It's been a helluva week for me. Work has been a total grind, and today was the first day all week that I actually worked a full eight hours. But it wasn't a good eight hours--the first two were spent on my ass doing absolutely nothing, the next four were half-on, half-off, and then I was finally busy for the last two hours.
Didn't make much money though--like I said, it was a grind.
I didn't get much sleep the night before, so I zombied my way home this afternoon, then took a shower and tried to watch some tv. I tried to stay awake, but there's only so much info on Tom Brady's knee that they can say without repeating, so sleep was a blessing. I dozed right through the first hour of the WSOP coverage on ESPN before waking up.
Since I'm not making any money at work right now, I've been playing a little more online poker, too. I won $225 last night, and once I woke up this afternoon, I won another $90 in a $22 sit-n-go. But my lucky streak came to an end a few minutes ago when my pocket Aces got cracked by a dude on a draw. He got there, and I arrived a little early for my appointment with the rail.
Otherwise, there's not much going on around here. I'm taking the rest of the night off from the online poker tables, but sipping a nice tall glass of OJ and silver rum. I may watch a movie then try and get a full-night's rest tonight.
Sorry for the dull posts, but the muse isn't speaking to me right now. Maybe later this week.
Mikey
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
I Want That Trophy, So Dance Good...
When you little scamps get together, you're worse than a sewing circle...Well. I'm glad to see that I gave you guys something to chew on over the weekend. But you're all just a wee bit off. I spent a lot of time with Beth on Saturday, and we had another lengthy conversation today, and the truth is, there is no problem. I'm not sad, depressed, rejected, or anything like that. And my collection of rum bottles still looks exactly the same way it did in that picture I posted.
For one thing, I'm not all wrapped up in her like I was with Kimmy. True, she is so attractive that it's almost to the point of distraction every time I talk to her, but that's not the issue. I call her my favorite gal, because, truthfully, there's just nobody else I'm interested in. And she makes it very easy to forget about Kimmy, although, the other problem is that they're damn near best friends, and so I took a few uncomfortable questions on Saturday. But that was just a small part of our conversation.
Anyhow, the bottom line, is that while we get along well, are quite compatible, and I make her laugh, I found out that she's kinda on-again off-again with her ex-husband. She admitted as much when pressed, which kinda put me in an awkward position. So I told her I didn't want to get in the way of that, especially since they have a child together (who would obviously be much happier if mommy and daddy got back together). But once that was out in the open, well, it was like a tension-breaker and it was much easier to just sit and talk about everything.
So no, there's no there there. But it feels like we're actually closer now. It doesn't make sense on the surface, but it's true. Unlike Kimmy, she still calls and texts me and still wants to hang out on occasion. Kimmy says she does, but she really doesn't. Hell, Beth called me this morning just to tell me about her day so far. Kimmy hasn't called in over two months.
Anyhow, that's the story as far as the wimmenfolk go. I figured it was too good to be true, but it was nice to live the dream for a couple of weeks. Just this morning I had to correct somebody at the casino who saw us together a couple of times, telling him, unfortunately, that no, she's not my girlfriend. She's just a smokin' hot girl I'm lucky enough to hang out with sometimes.
As far as work goes, it's been dead slow lately. Really slow. I'm scheduled every day, but I spend half my shift doing nothing, the other half dealing the old foga's limpfest game, and then I get sent home early. The money has been horrible this week, so I'm trying to make it up at the poker table.
I won a few bucks online this week, but not quite enough to retire on just yet. But I'm working on it.
Later on this evening I'll post some more nonsense, but I wanted to clear the air... All is well in the life of Mikey. I just wish I were a little busier at work, that's all.
Mikey
Sunday, September 07, 2008
A League Of My Own
Yeah, I was in the show. I was in the show for 21 days once - the 21 greatest days of my life. You know, you never handle your luggage in the show, somebody else carries your bags. It was great. You hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, and the women all have long legs and brains.
As great as my stint in the majors was, I think I'll be toiling in the minors for awhile.
Mikey
As great as my stint in the majors was, I think I'll be toiling in the minors for awhile.
Mikey
Friday, September 05, 2008
Too Much Is Never Enough
4.1 bottle of happiness:
Or, as I like to call it, the Four Horsemen of the Rumpocalypse.
Ok, so after my little shopping trip to Lee's Discount Liquor the other day, I was feeling a little remorseful that I didn't pick up any Captain Morgan. I had none in the house, and it's a staple, every bit as important and useful as coffee, hot sauce, or peanut butter. Seriously, running out of The Captain is an inconvenience almost on the scale of running out of quilted Northern. You can do without it for a few days, but nobody's gonna want to hang out with you...
So this afternoon, as I was oot and aboot (as Sticky would say), I decided to hit the liquor store again and fill that hole in my rum collection. My original plan was to pick up two different bottles, and I was leaning towards a bottle of the Captain's Private Stock, but I was tempted by the fruit of another on the rum aisle. I saw something that wasn't there earlier in the week--a bottle of Mt. Gay Eclipse Silver rum. I've never had that before, so that went into my shopping basket, along with a bottle of the original Captain. I love silver rum--if you get a good one, it's the best thing to mix with fruit juice. People that drink bloody marys or screwdrivers with their breakfast have no idea what they're missing.
And as it turns out, my favorite gal is currently "on a Patron kick", so I picked up a mini-bottle of that for her while I was there, too. That explains the point-one thing.
So in addition to my twenty-odd bottles of rum I already have on hand (my garage is beginning to look like that underground stash on Pirates of the Caribbean, before Elizabeth Swann got to it), I've got four new bottles of tasty goodness to choose from.
If you look closely at the picture, you'll see that I've already had a tot or two of the Sugar Cane rum (bottle "D"). It's pretty damn good, but it doesn't surpass the flavor or depth of my favorite, the original Eclipse version (bottle "C"). And that Eclipse rum makes the best pina coladas you will ever taste--just add ice, pineapple juice, and some Coco Loco.
Anyhow, that was kind of the highlight of my afternoon. As it turns out, I didn't get my manicure today, as per the original plan.
Last night, just after midnight, I was asleep in front of the SportsCenter highlights when my phone woke me up again. Beth was calling, and she sounded kind of upset. She had just gotten home from work and there was some drama she had to deal with, and she wanted to talk for a bit. I listened and we talked, and eventually, I helped her get back in a better mood and giggling again. In the course of our conversation I found out that I was her only appointment for the next day (today), so I told her that I'd reschedule if she wanted to, saving her from having to go into work for just an hour. But she came up with an offer I couldn't refuse.
She said she'd get her stuff from the spa, and she'd rather just have me come over to her place this weekend and get my manicure done for free. I couldn't pass that up, so instead of having to crash the gates at this country club where she works, we're eliminating the middle-man and I'm gonna just go spend the afternoon with her. I'd rather do that anyways. And of course I wouldn't let her do my nails for free--she's gonna get dinner out of the deal, so it's kind of a win/win situation as far as I can tell. And as a bonus, I get to spend some *real* time with her, free from work schedules or time constraints.
Other than that, there's not much else to report. I've got a poker-centric rant in the hopper, but that'll show up maybe on Monday morning. Tomorrow kicks off six days straight of work for me, plus my much-anticipated afternoon/evening with my favorite gal, and it's also the beginning of football season, so I won't be around much until probably Monday.
See ya then!
Mikey
Or, as I like to call it, the Four Horsemen of the Rumpocalypse.
Ok, so after my little shopping trip to Lee's Discount Liquor the other day, I was feeling a little remorseful that I didn't pick up any Captain Morgan. I had none in the house, and it's a staple, every bit as important and useful as coffee, hot sauce, or peanut butter. Seriously, running out of The Captain is an inconvenience almost on the scale of running out of quilted Northern. You can do without it for a few days, but nobody's gonna want to hang out with you...
So this afternoon, as I was oot and aboot (as Sticky would say), I decided to hit the liquor store again and fill that hole in my rum collection. My original plan was to pick up two different bottles, and I was leaning towards a bottle of the Captain's Private Stock, but I was tempted by the fruit of another on the rum aisle. I saw something that wasn't there earlier in the week--a bottle of Mt. Gay Eclipse Silver rum. I've never had that before, so that went into my shopping basket, along with a bottle of the original Captain. I love silver rum--if you get a good one, it's the best thing to mix with fruit juice. People that drink bloody marys or screwdrivers with their breakfast have no idea what they're missing.
And as it turns out, my favorite gal is currently "on a Patron kick", so I picked up a mini-bottle of that for her while I was there, too. That explains the point-one thing.
So in addition to my twenty-odd bottles of rum I already have on hand (my garage is beginning to look like that underground stash on Pirates of the Caribbean, before Elizabeth Swann got to it), I've got four new bottles of tasty goodness to choose from.
If you look closely at the picture, you'll see that I've already had a tot or two of the Sugar Cane rum (bottle "D"). It's pretty damn good, but it doesn't surpass the flavor or depth of my favorite, the original Eclipse version (bottle "C"). And that Eclipse rum makes the best pina coladas you will ever taste--just add ice, pineapple juice, and some Coco Loco.
Anyhow, that was kind of the highlight of my afternoon. As it turns out, I didn't get my manicure today, as per the original plan.
Last night, just after midnight, I was asleep in front of the SportsCenter highlights when my phone woke me up again. Beth was calling, and she sounded kind of upset. She had just gotten home from work and there was some drama she had to deal with, and she wanted to talk for a bit. I listened and we talked, and eventually, I helped her get back in a better mood and giggling again. In the course of our conversation I found out that I was her only appointment for the next day (today), so I told her that I'd reschedule if she wanted to, saving her from having to go into work for just an hour. But she came up with an offer I couldn't refuse.
She said she'd get her stuff from the spa, and she'd rather just have me come over to her place this weekend and get my manicure done for free. I couldn't pass that up, so instead of having to crash the gates at this country club where she works, we're eliminating the middle-man and I'm gonna just go spend the afternoon with her. I'd rather do that anyways. And of course I wouldn't let her do my nails for free--she's gonna get dinner out of the deal, so it's kind of a win/win situation as far as I can tell. And as a bonus, I get to spend some *real* time with her, free from work schedules or time constraints.
Other than that, there's not much else to report. I've got a poker-centric rant in the hopper, but that'll show up maybe on Monday morning. Tomorrow kicks off six days straight of work for me, plus my much-anticipated afternoon/evening with my favorite gal, and it's also the beginning of football season, so I won't be around much until probably Monday.
See ya then!
Mikey
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Why Is All The Rum Gone?
It may be hump day, but it feels like a Monday to me. First of all, I had the day off yesterday, but it didn't seem like I took full advantage of it--I want a do-over!
I was unable to sleep all night long, so around four or five am, I forget which, I put on a pot of coffee and started writing. Once I made my post and finished my coffee, I turned off the computer and the light and immediately fell asleep. For two hours.
I was awakened by Tom Jones. Well, not exactly Mr. Jones himself, but a certain attractive young lass's ringtone is She's A Lady, so I've been conditioned to dive for my phone whenever I hear that song. But she was texting me first thing in the morning, which made my day, since I figured I wouldn't hear from her until I saw her on Friday. But after a few messages back and forth, I told her to get some rest and that I'd see her in a couple days. But then my mind was racing and I was unable to sleep.
Tired as hell but not being able to sleep is a tough combo, and it ate up most of my morning. But around noon, I got up and took a shower, and as soon as I got dressed, I laid back down and immediately fell asleep. For two hours.
The TV was on, so I woke up in the middle of Pardon The Interruption, and I watched that until it's conclusion, and then forced my droopy ass up and out of the house. My first stop was at Angy's favorite store, Lee's Discount Liquors (there's one on Eastern and Sunridge Heights Pkwy, just a few minutes from the house), to pick up some rum. Not just any rum, but a bottle of Mt. Gay Barbados Rum, which is my personal favorite. I grabbed a bottle of that, and then spent another twenty minutes or so just browsing the aisles, trying to keep from going crazy and spending too much money on all that tasty booze I was drooling over. I considered buying some Tuaca, maybe some Grand Marnier, more Baileys and Kahlua, perhaps some vanilla or blueberry vodka. Hell, they even had my favorite wine on sale for $18 a bottle. But in the end, I found my way back to the rum section and picked up a bottle of premium Mt. Gay Sugar Cane Rum. I've never had it before, but I heard it's very good.
I suppose a tasting party would be in order, very soon.
After cashing out at the liquor store, I drove over to the cleaner/alterations shop and picked up my work clothes that had gone in for repair, and then hit the Taco Bell next door for some grub. I came straight home and ate my quesadilla and crunchy tacos while watching the WSOP main event coverage on ESPN.
When that ended, I considered playing a little online poker, but I just wasn't feelin' it. I did, however, go to the T2V chatroom and talk to Angy for a bit, but after that I wanted to go outside, sit on the balcony, smoke my cigar, drink my rum, and just enjoy a peaceful evening. But damn, my lack of sleep was just killing me and I was just too tired--when I thought that it'd take an hour or more to smoke my cigar, well, it just killed my motivation. So I turned off the TV, got undressed, turned off the lights, and went to bed.
This time, I slept for three hours.
I've been up ever since. But my alarm is set to go off at five, so if the pattern holds, I should be able to get another two hours of sleep if I close my eyes as soon as I post this...
I'm out.
Mikey
I was unable to sleep all night long, so around four or five am, I forget which, I put on a pot of coffee and started writing. Once I made my post and finished my coffee, I turned off the computer and the light and immediately fell asleep. For two hours.
I was awakened by Tom Jones. Well, not exactly Mr. Jones himself, but a certain attractive young lass's ringtone is She's A Lady, so I've been conditioned to dive for my phone whenever I hear that song. But she was texting me first thing in the morning, which made my day, since I figured I wouldn't hear from her until I saw her on Friday. But after a few messages back and forth, I told her to get some rest and that I'd see her in a couple days. But then my mind was racing and I was unable to sleep.
Tired as hell but not being able to sleep is a tough combo, and it ate up most of my morning. But around noon, I got up and took a shower, and as soon as I got dressed, I laid back down and immediately fell asleep. For two hours.
The TV was on, so I woke up in the middle of Pardon The Interruption, and I watched that until it's conclusion, and then forced my droopy ass up and out of the house. My first stop was at Angy's favorite store, Lee's Discount Liquors (there's one on Eastern and Sunridge Heights Pkwy, just a few minutes from the house), to pick up some rum. Not just any rum, but a bottle of Mt. Gay Barbados Rum, which is my personal favorite. I grabbed a bottle of that, and then spent another twenty minutes or so just browsing the aisles, trying to keep from going crazy and spending too much money on all that tasty booze I was drooling over. I considered buying some Tuaca, maybe some Grand Marnier, more Baileys and Kahlua, perhaps some vanilla or blueberry vodka. Hell, they even had my favorite wine on sale for $18 a bottle. But in the end, I found my way back to the rum section and picked up a bottle of premium Mt. Gay Sugar Cane Rum. I've never had it before, but I heard it's very good.
I suppose a tasting party would be in order, very soon.
After cashing out at the liquor store, I drove over to the cleaner/alterations shop and picked up my work clothes that had gone in for repair, and then hit the Taco Bell next door for some grub. I came straight home and ate my quesadilla and crunchy tacos while watching the WSOP main event coverage on ESPN.
When that ended, I considered playing a little online poker, but I just wasn't feelin' it. I did, however, go to the T2V chatroom and talk to Angy for a bit, but after that I wanted to go outside, sit on the balcony, smoke my cigar, drink my rum, and just enjoy a peaceful evening. But damn, my lack of sleep was just killing me and I was just too tired--when I thought that it'd take an hour or more to smoke my cigar, well, it just killed my motivation. So I turned off the TV, got undressed, turned off the lights, and went to bed.
This time, I slept for three hours.
I've been up ever since. But my alarm is set to go off at five, so if the pattern holds, I should be able to get another two hours of sleep if I close my eyes as soon as I post this...
I'm out.
Mikey
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Can't Fight It
I guess it's probably a combination of routine and paranoia, but I just can't sleep. I've been awake all night, and as hard as I've tried to fall asleep, it just won't happen for me. It seems that my phone is always ringing in the middle of the night, calling me in to work, and even though business is somewhat slow right now and I'm fairly certain I won't have to work today, there's still that off-chance that they'll need me. And since I'm always up at this hour anyways, well, my system wants to be awake, no matter how much I need to rest.
So I've got Brother Jimmy providing the background music, and I put a pot of coffee on, and here I am, alone with my keyboard.
After my roommate got home yesterday afternoon and I informed him of how ill-behaved the critters were while he was gone, he set about taking care of business. First of all, we steam-cleaned the carpets in the loft, and after that he installed a baby-gate at the top of the stairs. But not just any baby-gate, this one got screwed to the wall, has hinges, and we can secure it with a bungee cord. If one of the canines wants to get up here now, they're gonna have to crash the gate at full speed and tear it out of the wall.
There ain't no way they're gonna get up here now. No more jumping up on my bed in the middle of the night, either, begging for me to play.
