Fucking Home Game

Got brutalized tonight by a suckout knocking me out of the home game in sixth place (out of eight). I had KQo, was holding about 600 in chips, and saw my preflop raise re-raised all-in by a slightly bigger stack.

I knew he didn't have the overcards, so I called.

66 vs. KQo.

I paired the K on the flop, and the Q on the turn.

He caught his set on the river.

I'm still steaming.

Another multi, another disappointment...

Played the $10/$1 multi on Party this morning along with 508 of my closest friends.

For the last 90 minutes, I was involved in exactly ZERO pots outside of the BB (except for the last one). My best starting hand was K8s (except for the last one).

In other words, I basically got blinded to death.

With the blinds at 100/200, and 800 in my stack, I pushed all-in with AKo against the BB, who called with 99. I was done in 117th place, with the top 60 paying.

I feel like I played solid enough poker. I'm just getting really tired of not catching any cards at all whatsoever.

Case in point, aside from AA and 44, in 90 minutes I caught no pocket pairs, AKo twice, and KQo once. Outside of that, no face/face in the hole, and no suited connectors worth seeing.

Distressing. I'm surprised I lasted to 117th.

What's worse than catching NO cards in a multi?

Link above goes to an article where I learned that kids are calling marijuana joints "tampons" nowadays. I don't even like hearing the word "tampon." Why didn't Nancy Reagan think of this strategy instead of "just say no?"

I played a $9/$1 qualifier on Party last night for entry into a $200/$15 tournament.

One hour, one top pair (KK in the hole, one caller of my 2xBB preflop who folded to a 1xBB bet on the flop).

But that's not the worst part.

QJs / AKs (2x) / AKo / 88 / 66 (2x) / 22 / 44 / 99 / KTs / QTs / KTo / QJo / KJo / T9s / K9s

By my count, that's just about 18 playable (in some cases, limpable) hands over the course of an hour. Not one single time did I catch a flop. Twice I tried to make a move with a strange board (with AKo and a board of 664, tried to bet from LP after raising 3xBB preflop - got raised significantly) with a solid starting hand, but both times got nailed.

Not one single flop. Not one. Not "four parts to a" anything, not a middle pair, nothing. I had good enough cards (like slick) to preflop raise a few times, and had good enough cards (99, for instance) to call reasonable raises preflop.

I got frustrated and busted out on K9s by pushing all-in preflop (with 350 left), and got called by AKo. He caught two pair. I was left fuming.

Like a latter day Gosselaar

I legitimately have a little bit of a headache today, but pulled a Lucci-esque drama queen rendition over the phone to my boss at about 11AM today, and am taking a half sick day to recouperate this afternoon.

I've got the TV on, am halfway through the latest Sports Guy column (linked above) on ESPN's Page 2, and just was thinking about some things.

Just caught the last five minutes of a Season One (I think) episode of "Dawson's Creek." If I could pluck Joey Potter out of that year (circa age 17 or 18 for her), I'd do it in a second. If there is anything on top of the list of things I have in common with Pauly, it's a love of all things Katie Holmes.

Plus, you've got the big haired early days of the Van der Beek, who strikes me as little more than a verbose and morose Mark-Paul Gosselaar (just saw, accidentally, ten seconds of SBTB:The College Years, which raises a question about the true "prime" of Tiffani-Amber Thiessen - SBTB:TCY or 90210?).

I'm now watching "Rockford Files." I love Rockford. Completely non-plussed at every turn. Rockford rules. I'm going to learn that theme song on the harmonica one of these days.

Yeah, that'll get me a girl.

George Wyner is guest starring. He's a "that guy," who played "Arnold T. Pants," the smarmy lawyer of Fletch's ex-wife in "Fletch."

I've been itching to watch "The Godfather" all week, and every night I've talked myself out of it. Yes, it's an amazing movie, but it's also a hell of a time commitment for a kid who's going to bed around 10 on the nightly.

Yes, I do suck that badly.

Anyway, in regards to the time commitment, I've been re-reading the book, and am right now to the part where Solozzo has just shot the Don, and Sonny is about to get the Sicilian message in regards to Luca Brasi. I'm wondering if I were to start the movie and pick the book up at the same time, would I beat the movie to the end? Unlikely, due to the Vegas subplot and all that loose vagina bullshit that Puzo wisely left out of the movie. Yes, I get it. Lucy's loosey.

