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Friday, January 13, 2012

To Live or Die in L.A.

Seemed like a pretty good title. The first couple days here I was living....mmmm, maybe not LARGE...but definitely was walking around with my head held high and high hopes for 2012. Then something very 2011'esque happened. I flew to New Orleans for the BCS Title Game...which could not have gone any better...left a happy wife at home, came back...and it was like 17 guys lined up with me strapped to a pole, all coming through the line and kicking me in the balls.

By the is a pretty good, descriptive picture/video of what LSU did on Monday night, thanks to the guy who sent it to me.
CLICK on the photo and see what happens!!!!
In other developments, I hate the people who run the front desk at this hotel. I have a room with no working telephone and a Zenith that hums and hisses on all but three channels. Lady at front desk: "I tried to call you to let you know...."  Yeah, really? Remember? I don't have a working phone in there!!!!!

I just spent the last 4 days getting slaughtered at the poker table. I told you all that I lost both of those $180 Megas after my plane landed. Then won a SNG for about half the buy in. So I bought in. My stack of 20k quickly became I managed to NOT lose with KK and AA early.

But it was a day of major variance in my stack...and one guy that I couldn't beat. EVER. That would be THIS guy.

I have never seen anything like it. Every time I would get up to about double the average in chips, I would send this guy half my stack...and start all over again. He never folds with any kind of draw. EVER. I was flopping sets, top two pair, straights....and losing every time. I was pulling my hair out. And making him a massive chipleader on our table. Finally our table broke.

The new table was okay. I got up to about 40k and was looking decent. Then came the three levels of dead cards. I mean...I saw 92 and 93 about 30 times I think. Then it became a matter I want to come back with 10 BB's or less? It was a big field of over 500 players...with first place being $ patience definitely had a reward. So I was willing to try and wait on a hand. But I was running out of time....and with three hands left in the night (at the 10m mark they stop the clock and run 3 more un-timed hands before calling it a night) my little a-hole nemesis from last week raised. 

Here is the nemesis. And this was his 'crime' against Monk-anity. On a hand where he had limped, and I had raised with AK...him and this other call-station lady both called. Flop comes....oh yeah, I did already blog about this hand. Long story short, this little asshole showed me a bluff. I didn't like it. So on break I took him aside and gave him a piece of my mind.

He wears the exact same outfit every day. With the same stupid glasses under the same stupid hood. And he is fucking awful. So...why was he raising almost every hand? Oh...because he idiot luck boxed his way to 120k when we were at 400/800. How? Here's how. First let me tell you...he has no concept of pot management whatsoever. He is that Crazian who sees an ace and falls in love.

Dude on my left, who was a pretty decent player...picks up AA, and he had been on a major heater, winning about 4 big pots in the last two orbits. He screwed up his raise. Which isn't hard here...since they keep changing the colors of chips with every tourney. It's ridiculous. So instead of raising to 2500 like he meant to...he accidentally made it 6500. Whoops. Well, dipshit in the big blind recognizes that he made a mistake. But what he was forgetting was that the guy DID mean to raise. He also happened to have 55k behind him. So if you can tell me what he was thinking when he just open shoves 65k on the guy, then you're a smarter player than I am.

But that is what the little idiot did with his AQ. And for some dumb reason the guy on my left apologizes as he makes the call with his two aces. Why? I would have been saying thank you. But no worries...with what looked like a harmless flop of J-5-9...the next two cards would be a king followed by a ten...and moron inherited a mountain of chips.

So...on the 3rd to last hand of the night...jerkoff raises and I look down at A7h. And only 8 BB's. I shove. He calls with KQ. I make a flush. Up to 18k. Nice. Nothing happens on hand number two. But on #3...he raises again. I pick up pocket 9's. And I've tried three betting this clown. It never works. And I'm not flatting with it. So I shove again. He snap calls...with the hand he never matter what. ACE JACK offsuit. Nice call. Clean flop...come on baby, bring me back to Day 2 with 40k and a good shot at making a run. 

You know that sound it makes on Family Feud when they guess wrong? It just played. The little fucktard turns a jack. And I was done. Exit stage left. Long walk to hotel. Pass out.

