I think I need a doctor. I generally don't go to doctors, just because I tend to rely on my body's natural defense mechanisms. I think my immune system is stronger because of it. In fact, when I broke my arm several months back was the first time I'd seen a doctor in about 16 years. I mean what the hell, am I gonna run off and get a pill everytime I don't feel so good? I try not to take medicine, even headache remedies. But boy do I feel rough. Actually, I've made it through two and a half days, so I'm not going to seek medical attention now, but this whole being cold and sweating at the same time thing is getting old.
I should feel better in another day or so. I should also have the job thing nailed down by then. In the mean time, sick or not, I'm hammering away at SNGs on FTP. The last couple days has gone ok, I cashed in the last 5. I've moved over to 9 player turbos instead of the 6 player deals. My thought process behind this revolves around the bubble. In a 6 man, the bubble has three players left, as only two get paid. At this point I am counting on one of the other two players to make a big mistake to get themselves busted, leaving myself and one other in the money. However, in a 9 man, the bubble has 4 players left, as 3 get paid. Of course the advantage here is that now there is an extra player who could make a mistake. So, in a 9 man, on the bubble, there is a 50% increase in the number of opponents who I can count on to make a mistake, 3 instead of 2. Of course we have to lose 6 players to reach the bubble instead of 3 in the 6 man version, but I still think it's easier to get there in the 9 man. The volitility of the game seems to be considerably lower.
So this is what I'm up to today. I feel worse than yesterday, but I'm giving the coffee a little extra time to get in there and do its job before I get started. I'll crush a few SNGs and probably play a few MTTS before the night is over.
If there are any DIO fans out there, I've never really been one, there is a version of Holy Diver that was recorded by Killswitch Engage that is beastly as shit. Go over here http://flemso123.imeem.com/music/vE4RhgtX/killswitch_engage_holy_diver/ and give it a listen. KSE rips it up.
TheTrooper97Vlog
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Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Woke Up Sick
I woke up sick today. I blame Rhodes and JJ, his lady friend. They each flew in to Vegas last night, one from NY with at least one plane change, the other from Atlanta. From one of the three known aircraft used to ship these two in, surely a bug of some sort clasped itself onto one of them. And I don't get sick usually, but the stuffiness, the sore throat, the lightheadedness, the tummy ache and the head ache would have me believe otherwise this fine December day in The Meadows.
The day of my last post, December 26th, I was hyper as hell all day and night. I was in the best mood I've been in in months. To celebrate, I snatched $5 from my "work clothes" fund and headed over to Sunset Galleria mall for a little treat. When I drove into the lot, I saw something that I found odd. There was an ice skating rink set up and quite a few skaters twirled round and round the track. There were trees and music, it was an interesting site to see, people ice skating in the desert. I stopped and watched them for a few minutes but it was bitter cold so I headed inside the mall.
Once inside, I hung a left and headed directly to Starbucks. Upon recieving my tall brew, I headed right out the door and to the foodcourt for my main destination, Cinnabon. I chose a "classic" from the menu and sat, trading back and forth, bite for sip. There's nothing like a quality cinnamin roll and a black cup of coffee, though I've had better than Cinnabon. Overall, it was quite a treat.
After that I headed home and ate spaghetti, I've been eating alot of that lately. Until you're forced to stretch your food money, It's hard to see just how much can be wasted on fast food as well as other restaurant fare. I never knew just how much I could eat for under $20. I mean, I can eat for a week or maybe more. Cans of Progresso soup and boxes of spaghetti even taste good. I sort of decided that even after I find a job and start raking in the cash, I'm gonna try to continue eating at home.
To top off the night I decided to head down to the strip and rail some live poker action for self-motivation. I pulled into the Bellagio self-parking at about midnight. First I went through the conservatory to take a final look at the Christmas display. They had these big reindeer made comlpetely from chestnuts. They were hanging overhead in a line as if in flight, pretty cool.
From there I made my way over to the poker room. I looked around a bit and then stopped on the rail right by a $30-$60 limit hold 'em table. I observed the mechanical nature of the game for a bit, mesmerized by the size of the pots. Huge mounds of $10 chips swelled in the center of the table with each developing hand, delicious.
Then I circled around through the room and settled on the rail once again, this time within reach if a $5-$10 no limit hold 'em game. First I took note of the stacks. Most of the chips were of the $10 variety, with a few $5 chips and $100 bills sprinkled around. But more than half of the players had well under a G-bar in front. A few had close to the minimum buy in of $400. Seat 1 had about $1400, seat 2 about the same, and seat 9, seemingly disinterested, with his head down, almost on the rail, reading the magazine in his lap, had just over $2000. I watched for a minute and then took notice of a hand that I'll describe for your hand-history loving pleasure.
The button was on seat 10. Seat 6, 8 and 9 limped for $10. The button folded and seat 1 made it 7 BBs, or $70, from the SB. He got one caller, seat 6. That brings the pot to $170. The flop showed 5s2sJd. After a long deliberation, SB bets out $110. Seat 6, who's food had arrived during the last hand was now enjoying a fork full of some asian dish. He dropped his fork and stacked 2 chips on top of a stack and slid the $220 over the line. SB restacked his bet making it $500 to go. Seat 6 thought for about 10 seconds and announced that he was all in. Upon bringing in the $500 from each and making that part of the pot $1170, the dealer informed SB that it would be $495 more to him. Seat 6 told SB that he knew he had the best hand and after a bit more chatter, SB mucked his hand, saying that he had KJ. Seat 6 offered to show if SB would tip the dealer $10, but he didn't do it. Damn it, I would love to know if I was right. I gave him a set of 5's or 2's, but we'll never know.
I've thought about the hand alot and the key element that was missing from my perspective was the last few hours of play. I knew nothing about the players or their relationship during this session. But it was fun to observe and mentally guess. What I did notice while watching was a game that I could beat. I do not believe that anyone at that table thinks more deeply about the game than me. There are many players that could squash me to dust, but not at that $5-$10 table. In time my friends, in time.
Well, my eyes are burning and I feel weak. I really have caught some sort of bug. There's no news from the job front yet, but I'm still optimistic. I have recieved a transfer into my FTP account with which I'll be playing some SNGs and MTTs. A friend decided to stake me for a bit. Wish us luck, I'd like to make us both some dollar bills.
I met up with a stranger last night to keep me alive
He spends all his money on gambling and guns to survive
I know you'd have gone insane if you saw what I saw
Now I've got to look for sanctuary from the law
The day of my last post, December 26th, I was hyper as hell all day and night. I was in the best mood I've been in in months. To celebrate, I snatched $5 from my "work clothes" fund and headed over to Sunset Galleria mall for a little treat. When I drove into the lot, I saw something that I found odd. There was an ice skating rink set up and quite a few skaters twirled round and round the track. There were trees and music, it was an interesting site to see, people ice skating in the desert. I stopped and watched them for a few minutes but it was bitter cold so I headed inside the mall.
Once inside, I hung a left and headed directly to Starbucks. Upon recieving my tall brew, I headed right out the door and to the foodcourt for my main destination, Cinnabon. I chose a "classic" from the menu and sat, trading back and forth, bite for sip. There's nothing like a quality cinnamin roll and a black cup of coffee, though I've had better than Cinnabon. Overall, it was quite a treat.
After that I headed home and ate spaghetti, I've been eating alot of that lately. Until you're forced to stretch your food money, It's hard to see just how much can be wasted on fast food as well as other restaurant fare. I never knew just how much I could eat for under $20. I mean, I can eat for a week or maybe more. Cans of Progresso soup and boxes of spaghetti even taste good. I sort of decided that even after I find a job and start raking in the cash, I'm gonna try to continue eating at home.
To top off the night I decided to head down to the strip and rail some live poker action for self-motivation. I pulled into the Bellagio self-parking at about midnight. First I went through the conservatory to take a final look at the Christmas display. They had these big reindeer made comlpetely from chestnuts. They were hanging overhead in a line as if in flight, pretty cool.
From there I made my way over to the poker room. I looked around a bit and then stopped on the rail right by a $30-$60 limit hold 'em table. I observed the mechanical nature of the game for a bit, mesmerized by the size of the pots. Huge mounds of $10 chips swelled in the center of the table with each developing hand, delicious.
Then I circled around through the room and settled on the rail once again, this time within reach if a $5-$10 no limit hold 'em game. First I took note of the stacks. Most of the chips were of the $10 variety, with a few $5 chips and $100 bills sprinkled around. But more than half of the players had well under a G-bar in front. A few had close to the minimum buy in of $400. Seat 1 had about $1400, seat 2 about the same, and seat 9, seemingly disinterested, with his head down, almost on the rail, reading the magazine in his lap, had just over $2000. I watched for a minute and then took notice of a hand that I'll describe for your hand-history loving pleasure.
The button was on seat 10. Seat 6, 8 and 9 limped for $10. The button folded and seat 1 made it 7 BBs, or $70, from the SB. He got one caller, seat 6. That brings the pot to $170. The flop showed 5s2sJd. After a long deliberation, SB bets out $110. Seat 6, who's food had arrived during the last hand was now enjoying a fork full of some asian dish. He dropped his fork and stacked 2 chips on top of a stack and slid the $220 over the line. SB restacked his bet making it $500 to go. Seat 6 thought for about 10 seconds and announced that he was all in. Upon bringing in the $500 from each and making that part of the pot $1170, the dealer informed SB that it would be $495 more to him. Seat 6 told SB that he knew he had the best hand and after a bit more chatter, SB mucked his hand, saying that he had KJ. Seat 6 offered to show if SB would tip the dealer $10, but he didn't do it. Damn it, I would love to know if I was right. I gave him a set of 5's or 2's, but we'll never know.
I've thought about the hand alot and the key element that was missing from my perspective was the last few hours of play. I knew nothing about the players or their relationship during this session. But it was fun to observe and mentally guess. What I did notice while watching was a game that I could beat. I do not believe that anyone at that table thinks more deeply about the game than me. There are many players that could squash me to dust, but not at that $5-$10 table. In time my friends, in time.
