Saturday, August 28, 2004

Damned Hilton Sisters 

I had an idea to write a fun little post this morning. I had a head full of sweet metal when Pauly mentioned the $5 multi on Party. I figured I couldn't do any worse than my last multi when I busted out on the first hand.

From Drizztdj in my comments:

Al I tried to say hi at the morning multi Saturday on Party but there was a number next to your name after the first hand...

Yep. One and done. QQ got me again.

Later, Pauly talked me into a 3 table SnG. Early on, the damn Hilton Sisters bit me again. This time against A6 calling a big raise.

Just a head's up for the blogger tourney tomorrow, I shall be folding QQ preflop every single god damned time.


I'll try again tomorrow for the post and a good showing at the multi.


Thursday, August 26, 2004

Truly random junk 

De Gaulle proclaimed from City Hall: "Paris! Paris outraged! Paris broken! Paris martyred! But Paris liberated! Liberated by itself, liberated by its people with the help of France's armies." He did not mention the Allies who had invaded France on June 6 (D-Day) and opened his way to Paris. De Gaulle led a liberation march down the Champs Elysees on Aug. 26.

Reuters article

On behalf of my grandfather, "You're welcome"


This will be a wee itty bitty post. Fantasy football draft plus work until midnight last night. Thanks to the my readers (plural, I think I've moved up to 3 readers!), I've was forced to post instead of preparing for the draft. I hope you appreciate it when I lose again this year. psst, Party Bonus Code IGGY


Nothing terribly exciting in the drinking world Tuesday night. DJ Steve showed up in a shirt that looked something like this. Remember those pictures? We told him we could see the sailboat and he didn't think it was that funny.

Editor's note: if you want to see the ugly shirt, click here.


I'm sure everyone has seen the ESPN article about poker and gambling addiction. Here's the link if you haven't seen it. I missed the story on SportsCenter last night but I assume it was the same information.

It all began innocently enough, he says, watching modern-day Mavericks of the felt table living the lives of the old frontier, reaping the glamor and riches that come with winning the next big pot. If only it were so easy.....

....Yes, poker has surpassed Paris (no, not the city) as the hottest five-letter word in America....

....Chris "Jesus" Ferguson, the 2000 World Series of Poker champion who lost his first game of poker and the 35 cents that went along with it in the fourth grade, says that he doesn't believe kids should be told not to play poker.

Like a wise man once said, "Bring 'em on! I need to get paid."


Short pimpin'

Felicia has a really great writeup about her visit to Sam's Town.

Pauly has his New Mexico casino trip report posted. Looks like Haley could teach him a thing or two about poker. Just like the wifey teachs me.

HDub has another stellar post. When I grow up, I want to be a poker player / writer as good as Dub.

87 players for Iggy's Sunday tourney. Good lord.

Grubby has an interesting posted titled, "Mie N Yu and a dog named Morocco".


I have absolutely no energy for this today.


Alright, I said no more political stuff but I also want to be like Scott. And this cracked me up. A story(?) by Joe Mariani about John Kerry having a letter hand delivered to Bush.

So why a hand-delivered letter? Did Kerry forget the password to his email account? (Hint: try "ketchup") Couldn't he wait three days for the Post Office to deliver it? Perhaps Kerry never heard of Federal Express? No, nothing like that... Kerry callously used wheelchair-bound Vietnam veteran Max Cleland, a man who lost two legs and an arm in Vietnam, as a photo-op delivery boy, just to stir up your emotions. What an incredibly low opinion Kerry seems to have of the American public. "Oh, that poor guy," you're supposed to say. "He has to deliver mail for Kerry because Bush is so mean. I'm voting for Kerry now!" (If this "thought" actually did cross your mind, please stop reading this now. Really.) And Cleland is allowing Kerry to use him, his disability and his Vietnam service just to score political points.
/end politics


Now this is a study I can really get behind from Philly Magazine.

This year, for the first time in this magazine's history, it was decided that we would send some poor slob on the ultimate cheesesteak safari. One man, 34 days, 50 cheesesteaks....

The rules are simple: Over the next several weeks, I'll visit 50 cheesesteak places in Philly and the suburbs -- spots recommended by friends, relatives and co-workers, and random choices inspired by the phone book.


"If you are listening to a rock star in order to get your voting information on who to vote for, you are a bigger moron than they are. Why are we rock stars? Because we're morons."

