Monday, August 6, 2012

Do You Want Me to Shave You?

Two nights after this story took place, I showed up at the BSC poker room and noticed that Isabel was playing again, and that Ginger was about her to join her (as a player, that is).  The details of the previous time I saw the two of them playing together are chronicled here.

Of course I wanted to play at their table.  More blogging material, you see.  But their table was full and they had just opened a new 1/2 game and it was short-handed, so I had to go to that table.  As Susan was getting me my chips, she asked if I wanted to move to the table with the “crazy ladies” when available.  I said of course and I actually think she was a little surprised that I wanted to.

So my second or third hand I was dealt the dreaded pocket Kings.  In the big blind and the player UTG raised to $11.  All I knew about him was that he had asked to be put on the 2/5 interest list.  Not knowing anything about anyone at the table, I decided to just call (I usually do 3-bet in that situation with my least favorite hand).  There were one or two other callers.
The flop was 9-10-J, a pretty scary board (pretty sure it was rainbow).  I checked, wanting to see what the preflop raiser would do.  He put out a bet about half the pot, and it folded to me.  I really had nothing to go on, just gut instinct.  My gut told me he was making a continuation bet and that he really didn’t have anything.  AK, AQ?  Hopefully not KQ.  And hopefully not a pocket pair that he had made his set with.  I can’t really explain why, but I really thought my Kings were good there.
So after checking, instead of just raising his bet, I shoved.  Not a move I normally make, but if he had a straight draw (AQ,QQ,88), I had to make it painful for him to call.  The guy thought long and hard and finally said, “good bet” and folded.  He asked me what I had and I said nothing as I took down the pot.  But not long after I was called for the table change.  The guy hadn’t stopped thinking of that hand and so as I left, he asked again, what I had.
Now, figuring I was unlikely to play with him again—seeing as how he wanted to play 2/5—I went ahead and told him.  He was actually impressed.  He said he had pocket 8’s and thus folded his open ended straight draw.  He again told me it was a good bet.  The dealer overheard and he also said it was a good bet.  I have no idea if they were blowing smoke up my ass but it made me feel good at the time.  So did actually winning a decent pot with pocket Kings!
Over at the table with the crazy ladies, I sat one seat to the left of Ginger, who was sitting right next to Isabel.  On either side of them were young guys, both of whom seemed to really enjoy the antics of the crazy ladies.
Before I get to those antics, let me finish off the poker for this session.  I called a 3-bet with pocket Queens, hit my set on the flop and took down a big pot.  Hitting a set of 5’s soon thereafter also got me a nice pot.  I had doubled up my $200 buy in within half an hour.  Unfortunately I lost a bit over half my profits—slowly at least—over the course of this session.
But poker wasn’t the real story of the evening, if you’re wondering.  Isabel was long off the clock and had been drinking for awhile.  When I got to the table though, Ginger was still on the clock and thus not indulging.  At some point during the session, she went off the clock and started making up for lost time.
Isabel was flirting—I guess that’s why you’d call it—with the two young guys.  I knew she is married and has kids, one of whom is close to the ages of these two young guys (if not older).  I know this because she told us, and I’ve heard her say this before, when she was sober.  Which was not a condition she was currently in.
When the kid next to me won a pot from her (or it could have been the other way around), she asked the boy to kiss her.  He got up to oblige and he gave her the most chaste little peck on the cheek that you could imagine.  She acted almost insulted. “What kind of a kiss is that?  That’s like a kiss a boy gives his mother.  That’s how my son kisses me!”  But the guy didn’t attempt improve upon his kiss, at least that time.  She got kisses of a similar variety from the kid sitting next to her as well.
She got a little physical with both of the guys, but nothing too out of hand.  But she did kind of try to sit on their chairs, or on their laps, a couple of times.  But then, at one point she kinda sat on Ginger’s lap too.
Later when the kid next to me had somehow earned another kiss, she got up, moved her face really close into his, and moved her hair out of the way, practically shoved her neck to his lips and said he should kiss her on the neck.  Which he did.
At one point, there was a discussion of the kissing and Isabel said she would draw the line at tongue—no tongue was allowed.  Then she immediately said, “Well, maybe a little tongue.” But I never saw anything like that at the table.
Turns out the kid next to me was a tourist on his last nite in town, and the kid next to Isabel was a local grinder—who had an amusing story about having been banned by Another Big Strip Casino recently for something he did when he was so freakin’ drunk that he couldn’t remember it.  This time as he got drunk all he did was start making ridiculously large preflop raises every single hand.  Annoying.
The two crazy ladies were now ordering shots and the two lads were only too eager to keep up with them.  The kid next started messing around with one of the dealers in a way he should not have.  He made a motion as if he was going to steal the chips of the fill the dealer had just called for.  The dealer was not amused even tho the kid never touched any chips.  Later, in a hand he was not part of, he started to rearrange the cards on the board as the dealer was calling out the winner.  The dealer really gave him a hard time about that.
The kid was also chatting up Ginger quite a bit, asking about her relationship status and whatnot.  Ginger is more or less the same age as Isabel, so there was quite a bit of age difference there.  It didn’t appear to bother the kid.  He was pretty much hitting on her.
But he didn’t get as friendly with her as Isabel did.  I mentioned that Isabel sat on Ginger’s lap once.  Another time I looked over and saw Isabel had her hand more or less in Ginger’s lap.  She was pulling something off it, it seemed.  Ginger asked what the hell she was doing.  Isabel had something in her hand that she had presumably pull off (not out of) Ginger’s pants.
“What is this?” Isabel asked.  Then she said, “Oh, it’s a hair.”  Everyone who heard that laughed, thinking of the location where she had retrieved the errant hair.  Isabel got it too. “It’s too long.  You need a shave.  Do you want me to shave you?”
O….K…..   Two days before, I saw girl-on-girl motor-boating in a poker room.  But this…this, this would make that seem G-rated.  Ginger didn’t respond to Isabel.  Instead, she turned to me, and leaning behind the kid who was hitting on her, said to me, “Did you hear that?  I’m being harassed here.”  Um, yeah, Ginger, I heard it.  Boy did I ever hear it!
Once Ginger had had a few drinks, she wanted to introduce the two of them to everyone as Stephanie and Isabel again.  The problem was, she couldn’t remember Isabel’s stripper name (she barely remembered “Stephanie”).  Fortunately yours truly was there to remind her.
Oh, and once Ginger had had a few drinks in her, I decided to be bold and ask her about the motor-boating scene I had witnessed two nights before (again, this post here).  So I asked her if the woman in Seat 7—the motor-boatER—was indeed her friend, as Prudence had told me.  I described her (a description I won’t repeat here for the same reasons I use pseudonyms, so as not to make it easy to identify her).  She said yes, she is definitely her friend.  Then I asked her if she knew the girl who was motor-boatED, ie, the gal with the humongous rack.  And yes, I described her by saying something like, “And her friend, the girl with the extremely large breasts, do you know her too?”  She said yes, but as I later found out that there was a miscommunication about this (sorry, this will be explained in the follow up post).
I had to ask, and I can’t remember if I ever asked a woman this before, “Are your friend’s breasts real?”
“Of course not,” she exclaimed.  But at least she wasn’t offended by my question.  Then I asked if she was a stripper, because as I explained in that previous post, I really couldn’t understand anyone who wasn’t in that line of work getting such ridiculously large fake tits.
All she said was, “It’s not just strippers who do that, you know.”  OK, I dropped the subject.
Sometime during the evening, Isabel said she wanted a foot-long.  But she wasn’t talking about the kind of hot dog they sell at the ballparks.  Another guy at the table said, “Well, I guess I could give it to her twice.”
The more they drank, the louder they got.  As with last time, they could be heard laughing, swearing, and generally being outrageous throughout the room.  So much so that the Shift Supervisor came by at one point to tell them, “Ladies, you need to keep it down.  I just came from the break room and I could hear you in there.  But they really didn’t quiet down.
Later, another player showed up who got Isabel’s attention.  He was more in Ginger and Isabel’s age category.  It was obviously he knew the two of them from before.  I figured out that he used to live in Vegas and played in this room all the time but had moved away and was now just visiting.  But he made friends with the dealers.  He indicated that he had actually had been at a club the night before with one of the BSC dealers.  When Isabel saw him, she gave him a big hug, and then had him sit behind her while he was waiting for a seat.  But instead of sitting behind her as is the rule, their sits were even, up to the table, and they were sitting extremely close to each other.  Basically, they were in each other’s laps.
By the time Jack came to the table, the party was in high gear.  As Ginger and Isabel were laughing, swearing and throwing chips around, and Isabel was flirting outrageously with the two young kids at the table, he looked at me and said, “Great blogging material, huh?”  I laughed and nodded. “You bet.”  Then he asked, “How is it that seems that you’re always at the table when this stuff is happening?”  I couldn’t explain it but it’s something my friends ask me as well.  He said he could hear the two ladies from the table farthest away in the room.
That’s not the end of the night, not by a long shot.  Ginger told me she got a text from the friend of hers who I saw at Red Rock two nights before and….oh darn, I will have to stop now.  I need to cater to those of you who don’t like my long posts, so I’ll save the rest for next time (or soon, anyway).  Hopefully I will have time to write up the rest within the next couple of days.  ((EDITED TO ADD:  Well it took more than a couple of days but the continuation of this night is now posted and can be found here))