Well, my eyes are burning and I feel weak. I really have caught some sort of bug. There's no news from the job front yet, but I'm still optimistic. I have recieved a transfer into my FTP account with which I'll be playing some SNGs and MTTs. A friend decided to stake me for a bit. Wish us luck, I'd like to make us both some dollar bills.
I met up with a stranger last night to keep me alive
He spends all his money on gambling and guns to survive
I know you'd have gone insane if you saw what I saw
Now I've got to look for sanctuary from the law
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sweet December 26th
It's 45 degrees in the desert today but the sun is brutal. Make a left out of my apartment and go blind, and I don't wear sunglasses. Even here, in Starbucks with the shades pulled down, it's beating down on the back of my head, and that's not helping my headache. Be it summer or winter, I suppose one can't escape the desert sun.
I've been here for about twenty minutes and I just now found a position for my left leg so that this new, constant pain has stopped. It's worse today than it has been. It's that damn sciatic nerve. I read a little about it on Wikipedia and that seems to be where the problem is. According to my source, sleeping on the floor could surely cause Sciatica, which is pain caused by compression or irritation of one of five nerve roots that branch from the sciatic nerve, the longest and largest single nerve in the body. Needless to say, the minute I get a job and start earning, I'm buying a bed. Fuck poker, fuck a TV, fuck food, I'm buying a bed.
I'm so happy that this is the day after Christmas, now damn it people, take down all those trees and lights before I vomit. For some reason, I feel less lonely today, even though there's still no one around. But Christmas will do that to you. And I feel even more optimistic about my potential job, I should know by tomorrow. I'm ready to get at it. Like it or not, my promise to never work in a restaurant again is about to be broken, and damn it if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna squeeze every last dollar out of it that I can. I wouldn't be surprised if I work 14, 21, or even 28 days in a row. I tend to do that. I go on these work binges and scoop up alot of money giving myself no time to spend it. The strange thing about it is that with each day of the binge comes even more motivation. And working that many days in a row in a restaurant isn't easy, it could kill a guy, or make the guy kill himself. But I'm the Trooper, and I'm sick of being broke, so lets get this show on the road already. Today I seem to have found a new optimism concerning the new year ahead.
I had intended to give and update yesterday on the old guy in the wheelchair but I was too pissed off at poker to care. But upon hearing the old guy inquiring about wireless internet, I got up to inform him of a free hotspot across the way. I opened the door for him and we had a little conversation about where other free hotspots are and he mentioned his wife and their 2 desktops and their 2 laptops and how they have cable internet at home. He was the friendliest old guy I'd ever spoken to and it made me feel good to find out that he wasn't as lonely as I had imagined.
So, what to do with today? I'm having coffee obviously since I can not live without it. I slept too long and I have a headache but I'm getting jacked up on this coffee and I feel like taking on the world. Soon I'll come to the realization that I don't have shit to do and I'll settle down I suppose. But between coffee and Iron Maiden's song Phantom of the Opera, I'm jacked. I highly recommend that you give this song a listen, even if you don't like metal. The song is from the first Iron Maiden album so Paul Di'Anno is singing, but if you didn't stop it, the live version you're hearing now has Bruce Dickinson on vocals. Damn, the musical part in the middle really does something to me. At this point I simply can not wait until February when LadyEdwards will be flying out to attend the Maiden show with me in LA at The Forum. This will be her first time seeing them and she's in for quite a treat.
And now my friends, in the short time I've been typing this entry, that desert sun has descended beyond the mountains right behind me. As I look over my left shoulder, another day is ending. I miss it already.
Keep your distance, walk away, don't take his bait
Don't you stray, don't fade away
Watch your step, he's out to get you, come what may
Don't you stray, from the narrow way
I've been here for about twenty minutes and I just now found a position for my left leg so that this new, constant pain has stopped. It's worse today than it has been. It's that damn sciatic nerve. I read a little about it on Wikipedia and that seems to be where the problem is. According to my source, sleeping on the floor could surely cause Sciatica, which is pain caused by compression or irritation of one of five nerve roots that branch from the sciatic nerve, the longest and largest single nerve in the body. Needless to say, the minute I get a job and start earning, I'm buying a bed. Fuck poker, fuck a TV, fuck food, I'm buying a bed.
I'm so happy that this is the day after Christmas, now damn it people, take down all those trees and lights before I vomit. For some reason, I feel less lonely today, even though there's still no one around. But Christmas will do that to you. And I feel even more optimistic about my potential job, I should know by tomorrow. I'm ready to get at it. Like it or not, my promise to never work in a restaurant again is about to be broken, and damn it if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna squeeze every last dollar out of it that I can. I wouldn't be surprised if I work 14, 21, or even 28 days in a row. I tend to do that. I go on these work binges and scoop up alot of money giving myself no time to spend it. The strange thing about it is that with each day of the binge comes even more motivation. And working that many days in a row in a restaurant isn't easy, it could kill a guy, or make the guy kill himself. But I'm the Trooper, and I'm sick of being broke, so lets get this show on the road already. Today I seem to have found a new optimism concerning the new year ahead.
I had intended to give and update yesterday on the old guy in the wheelchair but I was too pissed off at poker to care. But upon hearing the old guy inquiring about wireless internet, I got up to inform him of a free hotspot across the way. I opened the door for him and we had a little conversation about where other free hotspots are and he mentioned his wife and their 2 desktops and their 2 laptops and how they have cable internet at home. He was the friendliest old guy I'd ever spoken to and it made me feel good to find out that he wasn't as lonely as I had imagined.
So, what to do with today? I'm having coffee obviously since I can not live without it. I slept too long and I have a headache but I'm getting jacked up on this coffee and I feel like taking on the world. Soon I'll come to the realization that I don't have shit to do and I'll settle down I suppose. But between coffee and Iron Maiden's song Phantom of the Opera, I'm jacked. I highly recommend that you give this song a listen, even if you don't like metal. The song is from the first Iron Maiden album so Paul Di'Anno is singing, but if you didn't stop it, the live version you're hearing now has Bruce Dickinson on vocals. Damn, the musical part in the middle really does something to me. At this point I simply can not wait until February when LadyEdwards will be flying out to attend the Maiden show with me in LA at The Forum. This will be her first time seeing them and she's in for quite a treat.
And now my friends, in the short time I've been typing this entry, that desert sun has descended beyond the mountains right behind me. As I look over my left shoulder, another day is ending. I miss it already.
Keep your distance, walk away, don't take his bait
Don't you stray, don't fade away
Watch your step, he's out to get you, come what may
Don't you stray, from the narrow way
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Christmas Day in the Desert
Well, here I am, in the desert for Christmas. I may as well be out there somewhere kicked back against a cactus with scorpians running all around. Perhaps I would be able to see the lights of Vegas way off in the distance, like a mirage.
I've never seen a donkfest quite like I've seen on FTP today. I got up and drove over to this Starbucks that is open until 4:00 today. I was short rolled anyway but 5 straight bust outs in 9 man turbos have killed my stake. QJ>AA, obviously on Christmas day. Now what the fuck do I do? I think I'll just go walk from casino to casino from one end of the strip to the other, making sure to circle through each and every poker room. Perhaps this will make me tired enough to just go back to sleep. Fuck.
I've never seen a donkfest quite like I've seen on FTP today. I got up and drove over to this Starbucks that is open until 4:00 today. I was short rolled anyway but 5 straight bust outs in 9 man turbos have killed my stake. QJ>AA, obviously on Christmas day. Now what the fuck do I do? I think I'll just go walk from casino to casino from one end of the strip to the other, making sure to circle through each and every poker room. Perhaps this will make me tired enough to just go back to sleep. Fuck.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Happy Christmas Eve
Good morning, and Happy Christmas Eve to you my friends. I'm sitting in the ole Starbucks here playing a few SNGs and drinking the all-to-appropriate Christmas Blend. I feel the Christmas spirit but I'm not too sure what to do with it. At the moment I'm annoyed with the filthiness of my laptop screen.
Sitting across the room from me, facing my direction, is an old guy in a wheel chair. He's wearing a blue cap, the front of which reads "USS VALLEY FORGE CVA 45". A quick Wikipedia search reveals that this was an aircraft carrier from which the first air strike of the Korean conflict was launched on 3 July 1950. The man appears to be about 75 or 80 years old. He's just sitting there, in his wheel chair, drinking a cup of the same Christmas Blend I am drinking. His face looks sad with his sunken, slow moving eyes. His mouth seems fixed in a frown, his arms crossed, and his hands, like the branches of a dead, leafless tree, are a bit twisted. I can't help but wonder if he's happy or sad, or if he's healthy or sick. Nothing about him says "happy" to me. He's here alone, but on the bright side, he's here. He has something in him that brought him out for a cup of coffee today.
Still, I look at him and wonder if he's alone this Christmas. And what will he do when Starbucks closes at 4:00. I feel compelled to talk to him, but I wouldn't want him to think I feel sorry for him. And I do, just for the simple fact that the man fought for his country, my country, and no matter what he's done, his life is approaching its end, just like the rest of us. But he's decades past where I am. He's much closer to his end than I am mine. I'd love to know otherwise, but he looks so sad and lonely. Obviously I'm deathly affraid of the time when I'll sit where he sits.
Then I see a couple of little kids running around with milk or hot chocolate and I think about how far down the road I am compared to them. I also think about how Christmas has changed since the time I was their age. I wonder what it will be like when I am the old guy's age. I will probably be just as broken down and lonely as he appears to be. It's so sick, it's like I'm the only one who sees him. Every time, at least twice now, that he's behind or beside someone who doesn't see him, and he utters "excuse me", my heart hurts.
Though he doesn't know it, I wish the man peace this Christmas.
Sitting across the room from me, facing my direction, is an old guy in a wheel chair. He's wearing a blue cap, the front of which reads "USS VALLEY FORGE CVA 45". A quick Wikipedia search reveals that this was an aircraft carrier from which the first air strike of the Korean conflict was launched on 3 July 1950. The man appears to be about 75 or 80 years old. He's just sitting there, in his wheel chair, drinking a cup of the same Christmas Blend I am drinking. His face looks sad with his sunken, slow moving eyes. His mouth seems fixed in a frown, his arms crossed, and his hands, like the branches of a dead, leafless tree, are a bit twisted. I can't help but wonder if he's happy or sad, or if he's healthy or sick. Nothing about him says "happy" to me. He's here alone, but on the bright side, he's here. He has something in him that brought him out for a cup of coffee today.
