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Saturday, April 10, 2010

If only Lewis and Clark had turned right.....

Okay, so you are asking yourself, right now...I imagine...."Huh? Lewis and Clark? Wtf kind of reference is that?"  Am I right?

Probably. Its 10am. I was woken up by a collection agent. Well, sort of. Remember a few months back when that jackass from Chase was calling me at 7am (thinking it was the Credit law required 9am) to 'remind me' that I hadn't made a payment? And I went off on the guy? Threatening to hunt him down and fire bomb him in his cubicle? This, while I was Las Vegas...to which I awoke the next morning to a call from my lovely wife...asking me to explain why their was a bomb squad at the house, complete with bomb-sniffing dogs. Oh. Ooops.

Well those people are at it again. Only this time, they have sold my account to a collection agency. These are...in my line of thinking, the biggest bunch of weasels, vermin...scumbags...that live. For you to sink so low in life...that you end up working at one of these credit whorehouses....you have officially hit rock bottom. Occassionally Squirrel will happen upon me talking to these wastes of human DNA and say something like..."Will! Those are people with feelings you are talking to...quit being so mean." To which I usually respond with something like this...."Uh...honey? That is where you are wrong! These people turned in their human being card when they reached the murky depths required to work for a collection agency. They are NOT humans! They have no soul. No dignity. They are the enemy. Of mankind. You WILL loathe them, as I do. You will fantasize about them...as I do...being duct-taped to a light post in town square...while people gather around to throw rocks at them, or peel them to the bone with vegetable peelers. I demand it! Now be a good wife and jump on board!"

So...yes...after walking out of the Harrah's Casino on a Landfill here in St. Louis at 4:18am...having just participated in a 3 hour SNG...thats right...we started with 1500 chips. And when me and the other guy decided to finally chop it up with blinds at 1000/2000 (thats insane!) I had recovered some of my pride, and a good portion of my devastated confidence and bankroll....I got to walk into my room and attempt to put the finishing touches on my Master's Pool...which I have spent 8 hours working on in the last two days. We got a record number (138) of entries this year...which destroyed last years record of 88 by fifty!  Sleep came at about 5:30am.

(I am watching some stupid movie on HBO starring Robin Williams playing a totally gay...and by gay I mean queen-like....man in some terrible movie. What IS this? He is totally unconvincing. And in a twist of irony, his character is trying to 'train' his other fellow actor to be a better gay guy. That actor happens to be one of the most flaming actors in Hollywood...name is escaping me. Oooops, sorry for the sidebar)

So, when my phone rings at 8:27am...after about 3 hours of sleep...and I hear...."Please hold for an important message......" I flipped out. Do I wait for the person to come on the line and freak out on them? Or just hang up? Who actually sits there on hold, waiting for that collection cum bucket to come on the line? Oh...gee, I'm on hold...guess I'll sit here and wait.

I like my coffee with a lot of cream and a fair amount of sugar.  Thanks.

That was almost a non-sequitur:

1 results for: non sequitur

Main Entry: non sequitur !n@n-!se-kwu-tur



Pronunciation: \ ˈnän-ˈse-kwə-tər also -ˌtu̇r \


Function: noun


Etymology: Latin, it does not follow



2. a statement (as a response) that does not follow logically from or is not clearly related to anything previously said

Okay...I know, you're like..."what the hell is going on with Monkey today?" Am I right? Now just when you think I have lost my marbles....well, okay, I can't possibly make you think otherwise can I? Not even sure I can convince myself that I havent...but there is some basis for the non-sequitur reference...and the whole Lewis and Clark headline today.

I think.

I did a lot of chatting about my blog yesterday and last night...and made a lot of promises about a forthcoming blog today. So in that respect, I guess we have the Collection cum Dumpster to thank for waking me up this morning, because had I shown up for todays $1k at noon, and seen some of you, and had to listen to you ask....."Hey Monkey, I went to check out your blog this morning and didnt see an entry for today" about 26 times...chances are I would have taken out a sock...filled it up with nickels, quarters and dimes...maybe even some pennnies, and got someone to beat me about the head, face and neck until I succumbed from the thrashing.