"Besides, when I read the list of people who are supporting Kerry, if I wasn't already a Bush Supporter, I would have immediately switched. LINDA RONSTADT? DON HENLEY? Geez, that's a good reason right there to vote for Bush."

-- Shock rocker ALICE COOPER.


It's Thursday.

Booze - check
Carton of Marlboro - check
Camera - check
Monkeyboy and Jr. - check

Tomorrow, assuming I once again survive, should have a very nice post. It promises to be a good night.


Two days. I go without posting for two days and I start getting crap. The was the longest hiatus in 6 months. So you get what you ask for.

Thanks for stopping by.


Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Dewey Beach..... 

....or Where I Became a Raging Alcoholic!

Cubanlinks.org had a post yesterday which cracked me up:

Last week this site was pimped by two giants of the poker blogging
Iggy and Al. Paraphrasing one of the more overrated but nonetheless funny SNL skits of the early 90's: I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!

I'm a giant? Ah, I get it. Another fat joke. Iggy's the poker blogging giant and I'm just giant.

Great stuff. Everyone is worthy.


Browsing his site and checking out the pics, I came across two that made me smile and brought back great memories. Some were even blog worthy.

I'm going to do some Sherlock Holmes style deductions. Our subject lives in DC, the two pictures are titled "Dewey" and "Starboard". I have spent many drunken afternoon/evenings at a bar called the Starboard in Dewey Beach, DE. Which is frequented by many from the Baltimore/DC area. Elementary my dear Watson, our boy has spent some time in my old stomping grounds.

Dewey Beach is a sparkling jewel sitting in the southern part of a crappy little state. Delaware bars still close at 1am so it's surprising to find a place like Dewey. When I heard the E! Wild On was doing a piece in Delaware, there was no doubt where they were going.

A little over a mile of nothing but bars, resturants, and hotels/rentals. Even blazing drunks need to eat and sleep sooner or later. The beer pretzels and passing out at the bar do not count. Usually.

This little drinking rep mine started way back in the early 90's and included more trips to Dewey than any other place. My friend Tony and I were working nights and had 3 or 4 day weekends. We would leave work at 9am and drive straight to Dewey. By the time we got there, the bars were opening for lunch and we were ready to drink.

It never really occurred to us to find lodging before we started drinking. Odd. That came back to haunt us many times.

Places I've slept after a binge at the beach.

1. Crusty roach-laden motel
2. Pontiac Trans-Am with beach towels rolled in the windows to keep out the morning sun
3. The Cape May - Lewes ferry
4. On the beach, unfortunately below the tide line.
5. Hotel elevator

We often got lucky when the hotel across the street from the Rusty Rudder (aka. The Crusty Rubber) would have rooms. It was just a matter of negotiating across those 4 lanes of drunk drivers.

It was not uncommon for us to show up during lunchtime at the Lighthouse, sit on the deck, and order the waitress to bring us a different shot every 15 minutes until one of us passed out or fell over the rail. You've probably heard or said something like this but we actually did it. I drank some of the nastiest, foulest concoctions ever produced. But only once did either of us pass out.

Saturday afternoons on the deck of the Rudder watching the boats, women, reggae band, etc. The Delaware bars early close time required an adjustment to the regular schedule. Drink early, drink often. 1am comes quickly. Being looped up in the noon day sun made for some interesting times. While 'normal' people were coming and going after eating lunch, there we sat drinking as many rum runners as possible before breaking the seal and lining up with the masses.

People dancing on benches, drunken frat boys falling over the railing into the bay, bizarre mating rituals. There was a guy on his hands and knees begging for a dance only to be rejected by the lovely lady but getting a standing ovation from a table full of girls then getting rejected by them also. OK, it wasn't just some guy. It was Tony.

Before you know it, the sun is down, the girls are back for a night of dancing, and the run rummers (not a typo) change into shots. In the middle of summer, there isn't a lot of time to fool around between sundown at 1am. Once the ugly lights kick on and they roll you out the door, it's time to hit Grotto's for the best boardwalk pizza in the land.

Every bar on the strip has just dumped a couple of thousands patrons into the streets without the thirst satisfied. People stumbling up the middle of Route1, pleading with cops for a ride home, and friends doing the fireman carry with their friends down the sidewalk.

That's when it's time to find a party. It's never really that tough. Sometimes we would hang around for a couple of drinks, sometimes until the weekend was over. It depended upon the booze and the talent. Eventually you would have to find your way to the hotel OR find a hotel willing to let a coupla drunk bastards into their rooms. That's why I have the bizarre list of places I've slept. No rooms at the Inn.