Speaking of baby-gate, I think I'm gonna spend a good portion of my day cruising around the internet, entertaining myself watching the far-left freaks just come absolutely unhinged about our next Vice President. As much as I despised the crooks from Arkansas back in the 90's, I never flipped by shit over a political figure like some of these folks have. I can only shake my head in disbelief when I read some of the comments I've seen on different political websites. Hell, even though my affiliations run to the right side of the aisle, I vowed several years ago that I'd never vote for Grumpy John, and I was tempted to sit this one out. But after hearing Friday's announcement, watching the acceptance speech, and then doing a little research, not only have I gotten off the proverbial couch, but I busted out the MasterCard and sent in a generous campaign donation--something I haven't done in over eight years.
(BTW, that previous paragraph was not an invitation to use my comment section as a political forum. Respectful comments are welcome, no matter what point of view. Remarks from feces-flinging monkeys will be deleted with extreme prejudice and your IP addresses will be blocked. One paragraph does NOT make this a political website, but you know, my house, my rules).
Anyhow, once the upstairs part of the house was cleaned and secured, I played in a cheapie online tournament while watching the UCLA/Tennessee game, but I bubbled out to a better hand and a bigger chip stack. Then I saw that Sticky and Steve B were also playing poker, so I spent the rest of my evening watching them--it was cheaper than chasing cards which obviously don't want to land on me right now anyways.
As far as today goes, I've got a couple of errands to run--I've got to pick up a couple of pairs of work pants from the alteration shop, and I've got a couple of pairs of shorts to drop off in their stead. I may get the oil changed in the truck too, as it's about 500 miles overdue, and as a lucky coincidence, the Express Lube place is just across the street from the alterations shop. And right next door is a Lee's Discount Liquor store, and even though I have about 25 bottles of rum on hand, I'm out of my favorite, Mt. Gay from Barbados, so I'm gonna pick up a bottle of the Good Stuff.
And the temperature is gonna be a bit milder tonight, so I think it'll be a perfect opportunity to mix up a cocktail, grab a fine cigar, and sit out on the balcony enjoying the lights of the city for a couple of hours. I might as well be drinking my favorite rum while I'm smoking one of my favorite cigars and gazing out at my favorite city. If only my favorite gal were here to join me, it'd be a perfect evening. But alas, that is not to be, for she is engaged in a more noble cause this night--delivering free booze to gamblers, nurturing that wellspring of currency that flows like a river through this fine city, thus enabling me to maintain the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed.
Anyhow...
I'm actually looking forward to getting out of the house and running my errands today. One of the reasons is because of my new sunglasses. Seriously, it's like driving around in HD when I'm wearing them. My old sunglasses weren't prescription, so my eyesight wasn't so great during the day. At night, obviously, I'd use my regular glasses, but aside from all the neon and flashing lights, there ain't much to see. But damn, during the day, now that I've got these prescription sunglasses, everything is so clear that it's amazing. I feel like Homer Simpson in that episode where he suddenly went three-dimensional.
I'm also finding that I forget to take them off, so I'm that dork walking around indoors--like at the grocery store--with my sunglasses on. And if I wasn't afraid of looking like a jackass, I'd probably wear them at the poker table, too. Hell, I've already got the iPod, and I bet if I looked hard enough, I could find myself a backwards cap to wear, too. The bottom line is that I can't sing enough praises about my new shades. They're that good. I feel the same way about my cell phone and my new wallet too. All three have completely exceeded my expectations, so regardless of the cost, I do not suffer from buyer's remorse.
But my spending is done for now. There are bills to pay, a trip to Phoenix in a few weeks, and time with a nice gal I need to save for. No more toys for awhile.
Mikey
So I've got Brother Jimmy providing the background music, and I put a pot of coffee on, and here I am, alone with my keyboard.
After my roommate got home yesterday afternoon and I informed him of how ill-behaved the critters were while he was gone, he set about taking care of business. First of all, we steam-cleaned the carpets in the loft, and after that he installed a baby-gate at the top of the stairs. But not just any baby-gate, this one got screwed to the wall, has hinges, and we can secure it with a bungee cord. If one of the canines wants to get up here now, they're gonna have to crash the gate at full speed and tear it out of the wall.
There ain't no way they're gonna get up here now. No more jumping up on my bed in the middle of the night, either, begging for me to play.
Speaking of baby-gate, I think I'm gonna spend a good portion of my day cruising around the internet, entertaining myself watching the far-left freaks just come absolutely unhinged about our next Vice President. As much as I despised the crooks from Arkansas back in the 90's, I never flipped by shit over a political figure like some of these folks have. I can only shake my head in disbelief when I read some of the comments I've seen on different political websites. Hell, even though my affiliations run to the right side of the aisle, I vowed several years ago that I'd never vote for Grumpy John, and I was tempted to sit this one out. But after hearing Friday's announcement, watching the acceptance speech, and then doing a little research, not only have I gotten off the proverbial couch, but I busted out the MasterCard and sent in a generous campaign donation--something I haven't done in over eight years.
(BTW, that previous paragraph was not an invitation to use my comment section as a political forum. Respectful comments are welcome, no matter what point of view. Remarks from feces-flinging monkeys will be deleted with extreme prejudice and your IP addresses will be blocked. One paragraph does NOT make this a political website, but you know, my house, my rules).
Anyhow, once the upstairs part of the house was cleaned and secured, I played in a cheapie online tournament while watching the UCLA/Tennessee game, but I bubbled out to a better hand and a bigger chip stack. Then I saw that Sticky and Steve B were also playing poker, so I spent the rest of my evening watching them--it was cheaper than chasing cards which obviously don't want to land on me right now anyways.
As far as today goes, I've got a couple of errands to run--I've got to pick up a couple of pairs of work pants from the alteration shop, and I've got a couple of pairs of shorts to drop off in their stead. I may get the oil changed in the truck too, as it's about 500 miles overdue, and as a lucky coincidence, the Express Lube place is just across the street from the alterations shop. And right next door is a Lee's Discount Liquor store, and even though I have about 25 bottles of rum on hand, I'm out of my favorite, Mt. Gay from Barbados, so I'm gonna pick up a bottle of the Good Stuff.
And the temperature is gonna be a bit milder tonight, so I think it'll be a perfect opportunity to mix up a cocktail, grab a fine cigar, and sit out on the balcony enjoying the lights of the city for a couple of hours. I might as well be drinking my favorite rum while I'm smoking one of my favorite cigars and gazing out at my favorite city. If only my favorite gal were here to join me, it'd be a perfect evening. But alas, that is not to be, for she is engaged in a more noble cause this night--delivering free booze to gamblers, nurturing that wellspring of currency that flows like a river through this fine city, thus enabling me to maintain the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed.
Anyhow...
I'm actually looking forward to getting out of the house and running my errands today. One of the reasons is because of my new sunglasses. Seriously, it's like driving around in HD when I'm wearing them. My old sunglasses weren't prescription, so my eyesight wasn't so great during the day. At night, obviously, I'd use my regular glasses, but aside from all the neon and flashing lights, there ain't much to see. But damn, during the day, now that I've got these prescription sunglasses, everything is so clear that it's amazing. I feel like Homer Simpson in that episode where he suddenly went three-dimensional.
I'm also finding that I forget to take them off, so I'm that dork walking around indoors--like at the grocery store--with my sunglasses on. And if I wasn't afraid of looking like a jackass, I'd probably wear them at the poker table, too. Hell, I've already got the iPod, and I bet if I looked hard enough, I could find myself a backwards cap to wear, too. The bottom line is that I can't sing enough praises about my new shades. They're that good. I feel the same way about my cell phone and my new wallet too. All three have completely exceeded my expectations, so regardless of the cost, I do not suffer from buyer's remorse.
But my spending is done for now. There are bills to pay, a trip to Phoenix in a few weeks, and time with a nice gal I need to save for. No more toys for awhile.
Mikey
Monday, September 01, 2008
Labor Day Weekend, The Sequel
Hey everyone!
I hope you all had a wonderful Labor Day weekend, and took a moment to remember those of us who had to 'labor' all weekend.
I'm pretty sure that I've got the day off tomorrow, so I'm sitting down with a tot of rum and a glass of Coke, getting ready to enjoy the Tennessee/UCLA game. But I thought that I could go ahead and throw something up on the ol' website to satisfy all you re-clickers out there, so I'm multitasking.
My weekend, besides having to work, was rather uneventful. I had Friday off, so I went out on Thursday night, hoping to watch the kickoff of the college football season at the sportsbook. Unfortunately, I was sitting in front of the most obnoxious person in the entire book, and could only take about a half-hour of listening to him before I got up and left.
Realizing that there were plenty of TVs in the poker room, I went over there instead, and put my name on the interest list for the No-Limit cash game. While waiting for that, I sat down at a 4/8 game to try my luck.
Unfortunately, I spent an hour being reminded of just how much I hate limit poker now. After playing no-limit almost exclusively for the past four or five months, putting the brakes on and hoping my big hands held up against five or six callers was just an exercise in futility. I lost about a hundred bucks in that hour, mostly because of everyone calling all the way down to the river and catching their miracle card.
That wasn't much fun.
Luckily, the no-limit game got started, so I was much happier once I got to move to a different, and better, game.
I thought I'd just run over the no-limit game, but there were two factors working against me. First of all, the room I work in has some *excellent* players--it's an extremely tough game to beat, and second of all, I was experiencing a run of dead cards like I'd never before seen in my entire poker-playing life.
I bought in to the game for $200, but at one point, I played over three hours straight without ever seeing a flop. Yep, I folded every hand for at least 20 orbits around the table. How do I know this? Because without playing a single hand, in three hours I was down $60 in blinds (it was a $1/$2 no-limit game). It cost me three bucks in blinds every ten hands, so I went 200+ hands straight without ever seeing a flop. Talk about a shiatty run of cards.
Adding insult to injury, when I eventually won my first pot, it was a split one. But since I had no place to be the next morning, I was content to hang out and have a cocktail or two and laugh it up with a few of the other players for several hours. The guy who was on the short side (the $30,000 winner) of the bad-bead jackpot was sitting next to me, and we were having a great time there at the table. He got me started drinking that Tuaca stuff, which I thought was some sort of Mexican liqueur, but I soon found out was Italian brandy. It was damn good, though, and I think it would make a fine companion to a good cigar (much easier to drink than Grand Marnier).
Anyhow, as much fun as I was having playing at the poker table, I finally called it a night around 2:00 am. I played fairly tight, but after nine hours, I'd nursed my $260 as far as I could take it. And in the final tally, I went the entire nine hours getting nothing better than two pair. That's right--I never once got three of a kind or made a straight. One hand I was lucky enough to be holding the Ace of Clubs and it was checked all the way to the river when four clubs were on the board, so I got a small pot on that flush, but otherwise, I didn't make a hand all night long. Completely blowing the law of averages, I only got six pocket pairs the entire night, the highest of which were Jacks, and they went into the muck after the flop when an Ace and King showed up and two people ahead of me couldn't wait to get money into the pot.
I swear, I've never been so card dead--it was awful. Before I headed home, I stopped to get a Fatburger and some onion rings, which was about the high point of the night, as not only did I just donate to the poker economy, but I'd also made a decent bet on the Oregon State Beavers, who not only didn't cover the three points they were laying against Stanford, but they lost the game outright!
Driving home, I figured that Thursday was an aberration, and that the cards eventually had to come my way. But I wasn't going to risk it, and I spent Friday doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and reading. I didn't even go out that night except to fetch some groceries.
Of course, I went to bed early, figuring that I'd get called in to work early, too. It was a holiday weekend, and even though I was scheduled to work at 6:00 am on Saturday morning, I was fairly certain that there would be a little carry-over from Friday night and my phone would be ringing.
I was right, and had to go in at 4:00 am. But my bad luck continued, as just after I got to work, the overnight games started breaking up and I ended up dealing a short-handed game that wasn't very juicy anyways.
And looking at the daily schedule, I knew I was in for a crummy day money-wise. The bosses had completely overstaffed for the weekend, and there were 10 dealers slated to come in before 11:00 am.
I managed to make a few bucks before my game broke, but then I sat on my ass doing nothing until 8:00 am when the next dealer came in. By then, a few of the old guys came in, but their game was short-handed. Since there were a couple more dealers coming in at 9:00, meaning that we'd have more dealers than players, I took myself out of the rotation and volunteered to prop the game with my own bankroll.
Unfortunately, my card-deadness continued, and I played for an hour before giving up in disgust, burning through $80 without winning a single pot. Again, I got a few pairs, but nothing better than two pair the whole time. I finally clocked out and went home, figuring that the poker gods had forsaken me this week.
Since I have a whole new stack of books from Amazon sitting on my desk, and it was opening weekend for college football, well, the rest of my day was pretty much taken care of. But when I got home, I walked in the front door and immediately got that Han Solo what-an-interesting-smell-you've-discovered look on my face. The house just reeked!
I came upstairs to the loft and discovered the reason for the stench--there were piles of dog shit everywhere on the carpet!
Now, that caught me completely off-guard because the dogs are extremely well trained. But my roommate had told me when I first moved in that Charlie, the mama-dog, would get upset with him when he left and go upstairs and pee in the loft when he didn't come home at night. So we blocked the stairs. But then once I moved in, having somebody around kind of set her at ease, and she was cool, and after a few weeks, the dogs were free to come up here whenever they wanted. Nobody treated the floor like a litter box.
Anyhow, since it was a holiday weekend, my roommate and his girlfriend took off for California to spend the weekend on the boat. And since I was working all weekend, there was nobody here at the house for hours and hours on end. So Charlie got mad at us and shit all over the floor!
So I spent about a half hour or so picking up the dog turds (luckily they weren't runny and too nasty) and doing what I could to clean the carpet. And when I left the next day, I set a couple of cocktail chairs at the top of the stairs blocking access to the loft.
Sunday was another lame, slow, and overstaffed day at work, but I refused to prop the game that day. I wasn't about to throw any more money down the poker hole. Again, it was so slow that I got sent home after just three hours, and I was kinda curious as to what condition I'd find the house in.
Well, the dogs were still pissed off--when I got home, one of the cocktail chairs was halfway down the stairs on the landing, and there was a nice chunk of drywall taken out of the wall. One of the dogs hand managed to defeat the roadblock, and I found two fresh puddles of piss on the carpet. Again, the spray bottle and towels made an appearance, and I blocked both the top and the bottom of the stairs, basically putting the dogs in time-out, refusing to play with them like I normally do when I get home. They knew they were in trouble after that.
There was another T2V poker tourney that night, and I really didn't wanna play, but I saw that one of my favorite lurkers, Krista, had signed up, so I bit the bullet and registered.
It was an extremely lame tournament--it had been accidentally set up as a limit tourney, so it took twice as long to finish, and not only that, but a couple of PokerStars trolls had managed to get into our private tourney by just asking for the password in the chatbox, and one of the players, being friendly, gave it to them. That kinda irritated me, and coupled with the dog piss, the crappy money at work, and the limit format, well, I was in a foul mood. And even though I made it to the cash and got third place, I really didn't have much fun.
After the tournament, I spent some time updating my iPod, which is always kinda interesting, and I managed to get my entire collection of Jimmy Buffett loaded and organized. Well, all except one album. For whatever reason, I cannot find my Beach House On The Moon CD anywhere, so that one is conspicuously absent. But once that was done, I spent the rest of the night listening to Brother Jimmy sing while I drank a rum and coke and read The Sailing Life.
I went to sleep in a much better mood.
It wasn't much of a sleep, however. I was scheduled to go to work at 6:00 am, but I was still half-awake at midnight, dozing through DeNiro and Pacino in Heat on TNT.
While I was lying there in bed around 1:00, I remember thinking Why is my phone lighting up? A split second later the music started playing and that could mean only one thing--work was calling. The voice on the other end asked if I could come in by 3:00 am, and of course I said that I'd be there.
I reset my alarm for 2:00 am, and tried to doze for another hour.
It was impossible, and I finally stopped fighting it, got up, and got ready for work. When I got to the poker room, there were two games going--one no-limit game and one 4/8 game. The 4/8 game looked like it was going to die at any moment, but the no-limit game was full of all my favorite players.
My spot in the rotation put me at the limit game, and I dealt about five hands before the game broke. But my shiatty luck continued, and while I was closing the game down, the asshat with $700 worth of chips sitting directly next to me in the #1 seat said "Well, I guess I'll just stay here and keep you company".
F*cking great.
This jackass had managed to turn his hundred-dollar buy-in into $700 over the course of the previous eight hours, and since nobody else would listen to how great of a player he was, he had a captive audience with me as I had to reset the decks, balance the rack, and close the table. So he droned on about what a great player he was, and since he was sitting next to me instead of across from me, he couldn't see me rolling my eyes. Finally, I locked the lid on the rack and just walked away, and he was still sitting there droning on about what a great player he was. Even the floorman was like What the hell is he doing over there?
I just shrugged...
But the guy wanted everyone to see him sitting there at the 4/8 table with a couple of racks of chips in front of him, but by then, the room was empty except for the no-limit game. But he desperately wanted the attention. He even started saying that he wanted a seat at the no-limit game because he would cut it up and bust the table.
I would've loved to have seen that, because there was one guy there who is about the best no-limit player I know, and it would've been a bloodbath.
At the bottom of the hour, I pushed in to the no-limit game and a couple of my better players asked me what was up with the guy. I told them what he had said, and one guy immediatgely offered to go and play him heads up. At that point, Mr $700 declined and cashed out and left, shrinking from the challenge. Asshat.