Speaking of Lucy, with nothing at all to do with loose vaginas, I want to give a real nice compliment to "Lucy's Market," a new small grocer downtown here in Grand Haven (won't they be delighted if they Google themselves and see "vagina" in the same sentence). I live right up the street, and the owners have made an effort to be extremely gracious, helpful, and thankful for your business, and have even learned my name - a nice touch. If you know anything about me, you know that I hate the mass corporate influx that is corrupting small town America (thanks Applebee's and Wal-Mart!). I'm willing to root for any and all small businesses in this area, and do my best to support them when I can.

Anyway, now that I'm home and safely on the couch, maybe I'll be rambling a little more a little later. For now? Nap time. Ahhhhh...

Across the Universe

Not a lot of new content out yesterday from all of my favorites (see sidebar at right,) but definitely some gems nonetheless.

Al Can’t Hang posed the challenge directly to me yesterday, “Blondes or Brunettes,” to which I replied “Brunettes” in his comments widget. To which he replied, “ok, introduction, here we come.”

I’m not sure exactly what Al meant. Maybe he was asking me to be the final arbiter on his decision over which girl he was going to be introducing to one of his pals. But, even though logistically it’s a significant improbability, I’m hoping Al meant that he’s going to be introducing me to a brunette, he just wanted to make sure he picked the right girl with which to hook me up. I absolutely trust Al’s taste in women, as he managed to land himself a pretty good looking dame who also happens to play more effective poker than he does. And Al is certainly no Greg Evigan or Tom Wopat, so he’s doing pretty damn good for himself.

So Al? Hook a brother up, would you? I don’t care that we’d be four states and 900 miles apart if she doesn’t mind spending her own money to come out here to visit me.

Pauly (linking to his Tao Pauly site) emailed me regarding his recent lamentations over misreading a bluffing opportunity at the cinema, and getting dragged into “Mean Girls” instead of the Denzel Washington revenge vehicle.

I’m here to admit that I like a good teen comedy as much, if not more so than most my age. I just make sure I’m catching them on the USA Network, rather than getting cross-eyed looks from the HS Seniors at the theatre.

Plus, I’m not sure that I could walk into a theatre alone (one of my simple pleasures is going to the movies by myself) and ask the ticket clerk, “One for Mean Girls,” or “Is 13 going on 30 sold out?”

By the way, I also posted a top seven jailbait list over in his comments widget on his Lindsay Lohan post. Just for the record, I prefer Hilary Duff to Lindsay Lohan, regardless of Lindsay’s recent, cough, developments. Rachel Bilson is atop the list, and Michelle Trachtenberg is a surprise #2. If you saw “Euro Trip,” (and I’m guessing you didn’t, I didn’t see you when I went) you’d know what I mean.

Pauly was also nice enough to ask for a copy of my recent theatre effort on VHS for his own personal viewing. The show was good, and I guess I take pride in the effort, but it’s still just small town community theatre. Plus, I’m a hack. I admit it. If I can dig up a copy of a tape, I’ll ship it out. I’m not going to be anonymous here forever anyway, as I fully anticipate meeting at least Pauly, Al, and The Blogfather live and in person in the reasonably near future. My brother and I are talking about maybe hitting Louisville for the Belmont Stakes next weekend, which puts us in shouting distance to Iggy in Cincy (day at the races my good man?). Plus, I’m still torn on vacation ideas for this summer. While it’s still most likely Vegas in September, it could just as easily be Foxwoods or the Borgata in June with a possible Ferrari home game mixed in if they’re playing.

HDub’s latest effort brings news that there’s going to be an article in a new (?) poker magazine about our little poker blogging community, and better yet, he’s writing it. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing this, and really do look forward to seeing Iggy, Pauly, Hank, and the Penguin get the credit they deserve for bringing solid poker content to the masses on a (near) daily basis.

One guy who has had a rough couple of weeks is Mean Gene. His latest two posts deal with NYC at 5AM with nothing to do but wait for the ESPNZone to open (thanks to the incompetence of the NFL and MSG), as well as a vicious spider bite (he thinks) that laid him up in the hospital for a few. Gene, if I could buy you a beer I would. You sound like you could use it. By the way, maybe it’s not a spider bite… you didn’t sit on any toilet seats or drink directly out of any pop cans in NYC, did you?

