Four seat: Is that you on your shirt?
Alceste: No, it’s Dr. Who
Three other players in unison: WHO?
Current points -
VinNay 13, Dawn 8
VinNay round 4 picks – LA in 5 games. Quick MVP.
Dawn round 4 picks – NJ in 6 games. Brodeur MVP.
My head to head matchup with VinNay enters the penultimate stage. We both, so far, mostly suck at this.
As a Rangers fan, I’m going with my boys in six and I’m stubbornly going to continue to ignore the Kings and pick Phoenix in 7.
The poker? I watched most of the semis from poker tables in Las Vegas where I was for @thisisnotapril’s wedding. For the second Rangers/Caps game, I had a bad feeling, so I placed a cooler bet on the Caps. I was wearing my Lundqvist jersey, so when I went to cash in my winning ticket, the cashier did a double take.
“It was supposed to jinx them,” I sighed.
The cashier shook his head, counted out my fifty bucks and said “girl. That reverse psychology stuff only works on men. Not sports.”
VinNay currently lead Dawn 6-4 after round 1 of the playoffs.
Round 2 picks are -
Dawn – rangers in 6; flyers in 6; st louis in 6, phoenix in 7
VinNay – rangers in 7; flyers in 6; st louis in 7; nashville in 6
In round 2, points are doubled. Good luck to VinNay. Dawn can suck it.
WHHEEEEEE. 36 hours or so till I’ll either be really sad with the Rangers’ performance against Canada’s capital city or really happy.
Until then, I’m passing the time, how else, prop betting with @VinNay about the outcome. We’re also playing in Astin’s Toronto based playoff pool challenge, but Astin took FOOOORRRRRREEEEVVVVVEEEEERRRRRR (read A WHOLE DAY) to set it up, so VinNay and I are doing a heads up challenge, which means I win AND I get to use my favorite tag! The rules of the challenge are extensive (I suspect Vinnay copied and pasted it from some other dude who put thought into it all) but the gist is pick the winners of each match, at each round and the number of games. One point for picking the right winner, another for picking the right number of games.
I’ve pretty much nailed the first round and I don’t want VinNay cheating off me, so I’m going to make him post his guesses in the comment section first.
Play along at home… if you dare!
Now, I’m off to the Times Square unveiling of the Stanley cup water fountain in honor of the Rangers winning the east for the first time this century!
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and whoa, what a crazy Black History Month, amirite?
I know, I know I’m a neglectful blog owner, plus I couldn’t really remember the last time I played any poker. Oh wait! Yes, I can! I beat VinNay heads up like 98 out of 100 times when he came down to NYC to visit his best friend Petitedov. My favorite hand, aside from the traditional one where he bluffs all-in on the flop and I call with pocket aces, was the one where I raise preflop, he calls. The flop is K 7 8, we both check, the river is a 3, he bets, I raise, he shoves and I insta call with my pocket threes and he has K7.
“YOU SET THE DECK!”
“Dude. You shuffled and dealt.”
Good times, good times. I only include that story so I can make use of my “Beating VinNay” tag on this post. I LOVE that tag.
But no, this story is about my return to cash games and Atlantic City. I guess I should update you all on a number of things.
First, last April I bought a Henrik Lundqvist jersey. He’s the netminder for the first place New York Rangers. I bought it because the Rangers had made the playoffs in my first year of following them and I totally wanted to wear the jersey ALL the way through the playoffs. Sadly, “all the way” turned out to be one win. One sad sad win for dudes that were suddenly sporting 70s pornstaches. No bueno.
However, I had this jersey, I was gonna wear it. So I started wearing it in the summer to play poker. I WAS UNSTOPPABLE! I pretty much cashed out $500 or more in ALL my sessions with the jersey. AND THEN when I went to play in the WPBT I decided to wear my Lundy jersey and AGAIN managed a top five cash. Naturally, even though Brian Boyle is now my favorite Ranger (I wore his jersey for the first time at Friday’s game AND HE SCORED FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR!!! Um… and that is all I have to say about that otherwise stupid, racist game.) when I decided to go back to AC, I left the Boyle jersey on the recliner and grabbed my Henrik gear.
