpy $100. The max is $300, with blinds $1/3. $100 wouldn't get very far, with every player having more than $100. But I didn't want to risk my full $300 just yet.
The table was typical of what many NL tables have become, where many flops are seen for cheap and the skill lies in post-flop play.
After a couple orbits, it was crystal clear who the tight players were, the loose players, and the bluffers.
The lone woman at the table calls everyone down but never raises, even with the nuts. Twice she catches a better hand and just calls me. Saves me money. Then again, I would've folded to just a minimum raise.
Two other people flop trips vs. my top pair.
Just isn't going well, I'm not catching cards, and I'm down to the felt within 90 minutes.
I'm about to leave and preserve my final $200 when applause breaks out at a 3/6/9 table. My hope of a bad beat jackpot being hit dissolves when I find out someone flopped a royal flush. The September $1000 promotion for a royal is still going on at the Station Casinos, and the guy won the pot plus a grand. Not bad at all.
I decide to play out my last $200. If I lose that, not only am I going home, I'm going home without dessert and without poker for quite awhile. But at least I'll have a scale.
I win a couple small pots without showing (one with AA, which I really wanted to show but didn't).
I lose a couple medium pots with showing.
People continue to limp preflop with big hands. One player in particular limps with AK and AQ. When his cards are flipped at showdown, I'm dumbfounded that he didn't raise and let the blinds and limpers in. AQ held, but AK choked him because his limp enabled someone else to flop two pair with Ace-rag.
I wait patiently for hands, not even calling the extra $2 from the SB with low connectors and big-gap suited cards. Notice someone in MP play 23o, flop trip 2s, and have lots of action and a $500 pot when someone else runners two pair with AQ (and who didn't raise preflop). Someone else flops a flush draw with 10-5 suited and makes it on the turn. What a game.
Me, I can't bear to play 23o or T5o even on the button with everyone limping. A weakness in my game?
Then I get AKo in the SB. With seven limpers, it was worth it to thin the herd or just take the $21 gimp pot down right there. Unlike the rest of the table, I'm not a fan of limping with big hands -- particularly from early position -- unless it's been raised preflop.
I flick in several red-birds, not even looking to count. The dealer counts it as $30 more, or $31 total.
I wanted it to look like I was stealing, though any observant player who's watched me over the past two hours would have noticed that I hadn't yet made a move like that.
The tight player who limped with AK and AQ is the BB. He thinks, then calls. Of all the players at the table, he was the one I didn't want calling.
But then again, I did want him to call, because I knew his range of hands to call that bet.
He's the only caller, and I have $101 left. Translated to real money: a couple dozen Sonic cheeseburgers to feed and rescue me from running out my player's card points in buffets.
To show a sign of strength, I ostentatiously begin stacking my chips in preparation to go all-in on the flop. In reality, I was going to make the move if an Ace or King fell. If neither did, I still wanted it to appear that that was my plan, while squinting to my left to see what he was going to do. I don't know what I actually would have done if no Ace or King appeared, but I probably would've done the same to represent a big pair and not give him the odds to call.
With his hesitation at the $28 call, I put him on AQ or a big pocket pair like QQ.
Flop is A-Q-8 (rainbow).
My heart now sinks at the thought of AQ or QQ.
I'm the 10seat and he's the 1seat, so the dealer's in the way of my getting a good read. From him staring at the flop and not looking at or playing with his chips, I sense he didn't like that Ace.
In a continual motion from my previous stacking, I push and hope for the best.
If I'd bet half my stack and he called, it would've committed him to see the river. Better to just go all-in now.
I cut the chips and flick the white chip on top. Dealer says, "One-oh-one." (Later, the floor came by and said that amounts must be in increments of $5.)
When he doesn't call immediately, I know I have him. I reconsider his holdings to AJ or JJ. If he had KK, I'd think he'd reraise me preflop.
He has to fold. He has to. The longer he pauses, the more I think he's teetering toward calling in the hopes of catching.
With my luck, he'll catch.
I consider flipping over my Ace to encourage him further not to call. But that move may work against me; besides, if he has an Ace, I actually do want him to call.
He counts out his chips, restacks, then counts them out again.
Just as it looks like he'll fold, he calls!
Now I can't put him on JJ (and would he really have called preflop with AJ, the tight player that he is?), he must have KK or KQ.
I have my headphones on listening to Opie and Anthony (who, to reward you for reading this far into my pain, interview Phil Gordon on Oct. 4 in this link to the MP3), and I remove my left ear, though it wouldn't do any good other than to hear my own screams.
The dealer raps the table, burns and turns and burns and turns. Rags.
I flip my AK and gesture with my hand as if to say, "What else could I have had?"
He just holds his cards, and now I fear slowrolling. If he slowrolled one card at a time, I was liable to punch him in the kidney.
But he doesn't, and he simply mucks his cards.
A big sigh of relief from me, and I pop my left earbud back in, tip the dealer a few whites, and stack the chips.
