7th Anniversary Post: Remembering the Hard Rock Hooker

I publish this post on the seventh anniversary of this blog's debut.  Yes this is a reprint of the very first post I ever published (well, sort of, read on).

You see, a few weeks back I suddenly realized I was coming up to the anniversary of the blog, and I got the idea of commemorating it by reposting my first blog post.  But why do this for the seventh anniversary?  It's not like seven is normally a big deal.  I guess i should have done this two years ago for the fifth anniversary--but the truth is I didn't think of it.  And why not wait for the 10th anniversary?  Well, because I might not remember then.  Also, who knows if I'll still be doing the blog three years from now.

Anyway, technically, this isn't quite the first post I did.  On September 20, 2011, I actually published two posts, just a few minutes apart.  You see, I wanted to make sure I had enough content ready so that this blog wasn't going to just be a one-post wonder.  I published two that first day and two more the very next day.  Then after a day or two another post, and then another day with two more posts.  By the end of September, I had nine posts up.

The actual first post was a review of my previous experience staying at the Excalibur.  Since that experience dates back to like 2010 it has almost no relevance today.  In fact, I should take it down, but I don't want to diminish my actual post-count. I guess I thought I might periodically review hotels in Vegas, but I never did that again.  It was just a mindless rant.

Besides, this post below is a hooker story--obviously the first one of many to appear here.  What better way to kick off the blog?  As you know, hooker stories are a staple of the blog.

For the record, I was able to research this and figured out that the actual incident I describe below took place in the summer of 2008--so this is like the 10th anniversary of the story taking place..  I can't vouch for things being the same over at the Hard Rock.  Perhaps the place is hooker-free.  Perhaps they've replaced the hot female bartenders at the pool with senior citizens (I rather doubt that).

I must admit, when I reread this post to publish it again, I sort of cringed.  I feel that if I wrote this today, it would be a lot different in terms of writing style, word usage, sensitivity (ie, a bit more PC) and even grammar.  I was tempted to change a few words and some phraseology.  But I decided to present it in all it's original glory--I didn't change a thing.  But I feel I'm not the same person today who wrote this seven years ago.

Oh, I did change one thing.  Back when I started the blog, I didn't add pictures to the posts.  I didn't start doing that for a few months--in fact, I didn't even know you could do that.  I'm sure you will all agree that the blog is better with the pics.

I'm sure this post, like a lot of my early ones, was adapted from an email I sent to my friends relating this story to them (using those emails was one of the reasons I was able to post so much material right out of the gate).

Hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane!


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A few years ago I decided to go to Hard Rock (not a pseudonym) to check out the pool.  I told the guy I wanted to play blackjack but he didn't seem to care.  Not sure if it was because it was a weekday or not, but all he was there for was to make sure no one took anything glass into the pool area and to make sure they didn't take any bags there (I guess they don't want anyone smuggling outside food and drinks in).  Anyway, I got into the pool area and looked around.

Oh my gosh.  This is the place I wanted my ashes scattered when I die.  The female employees who work in the pool area--all of them wearing bikinis with very tiny sarongs wrapped very tightly around their bikini bottoms--are nothing short of sensational.  I mean they all have killer bodies. Unlike the cocktail waitresses inside, they all seem to be natural on top.  Basically, they don't hire girls for the pool unless they make the average Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model look like Rosie O'Donnell.  I'm not kidding, these girls were unbelievable.

Of course, the clientele in and around the pool isn't bad either.  About 80% of the girls there are various degrees of hot.  Every now and again you see a girl in a bathing suit and you wish she was covered more but that's rare.  This is eye candy at its absolute best.

I eventually made my way over to the bar/casino area.  Behind the bar, there were two female bartenders in turquoise bikinis with virtually perfect bodies.  Don't ask me what their faces looked like, I never got there.  They could look like Greta Van Sustern for all I know.  They not only had one swim up blackjack table but three blackjack tables next to the bar for people NOT in the pool.  These were manned by two awesome looking bikini -clad dealers and one guy, who, sorry ladies, was wearing a shirt.  The minimums for the BJ were $15, $25, and $100.  Frankly, the girl dealing at the $15 table was so hot that I was tempted to play there even at $15 a throw just to get a better view of this gal, but there was no room.  And as hot as the other dealer was, I wasn't quite prepared to play BJ at $100 a hand to get close to her.

But I decided that, while it might not be worth a hundred bucks or so to hang around, it was definitely worth the price of an overpriced drink.  There was an open spot at the bar which I took, which offered a pretty good view of the pool, a great view of the two awesome bartenders and a nice view of various hot girls walking right past me to and from the bar, the casino area and the ladies room.  Also the hot waitresses getting drinks to deliver poolside.  It's pretty much the best experience a guy could have without taking off his pants.

So I sat at the bar and waited to order a drink.  I knew the drink would be ridiculously expensive but I figured it was worth it to buy me, say, 1/2 hour at this venue. I decided to order a Bud Light Lime that I had seen one guy at the bar drinking....in the always stays cold aluminum bottle.  I had heard a couple of guys at poker the day before raving about how great these new bottles were.  And I figured domestic beer would be cheaper than a Corona or a mixed drink.  However, the bartender was totally ignoring me, like she didn't see me.  Not really a problem, gave me more time to enjoy the view.

Which I was.  But then at one point I noticed a few feet from me a girl drying herself off who I definitely did not want to see in a bikini, even though she was indeed wearing one.  This was an example of the one in five patrons who wasn't hot.  Oh, I guess her face was nice enough, but she was definitely too heavy to get away with wearing a bikini.   I wouldn't call her obese, but she was a million miles from being "trim."   Even though she did have big tits that were natural because her bikini showed a lot of cleavage and they were quite sagging.  Hey, if a girl is showing lotsa cleavage and I want to turn away, you know there's a problem, right?