I bought a Coke from a street vendor in NYC a few years back, and saw many and varied looks ranging from sheer horror to abject mortification when I popped the top and drank directly from the can. Hey, a little rat feces never hurt anyone. Plus, I don’t eat hot dogs, so I’m certainly well under my rat feces quota I’m sure.

Here’s a curiosity question for some of my fellow poker bloggers… I get a nice chunk of traffic coming over from a few sites, specifically Grubby’s, Iggy’s, and Pauly’s, so I’m curious to see what kinds of traffic they’re generating there in the first place.

In the interest of disclosure, I’ll tell you that my average here on the daily is about 75-90 unique visitors (weekdays), with about 50 making up my usual everyday readership (returning visitors).

If you’d like to share, I’d be interested in knowing what kinds of traffic the rest of you guys see on the daily. Just a curiosity, that’s all…

Maybe I’m Amazed

One simple fact can illustrate beyond a shadow of a doubt how ridiculously talented Lennon and McCartney were as songwriters, and that’s the cover versions of their songs, specifically when they are handled in a different form or fashion than the original.

Case in point, McCartney’s “Maybe I’m Amazed” was featured last night on “The O.C.” during the wedding sequence, with a female vocalist handling a slowed down version of the song.

It reminded me quite a bit of “Across the Universe” by Fiona Apple off of the “Pleasantville” soundtrack.

Forgetting for a moment that the singer or band chose the unfortunately retro 80s name of “Jem,” I have to admit that “Maybe I’m Amazed” carried as much weight and power from a slow and lovely rendition as it did from McCartney’s high energy screaming original.

I’m really dissatisfied in regards to the ending of this season’s “OC.” The Ryan/Teresa/Marissa storyline seems to have painted the writers into a corner. There’ll be no abortion, a miscarriage would seem far too callous, and therefore Teresa will have the kid. But that means you just can’t have Ryan moving out on her, as even if he finds out the kid’s not his, as walking away from her makes him look terrible.

And Marissa’s drinking again. Surprise, surprise.

By the way, I’m going to lay even money odds on Seth coming back from Tahiti, or wherever he’s going, with some island princess on his boat. Summer needs a challenge.

You know what the most fun part of the first three or four new “OC” episodes this fall is going to be though? I predict a Shatner-esque “KHANNNN!” scream to the heavens when Julie Cooper-Nichols finds out Caleb is going bankrupt. That’s good stuff right there.

Anyway, I can be a moody little son-of-a-bitch sometimes, and last night was one of those sometimes. It was a little bit of a morose kind of blues, one that found me nearly choking back tears (but not quite, I promise) at every juncture of “goodbye” on TV last night. And between the episode of “Friends,” and the “OC” I caught, there were plenty of goodbyes.

One small thing on “Friends…” The directors and writers are hitting great emotional notes at the very end of each episode in these last few. They are creating major plot points (case in point, the Ross/Rachel kiss), and leaving it there for next week. This is really doing a good job of establishing a sense of finality.

I really shouldn’t be getting into these funks as much, as I’m easily now as happy as I’ve been in at least three years. I’ve got a kickass apartment, my dog is a happy little dude, I generally like my job, and I have a little cash cushion in the bank.

Yes, I could use a woman, but that’ll happen eventually.

Regardless, all I wanted to do last night was crawl into bed and wake up without the funk. Thankfully, that happened.

That being said, I’m sure it’s going to get a little dusty in the apartment during that last “Friends” episode tonight. Should be a good one.

Lesionnaire

I mentioned the psoriasis thing here, right? Well, I read an article that referenced the skin affectations I had prior to the treatment as lesions. That’s comforting. Not that I had a better term for them, as “scaly” wasn’t quite enough, and “scabby” was overkill.

So, unless I lotion myself up and down twice a day, presumably for the rest of my life, I’ll have localized lesions. Just like a leper.

Apparently, they have an injection that is a weekly thing that prevents the psoriasis from creeping back up. That being said, I don’t know what’s worse – the dreaded needle or having to use this prescription lotion stuff indefinitely.

Adding insult to injury last night (with the hit my bankroll took in only an hour), I landed on a table with a guy who was trying to be funny, but was just acting like an idiot, by calling other players at the table racial/ethnic/homophobic names. I wasn’t spared the whip, as my screenname “Boygza” was twisted by this moron into “Boygay.” Nice. No one was biting on his barbs, even when he assailed the Jews, so I give a lot of credit to the eight other players at the table, and gladly (smirk) gave them most of my buy-in as a reward.

