Email grubby or grubette (unless you specify otherwise, emails may make it into future grub posts)
Look for grubette at...
I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.
Northwest Mutual has a longevity game (if you can call it that), which puts your friendly grub at keeling over at the ripe old age of 64. Try it yourself, if you dare.
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I may have jinxed myself, because the past couple days the bad beats have been comin' like wildfire. And I haven't gotten up from the table like I should (this is contrary to my contrary advice on when to leave a poker table -- unlike other games, poker is one long session and you shouldn't leave if the game is good, but I say you should leave for your emotional health... and then I never do). Like a battered Angelina Jolie orphan I rebought and rebought and turned an ashen cheek each time for more beatings, even sliding my bare ass over sandpaper to make it more convenient.
Usually the calls came from the same person who kept getting lucky and built a pretty sizeable stack. This guy's usually pretty profitable for at least someone at the table, but in this case his any two cards were steamrolling everyone. Hearing him say, "I need a Jack or a 3" on the river and then getting it a countless number of times turned my stomach sick. Sick, I tell you!
I'll spare you the bad beat stories.
The hand I went out with (against someone else) that I don't consider a bad beat -- just bad luck -- was JJ vs. QQ and both of us flopping a set. I don't see how I could have gotten away from that, especially with him calling the whole way (he said he thought I had trip Kings). And silly me bending over and betting the rest of my chips on the river.
These losses come at a bad time because rent is due tomorrow. I'm dipping into a cash advance through my credit card checks, which I'll deposit to my checking account later today for cash, then use another check for rent. They charge 3 percent immediately plus a 5.99 percent APR through August 2006 (where it then increases to 25.24 percent). Hope I haven't overlooked any hidden charges.
I'm now officially below rock bottom, but somehow my spirits haven't sunk as low as my bank account.
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Not sure whether they're related, but the past couple days I've been having some odd dreams, at least out of the ordinary for me because they are so ordinary. Might show you where my mind's been lately.
Two nights ago, I dreamt I'm living in a house where mice are in each room. (This stems from watching creatures eaten in Madagascar. I don't like mice, and it's a relief to wake up.)
Last night, I dreamt I'm living with family and we're planning to move... to Bangor, Maine of all places. I'm sifting through things to throw away, mainly stuffed animals from childhood. I'm thinking what I'm tossing is what I'd like to hand down to my children, but into the trash they go. (For the move to Vegas, I tossed pretty much everything, including old drawings and writing I'd done as a kid, and I regret that.)
The place we're currently in has a basement with a chimney in the middle of the room that opens up to reveal a hidden room. That room is an elevator leading to a separate part of the house. (I think this is a callback to the $800,000 model houses grubette and I looked at for fun while in Long Beach last weekend... one house had a hidden mother-in-law room in the back of a closet. As for interpretation, I'm playing too safe?)
This is one of those epic dreams, because it keeps going. I look on a map and see that Bangor, Maine is only an hour north of Reno, Nevada, and I think I could just start playing at the Reno casinos. (My geography skills go to pot in my dreams, and I can't seem to escape gambling.)
I spot mamagrub outside in the yard with two mammoth blue suitcases, each about 12 feet tall x 4 feet wide. She looks sad. She's going to Bangor without knowing yet where to live. We don't have to come with her, she says. But where else do we have to go? (mamagrub was the first to leave to the West Coast -- grubette and I stayed behind on the East Coast.)
Somehow the dream switches and I'm in Bangor. (I've never been to Maine, much less Bangor.)
I'm excited because a couple DC theater people are in Bangor, in a play about cheerleaders directed by Jo Bonney (wife of Eric Bogosian and who's directed many of his plays). I sit in on a rehearsal, and I see Bonney give direction to one of the girls to kiss the other girls. She does it wrong, and Bonney says, "That's why you're not a writer" and then shows what she meant -- basically, an intended kiss, with the other girls turning away. (Several years ago I abandoned writing a series of cheerleader monologues... insecurity on my own ability as a writer?)
I then find myself at the first day at work. It's a small retail store that burns CDs. I observe one person taking care of a customer. I take notes on what computer and software is used, along with the procedure. When the customer leaves, everyone else comes out of hiding. It's training day, and everyone's dressed in the store uniform except for me. I'm also the oldest of everyone. (Anxiety about the job-to-be. Though at this point, I'll take any job.)
And there you have it. These realistic dreams I dread the most. Creatively, they don't do much for me as inspiration. But lots of underlying anxiousness symbolized.
But at least in my dreams, I'm employed. And casinos are an hour away.
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Monday, November 28, 2005
No-limit Barry Manilow
For those attending the blogger convention next weekend and are staying through Dec. 12, Barry Manilow is taping two concerts at Hilton Las Vegas for a PBS special called Barry Manilow: Music and Passion.
Here's how to get free tickets to both the 3 p.m. and 8 p.m. shows on Dec. 12:
You can go to both shows, but you must specify which show(s) you want to attend
Request no more than four tickets per show
Submit your name, the show(s) you want to attend, the number of tickets you are requesting, and your email address to pbstaping@manilow.com
All ticket requests must be received by today, Nov. 28
Tickets will be distributed on a first come, first serve basis
You will receive a ticket confirmation via email by Monday, Dec. 5
Tickets will be available at the Hilton on Monday, Dec. 12 and details of the pick-up location will be emailed to you
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For those who aren't into Barry, here's a free mini Sharpie pen (or an entry for a Visa Gift Card). There's a modicum of skill involved because you have to play a Breakout-type game, but you just have to get to the fourth level and it's easy for anyone brought up on the Atari 2600.
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How can it be 29 degrees in Las Vegas with a freeze warning in effect? It's enough to make a grub hibernate indoors, wear fuzzy slippers to the mailbox, and go back to playing online.
The Christmas trees and decorations inside casinos certainly feel fitting, which I never thought would the previous times I've visited around this time. Keeping me warm and tingly inside are the short Santa skirt outfits that the cocktail waitresses are barely wearing at Hard Rock and Sunset Station.
Lee, a friend from Maryland, visited for seven days and eight nights, and I hung out with him most nights, playing absurd amounts of poker and annoying fellow players at the pai-gow table at Silverton (we both lost... frickin' pai-gow).