Sunday morning usually started off with Sunday Bloody Sunday 'brunch' at the Starboard. Brunch entailed eating the celery out of your Bloody Mary. After a couple of Marys, and you swore somewhere in the world it was Happy Hour, you grab your first bucket of 'Rocks. Never a big fan of Rolling Rock, but it was cheap, and still too early to hit the shots.

It must be said that my drinking abilities were just beginning to emerge but I was still unable to start drinking the nectar until the afternoon. But soon I would have my full Jedi / Iggy powers.

Dewey was a wonderful place for a mid-20's guy to kick back and party like a rock star.


My original Dewey Beach post was much better and longer but GODDAMNED blogger ate my post.


September 25th I will be reliving those days. Come on up!


On the poker front, before last night the wife had never played online with real money and was starting to jones. Since Pacific was kind enough to throw the $25 in my account, I logged in and signed her up for her first SnG. Oops, for a Limit SnG.

No matter for her because superwoman turned around and won her first SnG. Not bad. She's batting a thousand.


Iggy has rescheduled the Pacific tourney for this Sunday at 9pm. My bounty becomes a little easier since I have a Phillies game on Sunday which means drinking starts at 11am.

If you did not sign up for the original tourney (Jerry), Iggy is allowing more signup's with a deadline of Wednesday, 6pm. Jerry.

It looks like BigMike is going to make this one so I'll go ahead and put another bottle of Soco on his scalp.


My favorite referral from last week. She's Icelandic, I have no idea what she saying. But good god almighty is she a cutey. The only words I've been able to determine talk about Icelandic cocaine. Little help?


I threw some Monkeyboy and Junior pics on the image gallery from the Petey and the Bandcampers show. I only had a couple but these two I like. Papa and Jr. renunited at the bar. And hanging with a cutie (not me, moron).


Have a good day and thanks for stopping by.


Monday, August 23, 2004

Booze, Borgata, and Bumblefoock 

So much to write about (including Pacific Poker sucks). I'll start off with the Friday night booze fest.

It had been a very long week even for me. 3 straight night of going out and we were all pretty beat. Work was dragging so we decided to hit the deck at little early. Nothing major planned. A couple hours of relaxation that home for a quiet weekend. Right.

At 4, the deck is pretty quiet. The sun is up, the birds are chirping, and we have no idea what the night has planned. Becky is sober. Landow and Lewey, also still sober. (Gentleman, meet the newest Boathouse employee, Bridget).

By the way, I'm trying really hard to put the pieces together from that night. Maybe this explains it. Pete spilled his Soco. Oh the humanity.

Fast forward 5 hours. The short stop to the bar has turned into a mad mix of booze, poker talk, and dancing Becky.

Becky 4pm >>> Becky 11pm
Al 4pm >>> Al 11pm
Lewey 4pm >>> Lewey 11pm

Many beers, shots, and bottles of Soco later. Lewey decides that it would be a great idea to hit the Borgata. Not on Saturday. Right then and there. Considering none of us had sobered up enough yet to drive home, we made the decision to wait until Saturday morning.

Goldschlager + greasy diner food = taxi driver Becky.


Alright. Enough of that mess. There are two things that will get me up early on a Saturday morning with a hangover. Golf and poker.

At 7am, we get a wakeup call from Steve and make our plans.

Lewey and his gang were heading down ahead of us and followed closely behind. Thank god for the wifey, she drove while myself and Steve passed out for the two hour ride.

At 10:30am, the board for the NL table was already 12 names long. 15 minutes later they opened another table and all the NL players in our group ended up on the same table.

For those who worry about collusion amongst us, you needn't worry. I wanted their money more than anyone. They've taken enough off of me in home games. Plus, I very rarely even spoke with them since I was in 4s and they were at the other end.

1s and 2s were moving players in and out the entire time so nothing note worthy there. Except for South Philly Italian guy who spent a couple of hours at the table.

We've been playing for awhile and the table is ridiculously tight. Asian guy in 3s and I are chatting and having some fun. I mentioned playing UTG in the dark a couple of weeks earlier and he challenged me to do it again. Mr. South Philly didn't seem to like the idea at all.

So what's a guy to do? I announce that I was playing the hand blind on the button, everyone looks at me like I'm a idiot (and I am). It FOLDS around to South Philly guy. You read correctly, maybe they didn't believe me but it folded all the way around to 2 off the button. Now that's a tight ass table.

