"You Did That to Me?.....But I Bought You Dinner!"

This is part 2 of my recent session with Prudence.  if you missed part 1, it is here.

Later in the evening—we were joined by two more folks who were familiar with my blog—well one for sure.  I think this was after Warren left.  You see, visiting from England this weekend were Paul and Dom.  Paul has posted numerous comments on my blog and many others you probably read under the name “Arniejokin” and you can follow him on Twitter here.  Dom is Paul’s buddy—not really sure if he reads my blog but since I had met the two of them the night before I’m sure Paul filled Dom in on it if that was necessary.  The previous night I had hoped to play with them at The Linq, but when I get a chance to write the post about that evening’s antics, you will learn why that never happened and instead we were at separate tables that night. 

Before I had arrived at the MGM, I had seen a tweet from Paul that the two of them were playing at my “home base” that afternoon.  In fact, when I got to MGM and was waiting for Prudence and Aaron to arrive, I found them at a table.  They were nearly done with their session and weren’t sure what they were going to do after their dinner break.  I suggested they return to MGM because not only was a Slut Parade night, but there was UFC fight there and that always makes for wild, juicy poker games after the fight.  I apparently convinced them, because hours later, I got a tweet from Paul asking if I could put them on the list as call-ins.  I did, and not long after that they showed up and got into a game at a different table.

When I saw Paul earlier, I told him that I was waiting for some friends to have dinner with before playing poker.  But I never identified my friends in any way.

But by the time they were sitting in a different game, clear on the other side of the room, Prudence had had quite a few drinks.  And she was not only inappropriate, as I’ve indicated, she was also quite loud.  So loud that her buddy Stan, at the podium, actually texted her to tone it down a little (or maybe a lot, actually). In addition to what I’ve described, she also managed to utter the f-bomb numerous times.  And she made a reference to “swallowing” which I’m pretty sure wasn’t about the alcohol in front of her (but I am unclear on the context).   Apparently she could sometimes be heard on the other side of the room, where Paul and Dom were playing.  And soon after they arrived, I received a tweet from Paul that said, “is that someone from an earlier blog at your table?  Prudence?”

Ha ha.  He “recognized” Prudence from across the room! So even tho they were at another table where they said they had perfect seats for the Slut Parade, they asked to be moved to our table for the jocularity.

When Paul first got to the table, the very first hand he played (and thus the very first hand I’d ever played with him), he raised.  I think it was $8.  I think I might have been the big blind.  So when it came to me, I said, “Oh, typical aggro Euro, I see.”  I don’t think he realized I was kidding.  He said, “What?  Well, it was a friendly raise.”  I just laughed.

At one point, Aaron got a phone call.  He stepped away to take it, but returned to play his next hand, still on the phone.  And it turned out he wanted to play that next hand, so he said something like, “hang on, I’m in a hand.”  At which point, Prudence, who had folded, grabbed the phone out of his hand and started talking to the person on the other end.  Prudence had absolutely no idea who she was talking to, but that didn’t stop her from carrying on a conversation with him or her.

I either couldn’t hear or can’t remember most of what I overheard her telling this person on the phone—except for one thing.  We all did hear her say, “Yes, his cock is adequate.”  She said this at least three or four times, while Aaron was playing the hand.  Now by this time, the dealer was a woman I had never seen before—but actually, you’ve already met her—she was the dealer I called “Janet” in the post here.  She was brand new to Prudence and had no idea what to make of her, but she was rather nonchalant in reacting to her antics—with an occasional smile or giggle. 

When Aaron was through with the hand, Prudence returned the phone to him and announced to the entire table, “I have no idea who that was.  It might have been his mother.”

That got everyone laughing and Janet said, “Oh….that would be awkward.”  Later, Prudence added, “If it was his mother, I should have thanked her for squeezing him out her vagina.”

Later she put her index and middle fingers up to her lips, spread them to form a “V” and asked the British boys if they knew what that was.  They claimed ignorance.  “Wow, I guess you guys never get laid.”  She explained that it was the symbol for “vagina.”

There was another woman at the table, who didn’t really react one way or the other to Prudence’s antics.  But this gal did figure into a couple of hands that cost me chips.  Yes, yes, there was actually some poker played this night.

