New location.

Please see my new blog. Yes, I know starting a new blog was completely pointless and stupid and is in no way different than just starting to post here again.

Shopping.

I'm sitting here at Panera Bread while Ms. Brick shops. I reminded her again about how her lack of a driver's license causes me pain. I could be at home playing poker right now, except she needed a ride to the mall. That's the way relationships work, I guess. You give a little, you give a little.

"Well, you're sitting there blogging, which means you have a computer, why can't you play poker, then?" you ask? Well, apparently Panera Bread has taken a Nazi-like stance on free internet access. All poker sites are blocked. The 2+2 forums are blocked. Pokersourceonline.com is blocked. Cardplayer.com is blocked. They've got complete blockage on anything poker related. I find it interesting that Panera Bread has ten times the net blockage that my job does.

At work I can pretty much do anything except porn. I also can't actually play poker at work, although I did bang out a blackjack bonus there a couple months ago. I really don't think anyone is monitoring web use, because I would have gotten a verbal warning a long time ago.

My original intention here at Panera Bread was to sign up at Titan Poker through Pokersourceonline (9000 PSO points!) and start working on another bonus to help pay for the wedding. I haven't done anything in that regard for about a month. So far I have delivered $4,500 to the wedding bank account through my bonus whoring efforts, and have $400 in the wedding Neteller account to work with, for a total of $4,900.

I was at a high point of $5,300 last month, lost a chunk, got discouraged, cashed out most of what I had made into US dollars, leaving myself with $400. I'm going to do Titan and next month's monthly blackjack bonuses and be done with wedding whoring. What's left of the monthly blackjack bonuses anyway. Those are disappearring fast. I think the only ones left are Intercasino, William Hill, Cherry and CasinoEuro. Eurobet banned the United States, while Totalbet and UKBetting quit offering bonuses. I don't know what the deal with Littlewoods is. I've heard conflicting reports. I know there are others that are +EV, but they're not worth my time.

So we're out shopping. Right now. I dropped Ms. Brick off at the mall and then went to Old Navy to look at pants. I got a pair of jeans for $25. They are "painter's" jeans. That means they have a goofy pocket on the back for a paint brush or something. I actually called Ms. Brick from the dressing room to ask if this style of jeans was acceptable. She told me I could make my own decisions. I decided the paint brush pocket would be handy for cell phone containment.

Ms. Brick just called. I gotta go.

---

Okay, it's Wednesday morning now. At the time I felt like I had a lot more to add to this, but it took me three days to get back to it and that train of thought is long gone. Sorry. Bye.

The 'rents.

"What's this? A poker video game?"
-Mama Brick, 8/20/06

Yeah, Mom, it's a poker video game. I'm quad-tabling 2-4 against the computer. You know damn well I'm playing for actual US dollars but if you want to convince yourself I'm playing a poker video game go right ahead. I told her I play online poker "for real money" a long time ago.

Parents are goofy. They know what goes on but don't want to think about it or acknowledge it. Like when your daughter goes away to college or your son tells you he's gay. That first Saturday your nubile, 18-year-old daughter is gone you know she's out there getting wasted and blowing five guys, but since it's not right in front of you can convice yourself it's not really happening. When your son tells you he's a homo, your mind is just programmed to never acknowledge that he likes dicks in his butt, but you know what's going up there.

If my son ever tells me he's gay I'm going to say: "So, you like dicks up your butt, huh? Please be careful and use lots of condoms and lube. A lot of the gay guys I met growing up had the hiv. What? Stfu and listen to me, dumbass. It's a common fact that all men are sluts, and that butt sex has a higher rate of hiv transmission than regular sex. So you get a bunch of sluts having butt sex and a lot of scary shit is going to get spread around. So be careful and don't be stupid. Huh? No, I don't consider butt sex "regular" sex. Oral sex isn't "regular" sex either. Please shut up. This has nothing to do with prejudice against gays or any of that liberal hippie bullshit. I like gay guys as much as anyone. Saying gay men are sluts with the hiv isn't prejudice. It's just the facts. Be careful out there."

My son would probably hate me after that, because I imagine he would be about 17 at the time. That's when you're in that retarded stage where you don't know shit about shit, but have somehow convinced yourself that you are this fountain of wisdom and have learned all of life's lessons and your parents are useless amoebas good for nothing but cash distribution.

Wow, this blog post sure took a disturbing turn.

So yeah, my parents visited. My dad was in town for some astronomy club reunion and his mom (who lives 15 miles away from me) turned 100 last Thursday. So they made it a reunion/100th birthday party/visit Brick trifecta vacation.

