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Saturday, April 23, 2011

A 'lil South Florida 'ScrapBookin' with Jackholes!


(the thoughts and opinions on this post are those of Senor Monkey's alone. Images have been altered to protect the guilty. Any similarity to any actual poker player is purely coincidental)



Hi! My name is Senor Monkey. I would like to say that April 22nd, 2011 is a day that I wish with every fiber in my body that I had either gone to the beach, went and checked a double or triple feature at the local theater, or just taken 5 Ambien's and stayed in bed!

What's interesting about all that, is that I only logged about a total of 2 hours at the poker table. I am now laying in bed at 3am, having slept from 8pm to 1am, before being woken up by a bunch of spring-breakers in the room next to me, who like to leave that metal latch open so the door doesn't lock, you got me? So every time one of them comes in and out I get to hear that loud THUNK! Add to that the screaming of the girls anytime one of their friends walks in the room...."Oh my God!!!! Whatssss upppp girlfriend!!!!! ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!"

I am currently watching 'Rainman' and the scene where they are driving in the middle of nowhere, and Raymond is freaking out about his underwear...which is causing Charlie to lose his mind, interestingly similar to how I felt at the poker table a good part of the last three days.



This is a photo taken from the 7th floor of the parking deck at the lovely Seminole Hard Rock Casino....and, uh, resort? Seems like a good place to go stand when you are losing your mind? Right? It was...until I got cornered by some vagrant...asking me at least 23 questions before finally I just looked at the guy and said....

"Look, dude...here is the deal. I am actually a pretty generous guy. But I like to CHOOSE my charities, not have them thrust on me with some snappy sales presentation. I give money to hungry children causes, I donated a nice chunk of change to the victims of Haiti and Japan, and I always help the local neighborhood kids with their Little League, Girl Scouts or book club stuff. I help friends who are in need. See, I don't know you. And I also am not buying your story, and I also see that you can walk, talk and breathe...which makes you a strong candidate for a lot of jobs. So if you aren't already tired of me blowing you off yet...you can safely conclude that I am not going to give you a penny. Now please go away and leave me alone."

He actually walked away...without a word. I am pretty sure he had no idea how to respond. Probably a first for him.

Okay, lets get to the photo gallery...as I attempt to make you feel like you are here with me in totally predictable South Florida, where every day is just like any other day on the planet. Pffffft. Yeah!

Remember the final table the other day? The one where I got 4th? Not 8th? That lady? Who looks like the avatar lady on Full Tilt? Here she is. I have added a little something to her glasses you may need to click on and blow up. It reads...aptly I must add..."Seniors Champ" as I not only had to sit and listen to her beat us up with that whole day...but which I have since then had to hear her tell other tables in other tourneys in the same fashion. Wow. For the record...the Seniors Tourney was on the Monday that I was driving here. There were very few players...and it ended up being like a 5-way chop. So her title is somewhat stigmatized.



So...yesterday was magnificent. I decide to play the 4pm $350 becuase everyone thought it would outdraw the 12pm $350. That and I was tired and needed some sleep. They were wrong. And I can't even tell you how I lost. I just know that I was out before 7pm, because I was able to get into the 6:30 pm Rebuy Mega for the $10k Main Event here that starts on the 27th.

Oh! I started great. Went from $2000 to $9000 fast. Basically had people just giving me chips. Then our table breaks. And we get moved to a table with a guy who enjoys saying the word "All In" and is making sure that he removes all value from his journey to secure a $10k seat....rebuying like 11 times at 200 a pop. You heard me. Well, I am the victim on one of his tardshoves...as another guy raised from 100/200 to 600, only to see him shove with 2-8 offsuit....I shove all in with AKd. Other guy calls with KQ. But only has 1600. Dumbass has 2200. Dumbass hits a 2 and it holds.

We went on break. I put a $100 bounty on the guy. I mean...it was ridiculous the shit he was doing...and the whole table wanted him to go. Oh...and every hand was like a 5 minute task to get him to act on his hand. "Its your turn sir."
"Oh its my turn?" "Yes, its your turn." "Has anyone bet yet?" "No sir, you are the first to act." "What should I do with this hand? What do you guys think? Maybe I will go all in?"

"Maybe someone will hand me a fully loaded Glock and I will shoot this guy?"

With the bounty in play...and the rebuy period over...dipshit moves all in again....I happen to look down at AA. "Yeah, I call." No one else does. He has...I don't know...something bad...and fails to crack my aces. I save $100. And rid myself of the headache. And everyone else.