Still, I look at him and wonder if he's alone this Christmas. And what will he do when Starbucks closes at 4:00. I feel compelled to talk to him, but I wouldn't want him to think I feel sorry for him. And I do, just for the simple fact that the man fought for his country, my country, and no matter what he's done, his life is approaching its end, just like the rest of us. But he's decades past where I am. He's much closer to his end than I am mine. I'd love to know otherwise, but he looks so sad and lonely. Obviously I'm deathly affraid of the time when I'll sit where he sits.
Then I see a couple of little kids running around with milk or hot chocolate and I think about how far down the road I am compared to them. I also think about how Christmas has changed since the time I was their age. I wonder what it will be like when I am the old guy's age. I will probably be just as broken down and lonely as he appears to be. It's so sick, it's like I'm the only one who sees him. Every time, at least twice now, that he's behind or beside someone who doesn't see him, and he utters "excuse me", my heart hurts.
Though he doesn't know it, I wish the man peace this Christmas.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Merry Christmas to Everyone, and I Mean That
It hit me today, the Christmas spirit. I heard "Snoopy's Christmas" by The Royal Guardsmen on the radio while driving south on Las Vegas Blvd. I made a right turn into Town Square Las Vegas, a pretty cool outdoor mall at the south end of the strip, beyond Mandaly Bay, as the song began to play. I haven't heard that song in a few years and I got that nostalgic knot in my throat. The chorus is my favotire piece of Christmas music, except for maybe "O Holy Night". God forbid if I'd heard that song next, I may have burst into Christmas tears right there in the driver's seat. I found the song on Imeem.com and I'm listening to it repeatedly right now. It may seem funny, but I love it. Music has such a bountiful power over me and my emotions.
So it kinda hit me that this will be the loneliest Christmas of my entire life, and there have been some lonely ones. I've mentioned in the past that Christmas holds a special place in me, and it'll be kinda sad to be here in Vegas all alone, with no gifts, and no gifts to give, though it isn't about the gifts. Even Rhodes is away, lol. I'll figure out something to do. I'm not whining, I'm just thinking. With a few special people in mind, I truely wish everyone out there a very, merry Christmas. I hope the Christmas spirit touches you all.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
So it kinda hit me that this will be the loneliest Christmas of my entire life, and there have been some lonely ones. I've mentioned in the past that Christmas holds a special place in me, and it'll be kinda sad to be here in Vegas all alone, with no gifts, and no gifts to give, though it isn't about the gifts. Even Rhodes is away, lol. I'll figure out something to do. I'm not whining, I'm just thinking. With a few special people in mind, I truely wish everyone out there a very, merry Christmas. I hope the Christmas spirit touches you all.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
Friday, December 21, 2007
Perhaps I Needed Sleep
Good morning. It's about 5:45pm here in The Meadows. I've been up for a short while, not long. Although I was on the floor obviously, I was sleeping too well to hop up at any decent hour today. Between the DMV debacle and taking Rhodes to the airport, I was up at the butt crack of dawn the last two days.
So I may have a job tomorrow, I'm not sure. It's a waiter job in the daytime, so the money won't be great, but in a couple months I should move to the dinner shift and the dinner servers at this place make $300+ per night. I'll shovel shit for $300 a night. So I'll keep my fingers crossed on this one. Add that news to the fact that I just slept twelve straight hours and you'll find me in a fairly good mood this evening. It feels strange, but it is what it is.
It appears that I've found my "office" in Las Vegas. There's a Starbucks right on the corner by my apartment. I have about $100 still on FTP and a shit load of points. The focus right now is 600 point SNGs for the $26 token. I'm on a mission to parlay the 600 points into the token, then into the $75 token, then into a $310 win. The tokens are easy to get even though you have to win the SNG, second pays zilch. I may find a coffee house I like better, but for now this is the office.
So anyway, once I get a job and start bringing in some cash, I'll be back in action in the poker rooms. I still have plans for these slobs out here. Most of them suck and are just gambling so I stand to make big bucks once I can handle the swings. I'm not a world class player, but I'm far ahead of most of the players I've seen here, even the locals. Rhodes has found this to be true as well, he's squashing their little heads on a nightly basis.
Ok, back to work at the SNGs. This warning goes out to all the slobs at the tables right now, I'm coming. And when I get there, I'll be good and pissed from sitting on the rail this long. I'm hungry and you will feed me.
In one last breath
You'll feel this damned old soul
You'll see the things I see
For all these years
Of pain and sacrifice
You'll know the pain I know
Of all these things
I offer unto you
Infernal wisdom waits
Now unleashed
Like the flames of hate
My sacrifice is made
Every note
And every word you hear
Comes from deep within
An angry soul
That twists and turns inside
Pondering this life
Crimson eyes
Staring through your lies
Awakes the inner rage
Take my knife
Make my sacrifice
You're my burnt offering
Spill your blood
Offer me good omen
Make the sacrifice, the hour's close at hand
Burn your soul
Offer me good omen
Take your very life, this I command
So I may have a job tomorrow, I'm not sure. It's a waiter job in the daytime, so the money won't be great, but in a couple months I should move to the dinner shift and the dinner servers at this place make $300+ per night. I'll shovel shit for $300 a night. So I'll keep my fingers crossed on this one. Add that news to the fact that I just slept twelve straight hours and you'll find me in a fairly good mood this evening. It feels strange, but it is what it is.
It appears that I've found my "office" in Las Vegas. There's a Starbucks right on the corner by my apartment. I have about $100 still on FTP and a shit load of points. The focus right now is 600 point SNGs for the $26 token. I'm on a mission to parlay the 600 points into the token, then into the $75 token, then into a $310 win. The tokens are easy to get even though you have to win the SNG, second pays zilch. I may find a coffee house I like better, but for now this is the office.
So anyway, once I get a job and start bringing in some cash, I'll be back in action in the poker rooms. I still have plans for these slobs out here. Most of them suck and are just gambling so I stand to make big bucks once I can handle the swings. I'm not a world class player, but I'm far ahead of most of the players I've seen here, even the locals. Rhodes has found this to be true as well, he's squashing their little heads on a nightly basis.
Ok, back to work at the SNGs. This warning goes out to all the slobs at the tables right now, I'm coming. And when I get there, I'll be good and pissed from sitting on the rail this long. I'm hungry and you will feed me.
In one last breath
You'll feel this damned old soul
You'll see the things I see
For all these years
Of pain and sacrifice
You'll know the pain I know
Of all these things
I offer unto you
Infernal wisdom waits
Now unleashed
Like the flames of hate
My sacrifice is made
Every note
And every word you hear
Comes from deep within
An angry soul
That twists and turns inside
Pondering this life
Crimson eyes
Staring through your lies
Awakes the inner rage
Take my knife
Make my sacrifice
You're my burnt offering
Spill your blood
Offer me good omen
Make the sacrifice, the hour's close at hand
Burn your soul
Offer me good omen
Take your very life, this I command
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Crappy Birthday, But I'm Not Complaining
If I were a drinker, right now I'd be in the darkest, smelliest of dives, knocking back the gut-rottenest booze I could get. I'd be good at it too, being a sloppy drunk. It's too bad, or is it good, that I swore of the stuff before I ever took a drink. But judging from my father, I'd be a pro.
See, the way I feel today, I like feeling this way. I feel half dead, barely able to comprehend anything said to me, kind of blissful in a sleep deprived, eye-tingling state. This is the mood that coffee shops were made for, and as you could guess, that's where I am, drowning my sorrows in a tall cup filled with a triple grande two-pump mocha. That's my drink. If I had taken the time to search out a darker, more artsy type of joint, I'd be there. But for tonight, Starbucks will do.
Today's my birthday, not that I really care. I stopped caring about December ninteenth years and years ago. To me, it's just, (ummm, I had to check), wednesday, yeah, that's it. It's a good thing too because today has been filled since 5:15 am with misery. I mean I did get a sweet text at 1:31 am that made it's way to me from London, England, that's where LadyEdwards is spending the holiday season. It was a "Happy Birthday" text and it certainly made me feel good. But when I woke up a bit after 5:00am this morning and headed over to the DMV, things headed south at mach 2.
I waited outside in the cold from 6:30am until 7:40am to be number 6 on "standby" status. See, because of traffic violations in the past four years, I have to take a driving test to attain a Nevada driver's license. The earliest appointment time for this is at the end of January and well, my South Carolina driver's license expires today. But I had accepted this. I was ready to take the test like some 15 year old. To make a long story short, between my broken turn signals and Rhode's lack of proof of insurance on his car, I got up and spent 2.5 hours at the DMV watching an apparently insane person pace back and forth in front of where I was sitting for absotuly nothing. No driving test, no driver's license. At 9:00am I headed back to the comfort of my bedroom floor, home sweet home.
I slept from about 11:00am until about 3:00pm. Without going into details, I got 2 more pieces of bad news. So the only thing good is that I'm sitting in a dimly lit Starbucks feeling dreary and gloomy. How odd is that, that I enjoy these feelings? So It's just another day and I'm just a little bit closer to the edge. The battle between Good and Evil rages on inside me. Will I find myself a little too close to the edge to turn back? Will Evil win the war? Nah, that's just a fantasy. Good is trapped inside and I don't think it'll ever let go. But what a fantasy it is, the thought of turning down a path of ciminal brilliance. I've always been of the opinion that I'd make a great criminal mastermind, that I'd be one of those who could get away millions.
So in light of the shitty birthday, I'm quite content in my sleepiness. Who knows, I may hatch a plan to do something a slight bit devious, albeit legal, later on tonight or the wee hours of the morning. Wish me luck in that kids, I'm sure I need it.
The ponies run, the girls are young
The odds are there to beat
You win awhile, and then it's done
Your little winning streak
And summoned now to deal
With your invincible defeat
You live your life as if it's real
A thousand kisses deep
See, the way I feel today, I like feeling this way. I feel half dead, barely able to comprehend anything said to me, kind of blissful in a sleep deprived, eye-tingling state. This is the mood that coffee shops were made for, and as you could guess, that's where I am, drowning my sorrows in a tall cup filled with a triple grande two-pump mocha. That's my drink. If I had taken the time to search out a darker, more artsy type of joint, I'd be there. But for tonight, Starbucks will do.