Often at the same table, both of us played poker at Hilton, Aladdin, Bally's, MGM Grand, and Wynn.
The past couple months, I've come to understand that the limit game is dead and a losing game for me... especially with constant suckouts at the low limits. Wish I knew this earlier when I still had a bankroll. But truly, in just that period of time, the no-limit game has evolved into the best low-limit game going. There are still beats, but more often than not a big bet will scare people off drawing. Or they will gamble with you for two outs and all-in. Sometimes they hit (AA vs. JJ), sometimes they don't (KK vs. 88... which a player reraised me, and when I went all-in, he said, "Well, what else can I do?"... I didn't even look at the cards on that one, fearing an 8).
Lee played and lost at Aladdin's 5/10 (now a regular game), Wynn's 8/16, and Bellagio's 15/30, but he won every time he played no-limit. I think he's coming around to no-limit as well.
Except for Bally's (where I played and lost two satellites in the WSOP circuit), I also happily won in the NL games and had only one losing session -- at Hilton, which has an odd dullness feeling to it that I can't quite place. I'm debating whether to return, being a scant 37 hours of play away from a free Hilton softball jacket (by the way, if you sign up for a free Hilton player's card, you'll get two free tickets to Delisco).
I'm experimenting with different plays in no-limit -- particularly as short stack and as big stack. In both cases, against a raise on a previous street, I can come out betting strong and have people fold. Betting patterns also come in handy -- if a caller or two sticks around after the flop, the raiser is usually reluctant to bet what he should on the turn. Frequently a raise here is enough to get him to give up his hand. More frequently, just a bet is enough because more often than not he mistakenly checks the turn.
More and more, the cards don't matter too much unless the person I'm up against has more than a pair.
I'm also trying plays to enduce calls, but only with strong hands.
Reading people is working well so far (cross fingers).
A few new things I've noticed:
People preserving stacks. When players stack their chips in such a way that they've separated their winnings and buy-in, sometimes I'll raise enough so if they called, they'd have to break into that neat stack. I'll also raise more than the chips they're holding in their hand, under the theory that they're only prepared to call whatever they're holding.
All-in shortstacks. Some players will call, say, $25 which leaves them with $15 (these are the players who usually short-buy). If I'm down to $200 and have to call a $100 bet, I'm more apt to fold or go all-in. Usually when I'm heads-up and they're that shortstacked, I'll estimate how many chips they have and throw out a specific amount. But heads-up against these players, it's sometimes more threatening to announce "all-in" even though the consequence of them calling is the same (just make sure there's no one else in the hand). Because still, sometimes players don't realize that only the remainder of their chips is at risk. Of course, that's if I don't really want them to call; if I want them to call, I'm likely to bet their stack minus $1.
$3 chips. I hate the brown chips at Wynn, and I think it's more profitable to play in red chip games, but the extra chips do make pots seem bigger. I'm used to a standard three-chip ($15) raise in regular NL games, and at Wynn there's also a standard three-chip raise but for $9. Tossing out five brown chips makes it appear like a bigger raise, even though it's the same as you'd bet with red chips. However, I like the 1/3 blind structure much more because of the extra $1 that can be stolen from each player.
Angle-shooters. Many times players will bet out of turn, intentionally string bet, announce "raise" when they're first to bet, and other moves that I would normally think is angle-shooting. Rarely is this the case and oftentimes it's a simple mistake. If I were at, say, the California cardbarns, I would put more attention at these plays. But at the tourist-heavy casinos I frequent, there are still many people playing for the first time and not knowing all the rules.
Spent late last night at Green Valley Ranch at a table where I showed none of my cards, because no hand went to showdown.
A familiar-looking player kept staring at me, then moved to another table and returned, saying he finally figured out where he played me -- at The Orleans. This would have been a few months ago, and I'm surprised he remembered. Players at Green Valley are mostly locals, and it's a good place to network. Conversation got to strip clubs when one person was trying to get to $1000 so he could take his buddy to Spearmint Rhino (he lost it all, so I'm guessing he didn't go). Another player's girlfriend strips at Rhino, and he wants to take over Treasures with the Penthouse or Hustler name. Another player said he co-owned a strip club in Oregon, which was fully nude with alcohol, and women could perform sex acts on each other. Worth checking out Oregon, eh? And the player that I'd played at the Orleans has family that owns Sapphire and Olympic Garden.
Small world, but then, what else is in this town besides casinos, buffets, and strip clubs?
Saw a bad dealer read on this hand: the Oregon guy raises, second chip leader reraises, and Oregon calls. Flop is 2-4-6. Leader bets, and Oregon plays with his chips, finally going all-in for $100 more. Oregon has QQ, leader has AK. Turn is 3, river is 5. Oregon sighs, and everyone at the table just sees the straight with the leader's Ace... including the dealer, who puts up the hand, mucks QQ, and begins shoving the pot to AK. I rap the table hard and say, "Chop!" Another player says to me, "How is that a chop?" I don't say anything more, waiting for the dealer to reexamine the board before finally realizing and chopping.
People say to Oregon that he owed me a tip because I saved him $200. Oregon threw $2 to me, but I refused. Then he threw $20, but I refused again (though I would've liked to have accepted). Cards speak, and I spoke up for the integrity of the game, though the leader was probably none too happy (and noticeably silent when the pot was about to be pushed his way).
A few days ago at MGM, someone went all-in with a full-house, someone announced "Call" but the dealer didn't vocalize it. The all-in didn't hear the call and thought he folded, then mucked his cards and began to take back his money when there was a commotion, the floor was called, and eventually the pot went to the player who called and never showed his cards. "Man to man," someone said, "is that how you want to win?" The guy didn't say anything, keeping his head down. The player was incensed enough that he got up and left, followed by two other players.
But back to Green Valley last night.
As the game continued, it was apparent that a wild drinking semi-maniac was to my right, who came in every hand with $10 (later when he built his stack to $800, he raised every hand to $20) and then bet $50 into the flop. It was consistent enough that he became a reliable and easy read, just relying on luck. If he occasionally switched up his play, people would be wondering what he had. As it was, they just assumed he had nothing and they were often correct. But he did get lucky -- five times in a row he won pots calling to the river, hitting runner straights, flushes, and trips. He tipped the dealers very well, one time as much as $12. This was probably calculated, because dealers were often reluctant to get him to quiet down or stop cursing (only two tables were running anyway).