My Grandma's 100. Holy shit. You know what happens when you get to be 100? You get your own personal podiatrist to come to your house and clip your toenails for you.

"They don't want me clipping my own toenails," she said.

I don't know why you need a full-fledged doctor to clip your toenails, but then again, I'm not a 100-year-old toenail clipping specialist. I wonder how much that costs. Grandma claimed to not know. I have no idea how the conversation turned towards Grandma not knowing how much her personal toenail clipper costs, but all I could think was: "quit wasting our money."

My parents were cool. Their presence was only somewhat annoying. My dad had the pleasant habit of leaving the air conditioner in the spare bedroom running while we weren't in the house. You think electricity grows on trees, Dad?

We went to the museum on Friday and went out for pizza. There was an exhibit about Leonardo Da Vinci. It did nothing to enhance my view of him as a genius. What I took away from the exhibit was:

Leo liked to dick around with lots of different things and had lots of different ideas for wacky machines and drew really pretty, detailed pictures and plans of these ideas. He was also a genius self-promoter. Yay.

The pizza was underwhelming. We got a thin crust supreme and a deep dish sausage. The sausage was really good (due to the deep-dishedness) but the supreme was blah. I don't get why thin crust pizza in this city sucks so much ass and is so expensive. And why do they have to cut it in squares? Cut it in wedges for crissakes. It's not cute, it's just annoying. The pizza at Sam's Club could kick this pizza's ass, and also costs 1/3 as much. I did enjoy the deep dish, though. The crust was excellent. It was like sourdough with a hint of beer. That doesn't sound good but it is.

Saturday we sat around and fought about the rehearsal dinner I was supposed to plan. Ms. Brick was mad because I was supposed to plan it and have done nothing. I'm not good at doing stuff. My mom wanted to get it figured out so she wouldn't have to worry about it and could invite her family.

I wanted to have pizza for the rehearsal, so Mom started calling the places I had listed. None of them would work. Then Ms. Brick started yelling at me. I walked out, got a Coke at the corner convenience store, grabbed the latest Onion from the newsstand, and went and sat on a bench at the train stop and drank my Coke and read my Onion. The Onion is funny. I think Ms. Brick should just chill the fuck out because we have a whole month and just because every place we called is already booked is no reason to worry. I also have to figure out the damn tuxes and figure out the damn cake. I've decided I'm going to hide in the corner under a pile of coats and hope everything works out.

I eventually went home. My parents then went for a walk in order to get away from us. The Bricks fought for awhile and then somehow weren't mad at each other an hour later. We are an interesting duo. We can have a full-blown land/air/sea battle during the ride home from the grocery store but then leave it all in the car and unload the groceries in harmony.

That evening we took the train downtown to see my cousin play violin in her orchestra and then Sunday was my Grandma's birthday party.

I have nothing more to add.

Yapping interns.

I just moved into a new building at work. Actually, it’s not a new buillding. It’s the old building. I used to be in the new building. My back was to a floor-to-ceiling window on the 22nd floor. Now I’m on the 10th floor in the old building and my back is to a wall. I no-longer have unlimited web-surfing capability because my new boss is right across the aisle. It’s really fucked up, too, because my job is exactly the same. My boss’s boss’s boss decided that my resposibilties should be shifted to a different part of the group and I should have a new boss that would now be responsible for my responsibilities.

However, nothing has changed. My new boss goes home before 6PM. I stay and correspond with my old boss (who is still in the other building) via e-mail and telephone doing work-like stuff. Awesome. It’s exactly the same as before except now I don’t get a free sandwich because my boss leaves before he can buy me a sandwich. My old boss would gladly buy me a sandwich but she is now six blocks away. At least this building has free soda. That’s going to save me about $3 a day in soda fees.

Her: "Does he buy you dinner?"
Me: "No, he goes home."

So, even though I need to pay for my own sandwich when I work late, at least there are a lot of sandwich options nearby. There's a Subway and a Potbelly's across the street, a Quizno's a block east, and you've got Uncle Steve's Deli two blocks west. One time a long time ago, back before I even moved into the new building, I walked into Uncle Steve's deli to check it out. There was an old, white, mean-looking guy standing behind the counter. "This must be Uncle Steve," I thought. I ordered a turkey sandwich. Uncle Steve stared blankly at me. I added: "...on wheat," and he proceeded to make my sandwich. I got my sandwich to go and got the hell out of there because I was scared of Uncle Steve. He didn't say a damn thing the whole time I was in there. Actually, I'm afraid of all humans. Uncle Steve was no exception.

