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Thursday, July 31, 2008

Peace be with you, and to you

iPhone blogging.

In Bakersfield, Calif. for uncle's funeral.

Catholic memorial service. Standing, sitting, standing, sitting. Didn't genuflect (when my parents married, my father refused to kneel), I'm not Catholic but know the Lord's Prayer by now. To fit in, I raised my hand when the reverend said to, then didn't want to offend by lowering so kept it up.

Had impure thoughts looking at woman's butt in row in front of me, which I wouldn't have seen if we hadn't been standing and sitting so much.

grubette didn't bow her head to pray because thought it would be disrespectful.

Church was filled, adding folding chairs in aisles.

Pianist and singer added Beaches-like soundtrack, though must've been close to overtime or service ran long, because by the time we filed out from back, we had no exit music.

Uncle had just turned 50, the program reprinted my cousins' letter they gave to him listing 50 things they loved about their dad -- "I love you for giving me the good genes and not my brother."

Kids spoke after, very touching. One said she'll miss his sneezes -- "never less than three, never more than five."

Reverend began with saying it was difficult not to wonder why God took him so young, said God wasn't to blame but that He was with him when he died. Thought we were on the verge of getting some breakthrough answers.

Reception afterwards had silver plastic forks that looked like real silverware. That's class. So was the caprese.

Slideshow showed uncle in plane, his love for flying, and final slide showed screen fold into airplane and fly away. Considering he died in that plane, a little tacky.

High-tailed to casino. On the way is prison with Charles Manson and Melendez Bros., decided not to stop for a visit since they don't respond to my letters.

All lost, but gambling is how the grub clan connects after tragedy, so a successful trip.


Tuesday, July 29, 2008

A letter from Pauly

Pauly has a special Tao of Poker 5th-year anniversary tournament next Tuesday, Aug. 5 at 9 p.m. ET (password taopoker5).

I figured my old Vegas roommate might be throwing something special, but this one's huge -- only a $5 buy-in, and added to 1st place is not only two free nights at the Borgata but entry into the $5000 Borgata Poker Open that Pauly will be covering on Sept. 12. Not just a satellite into the tournament, but an entry worth $5000.

I first met Pauly at the Borgata back when we were innocent and naive poker bloggers. I was still living in D.C. at the time and took a Greyhound up to Atlantic City to meet these mysterious writers who had fascinating things to say about poker and life.

After I'd moved to Vegas, it took just over a year to blow through my poker bankroll, my stocks, my savings, and my 401(k), and I was beginning to max out my credit cards.

Because he would still be in town often after his residency at the Redneck Riviera, Pauly brought up the idea of rooming together. He would split the rent for a few months, and even better, he'd pay in advance.

I'm never comfortable borrowing money from people that I can't pay back immediately (by the way, this is probably the only question I answer "no" to in the 20 questions for Gamblers Anonymous). He knew this, and I suspect he did it to help me out, figuring it was something my pride would reconcile and accept.

It's something that I can't ever repay and won't ever forget.

In honor of Year 5, I hope he doesn't mind my sharing a note he left.

He'd come down with something, and because of lack of insurance, he didn't go to the doctor. Over the course of days, he grew worse and worse, walking around with a sheet around his head to say hi and then collapsing on the couch or his mattress. I'd never seen someone so close to death, and truly thought I might come home to see a body on the ground.

He wasn't even writing, and for Pauly not to write was about as natural as me turning down dessert.

I had just started my radio gig and had left my cell at home so had no way of checking in to see how he was doing. I'd planned to take him to the hospital if he was still sick, but got hung up at work and didn't get home till past the expected time.

When I got home, I heard silence from his room, which was also rare. I debated whether to go in and poke him with a stick to see if he was alive.

In my room on my ironing board (which doubled as my nightstand) was this note:


Then I saw an empty can of chicken broth in the sink, heard him snoring, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Even on his deathbed, Pauly was still funny and thoughtful, leaving a note and doing laundry to make sure I didn't catch anything.

I wouldn't miss this tournament for the world.

Happy 5th, Pauly!

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Rock 'n' Roll Starbucks

The Press of Atlantic City has an article on hustling the new Indiana Jones progressive slot machines.