  1. OK, but so I can properly prepared, just how hairy are you?

    And are we talking full Brazilian or something more modest?

  2. Executive Summary:

    See Rob.
    See Rob drool.
    Drool Rob drool.

  3. Rob, you wouldn't be prepared regardless of how much information you aquire. Plus, I'm not telling!

  4. No, no, no, Josie. You've already accepted--totally unsolicited, I might add. See your first, one word comment, above. So this WILL happen.

    But, I suppose I can understand that you wouldn't want to broadcast the details all over the web. Though I hasten to point out that you HAVE already shared your bra-size (36-C) with the entire online world.

    So if you prefer just emailing the details to me, that's fine. I look forward to hearing from you.

    BTW, I've already picked out the title of inevitable blog post that will result (assuming the actual event doesn't suggest a more appropriate title). "Shaving Miss Josie."

  5. Screw those neanderthals who read at 10 words a minute. Longer is definitely better for these posts Rob.

    1. Thanks, Neo. Appreciate the defense. I know that there are some people who have sampled my blog and stopped coming back and no doubt some of them might just be fed up with the lengthy posts. So be it.

      But I suspect most of the folks who regularly gripe about my verbosity are at least somewhat kidding, because after all, they keep coming back to read the next post--and complain! :)

  6. Rob, I'd put the odds at 90%+ that Joseee Wales is already Full Brazilian. There won't be much effort required on your part.
    If Josee Wales performs "road footsie" on you during the drive over to your hotel, you'll probably be in no mood to do a Brazilian anyway. I suspect the agenda at that point would be to hit the casino bar like a couple of AKs. F&^k the brazilian for the time being. Cheers, and keep the posts LONG!

    1. Interesting insight, Woody Only time will tell if you're guess is right.

      I notice Miss Josie has not yet returned to either deny or confirm your assessment, OR to withdrawal her participation from this event.