So it didn't take me very long to look away from her and go back to looking at the hot bartender who was ignoring me.  But, within five seconds, the girl I was just describing came over to me, rubbed up against me and said hello.  She was actually getting me a little wet--and not in a good way.  She started chatting me up and since I wasn't born yesterday I immediately realized that the gal was a hooker.  So, they don't just work on the Strip casinos at around 1:00AM, it seems.

She asked me my name and gave me hers (which I immediately forgot) and asked where I was from, what I was here for, what I like to play, was I going into the pool, etc.  And constantly rubbing up against me.  She even complimented my shirt, which was just a plain old pocket T like I usually wear.  I lied to her and said I was leaving town in a couple of hours but it did not deter her.  In hindsight, I know I should have said that I didn't have a room at this hotel to see how she would deal with that, although I thought that was implied by my saying I was leaving town soon since this was around 3:00PM and I would have been checked out of my room by now.  Subtlety was wasted on this girl, apparently.

I was annoyed because she was just a total distraction from what I was really there for.  I mean, even if I was open to the idea of hiring a hooker, this was not the girl I would ever hire.  I probably shouldn't admit this but if I'm being totally honest, if this gal had looked like one of the bartenders, it's not outside the realm of possibility that this story might have a totally different ending.  And one I wouldn't be putting in a blog post. But this girl?  No way.  She would have to pay me, not the other way around.

Now here's the most embarrassing part.  She asked me if I was going to order a drink.  I said that I was trying to but that I was being ignored.  Then she asked if I would buy her one.  I just didn't know how to handle this situation.  I guess my instinct was not to be rude and say no.  Or to tell her to get lost like I should have.  Or make up something about meeting my girlfriend any minute.  So before I knew what I was saying, I said yes, I would buy her a drink.  Such a gentlemen!  Such a putz!

She immediately flagged down the bartender who was ignoring me.  She ordered something, I couldn't hear what, and I ordered the Bud Light Lime.  I really didn't know what it was called so I had to point out the guy who was drinking what I was talking about.  The bartender went to get the drinks.  I got out a twenty figuring that there was no way two drinks could be more than that, including tip.

What I didn't realize was that this slut ordered two drinks.  The bartender put two drinks in front of her (one was huge bottle of bottled water and I didn't know what the other one was) and gave me my beer.  Then she said the tab was $33!  Thirty Three dollars!  I gulped, reached back for my wallet and took out another $20.  You have to tip a buck a drink, right, so that's $36 this little adventure is costing me.  I looked at the receipt.  My beer was $7, so was the bottled water (Large Fiji water).  Now the seven bucks for the beer is outrageous enough, but how do they have the balls to charge the same price for the goddamn water?  And the other drink?  That was a "Red Bull Tiki" and the cost of that was $19!!!!!  Yikes!.  What the hell is a Red Bull Tiki anyway?  For $19 it better be one awesome drink.

Well, it was an expensive lesson but I was trying to figure a way out of it.  I didn't really want to sit there with this chunky hooker and chat with her.  Fortunately, after she had the drinks, she asked me if I was going to be  there that night.  I reminded her that I was leaving in a couple of hours.  She asked I was sure and if I might be interested in joining her for a hot tub party instead.  I insisted that I was not staying long.  She then started to pack up her stuff and said she was taking off but told me, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back."  Screw that.  As soon as she was out of view, I grabbed my overpriced beer and got the hell out of there!  Back inside the casino.  I didn't think she'd be trolling inside, not in that bikini that was revealing much too much flesh.

I do wonder if this gal has some kind of "arrangement" with the hotel.  She was definitely in the pool and the pool is for guests only.  I doubt she has a room at the Hard Rock.  Does she sneak by or does she have a deal with the hotel?  Perhaps the hotel gets a cut, or maybe the hotel is just okay with it because it brings in customers?

Anyway, it was a pretty annoying experience, and not just because of the $28 I was out (I was willing to spend $8 for the beer I ordered for myself).  It cost me a good half an hour or more of eye candy viewing.  Because there was no way I was hanging around the pool and risking having to deal with her again.....or perhaps some other hooker who was working the pool.

The saving grace is that, at least I got a great story out of it.  By the next day it almost seemed worth it for the story.  And now, I can honestly say that I have spent money on a hooker.  And also, that I got screwed by one.  Just not in the way you'd want to.

It Makes You Wonder, Doesn't It?

My friend Don texted me this tale the other night, something he had just witnessed while attending a Stevie Wonder concert at Park MGM (yes, he doesn't spend all of his free time playing poker).  He thought my readers, particularly those of you who are fans of a particular kind of popular post, would find it of interest.  So thank you Don, and I'll let Don tell you what he saw at the concert.

Directly in front of me are two "older" Indian gentlemen (late 40s-early 50s) and two attractive, twenty-something ladies, one African-American, one Asian.  I'm sure the show cost the Indian gentlemen quite a bit since they weren't just paying for the tickets but also for their companions' time.  So, all show the guys are clearly into the music and the ladies are sitting there bored, posting on Instagram, not clapping, not singing, not dancing, nothing.  Then the last song starts and they both start rocking out.  What song did Stevie Wonder play to elicit that reaction from two "escorts" you ask???

"Part Time Lovers"

I can't make this shit up.

The Buck Naked / Stripper Tournament

This was the first tournament I played in Vegas last month.  I believe I already mentioned here that I didn't have any success, tournament-wise, during this trip.  So there will be no write ups of long tournament runs ending with a big pay day, or even me complaining about the dreaded min-cash.  But I had a few interesting experiences at some of the tournaments I played before busting out prematurely and this is one of those.

It was the Golden Nugget $150 that they had going nearly every day during the series, with a $20K guarantee.  It started at 1pm and it had a dinner break so it was pretty much ideal for me.

