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Saturday, February 12, 2011


I really, really, really hate coming on here and filling the pages of my blog with nothing but negative. All I think about is taking that winning photo...with the kids (crystal monkeys) getting to come out of the drawer finally and posing with a whole lotta, a smile on my face, Monkey beads around my neck, my front jeans pocket filled with a wad of $100 bills to boost my confidence and self worth on this planet that is quickly becoming less and less important to me in the grand scheme of life.

But then...just as I am approaching the finish line...just as my stack is getting to that place where, when I look down at it...I get that awesome feeling in my brain, some of you know this feeling.

We'll call it the 'Holy Shit...look at my stack! Look at the average. Look at the fear on the faces of this table whenever I raise! This is my day! I am taking this down! Yeah baby...yeah! Keep it going...smooth and easy. Bill money. Squirrel money. Vacation money. Get the backer some money. Life about to be good again.....bah bah bah bahhhhhhhhhhhhh!'

And the matter of seconds...the wild, insane, HellCat Monkey hops the plunger...sending it down, and in the flash of destructive explosions and fire that ensue, end all of that in seconds!

No Monkey! No!!!! Get off of that damn thing! Stop it! Not today! I'm serious. I need a win today! Don't do it...............

Ah but its too late. Its gone. The whole stack is gone. Two days was the 1k at noon, that should have been a good day. But after a solid start...I get QQ...which has been the devastator the last two days. Raise. Punk ass smart ass calls. Flop comes 7-high. I bet. He raises me. I re-raise. He flats. King his the turn. He bets out...roughly half my stack. Fuck. I fold face up. He shows me 6-6 the little prick. No, there was NOT a 6 on the board.

I go into a mental spiral downward. Nothing else goes right. I never recover. I am out right before dinner break.

I move on to the Omaha H/L tourney...which started 4 hrs earlier, and which I bought into 'just in case.' As was pretty glad I did. Or was I? When I got to the table on one of the 1k breaks, my 10,000 starting stack had been whittled down to 4500. In two hands, I managed to get it to 9000. When I busted the 1k, I had around 6k. I went to work.

By dinner break I had 23k. 110 played. We got down to 30 and I was cruising. I had a pretty impressive table. Me, Alan Kessler, David Singer, Mel Judah, JJ Liu, David 'The Rabi' and a couple other solid players. I have no desire to go into individual hands...mainly because I am trying really, really hard to put it out of my mind.

Lets just say this: A dealer, who I shall not name...and who feels absolutely horrible about it, although I have told him not to let it upset him...pushes into my table, one hour before the end of Day 1. I am chipleader at my table, with 82,500 chips. I've got Singer doing stupid shit like raising blind UTG....with me in the BB with A-A-2-3. At 1k/2k he's blind raising it...comes back to me, of course I re-raise. On that hand he has something like Q-J-9-2. You have to like my hand there, dontcha? Well, when the board rolls out something to the tune of K-10-8-J-9...its not quite at deliscious...with no low and him making the straight with a truly shit hand...this and about 6 other hands was how the '27 minutes of hell' transpired....and when that dealer pushed out...I had exactly ONE FUCKING 1k chip left in my stack.

I was absolutely shocked. Stunned. To go from thinking I was about to get back on the winning get that taste of victory back in my mouth, to turn this trip being OUT....OUT of the MONEY....14 hours of poker, only to go back to my hotel totally defeated and mentally shot.

Oh...I'm not even going to get into detail about the decision to go sit down at a 1/2 game...get a massage, and have this total fuckstick sit down at my table and decide, for what reason I have no idea, I guess cuz I was getting a make me his target. This guy was, and I am NOT exaggerating, the biggest fucking douchebag I have ever had at a table in my whole life. Hands down. It almost felt like a trap. Like someone at Venetian was testing my 'new image' by sending this fucker in to agitate me. I mean...this guy was incredible. He was from Detroit, and wanted to make sure the whole table knew about it. It was important for everyone to know what a bigshot he was.

I never talked to him. Didn't ask him any questions. Nothing. But he just sat there attacking me. I didn't know him. Never saw him before. Dealers would push in...know me, say hi to me...and that would piss him off, and he would go off again. Dealers kept warning him. He didn't care. He was pounding back Grey Goose's on the rocks. I was drinking Perrier...he made fun of that too. He made fun of my BOSE...of my iPad...and then..whenever I would raise, he would re-raise. Or go all in. It was all about beating me, about getting my chips. Oh...and he did. He was cracking my JJ with 10-2. Cracking my KK with 8-4. Waiting for me to come unglued. I never did. I was offered a table change twice.

No thanks. Now he had about $700 of my money and I wanted it back. I would get some of it back. The best was making a huge hero call after he would go all in...being right...and somehow not getting sucked out on. Watching him eat shit...even if it was only for a couple of minutes, felt good. It was not a good session.

