It has been a very long week.First of all, I want to thank everyone who took the time to look in on me and make sure I was alive and well while I've been missing in action these past several days. It's good to know that if I fall down and crack my head open on the shiatter and die on the bathroom floor, I won't end up as a rotten bloated corpse that nobody finds for several weeks.
That's a nice feeling.
But the truth is, in addition to being uber-busy all week, I just didn't have the energy nor the motivation to sit at the keyboard and crank out the drivel. I needed a little vacation from writing, and it seems that I got it. But that was the only vacation I got--I've been working my ass off all week long.
In fact, as I sit down and start to write this at 4:40 pm on Sunday afternoon, I realize that I just got home from work a little over an hour ago, and I'd been there since 4:30 this morning. Yes, I was doing a little overtime, and once I finally got home, I cranked the A/C up, turned on all the ceiling fans, took a cool shower, and changed into my oldest and most comfy boxers and t-shirt. I then moved the computer from the desk to the bed, and I'm lying here writing this update, doing my best to avoid falling asleep at the
Man, where do I begin?
Let's see here... The last time I made a post, it was late on Tuesday night. It seems like it was a month ago. I know that I worked on Wednesday, from looking over the scribbles in my notebook, I am reminded that it was kind of a shiatty day. The money was decent, but I worked much too hard for it, and the shift in the poker room was a total grind.
Thursday I didn't do a damn thing all day but sleep in and assemble bookcases. I was On-Call that day, but figured that my phone might be ringing at some point. Of course, there was the T2V private poker tournament on PokerStars that night, and I made a good showing, busting out in fourth place as the Bubble Boy, one spot away from the money. I was happy that Sticky made it to the cash, but the really important thing is that I outlasted Dougie, Terry, and Doc, who I consider to be the Holy Trinity of Dead Money. It was a fun tournament and the two hands that knocked me out were hands that I got all my money in the pot with the best hand before the flop. I played very well, but you know how PokerStars is, the best hands rarely hold up.
Anyhow, after the tourney was over, I was hangin' out in the chatroom shooting the shiat with all of my compadres, and my phone started ringing. It was the poker room calling, telling me put on my Johnnie Cash clothes and get down there post-haste; The room was a burnin' ring of fire and they needed another body to help douse the flames.
So I said my goodbyes to everyone and hauled ass down to the casino, making it to the casino in time for the 9:00 pm push. I started a new no-limit game, and it was off to the races after that. We were so busy that at one point I pushed five games in a row, not getting a break for almost three hours. But I didn't care--the money was great and it beat sitting at home watching TV or running the same tired poker smack at Terry and Doc. Oh wait, that never gets old...
You're playin' a little loose with T's chips there, aren't ya Doc?
Anyhow... It was a good night at work and I'm glad they called me in. Hell, anytime my take-home scratch is more than triple whatever the daily high temperature is, it's a good day at the office...
I almost had to do some overtime again early on Friday morning, but luckily the games started breaking around 5:00 am and I managed to scoot out of there after just eight long and very tiring hours behind the burnt-orange felt. I remember craving an Egg McMuffin after work, but the sad fact of the matter is that there is not a single Golden Arches joint between the casino and my house. And I was too tired to drive a mile out of my way to find one, either. But wait--there's a Jack in the Box on Horizon Ridge! Oh man, I could almost *taste* that Breakfast Jack...
Unfortunately, it's that same damn Jack in the Box that Rob and I found a few months back that says they are open 24/7, but in reality, they're not. Yelling at the menu board at 5:30 in the morning is no way to go through life, son, and just like in space, nobody can hear you scream. Especially if they're closed.
Breakfast Jack denied.
Defeated, I stopped at the nearest convenience store and picked up a carton of milk and some DCWL bottles instead. I still had some Havarti and some Braunschweiger in my mini-fridge, and a half-box of wheat thins, so that would have to do for my post-work meal.
I set up a little tray with the meat, cheese, and crackers, and set it on the end of my bed with my Diet Coke. I pulled the computer over to do a little surfing while I ate, and I swear I might've downed about four or five crackers and half of the other goodies before I passed out face down in front of the computer.