Today's my birthday, not that I really care. I stopped caring about December ninteenth years and years ago. To me, it's just, (ummm, I had to check), wednesday, yeah, that's it. It's a good thing too because today has been filled since 5:15 am with misery. I mean I did get a sweet text at 1:31 am that made it's way to me from London, England, that's where LadyEdwards is spending the holiday season. It was a "Happy Birthday" text and it certainly made me feel good. But when I woke up a bit after 5:00am this morning and headed over to the DMV, things headed south at mach 2.
I waited outside in the cold from 6:30am until 7:40am to be number 6 on "standby" status. See, because of traffic violations in the past four years, I have to take a driving test to attain a Nevada driver's license. The earliest appointment time for this is at the end of January and well, my South Carolina driver's license expires today. But I had accepted this. I was ready to take the test like some 15 year old. To make a long story short, between my broken turn signals and Rhode's lack of proof of insurance on his car, I got up and spent 2.5 hours at the DMV watching an apparently insane person pace back and forth in front of where I was sitting for absotuly nothing. No driving test, no driver's license. At 9:00am I headed back to the comfort of my bedroom floor, home sweet home.
I slept from about 11:00am until about 3:00pm. Without going into details, I got 2 more pieces of bad news. So the only thing good is that I'm sitting in a dimly lit Starbucks feeling dreary and gloomy. How odd is that, that I enjoy these feelings? So It's just another day and I'm just a little bit closer to the edge. The battle between Good and Evil rages on inside me. Will I find myself a little too close to the edge to turn back? Will Evil win the war? Nah, that's just a fantasy. Good is trapped inside and I don't think it'll ever let go. But what a fantasy it is, the thought of turning down a path of ciminal brilliance. I've always been of the opinion that I'd make a great criminal mastermind, that I'd be one of those who could get away millions.
So in light of the shitty birthday, I'm quite content in my sleepiness. Who knows, I may hatch a plan to do something a slight bit devious, albeit legal, later on tonight or the wee hours of the morning. Wish me luck in that kids, I'm sure I need it.
The ponies run, the girls are young
The odds are there to beat
You win awhile, and then it's done
Your little winning streak
And summoned now to deal
With your invincible defeat
You live your life as if it's real
A thousand kisses deep
Sunday, December 16, 2007
The Streets Downtown
So last night I was feeling kind of low. I'm in Vegas, broke, looking for a crappy job. I have about $100 on FTP and I played a few SNGs and broke even. I got a bit bored with that and at about 2:00am I hopped in the cavalier and headed for downtown Vegas, just to stroll around as I haven't been outside of a car down there since about '03 or '04, I can't remember when.
So I pulled into the first garage that read "free parking" and moments later I was walking through a dumpster of a parking facility. This place was scary, after all, it was the Las Vegas Club. There may have been a time when it would have been considered upscale, but today it's a dump. I exited the elevator and walked right into one of the most hideous sounds my ears have ever heard. It was karaoke at its worst. The punk rocker chic was wailing away and the mic was absurdly loud. I quickly made my way past and into the main casino. What I saw there was about what I expected. The place was filled about 1/4 the way full with the most hopeless of souls. These people have been chasing that jackpot high for decades. They all looked like they were waiting to die, right at the machines. It was sad, depressing, and I was already depressed. I didn't really need to witness this.
I walked on past the rows of slots and video poker, closer and closer to the battle cry being bellowed from the throats of the craps players. The way they were hooting and hollering I figured the table must be on fire and a fortune was being won by the warriors. As I drew close enough to see the felt, I noticed an array of $5 bets spread around the layout and realised that with each scream, enough money was won to purchase a triple grande cafe mocha from Starbucks. Kill me now.
Out the door and onto Fremont street I stepped. It wasn't very crowded, a few cowboys and a few homeless people scattered about, all of them intoxicated. The air was quite brisk at 35 degrees so not having a jacket on, I quick stepped my way to Binion's Horseshoe. I suppose they should call it Harrah's Horseshoe now. The place didn't feel the same as it once did, to me anyway. I remember the first time I visited Vegas. I had just won over $3000, killing the blackjack game on the casino cruise in Myrtle Beach and had found a flight the next day to Vegas. Upon landing I had a "private car" take me to the Golden Nugget. After I checked into the hotel, down the elevator, across the street, and straight to a craps game in Binion's I went. I bought in for $100, bet $60 "outside", and 45 minutes later I had $1700 on the rail in front of me plus about $500 spread across the layout. I was hitting hop-bets, yo bets, and myself and two other shooters made 65 million numbers. I was higher on gambling that night than I've ever been before, or since. The place had a certain feel to it. It was dark, dingy, and it felt like it was run by seedy criminals. But it feels different now. It's probably all in my head.
No matter the atmosphere, I walked around until I found the poker room. There were about 4 tables running. I think 3 were 1-2 NL and the other was a low limit game. I looked at the pictures of the old poker players who were made famous along with the room itself. It was intersting, but only for about a minute. Back through the casino, out the door, and across the street I went.
The Golden Nugget was a bit busier than the Horseshoe. The tables were packed with cowboys and the place had a warmer feel. There were still helpless degenerates, but they blended in a bit better. I made my way back to the poker room and found a place where I wish I'd played my TV and bed money. The room is quite small but feels warm and inviting. There were some older people playing with a few young bucks sprinkled in. I watched a couple 1-2 NL games for a bit and noticed that I could destroy these games. I saw some really bad play. These people were gambling. The version of TheTrooper97 that got $1100 behind at the Gaelic game one saturday night only to come back and cash out over $1400 would kick the shit out of these slobs. And the 1-2 has no cap on the buy in, $100 minimum, $100,000,000,000 maximum. One guy had about 20 blacks stacked in front of him. A little dribble started to form at the corner of my mouth and I had to leave.
So I was interested in seeing these sights of downtown, but my own lack of means had me wanting to go back to the cold floor of my apartment. As I exited the Golden Nugget, I looked to my right and saw a heart-hurting sight. This poor soul was standing in front of a garbage can. I saw him reach inside and pull out a beer bottle. He held it up to the light in an attempt to peek through the glass, then he poured the remains into a beer bottle he held in his other hand. He looked up at me and I looked away, but only for a second. I just had to look back and see if I actually saw what I thought I saw. Yep, the poor guy was collecting backwash so he could have himself a drink. That may have been the saddest thing I've seen yet. I normally wouldn't feel bad because the guy was looking for beer, not food or something important. But it was important to him, and that's what matters in this story. Who knows why he is where he is. Maybe it's his own fault, or maybe he did all he could. Was it gambling? Drugs? Alcohol? Maybe the world just discarded him, perhaps as some sort of punishment for a crime he may not have even realised he commited. I look at him and pray for the strength to never fall into his shoes. God help him.
As I headed back inside the Las Vegas Club on my way to the parking garage, I felt forlorn. Melancholy came over me. I felt sorry for the homeless guy and for all the hopeless gamblers, futilely chasing that jackpot with their all-or-nothing standpoints. I was reminded of a story of a panhandler who would take his change into the Four Queens every night and put it through a slot machine. One night he hit a jackpot and took the winnings to the roulette table. Once there, he put it all on one number and hit. He went on to hit his number several times and ran his stake to over a million dollars. The casino gave the guy a comped room and treated him like royalty. But the poor guy kept pushing his luck until he went completely broke at the craps table, and the casino promtly removed him from the premises. As I thought of this, I passed by an empty roulette table. Feeling nostalgic and romantic, I turned and went back. The roulette dealer was about 70 years old. He had a bad eye, perhaps blind, and a hearing aid of some sort. I had to say it twice, "Put this all on black", as I pulled my last $20 bill from my left pocket and placed it on the layout. "That will buy you a nice steak dinner" the old dealer said as the little white ball bouced around and settled into a red slot. I didn't even notice the number, just did a double take to make sure it was indeed red. Penniless, I headed for the car.
I'm counting nocturnal hours
Drowned visions in haunted sleep
Faint flickering of your powers
Leaks out to show what you keep
Pull me down again
And guide me into pain
So I pulled into the first garage that read "free parking" and moments later I was walking through a dumpster of a parking facility. This place was scary, after all, it was the Las Vegas Club. There may have been a time when it would have been considered upscale, but today it's a dump. I exited the elevator and walked right into one of the most hideous sounds my ears have ever heard. It was karaoke at its worst. The punk rocker chic was wailing away and the mic was absurdly loud. I quickly made my way past and into the main casino. What I saw there was about what I expected. The place was filled about 1/4 the way full with the most hopeless of souls. These people have been chasing that jackpot high for decades. They all looked like they were waiting to die, right at the machines. It was sad, depressing, and I was already depressed. I didn't really need to witness this.
I walked on past the rows of slots and video poker, closer and closer to the battle cry being bellowed from the throats of the craps players. The way they were hooting and hollering I figured the table must be on fire and a fortune was being won by the warriors. As I drew close enough to see the felt, I noticed an array of $5 bets spread around the layout and realised that with each scream, enough money was won to purchase a triple grande cafe mocha from Starbucks. Kill me now.
Out the door and onto Fremont street I stepped. It wasn't very crowded, a few cowboys and a few homeless people scattered about, all of them intoxicated. The air was quite brisk at 35 degrees so not having a jacket on, I quick stepped my way to Binion's Horseshoe. I suppose they should call it Harrah's Horseshoe now. The place didn't feel the same as it once did, to me anyway. I remember the first time I visited Vegas. I had just won over $3000, killing the blackjack game on the casino cruise in Myrtle Beach and had found a flight the next day to Vegas. Upon landing I had a "private car" take me to the Golden Nugget. After I checked into the hotel, down the elevator, across the street, and straight to a craps game in Binion's I went. I bought in for $100, bet $60 "outside", and 45 minutes later I had $1700 on the rail in front of me plus about $500 spread across the layout. I was hitting hop-bets, yo bets, and myself and two other shooters made 65 million numbers. I was higher on gambling that night than I've ever been before, or since. The place had a certain feel to it. It was dark, dingy, and it felt like it was run by seedy criminals. But it feels different now. It's probably all in my head.