Everyone was gunning for him as he strolled down the walk of shame to the ATM for the sixth time. Into the game for at least $1200, the chip leader even bought him a Fatburger to keep him at the table longer.
He was also a chatty drunk, cursing, goading, and bugging people with his bets, raises, and crappy cards, and getting more and more people to call hoping to go up against him. At one point he was down to $100, then doubled up a few times to $800. If I could manage to catch a hand, I could easily let him bet for me and double up (he rarely folded until the river), but it wasn't meant to be. Two chip leaders at the other end were more than happy to relieve him of his chips time and again. One even bluffed him out of a pot with 7 high and a board of overcards. He said he had 6 high, but I doubt it.
One day I'd like to cultivate this type of drunk banter at the table. Usually I spend a good couple hours showing how tight I am, then add in some bluffing to take advantage of that image. That can work grabbing up small pots, but to build the really big pots requires a personality (whether real or fake) that gets under people's skin.
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Playing at Wynn into Thanksgiving morning, Lee and I finally cashed out and went to three different strip clubs because he still hadn't seen a Vegas strip club. Our plan eight hours prior before poker happened, we hit up Scores, Crazy Horse Too, and Cheetah's at 7 a.m. All offered free admission (not even employing people to check IDs) because all were dead, with many more men outnumbering the girls. Spearmint Rhino was closed, despite a sign that read 24 hours.
At Crazy Horse Too, a woman approached us immediately whose face had been around the Stratosphere too many times. She latched onto Lee, who excused himself to the restroom and said, "Here, talk to my friend grubby."
My small talk was very small, finding out that she lived in Miami but spent two days every other week in Vegas.
When Lee returned, she resumed her conversation with him. Much to my relief.
We moved to a different area of the club and she followed, sitting next to us.
Lee whispered, "grubby, how do we get rid of her?"
Basically, I said, you just ignore them and they eventually go away.
This one took awhile to pick up the hint, but eventually she did. Our rejection of her may have lit up the "no money" sign for other dancers, because no one else approached us.
Sometimes you have to take one for the team, just for show. But in this case, it wasn't worth it. Nor was the $15 I paid for a Diet Coke and a bottled water.
Planning to drive to L.A., I knew I couldn't make it so I booked a last-minute flight on JetBlue.
Parked at Hard Rock and cabbed to the airport.
Cabbies like to size you up and guess things about you.
Mine said, "New York?" and then, "How long you in town, a week?"
I said, "You're 0 and 2." Then he said, "It's cold, isn't it?"
grubette picked me up and we went to a restaurant in the Rosemead area of Los Angeles to meet 28 members of Rich's family (mamagrub's beau). Many I was meeting for the first time.
It was bittersweet, because the dinner was centered around Rich's sister, who had just visited this favorite steakhouse of hers last week to put down a deposit, and passed away a couple days after.
I'm spoiled by the great restaurants of Vegas and expect good service, but here we were shoved into the bar area (with beer and football banners strung around) on two long tables with folding chairs. One curt server accommodated us all, drinks were slow to arrive, and vegetables (canned peas and carrots) were served family style. This is fine for a buffet, but it wasn't a buffet.
After dinner, we went to her house and hung out while catching up. The refrigerator was full of Tupperwared condolence food.
Because she left the house to a couple people (including the church) and neither can buy the other out, it has to be sold. This includes a cute 10-year-old gray-haired shnauzer named Lucky, who isn't so because a home can't be found for him.
The funeral was the next day. I found it touching that among the items placed with her in her casket was the latest Barbara Taylor Bradford novel, which she never finished.
She was buried on a hill in Rose Hills Memorial Park & Mortuary, the largest cemetery I've seen. Ours was a party of 130 or so, and we passed two other funeral processions on the way up.
The town seems built around the park, because on the outskirts are roads with gate numbers and shops selling caskets and markers. I'd hate to live in that town, because traffic is constantly interrupted with police escorting these processions.
Rest in Peace, Lois.
— —
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Honorary lesbian
Get a coupon for a free 6.5 oz. can of Starbucks' Doubleshot espresso by filling out your email and address at this link (click "Register" at the bottom). The coupon arrives in a couple weeks.
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Never one to turn down candy, even if there's fiber supplements in it, fill out your email and address for a coupon and sample of these Fiber Drops.
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Ever the reporter, here's a photo that C. took of the Baghdad bombing of his hotel on Friday. If it were me, I'd have been hiding under the bed with my Doubleshot and fiber candy.
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Every Saturday, the club Krave at Aladdin turns into a lesbian bar called girlbar. It used to be monthly but it was so popular that it's now every week. An offshoot of the bar in Los Angeles, the Vegas version is also girls only, though a few guy stragglers can be found. The gay guys are usually the ones dancing; the straight guys are usually the ones roaming around like zombies or pretending not to stare at the girl pole dancers or the girl-on-girl lapdances or the girls making out.
My friend Bryce was celebrating her birthday at girlbar, and I stopped by with a gift of one of her movies. A few years ago, she was a popular B-movie actress, playing such diverse roles as a schoolteacher, a cat, and a space alien. Usually naked.
In January she's moving back to L.A. to get back into acting, so I thought it'd be fun to embarrass her with one of her classics. Later, she jokingly said, "This is what happens when old friends meet new friends. You can't hide anything."
This would particularly be the case at girlbar.
I'd been sitting on this movie for several years, picking it up on laserdisc (laserdisc!) but never opening it. Just waiting for the right opportunity to present it. The movie is her best known because a centerfold model stars with her. Bryce said she still gets residuals, usually for a few dollars, but just last week she received $100, perhaps because it's now on DVD.
Arriving at girlbar alone, I was stopped by the bouncer who said the club I wanted was next door. That would be the gay club. I was mildly insulted and wondered if it had something to do with my mauve-colored shirt.
"I know," I said, and tried to enter again. He stopped me a little more forcefully.