We call this "vulturing," where players will wait for other players to drive up coin-in. A portion of each bet goes toward a separate pool, in this case a progressive award, which triggers at random times. When the pool is high enough, the vultures will apply bullying tactics (invading personal space, blowing smoke, farting) to get a player to leave a machine. They then sit down and bang away at max bet, when the machine is +EV.

Thing is, these are slot machines where there's no such thing as +EV. Except maybe video poker machines when combined with slot club points or a promo machine, you'll never see any machine with over 100 percent payback. Besides bad business, some regulators don't even allow machines at that return.

In the article, Charles Lund (author of Robbing the One-Armed Bandits) claims the game is profitable once a progressive has passed the 80 percent range.

But there's no guarantee that that machine will trigger a progressive before you've run through your bankroll. And even if it triggers, there's no guarantee that you'll be the one chosen. And if you're chosen, there's no guarantee you'll trigger the progressive that's above 80 percent.

mamagrub spotted similar Cambodian hustlers in California a few months ago before Tachi Palace switched the minimum bet.

Like the Atlantic City hustlers in the article, those players were betting the minimum of 1 or 2 cents until they deemed the progressive about to hit (80 percent), then they increased their bet to have a better chance at winning.

I can only hope I design a game that gets players to strategize how to win like this.

***

All weekend I slept, trying to recover from Seattle.

I escaped relatively unscathed, with a general feeling of nausea and burning in my throat and stomach.

And that was before the visit to the strip club, ahem.

The weather was perfect, without a cloud or raindrop in sight.


The panels were interesting but some with low attendance, particularly when it was trying to fill the Mark Taper auditorium that normally seats thousands for symphony audiences.


Stayed at the Westin, an easy walk from anywhere I wanted to go downtown.




Had lunch the second day at Icon, a restaurant that seemingly specializes in glass blowing and soups of the moment.


Didn't get to see Pike Place Market or the fish-tossing, but passed by this market which may have been a part of it.


Across the way was the first Starbucks in the nation, otherwise known as the Rock 'n' Roll Starbucks.


The closing night party was held at the Seattle Aquarium, a perfect place for a party that wove inside and outside among the aquatic creatures (some that you could touch).

I'd like to get married at this aquarium. Well, a drive-thru wedding in Vegas and then a reception at the Seattle Aquarium. Maybe sneak into someone else's reception.

The evening began with a double shot of Patron, though it began earlier at the Elephant & Castle bar (which I see has three locations in Chicago) with a Mango Margarita, Capt. & Red Bull, and PAMA Pomegranate Bay Breeze.

Then it quickly went downhill from there.

Full bars were spread throughout the aquarium with top shelf liquor. I flirted with the female servers carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres (that switched to dessert at 10:30), and they kept returning with new plates of food. They were all refreshingly playful. If there's one thing my parents taught me, always treat well whoever delivers your food. Or maybe my dog taught me that.

I might have run into a few of the same women from the previous night, but it wasn't awkward because I didn't remember. One I did remember was Jen, whom I approached a sixth time and offered her $100 if she could remember my name. I'm nothing if not persistent. I also saved $100.

Toward the end of the evening, I'd approach women and say that I was leaving and could I get a goodbye hug, which they did even though I hadn't met them before. I'm going to have to try this in real life.

Walking out in a group, one friend was stopped because you couldn't take glasses outside. While the bouncers watched him down the glass of red wine, I casually sneaked out carrying two full glasses of wine.


I'm thankful that I awoke next to these objects on the nightstand instead of next to one of the strippers.

Seattle strip clubs are dirty, dirty, dirty.

Can't wait to go back.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Rejection in Seattle

iPhone blogging.

In Seattle for a conference, which reminds me of the annual screenwriting Heart of Film festival in Austin. Seminars are spread out from location to location, panelists are a mix of pros and amateurs, bands play at night, big open bar parties at night.

Party last night began with models handing out M&Ms and posing for a photograph two at a time that we could later purchase online. Good start. I went back for a few photos, including one with four of the girls.

Party lasted 6 hours. That's six hours of open bar, sliders, corndog bites, and pizza. Slices of pizza... and for me, a slice of heaven.

Fueled by Captain and Red Bull courage, went up to girl after girl. On my own, with a friend as spotter, with wingman, with closer.

All rejections.

One particularly cold one:

Band playing.

Pretty girl standing alone, watching (no one danced at all).

"Is this Minus the Bear?"

"No."

Look back to my friends, look back, and she's gone.

Opening line got further with others.