Once I got into the no-limit game, the floorman sent the other dealers home and I was locked down for the next three hours. I certainly didn't mind because it was one of those table you dream about--nice crowd, no obnoxious drunks, fun players, all good tippers. It truly didn't seem like work as I was laughing it up the whole time and getting a cut of each pot. It had a home game vibe and everyone was having a good time.
At some point, I reached that magical point where the shirt pocket wouldn't hold any more chips, and they were spilling out whenever I'd lean over the table to rake in the bets. I managed to rathole a bunch between hands, and when the next dealer came in at 7:00 am, I was good and ready for a break. The first stop was at the desk, and when I emptied my shirt pocket, I found that I'd made more than $200. As soon as I cashed that, I ran to the bathroom for the first time in over four hours. As soon as I unzipped, my pants went directly to my ankles. I was like, WTF?
But by then, I was committed to the task at hand and couldn't do anything about it. Luckily, the men's room was deserted, so I stood there finishing my business looking ridiculous all by myself. When I pulled my pants up I realized that I still had a pocket full of chips that I'd forgotten about. That's what gave gravity the assist, causing my pants to fall to the floor. So after leaving the restroom, I went back to the desk and colored up again for another fifty bucks. Woot!
I still had 20 minutes worth of break left, so I headed over to Starbucks and got a big hazelnut frappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, thinking that I could use a jolt--it looked like it was gonna be a long day.
But as soon as I got back to the poker room, they told me I could go home. I was thinking that another down at the no-limit game would be nice, but they were down to four players by then, and it was gonna break soon. And I'd already made almost as much in four hours as I'd made in the previous two days combined, so I was cool with taking off.
I stopped at Jack in the Box on the way home and got me a croissant sandie to nibble on, but as soon as I got home, I took a shower and went back to bed for several hours. It felt like I needed the sleep, and I took full advantage.
I woke up to the phone ringing, as usual, but this time it was my sister Sherry. She was down in Key West with her husband and called to tell me that she was sitting in the Hog's Breath Saloon drinking Mt. Gay pina coladas and toasting me and our departed brother-in-law David. (About five years ago, the three of us sat there getting absolutely smashed on pina coladas all day before going to Nancy's wedding later that afternoon across the island at the Truman Annex). So she wanted to call and let me know she was thinking about me, and it was nice because it brought back a flood of fun memories.
Anyhow, that's all the news from this end. I'm on-call tomorrow, which means that it's about a 99% certainty that I'll have the day off. I've got no plans, so that means that I'll probably do some more writing.
Mikey
I hope you all had a wonderful Labor Day weekend, and took a moment to remember those of us who had to 'labor' all weekend.
I'm pretty sure that I've got the day off tomorrow, so I'm sitting down with a tot of rum and a glass of Coke, getting ready to enjoy the Tennessee/UCLA game. But I thought that I could go ahead and throw something up on the ol' website to satisfy all you re-clickers out there, so I'm multitasking.
My weekend, besides having to work, was rather uneventful. I had Friday off, so I went out on Thursday night, hoping to watch the kickoff of the college football season at the sportsbook. Unfortunately, I was sitting in front of the most obnoxious person in the entire book, and could only take about a half-hour of listening to him before I got up and left.
Realizing that there were plenty of TVs in the poker room, I went over there instead, and put my name on the interest list for the No-Limit cash game. While waiting for that, I sat down at a 4/8 game to try my luck.
Unfortunately, I spent an hour being reminded of just how much I hate limit poker now. After playing no-limit almost exclusively for the past four or five months, putting the brakes on and hoping my big hands held up against five or six callers was just an exercise in futility. I lost about a hundred bucks in that hour, mostly because of everyone calling all the way down to the river and catching their miracle card.
That wasn't much fun.
Luckily, the no-limit game got started, so I was much happier once I got to move to a different, and better, game.
I thought I'd just run over the no-limit game, but there were two factors working against me. First of all, the room I work in has some *excellent* players--it's an extremely tough game to beat, and second of all, I was experiencing a run of dead cards like I'd never before seen in my entire poker-playing life.
I bought in to the game for $200, but at one point, I played over three hours straight without ever seeing a flop. Yep, I folded every hand for at least 20 orbits around the table. How do I know this? Because without playing a single hand, in three hours I was down $60 in blinds (it was a $1/$2 no-limit game). It cost me three bucks in blinds every ten hands, so I went 200+ hands straight without ever seeing a flop. Talk about a shiatty run of cards.
Adding insult to injury, when I eventually won my first pot, it was a split one. But since I had no place to be the next morning, I was content to hang out and have a cocktail or two and laugh it up with a few of the other players for several hours. The guy who was on the short side (the $30,000 winner) of the bad-bead jackpot was sitting next to me, and we were having a great time there at the table. He got me started drinking that Tuaca stuff, which I thought was some sort of Mexican liqueur, but I soon found out was Italian brandy. It was damn good, though, and I think it would make a fine companion to a good cigar (much easier to drink than Grand Marnier).
Anyhow, as much fun as I was having playing at the poker table, I finally called it a night around 2:00 am. I played fairly tight, but after nine hours, I'd nursed my $260 as far as I could take it. And in the final tally, I went the entire nine hours getting nothing better than two pair. That's right--I never once got three of a kind or made a straight. One hand I was lucky enough to be holding the Ace of Clubs and it was checked all the way to the river when four clubs were on the board, so I got a small pot on that flush, but otherwise, I didn't make a hand all night long. Completely blowing the law of averages, I only got six pocket pairs the entire night, the highest of which were Jacks, and they went into the muck after the flop when an Ace and King showed up and two people ahead of me couldn't wait to get money into the pot.
I swear, I've never been so card dead--it was awful. Before I headed home, I stopped to get a Fatburger and some onion rings, which was about the high point of the night, as not only did I just donate to the poker economy, but I'd also made a decent bet on the Oregon State Beavers, who not only didn't cover the three points they were laying against Stanford, but they lost the game outright!
Driving home, I figured that Thursday was an aberration, and that the cards eventually had to come my way. But I wasn't going to risk it, and I spent Friday doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and reading. I didn't even go out that night except to fetch some groceries.
Of course, I went to bed early, figuring that I'd get called in to work early, too. It was a holiday weekend, and even though I was scheduled to work at 6:00 am on Saturday morning, I was fairly certain that there would be a little carry-over from Friday night and my phone would be ringing.
I was right, and had to go in at 4:00 am. But my bad luck continued, as just after I got to work, the overnight games started breaking up and I ended up dealing a short-handed game that wasn't very juicy anyways.
And looking at the daily schedule, I knew I was in for a crummy day money-wise. The bosses had completely overstaffed for the weekend, and there were 10 dealers slated to come in before 11:00 am.
I managed to make a few bucks before my game broke, but then I sat on my ass doing nothing until 8:00 am when the next dealer came in. By then, a few of the old guys came in, but their game was short-handed. Since there were a couple more dealers coming in at 9:00, meaning that we'd have more dealers than players, I took myself out of the rotation and volunteered to prop the game with my own bankroll.
Unfortunately, my card-deadness continued, and I played for an hour before giving up in disgust, burning through $80 without winning a single pot. Again, I got a few pairs, but nothing better than two pair the whole time. I finally clocked out and went home, figuring that the poker gods had forsaken me this week.
Since I have a whole new stack of books from Amazon sitting on my desk, and it was opening weekend for college football, well, the rest of my day was pretty much taken care of. But when I got home, I walked in the front door and immediately got that Han Solo what-an-interesting-smell-you've-discovered look on my face. The house just reeked!
I came upstairs to the loft and discovered the reason for the stench--there were piles of dog shit everywhere on the carpet!
Now, that caught me completely off-guard because the dogs are extremely well trained. But my roommate had told me when I first moved in that Charlie, the mama-dog, would get upset with him when he left and go upstairs and pee in the loft when he didn't come home at night. So we blocked the stairs. But then once I moved in, having somebody around kind of set her at ease, and she was cool, and after a few weeks, the dogs were free to come up here whenever they wanted. Nobody treated the floor like a litter box.
Anyhow, since it was a holiday weekend, my roommate and his girlfriend took off for California to spend the weekend on the boat. And since I was working all weekend, there was nobody here at the house for hours and hours on end. So Charlie got mad at us and shit all over the floor!
So I spent about a half hour or so picking up the dog turds (luckily they weren't runny and too nasty) and doing what I could to clean the carpet. And when I left the next day, I set a couple of cocktail chairs at the top of the stairs blocking access to the loft.
Sunday was another lame, slow, and overstaffed day at work, but I refused to prop the game that day. I wasn't about to throw any more money down the poker hole. Again, it was so slow that I got sent home after just three hours, and I was kinda curious as to what condition I'd find the house in.
Well, the dogs were still pissed off--when I got home, one of the cocktail chairs was halfway down the stairs on the landing, and there was a nice chunk of drywall taken out of the wall. One of the dogs hand managed to defeat the roadblock, and I found two fresh puddles of piss on the carpet. Again, the spray bottle and towels made an appearance, and I blocked both the top and the bottom of the stairs, basically putting the dogs in time-out, refusing to play with them like I normally do when I get home. They knew they were in trouble after that.
There was another T2V poker tourney that night, and I really didn't wanna play, but I saw that one of my favorite lurkers, Krista, had signed up, so I bit the bullet and registered.
It was an extremely lame tournament--it had been accidentally set up as a limit tourney, so it took twice as long to finish, and not only that, but a couple of PokerStars trolls had managed to get into our private tourney by just asking for the password in the chatbox, and one of the players, being friendly, gave it to them. That kinda irritated me, and coupled with the dog piss, the crappy money at work, and the limit format, well, I was in a foul mood. And even though I made it to the cash and got third place, I really didn't have much fun.
After the tournament, I spent some time updating my iPod, which is always kinda interesting, and I managed to get my entire collection of Jimmy Buffett loaded and organized. Well, all except one album. For whatever reason, I cannot find my Beach House On The Moon CD anywhere, so that one is conspicuously absent. But once that was done, I spent the rest of the night listening to Brother Jimmy sing while I drank a rum and coke and read The Sailing Life.
I went to sleep in a much better mood.
It wasn't much of a sleep, however. I was scheduled to go to work at 6:00 am, but I was still half-awake at midnight, dozing through DeNiro and Pacino in Heat on TNT.
While I was lying there in bed around 1:00, I remember thinking Why is my phone lighting up? A split second later the music started playing and that could mean only one thing--work was calling. The voice on the other end asked if I could come in by 3:00 am, and of course I said that I'd be there.
I reset my alarm for 2:00 am, and tried to doze for another hour.
It was impossible, and I finally stopped fighting it, got up, and got ready for work. When I got to the poker room, there were two games going--one no-limit game and one 4/8 game. The 4/8 game looked like it was going to die at any moment, but the no-limit game was full of all my favorite players.
My spot in the rotation put me at the limit game, and I dealt about five hands before the game broke. But my shiatty luck continued, and while I was closing the game down, the asshat with $700 worth of chips sitting directly next to me in the #1 seat said "Well, I guess I'll just stay here and keep you company".
F*cking great.
This jackass had managed to turn his hundred-dollar buy-in into $700 over the course of the previous eight hours, and since nobody else would listen to how great of a player he was, he had a captive audience with me as I had to reset the decks, balance the rack, and close the table. So he droned on about what a great player he was, and since he was sitting next to me instead of across from me, he couldn't see me rolling my eyes. Finally, I locked the lid on the rack and just walked away, and he was still sitting there droning on about what a great player he was. Even the floorman was like What the hell is he doing over there?
I just shrugged...
But the guy wanted everyone to see him sitting there at the 4/8 table with a couple of racks of chips in front of him, but by then, the room was empty except for the no-limit game. But he desperately wanted the attention. He even started saying that he wanted a seat at the no-limit game because he would cut it up and bust the table.
I would've loved to have seen that, because there was one guy there who is about the best no-limit player I know, and it would've been a bloodbath.
At the bottom of the hour, I pushed in to the no-limit game and a couple of my better players asked me what was up with the guy. I told them what he had said, and one guy immediatgely offered to go and play him heads up. At that point, Mr $700 declined and cashed out and left, shrinking from the challenge. Asshat.
Once I got into the no-limit game, the floorman sent the other dealers home and I was locked down for the next three hours. I certainly didn't mind because it was one of those table you dream about--nice crowd, no obnoxious drunks, fun players, all good tippers. It truly didn't seem like work as I was laughing it up the whole time and getting a cut of each pot. It had a home game vibe and everyone was having a good time.
At some point, I reached that magical point where the shirt pocket wouldn't hold any more chips, and they were spilling out whenever I'd lean over the table to rake in the bets. I managed to rathole a bunch between hands, and when the next dealer came in at 7:00 am, I was good and ready for a break. The first stop was at the desk, and when I emptied my shirt pocket, I found that I'd made more than $200. As soon as I cashed that, I ran to the bathroom for the first time in over four hours. As soon as I unzipped, my pants went directly to my ankles. I was like, WTF?
But by then, I was committed to the task at hand and couldn't do anything about it. Luckily, the men's room was deserted, so I stood there finishing my business looking ridiculous all by myself. When I pulled my pants up I realized that I still had a pocket full of chips that I'd forgotten about. That's what gave gravity the assist, causing my pants to fall to the floor. So after leaving the restroom, I went back to the desk and colored up again for another fifty bucks. Woot!
I still had 20 minutes worth of break left, so I headed over to Starbucks and got a big hazelnut frappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, thinking that I could use a jolt--it looked like it was gonna be a long day.
But as soon as I got back to the poker room, they told me I could go home. I was thinking that another down at the no-limit game would be nice, but they were down to four players by then, and it was gonna break soon. And I'd already made almost as much in four hours as I'd made in the previous two days combined, so I was cool with taking off.
I stopped at Jack in the Box on the way home and got me a croissant sandie to nibble on, but as soon as I got home, I took a shower and went back to bed for several hours. It felt like I needed the sleep, and I took full advantage.
I woke up to the phone ringing, as usual, but this time it was my sister Sherry. She was down in Key West with her husband and called to tell me that she was sitting in the Hog's Breath Saloon drinking Mt. Gay pina coladas and toasting me and our departed brother-in-law David. (About five years ago, the three of us sat there getting absolutely smashed on pina coladas all day before going to Nancy's wedding later that afternoon across the island at the Truman Annex). So she wanted to call and let me know she was thinking about me, and it was nice because it brought back a flood of fun memories.
Anyhow, that's all the news from this end. I'm on-call tomorrow, which means that it's about a 99% certainty that I'll have the day off. I've got no plans, so that means that I'll probably do some more writing.
Mikey
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Labor Day Weekend
I'm getting hardly any traffic on the weekends, and holiday weekends are especially slow. So I'm gonna take a little vacation from writing for a few days. I have to work all weekend anyways.
Y'all have a good one!
Catch up to ya on Monday. Maybe Tuesday.
Mikey
Y'all have a good one!
Catch up to ya on Monday. Maybe Tuesday.
Mikey
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Frustrated Incorporated
Thus far, my day off has been quite uneventful, although I now have solid evidence that my new egg-crate mattress pad helps me to sleep. Not only did I get a good solid six hours of sleep last night, but after my morning update, well, I got a few more.
Once I got up and was kicking around the house, I was just about to get in the shower and head over to the grocery store when my favorite gal Beth called, causing me to drop everything and dive for the phone.
Anyhow, we talked for a bit, but then tried to jive our schedules together, and between now and next weekend, there is just no window of opportunity to spend time together. Ugh! Weekends are out right now because of my work schedule and she's got her daughter, and it's a bit too soon to introduce me into that mix. She goes in to work at 6 pm most weeknights, and I work every day until 2 (sometimes later, when it's busy). And even if we tried to squeeze a lunch date in there, she has to go get the young-un from school at three every day.
Worse yet, this coming week is the very first time I've been scheduled for a full forty hours since I transferred to the poker room, and my only two on-call days, where I could conceivably make plans, well, those are the two days that Beth is working at the spa! Talk about irritating coincidences...
So, after kicking around our calendars for about five minutes, she suggested that we just wait until the week after next. I'm cool with that--there's just no way to spend any time together outside of work for the next ten days--but damn, I don't wanna wait that long to see her! On the bright side, I've got another manicure appointment with her a week from tomorrow, and we're hoping that I'm her last client of the day. Not that we're making any plans for after her workday--she has to stick around in case somebody shows up at the last minute, which they always seem to do on Fridays--but at least then we can make some plans for the following week while I'm there.
Just once, I'd like this shiat to be easy. The gals I'm ambivalent about? They always seem to be available. The one girl I want to see the most? We can't even carve out two hours of common free time over the next ten days.
Oh well. I guess that means that it'll be that much sweeter once it finally happens...
Mikey
Once I got up and was kicking around the house, I was just about to get in the shower and head over to the grocery store when my favorite gal Beth called, causing me to drop everything and dive for the phone.
Anyhow, we talked for a bit, but then tried to jive our schedules together, and between now and next weekend, there is just no window of opportunity to spend time together. Ugh! Weekends are out right now because of my work schedule and she's got her daughter, and it's a bit too soon to introduce me into that mix. She goes in to work at 6 pm most weeknights, and I work every day until 2 (sometimes later, when it's busy). And even if we tried to squeeze a lunch date in there, she has to go get the young-un from school at three every day.