Next day. Tuesday. Noon $345. Another shot at points and a ring. Another good start. And an actual fun table...with fun players. Not one giant douchebag. Bizarre. I had high hopes for a good day and a good run. Then in a bad spot against a really aggressive player who I knew liked to put pressure on with draws...I had to make a decision in level 12. I had flopped top pair with top kicker...and this guy check raised me all in with two hearts on the board. I figured he had a flush draw...and decided if I won the hand I could probably coast to the money, if I folded, I was going to be down in 15BB land...and I just didn't feel like being in that soup. So I called. I was right, he had AQh. So an ace wouldn't help him. Just a heart or a queen, which he promptly turned..and I was out. Shit!

 Next up? 5pm tourney, featuring Eight or Better Stud and Omaha Mix game. Sounds fun. My table sucked. I was destroying it. I was chipleader most of the day. But this has happened a lot in this game. And often times...when we get to big levels, and there are still call stations around, it ends in disaster. Or that dealer who comes wearing a hood and carrying a sickle. This one was a combination of the two.

After 7 hours of play...and a third of the field gone...I was sitting on 35k...with the average at 15k. Yes, things were going great. The levels were now at 500/1000 and the herd was thinning quickly. Here comes new dealer. Lose a hand. Lose another hand....come on! Lose again. WTF!?? Lose once more! Rivered, rivered, rivered...about three times in a row. I was starting to come unglued. Then with three way action, and having flopped top set...I was POSITIVE one of the two clowns made a flush on the turn...and folded on the river. Only to see they were both betting the shit out of it with nothing but lows. I would have taken half the pot...which was about 25k. But instead, I folded like a scared little girl. Probably had something to do with the 6 consecutive hands I had lost to go from 35k down to 14k and now had me reeling.

I knew after that hand that I had probably just lost the tourney right there. And I think I was right. I then went on to lose the next four hands in a row...two on the river...and was out of the damn tourney. I was stunned. And pissed. I just wanted to get the hell out of again, I made the long painful walk back to my hotel. 

Okay lets see...its now 12:05. My bus leaves Greyhound at 1:20. The station is pretty close by....I should have time to finish this I think.

I show up for the last ring event yesterday at noon. A turbo $345. My table included Alan Cunningham, and about 5 other players who had won rings and/or bracelets. It was pretty impressive. I'm pretty glad that when I got back to my room last night I didn't blog, because it would have been one that I would have regretted. And somehow I have managed to forget a lot of what happened in this tourney. What I do know, is that I had chips ALL day. Good chips. And I was wearing my 'Canada' hat...which, it seems, every time I need to cash, and I wear that hat...I always cash. On a hand where the guy utg had raised...I just flatted with 99. We got 4 callers. The flop came 8-9-Q. Checked to me. I bet 3500. Cunningham sized me up then called. The other two folded.

The turn was a 3. He checked again. I bet 4500. He stared me down again and called. he dubiously playing J10 over there? Very much in his range for sure. River was nothing to harm me...but I was still losing to J10. He checks again. Can't see him checking the nuts there...not with that much in the pot. I fire 6500. Thinking I want a call. He folds. I was now sitting pretty.

Pretty went to shit in about two orbits. I know it started with a short stack shoving and me having A4d in the BB...and making the call. Up against 77. I miss. And then it just went downhill from there. In the SB I limp with J9 suited. Flop comes QJ3. I bet. He raises me. Hmmm. There are two hearts out there, and I put him on a flush draw. I call. Long story short...he checked the turn with his 10-7d....then when another 7 hit the me jacks and sevens with a Q kicker...and him betting what felt like an overbet by a guy who missed his flush draw (true story) I called...only to see he missed his flush draw and went runner runner for trips. Fuck me!

Then I river a straight against a guy who rivered a damn flush. And honestly, I don't even remember what my out hand was...but I finished 54th out of 192 players and just felt like I went 10 rounds with Manny Pacquiou. I stumbled out of there and into the hallway.

Okay...its 12:20...I'm getting nervous...and I really don't want to be stuck here another day. I will finish this when I get on the bus...and probably have lots of new, humorous material to share with you, if I know the ways of human subculturous behavior the way I think I do!!!

>>>>> to be continued!


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