Second, Harrah’s has changed the rewards program to make it virtually impossible for a poker player to get diamond without, basically, quitting her job and playing all day everyday. Plus, they’ve made a lot of the diamond perks “pay as you go,” so, naturally, I lost interest in it. I made it to platinum last year by one rewards tier point and my heart wasn’t even really into it. Even the Vegas perks are not what they used to be. Bah Humbug. However, I realized that I might be able to parlay my Harrah’s Diamond status into a Borgata black card — if I could get to the Borgata before April 2012.
So, with Alceste and Mary in tow, I drove down on March 25th!
“I’m sooo worried that I’m going to suck. I can totally see myself overvaluing poket pairs just because I haven’t played in three months and I’ll be all “oooh, KINGS! I’m all in!”
Mary laughed at me.
We got to Harrah’s around 11 and all three of us were seated at the same table. MY THIRD HAND I WAS DEALT QUEENS.
The weirdo old army dude in the 10 seat raises to $7. Four people call, I reraise to $25 (I’ve bought in for $100, per usual.) army dude calls, so does black guy to my right.
Flop is J T 4.
Army dude bets out $35, black guy calls. I go allin. Army dude practically insta-calls. Black guy folds.
I don’t show, the dealer runs the other two streets, 9 and 2. I’m sad about the straight hitting and get ready to show when army guy quickly turns over Ace Ten. He’s all tapping his hand so fervently that I think he’s won, but the dealer says “pair of tens.” I’m all
“heeeeeyyyy, I CAN BEAT THAT!”
I still want to vomit.
Right after that, Mary reverse Hoys some guy with the nut flush where she stacks him for $300 but leaves him with $3 in whites. L.O.L.
Alceste left to go play 2/5.
I had one interesting hand: I have 45o in the big blind. I check my option. The flop is 3c6s9c. It checks to baseball jersey guy and he bets $7, four in front of me call, so I call too. Turn is 2s. I check, so does EVERYBODY ELSE! Grrr.
River is the 9s.
Sighing, I check again. Baseball cap bets $11, it folds to me and I minraise to $22. It folds back to baseball cap and now he tanks for like three minutes and then BOOM he goes all-in for $92.
I spend about a minute kicking myself for not betting the turn. Another minute kicking myself for raising the river and then another two minutes trying to figure out what on earth he could have. I dismissed the spade flush and settled on the busted club draw and called.
Baseball cap triumphantly slams down 98off.
“What is that? Trip nines?” I ask
Dealer repeats “trip nines.”
I may have audibly snorted as I turned over my straight. Then I got accused of slowrolling as baseball guy stormed off in a huff. I didn’t respond at all, but mostly couldn’t believe that dude would shove in that spot with trip nines and not even think for a moment he might be beat. Weird.
I had a couple of more big pairs (Kings, which held up and Aces, which did not) but by the time AROD dealer sat in the box at 2, I had about $350 in front. AROD is my second most unlucky dealer at Harrah’s. His first hand he deals me pocket jacks. I lose $21 playing them to the King high flop. Then he gives me sevens, burning another $13. Then Alceste texts to see if we could switch over to the Borgata, since that was my main plan anyway.
I was UTG, so I wrote back saying “one more hand.” Yes, yes. I know. It’s like being two days away from retirement for a movie cop. I get AK and bet $7, I fold to the reraise and curse AROD dealer with my mind.
Next stop Borgata.
The list for 1/2 was ridick. I was 22. Mary was 21. So, I took that opportunity to go see about getting a black card. IT TOTALLY WORKED! I did a little dance! And about six minutes later, our 1/2 seats were ready.
Alceste and I were seated at the same table. To say I was card dead does not even begin to describe it. I posted blinds and folded for 3 hours. I was mid whiny text to Alceste at the start of hour four when I got AK in the big blind. You KNOW Dawn is having a baaad session when she’s excited to see AK. Our table was aggressive and RAN-DOM. Some dude with 2s6s would scoop a pot against KK after rivering a spade draw, despite huge bets from the kings all the way. Weirdo kid to my left would raise to $20 preflop just for the no reason. Ka-ray-zee.