No matter the atmosphere, I walked around until I found the poker room. There were about 4 tables running. I think 3 were 1-2 NL and the other was a low limit game. I looked at the pictures of the old poker players who were made famous along with the room itself. It was intersting, but only for about a minute. Back through the casino, out the door, and across the street I went.
The Golden Nugget was a bit busier than the Horseshoe. The tables were packed with cowboys and the place had a warmer feel. There were still helpless degenerates, but they blended in a bit better. I made my way back to the poker room and found a place where I wish I'd played my TV and bed money. The room is quite small but feels warm and inviting. There were some older people playing with a few young bucks sprinkled in. I watched a couple 1-2 NL games for a bit and noticed that I could destroy these games. I saw some really bad play. These people were gambling. The version of TheTrooper97 that got $1100 behind at the Gaelic game one saturday night only to come back and cash out over $1400 would kick the shit out of these slobs. And the 1-2 has no cap on the buy in, $100 minimum, $100,000,000,000 maximum. One guy had about 20 blacks stacked in front of him. A little dribble started to form at the corner of my mouth and I had to leave.
So I was interested in seeing these sights of downtown, but my own lack of means had me wanting to go back to the cold floor of my apartment. As I exited the Golden Nugget, I looked to my right and saw a heart-hurting sight. This poor soul was standing in front of a garbage can. I saw him reach inside and pull out a beer bottle. He held it up to the light in an attempt to peek through the glass, then he poured the remains into a beer bottle he held in his other hand. He looked up at me and I looked away, but only for a second. I just had to look back and see if I actually saw what I thought I saw. Yep, the poor guy was collecting backwash so he could have himself a drink. That may have been the saddest thing I've seen yet. I normally wouldn't feel bad because the guy was looking for beer, not food or something important. But it was important to him, and that's what matters in this story. Who knows why he is where he is. Maybe it's his own fault, or maybe he did all he could. Was it gambling? Drugs? Alcohol? Maybe the world just discarded him, perhaps as some sort of punishment for a crime he may not have even realised he commited. I look at him and pray for the strength to never fall into his shoes. God help him.
As I headed back inside the Las Vegas Club on my way to the parking garage, I felt forlorn. Melancholy came over me. I felt sorry for the homeless guy and for all the hopeless gamblers, futilely chasing that jackpot with their all-or-nothing standpoints. I was reminded of a story of a panhandler who would take his change into the Four Queens every night and put it through a slot machine. One night he hit a jackpot and took the winnings to the roulette table. Once there, he put it all on one number and hit. He went on to hit his number several times and ran his stake to over a million dollars. The casino gave the guy a comped room and treated him like royalty. But the poor guy kept pushing his luck until he went completely broke at the craps table, and the casino promtly removed him from the premises. As I thought of this, I passed by an empty roulette table. Feeling nostalgic and romantic, I turned and went back. The roulette dealer was about 70 years old. He had a bad eye, perhaps blind, and a hearing aid of some sort. I had to say it twice, "Put this all on black", as I pulled my last $20 bill from my left pocket and placed it on the layout. "That will buy you a nice steak dinner" the old dealer said as the little white ball bouced around and settled into a red slot. I didn't even notice the number, just did a double take to make sure it was indeed red. Penniless, I headed for the car.
I'm counting nocturnal hours
Drowned visions in haunted sleep
Faint flickering of your powers
Leaks out to show what you keep
Pull me down again
And guide me into pain
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Fastly Approaching Rock Bottom, Face First
It's a sort of twisted feeling. I've felt this way before, but not quite like today. I suppose it's been oncoming since I set off on my drive to Las Vegas from G-vegas. But no, I felt it when Rhodes and I came to Vegas on November 1st for reconnaissance, so who knows. All I know is that it's getting worse. I feel like I'm running out of time in life. I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I don't mean geographically, mind you, but in other senses. I'm broke, I'm lonely, I'm homesick, and there's nothing for me at home. I have no place, nobody, or at least that's how I feel. Where is my place in the world? Who am I suppose to be with? What am I suppose to be doing?
Yet I'm happy to be in Vegas. This is like the start of a new life. If only I were 21 years old with $100K in the bank. Well, life would be good, right? I'd be in the poker capital with a roll. Instead, I arrived in Vegas with almost no money. Oh, I had enough to buy a TV and a bed, but the poker gods ripped that out from under me upon my decision to put it all on the line for the chance at building a roll. I should know by now, you can't play without a roll. No matter how many great decisions you make or how many times you get it in on the turn as a 6.33 to 1 favorite, the fates find a way to kick you right in the jollies.
Upon dealing a few hands at a dealing school a couple days ago, I discovered that my underground dealing style is riddled with nasty habits. Switching the deck into my right hand, rolling the deck over when bringing in the bets from my left side, not pulling the rake at the right time, even my shuffle, which I thought to be perfect, is a time waster. The guys at the school really know their stuff. And what about procedures pertaing to tapping in or out? I have no experience with that. Sure I'm quick and I pitch the cards well, but that won't pass an audition. I bought a dealing handbook but I feel that dealing school would be the best way for me to be shown proper technique and mechanincs by the experts. The thing is, it costs money that I don't have, I wish I'd gone down to the school first thing. But the reality is that no one needs poker dealers at the moment. Even if I was the perfect dealer, I wouldn't be able to find a job.
So I've decided to take a nice step backwards and get a job in a restaurant. At this point I don't give a shit if I'm a server, a bartender, or even a busser or food runner, I just need a job. I'm not happy about it, if fact I'm downright embarrassed. What the hell am I doing looking for a job bussing fucking tables? What a let down. But I refuse to starve and I'm not quite at the point where I'm ready to embark on a career in crime. Let's hope I don't get to that point.
So here's the plan. I'm gonna get one or two jobs and bust my ass for a few months. I'm gonna read the dealer's handbook and get all the procedures down and maybe even take an older dealer from MGM up on his offer for a lesson. Then when World Series time rolls around, I'll try to get a job dealing there. I know another guy who says he can help me get in, and he told me they make quite a nice sum of money for those six weeks. At the end of the Series, hopefully I'll have enough money to quit everthing and play cards. The problem with this plan is that I already feel like I'm running out of time and planning to do what I want 7 months from now is depressing. I want what I want when I want it. I want... to play cards... now.
But even if I fell into a bankroll tomorrow, and started playing cards full time, and was making bank, I still wouldn't be happy. I know this and that's what's so depressing about putting together a game plan. Sure, it looks good on paper. But will I be happy after the Series when I have the roll to play? Off and on maybe, but there are deeper voids in my life. I try to remain hopeful, but if you ask me today, I look into the future and see myself as an extremely lonely soul, trying his damnedest to figure out what went wrong. What mistake did I make that was horrible enough that I had to spend all this time alone? Why did I have to spend so much time doing things I didn't want to do? Was it that one thing that I did when I was 21? I didn't even mean to do it. Nor, despite the evidence, do I know for sure if I even made a mistake. Did I damn myself then? Is there no way to repay that mistake? The obvious isn't the right thing to do. Is that person not happy? I'll never know.
Honesty, integrity, work ethic, niceness, morals, they're not enough I suppose. I wouln't intentionally hurt a flea, so long as the flea didn't try to hurt me. And even then I'd feel bad. Even way back when I busted that guys nose wide open over disrespecting my girlfriend and picking a fight with me, I felt remorseful and sorry for the poor, pathetic slob. But what has all this gotten me? Nothing but let downs and disappointments.
If I had it all to do over again, there are quite a few things I'd change. But I can't go back, all I can do is try to go forward. There are a few things I can do to get my life on a better track right now. A few of them will help my self confidence immensely. As soon as I relieve the stress of being dead broke and on the verge of being hungry in Vegas, I'll begin work on these items.
I feel pathetic and I actually hope no one reads this.
There is failure inside
This test I can't persist
Kept back by the enigma
No criterias demanded here
Deadly patterns made my wreath
Prosperous in your ways
Pale ghost in the corner
Pouring a caress on your shoulder
Puzzled by shrewd innocence
Runs a thick tide beneath
Ushered into inner graves
Nails bleeding from the struggle
It is the end for the weak at heart
Always the same
A lullaby for the ones who've lost all
Reeling inside
My gleaming eye in your necklace reflects
Stare of primal regrets
You turn your back and you walk away
Never again
Yet I'm happy to be in Vegas. This is like the start of a new life. If only I were 21 years old with $100K in the bank. Well, life would be good, right? I'd be in the poker capital with a roll. Instead, I arrived in Vegas with almost no money. Oh, I had enough to buy a TV and a bed, but the poker gods ripped that out from under me upon my decision to put it all on the line for the chance at building a roll. I should know by now, you can't play without a roll. No matter how many great decisions you make or how many times you get it in on the turn as a 6.33 to 1 favorite, the fates find a way to kick you right in the jollies.
Upon dealing a few hands at a dealing school a couple days ago, I discovered that my underground dealing style is riddled with nasty habits. Switching the deck into my right hand, rolling the deck over when bringing in the bets from my left side, not pulling the rake at the right time, even my shuffle, which I thought to be perfect, is a time waster. The guys at the school really know their stuff. And what about procedures pertaing to tapping in or out? I have no experience with that. Sure I'm quick and I pitch the cards well, but that won't pass an audition. I bought a dealing handbook but I feel that dealing school would be the best way for me to be shown proper technique and mechanincs by the experts. The thing is, it costs money that I don't have, I wish I'd gone down to the school first thing. But the reality is that no one needs poker dealers at the moment. Even if I was the perfect dealer, I wouldn't be able to find a job.
So I've decided to take a nice step backwards and get a job in a restaurant. At this point I don't give a shit if I'm a server, a bartender, or even a busser or food runner, I just need a job. I'm not happy about it, if fact I'm downright embarrassed. What the hell am I doing looking for a job bussing fucking tables? What a let down. But I refuse to starve and I'm not quite at the point where I'm ready to embark on a career in crime. Let's hope I don't get to that point.