And then finally, he left, with another guy from the table, to go smoke dope. I decided it was time to leave. I had the floor guy shake my hand and tell me how proud he was of me, for handling things the way I did...that he had two or three dealers tell him what a prick the guy was...and that I never even budged. I won't bad as my day was, and it WAS bad...that meant a lot to me.

I bought in for the next day's tourney before I left. I decided I didn't care what time I arrived. I wasn't putting my necessary rest in jeopardy...and besides, I see a lot of retards take out a lot of good players early...might be just as good to avoid all that. (ugh...had a flaming debate with an ultra-sensitive lady from Texas last night about using the word retard to describe a dipshit...trying to explain to her...that with a brother with Downs Syndrome, that I, more than anyone, understand the potential offensiveness with using the word 'retard' but, I'm sorry...its just a little too convenient of a word to use to describe some people...and to chill out)

So that is what I did. I slept in til about 2pm. Got there after the 1st break. Was about 4k light in my stack...which has made me realize now that buying in the night before is NOT the right strategy....because at Venetian they do a blind off for however many levels you've missed. I think if you get there at the break, they take off 1750 from your 12k stack. No where near the 4k I was out already. So I won't do that again.

Didn't really matter though. I sit down, raise with A8 on the first hand from cutoff...and the kid to the left of me...who I immediately had a mini-dispute with when he didn't feel like scooting over into his proper spot, giving me room to sit down without my ACD turning me into a psycho...decides to call me on every street (ace on turn) and giving me a 4500 pot. On the very NEXT hand... I limp with 44. The flop comes J-4-5. He bets out 500. I call. Turn is a J. He bets 900. I make it 2200. He shoves. I call. He has J9. The river was clean. Double up! Boom!

Things would go smooth for about 6 hours.

The kid and I would end up being okay. He later apologized. I mean...I literally said...."Hey, can I PLEASE ask you to slide over just a bit..." To which his response was "Hey motherfucker, I am in the RIGHT PLACE!" To which I responded...while the dealer was angrily calling the floor over..."Excuse me, my name is Will, not motherfucker...and I did say please...and I am not trying to be rude." Thought I handled that pretty good. Floor was explained the situation. He was warned for his abusive language, asked to move over...which he did.

He tilted for awhile...probably what resulted in his 4500 pot and subsequent double up...which he kind of admitted to once we got 'chummy' later.

I will never understand why some players just decide they are going to be an asshole. I know there are some of you out there who think I'm an asshole. But honestly, I just dont think you people know me. I just think its convenient for some of you to DECIDE that I'm an asshole. I'm really not. I always try to be pleasant. Try to be polite. I'm not the weasely little prick who goes to the floor guy and whines about shit about players at the table. If I have a problem with you, or need to ask you something...I will just be a man and do it at the table.

Floor guy (also a friend) on break: "Monkey, are you texting in the middle of hands?" No...not at all why?

"Some guy from your table came over and bitched about you being on your iPhone in the middle of hands."

"Interesting. I don't own an iPhone. I do own an iTouch...which yes, I have been using to listen to music, and have been downloading some songs on iTunes while listening to Slacker radio today...maybe he saw that and thinks I'm texting? I phone has been in my pocket all day."

"yeah...that must be it. Don't worry about it then." Okay.

So I go back from break...a guy raises my big blind...I look down at 9-9...and while entering my password on iTunes to save an old Elton John song...this guy starts chirping about my hand being dead because I'm on my iPhone! Ah ha! We found our rat! So I ask him if it was him that did that. At least he admitted it. This is a guy who is about 45-50. Normal looking. But a fucking crybaby weasel.

Where do these guys come from? Why do they exist? These guys...and guys like them...are one of ther reasons I am getting more and more tired of poker, and the losers who play the game.

"Sir...if you can show me how to make a phone call or send a text message with this...I will give you $100!"

"Oh...well, I'm sorry...I thought that it was your phone and that you were texting while in the hand." Yeah. Okay buddy.


Folks...STOP BEING WEASELS!!!! The world doesn't need any more spineless weasels!!!!!

So yesterday's nooner? Ugh. I would lose with QQ three times. The first time...a guy with a short stack raised UTG...I had QQ on the button. Didn't really feel like flatting. Re-raise. He shoves. Sigh. Call. He has AK. okay. Flops ace. It holds. Bye bye 7000. Next guy...and this one really pissed me off...clown on my right...with 10,000...raises to cutoff. I re-raise him to 5500. Or more than half his stack. He CALLS! Yeah. Doesn't shove. Just calls. Huh? Flop comes A-4-8. He checks. I put him all in. He calls. ACE TWO OFF SUIT. It holds.

Next freak...I raise. He shoves all in...another shortstack. I call. He has A6. Why wouldnt he river an ace. Tick tick tick....rarrrrrrrrrhhhhhh!