Oh yeah...yesterday I hit that threshold...that threshold where I simply cannot hold any more blog relavent material in my tiny little brain. Promises were made. Photos were taken. Enemies were made. Villians were cast in my 'yet to be produced' feature film titled..."When Monkeys Attack!" Ohhhhhh yeahhhhh yesterday was a landmark day in the life of Monkey.

There is so much to write. So much to share. But alas...I fear it will just run on and on and on. Plus...I have yet to have a V8 today. Or flossed. Again...a non-sequitur. Recognize.

Lets talk about Lewis and Clark. I think it was about 150 years ago...when they came to this area of the country...and saw two gigantic rivers...the Mississippi, and the Missouri. Not sure when or where they picked up that chick Sack-a-ja-wee-uh...the Indian broad who would, legend has it, provide them with their need for entertainment in the boring parts of the trip...and I'm sure there were plenty of those....but they did and she led them on a path that would lead them to the west. Which, I guess is why they call St. Louis the Gateway to the West. I think. One of you history bufffs who reads this is sure to respond, calling me a complete dipshit, and that's just fine. I'm not averse to learning some history, and also, it tells me you're out there!

So...as I sit here, breaking these people down the last week...the thought occurs to me, were these the offspring of the people who refused to follow the masses to the west? What would have happened if Lewis and his traveling entourage had decided to stay put here? Or even worse, hung a right and went up the Mississippi instead of the Missouri and ended up in Minneapolis or Chicago instead? Had they stayed here...and maybe gotten into the casino business...would they have all the stupid rules here that make no sense? Would St. Louis instead be called St. Lewis? Or St. Clark? Or Clarksville? Or Sackajaweeuhburg? History could have really been different.

This really happened within a fifteen minute time frame yesterday at 10:17pm. I am sitting in the Mega satellite for today's $1080.

Oh lets cover that real quick. I hovered around 5,000 chips for the longest time...starting with 3000. Didnt get in till Level 3...because I was busy chopping a SNG before it started. Chopped it because I only had 2 more minutes to get into the Mega. I would go on a heater from hell. 99 vs AK I flop a set. 99 vs 66 I again flop a set. Raise....they fold. Raise they fold. I had idiots LIMPING in for 800 or 1200....and leaving less than 3000 behind....I'm sitting there with 5-7...and on a flop of 7-4-3 moving all in and having limpy limpmeister folding 88 face up! I can't make this up!

So when I am sitting there with 24,000 and the blinds at 600/1200...and 39 left, with 33 winning an entry, I am feeling pretty close to having this locked up.

QUE the DISASTER! The first of many on this trip. The one from earlier in the day came in the noon tourney in Level 10...when...in the BB...with AK...I get raised from MP...the button shoves with a shortstack. I shove. First raiser calls. Flop? A-3-A. Wow. Feeling like a triple up right? 1st guy checks. Next guy ships. Other guy folds. Dude turns over A-10. Wow. Really? Okay.....turn is a 5. River? Why not a 10? Monkey goes bye bye.

So...back to Mega Disaster. Guy who has been limping...a LOT...under the gun...for some stupid ass reason does it again...with two shortstacks in the SB/BB. Now...why in the hell you would be doing this with AA defies logic. Chances of them raising or moving all in...at this stage of the tourney...when everyone is playing tight as shit...are slim and none. So instead let them flop gin and crack your aces you dipshit. So...when I look down at QQ on the button...I decide there is no way he is limping with AA. Incidently, he is the ONLY one at the table who has me covered. So when he pushes all in after I raise to 4200...I sit there...perplexed...before finally folding. He shows me AA. Incredible.