So, while I don't like having to pay for my own working-late sandwiches, I do enjoy the free pop. Also, the free pop is on the 20th floor, and I'm on the 10th floor. It's very convenient because there is no way in hell I'm going to pay for soda when I know it is free on the 20th floor, but I don't always feel like going up to the 20th floor to get it. You see, you have to do this little elevator dance to get up there. There's no direct route to the 20th floor. You have to transfer on 14. It's annoying. So, I'm saving money and drinking less soda. Not too much less, just a little less.

Right now there is a crowd of 21-year-old interns yapping nearby. I don’t know why they chose to yap near me, but that’s how it goes. I guess this building just has roaming packs of yapping interns. Listening to them talk makes me want to gouge out my eardrums with fondue forks. The conversation is going something like this:

“OMG I’m flying tomorrow and can’t bring lip gloss on the plane”
“I lost 20 pounds. I'm awesome.”
“OMG once I lost a half pound in a day.”
“Does this hair clip make my ankles look fat?”

Did I sound this annoying when I was 21? Did I ever cause anyone to shove fondue forks in their ears? Is this how I sound to 35-year-olds? Also, did you know that you can lose a half pound in ten seconds by pissing out eight ounces of piss?

That is all.

I'm back.

"come on, Brick. There's been a lot of eventful events in your life lately and I'm sure readers want to know about them. If there any left besides me and brick2b, that is"

I have no idea when Scotty Win wrote this. I haven't been here for a few weeks. I will say that he is not incorrect. Lots of blogworthy things have happened to me during the past 1.5 months.

It's just that the Vegas trip report caused me to retire. I had this grand plan for this huge trip report. I was going to update the picture of me on the right each day, ending with this:



It's just that I hate writing trip reports. They take forever to write and I feel like they always end up being: "Then I did this. Then I did this. Then I did this." So when it came to continuing the Vegas report I just put it off because I didn't want to do it. Then I just quit writing because I hadn't done it for awhile. Kind of like going to the gym. You go for a while, then something comes up where you can't go for a week, and you quit going all together. That's how it is with me, anyway.

So, here are the edited highlights of the rest of the Vegas trip, if anyone cares:

- Scott and I made the retarded decision to meet at the Venetian, which was about 2 miles away. We walked there separately, played at separate tables, and left separately. It was all very pointless. I did make $74, though. The two choices for limit hold 'em were 3-6 and 40-80. I was slightly under rolled for the latter. Also, the Venetian does not smell as bad as everyone says it does. I caught a faint wiff of vanilla air freshener. I was not overpowered by the stench. The Venetian also earned 2nd place in the category of: "Ugliest, Most Disturbing Cocktail Waitress Uniforms."

- Cilarus owned the NL game at the Tropicana for the rest of the trip and didn't fucking play anywhere else. That's right. The Tropicana. Cilarus is gay.

- We played $5 blackjack. Every single dealer was Ethiopian. I lost $50 and somehow managed to leave and not play blackjack for the rest of the trip. Also, we didn't tip the dealers because we are stiffs.

- Alex and I went to Denny's. Alex actually asked the waiter for recommendations. At a Denny's. He decided on the Moons Over My Hammy. The waiter was also way too fucking happy, muscular, and shaved. It looked like he shaved his whole body because he had no arm hair or head hair. Did I mention he was muscular? He was built like a homo. He also danced around and was super nice and quick with the refills. My guess is that he was an underpaid dancer in one of the various stage productions around town. We left him a $10 tip on the $18 tab and were scared that the Mexican bus boy was going to take it. Speaking of Mexicans...

- Baldo showed up. He stupidly told the cab driver to take him to Paris, even though we were at Excalibur. He had to walk. He said he liked the porno cards, though. He said they were like his prizes for walking. He said he also pretended he was in a video game and they were like power-ups. That sounds like an awesome video game. "'Walk the Strip'...coming this summer for Xbox 360 and PS2."

- We played all night at Luxor. That was my only losing session. I sat in the same seat from 2AM to 9AM and lost $100. Luxor had the worst, most redneckish players I encountered the whole trip. Unfortunately I couldn't capitalize because I was fucking tired and playing horribly. I would have walked away several hours earlier about even except Alex and Scott didn't want to leave because there was this dumb high-hand promotion. The best five hands from 5AM to 9AM got a cash prize. The best hand ended up being quad fives and the guy won $500. I also felt like I couldn't leave because of the dumb high-hand promotion.

