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Monday, January 26, 2009

Land of the Lost Part XIV 

I've been cruising around the Borgata tournament room where I more resemble the poker widows in the halls then anything near a poker person. I try to time my smoke breaks so that I can beat them down to the smoking corner to avoid any unneccesary questions where I prove the point that I know nothing about nothing. I'm more at home with the 6am drinking dregs then anyone else. At least during the Main Event I don't have to deal with hearing a lemur scream every 5 seconds "how can you call with that!". Day 1a was dominated by the local, older rocks as the young guns spent their Sunday playing in the online majors. Today the internet player descended upon the room and have no regard for a slow structure and deep stack. 300 big blind call with AQ? It always works online so why not here?

Live poker is rigged.

I've been entirely too sober since the Main Event started and I'm back to my standard diet of a little crap food then nothing else. Except nicotine, the phantom food group.



Say hi to Trevor and Katie. Trevor is from On a Fold Draw and Katie from Katie Uber Alles. I ran into them Thursday evening. Or Friday morning. The picture is from the B-Bar, taken after I over-indulged in booze then played some donkey 3/6 LHE with The Rooster then I re-over-indulged back at the B-Bar. The timer on the camera indicates it was 7:30am when the picture was snapped, technology rules over fuel soaked memories. They caught up with me and asked if I was Al from some random donkey blog. I never get Dr. Pauly'd so I took the chance to pour drinks down all three of our gullets until the 8am hooker shift took over and I ran for my bankroll's life.

Since then I've avoided all possible temptations except Panda Express in the poker cafe and the shitty pizza in the tournament area. My worst beat so far was them running out of hot dogs on break leaving my only option being some pizza crust wrapped hot dog abomination. I do recall having a beer at dinner the other night but that barely counts towards my maximum suggested daily allowance of alcohol. So I sit here during the dinner break mindlessly typing away, giving the impression that I'm working lest a lemur stop to ask if I am "Information". Not that I'm not hungry, but because the kitchen will now be full of grazing donkeys, those with opposable thumbs will be using chop sticks, and I'd rather be here when the room is empty. The tournament director will not let the dealers riffle chips because he hears it 14 hours a day. This fat boy can live on Red Bull, soft pretezels and a steady diet of bran muffins.

I do, however, love the Borgata waitresses, they just happen to be camera shy even with my media/photo badge hanging around my scrawny neck. And my new favorite poker player will probably have a restraining order issued any moment. Maybe she is speaking with law enforcement instead of going to dinner. I have one more day to survive and I can crawl back into small town drinking

I did happen to buy a new digital camera before coming down which is coming in handy. Looong distance zoom and excellent low light shooting help in stalking situations. I snapped the picture below at the pub. Three of my favorite things, two covered in satin and one in glass. I have a few other rated R pics that I'm not sure I can post until I have permission.



Don't cry for my sobriety, that situation will be corrected shortly after play ends for the day. I'm not afraid of what will happen to my liver, but the last time this happened I burned off a good chunk of bankroll playing drunken donkey poker.

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