Worse yet, this coming week is the very first time I've been scheduled for a full forty hours since I transferred to the poker room, and my only two on-call days, where I could conceivably make plans, well, those are the two days that Beth is working at the spa! Talk about irritating coincidences...
So, after kicking around our calendars for about five minutes, she suggested that we just wait until the week after next. I'm cool with that--there's just no way to spend any time together outside of work for the next ten days--but damn, I don't wanna wait that long to see her! On the bright side, I've got another manicure appointment with her a week from tomorrow, and we're hoping that I'm her last client of the day. Not that we're making any plans for after her workday--she has to stick around in case somebody shows up at the last minute, which they always seem to do on Fridays--but at least then we can make some plans for the following week while I'm there.
Just once, I'd like this shiat to be easy. The gals I'm ambivalent about? They always seem to be available. The one girl I want to see the most? We can't even carve out two hours of common free time over the next ten days.
Oh well. I guess that means that it'll be that much sweeter once it finally happens...
Mikey
Knocking Out A Few More Emails
Since so many people have asked, and it'll save me from sending the same email over and over again, these are the sunglasses that I got. Instead of the tortoise-shell frames featured in the pic, I went with plain black, and I also got mine with the 'Spring Creek Copper' lenses. They fit my head perfectly, and they look better than I thought they would. I must've gone through hundreds of different online sites for prescription sunglasses, but luckily I stumbled onto this one. It's bookmarked of course, and I'm actually thinking of getting a second pair, just because this pair exceeded my expectations and I know my history with expensive sunglasses.
And after yesterday's deliver of books, clothes, and sunglasses, I think I'm down to waiting for just one more box from Amazon to be delivered early next week, and then all of my goodies will have arrived. Now that I've got all these new books, I wish I were going on a cruise next week so that I could lay around on deck in a chaise lounge reading them while sipping on umbrella drinks and watching the ocean roll by. But, no such luck--I'll be working instead.
But don't cry for me, Argentina, because things aren't that bad. The money has been great lately, and I actually enjoy what I do. And just when I was beginning to let the doubts creep in about my newest favorite lady since I hadn't heard from her in a couple of days, well, sometime in the middle of the night last night my phone was going off. She sent me a text message saying that she hadn't forgotten about me but that she'd been swamped the past two days. That was an unexpected bonus which made my day. So I'll give her a call in a few hours and see if we can't schedule some 'together time' at some point over the next few days.
Other than that, there's not much else going on around here.
Mikey
And after yesterday's deliver of books, clothes, and sunglasses, I think I'm down to waiting for just one more box from Amazon to be delivered early next week, and then all of my goodies will have arrived. Now that I've got all these new books, I wish I were going on a cruise next week so that I could lay around on deck in a chaise lounge reading them while sipping on umbrella drinks and watching the ocean roll by. But, no such luck--I'll be working instead.
But don't cry for me, Argentina, because things aren't that bad. The money has been great lately, and I actually enjoy what I do. And just when I was beginning to let the doubts creep in about my newest favorite lady since I hadn't heard from her in a couple of days, well, sometime in the middle of the night last night my phone was going off. She sent me a text message saying that she hadn't forgotten about me but that she'd been swamped the past two days. That was an unexpected bonus which made my day. So I'll give her a call in a few hours and see if we can't schedule some 'together time' at some point over the next few days.
Other than that, there's not much else going on around here.
Mikey
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Well, That Was A Quick Famine...
I thought that the deadness at work would last longer than a week, but apparently I was wrong. Not only did I get that dreaded middle-of-the-night phone call from the poker room again this morning, but I also had to stay and work overtime today, too.
What truly sucked is that I was wide awake again until around 2:30 or so this morning, got maybe an hour's worth of sleep, and then the call came -- Get here as soon as you can!
I thought it would be a juicy no-limit game, but instead, it was five drunks playing 4/8. Ugh. And after 45 minutes or so, it got down to three-handed. The three remaining guys made it about another half-hour before the game broke down completely.
Luckily I'd made about $50 off of those guys because then I sat dead doing nothing for the next three hours.
When the 8:00 am dealer got there, we still didn't have enough of the old guys in attendance to get a game started, and the ones that were there were telling me to hop in the game on my break and help 'em get the game going. Finally around 9:00 am, there were four of them sitting around the table, myself, and the other dealer. The card room manager was in working the floor/cashier duties today, and of course she *always* wants to get a game going, so I volunteered to play on the clock. Yep, the house was payin' me my whopping hourly wage, but I had to use my own bankroll to play. Not a bad deal--getting paid to play poker--but the only downside is that we're not allowed to check-raise the other players when we're on the clock. (The object is to help the game get going, not beat the hell out of them and make them go broke).
So I ditched my work shirt, stripping down to my black t-shirt, and bought in for $60. The funny thing is, all the old guys always hassle me, telling me to get in their game all the time, but I *rarely* play limit poker anymore. And I've dealt to them often enough to know how to play 'em. I know when they've got the goods and I know when they're on a draw.
Not that I'm a poker-master, but honestly, I felt a little bit like Mike McD sitting in on the Judge's game--it was that easy. And in the half-hour I was sitting in, I made another fifty bucks, and I wasn't even playing aggressively. By then, the table had filled up, so the rule is that the 'prop' players have to get up once the game gets ten players, so as to leave the 'Elijah seat' open for any player that happens to come by the poker room. So I cashed out, put my shirt back on, and a few minutes later, I was back in the box dealing to 'em instead of playing with them.
I was hope hope hoping that I'd be able to get out at eleven, when the fourth dealer came in, but no, it was not to be. The third dealer came in at ten, and since we only had the one game going, I got sent on a double break--my boss said I was likely to go home at eleven, but she had to keep me around to see how many people signed up for the daily tournament.
So I headed back to the dining room, and then got a seat in the corner of the 'quiet room' for an hour. I had brought the ear-buds for my cellphone with me, so I popped those in and used my phone as an iPod--I put a random playlist on the memory card last week--and sat in one of the massage chairs and promptly fell asleep for about 45 minutes.
I woke up, not quite refreshed, and stumbled back across the casino to the card room. I had my fingers crossed that I'd get sent home, but nope, not only did we have enough players for a tournament, but we also had eight more players on the waiting list for the cash games. Guess who opened a new table as soon as he got back from break... Yep. That'd be me. That's when the boss came by and gave me the bad news--not only was I not going home early, but I'd likely have to stay a couple hours overtime.
Of course, I'd rather work than not work, so I didn't complain, but damn was I tired. I think it was worse because it was so unexpected. I showed up at work this morning thinking it would be a cake-walk day with bad money and an early exit. But I was wrong. I made great money, plus another fifty as a prop player, and picked up some overtime.
When I finally got cut loose at 2 pm, I was one tuckered out little trooper. I was so beat. And to make matters worse, in my haste to get to the casino in a hurry earlier in the morning, I'd forgotten to bring my sunglasses, so not only was I fatigued beyond normal, I couldn't see shiat when I was driving--it was so frickin' bright that I had to squint all the way home. And seriously, I almost rear-ended two different people in the span of about five minutes.
I didn't come straight home though--being a more responsible grown-up type nowadays, I stopped at the bank to deposit most of my cash, and I also picked up a cold drink to sip on. When I finally got back to the house, there were three boxes waiting for me on the porch.
I picked them all up and came upstairs to my room. Armed with a box-cutter, I set about opening my goodies. I got a couple of sailing books (Yay!), my new Rams fleece pullover and ASU t-shirt, and finally, my prescription sunglasses had also arrived. I was really apprehensive about the sunglasses--I took a huge risk ordering them online, but damn, I was really impressed. They fit perfectly, they look great, and they are by far the best pair of sunglasses I've ever owned. (and I've paid big $$$ in the past for designer glasses by Nike and Claiborne that weren't nearly as well made). Talk about a pleasant surprise! If I hadn't been so tired, I would've gone out driving around just to try them out. I got the bronze polarized lenses in them, and coupled with my prescription, everything looks amazingly clear when I wear them. Experience has taught me that the best sunglasses are the ones designed for snow-skiers or fishermen, and that's what I got--glasses designed specifically for sportsmen--so not only are the lenses top-quality, but the frames feel damn near bulletproof.
So between my toys arriving and the big day at the office, it's been a pretty damn good day so far.
I managed to get a cat-nap for a couple of hours, but between the phone ringing and the dogs seeking attention, a real catch-up nap was out of the question. I'm on-call the next two days, but word is that I'll very likely be working on Friday. I also have to work the whole weekend, and I'm actually scheduled for a full 40 hours next week plus the other two days I'm on-call--I don't have one day I can call my own.
It appears that the feast may have begun again...
Mikey
What truly sucked is that I was wide awake again until around 2:30 or so this morning, got maybe an hour's worth of sleep, and then the call came -- Get here as soon as you can!
I thought it would be a juicy no-limit game, but instead, it was five drunks playing 4/8. Ugh. And after 45 minutes or so, it got down to three-handed. The three remaining guys made it about another half-hour before the game broke down completely.
Luckily I'd made about $50 off of those guys because then I sat dead doing nothing for the next three hours.
When the 8:00 am dealer got there, we still didn't have enough of the old guys in attendance to get a game started, and the ones that were there were telling me to hop in the game on my break and help 'em get the game going. Finally around 9:00 am, there were four of them sitting around the table, myself, and the other dealer. The card room manager was in working the floor/cashier duties today, and of course she *always* wants to get a game going, so I volunteered to play on the clock. Yep, the house was payin' me my whopping hourly wage, but I had to use my own bankroll to play. Not a bad deal--getting paid to play poker--but the only downside is that we're not allowed to check-raise the other players when we're on the clock. (The object is to help the game get going, not beat the hell out of them and make them go broke).
So I ditched my work shirt, stripping down to my black t-shirt, and bought in for $60. The funny thing is, all the old guys always hassle me, telling me to get in their game all the time, but I *rarely* play limit poker anymore. And I've dealt to them often enough to know how to play 'em. I know when they've got the goods and I know when they're on a draw.
Not that I'm a poker-master, but honestly, I felt a little bit like Mike McD sitting in on the Judge's game--it was that easy. And in the half-hour I was sitting in, I made another fifty bucks, and I wasn't even playing aggressively. By then, the table had filled up, so the rule is that the 'prop' players have to get up once the game gets ten players, so as to leave the 'Elijah seat' open for any player that happens to come by the poker room. So I cashed out, put my shirt back on, and a few minutes later, I was back in the box dealing to 'em instead of playing with them.
I was hope hope hoping that I'd be able to get out at eleven, when the fourth dealer came in, but no, it was not to be. The third dealer came in at ten, and since we only had the one game going, I got sent on a double break--my boss said I was likely to go home at eleven, but she had to keep me around to see how many people signed up for the daily tournament.
So I headed back to the dining room, and then got a seat in the corner of the 'quiet room' for an hour. I had brought the ear-buds for my cellphone with me, so I popped those in and used my phone as an iPod--I put a random playlist on the memory card last week--and sat in one of the massage chairs and promptly fell asleep for about 45 minutes.
I woke up, not quite refreshed, and stumbled back across the casino to the card room. I had my fingers crossed that I'd get sent home, but nope, not only did we have enough players for a tournament, but we also had eight more players on the waiting list for the cash games. Guess who opened a new table as soon as he got back from break... Yep. That'd be me. That's when the boss came by and gave me the bad news--not only was I not going home early, but I'd likely have to stay a couple hours overtime.
Of course, I'd rather work than not work, so I didn't complain, but damn was I tired. I think it was worse because it was so unexpected. I showed up at work this morning thinking it would be a cake-walk day with bad money and an early exit. But I was wrong. I made great money, plus another fifty as a prop player, and picked up some overtime.
When I finally got cut loose at 2 pm, I was one tuckered out little trooper. I was so beat. And to make matters worse, in my haste to get to the casino in a hurry earlier in the morning, I'd forgotten to bring my sunglasses, so not only was I fatigued beyond normal, I couldn't see shiat when I was driving--it was so frickin' bright that I had to squint all the way home. And seriously, I almost rear-ended two different people in the span of about five minutes.
I didn't come straight home though--being a more responsible grown-up type nowadays, I stopped at the bank to deposit most of my cash, and I also picked up a cold drink to sip on. When I finally got back to the house, there were three boxes waiting for me on the porch.
I picked them all up and came upstairs to my room. Armed with a box-cutter, I set about opening my goodies. I got a couple of sailing books (Yay!), my new Rams fleece pullover and ASU t-shirt, and finally, my prescription sunglasses had also arrived. I was really apprehensive about the sunglasses--I took a huge risk ordering them online, but damn, I was really impressed. They fit perfectly, they look great, and they are by far the best pair of sunglasses I've ever owned. (and I've paid big $$$ in the past for designer glasses by Nike and Claiborne that weren't nearly as well made). Talk about a pleasant surprise! If I hadn't been so tired, I would've gone out driving around just to try them out. I got the bronze polarized lenses in them, and coupled with my prescription, everything looks amazingly clear when I wear them. Experience has taught me that the best sunglasses are the ones designed for snow-skiers or fishermen, and that's what I got--glasses designed specifically for sportsmen--so not only are the lenses top-quality, but the frames feel damn near bulletproof.
So between my toys arriving and the big day at the office, it's been a pretty damn good day so far.
I managed to get a cat-nap for a couple of hours, but between the phone ringing and the dogs seeking attention, a real catch-up nap was out of the question. I'm on-call the next two days, but word is that I'll very likely be working on Friday. I also have to work the whole weekend, and I'm actually scheduled for a full 40 hours next week plus the other two days I'm on-call--I don't have one day I can call my own.
It appears that the feast may have begun again...
Mikey
Good Things
I managed to get a lot done today, although it was nice to sleep in past 10:00 am. Even then, I still lingered over a pot of coffee and the internet for an hour or two.
Eventually, I felt like I shouldn't be so slothful, and I got busy doing little projects here around the house. I dug through a couple of storage boxes, throwing some stuff away, organizing other stuff, and gathered up a few of my favorite framed photos to hang on the wall.
I also got my closet about halfway cleaned up. Since I moved in, it's basically just been a catch-all for unused clothes, boxes, and other random junk. Now all the 'winter' clothes are at the far end, the occasional stuff is in the middle, and the more common stuff is all hung up at the other end, while all of my t-shirts have been folded and put in drawers.
I also laundered my sheets and pillowcases today--the thought of dog hair on my bed makes my skin crawl--and the critters have jumped up on my bed twice this past week. Besides, I needed to take the sheets off anyways because I had to put on my new egg-crate pad. I'm laying on it right now as I type this, and it's pretty damn comfy. I'm hoping that I sleep better tonight.
Not that I did nothing but work today, there was plenty of goofing off involved with my day off. I was feeling rather smug and superior after my online poker victories, so I decided to play in a couple of more expensive tournaments this afternoon. Of course, the poker gods decided to smite me down with furious anger, as my flopped top-set of nines got an all-in raise from some poor schmuck who had the bad luck to be holding pocket Aces at the time. So I gave him the action he was begging for, and his third Ace came on the river, knocking me out in sixth place.
Doh!
I immediately signed up for another tourney, because I felt like I was still playing very well. I was doing ok, holding my own, but observed one other player bullying the table, going all-in way too often. On my big blind, he just limped in, and I had Queen-Jack suited, so I just checked. I got a Jack and a Queen on the flop, and my opponent bet. I raised, he just called. The turn brought another Jack, giving me Jacks full of Queens. My opponent checked, I bet, and he went all-in. Of course I called--there was only one hand that could possibly beat me, and he certainly hadn't played like somebody who would limp in with pocket Queens. But that's what he had, and like Smokey said to Deebo, I got knocked the f*ck out!
And sticking with pertinent movie quotes, it's like Cheech said to Costner in Tin Cup -- You humble now, Holmes...
So my previous rush that had built my little PokerStars stake up to over a hundred bucks in two days is now over, and my account has a whopping twenty cents left in it. I guess it's about time to get back to my bread-and-butter--live tournaments down on the Strip--where every day is like Friday at the Elks Lodge. All-you-can-eat fish!
After getting my ass handed to me at the electronic poker tables and my chores were done, well, once I decided to quit working on them, I was feeling pretty hungry. I hadn't eaten anything but a handful of peanuts and a pot of coffee in over 24 hours, so I decided to go get some food. Again, because of not being home for most of the past three weeks, I have no groceries in the house, and I still haven't gone shopping. I was still feeling too lazy to do that, plus I didn't want to go grocery shopping when I was hungry, else I'd come home with a bunch of stuff I probably shouldn't be eating anyways.
However, I decided to treat myself to something tasty and I was craving some good border-style Mexican food, so I headed for Roberto's Taco Shop for one of their monster-sized carne asada burritos. (Hey, it's got a bunch of veggies in it...).
While I was waiting for my burrito to be made, I moseyed over to the 'salsa bar' and helped myself to a baggie full of pickled carrots. For those of you from places where it snows that aren't familiar with the awesome goodness that is Mexican-style pickled carrots, you are truly missing out on a culinary treat.
I don't know how they're made, but it's basically raw jalapeños, onions, and carrots mixed together in what I guess is vinegar, cilantro, and some other spices, then left to marinate together for some undetermined amount of time, until everything tastes like jalapeño. The carrots are still fresh--they still snap like fresh veggies should, but holy shiat do they taste so much better than regular carrots. I could eat them all day long, but before I filled up on them, my burrito was ready.