"Is this Minus the Bear?"

"Yep."

"Where's the bear?"

"There is none; hence, MINUS the bear."

Elsewhere, pulled out all the stops.

Flirted to one girl that I saw her touch other food and therefore had to eat whole thing.

Used clear plastic pack of M&Ms to pretend the club was handing out Ecstasy tablets. "M" on side looks like "E."

Took decorative gem stone decoration, handed it to girls saying it was mood rock and I could tell what they were thinking -- hungry, passionate, lost something.

Asked, "Can I buy you a free drink?"

Ordered tropical drinks and asked girls if they wanted to pet my plastic monkey.

Reactions seemed more like L.A. reactions.

Another party tonight, this time a five-hour open bar. Hope for better luck this time.


Thursday, July 17, 2008

Gentile Summit, the sequel

This past weekend was the 2nd Annual Gentile Summit, hosted again by the incomparable DonkeyPuncher.

This year, DP got a block of rooftop seats for the Cubs vs. Giants game on Saturday, and I don't think I can ever go back to sitting in a stadium with the common folk.

Unlike the bleachers, we could move around. With a capacity of about 72, there was plenty of room, bathrooms aplenty, a breeze at the top of the rooftop bleachers, and we had more girls than the rooftops on either side of us. What more could you want?

I didn't realize there were so many of these frat-like rooftops, all seemingly sanctioned by the Chicago Cubs.

For one price (about $160), we got the game, all-you-can-drink beer/wine/soda, and all-you-can-eat chips, pretzels, hotdogs, sausage, meatballs, chicken, ribs, burgers, popsicles, cookies, brownies, and ice cream sandwiches.

Any time it got hot, we could just go downstairs and enjoy the game on LCDs. And the food just so happened to be two feet away.

In attendance at the 2008 Summit:
April
Betty Underground
Bobby Bracelet
Chad-a-rama
Donkey Puncher
Drizz
grubby
JoeSpeaker
Poker Princess
The Rooster
StB

and

iggy, in absentia, as he was too busy cashing in the World Series of Poker and coming down with the bird flu


I was a bit out of sorts before meeting up with everyone, because I ran home to shower as my water was turned off all day for pipe repairs.



After showering, I felt the urge to play a quick session of blackjack.

A scant 30 minutes later I was done and busted out of $1500. Then Visa called wanting to verify a charge. I prepared to explain my elaborate fib that I was purchasing parts of a Corvette at an online site in Dubai (since UIGEA, these online gambling sites go through all sorts of ruses to disguise themselves to look like purchases to U.S. players), but all the recording wanted was to verify a $38 charge at Target.

Made it to the gang in time, but oh was it tough to shake the loss. I had spent five days of July 4th weekend in Las Vegas and ultimately came out even (or ahead, considering all the lapdances, the locksmith, and food I paid for in cash). This was monumental for me, never having won or broken even on any Vegas trip.

And I suppose something felt wrong about that, which led to the compulsive blackjack.

Nevertheless, the Summit experience is one to behold... and to try to remember, as much drinking and lesbian bars pass by too quickly. I haven't yet read at least 100 emails in my inbox pre- and post-Summit, a testament to how much everyone enjoyed each other's company.

Below are random snippets of Summit memories.

* Offering people $100 if they would leap to the next rooftop (about three feet away but a long drop down).

* Receiving farmer's tan -- forearms, knees, ring around neck.

* DP yelling from rooftop -- "I would never let my son wear orange sandals!"

* The Cubs squeaking out a victory.



* After the game, DP doing the worm (there's video somewhere) and banging his elbow on the cement that he had no feeling for 45 minutes. Here's a reaction of some people watching DP (bottom right wearing the metrosexual sandals).



* DP jumping dead-center into a big puddle. Someone saying, "I pissed in that."

* Eating flapmeat at Tango Sur. Singing happy birthday to strangers. Sharing Argentinian steak with Rooster. No homo.

* Birthday girl coming over to us with a glass of vodka, thinking she shared someone else's birthday because she heard us singing. Elected Drizz, who received the glass and downed it whole.

* Rooster running into ex-girlfriend (the one that got away) from college, wasn't the same since.

* Speaker and Bracelet emerging from the bathroom together. Coincidence?

* Prop bet on 5 girls at table next to us. How many married? I said 2. Turned out to not only be 0, but only one had a boyfriend. We gave the prop bet money to them.