"Sir," he said. "It's for girls only."
"But I've been here before." Not a lie, but he didn't believe me. Just like at the poker table: when I don't bluff is when people think I'm bluffing. "There're guys in there, right?"
"Yeh."
I considered making a run for it, through the bouncer's legs. I didn't know where to go from there, whether I needed a secret code word or a greasy palm or another X chromosome. I changed tactics, which also sounded like a lie. I really am a terrible liar when I'm not lying. "I'm meeting some friends."
"You'll need to call them to come get you."
It made sense now. Last time I went was Halloween weekend when I was with a couple girls, so it wasn't a problem then.
I called Bryce.
"Hello?"
In the background, I could hear Gwen Stefani deny she was a Hollaback Girl.
"Help!" I said. "I can't get in without an escort."
"What? Where are you?"
Bryce couldn't hear me. After repeating, rewording, and yelling into the phone a couple times, she said, "grubby, answer yes or no... are you having trouble finding me?"
"Yes."
"Okay, hold on a second."
She moved to a quieter area and I repeated that I couldn't get in on my own. It again sounded as if she couldn't hear me, and just as I yelled into the phone, I turned around and saw her smiling at the entrance.
I gave a see-I-told-you-so look to the bouncer and hugged Bryce.
Inside, the cover charge for men is $20. Women get in for $5. Such discrimination. (I just checked the website, and apparently if you sign up to the guest list, you can get in for free... I could've saved $40!)
I told Bryce that she may not want to open this in mixed company, and she tore open the wrapping. She jumped with excitement, saying she doesn't have any of her movies and this will start her collection.
She led me into the bar and showed off the laserdisc to her friends, who didn't know she had done movies in the past. They also didn't know which character she was on the jacket, because her hair was red. I offered my laserdisc player whenever anyone wants to have a Bryce viewing party.
I did my best Kathy Bates impression and said, "I'm her biggest fan." To which Bryce turned the tables and said she was my biggest fan. Flattery at a lesbian bar will get me nowhere.
We hung at the bar and people-watched.
One bodybuilder with bigger arms than my legs stood behind me, and I almost bumped her. Bryce said that's the universal lesbian sign of starting a fight. She demonstrated the elbow bump and said I do not want to get in the crossfire of a lesbian fight because beer bottles are thrown.
I later told Bryce that I'm keeping my enemies close to me and I hired the bodybuilder as my bodyguard.
Occasionally Bryce and others would head to the dance floor, and they tried to lead me over. But grubby don't dance. This is why I can't go to weddings.
They did get me to dance for a bit, though. They also decided to give me a makeover. I did not resist.
Three women surrounded me and puffed up my starched collar (which now stood straight up), mussed my hair, and undid some shirt buttons.
"There," Bryce said. "That's your look."
Much like Frankenstein's monster saw his reflection in the pond, I saw my reflection off the bartop, feeling like I really did belong in the gay bar next door.
"That's why you're losing in poker," Bryce said. "You needed a look."
"You're right," I said. "Now I just need a hat."
Last month for Halloween at girlbar, I wore devil ears (pictured here worn by my unlucky Buddha bank), which didn't fit my head and I instead wore it around my neck as a collar.
We pointed out some hats that girls were wearing. There were baseball caps, doo rags, a fedora, patch caps, leather caps, a furgora (I had to look that one up), even two girls in cowboy hats (they were together and had matching cowboy outfits despite it no longer being Halloween).
I did like a patch cap that a girl was wearing (all the lesbians wear those now, Bryce said), though I first noticed the midriff showing. I think I just liked the girl. That's bad in a lesbian club.
"Go over and ask if you can try it on," Bryce urged.
"Yeah, that's a setup for disappointment."
But I did. With the aid of Capt. Morgan, a Coke, and three Coronas.
I went the ironic approach and waited for an opening.
"Say," I blurted out. "Where're you girls from?"
The girl with the patch cap and bare midriff looked up and didn't miss a beat. She said, "The proper question to ask us is, 'Are you looking for a third?'"
If my makeover hadn't touched my starched collar, it would've risen up on its own.
I did not have a comeback and somehow stammered something about Hitler and slinked back to the bar area.
Like a strip club, there's a certain empowerment for men in a lesbian bar: there's no feeling of rejection. Yet that lack of rejection and flirting freedom can surely toy with a guy's emotions.
Particularly if a girl's wearing a patch cap.
— —
Friday, November 18, 2005
Baghdad bombing
I fell asleep while writing this post, then awoke with a start and instead of heading to bed, felt compelled to check email.
The first new email was from a friend who's been reporting from Baghdad a couple times a year for USA Today and arrived again earlier this week.
He sent it less than an hour ago. And it pretty much puts poker bad beats, lack of a job, looming homelessness, and dopey poker grub posts all in perspective.
His subject was "8 Lives Left":
Our hotel was attacked by two suicide bombers about 8:20am Baghdad time. I was thrown out of bed clear across the room, stood up, not sure if I was awake or dreaming, stumbled out of the room and about 10 seconds later a second bomb detonated, blowing a tornado of glass, wood and debris through the room. Luckily I was in bed when the first bomb hit. The balcony glass doors and frame were blown inwards on top of my computer desk; if I had been sitting at the computer, I would not be here writing this email. My hands are still shaking as I type this but other than some bumps and bruises, I'm ok, alive, inshallah.
We forget there's still a war going on.
Take good care, C.
Update: Two suicide truck bombs went off targeting the al-Hamra hotel, killing at least six people (including two children) and wounding 40. This is the second attack on international media since the Oct. 24 triple-vehicle bombing on the Palestine Hotel.
The bombing today outside the Hamrah Hotel in central Baghdad destroyed a barrier wall designed to protect the hotel and blew out windows, but did not appear to cause structural damage.
A minivan rammed into the wall, creating a hole, Brig. Gen. Karl Horst told reporters. A flatbed truck tried to make its way through the hole to the hotel, but got stuck in rubble and exploded. "What we have here appears to be two suicide car bombs that attempted to breach the security wall in the vicinity of the hotel complex," Gen. Horst told reporters at the scene, according to The A.P.