So here's the plan. I'm gonna get one or two jobs and bust my ass for a few months. I'm gonna read the dealer's handbook and get all the procedures down and maybe even take an older dealer from MGM up on his offer for a lesson. Then when World Series time rolls around, I'll try to get a job dealing there. I know another guy who says he can help me get in, and he told me they make quite a nice sum of money for those six weeks. At the end of the Series, hopefully I'll have enough money to quit everthing and play cards. The problem with this plan is that I already feel like I'm running out of time and planning to do what I want 7 months from now is depressing. I want what I want when I want it. I want... to play cards... now.
But even if I fell into a bankroll tomorrow, and started playing cards full time, and was making bank, I still wouldn't be happy. I know this and that's what's so depressing about putting together a game plan. Sure, it looks good on paper. But will I be happy after the Series when I have the roll to play? Off and on maybe, but there are deeper voids in my life. I try to remain hopeful, but if you ask me today, I look into the future and see myself as an extremely lonely soul, trying his damnedest to figure out what went wrong. What mistake did I make that was horrible enough that I had to spend all this time alone? Why did I have to spend so much time doing things I didn't want to do? Was it that one thing that I did when I was 21? I didn't even mean to do it. Nor, despite the evidence, do I know for sure if I even made a mistake. Did I damn myself then? Is there no way to repay that mistake? The obvious isn't the right thing to do. Is that person not happy? I'll never know.
Honesty, integrity, work ethic, niceness, morals, they're not enough I suppose. I wouln't intentionally hurt a flea, so long as the flea didn't try to hurt me. And even then I'd feel bad. Even way back when I busted that guys nose wide open over disrespecting my girlfriend and picking a fight with me, I felt remorseful and sorry for the poor, pathetic slob. But what has all this gotten me? Nothing but let downs and disappointments.
If I had it all to do over again, there are quite a few things I'd change. But I can't go back, all I can do is try to go forward. There are a few things I can do to get my life on a better track right now. A few of them will help my self confidence immensely. As soon as I relieve the stress of being dead broke and on the verge of being hungry in Vegas, I'll begin work on these items.
I feel pathetic and I actually hope no one reads this.
There is failure inside
This test I can't persist
Kept back by the enigma
No criterias demanded here
Deadly patterns made my wreath
Prosperous in your ways
Pale ghost in the corner
Pouring a caress on your shoulder
Puzzled by shrewd innocence
Runs a thick tide beneath
Ushered into inner graves
Nails bleeding from the struggle
It is the end for the weak at heart
Always the same
A lullaby for the ones who've lost all
Reeling inside
My gleaming eye in your necklace reflects
Stare of primal regrets
You turn your back and you walk away
Never again
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Poker's Unwelcoming
Hi there, and good morning. It's 5:00 pm here in Vegas and I'm just getting out and about. Today will be the first day since I arrived that I haven't been and won't be inside a casino. No, today, or tonight rather, will be spent letting reality sink in.
See, I arrived here in Vegas with a minimal amount of money to my name, and it was all borrowed. I could have bought a bed and a TV, but instead I decided to take a few shots at the poker tables in hopes of putting off the job hunting, perhaps forever. So now I'm locked into sleeping on the floor and let me tell you, it's not as comfortable as I remember it from years ago, it is literally a pain in the ass. I know I mentioned going on a video poker rampage, but I didn't lose very much on that, and it's over. But the cards have been very unkind at the poker tables.
There was a $650 pot and a $550 pot that were to be mine except for brutal, online-esque suck outs after the money was all in. That $1200 alone would give me another week or so to play, but whatever. Those beats would always sting, but I really needed a few hands to hold in the beginning here, and that just hasn't happened. I'll run down the events of the last few days at the tables.
The Date: Wed 12-5
The Scene: Caesars Palace 1-3 game
The Happenings: I'll admit that in this session I really didn't play well. I made an overly aggro push on a guy when he had 2 pair. Cards didn't come my way in which case the goal should have been to protect my stack. Shit happens.
The Results: -$434
The Date: Wed 12-5
The Scene: Planet Hollywood 1-2 game
The Happenings: I shook off my horrific play at Caesars and sat with an almost perfect attitude. I played good poker and had run my initial $200 buy in to about $350. There was a crazy guy at the table. He was comical and he ordered two large pizzas from some place on Tropicana Ave. and allowed the whole table to share. The atmosphere was fun, that is until I looked down at QQ UTG+1 and raised to $12. FunnyPizzaGuy had expressed boardom with suggestions of having everyone put $20 in blind. He was on the button for this hand and repopped me to $30. I knew he was crazy but I also knew he had a hand. I called. The flop brought QT9 and I knew that leading was most certainly my best play. I fired $20 and he called. The turn brought an off suit 6 and I steered the train towards value town and led for $60 into the $100 pot. He looked at me and said he was all in, and he had me covered. KT was not a possibilty given my image and I immediately called. The river brought a K and he instantly tabled KK for the higher set. I'm sure I turned green as I felt like puking all over the river card while the $$650+ pot was pushed to him.
The Results: -$201
The Date: Thurs 12-6
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: Not much to tell. A big mouth made a comment about my tight play. He knew everything about everything and always thought he knew what everyone had. I got mouthy with him after I made a huge 3rd reraise from the button and he was telling me what I had. I tried to bet him but he shut up. Then when he raised from the middle I called from the button with 3s2s. 3 players saw the flop fall 933. BB bet and BigMouth raised to an unknown amount, even to him, about $70. I shoveled and he looked perplexed. He finally called, showed me 88, and lost his stack. Mmmm, that felt good.
The Resluts: +$142
The Date: Fri 12-7
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: I was sitting with even more crazy drunk British people. I forgot to mention that Vegas was packed with Brits for the big fight at MGM. I had AK in the SB and limped with about 4 others. The flop brought A24 and I led for $15. BB shoved for like $70 and his crazy $1400 stack having british friend called. I came over the top for $250 total and the crazy Brit mumbled something about having a straight draw as well and he called me with bloody rubish, A3. The 5 reared its ugly head right on the turn and once again, the $550+ pot was pushed to the wrong fucking guy.
The Results: -$167
The Date: Fri 12-7
The Scene: My second session at an MGM Grand 1-2 game this day
The Happenings: This night I played great poker. I dominated everyone. I made them fold when I wanted and call when I wanted. I had total control over the table. I have no huge pots or notable hands to tell of, just soild domination and things went the way they should have been going all week.
The Results: +$514
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: The Venetian 1-2 game
The Happenings: Damn I love the smell of this place. Someone who's name will be kept secret suggested to me that the smell is stripper residue, I haven't been able to stop thinking of that term and chuckling to myslef ever since. Stripper residue, LOLOLOLOLOLMFAO! Not much happened in this game. I didn't really have any hands.
The Results: -$120
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: This table sucked. I wasn't having fun and the feel of the room wasn't doing it for me so I left.
The Results: -$82
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: Paris 1-2 game
The Happenings: Ok, the first thing I noticed after sitting at the table in this small room was the rake. Most of Vegas takes a 10% rake up to $4 max. Paris however takes 10% up to $5 max. Better than underground G-vegas but stiff by Vegas standards. On top of that, the dealer pulls $1 more for the bad beat jackpot which currently sits at $65,000. All you need to do is have quad 10's or better beat with both players playing their 2 hole cards in their hands and you win 30%. The guy who beats you wins 20%, and all the players playing at Paris and other Harrah's properties share the remaining 50%. The game sucked for awhile but I was determined to play as long as I could. I monkey shoved with a pair and flush draw on the turn straight into the nuts but other than that played solid. The tables consolidate twice while I was there and at 8:30 am I had about $310 of my $400 buy in. There was a crazy drunk who was definately from Cleveland Ohio, the dirty part, as he told us 67,000 times. He wanted us to know that he didn't care about the money and that he "works the block" in Cleveland. He was a nice guy, but a bit rowdy. His brother had left the game an hour earlier, he was just as rowdy. To Cleveland's left was a rotund russian guy. He wore a tiny little hat that looked like the bank robbers in cartoons. If I had to guess, I'd say he was a dock worker, or a fisherman. He had definately spent time in card rooms though, I could tell by the way he handled his chips. So, I'll try to make this brief. Cleveland was hammered and putting in $20 blind every hand. I was hunting him hard and after the russian called the $20 I called with 9c8c. The button put it all in for about $23 and Four of us saw the flop. It came 878 and all I could think about was that finally, after hours and hours, it was payday. Cleveland slung $50 into the pot and the russian called. Now, here's the tricky part of this hand. Everyone, the russian included, was hunting the drunk money that Cleveland was slinging around. I gave the russian a wide range here. I had him nailed down to around 1010 or JJ. However, I had been playing poker since 3:00pm in the afternoon and here it was 8:30 in the am, so my jugdgment was most likely off. I shoveled for $287 and Cleveland folded. The russian looked like he wanted to fold but he kept saying that his chances were good. I'll say they were good. Why would the guy slowroll me with 77? Well that's what he did. After much time, he put it in and showed me the dominating hand. Brick, brick and I walked to the desk and cahsed out 4 white $1 chips.
The Relsuts: -$396
I also played 2 Venetian tournies for$150 each and the blogger tourny for $135. I played a $65 tourny at TI and I played the Grinder tourny at Planet Hollywood. I feel like I've been unlucky, but maybe I just suck. This place, Las Vegas, is inspiring on the one hand, but lonely and depressing on the other, of course that may be because I'm broke. I'm going to get a job and try to put a roll together. I'll get there, it's just going to take longer than I would have hoped. In the mean time, anyone looking for a horse to stake?
Here in the shadows
There's no wishing well
May the blessed one fogive me
Like so many times before
There's no saviour at the door
It won't matter anymore
Touch me now while we reach the end
I wonder where you are right now
Right now
Oh my dear
See, I arrived here in Vegas with a minimal amount of money to my name, and it was all borrowed. I could have bought a bed and a TV, but instead I decided to take a few shots at the poker tables in hopes of putting off the job hunting, perhaps forever. So now I'm locked into sleeping on the floor and let me tell you, it's not as comfortable as I remember it from years ago, it is literally a pain in the ass. I know I mentioned going on a video poker rampage, but I didn't lose very much on that, and it's over. But the cards have been very unkind at the poker tables.