* Had one of the girls sit at our table so we could discuss which one of them was the highest maintenance.

* Made a joke that the place was a racist restaurant, Drizz got up to check the rest of the restaurant, thinking it was true.

* Rooster yelling out random area codes of incoming calls from girls, wanting to know the state location so he could remember who they were.

* DP ordering a row of Irish car bombs.



* Princess wanting to take a cab to the boats.

* Bracelet going upstairs to take a nap, and taking his pillow with him.

* Chad trying to rally everyone to play poker.

* Giving advice on April's stalker.

* Rooster saying to a girl, "God bless your parents."

* Singing "A Little Mermaid" and Tiffany's "Could've Been" songs with DP accompanying on his out-of-tune piano.

* Rooster wearing sunglasses, as if blind, holding my shoulder. Trying to maneuver into pretty girls to gain sympathy.

* Talking slots with StB, who's a fan of Monopoly Big Event.

* A group of girls taking their picture in front of a statue at Wrigley Field. Rooster took their photo, then I sat down arms akimbo in front of them, saying I should be in the picture. I'm sure I'm on MySpace somewhere.



* Rooster drinking a bottle of A1 steak sauce for cash.

* Rooster saying to a girl, "What, no smile?" Her response: "I'm married."

* On the way to a lesbian bar, I yelled out of the cab to a girl walking if she wanted to go to a lesbian bar. And then the awkwardness as the cab gets a red light and she catches up.

* Ordering 11 Chocolate Cake shots for the group, forcing them to drink.

* Betty saying, "Hey this really does taste like chocolate cake."

* Observing a guy rocking his knees on the corner after having been sprayed with Mace in a drive-by.

* At lesbian bar, throwing darts three at a time. At a target.

* DP picking me up on his shoulders to sing the final refrain of "Sweet Caroline."

* Receiving fuzzy photos on my phone of Rooster's progress at hitting on a she-male at a country bar.


and the best for last...

* Illegally sexy girl who backed her ass into my knee. Here she is with a mystery blogger feeding her ice cream.


Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Tragic plane crash


An eyewitness saw my uncle's plane go down in Oregon today and took pictures. There's even video at the local news site.

grubette relayed the tragic news that's made all the more so because of how it happened.

Like my grandmother last year, I'm numb with how to react.

I last spoke to him about six years ago, when he and my aunt divorced leaving three kids, the cousins I saw grow up every Christmas. He remarried into a family with two kids, and they had one more of their own.

The accident happened at the airport as he landed. His family must have seen or heard it, because he was there to pick them up and bring back home. His new wife always hated flying in the prop plane.

Flying was his passion, along with a bit of ostentation. When my cousin graduated college a couple weeks ago, my uncle flew in to attend.

I remember as a kid riding in the backseat of his Porsche before trading it in for a mini-van.

He was generous with his wealth, well-respected in the community, and a great father who brought up three great kids.

We had Christmas dinner every year at their house, and I remember my cousin (who must've been about 8) making ice cream. I was in the bathroom when she asked if I wanted any. When I came out of the bathroom, she had set a bowlful of vanilla ice cream on the floor for me, right in front of the door.

Around the Bakersfield, Calif. area, local news is calling him "the Bill Gates of Kern County."

My heart goes out to my three cousins, my aunt, and the other family he left behind, all of whom will have these horrifying images as a constant reminder.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Key fondling

Leaving Las Vegas now, always with some bittersweet feelings.

Saw F-train at hooker bar and felt envious he'll be here for another month. Planning an August trip with grubette helps ease the longing.

Vegas itself is like slots: so much possibility.

Don't know what it is that this city has over me. Besides the obvious gambling, maybe I feel comfortable amongst my fellow degenerates. Maybe it's the anything goes mentality. Maybe it's the volume of endless gorgeous women. Or maybe it's just the cheap food.

Won the sit-n-go at Mirage. $60+10 buy-in and $420 for 1st, $180 for 2nd. People were just playing their cards, much folding blinds when high. Players were surprised I called an all-in with 6-4, but blinds and stacks made it easy. Did get lucky early when reraising all-in with Jacks. Folded to another guy who called with Kings. Original raiser had 66. Rivered a 2-outer to many groans, but he eventually offered his hand to shake.