Fast forward. With four tables left...I have what we will call 'annoying episode number 1' with this clown down below, the guy with the skittle hanging off the end of his nose. Every tourney here, when they get to 6 tables, they have been going 9-handed. So when we were at 36 and playing 9-handed...and brushed to three tables, I just had to naturally assume they were sticking with the norm. So I sit in the 6 seat, and invite the guy in the 5 seat to square up. He bristles, thinking we still might get a 10th player brought to our table.

"I don't think so, we have been playing 9-handed every tourney when under 54 players. I will go ahead and get the empty 4 seat out of the way." And I moved the chair. The guy still refused to move over. Sigh. Attractive girl to my left, girlfriend of one of the two eventual winners, remarks: "why in the hell won't this asshole move over? I mean...if they bring another player we will just adjust, right?"

"Its refreshing to see that you are both attractive and also have been gifted with common sense. Tell your parents I said thank you."

Then it happens. Why I have no idea...probably because the woman they had running the tourney wasn't a standard tourney person. At 20 players she decides to make us 10 handed on 2 tables. That's when 'Mr. Coco Puff on the nose with Fish covered shirt' guy decides to do one of my favorite things. Make the comment of a 7 year old, although he lives inside the body of a 50+ year old man.

"Hey, I'm just curious...you said you would be willing to bet that we would remain 9-handed the rest of the way....how much you would have bet?"

Now...for those of you out there who (a) have a modicum of common sense (b) are fellow smart asses and/or (c) love to one-up a simpleton...this would seem to present a golden opportunity at a verbal reprisal, right?


Okay. First of all...those fantastically studly glasses were a creation of Monkey's Photo Lab! The perma-booger is God's gift to this buffoon. I found myself in one of those spots. Hmmm...how to respond to this kid who mom dropped on his head over and over as a kid...and somehow made it this far in life so he could put on his fake Tommy Bahama shirt with fish or ships or something stupid like that, and wander down to the place I call my office, to pretend like they know what they fuck they are doing there.

So I decide to choose my words very carefully, while at the same time wanting dearly to make this guy feel about 2 inches tall.

So I just sit there for about 7 seconds...which, if someone is staring into your soul while not talking, is a surprisingly long period of time...and then I begin:
"Sir...I'm curious, how long have you been diagramming that rhetorical question? And how exactly did you hope that I would respond? Did you think I would answer you by stating a certain dollar amount? Or did you think I would be stumped by your magical ability to 'burn me' and just shrivel up and evaporate into a mist of shame? Seriously? What was your intention of blurting out that little puddle of stupidity? And how old are you? Nine? Who asks that kind of question?"

I know you want to know how he responded...but honestly, look at the guy? And shading out his cold, dead eyes really takes away from what a lifeless, non-charismatic shlub this guy is, but in the interest of not 'offending' anyone or 'getting in trouble' I must. The point is...is there anything you can imagine this guy saying that you would find to be either (a) funny, (b) entertaining or (c) useful in any way?

At some point he mentioned something about me not having a life, or getting a life or something to that slant. To which I believe I took credit for having a great life...a beautiful wife, two wonderful dogs, money in the bank, and a nose that is free of large circular shapes...that if someone HAD a good life, you would think might have had that 'thing' removed a LONG time ago. Okay, I admittedly left that last part out. But I was thinking it, of course.

When we made it the Final Table...he was seated directly on my right. Arriving as the chipleader, he sat there and watched his stack slowly dwindle way to dust...as he is one of those people who have no clue how to play that deep in a tourney. Also...he started figuring out that I am a lot cooler than he initially must have thought I was...and was making little attempts to get me to 'warm up' to him. I had no interest. He took a bad beat and was punched out in 5th place. Peace out.

Oh, but before he got punched out, he almost got disqualified. Along with the guy who knocked me out and ended up winning the seat. I posted on my Facebook about this but didn't give you the details...so I know there are a lot of you anxiously awaiting the story. Well, here it is. He was in the big blind. Local Cuban dude raises on the button. At the time he was short on chips. This guy calls with A4. He flops bottom pair. Checks. Button bets. He calls. Turn is I dont know? Check. Check. River is a 4. The nose check. The Cuban bets. The nose hesitates, then calls...the Cuban shows his hand...then the Nose quickly mucks. Well, the guy in the 1-seat sensed something weird was going on.