There was a $650 pot and a $550 pot that were to be mine except for brutal, online-esque suck outs after the money was all in. That $1200 alone would give me another week or so to play, but whatever. Those beats would always sting, but I really needed a few hands to hold in the beginning here, and that just hasn't happened. I'll run down the events of the last few days at the tables.
The Date: Wed 12-5
The Scene: Caesars Palace 1-3 game
The Happenings: I'll admit that in this session I really didn't play well. I made an overly aggro push on a guy when he had 2 pair. Cards didn't come my way in which case the goal should have been to protect my stack. Shit happens.
The Results: -$434
The Date: Wed 12-5
The Scene: Planet Hollywood 1-2 game
The Happenings: I shook off my horrific play at Caesars and sat with an almost perfect attitude. I played good poker and had run my initial $200 buy in to about $350. There was a crazy guy at the table. He was comical and he ordered two large pizzas from some place on Tropicana Ave. and allowed the whole table to share. The atmosphere was fun, that is until I looked down at QQ UTG+1 and raised to $12. FunnyPizzaGuy had expressed boardom with suggestions of having everyone put $20 in blind. He was on the button for this hand and repopped me to $30. I knew he was crazy but I also knew he had a hand. I called. The flop brought QT9 and I knew that leading was most certainly my best play. I fired $20 and he called. The turn brought an off suit 6 and I steered the train towards value town and led for $60 into the $100 pot. He looked at me and said he was all in, and he had me covered. KT was not a possibilty given my image and I immediately called. The river brought a K and he instantly tabled KK for the higher set. I'm sure I turned green as I felt like puking all over the river card while the $$650+ pot was pushed to him.
The Results: -$201
The Date: Thurs 12-6
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: Not much to tell. A big mouth made a comment about my tight play. He knew everything about everything and always thought he knew what everyone had. I got mouthy with him after I made a huge 3rd reraise from the button and he was telling me what I had. I tried to bet him but he shut up. Then when he raised from the middle I called from the button with 3s2s. 3 players saw the flop fall 933. BB bet and BigMouth raised to an unknown amount, even to him, about $70. I shoveled and he looked perplexed. He finally called, showed me 88, and lost his stack. Mmmm, that felt good.
The Resluts: +$142
The Date: Fri 12-7
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: I was sitting with even more crazy drunk British people. I forgot to mention that Vegas was packed with Brits for the big fight at MGM. I had AK in the SB and limped with about 4 others. The flop brought A24 and I led for $15. BB shoved for like $70 and his crazy $1400 stack having british friend called. I came over the top for $250 total and the crazy Brit mumbled something about having a straight draw as well and he called me with bloody rubish, A3. The 5 reared its ugly head right on the turn and once again, the $550+ pot was pushed to the wrong fucking guy.
The Results: -$167
The Date: Fri 12-7
The Scene: My second session at an MGM Grand 1-2 game this day
The Happenings: This night I played great poker. I dominated everyone. I made them fold when I wanted and call when I wanted. I had total control over the table. I have no huge pots or notable hands to tell of, just soild domination and things went the way they should have been going all week.
The Results: +$514
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: The Venetian 1-2 game
The Happenings: Damn I love the smell of this place. Someone who's name will be kept secret suggested to me that the smell is stripper residue, I haven't been able to stop thinking of that term and chuckling to myslef ever since. Stripper residue, LOLOLOLOLOLMFAO! Not much happened in this game. I didn't really have any hands.
The Results: -$120
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: MGM Grand 1-2 game
The Happenings: This table sucked. I wasn't having fun and the feel of the room wasn't doing it for me so I left.
The Results: -$82
The Date: Sat 12-8
The Scene: Paris 1-2 game
The Happenings: Ok, the first thing I noticed after sitting at the table in this small room was the rake. Most of Vegas takes a 10% rake up to $4 max. Paris however takes 10% up to $5 max. Better than underground G-vegas but stiff by Vegas standards. On top of that, the dealer pulls $1 more for the bad beat jackpot which currently sits at $65,000. All you need to do is have quad 10's or better beat with both players playing their 2 hole cards in their hands and you win 30%. The guy who beats you wins 20%, and all the players playing at Paris and other Harrah's properties share the remaining 50%. The game sucked for awhile but I was determined to play as long as I could. I monkey shoved with a pair and flush draw on the turn straight into the nuts but other than that played solid. The tables consolidate twice while I was there and at 8:30 am I had about $310 of my $400 buy in. There was a crazy drunk who was definately from Cleveland Ohio, the dirty part, as he told us 67,000 times. He wanted us to know that he didn't care about the money and that he "works the block" in Cleveland. He was a nice guy, but a bit rowdy. His brother had left the game an hour earlier, he was just as rowdy. To Cleveland's left was a rotund russian guy. He wore a tiny little hat that looked like the bank robbers in cartoons. If I had to guess, I'd say he was a dock worker, or a fisherman. He had definately spent time in card rooms though, I could tell by the way he handled his chips. So, I'll try to make this brief. Cleveland was hammered and putting in $20 blind every hand. I was hunting him hard and after the russian called the $20 I called with 9c8c. The button put it all in for about $23 and Four of us saw the flop. It came 878 and all I could think about was that finally, after hours and hours, it was payday. Cleveland slung $50 into the pot and the russian called. Now, here's the tricky part of this hand. Everyone, the russian included, was hunting the drunk money that Cleveland was slinging around. I gave the russian a wide range here. I had him nailed down to around 1010 or JJ. However, I had been playing poker since 3:00pm in the afternoon and here it was 8:30 in the am, so my jugdgment was most likely off. I shoveled for $287 and Cleveland folded. The russian looked like he wanted to fold but he kept saying that his chances were good. I'll say they were good. Why would the guy slowroll me with 77? Well that's what he did. After much time, he put it in and showed me the dominating hand. Brick, brick and I walked to the desk and cahsed out 4 white $1 chips.
The Relsuts: -$396
I also played 2 Venetian tournies for$150 each and the blogger tourny for $135. I played a $65 tourny at TI and I played the Grinder tourny at Planet Hollywood. I feel like I've been unlucky, but maybe I just suck. This place, Las Vegas, is inspiring on the one hand, but lonely and depressing on the other, of course that may be because I'm broke. I'm going to get a job and try to put a roll together. I'll get there, it's just going to take longer than I would have hoped. In the mean time, anyone looking for a horse to stake?
Here in the shadows
There's no wishing well
May the blessed one fogive me
Like so many times before
There's no saviour at the door
It won't matter anymore
Touch me now while we reach the end
I wonder where you are right now
Right now
Oh my dear
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Drive From Hell and My First Session at the Tables
Well, well, well, good morning my friends. It's 9:15pm here in Sin City and I'm at one of the 33 Starbucks that I can account for in Las Vegas and Henderson. I'm on Eastern just north of highway 215. This is the first time I've felt like turning on the ol laptop since I arrived. Let me tell you, the drive was pure Hell. This was partly my fault, and it was for nothing.
I left G-vegas 4 hours later than I had hoped. I pulled out of Rhodes' apartment at about 7:15 pm on thursday evening. I drove south on I-85 to Atlanta, then hit I-20 west to Birmingham, Alabama. About 10 hours later I pulled into a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Arkansas and tried to sleep in the car, sitting up in the driver's seat. This was not one of my best ideas, but I did sleep for about two hours. I decided to forge on and began the drive again. After about two hours, I realised that I was falling asleep at the wheel and decided to stop at a Best Western for a little shut eye.
I got the room at about 10:00 am EST, I'm not sure what the actual time was there, but I was too tired to sleep. No, seriously, I really was, do I look like Kenny Rogers to you? I was also paranoid about someone breaking into my car with my life's possesions in it, even though it was parked right outside my hotel window. I finally fell asleep and 4 1/2 hours later, my wake up call came through. The drive resumed.
Here's where the whole thing got a little nuts. At 6:00pm EST I headed west on I-40. I didn't stop to rest again until 5:00 am EST. I'm speaking in EST because that's what was on the clock in the car. So at 5:00, I stopped at a rest area in Texas and slept for 1 1/2 hours in the car. I woke up freaked out by the heavy winds rocking my car and proceeded west. I figured if I got tired I'd get another room. But when the sun came up, I felt fine.
As I proceeded, fueled by gas station fried chicken, flautas from a place called Taco Cabana in Oklahoma City, and sour skittles, I realised that I was cutting it close if I wanted to arrive at the new apartment before they closed at 5:00 on Saturday. So I decided that I would not be stopping to sleep again. God was it tough. I barely remmeber driving through New Mexico and Arizona. I do recall the sleet as I climbed the mountains in Flagstaff. There was freaking snow everywhere, I wasn't expecting it.
So, at about 4:15 I found myself driving across the Hoover Dam and it looked as if I was just going to make it. I hit the 215, exited onto Green Valley Parkway, turned onto Horizon Ridge Parkway, and at 4:35, I was there. That sounds great right? I'd just go in and sign the lease and after a 20-something hour stretch with 1.5 hours of sleep in between I'd be in my new home right? Aaaannhhh, wrong!
I won't bore you with the details, but Rhodes and I waited too long and let the banks close on thursday and didn't get a cashiers check for the first months rent and I didn't want to bring all the rent cash on the road, so Rhodes sent the check with UPS for overnight delivery on friday and to put it bluntly, UPS fucked us. Well, they fucked me more than us.
So, tired, pissed off, and on the verge of tears/killing spree, I got a room at the Southpoint hotel for saturday night, GG $120. As you could guess, if UPS didn't deliver the check on saturday, they sure as hell didn't on sunday, and so I stayed night number two at Bill's Gamblin' Hall, formerly known as Barbary Coast. Then, today I headed over to the apartment and signed the lease.
Oh, but wait, before you start feeling all happy-endingish, I won't have electricity until tomorrow. I have gas, but only the water heater is working due to electric switches in the heat, and the stove, and the gas fireplace. But you know what? My car is finally empty, and I took the best damned shower of my life just an hour ago. I am wearing clean boxers and socks for the first time since friday morning, and I feel fucking great. So fresh, so clean, and I can see out the back window of my car.
Attn: Now entering the poker segment of the blog !!!