Early on I called $6 from the button with Ace-9 off.  Six of us saw a flop of Ace-Queen-x. I called $15 and it was three-way. There was no betting on a blank turn.  I called $40 on a Queen river.  The guy had absolutely nothing and was up nearly $100.  Sadly, he lost the rest of his chips soon after and then left.

From the cutoff, I called $11 with Jack-8 of diamonds, it was 5-way.  The flop was Jack-10-x and no one bet.  With a 9 on the turn, the aforementioned lady went all in for $46.  It folded to me and I thought it was worth calling, since that would close the action, the pot was pretty big and I now had an open-ender.  But I bricked and it didn’t matter, she had King-Queen and had a bigger straight than I was drawing to on the turn. 

A bit later I had pocket Aces, both were black.  I raised to $10 and it was 5-way.  There was a King and two mediumish cards on the flop, also two spades.  I bet $40 and the lady called.  The turn was a red 5 and we both checked.  We checked a red 4 on the river.  I showed my Aces and she showed….5-4 of spades for runner-runner two pair!  WTF?  She called my preflop raise with 5-4 (but it was sooooooted) and then my big flop bet with a baby flush draw.  And then went runner-runner on the two pair.  I guess I should have bet the turn but I doubt that she would have folded, based on how she played that.  Ugh.

I called a $10 raise from Prudence with Ace-4 of diamonds.  Three or four of us saw the flop, which had a 4 on it and one diamond.  She bet $30 and I made a loose call, thinking she might be c-betting and I did actually have a pair, plus the back door flush draw.  The turn was another diamond and there was no betting.  She checked the river, which completed my nut flush.  I bet something, she folded and I showed my hand to get a drawing ticket. 

A few hands later I had Ace-4 offsuit in the small blind and I called.  But I hadn’t noticed that it was a straddle, which at MGM is $5.  Rather than make an issue of it, I just took back my two bucks and put out a red chip.  Good decision.  The flop had both an Ace and a 4 on it. I checked, going for the check-raise, but it checked behind me.  I turned a boat with another 4, and bet 15.  There was one call but no call on my river bet.

With pocket Jacks, I raised to $8.  It was three of us seeing the flop, including Aaron.  Terrible flop, Queen-Queen-X.  I c-bet $15 and Aaron called.  The board got even worse—an Ace on the turn.  I checked and Aaron bet $40.  I tanked and then folded.  So as the dealer pushed him the pot, Aaron showed his hand.  A Queen?  Nope.  An Ace?  No. He showed King-10 offsuit.  Seriously?  A total bluff?  OK, he had a gutshot, so not a total bluff (but what he didn’t know is, if he had hit his gutshot with a Jack, I would have had a boat).  Ugh.

I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances.  Remind him that I had paid for his meal.  “What?  You did that to me…..and I bought you dinner!”

But actually, it was Prudence who was more upset than I was.  “How could you do that to Rob?  You’re gonna pay for that!  He can’t give you a worse name than Jace got (see here)—nobody will ever be named that again.  But watch out!”

Heh heh…until they left, I kept teasing him about the terrible name I would come up with for him.  Actually, “Osama” was going through my mind.  In fact, when they left, he said something to me about, “Please don’t give me an awful name.”  Well ok, I did take pity on him, because he seems like a really nice guy (except as a poker player) and well…..I did get back at him a bit, as you’ll see.

Now long time readers might notice a pattern….my friends can always bluff me off hands.  I mean, before Aaron it happened here and here.  Well, more proof that I should never play poker with people who read my blog.  But I’m sure that the only times I’ve ever been bluffed successfully, it’s been by friends of mine.  I’m sure no one I don’t know well has ever been able to bluff me.  Yeah, I’m sure of that.