Tipped $10 but wonder if it was too little (2nd place tipped $5). First dealer forgot to set the clock midway through first round, second dealer was slow. Even though I already knew, I did make sure to ask if tips were pooled first before tipping. My way of making floor know I would've tipped more if not for the slow guy.

Placed 52nd in Venetian slot tourney, good for $100 freeplay. Lost it all in Monopoly Big Event. Was down another $200 until Free Parking bonus bailed me out. Wonder why casinos don't pay out all their slot tourneys in freeplay.

Turning in the rental, I said I lost the keys at a club. "A strip club?" the attendant asked. He'd never seen a case of lost keys before.

Popped by Cheetah's to check on keys. Tuesdays were offering 2-for-1 drinks and $10 dances. Need to remember that.

Diana at door was friendly and sifted through whole box of keys, cell phones, watches. Some keyrings were huge, holding 10+ keys. Box contained all lost items since this year, then they donate to school for recycling.

No sign of my Suburu Forester, so I'm sure someone took it.

Stripper came up and looked through box with me. Sympathized with my story by putting her arm around me and feeling me up.

Losing keys has its benefits.


Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Smitten with a stripper from Zimbabwe

Sitting in Mirage poker room with Mr. Subliminal.

Waiting for $60+10 sit-n-go to start, Mr. Sub's at 1/2 with 93-year-old wearing Full Tilt hat (Tilt people bought him into the WSOP last year). Old dude apparently pretty good but takes forever to show his cards.

In slot tourney, finished right about the average I thought at 27,000. Awards are announced this afternoon.

Last night lost $800 on new Happy Days slots at The Palms. Killer game, had multiplier to 26x and 30x when free spin progressive triggered (10 and 7 free spins, respectively) but no more than a 70x win. Lots of potential though, just not enough bankroll.

Recovered $200 in Mr. Cashman, then lost $100 in Monopoly Big Event Wild Country.

Prevented tilt and losing more by going to Spearmint Rhino. Fell for first girl who approached. Cialis ("I can go for 36 hours") from Zimbabwe.

Pseudo-flirting (pseudo because you can't trust anything in a strip club) like a new annoying couple, talking double-entendres, joking deadpan about rules (no poking... no squirting... pinching's okay... is it okay to spit in this club... only once every hour... time for me to spit now). My type of girl, witty personality and rapport go a long way. That and she was very free with her hands. Hard to find combination, in real life or fantasy.

Ten dances later, she's still hanging out and chatting through three more songs. My friend was falling asleep again, wanted to leave. He suggested cab, but good time to make exit since only brought $200 (more, but freakin' Happy Days game). She seemed reluctant to want me to go, and she knew I had to end at 10 because only brought $200.

Considering stopping by again, before flight tonight.


Monday, July 07, 2008

Piranha poker and the drunk New Yorker

iPhone blogging is too annoying and the connection is too unreliable, that I trekked out to the Harrah's business center where I can enjoy paying $35 per hour for Internet access (or $10 every 15 minutes).

But heck, I spend more than that playing slots.

I sadly bubbled out of the Silverton slot tournament.

There were only 60 people after two dropped out. My final session was a dud, putting me in 22nd with the top 20 cashing. Maybe I jinxed myself by thinking I could easily place in the top 10.

Onto The Venetian, where I ran into Mr. Subliminal, who's also playing the tourney. Walked by him at the Venetian poker room, then ended up sitting next to each other in the first session.

We finished playing this morning, with me at 10,155. Average is probably 8500-9000. Still two sessions to go, and anything can happen as my Silverton experience shows. I don't know how many people are playing, but I figure 300-500 with the top 100 cashing, and 27,000 over the three sessions should be enough to get the $100 in freeplay.

The Venetian and suites are amazing and big (I don't remember where I parked the car), but I think I prefer the smaller size of Harrah's. I ended up double-booking myself at Harrah's anyway so that I could pick up the promotion of a free $100 as a travel reimbursement.

***

Yesterday I played the 2 p.m. poker tourney at Planet Hollywood with G-Money. It wasn't a technical rebuy, but you could re-enter by rebuying.

Play was wild, with many all-ins. A guy check-raised a rag flop with 10-8 (pair of 10s), and I pushed with pocket Jacks. He called, a 10 came on the turn, and I was out.

All within 5 minutes.