So, out of pure frustration and lack of judgment abilities, I spent the first night and half of the second night in a blissful cloud of negative EV debauchery. My drug of choice was primarily video poker, IGT Deuces Wild, with a little sprinkling of craps on top, like a cherry. Mmmm, delicious. Those of you who have played Deuces Wild video poker will know what I mean when I say "four deuces". This is the second highest paying hand one can achieve in this game behind a natural (no wilds used) royal flush. I could play for days and not hit 4 dueces. But guess what bitches, I hit them 5 times in about 24 hours. Oh, you read that right, FIVE TIMES! I play the $0.25 machines at max coin (5 coins/credits) which is of course $1.25 a twirl. Four dueces pays 1000 credits, which for all you math wizards equals $250. Too bad I was on a rampage and the dueces just kept me afloat, I don't actually have any of that money to show, weeeeeeeeeelololol. Don't worry dear friends, I won't be sinking into the -EV pit. I'm here to play poker, and maybe a few other +EV ventures. I'll go into that another time.
So last night I played poker. I played 1-2 at the Venetian for about four hours. I LOVE THAT SMELL!!! What is that smell? The Venetian smells fucking great. So I sat with $200, 2/3 of the max, and I played kinda tight. I was sizing up the competion and planning a few plays when I was dealt KdQd. The older Asian guy in seat 10 seemed to be a pretty good player, he used his position to his advantage well. He had about $1000 in front of him and I was on his left in seat 1, perfect. In this hand, I limped UTG and OldAsianGuy raised it to $17 from the BB. I called as did a mid-position guy. The flop hit AKQ, two pair for me. OldAsianGuy led out for $20 and I popped it up to $60. Unexpectedly, MP called. Then it came back to OldAsianGuy and he put it all in. I had about $120 left and had a decision to make. It's always tough to fold after you just raised a guy from $20 to $60 and you have $120 left. But I thought about it. I know he doesn't have J10, no way. But more importantly, he's not scared of J10, not even a little bit. This screamed "SET" into my brain. You may think AK, but this guy was a good player. He knew I was playing it tight and he knew I had a hand. He would have been affraid of J10 and either called my raise or folded. I had to give the guy AA for a set of aces which would have me ass-pounded. I wanted to show the guy and I said fold to the 3rd guy in the hand. He said fold and I showed. OldAsianGuy, bless his heart, showed me QQ. Not the set I guessed, but a set nonetheless. We chatted a bit about the hand and he suggested that if he had AK I'd have been beaten as well, and I said "if you had AK, would you have re-raised me?" He said he would have folded AK to my $60, and I absolutely believe him. I'm proud of that read.
A bit later I got a little out of hand with AA when I knew the guy flopped trips. I called off $95 on the river, shame on me. But I made up for it when I obtained a read on seat 9. When he had shit, he put his chips into the pot a certain way. He bet into me on the river and I called, my AK high being good against his J high. He looked sick, pwnt.
So I suffered a downtick of a mere $33 and I got a little too tired to make good decisions. I left and spent a little more time with my old friend the -EV demon. Would you believe I lost $160 on a Wheel of Fortune penny machine? What a sicko. I get a little hypnotised sometimes.
Ok, for those of you who give a shit, that's what's been happening. I'm going to leave Starbucks in a few and head to a poker table, there is much work to be done. I will get back to blogging a little more regularly now that I've calmed down about the apartment. Wish me luck and I'll see ya in a bit.
Raise your swords up high
See the black birds fly
Let them hear your rage
Show no fear
Attack!
I left G-vegas 4 hours later than I had hoped. I pulled out of Rhodes' apartment at about 7:15 pm on thursday evening. I drove south on I-85 to Atlanta, then hit I-20 west to Birmingham, Alabama. About 10 hours later I pulled into a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Arkansas and tried to sleep in the car, sitting up in the driver's seat. This was not one of my best ideas, but I did sleep for about two hours. I decided to forge on and began the drive again. After about two hours, I realised that I was falling asleep at the wheel and decided to stop at a Best Western for a little shut eye.
I got the room at about 10:00 am EST, I'm not sure what the actual time was there, but I was too tired to sleep. No, seriously, I really was, do I look like Kenny Rogers to you? I was also paranoid about someone breaking into my car with my life's possesions in it, even though it was parked right outside my hotel window. I finally fell asleep and 4 1/2 hours later, my wake up call came through. The drive resumed.
Here's where the whole thing got a little nuts. At 6:00pm EST I headed west on I-40. I didn't stop to rest again until 5:00 am EST. I'm speaking in EST because that's what was on the clock in the car. So at 5:00, I stopped at a rest area in Texas and slept for 1 1/2 hours in the car. I woke up freaked out by the heavy winds rocking my car and proceeded west. I figured if I got tired I'd get another room. But when the sun came up, I felt fine.
As I proceeded, fueled by gas station fried chicken, flautas from a place called Taco Cabana in Oklahoma City, and sour skittles, I realised that I was cutting it close if I wanted to arrive at the new apartment before they closed at 5:00 on Saturday. So I decided that I would not be stopping to sleep again. God was it tough. I barely remmeber driving through New Mexico and Arizona. I do recall the sleet as I climbed the mountains in Flagstaff. There was freaking snow everywhere, I wasn't expecting it.
So, at about 4:15 I found myself driving across the Hoover Dam and it looked as if I was just going to make it. I hit the 215, exited onto Green Valley Parkway, turned onto Horizon Ridge Parkway, and at 4:35, I was there. That sounds great right? I'd just go in and sign the lease and after a 20-something hour stretch with 1.5 hours of sleep in between I'd be in my new home right? Aaaannhhh, wrong!
I won't bore you with the details, but Rhodes and I waited too long and let the banks close on thursday and didn't get a cashiers check for the first months rent and I didn't want to bring all the rent cash on the road, so Rhodes sent the check with UPS for overnight delivery on friday and to put it bluntly, UPS fucked us. Well, they fucked me more than us.
So, tired, pissed off, and on the verge of tears/killing spree, I got a room at the Southpoint hotel for saturday night, GG $120. As you could guess, if UPS didn't deliver the check on saturday, they sure as hell didn't on sunday, and so I stayed night number two at Bill's Gamblin' Hall, formerly known as Barbary Coast. Then, today I headed over to the apartment and signed the lease.
Oh, but wait, before you start feeling all happy-endingish, I won't have electricity until tomorrow. I have gas, but only the water heater is working due to electric switches in the heat, and the stove, and the gas fireplace. But you know what? My car is finally empty, and I took the best damned shower of my life just an hour ago. I am wearing clean boxers and socks for the first time since friday morning, and I feel fucking great. So fresh, so clean, and I can see out the back window of my car.
Attn: Now entering the poker segment of the blog !!!
So, out of pure frustration and lack of judgment abilities, I spent the first night and half of the second night in a blissful cloud of negative EV debauchery. My drug of choice was primarily video poker, IGT Deuces Wild, with a little sprinkling of craps on top, like a cherry. Mmmm, delicious. Those of you who have played Deuces Wild video poker will know what I mean when I say "four deuces". This is the second highest paying hand one can achieve in this game behind a natural (no wilds used) royal flush. I could play for days and not hit 4 dueces. But guess what bitches, I hit them 5 times in about 24 hours. Oh, you read that right, FIVE TIMES! I play the $0.25 machines at max coin (5 coins/credits) which is of course $1.25 a twirl. Four dueces pays 1000 credits, which for all you math wizards equals $250. Too bad I was on a rampage and the dueces just kept me afloat, I don't actually have any of that money to show, weeeeeeeeeelololol. Don't worry dear friends, I won't be sinking into the -EV pit. I'm here to play poker, and maybe a few other +EV ventures. I'll go into that another time.
So last night I played poker. I played 1-2 at the Venetian for about four hours. I LOVE THAT SMELL!!! What is that smell? The Venetian smells fucking great. So I sat with $200, 2/3 of the max, and I played kinda tight. I was sizing up the competion and planning a few plays when I was dealt KdQd. The older Asian guy in seat 10 seemed to be a pretty good player, he used his position to his advantage well. He had about $1000 in front of him and I was on his left in seat 1, perfect. In this hand, I limped UTG and OldAsianGuy raised it to $17 from the BB. I called as did a mid-position guy. The flop hit AKQ, two pair for me. OldAsianGuy led out for $20 and I popped it up to $60. Unexpectedly, MP called. Then it came back to OldAsianGuy and he put it all in. I had about $120 left and had a decision to make. It's always tough to fold after you just raised a guy from $20 to $60 and you have $120 left. But I thought about it. I know he doesn't have J10, no way. But more importantly, he's not scared of J10, not even a little bit. This screamed "SET" into my brain. You may think AK, but this guy was a good player. He knew I was playing it tight and he knew I had a hand. He would have been affraid of J10 and either called my raise or folded. I had to give the guy AA for a set of aces which would have me ass-pounded. I wanted to show the guy and I said fold to the 3rd guy in the hand. He said fold and I showed. OldAsianGuy, bless his heart, showed me QQ. Not the set I guessed, but a set nonetheless. We chatted a bit about the hand and he suggested that if he had AK I'd have been beaten as well, and I said "if you had AK, would you have re-raised me?" He said he would have folded AK to my $60, and I absolutely believe him. I'm proud of that read.
A bit later I got a little out of hand with AA when I knew the guy flopped trips. I called off $95 on the river, shame on me. But I made up for it when I obtained a read on seat 9. When he had shit, he put his chips into the pot a certain way. He bet into me on the river and I called, my AK high being good against his J high. He looked sick, pwnt.
So I suffered a downtick of a mere $33 and I got a little too tired to make good decisions. I left and spent a little more time with my old friend the -EV demon. Would you believe I lost $160 on a Wheel of Fortune penny machine? What a sicko. I get a little hypnotised sometimes.
Ok, for those of you who give a shit, that's what's been happening. I'm going to leave Starbucks in a few and head to a poker table, there is much work to be done. I will get back to blogging a little more regularly now that I've calmed down about the apartment. Wish me luck and I'll see ya in a bit.
Raise your swords up high
See the black birds fly
Let them hear your rage
Show no fear
Attack!
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