Again, those of you from cold places that aren't privy to the tasty goodness of the loosely confederated chain of Filiberto's, Alberto's, Roberto's, Humberto's, and Delberto's taco shops that populate the American southwest, you don't know what you are missing. I discovered them more than 20 years ago back in San Diego, and as soon as I escaped the northern latitudes of Idaho and Alaska, and moved down to Phoenix in 1992, it was my first meal after I got settled into my first apartment.
Yeah, they have great tacos and such, but the burritos are the main attraction. And my favorite is the carne asada variety. Each one is huge--easily weighing about a full pound, stuffed to the gills with grilled marinated steak, pico de gallo, and guacamole. It's not something you can eat every day, but like White Castles, once you get the craving, nothing else will satisfy you. And you can't get a burrito without getting a side of rolled tacos with guacamole, either. With all that, and the pickled carrots, it's a damn good meal. And like the chicken fried steak at the Peppermill, it's not one you're gonna finish, but you'll have a helluva good time trying.
Once I waved the white paper napkin of surrender, I made my way back to the homestead in time for the nightly coverage of the WSOP on ESPN. But waiting for me on the entry table when I got home were a few nice surprises. Actually, I'm expecting several packages this week, and the first one of course was the least-anticipated one--my black work pants. Yay. But there was also a letter for me from one of my old creditors which I'd paid off several months ago. Thinking they wanted to sell me something, I almost threw it away without opening it.
Instead, I brought it upstairs and set it on my desk and forgot about it for a few hours. But I finally opened it up awhile later and was pleasantly surprised to see a check made out to me for $55. Apparently, I'd overpaid when I retired my debt.
That kinda made my day.
Anyhow, that was about the extent of my evening. It's back to work tomorrow morning for several hours of sitting on my ass waiting for a game to start, then a couple of hours of dealing a boring limit game where the pot rarely gets over $20.
Hopefully I can make a little scratch somehow.
Mikey
Eventually, I felt like I shouldn't be so slothful, and I got busy doing little projects here around the house. I dug through a couple of storage boxes, throwing some stuff away, organizing other stuff, and gathered up a few of my favorite framed photos to hang on the wall.
I also got my closet about halfway cleaned up. Since I moved in, it's basically just been a catch-all for unused clothes, boxes, and other random junk. Now all the 'winter' clothes are at the far end, the occasional stuff is in the middle, and the more common stuff is all hung up at the other end, while all of my t-shirts have been folded and put in drawers.
I also laundered my sheets and pillowcases today--the thought of dog hair on my bed makes my skin crawl--and the critters have jumped up on my bed twice this past week. Besides, I needed to take the sheets off anyways because I had to put on my new egg-crate pad. I'm laying on it right now as I type this, and it's pretty damn comfy. I'm hoping that I sleep better tonight.
Not that I did nothing but work today, there was plenty of goofing off involved with my day off. I was feeling rather smug and superior after my online poker victories, so I decided to play in a couple of more expensive tournaments this afternoon. Of course, the poker gods decided to smite me down with furious anger, as my flopped top-set of nines got an all-in raise from some poor schmuck who had the bad luck to be holding pocket Aces at the time. So I gave him the action he was begging for, and his third Ace came on the river, knocking me out in sixth place.
Doh!
I immediately signed up for another tourney, because I felt like I was still playing very well. I was doing ok, holding my own, but observed one other player bullying the table, going all-in way too often. On my big blind, he just limped in, and I had Queen-Jack suited, so I just checked. I got a Jack and a Queen on the flop, and my opponent bet. I raised, he just called. The turn brought another Jack, giving me Jacks full of Queens. My opponent checked, I bet, and he went all-in. Of course I called--there was only one hand that could possibly beat me, and he certainly hadn't played like somebody who would limp in with pocket Queens. But that's what he had, and like Smokey said to Deebo, I got knocked the f*ck out!
And sticking with pertinent movie quotes, it's like Cheech said to Costner in Tin Cup -- You humble now, Holmes...
So my previous rush that had built my little PokerStars stake up to over a hundred bucks in two days is now over, and my account has a whopping twenty cents left in it. I guess it's about time to get back to my bread-and-butter--live tournaments down on the Strip--where every day is like Friday at the Elks Lodge. All-you-can-eat fish!
After getting my ass handed to me at the electronic poker tables and my chores were done, well, once I decided to quit working on them, I was feeling pretty hungry. I hadn't eaten anything but a handful of peanuts and a pot of coffee in over 24 hours, so I decided to go get some food. Again, because of not being home for most of the past three weeks, I have no groceries in the house, and I still haven't gone shopping. I was still feeling too lazy to do that, plus I didn't want to go grocery shopping when I was hungry, else I'd come home with a bunch of stuff I probably shouldn't be eating anyways.
However, I decided to treat myself to something tasty and I was craving some good border-style Mexican food, so I headed for Roberto's Taco Shop for one of their monster-sized carne asada burritos. (Hey, it's got a bunch of veggies in it...).
While I was waiting for my burrito to be made, I moseyed over to the 'salsa bar' and helped myself to a baggie full of pickled carrots. For those of you from places where it snows that aren't familiar with the awesome goodness that is Mexican-style pickled carrots, you are truly missing out on a culinary treat.
I don't know how they're made, but it's basically raw jalapeños, onions, and carrots mixed together in what I guess is vinegar, cilantro, and some other spices, then left to marinate together for some undetermined amount of time, until everything tastes like jalapeño. The carrots are still fresh--they still snap like fresh veggies should, but holy shiat do they taste so much better than regular carrots. I could eat them all day long, but before I filled up on them, my burrito was ready.
Again, those of you from cold places that aren't privy to the tasty goodness of the loosely confederated chain of Filiberto's, Alberto's, Roberto's, Humberto's, and Delberto's taco shops that populate the American southwest, you don't know what you are missing. I discovered them more than 20 years ago back in San Diego, and as soon as I escaped the northern latitudes of Idaho and Alaska, and moved down to Phoenix in 1992, it was my first meal after I got settled into my first apartment.
Yeah, they have great tacos and such, but the burritos are the main attraction. And my favorite is the carne asada variety. Each one is huge--easily weighing about a full pound, stuffed to the gills with grilled marinated steak, pico de gallo, and guacamole. It's not something you can eat every day, but like White Castles, once you get the craving, nothing else will satisfy you. And you can't get a burrito without getting a side of rolled tacos with guacamole, either. With all that, and the pickled carrots, it's a damn good meal. And like the chicken fried steak at the Peppermill, it's not one you're gonna finish, but you'll have a helluva good time trying.
Once I waved the white paper napkin of surrender, I made my way back to the homestead in time for the nightly coverage of the WSOP on ESPN. But waiting for me on the entry table when I got home were a few nice surprises. Actually, I'm expecting several packages this week, and the first one of course was the least-anticipated one--my black work pants. Yay. But there was also a letter for me from one of my old creditors which I'd paid off several months ago. Thinking they wanted to sell me something, I almost threw it away without opening it.
Instead, I brought it upstairs and set it on my desk and forgot about it for a few hours. But I finally opened it up awhile later and was pleasantly surprised to see a check made out to me for $55. Apparently, I'd overpaid when I retired my debt.
That kinda made my day.
Anyhow, that was about the extent of my evening. It's back to work tomorrow morning for several hours of sitting on my ass waiting for a game to start, then a couple of hours of dealing a boring limit game where the pot rarely gets over $20.
Hopefully I can make a little scratch somehow.
Mikey
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I Am A Very Bad Man
Not for the usual reasons that come to mind, of course, but just because lately I've become allergic to responding to email.I don't know why that is, but I *do* read it all, and I intend to answer it all. But most of the time, I get it when I come home from work, and there's a pile of 'em stacked up. And the thought of answering them all at once is just too much to deal with after a long and mentally challenging day at the office. Plus, I always want to write back to everyone and put some thought into my messages, answering questions, giving each person their due attention, but man, after a couple dozen or so, it just gets to be too much work.
So please don't be angry with me or wish bad things like a painful groinal-area rash upon me because I haven't responded to your emails. I haven't responded to anyone's emails in almost a month. I'm not being uppity or think I'm too good to respond to you all, but some days it's overwhelming. Couple that with the hectic month I've had at work, and some things get put on the back burner and a lot of times I just forget about 'em. Now that things have slowed down (almost too much), I can do a better job of keeping up.
I'd ask for patience, but then that would mean I'd be answering answering all that email, eventually, which I'd like to do. But I can't promise that, so I'll ask for forgiveness instead, because a bunch of them are gonna slip through the cracks.
Mikey
Monday, August 25, 2008
Ghost Town
Today was about as typical a Monday as you can imagine--nothing really went wrong, but then again, nothing went really right, either.
I couldn't sleep at all last night--I was restless, and I kept seeing the glowing digital clock on the cable box every time I turned over, and the mental anguish of thinking Ok, I have to get up in three hours, then two hours, etc. just sucked. I finally fell asleep around 4:00 am, getting about 45 good minutes of sleep. Ugh.
Of course, I reset my alarm for 15 more minutes, but it didn't help much. I grabbed one of those Starbuck's double-shot energy drinks out of the mini-fridge on my way out the door, hoping that it would give me a jump start on my drive to the casino.
As you probably already knew, there was no game going when I got to the poker room--just one lonely floorman watching an empty room. At least he had about ten TVs to keep him company. So we sat down at one of the tables and just chatted for about two hours. We still didn't have a game going at 8:00 when the next dealer came in, so I took off for the dining room and got some breakfast. I came back a half hour later--still no game. A random player or two would walk by, but since there was no game going, they'd leave--nobody wanted to play short-handed.
We finally got a game going around 10:00 am, four hours after I arrived. Oh, and we had two dealers coming in at 11:00, so it didn't look like I'd be making much money this day. I figured I'd get cut out at 11:00, but miraculously, they rounded up enough players to hold a tournament, so I made it all the way to 1:00 in the afternoon, but it was one of my worst money-days ever.
After getting out of work, I drove over to Linens & Things, thinking that my ultra-firm bed is what's been contributing to my lack of sleep lately, and they were having a huge sale. So I picked up a queen-sized egg-crate mattress pad for about twenty bucks. I looked around a bit, thinking of buying some new pillows or maybe a new comforter set, but nothing really blew my skirt up, so the mattress pad was the extent of my shopping.
On the way home, I called up my favorite gal, seeing if we were on for lunch later this week. But I caught her in the chair at the hairdresser, and we talked for a minute or two, but she "had a bunch of goo in her hair" right then, and told me she'd call me back later.
Unfortunately, she had to go to work after that, and I came home and took a nap, so I never heard from her. But I know that Tuesday and Wednesday are out, so I guess I'll talk to her at some point later in the week. It sucks being on completely opposite schedules, plus she has a kid, so that throws up another level of difficulty. We'll see. Hell, I may be completely off-base anyways as far as she's concerned--I've said before, she's so far out of my league that it's almost comical.
Once I got up from my nap, I decided to ride my hot hand at PokerStars, and got into another sit-n-go. Yeah, I won it. Now I've got my stake back again after almost completely cashing out last week. So I decided that instead of a sit-n-go, I'd play in one of those big $20 tourneys with a huge field. The one I got into went about 500 people, and I made it down to 196th place--my Aces got cracked by three Queens, knocking me out a hundred places away from the money.
I waited awhile, and right now, while I'm making this update, I'm playing in another $20 sit-n-go. But I've been card dead for the entire tournament, so I've gotta catch a monster in the next two orbits or I'm going out in sixth place. Ugh.
I'm on-call again tomorrow, but the poker room is so dead that I'm *sure* I'll have the day off. Of course, I've got lots of little projects to do, plus I'm about two weeks behind on answering email, so my day is pretty much covered if I don't get too lazy.
Y'all have a good one.
Mikey
PS. Got second place in that latest SNG for a $54 payoff. Woot!
I couldn't sleep at all last night--I was restless, and I kept seeing the glowing digital clock on the cable box every time I turned over, and the mental anguish of thinking Ok, I have to get up in three hours, then two hours, etc. just sucked. I finally fell asleep around 4:00 am, getting about 45 good minutes of sleep. Ugh.
Of course, I reset my alarm for 15 more minutes, but it didn't help much. I grabbed one of those Starbuck's double-shot energy drinks out of the mini-fridge on my way out the door, hoping that it would give me a jump start on my drive to the casino.
As you probably already knew, there was no game going when I got to the poker room--just one lonely floorman watching an empty room. At least he had about ten TVs to keep him company. So we sat down at one of the tables and just chatted for about two hours. We still didn't have a game going at 8:00 when the next dealer came in, so I took off for the dining room and got some breakfast. I came back a half hour later--still no game. A random player or two would walk by, but since there was no game going, they'd leave--nobody wanted to play short-handed.
We finally got a game going around 10:00 am, four hours after I arrived. Oh, and we had two dealers coming in at 11:00, so it didn't look like I'd be making much money this day. I figured I'd get cut out at 11:00, but miraculously, they rounded up enough players to hold a tournament, so I made it all the way to 1:00 in the afternoon, but it was one of my worst money-days ever.
After getting out of work, I drove over to Linens & Things, thinking that my ultra-firm bed is what's been contributing to my lack of sleep lately, and they were having a huge sale. So I picked up a queen-sized egg-crate mattress pad for about twenty bucks. I looked around a bit, thinking of buying some new pillows or maybe a new comforter set, but nothing really blew my skirt up, so the mattress pad was the extent of my shopping.
On the way home, I called up my favorite gal, seeing if we were on for lunch later this week. But I caught her in the chair at the hairdresser, and we talked for a minute or two, but she "had a bunch of goo in her hair" right then, and told me she'd call me back later.
Unfortunately, she had to go to work after that, and I came home and took a nap, so I never heard from her. But I know that Tuesday and Wednesday are out, so I guess I'll talk to her at some point later in the week. It sucks being on completely opposite schedules, plus she has a kid, so that throws up another level of difficulty. We'll see. Hell, I may be completely off-base anyways as far as she's concerned--I've said before, she's so far out of my league that it's almost comical.
Once I got up from my nap, I decided to ride my hot hand at PokerStars, and got into another sit-n-go. Yeah, I won it. Now I've got my stake back again after almost completely cashing out last week. So I decided that instead of a sit-n-go, I'd play in one of those big $20 tourneys with a huge field. The one I got into went about 500 people, and I made it down to 196th place--my Aces got cracked by three Queens, knocking me out a hundred places away from the money.
I waited awhile, and right now, while I'm making this update, I'm playing in another $20 sit-n-go. But I've been card dead for the entire tournament, so I've gotta catch a monster in the next two orbits or I'm going out in sixth place. Ugh.
I'm on-call again tomorrow, but the poker room is so dead that I'm *sure* I'll have the day off. Of course, I've got lots of little projects to do, plus I'm about two weeks behind on answering email, so my day is pretty much covered if I don't get too lazy.
Y'all have a good one.
Mikey
PS. Got second place in that latest SNG for a $54 payoff. Woot!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday Night, Back At The Ranch
Howdy gang! I hope you've all had a wonderful weekend. Mine was fairly sedate, although I got a lot done. I stayed home on Friday night and took a truckload of junk that I decided I didn't need anymore to the dumpster--there's a strip mall within spitting distance of the house, so I waited until after dark and availed myself to their dumpsters, getting rid of some stuff I've been carrying around for far too long. That was about the highlight of my evening, because I had to work on Saturday.
Luckily it wasn't the early shift, but it was still kind of a grind. I went in at 11:00, and spent the day doing two downs and one up, making good, but not great, money. When a couple of 5:00 pm dealers came in, I got cut loose, but I didn't mind. I felt pretty tired and just wanted a shower and a beer.
However, I got two compliments on my nails while I was at work--I'm tellin' ya, women notice that stuff--so as I was leaving, I sent Beth a text message telling her that I was drummin' up business for her with my purty fangers. She answered me right back, so I called her. We had a nice chat on my drive home, but she was getting ready to go out to dinner with her brother and his wife, so no, my evening was spent at home alone. I did all kinds of fun stuff like laundry and cleaning the bathroom, although I sifted through the listing of local poker tournaments for about a half-hour before giving up.
I made the mistake of sleeping with my bedroom door open, and around 6:00 am I was awakened by two oversized golden retrievers jumping up on my bed with stuffed animals in their mouths, begging me to play with them. I gave them far less attention than they wanted, and shooed them away after just a minute or two. I slept for another two hours before reaching over and turning on the coffeemaker.
Since it was my day off and I had absolutely no commitments, I lounged around in bed reading and drinking coffee for several hours. It was almost a perfect Sunday morning. I finally got up and showered, then got dressed and was suddenly stumped for something to do. Again, I was wanting to go play poker, but I was also kind of hungry, having not eaten anything since leaving work the previous afternoon. The only thing I had in the kitchen was English muffins, yogurt, and orange juice, and that didn't really turn my crank in the middle of the afternoon, so I tried thinking of a good local restaurant where I could have lunch.
I considered Settebello, as it's just down the street, but I just wasn't in the mood for pizza. Then I thought about what's good over at Green Valley Ranch or at The District. I remembered that Lucille's BBQ has been on the to-do list for some time, and as soon as I thought of it, BBQ sounded like a damn fine idea. So I headed off towards The District.