He asks to see the guys cards. Dealer tried to resist by telling him the guy folded. Both players try defending the dealer. Player persists...insisting that because it went to showdown, that he has a right to ask. He wins. Dealer turns over 'The Nose's' cards...exposing trip 4's. Or...the winning hand. Heated discussion ensues. It would seem to be a chip dump. Play continued. I went back to my music. Two orbits later, the floor guy comes over, stops play, reviews what occurred and says he is going to surveillance to review the play, and that if he sees what it sounds like was blatant collusion, which from what I hear..occurs down here a LOT...that both players are going to be disqualified. Well, he returned about 15-20 minutes later and announced that they weren't going to be disqualified, but sternly warned. Had they been DQ'd, I probably win easily. Not that this is how I wanted to win...but if guys are cheating, then I don't mind.

While the investigation was going on...I was listening to both of them talk about it...and if you are even kind of intuitive, you could sense that something just didn't sound right. Nobody is anywhere near as stupid as this guy was coming off.

Do you even care what happened in the Mega? Well, for you haters who like to tune into my blog to see how I'm doing (or NOT doing...yes YOU Chad Burns) I will give you the painful outcome. We were 4-handed. 3rd place got $1400 and the other two won a $10k entry into next week's WPT Main Event down here. We were all pretty even in chips. In a blind vs. blind hand I have KJ to a guy's K8...on a flop of K-10-4. He bets, I raise, he ships. He was Russian. I call. Nice call. 8 on the turn. Fuck me. Chopped me way down. Make big comeback. Get them all back. Big hand:

Flop comes three clubs. I am open ended with a small flush draw. SB checks. I bet out 5500 (blinds were 1k/2k) next guy raises to 12k. SB goes all in. Shit! I fold. Guy next to me flopped a straight with a gutter straight flush draw..the other guy had QJc...flopped flush. If it holds, I lock up 3rd at least. Guy hits the gutshot straight flush. Shit. Other guy now short. He comes back. Damn. Then the KillShot!

Check check preflop in the blinds. I have garbage. I flop a straight. Dude shoves all in and has me barely covered. I call...he has a flush draw. He turns the flush. I throw up in my mouth. I die a little inside. I painfully remove myself from the table...and did the worm all the way downstairs. When is the last time you saw that? Speaking of 'The Worm'...last Friday or Saturday night when I was out with Allie Prescott, Mike Beasley and few other guys....they have a little courtyard where live musicians perform on in the middle of the shops and casino. Dennis Rodman....aka 'The Worm' was invited onstage to contribute his musical stylings...which were horrible and pathetic. Beasley bemoaned his presence before we even had a chance to hear Senor Worm. At first I thought maybe Mike was being unfair. He wasn't. Rodman should stay as far away from a microphone as possible, and his stage presence was extremely awkward and unimpressive. NBA Hall of Fame!?? Sure..no problem. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Not gonna happen.

No 10k seat for me yet. So close. I could have slept well last night having taken a 4th place, an 8th place and locking up a 10k seat. So instead I decide to go play a little $1/$2 to soothe my ruffled feathers and tortured soul.

Joining me at the table is a couple of people I know, Steve Garrett, and this girl Pauly I met playing in there the other night and is pretty funny...with a dark, sick sense of humor. My favorite kind of people. Her and Steve were both seated on my side of the table.

I fire up my iPad...and we start playing 'The Family Feud.' Then it begins. See the guy down below? We shall call him....'The Small Stakes Cash Game Demon.' He is that old guy who's life has pretty much sucked for...well, most of his life. He wears his history on his face. Initially he kept trying to be 'the cute little old guy' by pandering to Pauly. She wasn't buying. She was clearly more interested in everything else going on at the table, mainly my iPad.

Cue the iPad envy...and I find this is becoming a bit of an issue. Where I USED to get in trouble for being too social, too talkative...now that I have reversed field and become a total introvert, summarily ignoring all human contact whatsoever while playing poker...we have now run into the guy...mostly old guys who don't even know or understand what it is I have in front of me. But they don't have one. And they can tell I am enjoying it. So suddenly its something for them to bitch about.

He begins by asking the dealer if I am allowed to have it at the table. Dealer tells him its fine, so long as I am not slowing down the game, which of course I'm not. That pisses him off...I guess, because now he starts whining about the sound. Its too loud for him. Understand something. We are in a poker room that contains like 40 tables downstairs and 10 tables upstairs. Its a Thursday night, and the poker room is packed, and very noisy, he is in the 5 seat, we are in the 7,8 and 9 seat...and somehow the sound from 'The Family Feud' is upsetting him.