Anyway, with my AK, I call the $20 raise, along with six other people, of course. The flop is uncoordinated King high. I check. Middle aged man bets $25. The guy to my right is thinking, but I don’t see his cards and move to ship my whole stack to the middle. The dealer practically tackles me.
“Not you yet!”
“Oh. My bad.”
“I guess you have it,” right guy says, shrugging as he folds.
I put my stack in, it folds back to middle aged guy — it’s not much more to him, maybe $40, but he also folds and I win my first damn hand of the Borgata session!
Shortly after that I won another hand off the cokehead Eagles fan (I called the pre flop raise with pocket tens. Seven people saw the flop of 6 2 9. EVERYONE CHECKED! Then I made the weakassiest $11 bet you ever saw when another 9 came on the turn. Only cokehead called. I checked the river 4 and he suddenly bets out $60. Meh. In King Henry we trust… call. He had ace high.)
I thought I was “on a roll!” So I called the $5 PF raise out of the BB with my pocket sevens.
The flop was 679. Not the best flop in the world, but I’ll take it. I bet $22, the swarthy man to my left pushes all-in. The dealer says “$84.” I’m like “total”? And he says “no, I didn’t pull in the $22,” and he just stares at me. I’m all “negro, I’m not here to do maths. How much more?”
Anyway, I call and swarthy man says “are you on a flush draw?”
As I’m shaking my head, another 9 hits on the turn and I breathe a sigh of relief…er… right up until swarthy man turns over 97.
Cokehead is all “ouch. That was like a three percenter!”
I go for a walk.
When I return, Alceste has a billion dollars in chips which makes no sense cause he’s not wearing any hockey jersey at all!
A couple of hands later I get pocket fours and limp in. The flop is Qh 9h 4s.
I check, swarthy man bets $30, one call and then tilting Asian dude shoves for like $120. I sit up in my chair and I’m like, what in ALL TARNATION?!!!
Swarthy man hems and haws, and then puts his remaining $70 in the middle. The caller folds. So three of us allin see the other streets. I have no idea what they were cause my eyes were shut and I was holding my breath and trying not to vomit. My set held up!
HEN-RIK! HEN-RIK! HEN-RIK!
Now, I have a monster stack, I proceed to start doing dumb things like calling raises out of position AQ off. Then having to fold to $75 bets on the ace high board to a douchbag who was probably bullying me because I had no idea where I was in the hand. I went into lockdown mode at that point. We called it early because the Borgata floor claimed they didn’t get the Rangers/Leaves game (even though the dealer assured me they were lying bags of excrement.)
So, Alceste drove us home while I sweated out the hockey game in the backseat. And even though the Leaves tried their hardest to ruin my whole life, Captain Cally bailed the Rangers the hell out and no one had to jump out of a moving car on the Garden State Parkway.
I have so much to write, so little time.
2011 is winding down and that means a mad dash rush to get enough Total Rewards tier points before the end of the year, so I don’t fall back to the dreaded Gold Card. Mary, at the other end of the spectrum, has that diamond fever which consumed me in early 2010. All of which to say, if it’s a day that ends in y, the Crackhouse crew is driving down the AC Expressway and making the hard left into the Harrah’s self park garage.
In addition to my poker problem, I’ve also developed a diamond club rolls problem.
They are SO delicious that I stuff my face with them AND stuff my pockets. Shh… don’t tell, I don’t want my access revoked prematurely. The last time I drove down with Mary, Alceste stayed behind, with what is either consumption or black plague. So, the whole way down, I played the “are we closer to Alceste or the Rolls.” The title of this game is funnier using Alceste’s real name because alliteration is always hilarious. But then he would cough his germs on me and my puny girl immune system would crumble and I would die.
Traffic was ATROCIOUS, so we spent a good THREE hours being closer to Alceste. There was a lady and the tiger moment when I had to choose the “cars only” side or the “cars and trucks” side. I chose poorly. I watched all the “cars and trucks” people whizzing by and just knew they were rushing to the diamond club to eat all the rolls. Sadly, I was right.