There is now a baby crying in the room next to me. Last the room on the OTHER side...there was a black couple....screaming back and forth...then threats, then I hear her get slapped...her scream a blood curdling scream...followed by more shouting. Whoa. This is getting bad, and I don't want to be that guy you see in those commercials or wherever it is "Oh, I'm sure there's two sides to the story, none of my business...or was it a song?"

I'm not sure...but I called security and they responded pretty quick...but then I got to listen to that beeping sound that cops walkey talkies make....all night, til about 5am. *** sigh *** FML.

I was talking with someone about it at a table last night...probably one of the two sit n gos that I lost before coming home and trying to drown myself in my toilet that is too small for me to get my whole head into.

I think that married couples and significant others couples probably get into more fights when vacationing in Vegas than any other vacation destination...for a variety of reasons. But I think the principal reasons would be the two major factors: Gambling and the temptation of other beautiful people. Jealousy. I mean...I have seriously eavesdropped on at least 10 fights between couples when I've been in Vegas...and it almost always centers on either jealousy regarding another woman/man...or one of them losing too much of their money gambling.

Memo to self...for that long sought after vacation that Squirrel is wanting to take...totally avoid any place that is filled with gorgeous women and/or casinos.

Where was I? Oh yeah...the nooner. Fuck it. QQ loses three times to shit aces...what else do you need to know>? It wasn't my day. Get moved to a table of a bunch of overly aggressive idiots, and I knew my day would end pretty soon. Raise with QQ (again) at cutoff. Button re-raises...and the Big Blind shoves all in. Christ! I fold. So does the button. ***sigh*** Probably just a three-bet resteal. I hate this table.

Then...after sitting there patiently nursing my ten big blinds...waiting, waiting, happens. I look down at AA. Thank God. Two red ones. The limey prick from England who looks like a fucking elf raises, for about the millionth time. I shove all in. Snap call. KK. Mmmmm....

Flop is clean. Turn is clean...but puts a third spade on the board. Oh god't do it....don't! No....No....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Spade on the river. Out. Oh GOD NO! I fight back the tears (just kidding, but you know what I mean) and drag my ass to the 7pm tourney.

I lose the first five hands I play. AQ. Flop ace. Guy shoves. Oh my god. Fold. Raise with 10-10. Flop comes J-8-7. Bet. Guy shoves. Oh My god!!! Fold. Tilt coming. Tilt coming. Guy limps. I raise with AK. He calls. Flop comes A-Q-5. He bets 500. I make it 1500. HE SHOVES. Thats all these mutants do and know HOW to do in nightly' shove. Again...I fold, AK face up, and he shows AQ. Slowly losing it. we go. In the big blind...with the blinds at 100/200...and me sitting on 3400 now...this clown raises to 1200. And what do I look at? What else? AA. Shit.

How do I play this? Flat? He has raised so much that he has really kind of taken away my ability to raise...what? Raise to 2500, leaving 700 behind? That won't look fishy will it? Ha! So here we go...all in. Snap call from the idiot who pot committed himself with his stupid 6x raise. He has 10-10. Somehow, he doesn't hit a 10. And I was on my way. I did nothing but stack chips for the next 8 levels. And honestly...was really starting to think I was heading for another nightly win, $2400 and some sanity back in my world.

But why would that happen? I will just cut to the chase. I am sitting on 44k. We are on our 4th break. We are down to 2 tables. 9 get paid. And I literally say...and boy do I regret this:

"Wow...we're almost in the money? Must be time for me to pick up KK for the first time tonight and run into AA!"

Yeah. I said that. And yes...numerous people heard me. So when the dealer puts out the FIRST HAND out of break...what do I get dealt to me? You guessed it. KK. Wow. So when the guy UTG raises, I didn't know if I should get excited or scared. He has 45k. Yeah, has me covered by 1k. I re-raise. Then his little slow, Hollywood act begins...and I get that creepy sick feeling in my stomach. And then he re-raises, doesn't shove. Oh no...just reraises. And I know he has AA. But I now have half my stack in there...its a $120 tourney...and I'm sorry, I'm just NOT folding KK there. And sure enough...aces. And yes...I took a picture, as I have been a lot this trip, because if you're like me...after awhile you start to really doubt your friends' bad beat stories after they just start to sound a little TOO frequent to actually be true. And if I'm my backer...I have to start feeling a little skeptical. So...probably a good idea to document these little disasters with photos, ya know?

So here ya go....proof, that no matter how deep I matter how good things are going....I can't fade "THE NIGHTMARE!"

And then, yes...I go on to play, and lose (both times with dominating hands on my exit hands) two sit n gos...before calling it a night. I did, however come back to my hotel room, dial up some online poker and do fairly well...which, if you follow me, is true PROOF that the world is clearly not right. When I am running good online, but shitty live...things on Earth suck!