I woke up about six hours later--my laptop had shut itself off, like it's supposed to do, but my tray of dried out meat and cheese was still sitting there, along with a half-bottle of warm and flat Diet Coke.
I guess that night in the casino just wore my ass out. Eventually, I found the strength to get up out of bed, clean up my mess, and take a shower. I had some errands to run on Friday afternoon, like going down to the bank to deposit a pile of cash (the total opposite of my normal banking ritual), visiting my insurance agent, and doing a bit of shopping.
Since my insurance agent is over in the old neighborhood--no, the other old neighborhood, by Wayne Newton's place--I decided to head down to Tropicana and goof off over there for a bit. I wanted to go by and do some
I've got a closet full of ammunition, yet no vessel for delivery, as I sold off all my firearms back in the adventurous early days of my Vegas experience when I had no job and needed to pay $1400 for a new transmission in the Ghetto Sled. So I've been thinking of replenishing the nightstand for some time now (it's not just for dirty magazines, you know!), and now that the finances are in better shape than they've been in almost a decade, I thought I'd go down and 'kick the tires' on a new GI .45 and maybe a Buckmark .22. Unfortunately, they didn't have anything that truly tickled my fancy, but they had lots of fun stuff to gawk at. But as soon as they figured out that I wasn't a tourist looking to part with a few quick bucks, well, they lost interest in me about as fast as a stripper does when she realizes that my ATM card is finally tapped out.
So I didn't end up buying anything, and I'm pretty sure that when I do, it won't be from them anyways. They're a little too proud of their reputation, and it's reflected in their prices and service, so I'll find me another place to do business when it's time to fork out the cash.
After my business in that part of town was concluded, I headed back over to Eastern to fight the traffic on my way back towards Henderson. Those of you familiar with Vegas geography know what lies between Tropicana and Henderson on Eastern Ave. That's right-- Grimaldi's! Oh, and by then it was around 4:00 in the afternoon--creepin' up on dinner time. And to somebody who'd only eaten a few crackers and half a diet Coke all day, well, Grimaldi's sounded like a damn fine idea.
I sat at the bar and enjoyed an icy cold Peroni from the tap while I perused their all-too-familiar menu. I don't know why I even bothered reading it. I knew what I was gonna get. You know what I was gonna get. Everyone knows what I was gonna get--a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza. And another Peroni, if you please.
Of course my dinner was absolutely delicious--I hadn't been to Grimaldi's in far too long (I believe the last time was when Dave P was here and I was distracted by all the Kimmy drama), so it was nice to be back. The cool thing about sitting at the bar is that I heard all of the phoned-in to-go orders, and I swear, every single person ordered the cannolis. I wasn't really hungry for them myself, but I was intrigued.
So after I gave up on my pizza and had them box up the leftovers, I gave in to temptation and had them put a couple of cannolis in a box to go, also. And you know what? Those things didn't last two hours once I got them home. I opened up the box to take a peek, and I couldn't resist, so I went ahead and had my dessert as soon as I poured myself a glass of milk. They were damn good!
I was still pretty tired on Friday night, and I was tempted to go out and play some cards, but I knew I had to be at work early the next morning. And I was also afraid I might get called in to work earlier, too, especially if there were a lot of late-night drunken no-limit games going. So I stayed home and watched a couple of movies that night (after making sure, of course, that they weren't cleverly-named pornos), and went to bed early.
The next morning, a very depressing thing happened. I woke up two minutes before the alarm clock. I don't know about the rest of you folks, but I *hate* that more than standing in line at the DMV. I was whining about it later on to The Mysterious Ali, but she kept trying to put a positive spin on it and I was having none of it. I felt like I'd been robbed of two minutes of precious sleepy time, and no amount of happiness, sunshine, rainbows, or hippie lettuce was gonna make me think otherwise. Like many other conversations we've had, we just agreed to disagree...
But work on Saturday was much slower. I don't know why, but there just weren't as many players out and about that day. And it showed up where it hurt me the most--in the wallet. Not only that, but we also had four dealers coming in to deal the tournament, meaning that there were four tables going, but seven dealers on hand. Somebody had to go home. And well, guess who had come in the earliest and also had the least amount of seniority in the room.