When I finally got to AC, the diamond club was out of rolls. I spent a lonely twenty minutes chewing on dried breadsticks just to get my carbs fix. Upside? The nice diamond lounge ladies said they liked my new haircut and glasses! Downside? I’m in that place so often, the nice diamond lounge ladies notice when I cut my hair and get glasses. Sigh.
It’s been a while (read: 10 days) since that trip, so I don’t exactly remember everything that happened… UGH, though there was some gross ass PDA at my table that I will never be able to unsee, but I know the first night I was up about a hundred after a roller coastery session, but the next morning I got that horrible bad luck dealer woman. After the first few weeks of 2010, when she consistently dealt me the second nuts, I learned my lesson and just got up from the table, whenever she sat down, and took a break. At some point in early 2011, one of the other players at the table said that when I left, the dealer announced “she hates me. Every time I sit in the box, she leaves.” I laughed and thought nothing of it, but a few weeks after that, I was actually sitting at the table (because it was my big blind and I didn’t want to miss the bad beat, if it hit) AND THIS CHICK DEALS ME OUT! I was livid and stormed away for the half. But after that day, I just decided to stick it out and just fold. Then, I got all employed and wasn’t playing at all, so it didn’t matter. Fast forward to last week:
I’m in manic hours racking mode and now that Harrah’s has these strict limitations on walking away from the table, I pretty much just sit there. Devil woman sits in the box. I fold and fold and fold, finally, I decided to give her a try with Kd5d… An awesome diamond Le Dawn. I am Big blind. Button raises to $7… heeey, that’s what *I* was going to do! So, I call. Flop is a beautiful 9d2dKh I check, some dude bets $10, call, call, button raises to $25. I call, everyone else folds. My heart is beating real fast. Turn? 7D! Huzzah! I check. Button bets $40. I raise to $100 putting him all-in. He calls with pocket tens.
I win! I win with devil woman! Oh man! Oh happy day! I win another small pot with her, decide not to push my luck and fold out the rest of her half.
ABOUT ONE HOUR LATER, she’s BACK! But hey, I’m feeling okay. The curse is broken! I have a phat stack! Third hand of her push, I get pocket eights. I call. Then old man raises to $12. Three people ahead of me call, so I call, even though I know devil woman is not giving me a set… Q89. OH. MY. GAWD!! I can’t breathe! Old man bets out $40. I immediately figure he has Kings or Aces and he’s doing the big continuation bet thing to push out the straight drawerers. I see my opportunity to double through him right now, before a scary card comes.
I shove for my whole stack, about $270.
HE INSTA CALLS! I AM DOING THE RUNNING MAN IN MY HEAD!
He flips over his cards and I hear someone say “set.” Hey, how’d they know what I have? I haven’t shown yet! I proudly turn over my hand and I hear the table groan all empathetically.
He has queens.
“Wait? Set over set?” I ask glumly.
“Yes, hon,” devil woman moves his cards closer. Better to see them with your new glasses, the devil woman implies.
She takes all my chips away.
I shoulda known.
I need a roll. Or thirty.
I’m suddenly unemployed again. Part of me feels like I have only myself to blame. Just the other day, I was thinking “awww man, the Patriots’ season opener is on Monday Night! I’m going to be up watching the game and then depending on the outcome I’ll be up tweeting “fuck yous” or “so’s your faces” all night… I so don’t want to go to work on Tuesday!
Welp. Now, I don’t have to.
(Yes, I’ve tried this kind of mind control on the lottery and Zac Efron/Ryan Reynolds…no success.)
Anyway, so back to the tables for Dawn Summers. I haven’t played poker since I last blogged…which for those of you keeping score at home, is STILL more recently than my co-blogger has blogged. Geez, if I’d known he wasn’t going to do it anyway, I would have officially released him from the obligations to blog about my trip to Buffalo and just made him blog about the male Thai prostitute in Indiana…oops, was that private?
I drove down by myself the Friday before labor day weekend. Mary had already been in AC for three days and Alceste and his girlfriend had gone down separately that morning…er…#noporno. Alceste gave me a fake room key, so I was all locked out and trying to convince the Harrah’s front desk that “Alceste could be a girl’s name,” when they repeatedly told me that only Alceste could get a new key. I finally just took Alceste’s key from him with the power of my whining and pouty girl face.