I tried re-entering, but there was a wait list, so sat in a 1/2 NL game with a Phil Hellmuthian guy, who had the height, high-pitched voice, and bravura. He also had a big stack in front of him and had been there for 25 hours straight.

I don't really enjoy playing poker with people like this. I know he's trying to tilt the table, but it's not a relaxing experience.

Plus I lost my stack when I raised all-in with a flush on the river and he beat me by one.

Planned to leave, but then the whole table changed when a drunk guy from Manhattan sat down.

He introduced himself by taking off his shirt at the table and changing into another one. He also briefly exposed himself with his low-hanging swim trunks.

He began winning without looking at his cards, calling huge bets and raises. "I'm luckier when I don't look at my cardssss," he said, prolonging the "s."

Right down to the end, with a board of an Ace on the flop and King on the river, a guy kept betting and showed AJ. The drunk guy never looked, called the river bet, then flipped his cards.

First one King.

The table ooohed.

Then another King.

The table erupted in shocked laughter, and the drunk guy dragged a $600 pot.

He was now up to $1000 and kept winning, whether looking at his cards or not. And he could've won even more, had he not constantly check-called.

"I don't like to raise," he said. "I'm not an asshole. I'm a nice guy."

I did notice, however, that he only checked when he had something. And when someone checked to him, he returned by checking. When he bet, he had nothing. But when he bet, it was hard to call because it'd be for 2x-10x the pot.

Someone bumped up against him by raising preflop (the drunk guy called every raise). Drunk guy bet $35 on the flop, and the other guy raised to $135. Drunk guy called. They checked the turn and river. Drunk guy shows Ace high to win.

Then it came around to my spanking when I looked at QQ. People began shifting their games and playing most anything, hoping to hit something big against him.

I raised to $15, had a few callers, and the flop was a Jack and rags.

I bet $35, and he raised to $70. I said, "I thought you said you don't raise."

Figuring I was good, I was going to move in, but wimped out and called. I had $300 behind and wanted to make sure no Ace or King fell.

The turn was an 8. I checked, intending to check-raise. But he checked.

River was Ace. I checked, he checked.

I thought I was good and happy to get the pot. He showed J8 for two pair.

I played it poorly, but also lost the least amount I could've.

"See?" he said. "I am a gentleman. I am not an asshole."

The more Coronas he drank, the drunker he got, and he'd call off huge bets thinking he had hands that he didn't.

He constantly thought he had straights.

One time he had a 4-card straight to someone's full house.

"I had a straight," he slurred when the pot was pushed to someone else.

"A full house beats a straight," the dealer said.

"But you didn't even have a straight," a player said.

When he remembered, he tipped dealers really well, one time as much as $35.

When he lost, he gave respect and a knuckle tap to the winner. When he won, he'd say, "You are a homosexual." Along with a variation. One was: "I hope you get a black dick in your ass."

Players were on the waiting list for our table. Our table was buying him drinks, and one offered him a pastrami sandwich from Earl of Sandwich. Anything to keep him there.

After a few hours, he lost all his money, then threw out everything he had in his wallet. He rebought for $82. The bills were still wet from him swimming.

Once losing that, he went to the ATM, saying he had $25,000 in his account "and I'm only 22." On the way, he climbed a table, did a dance, and began stripping. Karaoke began in the lounge next door, and he sang a song before being booted after adding the words "wet pussy."

I liked that the drunk guy shut up the Hellmuth guy, but the table was getting rowdy (made even more so by a maniac -- but not drunk -- guy from Amsterdam) and I had to check in to Venetian and Harrah's.

Finally at 11 p.m., I escaped, miraculously getting back to even (including the tournament buy-in) plus $7.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

Session 2 slots

Hung out at hooker bar till Chicago last call (4 a.m., no last call in Vegas casinos) celebrating iggy finishing Day 1. His Day 2 is Wednesday, when I'll unfortunately be gone.

Playing $1 video poker, hit 4 deuces for $400 (80 times my bet) and so surprised, I hit Otis. He and g-money on either side providing angel/devil commentary whether to hit double up. Though they were both angel. I was devil, wanting to try for it. Ultimately didn't but later did with a flush win of $25. Dealer's card: Ace. None of my cards matched the Ace (for a tie) so had no chance. Cashed out in disgust.

Witnessed a drunk Dan at Pokerati who was fine one second then made the Jekyll/Hyde turn before our eyes.