Very NEXT EFFING HAND...and oh...this is all being done by MARK... a dealer who is now etched (burned really) into my memory. He deals me....QQ. AGAIN! Older gentleman two seats over...moves all in...and does his trademark..."Yabba Dabba Doo!" which was cute the first two times, and now is just stupid....and I answer with..."Yabba Dabba Doo...I call!" What does he turn over? Hey.......ACES! Why not! And he flops a set. There goes another 5500. Now I am seething. And sitting on 14,000. Almost down to 10 BB's now.

So on the VERY NEXT HAND? He gives me JJ. I raise. Folds around to the BB. He asks me how I feel about him shipping with 10's? I look at him...and say "Tens? That what you have? I'm okay with 10's."  So he moves in for 10,200 over my 3600 raise. I call. He shows 10's. He flops a set. Yep. I am now sitting on 3500. I am about to cry. Well...not cry. Maybe destroy some furniture or burn something. So...now I am in the BB...fourth hand...for those scoring at home. And I have KQ. And...of course...another small stack (but now bigger than mine) goes all in. I call. He has A5. Annnnnnnddddd why would I hit anything? I don't. And I am OUT! Un-freaking-real!

If I ran down all my bad beats, all the hands that have sucked out on me....it would take an hour. But I will give you a couple.

Not yesterday...cuz yesterday was effing brutal...but the day BEFORE? In the noon tourney...at Level 12...I am in the BB with J2. This guy limps UTG...and he is sneaky...been limping all day with big hands. I catch a 2-2-5 flop. Wow! I check. He checks. Turn a JACK! I check again. He bets. I simply call. The river is...mmmm...dont even remember, didn't matter. I decide to bet about half the pot. He tanks...

DAMMIT! How bad did I play this hand...I'm thinking. Should have checked to him and let him bet it. And just then...he ships all in! 

WHAT!!!????? Where did that come from? What in the HELL? All I can think is that he is sitting there on AA!  JACKS? Could he have limped in with Jacks? No way. I can't bring myself to fold. Hell I have a damn full house!  So I call..certain I am about to see something nasty...oh and I do....FIVES! Fucccccck me! OUT!

Then, in the 7pm tourney...I am cruising along quite nicely. Dodging donkeys, fading fuckbirds...when suddenly, 8 from the money, and sitting on 15 BB's...I raise with AQ...from 800/1600 to 4500....leaving 16,000 behind. They guy in the BB...calls, with 24,000 chips....just a shade more than me. The flop comes A-10-4. One club. This guy checks. I bet 6500. He looks at me...says,"I think you missed" and shoves all in. I tell him..."I did NOT miss...and I call."  He says..."Oh than I must be way behind" and turns over...ya ready?  KING DEUCE OF CLUBS! I sit there...somewhat befuddled...but pleased at the thoughts of going to 48k. Dealer throws the 5 of clubs on the turn...followed by...HEY NOW...the 6 of clubs on the river...and guess what? Instead of 48k...it was Bye Bye Monkey. Cue the trip to valet and more mumbling about how much I hate these people!

Where was I? As I look at the clock and see that I have now only got 43 minutes until today DonkFest begins.

Oh yes...the what REALLY happened within a 15 minute span.

I look up...and walking along the outer perimeter of the tournament area...is a man about 40 to 50 years old. About 6'2 and maybe 230 to 250 lbs. Wearing a red shirt that is way too short...he has this shirt pulled up to his chest...hard to explain how or why, but somehow has his arm wrapped up inside of the shirt, providing himself with sort of a 'sling of comfort.'

(The actor's name in this movie? Harvey Fierstein...QUEEN!)

So...this guy is walking along the rail...hairy gut hanging out...for everyone to see. Massage girl on other table sees me looking in shock at this guy, turns around, sees the guy and about jumps out of her skin. I point him out to my table. Half of them laugh their asses off. The other half identify with the guy apparantly. Maybe a relative.