I bought in for a hundo at 1/2 and almost doubled up in the span of three hands. With 99, I raised, got four callers and then when QQT flops, one dude goes all-in for $23 and I call him. I win.
Then, with pocket threes, after everyone checks the J27 flop, I bet out when a second deuce hits on the turn and take it down.
I lost ten bucks taking a stupid flyer with 8s9s (Dawn, you’re not that kind of player.)
Finally, I raised to $11 with AQ and heads up see a flop with AJ5 and my $20 continuation bet sealed the deal.
And there my notes on the evening come to a screeching halt…why? Because I decided to bring a book with me to the poker table. A book by Joan Didion called “The year of magical thinking.” I must have been doing some magical thinking of my own because I don’t know why I would choose a book about a widow recounting the year following her husband’s death and her only child’s hospitalization for my “vacation reading.” It was a quick, heartbreaking read and I was practically in tears at the felt. (There’s no crying in poker, Dawn! Shut up! HE JUST DIED AND THEN SHE COULDN’T GIVE AWAY HIS SHOES AND HER DAUGHTER HAD A BRAIN HEMATOMA! WAAAA!)
Wayans was randomly in AC too and got a seat at my table with Mary; he was trying to talk to me, but I was so verklempt from the book, I knew if I opened my mouth, I was just going to start bawling. Plus, I started losing like nobody’s business. My pocket tens were rundown by pocket nines on a 943 flop which looks totally safe, so you call the offing minraise… then my pocket sevens ran into pocket jacks or aces or something bad and I just wanted to go to the room and cry. Instead, I ordered a glass of white wine and halfway through face planted at the table. Can we just call that “Dawn kryptonite” from now on?
Oh my gosh! I had a hilarious text exchange with Grange at the table. (Backstory: I met Grange in Iowa, almost exactly a year ago today! We had drinks at this bar and at some point, a guy with one leg sat down at the table. A few drinks in, I asked said one-legged guy “Yo, so…what happened to your leg?” Apparently, this was poor form and one is not ask one-legged people what happened to said missing limbs. So, ever since, whenever I have the overwhelming desire to ask some disfigured or missing-limbed person about their deformity, I text Grange to ask for permission.) This particular night, I was sitting next to a dude with like dinosaur scale skin. I texted Grange to find out if a) I could ask if that shit was contagious b) find out what the hell it was or c) snap a picture, so I could twit pic.)
So, the next day…
I was back at the table bright and early. I was playing with men who had been there all night and my stack was by far the smallest…it would only get smaller. I missed a draw to half the deck for $60 and rebought. UGH, then this offing luck box called with a weaker king and spiked the two pair on the turn. I didn’t feel good about calling when he lead out on the turn (I had raised his bet on the flop and he made a fishy face before flicking in a last-minute call.) And I REALLY didn’t feel good about calling his river bet which was annoyingly exactly the amount of a “damn-I-missed-my-draw” bet AND a “what-will-this-idiot-girl-call-with-her-top-pair” bet. #Newark
So, I reached into my pocket and threw another wad of bills at the dealer. She laughed and said “whoa. I guess this is your mad money!”
“It’s all crinkled and wadded up! Mad money, you know!”
I didn’t know, but I smiled anyway. The universe must have noticed how calm and polite I was to the dealer even though I wanted to smash that idiot guy’s face in, because shortly after I rebought, I got aces.
Now, the night before I got aces, UTG and decided to limp/reraise. Only problem? No one raised after I limped, so when the board came out 567, and a guy bet the pot, I minraised him. He called. I bet $30 on the blank turn and he “thought about it” and called. Eyeroll. He checks to me and I wanted to literally roll my eyes at him and say “bet your own fucking hand.” Instead, I just turned over my cracked aces and he showed the 89. The next morning Mary was all “what were you thinking?” I glared and said “shut up, Mary!” However, I had a huge towel turban on my head, that she had already been laughing her ass off watching Dawn 2 show me how the white girls wrap up their hair, so she just kept laughing. With the sound of her evil, mocking laughter echoing in my head, I did NOT fuck around with my new universe given aces:
“$21″ (I was UTG + 1, so it was $1, $2, $2, $21)
Mary reraises to $66, it folds back to me and I sigh because I assume she has aces too, but I shove my stack across the line. She snap calls and turns over QQ.