At least I didn't have to worry about getting sleepy in the middle of my online poker session, with Ike and Tina duking it out next door!

One thing I have been talking to Tim Mix about at the Venetian. Tim is the tourney supervisor over there. Making all their tourneys this summer 9-handed. Most of their tables are the longer tables...and on those, 10-handed isn't as much of a big deal. But they have a lot of the shorter, stud-style tables...and sitting 10-handed on those is simply a fucking nightmare. Especially when, in poker...a lot of the people you are forced to sit next to are usually about 50-100 lbs overweight. It really is a pain in the ass. I told him I really think if they promote 9-handed play, that the players will really be pleased. I know they will. I KNOW I WILL! And if he agrees to do it, I will promote the SHIT out of Venetian from now until summer. I also think it would be a really cool idea if they would run a midnight tourney this summer. Say...15 minute levels, 10k chips...and a decent (not great, but decent) structure with a one-time rebuy, or add on, whichever they decide to use it for.

People who are on my Facebook? Memo to you. If I decide to JY you...and if you don't know what getting JY'd means...let me explain. JY stands for Jason Young, a good buddy of mine from New York, who still owes me $350 btw (yeah Jason...I havent forgotten, bitch) for a 'You can't beat this guy heads up being down 8-1...I'll give you 3.5-1 odds for $100 Monkey' prop bet we made in Atlantic City...and which saw me come back and win. Oh...yeah. JY'd. If you are on my Facebook as a 'friend' but are really just an acquaintance at this juncture of our 'relationship' and I have had a rough night, or day...or week...or whatever, and I post something, meant mainly as a vent, and you decide that you will post something that is kind of inappropriate given our 'current status' as friends...there is a very good chance that I will do to you what JY does to people who leave these little quirky remarks on HIS Facebook wall after he has done the same thing.

HE ZAPS THEM! Goodbye. And he will literally post something below their stupid comment like: Who the fuck are you? Goodbye! and they are gone. Forever. I love this. People need to know who they are...and where they rate in your life. Hey...if Kai Landry, or Dan Walsh...or a handful of other guys want to chime in with remarks telling me ways they would recommend how to kill myself...that is fine. They have earned that. Make sense? The cute little disparaging remarks? You have to EARN the right to pop those on my wall. When you are new to the need to understand there is a certain 'timing' to things. You either 'have it' or you 'dont'. And if you don' will make yourself known. You will show your colors, and you will be JY'd.

Now...a few people have decided to take this in another direction. And I don't appreciate it. At all. They have tried to JY themselves. Uh uh. This won't fly. No. First of all...sometimes, guys will leave a remark. Then someone else will leave one. I get them forwarded to me on my Blackberry. Sometimes they are out of sequence. I might respond to one...but instead of falling below the one I am responding might fall below one that was posted three comments later...and suddenly, you have a guy jumping to the wrong conclusion...thinking I am calling him a 'whatever' I was calling the other guy. Which leads to paranoia...and him freaking out...and Self-JY'ing himself. Jeezuz Christ you pansies.

Figure out where you rate. Don't be a pussy. And don't JY yourself. I will do the JY'ing here. You got it? That's all I'm going to say on that subject.

It is now 12:30. I planned on being about 1 hr late today for the $550. This assures me of getting the 5-seat. And avoiding the old man who wants to raise from 50/100 to 850 every other hand. Don't need that. Not today. Not this early. Forget it. Much rather shoot the shit with you guys for awhile.

Speaking of shit. My little penis envying, corvette driving, 80's fashionista Kai Landry has decided to start blogging again...why? I have no idea...since after readin his blogs, you really just find yourself looking in the mirror and questioning your own existence on this planet. I does a guy let a woman steal his life and all that is sacred to him and not move to Fargo, North Dakota to hide his face forever? I know some of you think Kai is funny, and at first glance (and I'm NOT talking about his hair...but yeah, that is pretty funny TOO) I can see where you might think he is...but don't confuse HUMOR with unabated lunacy. The kid is just nuts. I can only hang out with him for about 17 minutes and 43 seconds before I want to chew off pieces of my arm. No, not to get away from him...but to spit it in his face and see how he responds. Knowing what I know about him...I think he would just start the wolfman when he is in the middle of transforming. Remember Thriller? Think Thriller. that little bastard is blogging again...and in a desperation heave...similar to the one Ben Roesthlesraper made in the final seconds of Super Bowl XLV...he has asked me to try and get MY READERS to go check out his vitriole. So....FINE...I will help that little assbandit.....wanna enter a WORLD OF PAIN>? Or whatever the fuck he is calling it these days? CLICK HERE!

I know there is more to talk about...but honestly, can you really take MUCH MORE of me today? I know I can't...and I'm ME! Goodbye. I will expect NOTHING today and be surprised if I get ANYTHING.


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