FINAL TABLE SATURDAY...and some more Random Thoughts

Initially, this was going to be a very good entry, for a change.

My stupid idiot self managed to turn it into a somewhat bittersweet entry. But whatever, let's not be TOO negative here.

I've just walked in the door, and the first thing I wanted to do was see how many demented, sick mutants I could annihilate on Resistance 2 (PS3)...but, of course, I left the wireless controller on and it was dead. Grrrrrrrr!

I took that so badly, that I completely ignored my dogs, who were of course very excited to see me after a day of being gone. I am an awful father. I must now take a moment to go bond with them...as guilt has overcome me.

Okay. I am back. Are you here for the Poker? Or are you here for the RANDOM THOUGHTS that are quickly becoming the cornerstone of my blog? Fortunately, I think I am sober enough to actually finish this in one sitting.

RANDOM THOUGHTS:

I would like to somehow start a movement to COMPLETELY erradicate the use of all internet and text message...uh what do you call them? Symbols? No...there is a better word, can't think of it...but you will know what I am driving at. Anyone caught using LOL, ROFL, LMAO, TTYL...ANY OF THOSE...but ESPECIALLY LOL....will be summarily rounded up (herded in some cases) strapped to a wooden pole...and be sliced to shreds by people made FURIOUS by years of people "LOL'ing" at them with potato peelers. It sounds a little graphic, I know...but I am convinced that its going to take a SERIOUS form of torture to put an end to this madness. When I am playing online...and, hmmm...lets say I raise with AK...a guy calls, the flop comes A-2-8 rainbow. I bet out...and here we go.....the guy folds...and TYPES INTO THE CHAT BAR....... "LOL QJ" I experience two feelings. (a) complete and utter confusion. (b) deep uncontrolled rage. Kill them all....kill them all. Next.

Anyone check out this month's Playboy? If you haven't let me sum it up in two words with a question mark. L I S A R I N N A ?
What? I am pretty sure she is pushing 50, if she hasn't already crossed over to the 'dark side.' Great...she has kept her body together (with the aid, I'm sure of countless visits to the plastic surgeon) and still looks good. ITS PLAYBOY!!!!! I don't spend $28 annually to see LISA RINNA naked! With all the THOUSANDS of SICKLY HOT WOMEN in the world to see naked...this is who they give us? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!??????? NEXT.

I was making a pizza the other day. And on the top of my stove I see this message; "Self Cleaning Oven" Just what in the HELL does this mean? An oven that cleans itself? How? When? When we are asleep? It has little invisible dudes running around in there scrubbing the inside? Can someone PLEASE explain this to me? I went to the website for the people who made the oven...and there is NO explanation whatsoever. Are people stupid enough to buy into this? I haven't slept in days on account of this mystery. NEXT.

Anyone valet their car here in town? First let me say...in Vegas I never DON'T valet. And when I do, I always tip $1 or $2 on the way in and $2 or $3 on the way out...all incumbent upon my rate of success that day, or mood, or level of drunkeness. Wait, I never drink and drive...forget that last part. Here in Biloxi, and we are now up to 4 casinos that do this...the valet guys are NOT ALLOWED TO CARRY CHANGE! They pool. So once they GET money, its goes in a box. Fine. But you are telling me they can't keep, say...a $40 'bank' of change...so that when someone has only a $10 or $20...they can make change and not get stiffed? NOPE. Not allowed. I feel like shit when the guy can't make change...but wtf....its not MY problem is it? I wonder how much revenue they miss out on by not being equipped or allowed to make change. STUPID. NEXT.

Women carry purses, and a large percentage of poker players and other men who I don't know personally are carrying 'messenger bags' also referred to as 'Man Purses' or 'Murses' if you want to really go simple. I of course sport one. And every day I walk into the Beau Rivage, the Purple Jacket at the front wants to rifle through it. Ughhh...sigh....whatever...whats another 34 seconds late? Maybe I will miss the AA that eventually busts me out early. Yep, same stuff as yesterday sir, Book, Ledger Book, Crown bag full of every imaginable poker trinket, Bose headphones, Ipod, Phone, Wallet, gum, Final Table Monkey Beads (just in case) and glass case. No bomb. No Gun. Hey...pretty much the things women pack in their purses right? So it dawns on me. Why must we submit to the bag check...and women NEVER do, with their purses? Some of whose purses are just as big (if not bigger) than my 'murse'? Why? Well...the other day, I am in a tourney, and I see Rooster, and notice he has just become the proud owner of his own very stylish Messenger Bag. I make mention of it. Then I get a very entertaining story. Rooster, upon entrance that day, was asked to open his bag for inspection. Rooster simply replied..."NO." Whoa what? Yeah. NO! When the Purple Jacket inquired as to WHY...Rooster told him...do you check women's purses? Was told...and I quote "We are not allowed to look in womens' purses." To which Rooster replied..."well, this is MY purse" and went on about his merry way. I had to laugh. Hard actually. Then it occurred to me...had I performed this same identical act...I have a pretty good feeling that the results would NOT have been the same. Somehow I imagine someone talking into a walky talky, and troops being called in to gang tackle me and scatter all of my belongings, confirm the non-presence of any biological, radioactive, or weapon of any magnitude...before bumrushing me into the basement where some guy named Bruno comes to beat the living hell out of me. But, that is just how I run. Not Rooster. He just skips along to the poker room. Interesting. But can someone please tell me how this is NOT discrimination when they are NOT ALLOWED to check a woman's purse, but that ours are totally open season? Its bullshit. NEXT.