I double up. Mad money, indeed. (See what I did there?) I then went on a nice little heater, getting Kings (again raising huge) and a call/fold to my continuation bet. THEN I took down a monster pot when my nut flush got there on the turn but one idiot kept bluffing into me and the other idiot kept calling with his top two “with the Jack of diamonds.” (He kept repeating that he had the jack of diamonds as the dealer kept pushing all the monies to me! Wheeeee!)
Alceste came by and called me “stacks!” Woo. Dawn plays poker good.
The table started to get insane. One dude would do that “raise” and make it four dollars, just to be annoying; then another dude would be all “$6″ just to be MORE annoying. In this fashion, a guy in a fedora hat (who I think was a hit man) won a $700 pot from a guy who was bluffing because he thought Fedora hat was bluffing. But no. Fedora hat had “the nuts. It’s like a sore dick: can’t be beat.”
Then Mary had an ugly ugly set over set when she shoved with a set of nines and got called by a fairly deep guy who had the set of aces. She left and I ended up getting into a verbal fight with the set of aces guy, who thankfully, did not look like a hit man. But, when he threatened to drop trou, it was time for me to rack up and go.
But the poker pro career will continue…
It’s been FOR- EVER since I played poker.
Well, there was a midnight tournament on my birthday (did you remember that July is my birthday season? Didja? Didja? DIDJA?). But that tournament hardly counts because I was starving to death and all the mean people at the Buckingham Game put a bounty on my head, so that whoever knocked me out for the third and final time, would get an extra pot of cash. #RRRUUUDDDEEEE
I think it was the Crazy Euro what collected on it…so he’s DEAD TO ME! And then Eric had the nerve to be more wasted than I was AND win the dang thing! #Doublerude
But I had fun and it was a nice way to ring in my new year. Me likey my birthday! A lot. Even rainy ones when I drop my food in the street and have to eat cake for dinner.
Anyway, so it’s been a spell and a half since I had cards or chips or putz odds or anything! In fact, I was giving my co-blogger shit about not posting anything about his “poker pro” career and he immediately pointed out that he’s blogged more than I have since he joined Team IHO.
So, I set out to change all that with an impromptu trip to the Air Conditioned City with the redheads.
The EVIL redheads I should say…how is it that Alceste and Mary neither like Glee NOR Taylor Swift? What in all hell?
The day started out with me being inexplicably awake at 5 AM, even though I was out till like midnight Friday. SO, I tried to get our trip started earlier than planned. A bathroom emergency thwarted those plans, though I did finally get to see Casa de Mary. She lives in a miniture little house on the prairie and you’ve got to pump your own water for the bathroom. I have short, weak arms so this took a long time.
Then, I, evidently, decided that no one else should ever use the bathroom after me, so I locked it from the inside. And probably left the light on. And this is why I’ve known Mary for a hundred years and have never been invited to her house. #Rude
We then got sidetracked with Alceste and his girlfriend at the Pancake House. By the time we were right and proper on our way, we were smack dab in the middle of beach traffic.
We finally got to Harrah’s at 1 pm. I was first on the list. GOOD GRIEF! WHY WON’T THE UNIVERSE LET ME BE GREAT??
Ten minutes later, I got seated in the one seat at the table of death.
Actually, I think I dubbed it the “Usual Suspects” table on twitter. It was just a series of more and more bizarre characters and decreasingly awful (increasingly awful?) “poker” play.
Harrah’s Table 13, ladies and gentlemen, is where poker went to die.
My very first hand, I was in MP with 99. It had been raised to six in front of me, so I made it $16…look, I DIDN’T KNOW! Next guy calls, Black guy makes it $36, NEXT GUY makes it $90. WHHAAATTTT ____
It gets back to me, I fold, so does everyone else and the $90 guy flashes pocket tens.
The next hand is also raised and re-raised till we saw the $26 flop of 4s8cAd. $40 bet from black guy, insta call from old man. Turn is Ts. $100 bet, again insta call.