Gunfire followed the blasts, which came less than a minute apart and could be heard throughout central Baghdad. An apartment complex next to the hotel was completely destroyed.
The death toll is likely to rise as authorities sift through rubble.
The hotel, which houses bureaus for the Chicago Tribune and several British newspapers, is one of the few places in Baghdad outside the Green Zone - the heavily guarded complex that is the American headquarters here - where westerners live.
This is the officially sanctioned documentary by the city, which basically means there is no mob.
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Took the free Microsoft seminar launching Visual Studio 2005 and SQL Server 2005, which was worth the day spent and not just because they give you retail versions of the two products for free on the way out. The speakers were Ron Mardix, who was a new Microsoft hire by three weeks and seemed in awe of his new position. He was nice enough but too self-deprecating, taking too much time to explain how he was hired, apologizing upfront about a last-minute switch, and making excuses about his manager and the second speaker who was late. He spent enough time on this and his hackneyed jokes that he had to gloss over questions as he ran late in the presentation.
The second speaker was Anand Iyer who has his own blog called Artificial Ignorance and who I thought gave an excellent presentation, fielding questions with ease and speaking casually and informatively with a dry wit. He also seemed to be one of the key developers (including Internet Explorer 7.0, which the DVD contained a beta of and which he said to backtime your computer date by 30 days before installing, because he had set it to expire if installed after a certain date.)
The movie theater was filled with 400 tech geeks and maybe four women, two of whom were men with long hair.
Many were employed by casinos, and if I knew anything about this software or the IT field at all, it would've been a great place to network.
No lunch was provided, but a coupon was handed out for a free popcorn and soda, which I didn't use because the lines were too long.
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Carla bought me dinner at King's Fish House at The District at Green Valley Ranch, which has my hands-down vote for the best collection of restaurants in all of Henderson, Nevada. There are still a few I haven't visited and like a good movie (I still haven't seen Jaws), I'm savoring the others for a rainy day.
For starters, we shared a delicious grilled artichoke and edamame.
I was skeptical about the char-grilled 'choke, never a big fan because of the work involved to get to the meat. (And because, ahem, I naively thought you were supposed to eat the skin near the meat.)
But this one turned me around. It was carved into quarters with the choke removed, smothered in melted butter and garlic, and served hot with a basil mayo dip. Just peel a leaf, dip lingeringly into the sauce, and skin off the meat with your teeth. My tastebuds melted.
For entrees, she had the fresh rock fish (their specialty), and I had the coconut curry shrimp (with pineapple and rice).
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We talked poker, specifically the two-day WPT Boot Camp that she attended at the Mirage. She said Clonie Gowen and others provided much advice (one of the people is responsible for selecting the WPT hands to televise). After the first day, sit-and-gos were spread for the 56 students with the instructors walking around and watching how people played. After the second day, a multi-table tourney ran with the winner getting a free seat into the WSOP.
Two tips that I didn't know previously that show poker is about playing the player:
Pros raise on a random event. Not what cards are dealt, but something trivial such as the arrival of the cocktail waitress or a new dealer or a certain minute on the hour. No matter your position, no matter your cards, no matter if there was a raise behind you. Raise with that hand.
Daniel Negreanu always raises UTG (I would think pros would adjust their play expecting this), then outplays post-flop.
Many of the concepts I already know, but there's one in particular that I keep resisting because it goes against what I know in limit: limping with Ax suited and limping with small pocket pairs in late position.
In early position, I fold these (including small pairs 55 and below) but in late position with many limpers, I always limp along. My logic is the odds are good to limp in to flop or drop. If I hit the set, I want to keep people in. If I raise preflop, I may get out some of the people that I want in if I hit.
I tend to drop anything A10 and below. AJ, I'll come in with a raise if it's folded to me, but I won't call a raise. AQ, I'll raise or call a raise. AK, I'll raise or reraise.
These are full tables. In shorthanded games, I'm liable to raise with any Ace or overcards.
Depending how the table is and how many people are playing small Aces, I may loosen up and play hands like A10 and A9 in late, but it's rare. Unless hitting the flop with two pair or trips or top pair (with Ace kicker), that kicker is just not going to be strong enough. I'd much rather play connectors than low or medium Aces.
Whether cards are suited doesn't factor into whether I play a hand. The small percentage advantage is inconsequential. I won't call a raise with any two suited unless I would normally call that raise with those cards offsuit.
This is both no-limit and limit, though I'm often tempted to play any two suited in limit when I see others drag huge pots. But in the long run, it isn't worth limping with hands like K6s, Q8s, etc., or even hands like 45s, 56s, 79s.
But Axs I will limp with, even A2s.
The proper play in no-limit is to raise or fold, as is the proper play in all hands.
I always thought with a sea of limpers, odds would dictate limping along from the button and the small blind with a variety of hands. Including Axs.
That's how I play in limit, even in no-limit.
But according to WPT Boot Camp and no-limit in particular, they still say fold. Or raise. Anything to narrow the field. With limpers, you have no idea what you're up against. Raise and you're generally safe from scary paired or draw flops.
This reminds me of problems I encounter in screenplays. If something isn't working in the third act, look to the first act.
In poker, if you're having trouble getting people off draws like I constantly do, look to preflop.
And there, it's either raise to get potential draw cards out, or fold.
Something so simple as that, but it makes sense.
After dinner, we headed to the casino to try out our new strategy -- never limp, just fold, raise, or reraise.
I'll post about that next time (what a tease).
— —
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
South Park grubby
From the wonderful South Park Studio 2, here's my incredible likeness on the way to the poker room:
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Through the end of the year, Wendy's and AirTran have a special offer to get a free flight by purchasing 20 oz. or 32 oz. drinks, or combos containing the drinks.
For each proof of purchase from the cup, you get 0.25 A+ Reward credits.
For 8 credits (32 cups), you get a free one-way ticket.
For 16 credits (64 cups), you get a free round-trip ticket.
As if I need a reason to go to Wendy's.
§
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All are good through Nov. 30.
§
Waited five hours through 50 people on the waiting list to get onto one of the Palace Station tables with the $500/hour random drawing. I wandered aimlessly, played my $10 slot freeplay and $25 blackjack freeplay (lost both), hung around the buffet an extra long time while reading the new Poker Player Newspaper, then opened the door to leave when the floor said I was up next.