Anyway, the tournament started and of course the tables were not full. I was sitting at seat 6 (out of 10) and the seat on my immediate right (seat 5) was one of the empty seats.  A few hands into the first level, I hear and sense someone taking that empty seat next to me.  I didn't look at him.  And suddenly I hear a voice, "Oh and I'm sitting next to my buddy here!"  I look up and I recognized "Buck Naked."

You all remember Buck Naked, right?  That's the name I gave the author of three guest blog posts three years ago (starting with this one here) .  As Buck explained at the time, he has three hobbies: poker, cars and beers.  Well also, he has an eye for the ladies as you'll see if you check out his guest posts.  I've encountered Buck numerous times in Vegas, often around WSOP time, for obvious reasons.  And wouldn't you know, Buck, who had been in Vegas for awhile by this point, had on this day just checked into the Golden Nugget and decided to play in this tournament.  And by an amazing coincidence managed to be assigned to the seat directly to my right.  What are the odds that two players, neither of whom lives in Vegas but know each other through the magic of the internet, end up sitting next to each other at the same tournament (when there's a bunch of fairly similar tournaments going on around town at the exact same time)?

Anyway, Buck and I spent some time catching up, it had been at least a year since we'd seen each other in person.  But he is a loyal fan of my blog so he was fairly up-to-date with what I've been up to.  And it didn't take Buck too long for him to announce to the whole table, "If you want to read a good blog, this guy has the best blog on the internet (pointing to me)."  Well I was a bit embarrassed but certainly appreciated the kudos.  But it always feel a little awkward whenever someone mentions my blog at the poker table.  He gave the URL but I said, "No, don’t look at it now, it'll make it too easy to play against me."

Sometime later there was a discussion of all the tournaments going on around town and Buck told everyone that I was the expert on the tournaments and knew pretty much everything about every tournament going on in town right now.  A slight exaggeration but somewhat accurate. 

Later, I was a little surprised when Buck missed another chance to give me some props.  One of the guys at the table was talking about playing at Caesars over the weekend.  And he mentioned that on Friday and Saturday night, they line up for their nightclub right in front of and around the poker room.  He said it was quite a sight to behold, all the barely dressed young ladies all lined up for the club. A really great view.

You don't say.

Well by this time I was surely expecting Buck to not only agree but point out that I was indeed the expert on this phenomenon, and had even written a few blog posts about it, and given it a name.  But although Buck agreed that it was an enjoyable experience, he didn't mention my credentials in this area.

I must admit I came close to saying something myself.  I was thinking of saying, "Yeah, I wonder if anyone has come up with a name for those girls lining up like that?"  But I said nothing.

Now perhaps Buck was just being a gentleman and didn't want to bring up The Slut Parade.  You see, there were ladies present.  Almost half of our table, four to be exact, was female.  And strangely enough, all the females were sitting right next to each other.  Seats 7-10 were all women.  The seating assignments were so weird that we kept making reference to it, it was like the men vs the women.  So perhaps Buck didn't want to offend the ladies.

Two of the ladies were rather ordinary but two stood out.  One was an overly chatty Asian lady, who arrived to the table late waiting for a slot jackpot to be paid to her (but her chips were in play).  My goodness did that woman yak up a storm.

The other lady of note was a blonde woman who looked strangely familiar to me.  As soon as she came to the table, sometime after Buck did, I was sure I'd seen her before.  I would have bet anything  that I had seen before playing poker somewhere.  In fact, I was certain that I'd played with her before, somewhere.  I never could place her in a particular room.

As I said, she was blonde, long hair pulled back. Mid-30's maybe (I'm bad estimating ages). She was wearing a loose fitting shirt, nothing even remotely sexy.  In fact it looked like she was not trying impress anyone with her appearance this particular day.  But somehow, despite the loose fitting shirt, I could tell that what was inside her shirt was, well, plentiful.

Anyway, it was a very friendly table and the ladies were all discussing their backgrounds and such and one of them asked the blonde gal where she was from and she said Vegas.  And they asked her what she did for a living and she said she was a dancer.

A dancer?  I dunno why exactly, but as soon as she said dancer I knew she was a stripper.  I mean, I didn't know it for an absolute fact, but I was like 99% sure she was a stripper.  There are other kind of dancers besides strippers, sure.  But this gal didn't look like a ballerina to me.  Or even a chorus girl.  Or a party-pit dancer, for that matter.

A little later there was a discussion about tipping.  The female dealer was saying that it is known fact that men tip better than women (something I've always heard myself).  Well the blonde dancer said that she works for tips, so she overtips.  She'll tip $10 on a $20 pot (she'd already said that she usually plays cash games instead of tournaments, except for this time of year).

Hmm….a dancer who works for tips?  Yeah, that pretty much confirmed to me that she was indeed a professional clothing remover. 

She was a fairly aggressive player.  Thus, she was the first of the ladies to bust from our table.  I saw her rebuy and play at a different table. A few minutes after she was gone, the remaining ladies were discussing her and one of them said (or perhaps asked the others) that she was probably a stripper.  They all unanimously agreed that she was.  And they were totally cool with it, totally non-judgmental.

Now I had planned to cue Buck about my suspicions when she was gone. I thought that he might not have heard the comments about her being a dancer and working for tips.  But I never got the chance before the ladies discussed it.  When I said to Buck, "Did you hear that? I was going to tell you myself."  He just nodded.

Oh, what a naïve fool I was.  Let's fast forward to a week or two later when I was playing at the very same tournament.  Guess who was at my table again?  No, not Buck Naked, just the blonde gal who gets buck naked professionally.  Yeah, there she was. Another strange coincidence.  This time she was wearing something a little more revealing and I could see her tramp stamp, her leg tattoos and a little bit of side boob.  If I were an oddsmaker, I'd make it a 6-1 favorite that her chest was not original factory equipment. 