It was about 3:30 in the afternoon when I got there, and when I walked in, I could see that the restaurant was only about half-full. I told the chick at the hostess stand that I'd just need a table for one, and she handed me a pager and said that it would be a few minutes.
I was kind of taken aback, because there were clearly plenty of tables available, and about a dozen servers milling about doing not much.
Really? I need a pager for a single top? Are you guys short-staffed today?
She hemmed and hawed for a moment, unable to admit that she'd just given me the pager out of habit, and finally said Well, there's immediate seating in the bar.
That was fine with me, so I grabbed a corner table and opened the menu that was already there waiting for me. I knew I didn't want any appetizers, because I figured that if it was any kind of respectable 'cue joint, the main course would be more than enough food.
After spending quite a bit of time perusing the appetizer and drink menu, along with the regular menu, I decided that I'd have the two-meat combo, so I went with the baby-back ribs and brisket, and for sides I chose the honey-roasted peanut slaw and BBQ beans. And it came with biscuits that were served with some sort of honey/cinnamon butter. I was impressed early on when I found out that not only was Lucille's a 'Coke' place, but they also served it in Mason Jars, just like grandpa's lemonade.
I sat there nibbling on my biscuits and sipping my Coke, reading my magazine and waiting for the food to show up.
It didn't take long, and I was quite impressed. I got a half-slab of ribs, a large hunk-o-brisket, my two sides, and a wedge of seedless watermelon. They had three different bottles of BBQ sauce on the table, and I think I found the perfect combination by mixing their classic mop sauce with the hot-n-spicy offering.
The beans were very good--swimming in a sweet and smoky sauce, cooked just one minute past al-dente. And the sauce had some sort of piggy goodness floating around in it. I don't know if it was bacon, fatback, hamhocks, or what, but whatever it was, it sure was good and it didn't taste like it was good for you. The cole slaw was interesting--it was a vinegar based dressing, with shredded cabbage, both green and red, plus carrots, and big chunks of sweet peppers. And the whole dish was covered with finely chopped honey-roasted peanuts. It was pretty good--nothing like I expected, and my only gripe was that the cole slaw was more room temperature than cool. Maybe I'm an oddball, but I prefer that stuff to be colder.
The brisket was fork tender--seriously--no knife needed! It had just enough smokiness to it to give it some good flavor, and I was happy to try all the different varieties of sauce with it. But the highlight of the plate was the baby-back ribs. They were really tasty. After one bite I was kicking myself for getting the combo plate. Not that the brisket wasn't good, but the ribs were just so much better. Truly, god had smiled upon that pig, for it brought much happiness. Anthony Bourdain is right when he speaks about the pig being a superior animal to the cow. Not that I don't love me some tasty beef, but damn, a pig, slow smoked over hickory wood and dipped in a sweet sauce, well, that's just a bit of heaven on a plate as far as I'm concerned.
I nibbled and sucked every last bit of meat off of those bones, happily making a mess of my face and hands. The rest of the meal was pretty damn good, but those ribs stood head and shoulders above everything else.
I would go so far as to say it was the best BBQ I've had in Vegas. Granted, I'm not drawing on lots of experience, as my visits to both Salt Lick and Memphis Championship were downright awful, and the BBQ at Ellis Island was the best I'd had since I left Nashville. But Lucille's, well, they're doing it right. Not bad for a smokehouse based in Orange County instead of Kansas City or Possum Holler, Tennessee.
As my meal was winding down, my waitress brought me a plate with a rolled up hot-and-wet towel to clean myself up with. Coupled with the free refills and CNN on the TV, I almost felt like I was flying first-class. And yeah, Lucille's, compared to many of the roadside stands I've visited in the south, is a first class operation. No picnic tables, no flies, no paper plates. And no Wonder Bread with my meat, either. I enjoyed the air conditioning and the blues music being piped in overhead, and if they could just figure out a way to combine a little honeysuckle smell in with the wood smoke, maybe throw in a few lightning bugs around dusk, well, then I'd forget that the authentic BBQ I was grubbin' on was being served in Henderson Nevada.
I couldn't enjoy such a fine southern meal like that without trying dessert. Oh, they had stuff like chocolate cake and Snickers pie on the menu, but if you're gonna go full-on southern style, there are only two desserts to choose from--cobbler or banana pudding. And when my waitress told me that the seasonal fruit was peaches, well, that sealed the deal.
I ordered mine with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, just as god intended. It came out piping hot, full of about three whole peaches worth of fruity goodness inside, garnished with whipped cream and a mint sprig, the ice cream slowly melting into a pool across the sugary crust, seeping down into the fruit below.
It was a fine epilogue to a very fine meal, and as much as I wanted to eat it all, I just couldn't finish the job. I was stuffed.
My meal came to about $38 before tip--not cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but they gotta pay for that air conditioning and indoor plumbing, unlike most of the joints I've seen in my travels. I toked it up to $45 and waddled out of there, pleasantly surprised that I can find great BBQ in my neighborhood, even if I have to pay a premium for it.
I will certainly be going back!
My plan after dinner was to fill up my gas tank and then head down to Planet Hollywood and play in one of their evening tournaments. But just as I was pulling into the gas station, I realized that it was Sunday night--time for another T2V tourney at PokerStars.
I called Dougie to see if it was still on--there had been talk of a cancellation due to most of the buffoons being involved in their fantasy football draft which overlapped the poker tournament. He said it was still on, but likely to be sparsely attended.
So after I filled my tank, I headed home instead of to the Strip, logged on, and saw that I was the third player registered, with 20 minutes to go before the cards were in the digital air. So I sent a mass text-message to all my favorite donkeys that said MULTI-TASK, BITCHES!, hoping to drum up some more players.
Unfortunately, that didn't work--most of them have a hard enough time playing cards, much less trying to avoid drafting players who are out for the season, so our tournament kicked off with a whopping six players at the table. And adding insult to injury, they'd set the table up so that everyone was on my left. What the...?
As you can imagine, it went fairly quickly until we got down to heads-up play. Yep, I was one of the final two, but Little Drew had me covered about 6-1 in chips. But I worked my way back to even, although it seemed like that bastard had two pair every time I had an Ace, pissing me off time after time.
I finally got him though, when he had the bad sense to go all in on a flush draw when I had two pair. He never got that fourth spade, and well, they ended up playing the Mikey National Anthem there on the podium at the conclusion. So now I'm the first multiple-winner of the T2V Sunday Tournament, and I get to talk shiat for a week, even though I only had to beat five people to get there. I'll take it, though.
Anyhow, that's the weekend. I've got to work first thing in the morning, and even though I have no scheduled days off until next Monday, and Beth works every night, I'm gonna call her tomorrow and hopefully we can work out a time to go out for lunch or find some sort of Vegas-style buffoonery to do together this week.
And just because I'm an immature dork with too much time on my hands, I set her ringtone on my phone to She's A Lady, by Tom Jones, while I changed Kimmy's to The Thrill Is Gone by BB King. Of course, I'll never hear that one. Kimmy stopped calling me two months ago.
Mikey
Luckily it wasn't the early shift, but it was still kind of a grind. I went in at 11:00, and spent the day doing two downs and one up, making good, but not great, money. When a couple of 5:00 pm dealers came in, I got cut loose, but I didn't mind. I felt pretty tired and just wanted a shower and a beer.
However, I got two compliments on my nails while I was at work--I'm tellin' ya, women notice that stuff--so as I was leaving, I sent Beth a text message telling her that I was drummin' up business for her with my purty fangers. She answered me right back, so I called her. We had a nice chat on my drive home, but she was getting ready to go out to dinner with her brother and his wife, so no, my evening was spent at home alone. I did all kinds of fun stuff like laundry and cleaning the bathroom, although I sifted through the listing of local poker tournaments for about a half-hour before giving up.
I made the mistake of sleeping with my bedroom door open, and around 6:00 am I was awakened by two oversized golden retrievers jumping up on my bed with stuffed animals in their mouths, begging me to play with them. I gave them far less attention than they wanted, and shooed them away after just a minute or two. I slept for another two hours before reaching over and turning on the coffeemaker.
Since it was my day off and I had absolutely no commitments, I lounged around in bed reading and drinking coffee for several hours. It was almost a perfect Sunday morning. I finally got up and showered, then got dressed and was suddenly stumped for something to do. Again, I was wanting to go play poker, but I was also kind of hungry, having not eaten anything since leaving work the previous afternoon. The only thing I had in the kitchen was English muffins, yogurt, and orange juice, and that didn't really turn my crank in the middle of the afternoon, so I tried thinking of a good local restaurant where I could have lunch.
I considered Settebello, as it's just down the street, but I just wasn't in the mood for pizza. Then I thought about what's good over at Green Valley Ranch or at The District. I remembered that Lucille's BBQ has been on the to-do list for some time, and as soon as I thought of it, BBQ sounded like a damn fine idea. So I headed off towards The District.
It was about 3:30 in the afternoon when I got there, and when I walked in, I could see that the restaurant was only about half-full. I told the chick at the hostess stand that I'd just need a table for one, and she handed me a pager and said that it would be a few minutes.
I was kind of taken aback, because there were clearly plenty of tables available, and about a dozen servers milling about doing not much.
Really? I need a pager for a single top? Are you guys short-staffed today?
She hemmed and hawed for a moment, unable to admit that she'd just given me the pager out of habit, and finally said Well, there's immediate seating in the bar.
That was fine with me, so I grabbed a corner table and opened the menu that was already there waiting for me. I knew I didn't want any appetizers, because I figured that if it was any kind of respectable 'cue joint, the main course would be more than enough food.
After spending quite a bit of time perusing the appetizer and drink menu, along with the regular menu, I decided that I'd have the two-meat combo, so I went with the baby-back ribs and brisket, and for sides I chose the honey-roasted peanut slaw and BBQ beans. And it came with biscuits that were served with some sort of honey/cinnamon butter. I was impressed early on when I found out that not only was Lucille's a 'Coke' place, but they also served it in Mason Jars, just like grandpa's lemonade.
I sat there nibbling on my biscuits and sipping my Coke, reading my magazine and waiting for the food to show up.
It didn't take long, and I was quite impressed. I got a half-slab of ribs, a large hunk-o-brisket, my two sides, and a wedge of seedless watermelon. They had three different bottles of BBQ sauce on the table, and I think I found the perfect combination by mixing their classic mop sauce with the hot-n-spicy offering.
The beans were very good--swimming in a sweet and smoky sauce, cooked just one minute past al-dente. And the sauce had some sort of piggy goodness floating around in it. I don't know if it was bacon, fatback, hamhocks, or what, but whatever it was, it sure was good and it didn't taste like it was good for you. The cole slaw was interesting--it was a vinegar based dressing, with shredded cabbage, both green and red, plus carrots, and big chunks of sweet peppers. And the whole dish was covered with finely chopped honey-roasted peanuts. It was pretty good--nothing like I expected, and my only gripe was that the cole slaw was more room temperature than cool. Maybe I'm an oddball, but I prefer that stuff to be colder.
The brisket was fork tender--seriously--no knife needed! It had just enough smokiness to it to give it some good flavor, and I was happy to try all the different varieties of sauce with it. But the highlight of the plate was the baby-back ribs. They were really tasty. After one bite I was kicking myself for getting the combo plate. Not that the brisket wasn't good, but the ribs were just so much better. Truly, god had smiled upon that pig, for it brought much happiness. Anthony Bourdain is right when he speaks about the pig being a superior animal to the cow. Not that I don't love me some tasty beef, but damn, a pig, slow smoked over hickory wood and dipped in a sweet sauce, well, that's just a bit of heaven on a plate as far as I'm concerned.
I nibbled and sucked every last bit of meat off of those bones, happily making a mess of my face and hands. The rest of the meal was pretty damn good, but those ribs stood head and shoulders above everything else.
I would go so far as to say it was the best BBQ I've had in Vegas. Granted, I'm not drawing on lots of experience, as my visits to both Salt Lick and Memphis Championship were downright awful, and the BBQ at Ellis Island was the best I'd had since I left Nashville. But Lucille's, well, they're doing it right. Not bad for a smokehouse based in Orange County instead of Kansas City or Possum Holler, Tennessee.
As my meal was winding down, my waitress brought me a plate with a rolled up hot-and-wet towel to clean myself up with. Coupled with the free refills and CNN on the TV, I almost felt like I was flying first-class. And yeah, Lucille's, compared to many of the roadside stands I've visited in the south, is a first class operation. No picnic tables, no flies, no paper plates. And no Wonder Bread with my meat, either. I enjoyed the air conditioning and the blues music being piped in overhead, and if they could just figure out a way to combine a little honeysuckle smell in with the wood smoke, maybe throw in a few lightning bugs around dusk, well, then I'd forget that the authentic BBQ I was grubbin' on was being served in Henderson Nevada.
I couldn't enjoy such a fine southern meal like that without trying dessert. Oh, they had stuff like chocolate cake and Snickers pie on the menu, but if you're gonna go full-on southern style, there are only two desserts to choose from--cobbler or banana pudding. And when my waitress told me that the seasonal fruit was peaches, well, that sealed the deal.
I ordered mine with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, just as god intended. It came out piping hot, full of about three whole peaches worth of fruity goodness inside, garnished with whipped cream and a mint sprig, the ice cream slowly melting into a pool across the sugary crust, seeping down into the fruit below.
It was a fine epilogue to a very fine meal, and as much as I wanted to eat it all, I just couldn't finish the job. I was stuffed.
My meal came to about $38 before tip--not cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but they gotta pay for that air conditioning and indoor plumbing, unlike most of the joints I've seen in my travels. I toked it up to $45 and waddled out of there, pleasantly surprised that I can find great BBQ in my neighborhood, even if I have to pay a premium for it.
I will certainly be going back!
My plan after dinner was to fill up my gas tank and then head down to Planet Hollywood and play in one of their evening tournaments. But just as I was pulling into the gas station, I realized that it was Sunday night--time for another T2V tourney at PokerStars.
I called Dougie to see if it was still on--there had been talk of a cancellation due to most of the buffoons being involved in their fantasy football draft which overlapped the poker tournament. He said it was still on, but likely to be sparsely attended.
So after I filled my tank, I headed home instead of to the Strip, logged on, and saw that I was the third player registered, with 20 minutes to go before the cards were in the digital air. So I sent a mass text-message to all my favorite donkeys that said MULTI-TASK, BITCHES!, hoping to drum up some more players.
Unfortunately, that didn't work--most of them have a hard enough time playing cards, much less trying to avoid drafting players who are out for the season, so our tournament kicked off with a whopping six players at the table. And adding insult to injury, they'd set the table up so that everyone was on my left. What the...?
As you can imagine, it went fairly quickly until we got down to heads-up play. Yep, I was one of the final two, but Little Drew had me covered about 6-1 in chips. But I worked my way back to even, although it seemed like that bastard had two pair every time I had an Ace, pissing me off time after time.
I finally got him though, when he had the bad sense to go all in on a flush draw when I had two pair. He never got that fourth spade, and well, they ended up playing the Mikey National Anthem there on the podium at the conclusion. So now I'm the first multiple-winner of the T2V Sunday Tournament, and I get to talk shiat for a week, even though I only had to beat five people to get there. I'll take it, though.
Anyhow, that's the weekend. I've got to work first thing in the morning, and even though I have no scheduled days off until next Monday, and Beth works every night, I'm gonna call her tomorrow and hopefully we can work out a time to go out for lunch or find some sort of Vegas-style buffoonery to do together this week.
And just because I'm an immature dork with too much time on my hands, I set her ringtone on my phone to She's A Lady, by Tom Jones, while I changed Kimmy's to The Thrill Is Gone by BB King. Of course, I'll never hear that one. Kimmy stopped calling me two months ago.
Mikey
Friday, August 22, 2008
Imperial Fleet Week, San Francisco
An Absolutely Wonderful Friday
Hey gang. Sorry for the DMV buzzkill post yesterday, but well, I guess it serves to keep me on an even keel, especially after my previous day.
But the pendulum is swinging back to the good side today.
First of all, last night, I was sick of hanging out in the house, and wanted to get out and do something. Plus, I was hungry. The ironic thing is that I didn't even *think* to go play in a poker tournament, which is usually my fallback position whenever I'm bored. Normally, my natural laziness overcomes my hunger, and I just skip the eating dinner part and figure Oh well, I can go into work early tomorrow and eat before my shift, and that usually settles the matter. But then I realized that I wouldn't be working today--the poker room is about as dead as a Hummer dealership on the day gas hit four bucks a gallon.
I considered going down to the casino and eating in one of the nicer restaurants, then maybe finding my way to the slot machines in a certain someone's section, but I thought that would be kinda lame. First of all, I hate-hate-hate being in the casino on my day off. Second of all, I don't play slots. And third of all, I thought it would be the wrong move at this point. I mean, yeah, I kinda like this gal, but really, what good would it do me? A man's got to know his limitations, and after that whole Kimmy episode, I'm all too aware of those limitations.
So I scrapped that idea...
Instead, I decided to haul my ass over to Summerlin and have dinner at Chicago Brewing Company. I grabbed my still-unread August issue of Poker Pro magazine, found my car keys, and headed for the door. Sitting on the table at the base of the stairs was my first box from Amazon, which contained three books I'd ordered; the Full Tilt Poker Strategy Guide-Tournament Edition, It's Never Too Late To Get Rich, and The Best Travel Writing of 2008.