Uh, yeah, that would be me. So I got sent home at 10:30. That sucked. Why even bother to go to work if the money was gonna suck and I was gonna get sent home after four hours anyways? Ugh...
Well, I figured that if I couldn't make any money dealing, I should take another shot at playing, so I signed up for the 11:00 am tournament after I clocked out and changed clothes.
Now, even though it was less than 36 hours ago from the time I'm writing this, it seems like a week--that's how crazy my world has been lately. So the details are a little fuzzy. But I remember playing pretty well and having a good chip lead at my table. A couple hours went by and I found myself at the final table, which was not bad, as there were 38 players that entered the tourney.
Once we got down to being six-handed, there was talk of a six-way chop on the prize money, as we thought that it would net us each about $275 apiece. I was in favor of it, since the structure had only five players making the money, but the old fart with the monster chip stack would have no part of it, so we all kept playing. Unfortunately, I was pretty card dead by then, and the best hand I could get was a pair of Nines that ran into some jerkoff with an Ace-Seven who called my pre-flop all-in bet. Of course he caught an Ace on the turn, which crippled me. I had him covered, but that took a big chunk of my stack down.
The hand that got me was... wait for it... Yes, Ace-Queen of diamonds. I went all in, and the big blind called me blind. He didn't even look at his cards, and when we turned 'em up, I thought I was golden--he had 5-7 offsuit. But the flop came out 9-7-5 and I was toast, out in sixth place.
Out on the bubble for the second time in three days.
Talk about being pissed off. That's no way to get knocked out of a tournament. But it took so long to get down to the final five that as soon as I got knocked out, the rest of the players decided to go ahead and chop up the prize pool and they each got over $300. Talk about adding insult to injury... I was not a happy camper, but what could I do?
But after I cooled down and stopped my internal temper tantrum, my cooler head prevailed and I realized that just like Austin Powers, I had gotten my Mojo back. I may have been the bubble boy in both tournaments, but both times a crappier hand and a bad call took me out. I couldn't have done any better either time. And really, getting sixth place out of 38 ain't too shabby, either.
So even though I was pissed off, there was still a silver lining. Maybe Ali was right about the alarm clock, too. But it would've been better to have cashed. And gotten that two extra minutes of sleep.
I checked the schedule before I got out of there and seeing the lack of overnight dealers, I just *knew* that I'd get called in early on Sunday morning. So once again, I was home and in bed early, waiting for that phone to ring. Finally, at 4:00 am, I heard that familiar noise on the nightstand. Yep, work was calling, asking if I could be in by five.
When they called, there were two limit-games going, plus one no-limit game, with three dealers all locked down. About the time I was pulling into the parking garage, one of the limit games broke, and shortly thereafter, all the good players left the no-limit game. So by the time I got to my tables, all that was left was a bunch of fleas with no place else to go.
The first three hours of my day were just plain awful. The bad beat jackpot is up to almost a quarter million dollars, and it's gonna hit at any moment. So both my no-limit game and the 4-8 game were only half-full--populated only by losers who weren't interested in actually playing poker, but mostly limping in, checking all the way down, and playing as slowly as possible, just hoping to be present at the table in case the jackpot hit.
After my first half-hour down, I'd made a whopping $6 in tokes, all from one guy at the table who was actually a decent regular player. Everyone else was just a pack of stiffs. And then when I went to the 4-8 game, I made $7 during that first down. It was awful and the floorman was apologizing profusely for calling me in early.
It went that way for quite awhile, but finally sometime around 9:00 am or so, the backwards-hat wearing crowd started to show up and the tables got full--no more limping in or checking around. We started pushing some pots around the tables and finally started making some decent money.
The daily tournament also filled up pretty quickly, and I think we had like 36 or 38 players again. And not only did the floorman say I wouldn't be going home early, but it was likely that I'd work some overtime, too, which is exactly what happened. I ended up getting locked in to a five-table push, and the room kept getting busier as the day wore on.