A bit after this hand, I was finally able to move my seat, from the middle of the table to immediately on Aaron’s left.  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Prudence raised to $6, Aaron called and I called with King-10 of hearts.  It was four-way.  The flop had two hearts on it, but also two 4’s.  I called $30 from Prudence, as did Aaron. There was no betting on a blank turn. The river was the 3 of hearts.  Prudence checked, as did Aaron, and I bet the rest of my chips….but I was down below $100 by the start of this hand and had only like $30 or so left on the river.  Prudence called and Aaron folded.  Prudence had 6-9 of hearts (affectionately known as “Big Lick”).  No surprise she plays that.  Aaron said he threw away Ace-4 offsuit, and was really pissed to lose to two flushes. He said he was hoping for the Ace of hearts so he could all our money!  Sweet.  I thought I wanted the Ace of hearts to give me the nut flush, but now I knew better.  That gave me enough chips to play with without re-buying.

It turns out Aaron has a real job and had to get up early, so they had to call it a night before I did.

A rather odd woman took over one of their seats.  I moved over to seat 1 and this lady originally sat on my immediate left.  There was a guy sitting between Paul and Dom on the other side that had a short stack and kept raising fairly large in an apparent attempt to give away the rest of his stack as soon as possible.  When he wasn’t raising someone else was, I think either Paul or Dom.  I heard the lady on my left muttering to herself about the frequency and the size of the raises.  She mostly folded to the raises, so I kind of assumed she was a nit.

When the guy between Paul and Dom finally busted, she moved to that seat, between Paul and Dom.  She was one of the blinds when I had Ace-Queen off and raised to $8. There was a call and then the action was on this woman.  First she asked, “Who raised?”  The dealer pointed to me.  And then, knowing it was my raise, she suddenly decided there was one bit of information she desperately needed before deciding what to do.  “What’s his name?” she shouted from across the table.  Well, that was a new one on me!  What the hell difference does my name make?  How is that relevant to her decision? Now…..it might just be that she asked that because the dealer, who knows me of course, might have said, “Rob raised” in addition to pointing to me when she asked who raised.  And she apparently didn’t understand “Rob.”  But how that would affect her decision is beyond me.  Of course, if she was really that interested in my name, she could have asked me while she was sitting next to me.

Anyway, the dealer said my name a few times and she kept mishearing it, “Ralph? Your name is Ralph? What’s your name?”  I was laughing at this. “No, Rob….my name is Rob.”  And so finally she called.  I wonder if she would have folded if my name was Jack?

The flop was very low, and I put out a $15 c-bet.  The other player folded but the lady called.  The turn was an Ace, she checked, I bet $30 and she called again. The river paired the board, a second deuce.  This time, she led out for $30.  Damn.  Had she gotten lucky with the deuce? Trips?  A boat?  I tanked for a bit.  Then I realized that there was no way I could fold top pair there for so little.  Did I want to raise?  I kind of assumed that she would only call if she could beat top pair, so I figured I would play it safe and just call.  As I reached for chips, she said, “Don’t do it….don’t do it.”  Hmm…I try not to be distracted by talk like that.  Are they telling me what they want me to do or what they don’t want me to do?  Undeterred, I called.

She said, “I have nothing and flipped over two low cards, I think a 5 and a 3 (suited, I guess).  So I suppose on the turn she picked up a gutshot, otherwise, she didn’t really have anything. She bet way too little for her bluff to work…besides, I only get bluffed by my friends and I didn’t know this lady from Eve. Her play was beyond strange but I was happy to take her chips.

It was getting close to midnight, I had a few drawing tickets.  But I was not called.  I picked up soon after, booking a very small profit (slightly under $100).  But I had a shitload of entertainment for the evening.  I said goodbye to the boys from the U.K. and only wished I’d been sitting closer to them so we could have chatted.  Seemed like really good guys, despite the language barrier. 

I have reason to believe that I will be playing more live poker with Prudence and Aaron on future trips.

"What's Your Bra Size?"

Last night, as I was writing this post, it dawned on me that the next day (now, today, Sunday) would be the 4^th anniversary of the start of this blog.  It was officially launched on September 20, 2011.  Now over three-quarters of a million page views later, I won’t be celebrating the anniversary in any special way here, but it is appropriate that my post on this anniversary will be all about my pal, Prudence, since so much of the credit for this blog taking off is due to the posts I did about her in the early days, as I was trying to build an audience.

It’s been almost a full year since I did a post starring Prudence. You can find that last post with here.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but Prudence is single again. And as I was preparing for my most recent visit to Vegas, she made it clear she wanted me to meet her new gentleman caller.  So on the first Saturday I was in Vegas this month, we arranged to have dinner together, followed by a poker session at MGM.