Sat in the waiting area for half an hour more and chatted with a guy who moved out here a year ago and searched for a job for four months before a friend got him a gig driving a truck, which he'd never driven before. He now delivers dirt locally and makes $70K/year. He doesn't even have to handle the dirt, he just backs up and pulls a lever. Hmm...
My name was called and I sat down at 4/8. In the 10seat was an older, crabby woman with a lot of jewelry who called every hand, no matter how many raises. She would also call people down to the river just to see their hand, even if she had nothing. I couldn't help laughing when one person bet out A-5 to the end with no Ace or 5 on the board. The woman was heads-up and said, "I have nothing," and called his final $8 bet. She also showed A-5 and they chopped.
She provided much action, and more people joined pots because of her. She could also easily be check-raised, as she'd always bet whenever checked to. Basically a goldmine if you had the right hand. I went heads-up with her twice -- 1) A-10 and A-4-x on the flop, I bet to the end, she flipped 9-4 for a pair of 4s, and I won; 2) 4-4 and A-K-4 on the flop, J on the turn, 3 on the river, she flipped 2-5, and she won.
She also had a temper. When she wouldn't get her draw at the end, she'd viciously muck her cards and throw five $20s at the dealer for a rebuy, then was upset when she was given reds (the poker room was so crowded, they ran out of white $1 chips). No one said anything, everyone waiting like wolves to go up against her.
When she went to the restroom, I found out she's a realtor named Liz who makes an average $350,000 per sale. Her husband passed away recently and left her a bunch of money as well, so she's pretty well off. (Though she's single, I can't seem to muster the strength to entertain the idea of being her next husband.)
She apparently always plays this way, usually in Omaha. But there was only one Omaha table running with a longer waiting list because of the Omaha high hand jackpots. I need to learn Omaha.
Liz went through $600 while at my table before moving to Omaha. Which the locals say is low for her, since she usually runs through $1000 (though because of her action and occasional luck, she sometimes walks with $1000). Amazing numbers for a lowly 4/8 game.
For the $500 drawings, bingo balls were mixed and picked to determine the table, then picked again for the seat number. Our table was never called. The person who won the 2 p.m. drawing switched tables and won again for the 4 p.m. drawing.
After Liz left, the table tightened until a pretty girl sat down. She was a cross between Marisa Tomei and Sophia Loren and wore a low-cut camouflage print halter with huge boobs that she caught me gawking at. I need to learn Omaha and I need to start wearing sunglasses at the table.
Though definitely easy on the eyes, something about her personality turned me off. It wasn't because she was terribly aggressive (I think she just was lucky early because she backed off later into her second buy-in) or that she had money on the Colts. Maybe it was because she subtlely used her looks to work the table. While some of the seniors wouldn't have any of it, one changed seats to sit next to her and bought her a burger. She drank toasted almonds and acted hurt when no one would join her in a jager shot.
I nursed my $100 buy-in the entire time, never winning above it, and never below $20. Then the drawings ended and I racked up to leave and played one more orbit. That was my mistake, as I lost two big half-kill hands that took all but $5.
I used that toward Sonic's Sunshine Smoothie, tuscan grilled chicken, and jumbo tots, then went to Blockbuster to rent the dull Amityville Horror remake and can I just say we don't need any more kids with imaginary friends who may not be imaginary and if they aren't imaginary they're the pasty white undead spreading rotten maggots and evil to the kids whose parents don't believe them until it's too late?
To counteract what I expected to be a bad horror flick yet continue to subject myself to under the guise of research, I also rented the entire second season of "Six Feet Under," which I'll be savoring a bit at a time over the next week.
Later today I'm picking up my first free gift at Silverton, which is a floating pen and digital clock set. I should have $15 of slot freeplay as well, which I'll blow on one particular Mr. Cashman that seems to pay off well.
Then meeting Carla for dinner to go over some no-limit strategy. She took the WPT Boot Camp with Clonie Gowen this past weekend and teased me by saying she learned how to keep people from sucking out on you. I'm hoping the advice isn't as simple as moving all-in or check-raising all-in on the flop, because my experience is people still call on their draws, perhaps even eagerly more so because of the pleasure they get if they hit.
— —
Monday, November 07, 2005
Fine dining grub
Poker Grub's monthly traffic limit now regularly exceeds the 5 gigs allocated, which means hosting's getting expensive for a certain out-of-work grubby. Please consider signing up to one of these poker sites and play a few hands. I'm an affiliate at each and we'll be okay if at least one person signs up per month.
As a thank you in advance, here's a free Nathan's hotdog (buy one, get one) and a free Sonic creamslush (no purchase necessary).
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A couple DC friends moved to Vegas and in return for my looking after a couple house-related things, they took me to dinner last night at the swanky new Hank's Steakhouse at Green Valley Ranch.
Free food? Twist my arm.
Our host Oscar introduced us to Steve, who would be our server. Yet we didn't see Steve again until dessert time (and even then, Steve simply spread out our menus until Oscar arrived with his recommendations). I suspect once Oscar saw we had a hungry appetite, he decided to put Steve on another training table and take our tip for himself. Which was fine, because Oscar was an excellent server and seemed genuinely excited about the menu and what we ordered (we also later found out he's a long-distance runner and will be running in the upcoming Las Vegas Marathon).
Oscar said the restaurant cost $12.5 million (the restrooms being $6 million, he joked), and if I were any sort of gourmet food critic, I'd have loads to say about it. Alas, I'm a fast food glutton so you'll get just a blurb.
The decor was cozy, modern and elegant -- right up there with any Vegas Strip restaurant and far eclipsing Bull Shrimp, the previous restaurant in the space. A looming wine rack looked like a vault on par with Mandalay Bay's Aureole though not as tall and without the wine fairies. The center of the restaurant contained a wall of fire encased in glass. A piano in the bar had someone playing and singing (for which bar patrons were charged a 10 percent entertainment tax).
One thing I was disappointed in was the restrooms -- the way Oscar played it up, I asked if we could move our table there, but upon seeing it, it wasn't anything to write home about. I measure a good buffet by the quality of their corn on the cobs; I measure a fine dining restaurant by their restroom.