I tried to use the live help feature at PartyPoker to report this idiot, but wouldn’t you know it, it was down. Go figure. Too much trouble to email, so I let him continue on his merry little way.

Here’s something I can’t quite wrap my arms around, and is causing a great deal of frustration for me. On my normal paychecks, I see about 73% of my check as a net figure, after taxes and insurance are subtracted. On my bonus paycheck I just received? No insurance taken out, but a high hard one from the government robs me of 37% of my money. 63% net. I was counting on $650, I landed $500.

I guess it’s my company making a worst-case scenario estimate that somehow my gargantuan bonus, which is paid in the hundreds of dollars, will somehow accumulate to such an extent that I will be catapulted into the stratosphere of the next tax bracket.

Harumph. Not likely my friends.

I did a rough sketch of my taxes for next year, and assuming everything stays status quo with the IRS’ tax tables from 2003, and assuming my bonuses stay consistent, I should be seeing a refund of over $2k.

Don’t spend all my money in one place GWB. I have plans for that too, you know.

I’m possibly/probably hosting a small home game this weekend, as Bob is coming back into town. As a result, I’m thinking hard about either building or acquiring a poker table for this weekend.

I’m not handy. That’s a given. But, really, how hard could this be? I’d buy a big slab of particle board, slap some legs (prefab folding table legs) on it, staple some felt to it, and upholster some planks to affix to the edge as a rail. Sounds easy to me.

Yes, by the way, I know that you need special pool table felt for quality’s sake.

The other option is, of course, to rent again. But that’s such a pain in the ass. I have no viable option for returning the table and chairs, as I work 20 minutes south of the local rental joint, and work right up until their closing time. Plus, my car isn’t big enough to effectively manage a six foot rectangular table to and from my hometown to my work location. I could ask my dad to do my busywork again, but that’s not quite fair.

So, I want to get a table. Badly. Or make one. Either way.

I just read online (in the quick n’ dirty Google News blurb) that Michael Moore’s new documentary which, surprise!, is critical of President Bush (it’s called Farenheit Nine-Eleven) is being blocked from release by the Disney folks.

Look, even if it’s an absolutely terrible movie, doesn’t it behoove the Mouse to slap one of their subsidiaries’ labels on it and just send it out without any financial backing? Aren’t they generally avoiding a political firestorm by putting it out there?

Regardless of what you think about Michael Moore’s political views, remember two things. Number one, the Mouse obviously paid to produce this movie (otherwise there’d be no discussion over their refusal to distribute), and number two, when you pay Michael Moore to make a movie, you have to know getting into it you’re getting a piece of liberal propaganda.

Doing anything less than releasing it smacks of a political agenda. Hell, if you’re the Mouse, and you want all this to go away quickly, release it as direct to video, issue a statement that calls the movie out for what it is (liberal propaganda), and make it less accessible in the marketplace than hardcore porn. Frankly, I’d think that if you were worried about upsetting your stockholders, you wouldn’t have agreed to fund Moore’s filmmaking in the first place.

And now you have a media savvy, propaganda infused attack dog with a rabid following screaming political censorship. Nice move guys.

That being said, if you can take Moore’s agenda with a couple hundred grains of salt, he does create some pretty entertaining confrontations with his humorous ambush style. Plus, his heart is in the right place, but he falls victim to his own visions of the conservative side of the aisle, and does a pretty ham-handed job of prodding the viewer into his own private myopia. I don’t necessarily disagree with much of his agenda at the core, but he certainly doesn’t shy away from letting everyone know how stupid he thinks conservative views are.

You heard it here probably fifth or sixth…

I just read online that one of the two Wachowski brothers of “Matrix” fame is going to get a sex change operation. Apparently, dude has been living as a woman for some time. That would explain their hermit-like status in Hollywood. If I met a Wachowski brother on the street, I wouldn’t know him from a Cohen brother.

As a matter of fact, I don’t know who they are either. I mean, I know who they are, I just wouldn’t know them unless introduced. Hell, you know what I mean.

Just a thought… the more I see that chick from the Black Eyed Peas on TV, the better looking she gets. The best adjective I can use to describe her beauty (and Jessica Simpson’s – at least facially) is severe. I don’t know…

NBC is shoving four hours of “Friends” down our throats the next two nights. If it wasn’t for an “OC” season finale, I’d probably catch all four.