This guy was utterly pathetic. Floor comes over and asks me if I would just turn down the volume. Sure thing...which means we can't play Family Feud. So I decide to play Pac Man...by myself. Uh oh. He can hear the sound. He freaks out again. You gotta be kidding me. By now the dealer is snickering at what a clown this guy is. And the floor is tired of coming over. I was told later on by one of the dealers that this guy comes in all the time, and is constantly whining about EVERYTHING. Great, and I had to get him at MY table?

So now we aren't playing games. I decide to fire up 'Beavis and Butthead' on Netflix. The volume on the iPad is pretty shitty. I'm hoping the iPad2 has a much better integrated speaker. We could barely hear it...but if you ever used to watch Beavis and his buddy, just watching them is almost as funny as being able to hear them. That lasted about 20 minutes before he started belly-aching about that too. Finally, I just shut it down. And then...after about 15 more minutes, I had lost all desire to continue sitting at this table. I packed it up and headed out. And after I got about 20 steps out the door, the damn leather strap on my fairly new FOSSIL bag just snapped. Yeah. I was pissed.

Spend about 1 hour driving around looking for shoe repair places to try and stitch fix it today after busting both tourneys. Found two places, both closed. Standard. Will try again tomorrow. My bag is a very vital tool in my poker life.

Back to the Old Devil. What is wrong with these pricks? I mean, I am going out of my way to stay out of trouble. I mean...wouldn't you think being a hermit who never even talks to people would be able to avoid their scrutiny? Why do they care if I am entertaining myself? Again...that same damn thing that seems to love rearing its ugly head. JEALOUSY. If I could give everyone an iPad like I was Oprah, I would. But dude, just because I am over here keeping myself from going completely insane...is no reason for you to fuck with me. I swear, for every cool old person I meet, there seems to be 4 I would like to run my 4Runner over.



By the way...I am told that Mike Judge is bring back the loveable Beavis and Butthead with more episodes with more of a modern feel, this summer I believe. I personally cannot wait!

Also seated at my table, I had the black kid who every time I have seen him is wearing one of those hair nets on his head. Yet he's bald. Why? I don't get it. Would one of my fellow black players who I am friends with please explain this look, or what its purpose is? Two nights ago, I was crushing him and the rest of the table for about a stretch of 40 minutes...to the point that he suggested our game was somehow rigged, or that the dealer was pulling an Edward Norton (from Rounders) on them. Just to show him I wasn't just winning with good hands...since he was convinced I was getting all the great cards and he was getting all the shitty ones, I decided to build a pot with 48 offsuit...and then blast the river...getting him to fold top pair and showing him a total bluff.

"See...good cards are completely unnecessary sir. Its just how you play them."

I think the funniest guy at my table was this guy. He didn't really do anything wrong. Nor did he really do anything to piss me off. But he was so 'Mr Intensity' which is what I have playfully written on his forehead here...that you just had to watch him and giggle to yourself. Every time he would make a raise, he would pull the lid of his hat down really low, bow his head...and tighten up his lips...which were already incredibly non-existent to start with...so watching him slip into his Mr. Intensity role was just pretty hilarious....this being a $1/$2 table, which made it even funnier!



See this place down below? That is a restaurant. I'm not kidding. I know I know...its looks like you are walking into a training facility for the MMA folks, right? Its not. Its an Italian joint...and one that is seriously expensive. I'm sorry, but I know what the food cost is on any pasta dish...and if you think I am going to come sit down in your place and plop down $30 or more for any pasta dish...well, there better be half naked round girls walking around with the numbers 1 through 4 to indicate which course is arriving next.




I mean...how did the planning session go when they were deciding what they would do for signage? I know...we will find that old washed up bouncer with all the tattoos and the skin that has been kissed by a tanning bed that has logged more hours than a 35 year veteran for American Airlines and throw his guido ass up on our billboard. Good call. I'm sure scores of people have been photographed with 'Vinny' in the backdrop. Who wouldn't want that picture adorning their walls at home!??



Oh my God I am getting so tired now. And I really want to finish....but don't know if I am going to make it. See Monkey up there jamming on the plunger? That was my mindset today. If I could have gotten up from Seat 6, table 33....and completely blown it up...I swear, I would have.