Well Buck was still in town and he had texted me that he had just cashed in a tournament in another part of town.  I told him that our stripper friend was at my table again.  He texted me back that he thought she worked at a certain strip club which he named.

What th-?  How could he possibly know that?  Well, it turns out that Buck had actually had a conversation with the young woman during one of the breaks, introduced himself, and found out where she works.  Yeah, by the time I mentioned to him my suspicion that she was a stripper, he had already had a conversation with her during the break and confirmed it.  He never told me.  You dog, Buck, you dog.

Then he went on to say that she had given him her phone number. Really?  Why would a stripper give some guy her phone number?  Let's just say Buck and the stripper are not exactly close in age. 

By the time Buck and I had gotten this far in our texting, she had already busted.  I mentioned this to him but then I told him that once again, she had re-entered and was sitting at a nearby table (I guess she likes double entry). 

Now when I first heard from Buck he said he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was flush with cash from that tournament he'd just finished up.  He was thinking of coming downtown and joining me in the Nugget tournament.  Another possibility was driving out to Pahrump to purchase some affection legally (you know from his guest posts how wild Buck is).  Now he was thinking of a third option…..he texted the stripper to see if she might have some ideas of how he could pass the time.  Strip Poker, perhaps?

I guess he texted her before I had a chance to tell him that she was back in the tourney.  He assumed he wouldn't hear back from her and presumably got ready for a visit to the desert.  But it wasn't long before I heard back from him, telling me that she had responded and wanted to come over to his hotel room for a "private dance."

Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?

But she was still in the tournament and wanted to meet up with after (or perhaps another day, if she made a, you'll pardon the expression, deep run).  Buck wasn't going to wait around for what he wanted, and I am also led to believe they couldn't come to terms on what an acceptable fee would be for her private dance.  So to the best of my knowledge they never got together.

And yes, now that I've explained all this, I suppose a more accurate title for this post would be The Buck Naked/Hooker tournament, but I like the way it sounds the way I went with and when I came up with my title, I didn't really intend to reveal all these extra sordid details.  It just sort of happened.

Now, as for the poker, I'll spare most of the sad tale and just get to the last two hands for me.  Card dead the entire day, I started level 8 with a stack of $4,600 (starting stack was 15K). The blinds were 75/300/600 so you can see I was quite desperate.  So I opened shoved 8-7 offsuit.  Yeah, that's how desperate I was.  I think I was in late position so there weren't that many left who could call me.  I was called by Ace-Jack.  Well at least I had two live cards, right?  I didn't see an 8 or a 7 on the flop.  Instead, it came out 10-9-6!  Wow.  Flopping a straight there was pretty cool.  I had gotten my much needed double up.

But I was still desperate, still pretty much in shove or fold mode especially as we were almost done with that level and about to play blinds of 100/400/800.  Buck was the big blind so I was under-the gun.  With pocket 10's it was easy for me to go all-in.  It folded around to a big stack, who asked for a count (I think it was a bit under 8K, not sure).  After tanking a bit longer he called.  Then it folded to Buck who stood up, picked up his chips and announced "all-in."  He too was short stacked, but he had a few more chips than I did.

I was relieved to see the big stack flip over two 6's.  But I was really surprised to see Buck turn over Ace-Queen offsuit.  Really?  Sure that's more than good enough to open shove.  But to get it all in there after a shove and a call seemed a little questionable.  Buck later explained to me that he wanted to "chip up or leave."  So a chance to get a triple up—or be out of the tournament and move on to the next activity—really appealed to him.  I totally understand.  Sometimes when your short like that it's easy to take a big risk because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Anyway, the flop was all bricks, as was the turn. Though the turn kind of scared me—it was a King and when I first saw it, I thought it was a Queen.  No, just a King.  The Queen came on the river.  Yes, it did.  Buck took my chips, got a bunch from the big stack and got the triple up he needed.  And I got…shown the door.  My poker was over for the day.

The next day I heard from Buck.  In that hand where I busted, he was one river card away from being out himself (the big stack would have taken the rest of the chips I didn't have covered).  Instead, that Queen hit and he went on to make a huge, deep run, making the final table.  I think they ended up making a deal when they were down to five or six players and he received around a payout of around $2,500.

Poker, huh?

Vegas Hooker Attack—"Trick Roll"

Special Guest Post

By "Anonymous"

Introduction:  The guest post was submitted to me by a long-time reader of this blog after his recent visit to Vegas with his buddy.  I am only posting this with the understanding that his identity, and the identity of his friend, be withheld.  However, I totally trust my source and am quite confident that that the narrative you are about to read did indeed happen.

Every year, millions of men visit Vegas, and more than a few of them seek female companionship of the "by the hour" type.  This is a reminder that such activity is illegal in Clark County, where Vegas is located.  I thus present this as a cautionary tale.  And  I'd like to thank Anonymous for this "word to the wise."

Take it away, Anonymous…..

=================================

Warning!!! 

This accurate account of a Vegas Hooker Attack—"Trick Roll"—is NSFW.

During a recent trip to Vegas for poker and other activities with my good friend, he had what turned out to be a wildly violent encounter with a local "working girl."

Please keep in mind that the buddy I'm describing is not a young man, and is one of the kindest and most non-violent people I have met, yet he really likes the ladies and is a bit of a "horn dog."  On our second day in town, we had both played poker tourneys and cash games most of the day and I had a dinner date that nite with my caddy. So we split up about 7pm, and he continued to play cash games.  I have never seen this man drink any alcohol away from the table, but he does consume mass quantities of beer while playing his favorite game.  His drinking never seems to affect his play, even though his speech sometimes becomes a bit slurred after about 20 or more beers.  I knew he was heavy into the beers this night, and when he phoned me in a bit of a panic at 3am, I became very concerned for his welfare.