Mr. South Philly grumbles and raises 7.5xBB. 3s folds and I cheerfully call. And the blinds fold. This should loosen them up. Flop came out with an ace. Really grumpy Italian guy shakes his head and checks. I can't make this stuff up. I threw out a pot sized bet and he mucks. Incredible. He flipped 'em to show me a small pocket pair. Me? Do you really want to know?


Now he's steaming, the table is laughing, and people start ordering beers.

My job here was done.

Unfortunately, there were only two other hands of note in nearly 6 hours of play. The rest of the time, I spent folding. I think I had a half dozen decent starting hands the entire time and I misplayed AA on one of them.

QQ in MP. I raised it up pretty well and only had one caller. The infamous Lewey. These things never ever go well for me. Jack high flop and I tossed out what would become known as my Weapon of Mass Destruction. The one black $100 chip in my stack. Lewey folded. He told me later I had him beat pre-flop and he just wanted to see the flop.

QQ again after I've been stuck in a battle with the new guy in 3s. I re-raised him preflop and a beautiful Q hit the rainbow flop with junk around it. He made a good size bet and I just smooth called. Junk on the turn and he checked. Interesting. I'm thinking he's holding the other Q with a big kicker. I bet hoping for a check/raise but just got a call. When the 4th wonderful Q hits the river I was golden. I don't think I reacted. He checked and was already mucking his cards. I just smiled and asked if there was any bet I put out there that he'd call. $5? anything? He laughed and asked if I'd show him my Q. When I showed him both lovelies, he knocked the table and grabbed the nearest cocktail waitress.

And then nothing. Some river beats but mostly just god awful cards. The flops were missing my playable hands by miles. My small to mid pocket pairs were pounced on by horrible flops. At one point I tried to calculate which was greater. Cocktail Waitress tips or the rake I provided to the casino. I'm thinking the tip money was greater. (for those interested, the rake is 10% up to $4 which isn't too horrible once the table loosened up)

Midway through the session I received a call from our favorite NYC blogger. That was pretty cool. He called at a time when I needed a break from the table. I also got to tell him about seeing the Hilton sister a few times. Good times. I hope he's getting plenty of relaxation in New Mexico. What else is there to do?

All that added up to me losing my entire bankroll. Nuts. Just to prove it wasn't just me, the wifey lost her bankroll also. Double d'oh.


A funny side note to the game on Saturday. I've mentioned previously about the attractiveness (is that a word?) of the wait staff at the Borgata. I've never had a problem with the service and they're always nearby. Which also means they're somewhat intelligent.

A wonderful blonde waitress came over to take my order while trying to keep herself 'in' her little uniform. Heaving is the word I'm looking for. She asked me if I needed anything else. Being my suave and charming self, I joked that I was running low and could use some more chips.

As she handed over my drink later, she mentioned casually that she couldn't find any chips but would look again. Wha wha wha? 3s started laughing.

The bewildered look on my face must have registered with her. "You were talking about potato chips, right?"

That's me, Mr. Smoothy with the ladies.


Now comes the fun part. It's too bad Iggy has taken all of my thunder. I was ready to blast away at Pacific Poker.

Screw it. Just a little blasting.

Iggy spent the last couple of weeks arranging the huge Monty Memorial Poker Blogger Tourney. What happens when 75 blogger / readers show up for a 9pm poker tourney on a site that doesn't list the tournament?

First, you get some really interesting chatter in the Yahoo chat room.

Second, the site gets slammed by 50 bloggers who read, write, and play poker a crap load more than your average online player. Add the other 25 readers who got screwed and Pacific Poker has a problem.

Pacific Poker has made an attempt to remedy to the situation. Per Iggy's post, they are adding $25 to each account that was registered for the tourney. Also, they are going to add $500 to the prize pool should Iggy decide to reschedule it.

This basically sounds like the idea I brought up last night. The $25 in everyone's account makes the tournament a freeroll, plus they're adding to the prize pool.

I'll give them one more shot.


Overall, it was a blast of a weekend even with the screwed up tourney last night.

Many thanks to Iggy for setting it up and for all the followup work done.

Sorry for the shabby writeup again. Work work work.


Weekend preview 

A have a ton of stuff to writeup this morning. It should be posted later.

1. Drunken friday night with girlies and booze. Somewhere around 9pm we decide the Borgata is a great idea.

2. 7am wakeup call and off the Borgata.

3. Quad Queens

4. Pacific Poker blows hardcore.

Check back later.