I've just left a message on Phil Hellmuth's wall that I am almost 99% certain SHOULD result in him removing me as a friend. I finally snapped. He is very fond of leaving mobile updates letting us all know that he has the coolest life of any human being alive and that the rest of us are just mere peons trying our damndest to be even 1% as cool as he is. So...I left his this message

"PHIL...it would be awesome to see a post by you JUST ONE TIME that doesnt involve the words VIP, JET, PRIVATE BOX, LIMO, YACHT, PRIVATE CHEF...you get my drift. We all know you are rich and successful man....do you need to constantly remind us?

Which prompted someone to add to the message thread...this one is quite funny. Hope you think so too....William Rodriguez at 12:52am April 26
" phil hellmuth is currently on a PRIVATE JET on my way to a VIP lounge on jerry buss YATCH to eat some good food from his PRIVATE chef then catching a LIMO to the local casino..."

TOUCHE.

NEXT.

PEREZ HILTON. Perez....wow. I had no idea who this fat little clown was, until I saw him on Craig Ferguson. And though he was a little over the top with his gayness, he was...oh, entertaining. Somewhat. So I thought I would buy in, give him a chance...and so I checked out his blog. Kind of funny. Definitely can see why he has a following. So what does he do? He, wait a second. Lets back it up. MISS USA? And on the judges panel....we have....WTF? Perez Hilton? How? Why? Huh? Okay, so...yeah, whatever, he is there, judging, ahem...fine ass women, of which he has ZERO interest whatsoever. Makes perfect sense, right? Every day I wake up and wait for this world to make sense, and every day it lets me down. So it's Senor Hilton's turn to ask his question of Miss California. And we all know how THAT went down. Hmmm....just how in the HELL does he even get approved to throw that drivel at her? Buddy, you are a homo, and you are going to ask a question about a gay marriage question? At a beauty pageant? And you only want to hear ONE answer, right? And when you DONT hear what you want to hear...you are going to rip this girl a new one? You, sir....are an agenda-carrying, bandstanding, biased, classless asshole. I would personally like to get all of the baddest bad ass bitches in the world together....okay, no, just FIVE of them...and put them in the OCTAGON with that little fairy, and let them have their way with him. LETS GET IT ONNNNNNNN!!!!!!!! And for the record, the fake tits that Miss Cali was sporting are horrendous, that itself was a reason to lose, forget the same sex marriage BS. NEXT!

Okay. That is it. IS this too long now to even get INTO the poker segment? Squirrel just walked in the door from work. This is either going to be a good night for Monkey, or a disaster...hmmm...anyone got a coin? I think I am going to end this and leave you all hanging! Seriously, are any of you really going to be pining for the conclusion of today's poker outcome?

I will say this. I never had a pair over 10's. I was short stack from the time I sat down until we were down to 4. I played...well, pretty damn good today. I have to feel good about the outcome. I also had another kick ass meal at the bar, by myself, at BR PRIME...and have a lot of new and exciting things to say about THAT place...and had a nice conversation with the Executive Chef for the entire Beau Rivage...Chef Joseph...ugh...last name...dammit. Forgot. At any rate. Then there was, of course, the session in the cash room, which for some reason, always seems to go the same damn way for me. Its kind of starting to freak me out. Met a cool kid, going to Flight School in Pensacola, who is going to assist me in finding a tenant for my house over there...who decided to start feeding me shots of Patron to heal the pain I was feeling from the...uh....lets call it FIVE....beats I took all on the river. Thanks Jordan...I think that was just what the doctor ordered. Then I probably should talk about my incredibly exciting week playing online. Excited, happy.....depressed, kill myself....ecstatic, hopeful....miserable, hopeless...for those of you who play online poker, you know probably how that story starts, annnnnnd you know how, inevitably it ends.

Tomorrow, I have committed to taking my dogs to the beach early, with Squirrel...in Ocean Springs, where aparantly they allow canines to frolic. Then she will bring us home, leave me here, to toil online in the big Sunday tourneys on that Donkey Site....and go meet her friends at the beach in Biloxi. Wonder which one of us will have the better day? If I am laying odds, I would say to put your money on Squirrel! But you never know!

Good night my little Monk-meisters.

Senor Monkey