Slot point count:
1st 157100
7th 138150 (me)
20th 132400

One more session, 20 minutes from now.

Fewer players than I thought, at only 62. Unlike other tourneys (ahem Harrah's), Silverton kept prize pool the same and still awarding top 20. Huge equity in this thing.

I don't like being 5750 away from 20th, not as comfortable as 1st place's lead of 18950 on me. 5750 is one lucky spin, 18950 is three lucky spins.

Could all change, will know in next couple hours. I'd be happy maintaining 7th, for $500.


Saturday, July 05, 2008

Slot tourney update (or, aren't you tired of WSOP yet?)

With two sessions still to go, I'm 5th place in Silverton's $20k slot tourney. 1st place is $10k. 5th is worth $750.

Some advantages:
* seemingly fewer than 80 players (4 rounds of 20 players each over 3 sessions)
* top 20 payout
* currently small difference between 2nd and 5th (2nd pays $4k)
* some players with low scores will be discouraged and not play remaining sessions, more +ev for me
* fast stop enabled -- unlike other video slot tourneys, you can hit a button to stop all reels from spinning instead of waiting for each. I have more experience in this arena, knowing rhythm of pressing button
* seniors' hands will tire -- I have more stamina and can spin for hours without getting tired
* rubberneck effect -- on a big win, I don't pause to admire, just keep pressing on
* figure I can get in extra 3 spins per minute, 30 extra spins per 10-minute session
* luck still a factor, but more spins = more opportunities to win
* the game is Wild Bears where top award is 5 bears for 50,000 at max bet -- no one hit this in first session


A stripper stole my car keys

Blogging from iPhone.

Up for >24 hours in Vegas, as per usual.

Valiant battle with Life of Luxury Riches of Rome slot machine. $1897 playthrough, max $2.40 a spin = 790.42 spins before hitting Life of Luxury bonus. Only to not get any progressives. Really? Guy watching commiserated with me, saying all machines are tight now. Being the only one on bank, was chasing my own tiny progressive contribution. Not a good idea. Not a good idea to play slots anyway, but promotion has free dinner buffet for 300 points, and points don't come off. 'Course, no excuse having 1897 points since only 300 count. Down $800 before triggering again and retrigger twice for 30 spins. So much potential for top 3 progressives but kept getting bottom. That, two regular bonuses, and a 5-of-a-kind top award got back to even. Winner this round: grubby of Rome.

Al, iggy, g-money, miamidon at hooker bar (aka Shutters bar at Rio). Approached two hookers who turned out not to be when Main Event poker players they were waiting for showed up. I still claim they were, but irrefutable proof indicated otherwise. Played video poker next to Svetlana and chatted. I mean, come on. A girl named Svetlana playing Double Double Bonus by herself and being open to talking with a degenerate slot player? Winner this round: faux hookers.

Take group to Penthouse strip club. Not all that. Surprisingly, Al and Miamidon's first strip club visit in Vegas. Strippers hanging out at bar. Girl named Tricia (not Patricia because parents didn't want her nicknamed Fatty Patty if she became fat) introduces herself to me, says lazy strippers are her friends, would I be amenable to buying them a drink and dance? It's a strip club, honey, not junior prom. We guys shouldn't have to work. I have 0 dances. Winner this round: lazy strippers.

Head to Cheetah's. Dump $540 on dances, including two in VIP. Money seemed a bonus because originally down in Riches of Rome slot. Leaving backroom, rental car keys are missing. Search party looks, including manager, dj, bartender, server, bouncer. Videotape shows me getting dance but can't see table clear enough. Flashlights shine like searching for Jimmy Hoffa. No avail. Call rental company, call locksmith. 90 minutes later have new set of keys made from keycode for $100 + 20 tip. Shuddering what Dollar will charge. One of our group pissed off stripper for falling asleep (5 a.m.). Could be her. Winner this round: vengeful stripper.


Friday, July 04, 2008

4 minutes to lose $1000

Saw Hancock and enjoyed the first third before the Powers That Exec. Produce decided on the typical screenwriting structure plot twist that sets us up for Act 3. The camera holding on something too long was too obvious a tell, but thankfully the trailers were deceptive enough not to reveal anything, even though it seemingly gave everything away. (I didn't even know two other stars were in the movie besides Will Smith, and just because of that, they had to be more involved in the plot.)