I finally got cut loose around 2pm, but stuck around to watch the last bit of the final table from the 11 o'clock tournament--a couple of my favorite players made it to the end, so I was rooting for them to do well. Besides that, knowing that I'd be off on Monday, I wanted to stick around and collect my tournament money once the thing ended. I didn't want to wait till Tuesday morning to pick up an envelope full of cash.
It turns out that we made $17 for each tournament down, which isn't bad, (only $34 per hour), but the tournament lasted so long that it kind of lowered the average. It could've been better, but I was cool with pocketing another seventy bucks on top of my tokes from the cash games. A couple of the players tried to talk me in to sticking around and playing for a couple of hours, and man, I was sorely tempted, especially because of that Bad Beat Jackpot, but I was just too damn tired.
Besides, I had another T2V poker tournament to play in at six, and I wanted to get away from work anyways. On the way home, I decided to stop at Timbers and get some lunch--I was hungry and didn't want to mess around in the kitchen at home, as it was just too hot and I was feeling too lazy.
I had a nice salad to start out with (although I was burping cucumbers for hours afterwards), and for an entree I had some chicken Parmesan with a side of fettuccine, and I washed the meal down with a couple of glasses of raspberry iced tea. It really hit the spot.
Of course, by the time I got home, I was a complete zombie. Another long day at work completely kicked my ass, and as I was taking a cool shower to get the casino funk off of me, I found myself wondering how you folks that worked 40 hours a week do it. Man--I've gotten so spoiled only working three or four days a week, maybe six hours a day, that now that I've been working real hours again, it's taking a toll!
People think that dealing poker is an easy job, and granted, it's not exactly physically demanding, but damn, it is certainly mentally challenging, and after a long day of it, I'm just drained.
Anyhow, I spent a couple of hours relaxing once I got home, afraid that I'd fall asleep and miss the online poker tournament. I started reading all of the email that's been stacking up this week, so that kept me entertained. I'll get around to answering it later today once I get some sleep.
Also, I got a message from Dougie--brothaman found a Jack Youngblood throwback Rams jersey on Ebay, in my size, so he asked if I wanted it. Well hell yeah I did, so he started bidding on it, and I found out later that he won it. I think it ended up costing like $60 or so, and I should have it in a week or so. That's pretty frickin' cool.
I think the auction ended right about the time the T2V poker tourney started, and luckily I was still awake when it got underway. I think we had maybe 15 or 16 players, and I got a good chuckle when I saw Doc go out in 15th place after just a few minutes (although it would've been a little sweeter had I been the one to knock him out, but well, ya can't have everything). I was playing well myself, and for a few minutes, I was the chip leader. But Sammi crushed somebody and took a monster lead that she didn't relinquish for quite some time.
I wasn't at his table, but I was watching Dougie struggle on life-support early on, but eventually he chipped up and we both made it to the top five in money once we got down to one table. I don't remember all of the details, but I know that I put a bad beat on somebody who was holding Aces (It's PokerStars--everyone *knew* the Aces wouldn't hold up!) that gave me a huge chip lead, and then I was able to bully the blinds for awhile.
It turns out that Dougie and I were the Last Men Standing, and when it got down to heads-up play, I had him out-chipped almost two-to-one. He kept making plays at me, but I always had something when he did, so he was kind of banging his head against the wall. I think on the last hand he bet into me when I had trips, and I eventually made a full house to win the entire tournament.
Woot! I'm back baby!!! Off the schneid, off the bubble. It felt good to win again, and it felt especially good to beat all those T2V jokers. So now I get to talk all the smack I want until the next time we do it--Probably in a week or so, so my reign at the top may be short-lived.
And that brings us to now. I started writing this post about nine hours ago, but between catnaps and poker playing, it's taken me awhile to write it all down. But now we're all caught up.
Today, I'm actually scheduled to be officially off from work--I'm not even on call. The day is mine, and I'm going to enjoy it to the fullest. I'm not sure exactly what I'm gonna do all day, but I can guarantee that it won't be dealing poker. I've got my phone turned off and I plan on spending some quality time with my pillow. Other than that, it's all up in the air. There may be some adventure afoot later in the afternoon or evening, but right now, I'm just enjoying the fact that I have no place that I have to be for the next day and a half.
Mikey
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