Did I not mention that Prudence’s new fella plays poker?  He does indeed, though I’m pretty sure that was just a coincidence, not something that she was looking for in a beau. Prudence had pretty much “retired” from live poker, preferring to play online, something totally legit in Nevada.

We will have to assign a blog name for Prudence’s boyfriend, won’t we?  Now, as you will read, in the course of this night, I promised to give him a really horrible name, but I’m going to cut him a break he probably doesn’t deserve and refer to him as “Aaron.”  

As I later learned, somewhere along the line Prudence told Aaron about her poker playing buddy Rob, i.e, me.  And then she had a difficult decision to make.  At what point in their relationship was it safe to reveal to Aaron that her buddy Rob had a poker blog?  And that there was a character with multiple appearances on said blog by the name of “Prudence” who was in fact Aaron’s new girlfriend?  If you recall some of the past posts involving Prudence, you could see that this might be a dilemma for the average woman.  But, as you know, Prudence is not the average woman.

Eventually, Prudence told him about my blog, told him she was Prudence and thus Aaron started reading my old Prudence blog posts. He found them highly entertaining. So much so that he wanted to play some live poker with her and see the “real” Prudence in action.  He likes to play live, but had been only playing on WSOP.com with Prudence to this point.

So, before I got to town, I was given the heads up that Aaron was about to take Prudence to a nice dinner at a major Strip casino, after which they would play live poker together.  And I was told that, during the course of the evening, Prudence might indulge in an adult beverage or two, which could quite possibly bring out her more outrageous side.

I did get a report from that night, from Prudence.  She was relating to me things she had forgotten that Aaron reported to her the next day.  I only wish Aaron had written a guest blog post for me the next day—it would have been memorable.

But I did learn that Prudence was warned by the floor for some of her comments (not sure if it was just the sound level of what she was saying, or the actual content).  At one point, she got a nasty look from one of the female dealers when Prudence referred to the dealer as “busty.”  Apparently her breasts were practically resting on the table, covering her, um, rack.  Oh, the irony.

But the best moment was when a tourist was racking up for the night.  Apparently he was a total luckbox and had taken some big pots from almost everyone at the table.  His last victim, I guess, was Aaron.  He made a hero call and took a lot of Aaron’s chips.  And so, Prudence said to him (loudly, I assume), “You may think you’re the big winner but you’re not the one getting a killer blowjob later.  And you can’t put a price on that.”

I’m pretty sure there are some ladies working the casino late into the night who do, in fact, put a price on exactly that, but I digress.

So on this particular Saturday evening, I got to meet Aaron who turned out to be a real nice guy (and a good poker player).  The three of us enjoyed a meal at the sports bar next to the MGM poker room.  As is custom when I eat there with friends, I dipped into a relatively small portion of my voluminous poker comps and covered the meal at no actual cost to me.  And Prudence did indeed enjoy an adult beverage, as did Aaron.  She was just getting started.

We had some nice conversation over dinner and then it was time to get to the poker portion of the evening.  Since this was the first time she’d played at MGM since the post I linked to at the outset, Prudence had some old friends to say hello to that she hadn’t seen in quite some time (some players, but mostly dealers).  I was the last of the three of us to join the table we all settled into, and who was dealing there but none other than my pal Mike.  As a favor to him, I will not link to any previous posts featuring Mike, you’ll just have to remember that he’s the guy who always deals me pocket Kings and cracks them (ok, so he’s not alone there) and also likes to give me a hard time about how long my blog posts are (again, he’s not alone).

Prudence had already caught up on what was new with Mike when I finally got to the table—I was the last of the three of us to be seated.  As I took my seat, I nodded to another player I recognized at the table, someone who had made it into the blog in the past, and he said to me, “Hi Rob, it’s been a long time since I’ve played with you.”  I said, “yeah, Ace-Queen!”  We talked about the hand that made it into the blog and then he asked, “You still doing the blog?  I haven’t it checked it in awhile, guess I should check it again.”  It was Warren, and I will give you a link to the last time I mentioned him (here).  He had been playing in a different room for awhile, and since returning to MGM several months ago, I’d seen him a lot but we just never ended up at the same table until now.