So I grabbed the travel writing book and headed out.
It's about a half-hour's drive out to CBC on the west side, but traffic was light at that late hour. The restaurant is open 24 hours, and I was tempted to sit out on the patio and eat since it was such a nice night outside, but I wanted to do some reading, so I opted for the empty dining room.
I knew before I got there what I was going to have--a plate of calamari, a bowl of French onion soup, and a half-order of those amazing garlic knots. The waitress also gave me the rundown on their beer specials, and they still have that awesome Blueberry-Vanilla wheat beer, plus the Belgian Saison, but now they also offered a light Peach beer.
That sounded excellent, so I ordered a glass of that. My calamari showed up just a few minutes later, and as much as I wanted to sit and read, I was drawn in to watching the Olympics on the big screen. I've kind of been doing a personal Olympic boycott for the past several years, just because the coverage on NBC is so bad. And for the most part, all those 'compelling' stories are pretty much the same year after year. Yeah, athlete trained hard and sacrificed, blah blah blah... Maybe I'm just cynical, but I'm just not into it.
Besides, the ONE thing I wanted to see, Michael Phelps getting his 8th gold medal, wasn't shown live. Nope, I tuned in only to have to sit through the frickin' women's marathon that nobody cared about. Brilliant programming decision at NBC, once again.
So that's why I wasn't into the Olympics. But I had to admit, watching the track events was quite entertaining, and it quelled my cynicism for several hours. Besides, if you can't enjoy stuff like this,
well then, I have to question your patriotism.
Actually, it was just the men's events I was watching, but hey, you liked those pictures, admit it.
Anyhow, the peach beer was excellent--very crisp and refreshing, and the calamari was just as good as it's always been. Once the first course was gone, I decided to go with a glass of the Belgian Saison beer--it's a bit heavier and spicier, and honestly, I didn't think a peach-flavored beer would go so well with all of the onions and garlic I was about to consume.
The onion soup was very good, but not great. It was thoroughly enjoyable, but compared to some of the other versions I've had around town, it was somewhat pedestrian. It didn't have that zip that I'm used to, and the cheese melted on top was just plain old Swiss, not the more upscale Gruyere. But that didn't stop me from eating every last drop, minus of course those few that found their way to the front of my shirt.
The garlic knots were oh-my-god good, as expected, and I even took the time to send Lars a text message that said Mmmm... Garlic donuts... I'm sure he appreciated it.
I lingered over my dinner, enjoying the good food, the thrill of victory, and small talk with the bored waitress (I was her only table). Before I finished, I ordered a small pepperoni & mushroom pizza to go, which I'm eating as I type this.
Once I got home, I just cleared some space on my DVR, watching the season finale of In Plain Sight (a great show, by the way), and Anthony Bourdain in Puerto Rico. His trip was a bit different than mine, although he seemed to capture the essence of the island perfectly. He may have sampled more local cuisine that I did, but he never got a tattoo in the back room of a dingy bootleg record store while sitting in an old dentist's chair, by a guy who spoke absolutely *no* English, either. That place certainly wasn't listed in the Lonely Planet guide, I'm sure.
Anyhow, I went to bed sometime around 2:00 am, unafraid of having my phone ring. I knew I wasn't gonna get called in. I could almost guarantee that are more angels dancing on the head of a pin than there were poker players in our room at 3:00 am. So I thoroughly enjoyed my full-night's sleep.
I set my alarm for 9:00 am this morning, why, I don't know. Yeah, I've got stuff to do, but nothing beats lying around in bed like a sloth on your day off. Once it woke me up, I turned it off and slept for another hour or so, enjoying the cool breeze of the ceiling fan and the knowledge that the day was mine.
I finally crawled out of bed and some point and got started on my day. The priority for the day was to head over to the spa and get my manicure done with one of my favorite gals. So I did the unthinkable on my day off and actually shaved. That's a big no-no, and it definitely goes against the Bachelor's Code (they're more like guidelines, actually), but I had to make myself look good. Or at least presentable.
I found a clean and unwrinkled shirt, got dressed, and headed out. Of course I got hassled at the security gate again--they didn't have my name on the list, again, so I had to pull over and wait like some dude at the McDonalds' drive-thru who orders a McRib with no sauce. A few minutes later, my credentials checked out, and I was allowed entrance into the Holiest of Holies.
Once I got to the spa, I checked in at the desk and they said that Beth would be with me in just a few minutes. From my seat in the corner, I could see in the mirror that she was finishing off a pedicure for a lady, so I chilled for a few minutes, enjoying the fact that my cellphone holds almost as many songs as my iPod does.
Just about the time I was about to air-guitar along with the solo at the end of Free Bird, Beth came out and told me she was ready for me, saving me from embarrassing myself further in front of all the rich old ladies getting their hair done.
She went to work on my nails, and we had a great conversation. I was her last client of the day, and instead of it taking just a half hour, she spent an hour with me. Not only did I get a first-class manicure, but she gave me a wonderful hand massage, too. That's something I'd never had before--a hand massage. And for somebody who uses their hands constantly for work, it was quite the blissful experience. I told her, jokingly, that next time I was there, screw the manicure, I just want a hand massage for an hour.
Anyhow, here's the story about Beth and I. We went out once in the past--but it was a 'group' date--me, her, and Kimmy. Yes, I was feeling like quite the stud that night, having two of the hottest girls in Vegas on my arm for several hours. But before that, we were just casual acquaintances--I'd seen her around the casino, but she rarely worked in my section at all. So that night when the three of us went out, I got to know her much better, and we became fast friends. She'd come by and say hello whenever she'd see me working, and we'd have dinner in the break room together on occasion, but that was it. I still didn't know her very well at all, and of course, never had her on my radar because truthfully, she's about the most attractive girl I've ever met, and so far outta my league that it's almost laughable.
But, we've gotten to be better friends these past couple of months, and I figured we'd hang out again sometime down the road. Anyhow, part of our conversation awhile back was how she used to be a nail tech and really enjoyed it, and would like to get back into it. I encouraged her a bit and said that if she got into a salon somewhere, I promised that I'd have her do my nails.
So that brought us up to a few weeks ago when I ran into her in the parking garage, and she told me that she's working at the spa part-time doing nails. So the next day I made an appointment.
So the reality is, while we chatted a bit over the past few months, I really didn't know her very well at all. But since she got my number last week, we've talked on the phone a few times, one night for almost a half hour, and it seemed like she was testing the waters with me. And the other day when she told me to call her up whenever I was out and about, well, that made me think twice that hey, maybe she's mildly interested in spending some time with me.
Well, today, since we had an hour of 'alone-time', I got my interview. In the course of our conversation, she asked all those personal questions that kind of clear the way for the next step--am I married, engaged, seeing anyone? No, what about you? Nope, totally single, been divorced for awhile now, not seeing anybody, etc etc... Not that the whole conversation went that way, but in the course of our talk, all the hurdles were cleared, so to speak.
I felt that regardless of what happens or doesn't happen, at least I have someone very cool to hang out with.
When we finally finished up, I left her a tip and went up to the desk to pay the tab and make another appointment for two weeks from now because it was the best $22 I'd spent in a long time. While I was doing that, I looked up and could see her mouthing me a message to wait for her, and she'd walk out with me.
Ok!
Just then, the lady with the pedicure, who was the client right before me, came back in lamenting the fact that her son had stepped on her toe and she needed her nail fixed right away.
I gave Beth the 'What should I do?' look, and again, she whispered to just wait, it would only be a few minutes. So I sat back down and waited for her to finish up the toe-repair. It didn't take long, and we were on our way out to her truck a few minutes later. I have to admit, I was feeling really nervous right about then. I think I'm now over that whole stuttering mess thing, but I could tell that the moment of truth was lurking right around the corner. About to the point where the awkward goodbye happens, she said "Well, I guess I'll see you at work sometime", but I came back with Nah, I don't wanna wait that long. How about I call you next week and we go out to lunch or something?
Of course she said yes. Actually, she said to call her once I knew what my schedule was, and then we'll plan something.
And the icing on the cake was the goodbye kiss right there in the parking lot.
I don't wanna sound like too much of a doofus, but yep, it's been a pretty good day so far. Anything else is just gravy.
Mikey
But the pendulum is swinging back to the good side today.
First of all, last night, I was sick of hanging out in the house, and wanted to get out and do something. Plus, I was hungry. The ironic thing is that I didn't even *think* to go play in a poker tournament, which is usually my fallback position whenever I'm bored. Normally, my natural laziness overcomes my hunger, and I just skip the eating dinner part and figure Oh well, I can go into work early tomorrow and eat before my shift, and that usually settles the matter. But then I realized that I wouldn't be working today--the poker room is about as dead as a Hummer dealership on the day gas hit four bucks a gallon.
I considered going down to the casino and eating in one of the nicer restaurants, then maybe finding my way to the slot machines in a certain someone's section, but I thought that would be kinda lame. First of all, I hate-hate-hate being in the casino on my day off. Second of all, I don't play slots. And third of all, I thought it would be the wrong move at this point. I mean, yeah, I kinda like this gal, but really, what good would it do me? A man's got to know his limitations, and after that whole Kimmy episode, I'm all too aware of those limitations.
So I scrapped that idea...
Instead, I decided to haul my ass over to Summerlin and have dinner at Chicago Brewing Company. I grabbed my still-unread August issue of Poker Pro magazine, found my car keys, and headed for the door. Sitting on the table at the base of the stairs was my first box from Amazon, which contained three books I'd ordered; the Full Tilt Poker Strategy Guide-Tournament Edition, It's Never Too Late To Get Rich, and The Best Travel Writing of 2008.
So I grabbed the travel writing book and headed out.
It's about a half-hour's drive out to CBC on the west side, but traffic was light at that late hour. The restaurant is open 24 hours, and I was tempted to sit out on the patio and eat since it was such a nice night outside, but I wanted to do some reading, so I opted for the empty dining room.
I knew before I got there what I was going to have--a plate of calamari, a bowl of French onion soup, and a half-order of those amazing garlic knots. The waitress also gave me the rundown on their beer specials, and they still have that awesome Blueberry-Vanilla wheat beer, plus the Belgian Saison, but now they also offered a light Peach beer.
That sounded excellent, so I ordered a glass of that. My calamari showed up just a few minutes later, and as much as I wanted to sit and read, I was drawn in to watching the Olympics on the big screen. I've kind of been doing a personal Olympic boycott for the past several years, just because the coverage on NBC is so bad. And for the most part, all those 'compelling' stories are pretty much the same year after year. Yeah, athlete trained hard and sacrificed, blah blah blah... Maybe I'm just cynical, but I'm just not into it.
Besides, the ONE thing I wanted to see, Michael Phelps getting his 8th gold medal, wasn't shown live. Nope, I tuned in only to have to sit through the frickin' women's marathon that nobody cared about. Brilliant programming decision at NBC, once again.
So that's why I wasn't into the Olympics. But I had to admit, watching the track events was quite entertaining, and it quelled my cynicism for several hours. Besides, if you can't enjoy stuff like this,
well then, I have to question your patriotism.
Actually, it was just the men's events I was watching, but hey, you liked those pictures, admit it.
Anyhow, the peach beer was excellent--very crisp and refreshing, and the calamari was just as good as it's always been. Once the first course was gone, I decided to go with a glass of the Belgian Saison beer--it's a bit heavier and spicier, and honestly, I didn't think a peach-flavored beer would go so well with all of the onions and garlic I was about to consume.
The onion soup was very good, but not great. It was thoroughly enjoyable, but compared to some of the other versions I've had around town, it was somewhat pedestrian. It didn't have that zip that I'm used to, and the cheese melted on top was just plain old Swiss, not the more upscale Gruyere. But that didn't stop me from eating every last drop, minus of course those few that found their way to the front of my shirt.
The garlic knots were oh-my-god good, as expected, and I even took the time to send Lars a text message that said Mmmm... Garlic donuts... I'm sure he appreciated it.
I lingered over my dinner, enjoying the good food, the thrill of victory, and small talk with the bored waitress (I was her only table). Before I finished, I ordered a small pepperoni & mushroom pizza to go, which I'm eating as I type this.
Once I got home, I just cleared some space on my DVR, watching the season finale of In Plain Sight (a great show, by the way), and Anthony Bourdain in Puerto Rico. His trip was a bit different than mine, although he seemed to capture the essence of the island perfectly. He may have sampled more local cuisine that I did, but he never got a tattoo in the back room of a dingy bootleg record store while sitting in an old dentist's chair, by a guy who spoke absolutely *no* English, either. That place certainly wasn't listed in the Lonely Planet guide, I'm sure.
Anyhow, I went to bed sometime around 2:00 am, unafraid of having my phone ring. I knew I wasn't gonna get called in. I could almost guarantee that are more angels dancing on the head of a pin than there were poker players in our room at 3:00 am. So I thoroughly enjoyed my full-night's sleep.
I set my alarm for 9:00 am this morning, why, I don't know. Yeah, I've got stuff to do, but nothing beats lying around in bed like a sloth on your day off. Once it woke me up, I turned it off and slept for another hour or so, enjoying the cool breeze of the ceiling fan and the knowledge that the day was mine.
I finally crawled out of bed and some point and got started on my day. The priority for the day was to head over to the spa and get my manicure done with one of my favorite gals. So I did the unthinkable on my day off and actually shaved. That's a big no-no, and it definitely goes against the Bachelor's Code (they're more like guidelines, actually), but I had to make myself look good. Or at least presentable.
I found a clean and unwrinkled shirt, got dressed, and headed out. Of course I got hassled at the security gate again--they didn't have my name on the list, again, so I had to pull over and wait like some dude at the McDonalds' drive-thru who orders a McRib with no sauce. A few minutes later, my credentials checked out, and I was allowed entrance into the Holiest of Holies.
Once I got to the spa, I checked in at the desk and they said that Beth would be with me in just a few minutes. From my seat in the corner, I could see in the mirror that she was finishing off a pedicure for a lady, so I chilled for a few minutes, enjoying the fact that my cellphone holds almost as many songs as my iPod does.
Just about the time I was about to air-guitar along with the solo at the end of Free Bird, Beth came out and told me she was ready for me, saving me from embarrassing myself further in front of all the rich old ladies getting their hair done.
She went to work on my nails, and we had a great conversation. I was her last client of the day, and instead of it taking just a half hour, she spent an hour with me. Not only did I get a first-class manicure, but she gave me a wonderful hand massage, too. That's something I'd never had before--a hand massage. And for somebody who uses their hands constantly for work, it was quite the blissful experience. I told her, jokingly, that next time I was there, screw the manicure, I just want a hand massage for an hour.
Anyhow, here's the story about Beth and I. We went out once in the past--but it was a 'group' date--me, her, and Kimmy. Yes, I was feeling like quite the stud that night, having two of the hottest girls in Vegas on my arm for several hours. But before that, we were just casual acquaintances--I'd seen her around the casino, but she rarely worked in my section at all. So that night when the three of us went out, I got to know her much better, and we became fast friends. She'd come by and say hello whenever she'd see me working, and we'd have dinner in the break room together on occasion, but that was it. I still didn't know her very well at all, and of course, never had her on my radar because truthfully, she's about the most attractive girl I've ever met, and so far outta my league that it's almost laughable.
But, we've gotten to be better friends these past couple of months, and I figured we'd hang out again sometime down the road. Anyhow, part of our conversation awhile back was how she used to be a nail tech and really enjoyed it, and would like to get back into it. I encouraged her a bit and said that if she got into a salon somewhere, I promised that I'd have her do my nails.
So that brought us up to a few weeks ago when I ran into her in the parking garage, and she told me that she's working at the spa part-time doing nails. So the next day I made an appointment.
So the reality is, while we chatted a bit over the past few months, I really didn't know her very well at all. But since she got my number last week, we've talked on the phone a few times, one night for almost a half hour, and it seemed like she was testing the waters with me. And the other day when she told me to call her up whenever I was out and about, well, that made me think twice that hey, maybe she's mildly interested in spending some time with me.
Well, today, since we had an hour of 'alone-time', I got my interview. In the course of our conversation, she asked all those personal questions that kind of clear the way for the next step--am I married, engaged, seeing anyone? No, what about you? Nope, totally single, been divorced for awhile now, not seeing anybody, etc etc... Not that the whole conversation went that way, but in the course of our talk, all the hurdles were cleared, so to speak.
I felt that regardless of what happens or doesn't happen, at least I have someone very cool to hang out with.
When we finally finished up, I left her a tip and went up to the desk to pay the tab and make another appointment for two weeks from now because it was the best $22 I'd spent in a long time. While I was doing that, I looked up and could see her mouthing me a message to wait for her, and she'd walk out with me.
Ok!
Just then, the lady with the pedicure, who was the client right before me, came back in lamenting the fact that her son had stepped on her toe and she needed her nail fixed right away.
I gave Beth the 'What should I do?' look, and again, she whispered to just wait, it would only be a few minutes. So I sat back down and waited for her to finish up the toe-repair. It didn't take long, and we were on our way out to her truck a few minutes later. I have to admit, I was feeling really nervous right about then. I think I'm now over that whole stuttering mess thing, but I could tell that the moment of truth was lurking right around the corner. About to the point where the awkward goodbye happens, she said "Well, I guess I'll see you at work sometime", but I came back with Nah, I don't wanna wait that long. How about I call you next week and we go out to lunch or something?