In regards to the high-hand promotion: Some red-faced guy with a Southern accent (a "redneck", if you will) to my immediate left was asking about it and the dealer and regular players covered the rules with him. The best five hands between 5AM and 9AM get a cash prize. As much as $500 or as little as $100. You have to use both cards in your hand, and the pot has to have $10 in it. They pointed out that on four-of-a-kind, the kicker plays, so if you have Q5 in your hand, and the board comes 5J558, your hand counts for the promotion, because your hand is: 5555Q, however, if the board is 5A558, your hand doesn't count because your hand is A5555 and your Q doesn't play. They also covered some of the unwritten stuff. Like if you have a huge hand and the pot doesn't have enough money in it, say something like: "How much money is in the pot?" to indicate you need a call to make the pot $10.

A little later the board comes 333TJ and the redneck has Q3. That's right, the gay waiter (or is it the San Francisco busboy? All I know is, the moron played Q3. Maybe he just likes queens with treys). The pot had $9 in it. He bet and everyone folded. He flipped his hand over. He thought his hand didn't count for the promotion because he didn't make his quads with a pocket pair. His hand didn't count for the promotion because of the $9 pot. Why was the pot only $9 you ask? The idiot felt like slow playing his monster. You know, it's always a good idea to slow play in a game where no one folds. This was after everything was explicitly covered with him. He would have won $300. So slow-playing cost him $300 plus whatever additional calls he would have surely received from flop or turn bets, had he made them. The worst thing is I had to listen to him bitch for the rest of the night. Those crazy rednecks with their limited learning, paying attention, and poker playing capacity. Gotta love 'em.

- Baldo, Scott, and I squeezed some buffet comps out of the Luxor poker room manager and went to the Pharoah's Pheast buffet. It was underwhelming. I ate lots of sausage.

- At this point I had been up for about 24 hours. Instead of taking a nap we went to play 2-4 at Monte Carlo for the last couple hours before we went home. This game is completely retarded. That is to say the game is "slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress." The rake destroys any possibility of making a profit. I actually walked away with more money than I walked in there with. I have no idea how. I was basically a zombie:

-Scott had aces cracked at Monte Carlo a couple of hours before our flight home for the second year in a row. It wouldn't be a trip to Vegas without Scott getting aces cracked at Monte Carlo a couple of hours before our flight home.

- We went home, except for Scott and Baldo. They headed off to the World Cup.

- Scott lost a lot money in Vegas.

- Everyone (Slim, Cilarus, Alex, Scott, me, Baldo) left Vegas ahead except for Scott and Baldo. Baldo didn't lose nearly as much as Scott.

- I finished the trip ahead about $200.

- You know those candies that are like a yellow ball of sugar in the shape of a chicken? Scott likes those.

Wow. That was way longer than I wanted it to be. I actually came back because I had something else to write about. I felt that an explanation for my disappearance was required, though, and that turned into the above.

Like Scott said, lots of stuff has been going on that I have been avoiding writing about. Most importantly is the impending wedding, which I haven't written about because there is so much shit to cover (pre-cana class, reception bullshit, my future in-laws' antics, getting yelled at because I haven't done anything to help, almost breaking up seven times; you know the usual stuff). That said, you might not get much coverage of the wedding because I am lazy.

Well, I did have something else to write about today but we can save that for later. Don't worry, I already have it written, so it will be less than six weeks before you hear from me again.

Day 2: Bad Beats at the Bellagio

Sunday, June 18

I wake up at 11:30AM and I am all alone. Alex slept all of two hours before heading off to the morning tournament at the Excalibur, and Scott didn't go to bed at all. He was watching soccer and playing 2-4 at the Luxor. He also placed 4th in a sit n' go and didn't win anything.

Alex ended up taking 2nd in the Excalibur tournament and won about $150. When it was four handed he had a decent chip lead and got everybody all in preflop. He had KK and flopped top set. Unfortunately the board ended up being a 9-K straight, and the guy in 2nd chip position had the lucky A. Alex was short-stacked going into heads-up play and he finished 2nd.

Cilarus had set up shop in the grand Tropicana poker room. Once again, I don't know what the hell Slim did.

