"Do You Like My Rack?"

“I ran into another of those women again.”

I quote from myself (because who else would quote me?).  That was the second sentence from this earlier post here.  It is what is known in the business as a “tease.”  I didn’t then have the time to relate the story of my encounter with this woman.  But I do now.  Or at least get started on that story.  You see, after I did that tease, I ran into that woman yet again, and I teased that evening here. Yes, the woman I’m about to tell you about is indeed the woman in the purple bra from that second post.  Sadly, I will not get to reveal what was behind the purple bra in this post.  Our first night together was wild enough for now.

By “those women” I mean one of those ladies who was so outrageous, in behavior, or in her comments, or both, that I can build an entire post around her….or even multiple posts. In this case, my first evening with this girl will be a two part post.  I really wanted to satisfy my readers who demand really long posts from me, but as you know, I prefer doing shorter posts, so I am selfishly stretching this tale over two posts.  Part 2 will follow shortly.

Women such as these are scattered throughout my blog archive.  The most notable is no doubt Prudence.  However, lately she has seemingly semi-retired from outrageousness and has become one of my best friends.   Another notable contributor was Natalee, who specialized in putting men on tilt very much intentionally.  I have no more stories about her as I write this, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I encountered her again somewhere down the road.

Which brings us to my first evening with Didi, as I will call her.  That is, of course, a pseudonym.  You will see how I came up with that name shortly.

I arrived at BSC for my evening poker session and was assigned a table.  I hadn’t even taken my seat yet when the girl in seat 9 said hello and asked me my name.

That caught me off guard but I told her my name and asked for hers.  She told me it was Didi (actually, she told me what I presume to be her real first name, but as I said, we are calling this gal “Didi”).

Her next comment to me was, “Welcome to the table, Rob.  I can tell you’re a nice guy.”

I guess I thanked her; I didn’t really know how to respond to that.

But her next comment really threw me off.  “Be careful with these Vegas women, Rob.  They’ll break your heart.  They’ll break the heart of a nice guy like you.”

I had not yet played a hand and had known this woman for all of 60 seconds.  I got the sense that this was not going to be an ordinary night of poker.

I may have thanked her for the warning, too shocked to say anything else. 

Now Didi was definitely cute.  She had short blonde hair and was fairly young—at least from my perspective.  I’m terrible at guessing ages these days but I guess I’ll ballpark it as anywhere from mid-20’s to mid-30’s, with a wide margin for error. 

There was one other thing about Didi I couldn’t help noticing—well, two things, really.  Yes, it seemed that under that rather tight t-shirt (not particularly low cut) she was hiding two reasonably large breasts.

Of course, that is not the sort of thing I normally even notice, and I never, ever mention such things on the blog.  But having spent two evenings with Didi, I feel confident in saying that Didi would actually be offended if she found out that I failed to point this out to my readers.

A cute, young blonde with big tits expressing an immediate interest in my love life?  I’m listening.

However, it wasn’t very long before she started talking about her boyfriend.  So I guess she was not auditioning to be the next woman to break my heart.

Or perhaps she was more interested in the other woman at the table, a girl in her same age category.  Didi went out of her way at one point to compliment the other girl on her looks.  “You’re so pretty,” she said.  I guess she got some reaction to that from some of the guys at the table, so she announced, “She and I will be making out later.”  The other woman laughed nervously.

The other woman was Jewish, by the way.  How do I know this?  Well, at one point, totally out of the blue, Didi asked her, “Do you know Jesus on a personal basis?”  The woman said she did not, because she was Jewish.  Didi explained that once, when she was in a supermarket somewhere in Florida, a woman who was a total stranger to her came up to her and asked Didi that very same question.

We were there to play poker and it didn’t take me very long to figure out that Didi had some interesting habits as a poker player.  One, she swore a lot.   There were many “oh shits,” and “ah, f***s” coming out of her mouth.  And like the aforementioned Natalee, she had this habit of telling us about her hand. “I have a crap hand, but I’m betting anyway,” or “I have a good hand, so I’ll raise,” or “That was a bad call or a bad raise” or something like that.  Although they look nothing alike, I started to wonder if perhaps Didi was Natalee’s daughter.

But her oddest bit was that she liked to bet or raise in prime numbers.  So $11 or $17 were her favorite bets.  Don’t ask me what she had against the number 13.  Bad luck, perhaps?

Whenever she wanted to bet or raise, she had to stop and think what was the appropriate prime number to make her bet.  She couldn’t’ raise to $35, she had to raise to $37.  She would occasionally ask other players what the next prime number was after “X”, where “X” was too small to be a raise.  I know there’s math in poker, but this was a bit strange.

Didi may have been acting a bit like Natalee, but she didn’t have the same effect on the players as Natalee did.  She wasn’t putting anyone on tilt, dammit.  And she played most hands, and raised most hands (or called a raise, though she rarely three-bet).  And her raises were big.  Her preflop raise was $17 more often when than it was $11.

And just my luck, I was pretty card dead.  I looked for ways to expand my range to take advantage of the big pots that Didi was often creating but the cards just wouldn’t cooperate.  And when I did get a hand that I could speculate with, the flop missed me.  Didi was very much a calling station after the flop and she was also incredibly lucky, hitting her hands whenever she needed them most.  She also pulled off a few bluffs—a few that we saw, anyway.  Maybe there were more that we didn’t see.

Not long after I was there, she told the dealer, “If I win this pot, I’ll chop it with you,” meaning she would give the dealer half the pot as a tip.  I’m not sure if she won that pot but she said it enough times for it to finally happen.  She won a pot of between $50 and $100 I guess and, good to her word, she counted out half of the pot and started to shove it towards the dealer.  But not quite.