I’m starting to get my touch back a little bit with identifying jazz artists by sound alone. I heard three seconds of a Cannonball Adderley joint I hadn’t heard before yesterday, and knew exactly who it was.

Billy Bob Thornton is going to be the new Buttermaker in the remake of “The Bad News Bears.” While I don’t like the fact that they keep remaking classics that still kick ass on their own terms, you can’t not like Billy Bob in that role.

They’ve been doing “Kids’ Week” on “Jeopardy” this week. Those kids are awfully stupid to not get some of those questions right. I’d kick all their asses.

Speaking of ass kicking (now in its third straight paragraph!), I had a dream last night that someone was wanting to beat up one of my brothers (I don’t remember which one), but had to go through me first. When he wasn’t looking, I clubbed him repeatedly on the head with one of those terra cotta flower pots. Then I left him for dead outside my front door just as a cop was walking by.

Yes, I checked his pulse. Sheesh, I didn’t kill him or anything. I’m not a savage.

I actually only very rarely remember my dreams.

Someone at work sent around one of those sappy sweet emails today entitled, “Why Being a Parent is Worth It.” Here’s a quick taste…

The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140.00 for a middle income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition. But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into $8,896 a year, $741.38 a month, or $171.08 a week. That's a mere $24.24 a day! Just over a dollar an hour. Still, you might think the best financial advice says don't have children if you want to be "rich." It is just the opposite. What do your get for your $160,140? Naming rights,--- First, middle, and last! Glimpses of God everyday. Giggles under the covers every night. More love than your heart can hold. Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs…

There must have been about a hundred reasons.

What $8,896 a year can buy me…

One $600/night call girl per month, including tip.
One long Vegas weekend per month at a mid-level hotel.
Two weeks a year in the Caribbean at a plush, all-inclusive.
Car payments on a Mercedes.
Half a house payment for a house twice the price that I could generally afford.
Every bill (outside of rent), tank of gas, and bag of groceries every month.
Season tickets for NFL, NBA, and NHL in your hometown.

You get the picture. Kids are fun, don’t get me wrong, but you can keep your freaking butterfly kisses, and I’ll keep my $8,896 I’m not spending on them.

By the way, did you see that the Olsen Twins are “defending themselves” against the press for dressing in scant clothing in their movie? Why don’t they just tell the truth and say, “We’re aiming for the horny high school guys with that one.” They don’t have to explain a damn thing to me.

If a genie were to grant me any woman on the planet I wanted, who would absolutely love me forever and marry me and bear my children, I’d have to take an Olsen Twin. Wouldn’t you? I mean, they’re absolutely filthy rotten loaded, hot, and seemingly nice people. Oh, and being 18, which means they should be hot for another 18-25 years doesn’t hurt either. The only drawback is that they’re absolute midgets. Something like 5’2”.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Al put it to me today, calling me out specifically on the age old question:

Blondes or brunettes?

Alright, although I don't think it can get any better than Anna Nicole Smith (in print, not in person) in her prime, it's brunettes all the way.

I used to date – well, maybe date isn't exactly the right way to put it... how about fornicate often with - a girl that looks quite a bit like this one, except a touch thicker.

Just a touch thicker, just how I like them.

Oh my god what this girl would do to me, for me, whatever. If she wasn't so young and attached so quick, I would have had more than just a few months of fun.

I was married for awhile, I slept with a stripper, and have had a few pretty decent one night stands.

But this girl is the only one I think about. The only individual sex acts that I can still recall as vividly as the glow of the moments after. As Richard Wright would put it, she was ”woman as body of woman.” No chance it would have worked as a relationship, but jesus was banging that girl all the reward I ever needed for my years in Utah's valley of chastity.

I'm sure it's largely because of one girl and one girl alone, but I love Hispanic women. More than any other women as a whole.

So Al? Brunettes.

One Hour On $1/$2

AKo
88
77
44

Other than those four hands, over the course of one hour at the tables, I caught absolutely ZERO hands with suited or unsuited face cards (KJ or QJ or KQ or AQ for instance). I had very little in the way of playable hands.

And what really pissed me off was that when I had something like A2s, I'd land two of my suit on the flop, and miss landing the fifth flush card. That happened three times (A2/A2/A5, all suited from LP).