I headed over to the MGM. Over the bridge, down the stairs, and I'm right there. I signed up for 3-6 and 4-8. After about 5 seconds of waiting I'm ready to die of boredom so I sit in an empty seat at a 1-2 no-limit table. Did I mention I hate no-limit? I hate all those stupid decisions you have to make. I am hoping a 3-6 or 4-8 seat will open up soon. Little did I know, the lady took me off the list when I sat at 1-2. I played for an hour, basically just check/call/folding off chips. I am able to recognize that I am at an awesome table that I could probably run over if I knew what I was doing. Alas, I didn't know what I was doing and after about an hour I was down to $53 of my original $100. Then the following hand came up:

I limped with with QJo (see, I told you I sucked) from middle position. The guy to my left limped, one more guy limped, the small blind limped and the big blind checked. The flop came J-high, all spades. I had the queen of spades. I bet $10, and the guy to my left pops it to $30. It folded around to me and I called, hoping for a spade. The turn blanked off, I checked, and the other guy put me all in for my last $23. My thoughts were:

"This guy has clearly flopped a flush. If I'm not already drawing dead I only have seven outs. I clearly have to call. I'm awesome."

I called and the guy rolled over the 9-6 of spades (see, I told you it was an awesome game).

The river gave me the beautiful 7 of spades and I took the $109 pot. I got the hell out of there with my $9 profit.

I headed north on the strip and was immediately assaulted by porn slappers. Aah...it wouldn't be Vegas without the porn slappers. Sweet! I can get Candi and Jessica both for $89. Tempting, but I have a 4-8 seat with my name on it at the Bellagio. Actually, I don't. I'm just hoping there is an open seat at a 4-8 game at the Bellagio.

The Bellagio is pretty cool. I like how they crammed thirty tables into a space for fifteen. I also like how they cram ten people at nine-seat tables.

I arrive just as they are opening a new 4-8 game at table 9 in the nook in the back left corner. I get the 8-seat, one seat to the right of a redneckish Canadian chick, and three seats to the left of an eighty-year-old nit. Seats 3 and 4 are occupied by two retarded Asian girls. I'm starting to think that all Asians are retarded. Keith Van Horn's twin brother is sitting in seat 6. Okay, let's review the characters:

Seat 1: random guy #1 (RG1)
Seat 2: random guy #2 (RG2)
Seat 3: Asian retard #1 (AR1)
Seat 4: Asian retard #2 (AR2)
Seat 5: 80-year-old nit (80YON)
Seat 6: Steve Van Horn (SVH)
Seat 7: random guy #3 (RG3)
Seat 8: me (totally awesome guy)
Seat 9: redneckish Canadian chick (RCC)
Seat 10: random guy #4 (RG4)

The game is pretty good but I don't pick up any hands and basically hover between +$20 and -$20 for a couple of hours.

I watch RCC pick up AA and it actually holds up. I get AA in the very next hand and get heads up with 80YON. The flop came K-high. I bet, he raised, I 3-bet, and he called. The turn was nothing. I bet, he called. The river was a Q, which I didn't like so I checked. He checked and turned over K-10. I win. I also suck for being a giant pussy and losing $8 on the river by not betting. This would be a recurring theme. I estimate I lost $100+ on missed value bets throughout the trip.

A short while later I witnessed the sickest beat I've ever seen in a live game. RG1 limped from early position holding KQo. Both Asian retards called. Steve Van Horn raised with KK. All three limpers called and they went to the flop four-handed. Flop comes KQx with the K of diamonds. RG1 bets his two pair, while both Asians call and SVH raises. RG1, AR1 and AR2 all call.

The turn is the Q of diamonds. The board now reads: KQQx with the KQ of diamonds.

Somehow, with one person holding KKKQQ and another holding QQQKK it is not capped on the turn.

RG1, AR1 and AR2 all check. SVH bets (he now has KKKQQ) and RG1 raises (QQQKK). AR1 folds while AR2 cold-calls two bets. SVH calls (??) and we go to the river. At this point I put Steve Van Horn on AA and RG1 on AQ or KQ. I don't know what the hell Asian #2 is doing. She probably has pocket deuces or something.

The river is the 9 of diamonds.

RG1 and AR2 go nuts raising at each other while SVH calls the whole way. I scream in my head for him to throw away his AA but he doesn't listen.

The betting is capped and the hands are revealed. Asian retard #2 rolls over the J-10 of diamonds for the runner runner straight flush and Steve Van Horn proceeds to kill himself.

I am shocked to see SVH turn over KK for top full house. I can't believe he had such a monster and didn't get a single raise in on the turn or river.