Yeah...that was the tourney that was supposed to start at 4pm. A $125 buy in with a $30k guarantee...which meant a line out the door into the courtyard. I arrived late for the noon tourney....very late...and missed just about every flop I tried to get lucky on. And don't try bluffing a pot against these freaks. They will either call you with bottom pair or float you with overs. Makes it a bit difficult to come with your 'A' game, because your 'A' game (if your even half decent as a player) is useless against most of these goofballs.

So when Manny Minaya limped utg for $400....and I was down to 3400...I felt like shoving with AQ was a pretty good play. He called with 44...turned our hands over, and that's when zippy in that 1-seat does that thing we all love so much.

"Oh wow, I folded an ace! You're probably okay!!!"

Thanks buddy, loved hearing that. Anything other annoying comments you want to throw out at me?

I flopped an ace, miraculously apparently. But hold the phone...dealer slaps a 4 on the river and my time there was over. SIGH.



I go to sign up for the 4pm $125 tourney...which ends up being a debacle. There is a line going out the building. They are having a problem with their printer. I hate lines. I hate waiting. I hate standing for long periods of time. I find one of the guys who works there...who knows I have been here playing all week, and I ask if he can help 'expedite' my entry, as I hand him $20 and my entry fee and players card. He is happy to help me. Thank god, or I would have left I think. As it turns out...I should have left. The start was delayed. So alas...here I am getting into a tourney on time. For once. I end up at the table from hell. I mean, literally....FROM HELL! Playing 10-handed, I situate myself in the 5 seat, splitting the box accordingly. The 6 seat is the last to arrive.

First up...we have the old lady in the pseudo Cowboy hat...who I didn't feel the need to disguise since that could actually BE a disguise. Who knows for sure that this isn't Kai Landry with a wig, big glasses and having sprayed glue on his hands and arms to make them look like lizard skin? In fact...I think it might have been Kai. Nice job of disguising the voice if it was. But this old gal was playing the stereotype of an old lady at the poker table that it was almost TOO convincing. "Is it my turn?" "How much is the bet?" "What are the blinds?" On and on....taking too long to act on her hand. Or his (Kai!). Then she has all these various patches splattered all over her hat and shirt trying to indicate what? That she is some pro or something? It was pretty humorous.



See this guy? With the knife in his eyeball? And the patch on the other eye? I convinced myself that someone else stabbed him in the eye, costing him THAT eye...and then I plunged a dagger in the other one. This guy is "Captain Angle Shoot Toothpick Eater." One of my least favorite players at any table. Well, for about the fifth time on this trip, he was guilty of the 'ol calling the bet when there had been a raise behind him...and getting to take his 'call' amount back because he 'didn't hear the dealer announce raise.' We all know the deal with that. We all know that money stays. That its the players responsibility to follow the action. They have let players take their money back in those spots about 5 times this week because the players just overpower the dealers...and none of them want to be 'the bad guy' so they just let the player get away with it. Its pretty stupid. So I am under my BOSE...and not really sure what I just saw happen...so I pull off an ear and ask "what just happened there?"

Well this jackass knows I'm a regular player, and also knows that I know he just got over on the dealer...so he gets all defensive and starts taking jabs at me. "What? What's your problem? You wanna call the floor and make a big deal about it? Huh? It was an accident...that's all. Why do you have to make a big deal about it!" While he is talking all I can do is fixate on him spinning that damn toothpick around in his mouth...and think of ways to kill him...before deciding on the knife into the eye......

"Sir, all I did was ask a simple question, because something looked wrong and I wasn't listening to the action. Am I allowed to do that without you jumping down my throat? Honestly, I could care less if no one here follows the rules, or enforces them. I'm going to go back to my music, and you can return to your angle-shooting. Good bye" And I put my BOSE back on and continued losing my mind.

This guy is a real prince. He was that guy who wanted everyone at the table to know that he is some kind of local bigshot...dropping names left and right. Suggesting to his friend that he was getting his $3 beers for free 'as long as he tipped the girl $1 each time'....whoa, yeah...a buck. He ridiculed his buddy for 'paying for his beers.' There were about three times when a questionable play would occur, and he would end every discussion with "I know I'm right, I'm always right. Anyone that tries to have a debate with me is going to lose!"



Watching him play, listening to him talk...him and his beady eyes and his pencil thin lips...ugh...the disdain kept growing and growing. And every beer he consumed he just became more and more annoying.