I lost $50 due to blinds and pushing my decent hands.

On the last hand, I had that 88, and the flop came 777.

Turn was a 9, River a T, but with only having to check/call one bet each round, you've gotta see that through to the river, right? Of course, the guy with the 9T in the hole took that one down. Unsuited. After seeing two raises preflop from early position.

I feel freaking violated.

I play my cards shark style, Kings and Aces / Welcome to my blog, the illest of all places…

Thanks, Ish (Digable Planets), for that line. I’m still not sure how a group like Camp Lo (their song, “Swing,” is where the quote’s from) can have three (“Swing,” “Sparkle,” “Luchini”) absolutely classic songs, and another album and a half full of absolute garbage. Go figure.

Anyway, my brief but nearly triumphant return to the tables at PartyPoker was yesterday, as the run of our play finished up Saturday night, and I finally get some weekend nights back. Thank god.

I played exactly one SNG, a $5 table just to get my sea legs back. I treated rail bird Pauly to more folding than laundry day at the State Penitentiary. I was getting nothing. As a matter of fact, the first hand I came in on was the second to the last hand in the first orbit, which had me (high carded the button) in the BB. I drew JTs, and thankfully the wild preflop raising that had marred the integrity of the first orbit didn’t happen here. I flopped four to the nut straight, and landed it on the turn. I managed to move my 800 initial stake to 1250 with that one hand alone, and then went back to my lonely folding ways.

Prior to getting down to three-handed at the table, I believe I played exactly three hands into the flop outside of the BB. One suited connector (89, I think, on the cheap), JJ, and AKo. I won with the latter two, but still couldn’t seem to muscle my stack up beyond the 1300 threshold.

Well, at least I wasn’t losing, I just wasn’t getting any action.

As the fourth place finisher blinded out, Pauly advised, “Time to make some moves.” On the very next hand, in the BB, I was dealt 46o. The SB, who had raised me off my blind a couple of times and had only seen me folding religiously to this point, made a pretty nominal raise. I thought he was stealing. I pushed all-in (1000). With his stack (2200 or so), I figured he better have a great hand to make this call. But call he did. I turned over my 46, he turned over Q5o.

You know, it’s one thing for me to try to maneuver to protect my blinds when I’m convinced he’s sitting on junk, but to call an all-in from a rock with a hand like that? Well, he paid for his insolence when I landed a 6 on the flop. He did turn a 5, but my pair was one louder (thanks Nigel), and I was in decent position.

A few hands later I saw KJs in the pocket at the BB, and re-raised the chip leader (4000 or so) off his 1xBB raise all-in. I figured that since the SB had folded, and he had made a wimpy raise, that I was at least racing here, maybe he had a medium Ace, or a smaller (maximum eights) pair in the hole.

Nope, KK. Go figure. I was bounced.

I should run the stats on that one, as I bet I played a grand total of less than ten hands over the course of the tournament.

My brother called me yesterday steaming from the results of the home game that I had the good fortune to have skipped yesterday. Turns out that we not only had a visit from the player we called “The River Rat,” but also another uneducated beneficiary of beginner’s luck. Two maniacs at a table of eight in a NL tournament. “They were hitting everything on the river,” he lamented.

Now, while I haven’t played with the second maniac, I did play once against “The River Rat,” a forty something year old career waitress who was turning ATC into the most ragged collection of flushes, straights, and two pairs you’ve ever seen. Luckily, I had her to my left, and was able to punish the ever living crap out of her with aggressive shorthanded play. It was actually kinda fun watching the better players lose showdown after showdown against her, and knowing that if I could get down to the final two or three against her huge stack (it was massive), I’d get the lion’s share of those chips eventually.

That’s exactly what did happen (months ago). Unlike her, I know damn well that bottom pair is not a real hand.

Regardless, my brother was absolutely ticked off about busting out of the game against the other maniac.

My brother was holding JTs, and saw an unraised flop with three others, including an UTG maniac.

Flop comes K8x (to the best of my recollection of his story) with two of his suit. He’s now sitting four to the flush. Maniac bets out UTG.

Now, here’s the chip situation: my brother had about 800 coming into the hand, blinds were 50/100, and due to raise (double) shortly. He’s got 100 in the pot, is sitting on a flush draw (with an A and a Q still danger cards for him in someone else’s hand), and has just been bet into for 100 by the chip leader, the maniac. He’s next to act, with two players behind him yet to bet.