The table gave the standard "oohs" and "aahs" and three seconds later we all stopped caring and were just happy we weren't involved. Meanwhile Steve Van Horn won't shut the hell up. "I hate Vegas!" "How could you play a draw like that?" "You should give me my money back."

Seriously. He said that. We laughed.

In retrospect I guess it wasn't that bad of a beat, considering she had 8 outs on the flop and wasn't going anywhere. The turn reduced her to two outs, and a two-outer happens all the time. I guess it was the way it happened and the fact that a runner-runner straight flush beat two full houses that made it seem so bad. Oh well, gotta move on...

While Steve Van Horn sat there bitching and moaning with his face in his hands, the rest of us continued to play.

I was up a little when the following hand came up:

Both Asians and 80YON limped. I find QQ in the small blind and raise. The BB calls, as do the Asians and 80YON. Flop:

Q99. Sweet.

I bet my full-house, knowing full well that no one was folding. Much to my chagrin, the BB folded. The Asians both called and 80YON raised. My thoughts: "Sweet. 80YON has a 9, and both Asians are chasing dead-in-the-water draws. I will check-raise the turn. At least one of the Asians will cold-call. Hopefully it will get capped and one of the Asians will make a straight or flush."

Turn: Q. Fuck. The board now reads: QQ99.

I've never been so disappointed to get quads in my life. Now the double-paired board will chase away any flush or straight draws, and my action from 80YON is killed because he knows I have a Q.

I have to bet out because I know it will get checked around on the scary board. One of the Asians drops and one calls (yay!). 80YON laments his bad luck and calls. The river is nothing. I bet, the remaining Asians folds and 80YON calls. I turn over my hand and say:

"I think I had you on the flop."

The pot was still decent sized and put me up a decent amount on the session. I rack up when the button gets to me and I finish the 3-hour session +$120. Hourly rate for the trip so far $13.32. Things are shaping up.

I head back down to the Trop to meet the others. We decide the time is right for an In-n-Out run. We hop in the Malibu Maxx:



We head west on Tropicana Ave. to In-n-Out Burger. It's 4:30PM on a Sunday so I don't think it will be busy. I'm wrong. The place is fucking packed. Luckily the line is moving fast. After we order we are able to find a table. I decided to go with a 3X3, animal style, no mustard. Alex and Slim both got double-doubles and Scott got two 1X2's. Interesting choice, Scott. Two single burgers with a double cheeser. Cilarus was absent. He couldn't pull himself away from the Tropicana poker room. In fact, I don't think he played anywhere else. But I digress.

The hamburgers were good. We finished up and headed back to the strip.

Scott went to sleep and Slim had to head back home to Phx. Cilarus, Alex, and I decided to go down to Mandalay Bay. We took the convenient, free tram from Excalibur.

We got there and they had one 4-8 game going and no one is going to leave any time soon. Cilarus and Alex are immediately seated in 1-2 NL. Did I mention I hate no-limit?

I sat and waited. Alex came up and handed me his license. "Hey, ask the guy to get me a card." So I got out my license, too, and went and asked "the guy" to get us both cards.

Me: "Hi, can my friend and I get player's cards?"
The guy: "I don't do that. You'll have to talk to the guy in the tie."

He motioned towards a guy in a tie. So I walked over to the guy in the tie:

Me: "Hi, can my friend and I get player's cards?"
Guy in tie: "What? We don't do anything like that here. Get the fuck out of my face."

Okay, so he didn't say that, but that's what it sounded like. That's fine if you don't have player's cards, but you don't have to an asshole about it. I don't know who told Alex they had player's cards.

I completely turned off by the Mandalay Bay experience at this point and then I see this sign:

"$5 max rake."

That's $5 plus a $1 jackpot drop plus $1 to the dealer.

FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

Also, Mandalay Bay wins the award for "Ugliest, Most Disturbing Cocktail Waitress Uniforms."

I got the hell out of there and went to MGM. I made $30 in three hours. Hourly rate so far: $12.61

My 3 hours of play are good enough for a bag of chips and a Coke from the deli.

I am enjoying my rations and I get a call from Scotty Win:

Me: "Hey."
Him: "Hey."
Me: "I just got done at MGM."
Him: "Where do you want to go?"
Me: "Don't care."
Him: "How 'bout Venetian?"
Me: "Okay."

We will continue later in the week with:

Day 2.5: Venetian Vanilla Skies

No-limit orgy of destruction: Day 1

There were no orgies. There was no destruction. Also, I played limit. Other than that it was pretty much a no-limit orgy of destruction.