“Give me a kiss on the cheek first,” she demanded of the dealer.

This particular dealer might well be described as “gruff.”  A middle-aged guy (or maybe a little beyond that), he doesn’t always have the most charming demeanor when he deals, although he and I are pals and he’s always extremely friendly with me (though he’s never given me a kiss on the cheek, thankfully).

“I’d like to, but….the cameras.”  He pointed upward.

“F*** the camera’s.  If you want the tip, you have to kiss me on the cheek.”

“OK, I will, but after I’m finished dealing here.”

“No, kiss me now or no tip.”

So, with great reluctance, and as quickly as he could, he leaned over and gave her a very, very brisk peck on the cheek.

She gave him half the pot and bragged about keeping her word and then asked the dealer, “Was that the best you’ve ever had?”  I think she was referring to the size of her tip.  “Biggest tip of the night?”

He said, “Yeah, best of the week….of the month,” as he thanked her.

This dealer doesn’t know anything about my blog, to the best of my knowledge.  But the next dealer sure did.  It was my buddy Jack, the very first BSC dealer to learn about my blog.  He reads it and has even commented on one of my posts.  It was Jack who, not long ago, gave me the heads up that Natalee had returned and therefore more blogging material was waiting for me at another table (see here).  I was across from him so we couldn’t really converse in private, but we kept nodding to each other as Didi said one outrageous thing after another.  Every so often, when she said something or did something, I’d say to him, “And I’m here to see this.”  He knew exactly what I meant.  At one point he said to me, “How are you always here when things like this happen?”  We were both amused.

So when Didi promised Jack the same deal she did with the previous dealer, I was curious to see if he would indeed kiss her when she demanded it.  Sure enough, she won a nice pot after making the promise to Jack to chop the pot with him.  And after splitting the pot in two, she made the same demand of Jack that she had made to the previous dealer.

“You have to kiss me on the cheek first.”  She pointed to the exact spot she wanted the kiss to land. 

Unlike the previous dealer, he didn’t hesitate a bit (I wondered if he had either seen that happen with the previous dealer or if the previous dealer had perhaps tipped him off).  He immediately zoomed in for the peck on the cheek.

As he did, I said, as pointedly as I could, “And I’m here to see that.”  Jack of course knew exactly what I meant—that he had just guaranteed himself an appearance in an upcoming blog post.

“You didn’t see anything,” he said.  But you know, you can’t unsee something, Jack. 

At one point early on she started announcing she was only going to play a few more hands before leaving.  Not surprisingly, she played at least an hour after first saying this.

But she did ask the floor person for a chip rack.  I’m going to call the floor person Monte because that’s what I’ve called him in the past when I told stories about him as a dealer.  Monte is in the same general age group as Didi.  He’s a good guy, is one of my BSC buddies, and has good sense of humor.  And, he tries to be professional at all times. 

So Monte brought a rack over and said something like, “Here’s a rack.”

Instead of thanking him (or perhaps, in addition to thanking him), she said, “Do you like my rack?”

At that point, she stood up so we could all get a better look at her rack.  I have to admit, that when she stood up, it did look even more impressive than when she was sitting down.

This is a total guess here, but I would be willing to bet more than a few bills that Monte did indeed like Didi’s rack.

But of course, there’s absolutely no good way to answer that question.  It’s a classic no win situation. The absolutely last thing he can possible say to her is, “No, I don’t like your rack.”  The second to last thing he can say to her is, “Yes, I do indeed like your rack.”

It was totally unfair to ask a guy that question where he works.  I mean, assuming he wants to keep his job.  If she were to complain to his boss that he said anything about her rack—good or bad—he’d be fired.  And Didi knew it.  Monte said nothing.  Didi said, “Cuz I like mine.”  Again, Monte said nothing.  So she said, “Are you saying you don’t like it?  Cuz that would be inappropriate, too.”

Monte left the table but Didi got up to talk to him briefly, and when she came back, she said, “He likes my rack.”

“He told you that?” I asked.

“He couldn’t, but he didn’t deny it.  He said, ‘I can neither confirm or deny.’”

She racked up all her chips but continued to play.  The dealer, Jack, told her she had to take one working stack out of the rack to play from, a rule almost all poker rooms have.

She took one stack out and started to take out another when Jack told her, “You’re fine, you have a working stack.”

She responded, “I have a working stack…..and they’re 36 Double D’s.”

Everyone laughed and then, looking around at all the guys at the table, she asked us, “Is that ok?  Is that playable? ” More laughter.  “Is that ok?”

They say there’s no such thing as a dumb question, but I believe she had just proved them wrong.

She was sitting right next to the dealer, Jack, and appeared to be asking him specifically.  I’m pretty sure I heard Jack tell her something like, “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

And now you know why I decided to give this girl the pseudonym “Didi.”    

Now I know what you’re all wondering.  Did she look like a 36DD?  Afterall, people have been known to lie at the poker table.  Some people make a living doing just that.

Well, I’m certainly no expert in this field, but based on my limited study of boobage, I would say that 36DD was definitely in her range.

But I do have to point out that 36 is not a prime number, for whatever that’s worth.

Not sure whether it was before or after this but someone mentioned being a dancer or wanting to be a dancer.  And she announced that she couldn’t be a dance because, “I’m fat.  I’ve got big hips.”  And she stood again to show off her hips.  She did have big hips, to go along with her big chest and yes, even a pretty big booty, but there’s no way I’d call her “fat.”

And that’s where I’ll leave part 1.  Part 2 will feature a Cowboy from Missouri, Robin Williams, a flying celphone and flopped quads, among other things.  Flopped quads?  Yes, the next post will actually include some poker.  See here for part 2. .