This guy....grrrr....he established right off the bat that he was going to be the guy to steal every pot with a bluff. I figured out his deal right off the bat, and had decided I was going to do a TON of limping and try to catch this guy...then snap him. The big gigantic sunglasses, the massage girl that he called on in the middle of level 1...one of those guys most of us just loathe...ever time he steals a pot, starts smacking his gum. Well, he managed to violate my number one pet peeve...when after I had already surrendered 25% of my stack early...I limped for 100 with JJ. Two calllers...then he makes it 450. Another bullshit steal attempt. The Cowboy Hat granny calls...she was calling a LOT of three bet raises...then falling asleep post-flop...good strategy.

I make it 2200. He really didn't think too long before smooth calling. Grandma folded. The flop came King high. Jeezuz. I probably should have bet there, but I checked, and he fired out 5000. Huh? I'm thinking that just felt wrong. Why would he bet so much with AK or even KQ? It smelled like a bluff, and I almost jammed my 7k in there...but it would leave him with no fold equity...and knowing my luck he had like AQ or something and would hit the over after having to fold. Or he might actually have a K. I frustratingly fold face up. And what does he do? Shows A10. Air. Then chuckles. I didn't show any emotion whatsoever...but inside the furnaces I was dumping 100 pounds of coal onto the fires.

Then along came the stinky Arab. He was the late arrival to the table in Seat 6. First thing he does it start wriggling around and making me feel like I need to move over. Then he asks me to move over. "Sorry champ, I am right where I'm supposed to be...splitting the box. We are 10-handed, its a little tight." He seems to be upset by my response. Oh well.

So he starts doing this thing with his arms...fanning them as wide as possible every time he goes to look at his cards or make a wager. I am increasingly wishing he had been racially profiled on a flight sometime in the last ten years and sent to Guantanamo Bay to be forgotten about. Then I spelled it. Oh My God....what is that? He smelled like a dirty diaper. And it kept getting worse. And then...in between hands...he started holding his hands behind his head...so that I was first recipient of his under arm B.O. Are you kidding me? What did I do to deserve this table?

Then it gets worse. I guess he decided I was enjoying some kind of disadvantage over the others...because he goes to the floor and complains about my iPad...claiming that I have an advantage over the other players. Huh? The floor guy asks me to keep it off the table, that I can use it if I keep it in my lap. Fine. I ask the guy to explain what he decided to make a big deal about it. His response was almost classic. He tries to use an analogy, which is something I happen to consider myself quite good at.

"I will use an analogy! If you are at the airport and everyone at the table has to go through security...but you don't, is that fair to the other players?"

Are you kidding? You are using this as your analogy? Have you ever seen ANYONE not get screened at security at the airport? And where did you come up with that stupid analogy? The two have nothing in common, and to use it to compare to me using an iPad to avoid having to listen to all of your conversations, or to keep myself from dying of boredom...to skipping the security line at the airport is retarded. Try another analogy. Please...for the sake of your dignity. He just sat there and kept babbling annoyingly. I kept listening to my music...and dodging his elbows. I am amazed at how calm I have become in the past year. Last year and before...I would have flipped out on this guy. Now I just keep it buried....

I got lucky. I got knocked out early. Toothpick limped in and I just called on the button with Q10. I flopped two pair and raised his bet of 300 to 1300. He stuck around with a gutshot draw...and flush draw. Turn was a blank...he checked. I bet 2000. He went all in. I called...he rivered a straight. Of course. And I was out...and honestly glad. Gathered my stuff and went looking for a shoe repair joint...then...as I mentioned earlier...fell asleep. I just woke up at 10:32am...and finished the rest of this and now have 20 minutes to get to the casino for today's $560 in the bigger venue...which should attract a really good crowd. I intend to run well and play well today and win about $20,000. That's the plan anyway.




If I should happen to get unlucky enough to get any of these clowns at my table...I will...uh...take a deep breath, pray for patience, and continue in my goal.

Allie Prescott claims that tonight is the night we are going to the Club that Mike Beasley owns down here, called Scarlett's, which I hear is really a nice place, like a night club with strippers. Sounds delightful. I have yet to visit the beach, or even the swimming pool...and am again approaching ghostly and zombie-like...never a good thing. Maybe I will just win this damn tournament today. Yeah...think that is exactly what I will do. After two days of torture I think I have earned that.

Okay...I'm outa here. Finally. I'm hungry.

Monkey

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