We both have been visiting Vegas on and off for the past 25 years, and the following is by far, the wildest true story I have ever heard.  It begins with him walking from one strip property to his hotel—an undisclosed property, which cannot be identified for obvious reasons. He had a winning session and was feeling no pain as he strolled to his hotel. As he passed a few shops and bars, a tall, attractive young female, with short skirt, and massive boobs, smiled and motioned to him as he passed by. He stopped and she approached, asking him what he was up to.  He related that he was just making his way back to his hotel, and she became very friendly, asking him if he wanted any company on his way back. Even though he was a bit apprehensive, he said she was so hot that he couldn't turn her away. 

When they got close to the hotel entrance, she suggested that he walk ahead and they should go in a side entrance to avoid security.  She followed him into the elevator and began groping his crotch on the way up to his floor, as they were alone in the elevator.  As they walked to his room she was telling him she was about to rock his world. He had no idea who would get really rocked a bit later.  When they entered his room, he told her she could not use her phone in the room at any time, and she agreed.  He told me he had heard stories of hookers going into the bathroom, calling their pimps or partners to set up robberies of their victims.   So, that's why he had her turn her phone off and leave it in her purse.

They discussed her fee and he said he would pay 50% now, the rest later. She said no way, so he laughed and gave her the full amount. She immediately pulled up her mini skirt to expose her shaved monkey and fine ass, then pulled up her tight top to expose those massive hooters, and sat on the bed beside him, saying, "take it off baby."  He disrobed, leaving on his socks and a baseball hat only, and laid back on the bed.  She began rubbing his leg, then asked for more money. He told her she had agreed to the original price and that he couldn't pay any more.  She told him she would need more money to get busy.. He refused and that's when things went crazy wild.  

After a short argument, he asked for a refund and she immediately pulled her clothes together and attempted to make her way to the door. He said he jumped up and said she had to give his money back, and she began reaching for the door.  He caught her at the door as she was opening it, and grabbed her purse to retrieve his money.  At this point she began screaming and scratching and swinging wildly at him.  She caught him under the eye with a sharp finger nail, and he said at that point he lost his cool and began to defend himself.  He put a foot to her torso and slammed her away from him, while holding onto the purse, still trying to retrieve his money. He later told me he wasn't going to let this bitch roll him.  Her body hit the opposite wall outside his room, but she didn't go down and charged at him again, swinging wildly.  This time he pulled a "Ray Rice" and decked her with a single punch; she hit the floor with blood coming out off her nose and mouth, clearly stunned. He recovered his money, dropped her purse beside her, and turned to re-enter his room, only to discover that his door had closed and was locked, and he was standing in the hallway, totally nude except for his socks and a baseball hat, with a bloody hooker lying on the floor in the hallway.

The hooker wasn't out cold for long and began to stir around on the floor. He kicked her phone down the hallway as she was attempting to get up. She had discovered that she wasn't going to be able to "trick roll" this man and had paid a heavy price for the attempt, so she fled.  He immediately took off his socks, covered his junk with them, and went down the back stairwell looking for security.  He exited the back stairwell onto an empty loading dock, ran down the dock and entered an unlocked door into a receiving area, and yelled for security. Someone way down the hallway saw him and called for security. They showed up a few minutes later and he told him he had been locked out of his room after an attempted robbery.  He was now surrounded by about 4 or 5 security guards and someone brought him a towel to wrap up with, and later, a robe.  After about 15 minutes of questioning, they escorted him back to his room, and let him in so he could dress.  He had told security that he wanted to move out of that room, because he thought the girl may have her pimp return to kill him.  They stood in his room as he packed up and told him he would have to come down to the security office and be interviewed by their staff and the LVPD. 

My buddy said he overheard the guards on the radio, saying that the female had called the LVPD and wanted to press charges against him.  She must have been new to the area. Hotel security had him fill out a long detailed written statement, beginning when he first encountered the hooker, and describing everything in detail.  He said he wrote so much, that he had to request a second page from them. After about 15 minutes, the LVPD showed up and entered the office. They checked him out, noticing the scratch under his eye that had bled a little, and asked if he wanted medical attention. He told them no and that hotel security had asked him as well.

The officer was a female, so my buddy thought he may be in deep shit, depending on what the hooker said to them. After a brief questioning, they asked him if he wanted to press charges against the female. They said the hooker wanted to press charges for assault and kidnapping, and if he was charged, he would have to bail out and come back to Vegas at a later date for court, and that the minimum charge would be solicitation for prostitution, a misdemeanor.  They warned him that this happens all the time in Vegas, and hookers always try to trick roll their marks,  My buddy told the police officer he just wanted it to end tonight and not press charges.  He said they interviewed the hooker in a separate room and she decided not to press charges either.  So the female officer told him she would give him a break this time since he did not even have a speeding ticket on his record, and they would let him go.  She warned him again, that if a young female smiled at him again, to look the other way and keep walking to avoid trouble in the future.  My buddy thanked the female officer profusely and left the office.  Hotel security told him he was being evicted from the property that night, and would have to find another hotel.  They wouldn't let him catch a taxi on property and escorted him off property. They also told him the hooker was being trespassed, meaning that she would be arrested if she ever set foot back on the property.

My buddy walked down the strip dragging his bag and procured a room at another location at 3am, and called me with the bad news.  He said he was still a bit shaky, but felt lucky that he avoided being locked up for the night, or longer.  He said the hooker was surely out of commission for a while, and she probably wouldn't be attempting to roll anyone in the near future, due to receiving that beat down in the hallway.

Moral of the story—if you are ever in Vegas and looking to rent a girlfriend, head out to Pahrump, about 45 minutes away, where its, LEGAL and SAFE!

A Couple of Inconsiderate Clowns

Inconsiderate, rude, thoughtless, selfish people drive me crazy. I find inconsiderate people very annoying.  So pardon me if I rant a bit.