Saturday, June 17

I wake up and log on to Hollywood Poker to bang on the current bonus I am working on to help pay for a small party we are having in September (total earned so far: $3,024). Hit a royal flush (flop tptk with nut flush draw, turn the royal) and quad aces (limped with them preflop for some unknown reason, flopped quads). Got called down both times. Hopefully this is foreshadowing of things to come.

At 11AM the Ms. and I head over to After Hours Tuxedos so I can try on outfits for our party in September. We decided on a black three-button suit, which is basically just a tux without the stripe down the side of the pants or the shiny lapels. We tried it with several different vest/tie combos and tentatively decided on silver/silver for the vest/tie.

I paid the $20 deposit (or did I?) and we headed home.

I finished packing my Pokerstars duffel bag. I kissed Ms. Brick goodbye and hopped in the '95 Taurus:



I picked up Alex and our older gay companion Cilarus and drove to the Scott's. We checked out their new apartment and loaded our shit into Scott's gay Accent:



Ms. Scott drove us to Midtown Airport and we piled into Southwestern Airlines flight AAKKK.

Destination: Vegas.

Piling is how you get into Southwestern flights. Luckily Scott and I checked in early and got group "A". Cilarus and Alex weren't so lucky. They were in group "B".

Scott grabbed a window seat and I took the one right behind him. Cilarus and Alex were able to obtain the corresponding aisle seats. Fortunately, the corresponding center seats went unoccupied. The flight was uneventful until the beverages were distributed and all hell broke loose.

Scott and Alex were in the row ahead of me, which was the last row in the gay redheaded stewardess's section, and our (Cilarus and I) row was the first row of the chubby nice lady's section. Our stewardess was happily distributing full cans of pop. The greatest feeling in the world is when you are sitting on a plane and they hand you a whole can of Coke. That has to be the highlight of any vacation. Also, since Cilarus and I were in the first row of her section, we got served first.

Scott and Alex were in the last row of the gay redhead's section, so they got served last. They didn't even get whole cans. I guess the gay redhead wanted to piss off Scott and Alex after I told Scott earlier: "Sweet! Whole cans!" and got his hopes up. So Scott ended up with the 4 oz. clear plastic cup of pop. No one said life was fair.

I felt bad. When the chubby nice lady came by and asked Cilarus and me: "Can I get you anything else?" I whispered: "Can you get my friend a whole can of Coke?" and she goes: "What will you do for me?" So I took her in the bathroom and gave her a blowjob. She then gave Scott a can of Coke and everyone was happy. Scott toked me a bag of peanuts. Thanks, Scott. It's not like the stewardess didn't just give us a big handful of bags of peanuts. Oh wait, she did. Nevermind.

As we coverged on Vegas, Cilarus struck up a conversation with the gay redheaded stewardess. Butt sex did not ensue.

We arrived at approximately 9PM and were met by Scott's brother, Slim, who had just driven up from Phx,AZ in the Malibu Maxx:



We drove over to our place of temporary residence, the Tropicana, which I hear is quite comfortable. We dumped our bags and drove to the Wynn.

It sure was nice of Steve Wynn to put the parking garage right next to the poker room. Scott and I are immediately seated at their finest 4-8 table, table 22. Cilarus and Alex signed up for 1-3 NL. I don't know what the hell Slim did, but he eventually ended up at our table.

Scott was in the 2 seat and I was in the 5 seat. Right after we sat down I was immediately bashed over the head by sucking at poker. I got J2 in the big blind, flop comes JJx. The guy in the 1 seat hits his flush on the turn. The river doesn't fill me up and I pay him off. Scott starts out nicely and is quickly up $200. I start out down almost $200 and have to put another C-note under my dwindling stack of chips. How the hell did this happen? I guess paying off another $24 after my AA has clearly been beat didn't help. I'm also failing to make any draws but that's the way it goes sometimes.

Did I mention I'm seated next to the biggest whiner I've ever encountered in a live game? He was about 80 years and all of the words coming out of his mouth amounted to:

"God dammit. I had the worst hand the whole way and I lost. This is bullshit."

Yeah, man, it totally sucks that your A-10 was pretty much dead on that 9-9-3 flop and you turned a 10 and rivered an A. I don't get how you could be so unlucky. Also, never quit playing poker, please.

The complaint of the night had be when the flop came K-10-4 and he had mucked A-4. Into my right ear he barks: "Christ, I fold A-4 and the flop comes with a four. Christ." Yeah, man, I totally empathize. I hate it when I throw my hand away when I would have flopped the bottom pair, top kicker powerhouse.