Fortunately, everything else about it was superb and my friends liked it as well.
I tried ordering a margarita, but Oscar swerved me to the Dean Martini that if I didn't care for, I could take back and he would drink himself. Oscar also convinced my friends toward the Dean Martini drink, and it was shaken, not stirred, in front of us.
Daniela kept the bottled water flowing. They didn't have the Atomic Martini, which Dave remembered from James McManus' Positively Fifth Streeth, and which the bartender called friends to check on. Instead he ordered a Grey Goose with slice of orange and later a glass of red wine.
We picked the Lobster Jumbo Jackpot as an appetizer (at market price, it was $105 for three people). And what an appetizer -- lobster tail, jumbo shrimp, crab legs, oysters -- all atop a mountain of ice, which itself rested on a platter that was lit red from below. I was afraid there would be some messy cracking of the shells going on, which is primarily why I don't eat crab and lobster, but each was peeled for us.
We shared the main entree, which was a freakin' huge 32 oz. Western Australian lobster tail that I wish I had my camera with me to show how honkin' big the thing was. If I saw it in the ocean, I'd put it up there with the Giant Squid and swim away. Butter sauce was placed in the middle of the table, with a little flame underneath to keep it warm. The medium rare Chateaubriand (which I had to look up to spell) was also mouth-watering and juicy enough not to need A1 Steak Sauce, which would probably be a big faux-pas anyway. The surf and turf and vegetables were carved in front of us by two people and served.
For dessert, we shared the chocolate brownie sundae, which Oscar said was huge and looked like an upside-down version of the crystal chandelier above us. We finished it in no time and sat back chatting and digesting until after the restaurant officially closed.
Part of what makes a good dining experience is the waitstaff, and if you're ever at Hank's, ask for Oscar.
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That's the grub. Here's the poker.
The past several days I've clocked in a bunch of hours at Excalibur, Aladdin, MGM Grand, Green Valley Ranch, and a new one for me -- the Flamingo. Nothing to show for any except MGM and GVR, which comp $1 per hour for food.
Excalibur's the only room where I played limit (2/6) because of that dang double wheel spin promotion that's still running, netting each spinner from $40 to $600 on cracked Aces or quads and above. I'm becoming a calling station at this game, calling small raises on any pair and straight flush cards -- even low gappers like 46s. Not a good way to play, and I would never play these hands in a higher limit game without high hand jackpots, but fortunately pots aren't raised preflop too frequently in 2/6 and I can easily escape on the flop.
Still, managed to lose my buy-in while very much buzzed from an earlier strip club visit to Olympic Garden. I swear my Corona was spiked, but it was probably just the empty stomach that did me in. Apparently I can no longer hold the alcohol that I once could, and all I have to show for it is the beer gut.
My final hand, I called a min. raise with 77 and flopped K7x, which I bet out with and reraised. The turn I capped all-in and we flipped. For a second my hazy vision saw KQ and I almost scooped the pot until I squinted and eyed two Kings mocking me in the face. I stuck around to see my case 7 so that I could spin the wheel, but to no avail.
Stupid wheel.
At wheel-less Aladdin, saw a 2/5 waiting-list player run through $800 in three hours at our 1/2 table. This paled my eventual $310 loss including a walk of shame to the ATM through a wall of hallucinogenic fumes (hippies were out en masse and letting out of the Trey "Phish" Anastasio show) just to get a chance at the guy. He bluffed more often than Tara Reid does about not doing coke, and I drooled at going against him if I could only find a hand.
Figures the only hand he won was the hand against me when he flopped a flush, and I flopped a set (I was the aggressor, and he just called the whole way).
But it was later that my image never recovered when the dealer and floor ruled I made a string bet, which makes that the first string bet I've ever made. The bet was $15 and I put $15 in one hand and the rest of my chips in the other, then pushed both past my cards in one motion and stacked $15 with one hand, and stacked $90 with the other. The initial bettor called out "string bet" even though this was the same move he'd made a few hands ago. I wasn't worried about him, but I wanted to get the calling station out of the hand because he called everything. I wanted to protect flopping top two by taking the pot right there, but the ruling downgraded my all-in to just a call. (I seldom announce "raise" or "call" thinking that my tone of voice gives something away, and I usually just like letting the action speak.) This cost me big when that caller hit his gutshot straight draw on the turn. I should have left in protest. Carla was at the other end of the table, and she and a couple other players spoke and agreed that what I did wasn't a string bet. Through the rest of my time at that table, I saw several people make moves that could be interpreted as a string bet and if I were an asshole I'd be pointing out each one.
(At Green Valley Ranch, any chips that pass the line is considered part of that raise if you raise. This includes chips in your hand. Many times I've seen people push out a stack in their hand and raise a few chips, only to discover all of those chips play. I don't like this rule, because it can be set up for angle-shooters.)
Unlike some rooms, $100 bills play at Aladdin. Saw a guy who had sold a stack of reds to another player move all-in for a few more chips. When the dealer announced the amount of his chips plus the $100 bill, I could see the sudden fear in his eyes. I suspect he had the hand anyway with top pair, but I doubt he would've made the move if he knew his $100 was at stake. It was too much to call for a woman with medium pair, and he won anyway.
I feel comfortable at Green Valley Ranch, though I haven't won there since winning $500 several weeks ago, briefly experiencing what it's like to be chip leader until the table broke. I'm recognizing many of the same players as locals who've adopted it as their favorite as well as defectors who used to play at Sunset Station. I'm also remembering the calling stations and the bluffers. Too bad there's no live PokerTracker. I find I play well against the good players (because they fold), poorly against the bad players (because they don't).
When I arrived, the bad beat jumbo jackpot had hit three hours earlier and the player share was about $240 each. Three hours earlier I was at a lesbian bar, but that's for another post.
MGM Grand was a good nine hours of work while losing two and a half buy-ins. But a very good game and a second-place chip leader who would call all-ins with top pair/bad kicker and never think he could be dead to an overpair. In each case he was correct and people just gave their buy-ins to him.