This took place on my drive up to Vegas the beginning of last month.  I left late enough so that it was starting to seem like a good idea to grab lunch on the road rather than wait until I arrived in Vegas.  These days, my preferred stop for a meal en route is In-N-Out Burger.  Once I get on the I-15 (which I'm on for about 3/4's of the trip), there are three to choose from, but they're all within about 30-45 minutes of each other, and all less than half way to Vegas for me.  It would be nice if they opened one in Baker, which is a lot closer to Vegas. 

Whatever, I prefer to stop in the middle one of the three because it's usually less crowded than the other two.  That's probably  because people tend to stop at the first one they come to on the freeway, which is never the one in the middle no matter which direction you're coming from.  That middle one is located on Roy Rogers Drive in glorious Victorville, a favorite vacation spot of fellow blogger Mr. Ben. I suspect that since the location is in a shopping center, most of their clientele is locals, not I-15 travelers.

It was a bit early too, about 11:15 AM, so I really didn't expect it to be overly crowded.  But when I got inside, the place was a lot busier than I'm used to seeing.  In fact, it was just like every other In-N-Out—crowded and most of the tables were filled.  Just at the In-N-Outs in my general neighborhood, it is usually difficult to find a table.  There were some tables outside available, but it was so hot out that seemed like a desperation-only option.  Anyway, in front of me were two guys, I'd guess late 20's—mid 30's.  When it was their turn to order, one guy went to the counter and the other stood off to the side.  Not once, but twice, the guy ordering had to ask the other guy to come over to clarify his order.  Really?  Hey, I get it, my own order is always a little on the complicated side and I wouldn't trust anyone else to relate to the counter person.  But in that case, there was no reason why both guys didn't go up to the counter so the guy could tell the counter person (who is almost always a high school kid) exactly what he wanted.  They were just needlessly taking extra time. Didn't they know I had poker money burning a hole in my pocket?

Anyway, they finally were done and I placed my order and got a cup for my soda.  After I filled my cup I went to look for a table.  When  I entered the place there seemed to be a number of open tables but now as I needed one I couldn't initially spot one.  And then I saw a  partial explanation for why there were no available tables.

There are generally two types of tables at an In-N-Out—two-seaters and four-seaters (there are also some booths that seat four).  And I saw the two guys who had taken forever to order sitting at two tables.  Yeah.  One guy was a two-seater and the other guy was next to him at a four-seater.  There is a very narrow aisle between the two and the four seaters but they are clearly meant to accommodate two different parties.  But these two selfish clowns were taking up two tables and effectively six seats, just the two of them!  Now I don't blame them for not just both sitting at the two-seater, they are pretty small and it would be cramped for two adults (and these guys were both larger than the average person).  The two-seaters are better suited for a single person (like me) or a parent and a kid (a common site at these types of places).  So it would be have been ok if they had taken the four-seater even if though there were just the two of them.  But to take up six seats like that?  How totally inconsiderate.

I managed to find the last available table (a two-seater).  It was on the other side of the restaurant from the two clowns but I managed to look over there a few times.  I wanted to see if perhaps some other people I hadn't seen were going to join them, thereby justifying their taken so many seats.  But that never happened.  Perhaps when they got their food they would notice how crowded the place was and the guy in the two-seater would at least join his buddy in the four-seater.  But that didn't happen either.

When I was done, they were still there, taking up extra seats.  As soon as I left my table, someone who was waiting patiently grabbed it because there was no other place to sit. 

It really pisses me off to see people are so inconsiderate and so thoughtless.

While I was thinking of writing up this incident, I was reminded of my visit to the newest In-N-Out in Vegas.  This took place in summer.  They put one in the Linq (the promenade portion).  This is a long shopping area between the Linq and Flamingo the stretches from the Strip to the parking garages.  It's the first In-N-Out on the Strip.  One night in late June I went over there for dinner.

I thought the ones in L.A. were busy, but this was unreal.  It's bigger than most In-N-Outs I've seen, but still not big enough to handle the crowd.  There was a huge line to order, and you had to get in line just to pick up your food when they called your number.  And there was no place to sit, all the tables were filled, the seats outside were all filled.  Fortunately I was smart enough to order my food to go.  I had to sit on the ledge surrounding an outdoor fountain.  Which made it real easy for me to get ketchup on my pants trying to eat.

Honestly, unless you go there an off hour (assuming there is such a thing) the only way to eat there if you actually want to sit at a table so you can enjoy your food is to go with someone else, and have one person grab a table (when someone is done with theirs) while the other orders the food (which, as I've already explained, could lead to other problems).

The food is higher priced than In-N-Outs located anywhere but on the Strip but the extra surcharge you pay for its location is actually lower than most such places on the Strip.

Anyway, I was walking back up toward the Strip after eating and I was holding the familiar looking In-N-Out soda cup (familiar looking to any In-N-Out cultists, that is).  Suddenly I saw in front of me this cute, quite young girl come running towards me.  She didn't look old enough to be allowed to drink or gamble. And she was dressed modestly.  I started to look behind me, surely she wasn't coming over to me, she must have seen her friend behind me.  But there was no one there.

Suddenly she was right in front of me, about to speak.  No!  She couldn't possibly be a hooker, could she?  She's not dressed for it and she is way, way, way too young.  But when women approach me like that in Vegas there's never any other explanation.

Thankfully this time there was.  She said to me, "Is the In-N-Out back there?" and pointed behind me.  That was a relief.  And the way she was running towards me, she was obviously in desperate need of a cheeseburger and fries.  I told her yes, she just had to keep going in the direction she was already headed. And then I added, "Just look for the huge mob of people, you can't miss it."  She  thanked me and took off, walking with alacrity. 