I start to mount a comeback when Ted Forrest's twin brother sits down, let's call him "Jim Forrest", in the 8 seat and buys in for $400. "Whoa-hoa, look at this guy!" was the sarcastic feeling around the table. He made it a point to tell us all he was 50, retired, and usually played 30-60 at the Bellagio. Good for him. His first hand he is utg and he straddles. This should be fun. It wasn't. He actually played pretty well, much to my chagrin. In one hand I had K-10 on a K-10-10 flop. Jim Forrest had the other 10, but immediately slowed down when I showed strength. He only called me down on the turn and river instead of jacking it up. I guess he was able to deduce that I am a total pussy and only pound on a hand if I have a monster.

The 6 and 7 seats opened up and Scott asked if he could have the 6 seat, right to my left. As soon as he claimed the 6 seat, I took the 7 seat. So now Scotty Win was on my right, and Jim Forrest was on my left. Also, I finally got away from Mr. Complainy Pants, who failed to shut the hell up for the rest of the evening. He also failed to quit buying in after busting.

MEANWHILE, AT THE 1-3 NL TABLE...

Cilarus and Alex got seated at the same table and bought in for the standard. Alex won a little while Cilarus lost a little. A short while later, a dapper black gentlemen (cuff links, shiny white shoes, top coat, fancy hat), who had not played a single hand, let's call him Daddy Bling Bling, shoved $31,000 at Alex. DBB had Alex covered by about $30,900. Alex contemplates a call with QJ suited, but decides to muck. DBB claimed the blinds and now had $31,004.

Now for the rest of his life Alex can tell people: "Yeah, I was in a poker game at the Wynn and some guy shoved a new Honda Accord at me."

A little while later someone asked Alex where he was staying. "The Tropicana," he replied. Based on the person's reaction you would think the conversation went like this:

Other guy: "What did you have for dinner?"
Alex: "Maggot-filled pie. It's like regular pie only with maggots."

BACK AT THE 4-8 TABLE...

Slim showed up and took the 5 seat to Scott's right. I continue my comeback and pick up a few nice pots. Eventually I'm ahead $100 on the night and Scotty is back to even. I lose some back and at 3AM we decided to pack it in. I finish ahead $8, for an hourly rate of $2. I would have been ahead $11 if I didn't tip the waitress $3 for that strawberry daquiri. Scott was plus $17 and Alex won about $140. I can't speak for Cilarus or Slim.

We hopped in the Malibu Maxx:



and headed back to the Trop. I don't know what people's problem with the Trop is. The room was like a standard, clean, Motel 6. It's in a good location with super easy access to the MGM and Excalibur poker rooms. Completely awesome for $50 a night.

We parked the car and decided to storm the castle. Except for Cilarus. He went to bed.

It was about 4AM when we got there. The room has changed. They moved it and reduced the number of tables.

We all wanted to play the 2-6 spread game but there was only one table going and it was full. There were two others on the list and they agreed to open up a 6-handed table. They gave us this dealer who looked all of 12 years old. "Christ, we're starting a table at 4AM? It's 4AM and we're starting a table? Christ," he said, repeatedly.

The table consisted of me, Alex, Scotty, Slim, a retarded Asian, and an incredibly black obese man. Let's call him IBOM. It seemed every pot came down to IBOM and the Asian calling each other down. Eventually IBOM decided to quit looking at his cards and called everything. Alex took down a pot when IBOM rolled over a 6-high at showdown. Sweet. I decided to take off just before 7AM ahead $9.50. I would have been ahead about $50 more if the retarded Asian guy didn't crack my AQ with QJ on a A-Q-10 flop. Oh well, that's the way it goes at the Excal.

Everyone else stayed. I went upstairs to the food court to grab an Egg McMuffin, unaware that I could have gotten a $4 off coupon which would have been good for a free Egg McMuffin meal. You live, you learn.

Slim, Scott, and Alex met me upstairs a little while later, $4 coupons in hand. "Fuck you guys," I said. Alex and I headed to bed while Scott and Slim chose to use their $4 off coupons at the Round Table Buffet. They inform us later that this was not the smartest of choices.

I give Ms. Brick a wake up call and it's sleepy time. My hourly rate so far for 7 hours of poker play: $2.50.

Now, I know what you young kids reading this are thinking: "God, I can't wait 'til I turn 21."

Coming Monday:

Day 2: Bad Beats at the Bellagio.