If you thought I lost the hand, I didn't do a good job foreshadowing.
A few hands later, I pick up AA in early position. I think about folding.
I raise to $25 and 10seat reraises to $50. I feel he's trying to get back at me.
I again think about folding.
I reraise to $100. This is telling him to fold his darn small pair, yes?
He goes all-in.
Typical with AA and me and flashing back to my final online hand earlier this week, pocket Aces are like my ex-girlfriend Jennifer who looked and sounded like an older pre-crash fetish Lindsay Lohan (before there was a Lindsay Lohan) but who kisses like a tree frog. Jeez, what a bad analogy. Suffice to say, Aces look good on paper but haven't been treating me well lately.
I remove the earbuds completely now and think, "Goddammit." And not in a good way.
I again think about folding. I don't think I can ever laydown Aces preflop, unless perhaps close to the bubble in a tournament with a few people at the table all-in. Weakness?
He covers me by a few chips, and I call for my remaining $218 (technically $215, but the dealer didn't say anything).
I flip my Aces, people at the table ooh and ahh. He doesn't show. I put him on KK or QQ.
The flop is K-K-6.
I hope for QQ. I dread 66.
Now he decides to flip his cards. Go on, show your freakin' quads.
But I'm wrong about KK and QQ. He has AK. Suited, which I guess was enough of a percent advantage to him to justify going all-in against a 3bet.
I reclassify him from my original tight player category, but it doesn't much matter, as it's my last hand.
I burn an image of him into my memory, though, because one day I'll get him back.
(If he had simply called my 3bet, the two Kings on the flop would've slowed me down, but he would've gotten the rest of my chips anyway. I would've bet $100, he would've smooth-called. And by that point I would've been committed.)
I drive home, desperately reviewing my play, wondering if there's anything I could've done differently. Because it's much better to think I'm at fault and have some semblance of control in the game than to think I'm simply a slave to luck.
When hell, I could've just put all of it on black at the roulette table. Not just all of it meaning this past week's hands. But all of the thousands of dollars I've lost since moving here. Same end result either way.
Okay, time for that break. Hopefully by the time I post again, I'll have a job, I won't get nauseous when seeing Aces, and luck will return.
— —
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Wild On Taragrub
Last week I used up my free hotel nights at Silverton and The Palms, both of which have my vote for best hotel rooms. The Palms is the winner of the two because of their plush pillowtops and big bathrooms. Both have excellent soaps and shampoos (Bath & Body Works and Neutrogena, respectively) and both provide daily USA Todays. The Palms squeaks out ahead from the overall look, the clientele, and by providing coffee and toothpaste.
My free gift at Silverton was a nice red and black luggage set, though it smells like a smelly cat and is quietly stinking up my apartment.
My free gift at The Palms was a $10 food comp and a green envelope that could contain anywhere between $5 and $1000. It contained the former.
Watched a ton of TV in the hotel rooms, including new and old series, late-night shows, infomercials, news, weather, and yes, "Taradise."
I find not having cable or reception at home, I'm not really missing much. In fact, I'm missing the chance to be paranoid hearing about all the sordid crimes about town (shootings, carjackings, bodies found in hotel rooms). I did learn that the 25,000 people who attended the Global Gaming Expo a few weeks ago were exposed to someone with hepatitis who wasn't named Pamela Anderson. Comped gamma globulin and vaccines were given out. And all I got was free luggage.
Checking in at The Palms, I overheard newly single MILF Jenny McCarthy was staying in the Hugh Hefner suite, which was just a few floors (like about 30) above me. Valet wheeled up her luggage, which had some girly frilly things attached. It looked like she was shacking up for a month. Or maybe she just liked shoe choices. Later she'd be found levitating for Lance Burton and riding the bull and mudwrestling at the New Frontier, so she'd definitely need a change of clothes.
Because of her affiliation with The Palms, Brenden Theaters is showing her movie Dirty Love exclusively... and probably reluctantly.
Speaking of public drunkeness, trainwreck Tara Reid was also in town for several days, staying at the Venetian with unlikely Usher and doing her best impression not to be Kate Moss. In other words, gaining weight and not apologizing for her substance abuses past and present. At least Tara has the decency to snort "TRIMSPA"® in la Salle de Bains like every other approaching-30 celeb. No paparazzi in there, don'tchaknow. And no Sharon Stone hopping on the toilet bowl to defend and get her own name in the news.
'Course, a bathroom is what Paris Hilton could've used waiting in line at the Tao club opening. Billion dollar golden showers were let loose, not that there's anything wrong with that unless it was bottled and sold on eBay.
Grubby's Hands of the Week
What is The Hammer?
7
6
5
We hired the Dennis part right on the spot, because he was the best out of everyone (he was also dual-cast as Bernie in Perversity). We went against type and had him (who looked a bit like Seth Green) play the zombie against Mike, who was much bigger.