Of course she said yes. Actually, she said to call her once I knew what my schedule was, and then we'll plan something.
And the icing on the cake was the goodbye kiss right there in the parking lot.
I don't wanna sound like too much of a doofus, but yep, it's been a pretty good day so far. Anything else is just gravy.
Mikey
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Easy Come, Easy Go
Well, my workday wasn't nearly as lucrative this time around. Almost by a factor of ten. I was right about that whole famine thing--I went in to work this morning at 6:00 am, and there wasn't a single player in the room. In fact, it's back to that crappy routine where I come in and sit on my ass for two hours, waiting for the old guys to shuffle in. It's obvious that our local players are suffering from poker burn-out. It'll probably be another three weeks before we're good and busy again.
But then, in the micro-sense, there was more feast vs. famine because the 8:00 am dealer never showed up, and I was locked down for two hours straight once the old fellers showed up. I shouldn't complain because I pretty much made my day by then. At ten I took a half-hour break when the next dealer came in, so I went back to the dining room and got some breakfast. At the bottom of the hour I did one more push, but then there were two more dealers coming in at 11:00. We didn't have enough players to get a tournament started, so at 11:00 we had four dealers and one game.
So I told the boss that I'd have no problem at all with cutting out early, which alleviated her stress because she was pretty apologetic due to having to punt me out of there at eleven anyways. The difference is that this time I was totally cool with working a short day.
My only errand for the day was to go to the bank and deposit all the scratch that I made the past two days, minus of course a little bit of walkin' around money. Then I came straight home, not tempted in the least to do any shopping or spending my hard-earned pimproll.
And here's why: When I got home on Wednesday, the first full-month electric bill was waiting for me. It was $422. Ouch. Apparently, it ain't cheap to keep this big ol' house cool during the summer months, especially this upstairs loft area where my bedroom is with it's huge floor-to-ceiling windows featuring a view of the Strip. It's a great view, but damn, it sure is pricey!
So I coughed up $211 to my roommate and gave thanks that the bill came on that day instead of earlier in the week when it might've caused a bit more stress.
But then I got the kicker. Last night I was poking around on the Nevada DMV website, and I saw that I could renew my tags online. So I grabbed a flashlight and got my VIN info off of the door pillar on my truck, then came back upstairs to pay The Man.
After inputting the required info, I got a huge case of sticker shock. Anybody wanna guess what it's gonna cost to renew my tags in our fine state? I about shiat when I saw that they want $907. Granted, for being a dork, I owe over a hundred bucks in late fees, but there are two other factors at play--1) It's ridiculously expensive to register a car in this state, even if you're a good citizen and pay on time, and 2) They *really* bend you over if you have personalized vanity plates, which I do...
Additionally, I can't change my address information online (my registration is still on record with my old address), so I have to physically go down to the DMV office and stand in line with the unwashed masses, unable to hide my shame anonymously through digital channels.
So, I couldn't renew my tags after all, but once I saw the price tag, I figured I'd just wait until the end of the month after the next round of bills get paid, anyways. Nine hundred bucks is a tough nut to swallow, so I put most of my cash in the bank. I'm also waiting for a $350 check from PokerStars, so that'll help offset the costs. But it's coming from England, and I'm sure they'll be taking their own sweet time about it.
Luckily, I'm all caught up on my expenses for the month and all my shopping was done before my big day at work. So it won't hurt too badly to give up nine Benjamins to the great state of Nevada, but given my druthers, well, I'd rather just keep it for myself.
And speaking of shopping, I'm waiting for the UPS man to start delivering many boxes of goodies to me--I've got books, clothes, and a new wallet on the way, in addition to a new set of prescription sunglasses. The sunglasses are particularly amazing because they were shipped less than 24 hours after I ordered them, and yet when I physically went to the eye doctor to get my regular prescription glasses back in February, it took over a week for them to be made. As Arsenio (and C&C Music Factory) used to say, Things that make you go hmmm...
Anyhow, that's about all that's going on around here. I've got the day off tomorrow, then I'm working a good shift on Saturday, then I'm off again on Sunday. At some point this weekend, I'm going to facilitate the final leg of The Great Booze Migration of 2008 and bring all 30+ bottles that have been sitting in boxes down in the garage for the past month-and-a-half up to my room and put them proudly on display. That, coupled with two more boxes of books, should finally make me 'officially' moved in to my new place.
Mikey
But then, in the micro-sense, there was more feast vs. famine because the 8:00 am dealer never showed up, and I was locked down for two hours straight once the old fellers showed up. I shouldn't complain because I pretty much made my day by then. At ten I took a half-hour break when the next dealer came in, so I went back to the dining room and got some breakfast. At the bottom of the hour I did one more push, but then there were two more dealers coming in at 11:00. We didn't have enough players to get a tournament started, so at 11:00 we had four dealers and one game.
So I told the boss that I'd have no problem at all with cutting out early, which alleviated her stress because she was pretty apologetic due to having to punt me out of there at eleven anyways. The difference is that this time I was totally cool with working a short day.
My only errand for the day was to go to the bank and deposit all the scratch that I made the past two days, minus of course a little bit of walkin' around money. Then I came straight home, not tempted in the least to do any shopping or spending my hard-earned pimproll.
And here's why: When I got home on Wednesday, the first full-month electric bill was waiting for me. It was $422. Ouch. Apparently, it ain't cheap to keep this big ol' house cool during the summer months, especially this upstairs loft area where my bedroom is with it's huge floor-to-ceiling windows featuring a view of the Strip. It's a great view, but damn, it sure is pricey!
So I coughed up $211 to my roommate and gave thanks that the bill came on that day instead of earlier in the week when it might've caused a bit more stress.
But then I got the kicker. Last night I was poking around on the Nevada DMV website, and I saw that I could renew my tags online. So I grabbed a flashlight and got my VIN info off of the door pillar on my truck, then came back upstairs to pay The Man.
After inputting the required info, I got a huge case of sticker shock. Anybody wanna guess what it's gonna cost to renew my tags in our fine state? I about shiat when I saw that they want $907. Granted, for being a dork, I owe over a hundred bucks in late fees, but there are two other factors at play--1) It's ridiculously expensive to register a car in this state, even if you're a good citizen and pay on time, and 2) They *really* bend you over if you have personalized vanity plates, which I do...
Additionally, I can't change my address information online (my registration is still on record with my old address), so I have to physically go down to the DMV office and stand in line with the unwashed masses, unable to hide my shame anonymously through digital channels.
So, I couldn't renew my tags after all, but once I saw the price tag, I figured I'd just wait until the end of the month after the next round of bills get paid, anyways. Nine hundred bucks is a tough nut to swallow, so I put most of my cash in the bank. I'm also waiting for a $350 check from PokerStars, so that'll help offset the costs. But it's coming from England, and I'm sure they'll be taking their own sweet time about it.
Luckily, I'm all caught up on my expenses for the month and all my shopping was done before my big day at work. So it won't hurt too badly to give up nine Benjamins to the great state of Nevada, but given my druthers, well, I'd rather just keep it for myself.
And speaking of shopping, I'm waiting for the UPS man to start delivering many boxes of goodies to me--I've got books, clothes, and a new wallet on the way, in addition to a new set of prescription sunglasses. The sunglasses are particularly amazing because they were shipped less than 24 hours after I ordered them, and yet when I physically went to the eye doctor to get my regular prescription glasses back in February, it took over a week for them to be made. As Arsenio (and C&C Music Factory) used to say, Things that make you go hmmm...
Anyhow, that's about all that's going on around here. I've got the day off tomorrow, then I'm working a good shift on Saturday, then I'm off again on Sunday. At some point this weekend, I'm going to facilitate the final leg of The Great Booze Migration of 2008 and bring all 30+ bottles that have been sitting in boxes down in the garage for the past month-and-a-half up to my room and put them proudly on display. That, coupled with two more boxes of books, should finally make me 'officially' moved in to my new place.
Mikey
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Banana Chip Day
Yesterday just wasn't my day.Today was.
You all know that I've been killing myself working six days a week, sometimes 10 hours a day, for the past three weeks or so, because that damn Bad Beat Jackpot just wouldn't hit. Hell, yesterday it got down to four-of-a-kind Threes being the qualifying hand, and I was amazed that it made it that far.
So I was scheduled to come in to work at 6:00 am this morning, but last night around 9:30 or so, I decided to call the poker room to see how busy it was, just to gauge whether or not they'd be calling me in earlier. When I talked to the floor manager on the phone, his exact words were Yeah, you better go to bed now, you'll be coming in early. Make sure your phone is turned on.
As promised, at 2:45 this morning, my phone was ringing, and they were asking me to come in ASAP. It took me a few minutes to motivate myself out of bed, but the thought of dealing a juicy no-limit game for a few hours instead of sitting around at the old-fart 4/8 table helped me get up and headed in the right direction.
Just as I came around the corner from the elevator, still about 30 yards away from the poker room, I could hear all kinds of commotion. It almost sounded like a hot craps table--I could hear people screaming Come on NINE... Give us a NINE!!! And then a huge cheer went up just as I walked in to the room, with everyone at one table jumping around, hugging and high-fiving.
Yep, the Bad Beat Jackpot had finally hit--and it hit in my poker room.
Two players had flopped trips, sevens and nines, and the guy with the nines went all-in on the flop, and he had the other player covered, requiring him to go all-in also. Now, the player with the sevens thought about it for a second, and *almost* folded, as he had no more money available to re-buy, and also figuring that he was beaten (there was a raising war before the flop). But after a minute in the tank, he figured, what the hell, and made the call.
They flipped over their cards, and the shorter-stacked guy made his quads on the turn. Now, he was happy because he figured he had the unbeatable hand--he was going to rake in a huge pot. And since the cards were face-up, everyone at the table suddenly was up out of their seats rooting for him to lose with a nine on the river. And a split-second later, the player with the four sevens realized what the stakes were and also began rooting for his own demise!
The dealer was the only one to remain seated, and I saw him tap the table twice and say Ok, here it comes, and the pandemonium that erupted when he put out the case nine was unreal. There were three tables going, but play had stopped at the other two games while everyone watched the showdown, and suddenly the whole room went absolutely apeshit.
My first order of business was to help the floorman get all the paperwork put together and have all the players accounted for. We gave everyone a jackpot chip and had each of them fill out a couple of lines of info. Of course, while this was going on, the players at the no-limit game, where the jackpot had hit, sent the waitress to go fetch shots of Jaegermeister for the entire room.
I had to push into a game a few minutes later, but it was barely a game--everyone was up running around, laughing, drinking, high-fiving, speculating on their table share amount, so trying to run a game was a lot like herding cats. Loud drunken cats. The shots kept coming, and the party was on.
On the other hand, since it was the middle of the night and there were so few players still up playing at that hour, and the jackpot was up to like $430,000, the players knew they were gonna get a huge table share--so the tips got really good, even before anyone got paid.
There were four dealers, one floorman, and three games going when the jackpot hit. The rule in our room is that if you deal the jackpot, you don't get up from the table until after it is paid out--and the dealers make the payouts on each table. That way, as a dealer, you're more likely to make a bigger share of tokes--not only does the table immediately bond, but the guys who win the big shares of the jackpot will generally take care of you.
So the dealer that put out the jackpot hand was locked down in the no-limit game, while the other three of us rotated between the two 4/8 games and helping the floorman do the paperwork and get the payoffs ready. It took almost an hour before all the other casinos reported in with their number of players, and it turns out that when the jackpot hit, there were 303 people playing Hold-em at all of our casinos combined.
The guy with the four sevens got $45,000, plus a table share.
The guy with the four nines got $30,000, plus a table share.
Every other player got a table share, which turned out to be $1172. Not bad--especially since the last two times it hit it was in the middle of the afternoon, and the table share was about $275 apiece.
I was the 'up-dealer' when the payoffs got figured, so I helped deliver all the money to the tables. We put a bucket in the middle of the layout, and have the dealer hand out the table shares. Luckily, all of our players were fairly generous--throwing lots of extra chips in the bucket for us, except for one dude who pocketed his whole stack of chips and took off as soon as he got paid. The funny thing was, all the other players berated him for being a stiff, which gave me a chuckle.
I didn't make the payoffs at the no-limit game--I was at the 4/8 tables, so I honestly don't know what the dealer made from the players for dealing the jackpot. But when I was counting up the tip buckets, the guy who won the $30,000 came over and put a thousand dollars in the bucket for us, and while that was going on, the player who won the $45,000 came over to each individual dealer and gave us each $200.
Once we got the toke buckets counted up, it turns out that our staff cut was $335 each. With the $200 I'd just pocketed from the jackpot winner, I was up over $500 for the day not including what was already in my pocket from my first hour on the 4/8 game! Woot!
Now, as soon as all the payoffs were made, both 4/8 games broke--everyone had been grinding so long that once they got paid, they all took off. The guy that had dealt the jackpot hand had also been working all night, and he wanted to go home, too. Since I was the 'fresh legs' in the room, and we were definitely *not* going to get another game going anytime soon, the floorman let all the other dealers go home (Hell, they all made $500+, so they were cool with cutting out!). So I was last man standing and stayed to deal at the single remaining drunken no-limit jackpot table.
That turned out to be a very good thing.
Since all the players were flush with cash and doing shot after shot after shot, every pot I pushed earned me at least ten bucks. But then I got random green $25 chips a few times just because. And then a few times, a couple of the players tossed me extra chips and thanked me for 'putting up with our dumb drunk asses'. Believe me, it was kind of a tough table to deal--it was loud, drunk, and slow--poker was definitely not the priority with those guys, but they played for almost three hours straight, and I was there the entire time.
I was having another one of those days where my shirt pocket wouldn't hold anymore chips--they were spilling out every time I'd lean over the table. But the problem was that my left pants pocket was so full also that it wouldn't hold anymore chips, either. Since the game was so slow, I spent whatever spare seconds I had to try and discreetly rathole chips into my other pocket. Finally, around 7:30 or so, the Boss showed up and told me I'd have relief in just a few minutes.
Not that I wanted to get off the game, but 1) the old farts had started to show up and wanted to play their 4/8 game, and 2) I really needed to take a piss and get a drink of water. I had been either dealing or doing the jackpot work for four hours straight by that point, and I was needing a break.
The eight o'clock dealer clocked in early and I managed to finally get off that table. It was lucrative, but man, it was a tough gig. Believe me, it was more babysitting that dealing, but the money was good. I went to the desk and started emptying my pockets, and about ten minutes later, I realized that I was already up over a thousand frickin' dollars for the day! And my shift was only half-way over!
I ran to the bathroom, then got a quick drink of water, and then opened the old-timer's game. By then, it was like a vacation. The old guys game pretty much runs itself--they don't get drunk, or angry, or throw cards, and all I have to do is make small talk and be friendly. Of course, it would take me a week to make a thousand dollars off of that game, so it was quite the trade-off.
It was still early, so word really hadn't gotten out that the jackpot had hit, so we had enough players to start another game after that. We had three dealers and three games, so I was still locked down. I managed to get one more 'down' at the no-limit game, but by then it was winding down. The Jager shots were starting to catch up with them, and most of the the players on that table had been there all night long. I dealt about 20 minutes before the game broke completely, and once I closed it down and cleaned up the mess, my boss was kind enough to tell me to go on and take a half-hour break, that I deserved some time away. It was true--besides a quick trip to the bathroom, I'd been going non-stop for six hours straight.
I went back to the dining room and got some breakfast, and just basically collapsed in a heap in the corner. Not only was I tired from only getting about three hours of sleep the night before, but man, jackpot days are absolute killers. I've been working for three of them, but this was the first time it hit in our poker room, so that cranked the intensity level up past eleven.
I got back at 10:30, and was happy to see two more dealers show up while I was dealing my next down. I was thinking to myself Hey, I might be able to talk my way out of here an hour early!, and I swear my boss was reading my mind, because when I got tapped out I looked over to the desk and she gave me the internationally-known throat-slash signal that means "You're done!".
Oh hell yeah... Talk about being happy to reach the end of my shift! Yeah, the time absolutely flew by, but it was a tough tough day. I cashed out for the last time, signed out, clocked out, and headed out.
With a pocket full of more cash than usual, my head was swimming with all kinds of ideas on how to spend it. But the only thing I did was stop at the gas station by my house and buy a tall fountain Coke. I came home, took a shower, and immediately passed out on the bed, not getting halfway through my drink.
I woke up a few hours later, and the realization struck me that the feast is over, and three weeks or so of famine begin again. It won't be as bad as it was in the middle of July--I'm scheduled for four full days next week--but I won't be getting any overtime and my daily take will go down quite a bit.
But I'm ok with that--it's been a great run, and I finished with quite a bang.
So the first thing I did when I woke up was to re-schedule my appointment at the spa for Friday afternoon. I'm on-call that day, but the smart money says I won't be working. Once I made the appointment, I called Beth back to tell her, and also to share the happy news about my day.
Something tells me that I'll have no problem finding ways to spend my new-found fortune. But as much as I'd love to live large with one of my favorite ladies, Vegas-style, the reality is that my tags expired three weeks ago, so tomorrow I'm going to the DMV to give them the lion's share of my score. But I'm sure I can spare a few bucks to have a little fun before it's all gone...
Mikey
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