Two minutes later...a guy walks by...wearing bermuda shorts...up, almost..to his chest. This wouldnt be that funny...if his shirt, the kind you always wear untucked, wasnt TUCKED into his shorts. His pale white legs, his socks under his flip flops and the tattoos on his calves from a misspent youth painted a picture of pure hilarity. WHERE AM I????

Then...here comes the ultimate...and this guy was playing in the tourney. They were breaking a table...and a parade of players come by with their chip racks in two. And I see him. If I had just quickly glanced I would have though it was Halloween and this guy had come dressed up as Joe Dirt. But then I remembered, its April 9th, and that guy is too tall and too old to pull that one off.  The ultimate mullett. I mean, mullett on steroids. Not too sure this guy's hair didn't have its own area code. Where does this guy work? Where is he allowed to work where they tolerate that? I wish to HELL I had taken his picture because you would STILL be laughing at 5pm. I just sat there staring....

Dealer: (tapping on the felt) "Monkey! MONKEY! Its your turn to act Monkey!!!!!"

Oh! Sorry, shit! I raise!

Then, finally...my attention is diverted when one of the guys at the table becomes excited at the site of a hot girl (okay, we are in St. Louis...she was 'okay'...a St Louis 8 here is a Las Vegas 3...you get the picture) and points her out to everyone. So as I look to see what has captured his attention...I see more to give me cause to believe that I am currently on another planet.

Yeah yeah...this girl is semi decent...and she is with another girl who is above average. And for this trip, I would now reach into my pocket, pull out my umpires...or better yet....night club bouncer's clicker and click it twice...bringing the grand total of 'attractive' females seen here since arriving a week ago....to FIVE.

CLICK CLICK.

Then I see her. trailing behind...about 2 feet back...their uh...what do you call that beast? The 'Declector?' That girl that all semi-hot girls seem to bring along to either protect them from invading males...or to make themselves feel more attractive. The one they forget to tell how ridiculous she looks before stepping out for the night. What kind of friends ARE THOSE?

Um...yeahhhhh, uh Candy? You are pushing 200 lbs girl...you might NOT want to wear the white spandex tonight honey. You're 5 foot 2 and the shape of a cube...wearing the 5 inch high heels? Probably not a safe choice in footwear. And the tight top you are trying to pull off? No one really wants muffins at this time at night. Put it away sugar, put it away. I would say my jaw dropped...but I have seen this act. And yeah, you even see it in Vegas...and its always sad. Its just not QUITE as bad in Vegas...well, actually I guess it is...because out there...the hot friends are ten times hotter, and the scary fat pig is just as scary. Its one of lifes true tragedies. And if any of you are thinking..."Wow, Monkey...you are being really mean!" well then CHECK YOURSELF!

Its not like I am sitting here telling you that at 1:56pm yesterday, if I had in my possession a grenade...I would have rolled it under the table at table 51...and ran for cover...giggling at everyone at that table went up in smoke. Now that would be mean!

Ohhhhh no...I'm not the mean one. The mean ones are those girls, who cruelly subject fatty to this treatment. And if anyone disagrees...well, isnt it fun to disagree?

I would like to again, thank Apple for the iPod and BOSE for the noise cancelling headphones.

Guy in the 1 seat? On table 51? With the hooded sweatshirt....who when he raises...then C-bets right away with an amount involving ONE color of chips...which means you actually HIT the flop or have something...but grabs a variety of colored chips to construct your bet when you totally miss...thus cueing us GOOD players to raise your stupid ass? The guy who looks like a fucking pumpkin? With that stupid dropped lip of yours? And that head lacking a chin? And your....'every hand is being televised by ESPN' table mannerisms?  I HATE YOU!

It is now 11:39. I must end this. THERE! You have your blog for the day. And yes....Wild Bill, I will accept your offer to write an article in next month's GCP magazine.

Oh...and the other day...yeah...I cashed 20th. Big effing deal. In case some of you were wondering.

Monkey.

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