Here are your options at this point, as I see them:

A) Call – This leaves you only 600 if you need to check/fold after the turn, and blinds are raising to 100/200 in less than ten minutes.
B) Raise – If you’re going to do it, it’s probably going to have to be all-in. There’s 500 in the pot, but you’ve got to know the maniac chip leader is going to call you. And don’t you have to know that he’s already made a hand (because he bet out and isn’t a nuanced player) while you’re only on a draw?
C) Fold – Get out, save your chips in the hopes you can land a real hand in the next two orbits before you’re blinded out.

My contention is that you should probably fold that hand. If an unschooled maniac is showing strength, I don’t ever want to be in a pot that I don’t feel that I control. If you’re on that flush draw, you’re sitting on a (if I’m doing the math right) 40% chance that you’ll hit your third suited on either of the next two cards. I don’t think you’re getting 5-2 or more on your money, unless you think you’ll get one of the other two in the hand to call your all-in raise here. Most likely, they’d get out of your way (other maniac had folded), and let you and the maniac duke it out.

I’d rather be sitting on 400 after the next orbit, checking my way into the flop from the big blind, and hopefully hitting something well-disguised with my ragged hole cards than pushing all my chips into the middle at this point, knowing full well the maniac isn’t getting out, and being fairly certain he’s hit something off the flop.

Your read here is easy. You’re behind. Your odds aren’t right. Wait for the right flop, this isn’t it.

My brother did push all-in, and sure enough the maniac called the BB into the flop with 58o, and hit his pair on the flop. The other two got out, the maniac called, and was in the lead with middle pair. No further flush help for my brother, and he was bounced.

Looking for expert opinion here… How would the rest of you have played that one?

Other than that, this weekend was, well…

Alright, I lost $66 on one race this weekend. At least it was the Derby.

I did get one thing right, and that was that Lion Heart was going to be a factor. If I had that much confidence (I did) that he’d hit the board, and if I had that much confidence (I did) that odds would be long on most of the horses on the board, why didn’t I just bet $20 ATB on Lion Heart? Instead of $66 poorer, I’d be $80 richer.

Will I learn from this experience? Not if $1 Trifectas keep paying off in the $500+ neighborhood.

Friday night was interesting. I had one of those moments where I saw a girl from across the room and instantly knew I had to get to know her. She’s actually a well-educated drama teacher from a high school a little north of here. Once divorced, and has the damn sexiest lips I think I’ve ever seen on a woman. She’s friends with one of my cast mates from the play, and I made it about as clear as possible to her that she needs to make sure we end up in the same place at the same time again sometime in the near future.

I haven’t been floored by a woman at first sight like this in awhile. We’ll see what, if anything, happens from here.

Saturday, K called with the intentions of bringing me along to her brother’s graduation (from college) party. We had talked about it last week, but due to Monday’s ridiculousness, I begged off the agenda. Actually, I just told her I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, acted pissed off on the phone, and didn’t spend more than five minutes dealing with her.

I did laundry and lost money online at the races instead.

Saturday night wrapped up our last week of performances, and not a day too soon. Look, I have fun with these things, but being in the play is probably as much for the camaraderie and going out for pizza after for me as it is the being on stage part. I managed to turn in a pretty consistent set of performances (personally) over the run of six shows. Except for the part the Saturday night before last where I blanked out in the middle of one of my lines for a couple of beats. That was a little freaky.

I did get a nice compliment from someone who saw the show a couple of times. He said that my accent was really believable. That made me happy, as I generally don’t feel that I do a very good job with accents and voices.

The cast party was Saturday night, and a round of gag gifts resulted in my having to tell my “most embarrassing moment” story (which I had told to a few in the cast at some point) to the assembled group.

And, oddly, as I was looking to link back to that story, I realize I haven’t told it before on here.

Don’t worry, I’ll post it today…

Yesterday’s highlight was finally being able to get a haircut! I can wear hats again! The chick (the really hot chick) who was cutting my hair did a nice job too. Halfway through, she set herself up and I actually took a semi-insulting jab at her before I realized she was hovering around my head with scissors. Luckily, no harm, no foul. It had been nearly four months (!) since my last cut, so getting that mop off my head is flat out refreshing.

With my boss still on vacation, and no rehearsal on the books in the future here, I’m looking forward to going home and relaxing with my dog. Ahhhhh….