River is 5s. Black guy checks, old man goes all-in for $350. Black guy snap calls.
Hands??? HANDS? on a preflop $26 raise and re-raise?? Black guy has 3s6s Old man has As6s.
DUUUUUUUUUDDEEEEEE. I am officially terrified and begin tagging this session with the infamous #buckleup hash.
The old man is stacking his chips and taps me on the shoulder.
I. HATE. SHOULDER. TAPPERS!
“I had a good hand there, huh?”
For the next like five hours he was constantly tapping me on the shoulder.
“Oh, where did you buy that?”
Tap tap tap.
“Was it good?”
Tap tap tap.
“How much was it?”
I. AM. GOING. TO. KEEEEEELLLL. YOU! I wear earphones so I DO NOT HAVE TO TALK TO YOU! NOT TO GET POKED TO DEATH!
Then he started calling me “kitten.” O_o
“You remind me of my wife…not like your face. She wasn’t a black, but you have the same smile, kitten.”
Kill me. No, seriously, just get it over with. I’m coming, Elizabeth.
So, I get pocket nines again. I have about $111 in total. (It’s always a bad sign when I can tell you how much I have to the dollar, no? Sigh.) It’s been raised to $7, then to $15, I make it $37 PRE-FLOP. WITH NINES! OY.
I GET FOUR CALLERS. Mind you, it’s been an hour and I played just the ONE hand when I first sat down and NOTHING since! Whatever. These people are damn hell ass honey badgers, THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT.
Flop is 9c Ah 4h.
Whew. Cause honestly, I had NO plan for not hitting a set. I check. This dirty whore bets out $45. It folds to me and I double check the board, put her on the flush draw and shove. The dealer pulls in the $45 and tells her $82 more. She thinks and thinks and thinks AND THEN slams in a stack of greens to make the call.
I immediately flip my set. She taps her cards on the felt. I figure I’m dodging hearts. I fucking wish.
The turn is a Ts.
River is 8 of spades.
I’m ready to collect my chips AND THIS STUPID ASS WHORE TURNS OVER Qc Jc!
The table, EVEN THIS TABLE OF REJECTS FROM THE ISLAND OF POKER MISFITS, goes “oohhhhhhh maaaaannnn.”
SO this heiffer says “Well, I wonder what she raise to thirty preflop and say “must be pair,” so suited cards could get the bad beat.”
I want to give her a bad beat, alright.
Instead, she pulls back her greens and takes all my reds and whites. I cry.
A few hands after that, I get pocket queens and open raise the pot from UTG to $30.
Two calls. *Head desk*
Flop is A J 4.
*Throws self in front of stopped train*
It checks around. Turn is a 5 and now the black guy bets out $15. I call. The board pairs the 4 on the river and he shoves for his stack of $600. (I only have like $55 left, idiot.)
I think for a bit, but then dude starts chirping and I insta-fold. Now, I am become tilt, destroyer of bankrolls.
My next hand is 9hTh, I raise to $15 — I get 1800 callers, so when the flop come s A 9 Q, I shove.
It folds to evil stupid heiffer and she goes into the tank for like FIVE minutes. I’m like “NOOO!! I cannot get stacked by her TWICE!”
Of course, she slams her chips across the line to call.
I am just about to start crying, Buffalo Style (Fo Real), when the dealer puts out a T on the turn. SANKS GAWD!
River is a blank and I show my two pair.
*SHE* gets all pissy and goes “A nine? I thought you had my ace outkicked.”
So I get pissy right back, and I’m all “You thought I had you outkicked? Good call then,” and I rolled my eyes.
The black guy, whose name was Tony. Know how I know this? Because every hand (which he played) (oh, not “every hand which he played,” “EVERY HAND. BECAUSE HE PLAYED EVERY. HAND.)) he’d be all:
“ahh you were setting a trap for Tony.”
“You try to make Tony eat the hook and fall in a trap.”
“Oh, you were waiting for Tony in a alley for him to ride your horse.”
Wait. WHAT? ARRRGGGHHHHH. I want Tony to shut the eff up!
Then there’s this crazy hand where heiffer has reraised to $40 preflop and three people call her. The flop is
She bets $30, Tony raises her to $65. She calls.