Back to my first day in Vegas in September. My poker session that night was short.  The most interesting thing about it took place when a white-haired guy wearing a Purdue sweatshirt showed me a picture of Kobe Bryant and a young woman. He had overheard me talking about the Lakers with a dealer pal and asked if I was a Lakers fan. Duh.  He explained that the woman was his daughter.  It seems she works as an assistant for George R.R. Martin of Game of Thrones fame.  Apparently Kobe is a huge fan of the series, and wanted to meet Martin. They share a common agent so this was easily arranged.

However, Martin is a big football fan but doesn't follow basketball.  But he knew that his assistant (the daughter of this guy at my poker table) was.  Hey, you can't grow up in Indiana and not be a basketball fan.  So he made sure this guy's daughter was there at the meeting so someone would know all about Kobe.  Pretty cool.

As for the poker itself, pretty dull session.  I was down to $95 when I raised to $15 after some limpers with Ace-King off.   It was three-way and the flop was King-Queen-5.  One of the callers donked out a $25 bet.  I called and the other guy folded.  The turn was a blank and he bet $40.  With only $55 left I wasn't going anywhere.  Maybe I should have shoved the flop in response to his donk bet?  Anyway, in response to the $40 bet I shoved and of course he called.  Another blank on the river and he showed Jack-10 for a missed open-ender.   That propelled me from a losing session to a $45 win.  Sorry, that was by far the only interesting hand of the session and I know that I'm using the word "interesting" very loosely.

Speaking of loose, on my way to the parking garage, I was just about at the escalator to go down to it on my way out when this young lady suddenly appeared out of nowhere, started walking next to me and said, "You looked lost."

Hmmm, that was a new one to me, never heard a working girl use that one before.  I didn't get a really good look at her but she was rather plainly dressed but I had no doubt what she had in mind.  I said, "I'm not lost.  I'm just headed home."  I meant back to my room, but she took it mean literally home. "Oh, do you live here?"  Wanting to end the conversation, I said, "Yes."  I was actually testing something one of my MGM dealer pals had once told me.  He said that whenever he is approached by a hooker, he immediately tells them that he is a local and they lose all interest.  Sure enough, the girl didn't say anything, and just disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared. 

Maybe I should have invited her to In-N-Out for a burger?

The Rude Maniac

On this particular Sunday night—the Sunday night of my first weekend in town—I found myself at the Mirage for some 1/2. There, I encountered one of the most annoying players I've played with in awhile.  I have to give this bastard a name, so I'm going to call him "Appendix," because, let's face it, he needs to be taken out.

He was annoying in so many ways.  Yes he played like a maniac, but there's so much more.  When I first got to the table he was away from it, and there were open seats.  For the first hour or two the game was constantly short-handed, and his numerous visits to the sports book didn't help.  He was gone at least for the first 20 minutes I was at the table.  Then he came back, posted his missed blinds, played two hands, won them both and took off again.  This time he was gone for at least half an hour.

All the time he was gone, I was upset that he was gone so long because of the table already being short-handed.  But once he returned and stayed awhile and played some hands, I began to long for the time when he was absent.

He was super aggro, open raising to $20 or more an awful lot.  Sometimes he'd only open to $15, but never less.  Oh he did limp occasionally and even folded preflop once in a while.  But that wasn't the norm.  And of course, he'd three-bet a lot. 

He had a short stack when I got there, managed to have to rebuy and then started building it up.  You know how it is—some maniac starts raising with and playing garbage hands and gets on a heater and starts hitting everything in sight.  Well that was Appendix this night.  He also won some pots on pure aggression, although once we saw how often he was playing bad cards he got called down a lot.   But during this stretch, he always seemed to catch the card he'd need to win the pot on the river.  You know how it is, he'd shove with bottom pair playing something like 9-4, get called, be way behind to the caller and then catch his second pair on the river when he needed it.

He managed to get his stack to over $1,100 at one point.

He was sitting next to me, but at least he was on my right.  A bunch of players who were originally stuck on his right asked to move to the other side of the table whenever they could.

But he was making the game difficult.  Oh sure, having a guy like that, creating a lot of action can be profitable, especially if you catch a hand and he pays you off in a big pot.  But I was extremely card dead all night.  There was no making a move against this character.  You had to have a hand and then value bet the hell out of it (or, even easier, call all his big bets).  And it was very costly to play any speculative hands as long as he entered a pot.  And if you had a decent but not nutish hand, he always seemed to catch the second card he needed to win when called.

Actually the game wasn't that good anyway.  His big bets were inhibiting a lot of the action from the other players.

In addition to being a maniac, he was very rude too.  For one thing, he was one of those guys—and I seemed to constantly run into them this trip—who liked to sit sideways, taking up my space at the table, kind of locking me into my seat, getting his shoes on me or rubbing his leg up against me.  Why does that last thing never happen when a hot girl is sitting next to me? Why can't people keep their legs and feet under the table, in front of their own chair?  Or he'd put his feet on the bottom ring of my chair, which annoys me (I don't like people using my chair to rest any part of their body—again, there would be the "hot girl" exception to that).

Also, he was an obnoxious winner.  When he won a hand, either at showdown or when his bet wasn't called, he tended to shout "Ship it!" or, "I got you, I got you!" as if he was rubbing it in.  One time on the flop, he re-raised all-in against a guy who then went into the tank and finally folded.  Appendix had three-bet preflop on this hand.  The other guy must have folded a pretty good hand, so after he folded, Appendix showed his cards—3-2 offsuit, which hadn't connected with the board in any way whatsoever.  And so he said, "Well, I did have the best hand preflop."  The other guy was not amused.