There must've been half a dozen of these alert moments when just one would've sufficed. It's never good to have the audience ahead. Unless you want them to be (a la The Sixth Sense). To me, this tired foreshadowing is on the level of the movie cough. Whenever a movie character coughs, you know they're going to end up dying at the end.

Movies like Hancock and The Happening frustrate me because I know there're good movies rattling around in there. Hancock was on its way to exploring stereotypes, alcoholism, and even black male sexuality. It's an intriguing premise that could've been made more interesting if he were, say, destroyed by pop culture (being forced into the superhero mold, for example). We don't get any of that and instead receive the bottom remainders that ultimately leads to bad guys, a cliche origin story, and sequel potential.

***

When Joe was on his way, he texted that his ETA to my apartment was 10 minutes.

My apartment was about as clean as it was going to get, and all I had to do was wait before meeting him at the train station.

Ten minutes in grub time is dangerous, because it's very easy to deposit by credit card (Visa works) and play a few quick hands. And by hands, I don't mean poker. No, under time constraints, blackjack is the only way to go.

I won't dwell except to post the blackjack hand history (HyperUpload requires you to wait 23 seconds before downloading).

Suffice to say, four minutes go by and I'm down $1000. I could've put on Madonna and Justin Timberlake's "4 Minutes to Save the World" and would've been done before it ended. It began with $25 bets that led to $100, that led to a final tilting bet of all that I had left.

This cautionary gamble is more to remind myself to stay away from gambling when I leave to Vegas in a couple hours.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

"Do not lick Mr. Duke"

While making room for Joe's visit last week, I moved my computer next to my bed. The monitor can be swiveled, and I can now watch movies from bed. And play poker from bed. I finally have a use out of the wireless mouse other than throwing it across the room after a bad beat.

A side effect to playing from bed, however, is it's too easy to fall asleep. Especially when you've just returned home from Chipotle and a Chunky Strawberry (which is seemingly all granola, peanut butter, banana, and strawberry) from Jamba Juice.

It's 6 a.m. now, waking up from playing two tournaments last night. Checking the lobbies to see how I did, I busted out in the $100, but cashed in the $24, in the bottom third level. Full Tilt doesn't show players who are sitting out, which probably worked to my advantage.

That and I'm a mean tournament player when asleep.

***

While in North Carolina, I was easily able to live blog from my iPhone. Except for the airport, North Carolina was full of free WiFi hotspots. With so many people wired, it doesn't make sense why the whole country doesn't already have free WiFi. I guess Starbucks has to make their money somehow.

At the Duke Inn, there's a line of busts of Duke relatives.

Joe posed in front of one, pretending to lick the ear.

A security guard later approached and said in all seriousness, "Please do not lick Mr. Duke."

Brunch before the wedding was at the fun Top of the Hill (aka TOPO), where we ate outside, overlooked Franklin, and drank bottomless Arnold Palmers. After basketball games, the street below is crammed full of people.

The mansion where the crappy Pacifica broke down. Security cameras were housed under bubbles on either side. The birdhouse on the right is bigger than my apartment.

My Jeep Commander, the new stylin' car that took over for the crappy Pacifica.

Crashing the next door wedding for alcohol.

A friend's baby's favorite pose.

The delicious food, masked by the fruit I plunked down over the fried green tomatoes, brisket, pulled pork, and skewer of grilled vegetables (the tub of barbecue sauce can also be seen).

While in line, I picked up a cup and ladled in a heap of peach soup, which dripped to the side. Wiping it with the tablecloth, a friend said, "Yeah grub, that's class. Real classy there." And handed me a saucer.

At least I didn't try to kick birthday cake crumbs underneath a nonexistent rug, as another friend did once.

At the end of the line, I'm juggling the soup, plate, parfait, and drink, when Whitney, the cute server I was eyeing earlier, asked if she could help. I doubt adding even more fruit helped to impress her. She took the plate back with me to my table.

A friend asked, "Is this your personal assistant?"

I said, "She's also my bodyguard."

The weekend wasn't without some gambling.

Playing Chinese Poker with a newly opened deck of Bicycle cards from the gas station next door, I kept losing. Then we found 3 Jokers.

Sifting through the deck, we discovered there were no hearts, just a few clubs, and duplicates of most diamonds and spades.

They wouldn't exchange the purchase, so we just got the Aviator deck and played Chinese Poker till late.