Turn is 6s.
She bets $50. Tony raises to $125. She re-raises to $250, he shoves for like $700 more because they are both super deep.
She goes into the tank and again, Tony starts chirping. “Oh, if you’re thinking this long, I definitely win. ” “Oh, still thinking? You had nothing over there, huh?”
Blah blah blah until dumb ass heiffer finally says “Call.”
The pot is ridiculous and I die inside knowing that one of these idiots is going to collect it.
River is the Ah and Heiffer turns over AK. Tony, of course, angrily shows the flush and starts berating her play. She, of course, believes she is a genius.
My next playable hand is pocket tens and I hit a set on a flushing board. I double up on the turn, when some middle aged dude reraises me on the turn. The board, harmlessly, pairs on the river. YAY!
I was playing super tight, 1. because that is my way and 2. because this table was the fourth circle of poker hell…there was no reason to do anything but play ABC and pray.
I started flopping sets like it was my job AND getting paid. It got to the point where I’d look at my pair and be like “okay, so how am I going to play my set of sixes…” And then the flop would come 6 5 5! And I’d be like “A Boat! Nice!”
I managed to leave with a tidy profit, as did Alceste and Mary.
“Hey, we’re all leaving up. It’s been a long time since that happened,” Alceste commented looking at me judgingly.
“Yeah, I’m usually the dead weight.”
And then Mary said that next time they were going to hit me in the head with a shovel.
Seriously, folks, do not lock Mary out of her bathroom. She goes all zombie apocalypse on your ass.
VinNay fixed it so I can blog as Dawn Summers again. Yay!
Ah, is there an IHO tournament if there’s no birthday to be celebrated? Well, yes, sometimes there is, but other times we get a fancy homemade chocolate cake (I made the frosting. No matter what anyone says to the contrary.) and THREE, yes THREE birthday boys!
Flynn and Alceste (not pictured HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)
OH MY GOSH! And Alceste’s girlfriend, Dawn 2, the one who made the cake (but NOT the frosting) made her debut at the Crackhouse! No, seriously, for like seven years we’ve been trying to get her to play, but turns out she was just waiting for Alceste to turn 40! O_O (N.B. While it is amusing to joke about other people turning 40, it is not amusing to joke about Dawn turning 40. She will cut you. -Ed.)
Okay, I am stalling a bit cause it’s been awhile and I’m trying to remember the poker. I remember the cake! YUM! And I feel like there were also cupcakes…man, this place is where diabetes finds its soulmate.
Dawn 2 played with a cheatsheet that Alceste made up for her, we warned her that Mary would give her about two rounds of “oh, is it my turn?” before the stabbing starts. Dawn 2 picked it up very quickly and was soon scooping pots with A4. To which Alceste remarked “hmm…calling a raise out of position with A4? I did NOT write that down for her.”
HOLY SMOKES! I almost forgot the hugest hand of the night…but didn’t because it was SOOOOO monumentous that I took a picture:
Long time readers of this blog are familiar with the term “The Alceste suckout,” i.e. no matter what I have, Alceste ALWAYS has me beat. I could have a Le Dawn on a KKQ board and stupid Alceste WILL have KQ. I could have jacks, he has aces. It never fails. He always Alceste sucks out on my monster hands. So when I re-raised him from the button and he shoved all-in, I reluctantly, sadly, pitifully put in my last 2000 in chips and called with AK.
DUUUUDDEEE HE HAD ACE QUUUEEEENNNNN!!!
As you can see, I flopped the King right away and doubled through him. He busted to Petitedov shortly after that. KJ, as per usual, came late and quietly hid in the corner until after the cake break, at which point he sprang into action and busted two players at once.
OH, this was also the first time, I could remember, where the tournament had more women than men at the start. I foolishly said “if one of us doesn’t win, we should be shot.” How could I forget that KJ is just too good.
We played four handed for a level, with KJ mostly stealing all the blinds, until someone wisely suggested a chop. KJ took mercy and Edgie, Mary, KJ and I split the prize pool for June. And Dawn Summers could afford to pay the light bill!
Hope to see you all at the July Buckingham Game, conveniently taking place on my birthday!