I would have asked for a table change but I knew it wouldn't fly because our table was always short-handed.  Finally when the table did fill up and there was actually a wait list, I was about to go up and ask for a table change when the clown asked to borrow my phone charger.  I should have told him where to go, and in fact I did say to him, "Well, I'm about ready to leave the game," but he said he just wanted to try it because his didn't work.  So I lent him my charger and delayed my exit from the game.  It turned out my charger didn't work either—he said it didn't fit his phone (although I had already noticed he had the exact same phone as mine).  He finally borrowed one from the podium and then finally figured out that the USB port in front of his seat was not working.  So he asked if he could try my USB connector and he ended up using that one.  So I not only had to deal with his legs and feet getting in my way but his phone charger cord too.

Also, his buddy was at another table and they were talking and he was bragging to his buddy that he had all these chips....and he was threatening his buddy that he was gonna move to his table and take all his chips.  So I held out hope that maybe he'd move so I wouldn't have to.

But then, he got into a hand with a fairly new player at the table.  The new player bet, and Appendix shoved.  The new guy tanked for quite a while and finally called.  I think this was on the river.  The new player showed his hand—two pair.  And Appendix mucked without showing, claiming he had a pair of 6's and saying he was sure the guy would think he "had it" and would fold.  The new player only had around $150 and Appendix started the hand with over $1,100 so it wasn't a very big hit. It was the first sizable pot I'd seen him lose and he didn't seem upset.  Nevertheless, as soon as the hand was over, he went up to the front and grabbed a couple of racks, took them back to his seat, and started racking up.  He played no more hands.

One of the players who'd been there a long time said, "Oh, you can't take it, huh?"  Appendix said, "No, it's just that I gotta go to a Strip Club with my buddy."  As he was about to leave, he had to get the phone charger out of the USB port I was sitting behind.  Without any warning, he reached in front of my gut and pulled the charger out, and brushed his hand against my stomach.  He didn't hurt me, but it was such a final act of rudeness not to say excuse me first—I could have easily slid back so wouldn't have had to have touched me. Anyway, he was gone.  No one was really sorry to see him take his big stack and leave with it.  Instead, there was a audible sigh of relief from almost everyone at the table.  He was just that much of an asshole.

After he was gone, the dealer said, "He's in here every day, pissing people off.  He raises with 6-deuce, whatever and rubs it in when he wins." 

Earlier, I was amused when one of the players at the table answered his phone (while in the middle of a hand), saying "Joe's Bail Bonds."  I thought, now that is just so Vegas, isn't it?  And for 15 minutes he had a conversation with an associate about some new client who needed to post bail for a domestic violence change (the client was female, for what it's worth).  Joe was mostly concerned about whether or not his potential new client had enough collateral.

There was only one hand of note for me, it took place after Appendix took himself out.  The game had gotten pretty nitty at this point and I was down to about $100 or so.  In late position I limped in with pocket 9's.   Six of us saw a flop of Queen-5-3, two diamonds.  A guy led out for $5 and everyone called.  So, for $5, I decided to call too.  It was a long shot, but it was cheap to see one more card.

Good decision.  The turn card was a 9 of clubs, putting a second club out there.  The guy who bet the $5 checked, but another guy bet $20. I remembered watching this guy call the flop.  He was playing with his chips and I really thought he was about to raise.  Had he done that, I wouldn't have called.  But it seemed like at the last minute he decided to just call.

I wanted to raise, but I didn't have as much money to raise as much as I wanted to and I thought a shove there was unlikely to get a call.  So I bet $50, which left with me ~$50 behind.  He tanked forever and finally said, "OK," and called.

The river was a third diamond.  He checked.  I decided to play it safe and not bet.  I honestly didn't think he'd call me unless he had caught a flush.  So he turned over Queen-3 and was really surprised to see my set.  "I was gonna raise the flop but decided to slow play it, the game was so tight.  I shoulda bet."  Yes, he should have.  Glad he didn't.

I managed to break even for the session after four hours.  When I left, I was on my way to the parking garage when I noticed these boobs walking perpendicular to me.  Well, they were actually attached to a blonde woman.  She was nice looking, wearing a summery dress that was fairly conservative except for the fact that it was wide open on top and her jumbo after-market ta-ta's were practically falling out of it.  I didn't immediately suspect working girl because the dress didn't seem sexy enough (if you ignore the cleavage).  It was neither short nor tight—just extremely low-cut, the kind a lot of ladies visiting Vegas might wear.  Thus, at first glance, she just didn't seem like a hooker to me.

But she stopped in front of me and said "Hi."  Random blondes with big tits don't just say "hi" to me unless they want to sell me something.  I said "hi" back as I tried to keep walking but I guess she didn't hear me. "You can say 'hi.'"  So I said hi again, this time louder.  By now she was thinking she had my interest but after that, I moved fast and just kept walking.  I dunno why I was so anxious to get away from her.  I think maybe if I chatted with her bit I could have possible gotten a better hooker story than I did.  Oh well.

And that was that.

The Blog Post I Won't Be Writing

Well, I know I'm way late with a blog post for you. Truth is, I've been too busy (both with fun and work) to write something up.  Hopefully I'll have something for you soon.

But damn, I can't believe I missed the story of the year, one that is right up this blog's alley. Apparently, while I was here in Sin City, a couple of ladies of the evening got into fight right in the middle of the Strip, blocking traffic and everything.

Someone took some video of the fight and the story made international news.  You can read about it here and here.  Be sure to watch the videos there if you are interested in this sort of thing.

It is just disheartening to me that such a perfect incident for me to blog about happened while I was here in Vegas and I wasn't there to report on it for you.  So, as much as I'd love to be writing up a first hand report of that hooker battle, I can't. Reminds me of the time two girls flashed their boobies in a poker room while I was there and somehow didn't see it.  You can read about that here.

Judging from the video, the hooker fight took place in front of Monte Carlo, just up the Strip a little ways from MGM.  I coulda been there.

Damn.

Anyway, I'll try to get you a "real" blog post soon.  In the meantime, I found a pic of a girl who has nothing to do with the hookers fighting story, and it appears below.  Enjoy.