The last time I played MGM, the chip leader had over $1500 in front of him and was catching cards like crazy. The same guy was at this table with $1200 and continued to get lucky. Lost two pots to him when he called raises with garbage 9-2 and 9-5 (which he had every right to do because of his stack). He was lucky throughout the night, flopping boats and trips and two pairs on hands I'd never play even if I had his stack. He played Q2o twice in a row and won both times. I'm rethinking how I play NL because of this guy.
None, and I mean none of my big cards held up. Didn't get a pair higher than JJ, but plenty of AQ and AK that fell. The only hands that held were hands like 56, 67, and 10-3 -- all hands courtesy of the blinds.
Another guy is a host at Bellagio's Light nightclub and handed out his card, offering unlimited comps any Thursday. I lost my first buy-in to this guy, when I raised $25 preflop from the big blind with JJ (I don't mess around with Jacks and would rather just take the limpers). He called with 33 and hit his 3.
Flamingo is a new one for me and it's a very good game with a ton of action. Not many locals go out of their way for center Strip casinos, which is fine by me. Parking's a little rough, but the worse parking is, the less locals. Meaning more room for tourists.
My first hand in the 10seat, the dealer mistakenly dealt me in on the Button. I said I couldn't come in until after, but he said to go ahead and play it. 10-4, which I folded despite eight people limping for $2. The flop was 10-10-Q. A $15 bet was raised to $50 and was called. Turn was a 4. Another big bet, and an all-in on the river. One had a Q, the other had AQ. I'd said before that I always play my first hand when sitting down to show my anxiousness for anyone paying attention, but I just couldn't bear to play 10-4.
Saw someone raise 55, someone else go all-in with 10-10, someone else go over the top with AKo, and the 55 still call for all his chips. This was all preflop. AK won. Amazing call. He basically raised to see where he was, and was told twice that he was beaten, yet he still threw his money in there hoping to hit.
Others liked their AK and KQ so much that they'd call all-ins on a flop of rags.
This was another table where I flopped a set and another guy flopped a flush and lemme tell you, it's getting annoying when the board doesn't cooperate. This time, he pushed on the flop (for a third of my chips) and I moved all-in to push a possible A or K high flush draw out, which worked, but I still lost. I'd play it the same way if doing it over again, I can't be afraid of people flopping flushes... especially when they're moving all-in on the flop.
This same guy kept throwing his cards at the dealers, finally pissing off Sean who said, "If you want to play like that, go to the Bellagio." The player needled him more by asking, "How should I fold my cards? Like this or this?" When Sean's down was over, he slammed the table hard and said, "You know what I mean." Sean passed by him and the player stood up. "Take a swing," Sean said as he curled his fist. "Go ahead, take a swing." The player backed down. I fully expected a fight and protected my chips.
We all sided with Sean because aside from his temper he was a really good dealer, though perhaps that's a bit contradictory. He thanked us, then said he was on his way to get fired. We railbirded his talk with the boss, who ultimately patted Sean's back, so he got off with a warning.
Gorgeous European-looking girl (a better-looking version of Shannon Elizabeth) who could only be described as a "babe" sat down with $50, lost it, then thanked everyone and left. I chided the guy who busted her, saying, "Look what you did." He said he was thinking of mucking his cards to let her win, just to keep her at the table longer. It was funny how no one at the table said anything until she left, then all morphed into salivating animals.
So I'm rethinking my NL game. I mainly play the 100NL 1/2 that has a max. buy-in of $200, and rarely are these games raised preflop. Which means many limpers. Raises are crucial here to narrow the field, though big stacks are eager to call raises and push you out on the flop (though they seem to always hit something, the rich getting richer). As much as I hate to admit, it's probably good to play most hands preflop for a $2 limp... including any two suited and any two connectors and any one- or two-gappers. Particularly on the Button, because an Ace or King on the flop would usually get checked around because it was highly likely no one played those hands without a raise.
'Course, it depends how the game's going. The more raises preflop, the tighter people get. I'd almost prefer working with postflop play to get more money in, but it takes strong drawing hands. And my big weakness is I'm not nearly as aggressive as I should be with draws. Frequently I drop draws even when odds dictate I should make the call. Yet I'll call in limit.
Peering over at the aggressive 2/5 game where a limped flop is a rarity and $30 raise common, I have a ways to go before even thinking about joining that game.
§
I'm spending all of today at Palace Station, which reopened their poker room after a month of remodeling. They got rid of their 7-card-stud jackpot and put all the money into drawings this week -- amounting to $37,000 in giveaways when all is said and done.
Every hour from noon to 8 p.m., they'll call a table and seat number and award him/her $500. If I can get a seat before noon, I'll have a solid eight chances to win a 1 in 100 shot at $500. I plan to get there by 10 a.m. and sit in a 2/4. I suspect only locals will be there pushing chips back and forth hoping for a shot at the $500. And that means me as well. Here's hoping I don't lose too much in rake or in bad beats.
Who knows, maybe the bad beat jackpot will hit while I'm playing for a change. Or maybe I'll be on the losing end of a bad beat. A grub can dream. Only one thing's for certain today -- I'll be eating Palace's buffet.
Grubby's Hands of the Week
What is The Hammer?
Every Saturday, the club Krave at Aladdin turns into a lesbian bar called 
I told Bryce that she may not want to open this in mixed company, and she tore open the wrapping. She jumped with excitement, saying she doesn't have any of her movies and this will start her collection.
Don't forget to tune in to PBS's "American Experiences" documentary 
I was skeptical about the char-grilled 'choke, never a big fan because of the work involved to get to the meat. (And because, ahem, I naively thought you were supposed to eat the skin near the meat.)
A couple DC friends moved to Vegas and in return for my looking after a couple house-related things, they took me to dinner last night at the swanky new Hank's Steakhouse at Green Valley Ranch.
At wheel-less Aladdin, saw a 2/5 waiting-list player run through $800 in three hours at our 1/2 table. This paled my eventual $310 loss including a walk of shame to the ATM through a wall of hallucinogenic fumes (hippies were out en masse and letting out of the Trey "Phish" Anastasio show) just to get a chance at the guy. He bluffed more often than Tara Reid does about not doing coke, and I drooled at going against him if I could only find a hand.