Before I could answer Warren’s question, Mike kindly answered for me, saying something to the effect, “Oh yeah, he’s still doing it, with those long posts that put you to sleep. I’m ‘Mike’ on the blog, by the way.”  I of course gave my usual retort, which is, “Mike just can’t handle it because I use words with more than one syllable.”

“No, it’s not that….they just run on and on, run on paragraphs, with flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks.”  You see, he’s referring all the links I put in to past posts.  But Mike: except in the case of multi-part posts, it isn’t really necessary to click on all the links to follow my stories.  Those links are bonus material.  Consider them “value-added.”  Prudence chimed in, “You’re too young, you want instant gratification.  Rob’s into details.”

Anyway, I suddenly realized that with the dealer, Warren, Prudence and Aaron, at least half the table was familiar with my blog.  That’s pretty unusual unless it’s one of those games with my fellow bloggers.

Now, one of the reasons Prudence wanted to do this on a Saturday night was so that Aaron could see the Slut Parade for himself.  Unfortunately, the table we all ended up at was in the very back of the room.  And the seat I was stuck in for most of the evening had my back to the walkway. This was not lost on Mike.  “Why are you in that seat, it’s the worst seat in the house?”

I just shrugged and said that’s where they sent me, but Prudence piped in with, “Oh yeah, the titty-brigade!  We gotta see the titties!”

Mike asked me if I saw the girl twerking a little while ago.  I had not.  Prudence said, “Well, butts are not his thing anyway, he wants tits.”  Mike said, “Well, she had those too.”

The next dealer was an Asian woman, an old friend of Prudence’s (who is also Asian, in case you’ve forgotten).  They caught up right away.  Amazingly, despite the fact that this dealer has dealt to me for years, I have never given her a blog name before.  So we will now be calling her “Joyce.”  I’m not sure how it came up, but almost immediately Prudence started discussing Joyce’s chest.  Specifically, she asked, “What’s your bra size?”  I’m sure there was context for that which I missed, though perhaps Prudence now asks all her female friends that.  It was then that I pointed out that she had told me that she’d gotten into trouble commenting on a lady dealer’s breasts the last time she played live.  But Prudence was undeterred.  Since she was sitting right next to the dealer, she even grabbed and snapped Joyce’s bra strap through the side of her shirt.

And sure enough, Joyce revealed the size of her bra.  Now, since there are other dealers in the room who (unlike Mike) do read this blog, and since it would too easy for Joyce’s colleagues to figure out who she is, I will not reveal the identified bra size.  I am much too much of a gentleman to do that.  But in keeping with this blog’s tradition, I will give this wonderful woman a pseudo-bra-size.  You know, in addition to the pseudonym I just gave her.  So, we will say that her blog bra size was revealed to be 46-DD.  Again, that is not the size she revealed.

Prudence nodded when she heard the actual size and said, “Well, that’s pretty impressive for an Asian.”

Warren heard some, but not all of this discussion and asked what we were talking about it, and Joyce said, “Oh nothing, nothing.”  But Prudence said, softly I think so that Warren could not hear it, “Just bra sizes.”

They moved on to status updates on their romantic lives.  I didn’t catch the beginning of this, but I did hear Joyce say, “Well, I’m very fussy.”  To which Prudence replied, “Yeah….unlike me, where any penis will do.”  Warren heard this and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that said at a poker table before.”  Obviously, this was his first time playing with Prudence.

There was a hand where Warren raised preflop and Prudence was one of the callers.  Warren c-bet the flop and Prudence min-raised.  Everyone folded including Warren, and for some reason, Prudence decided to show her hand.  She had flopped a set.  Warren thanked her for showing and then asked….”Wow, why did you let me off the hook, why did you let me know you were so strong so early?” I guess he felt she should have slow played it.  Prudence said, “I’m nice…..I have a vagina.”  Warren laughed—everyone did—and Prudence went on, “I have a va-jay-jay…..it was the estrogen…..respect the pussy.”

As Joyce’s down was coming to an end, Prudence asked her who was pushing her.  She thought about it for awhile and then came up with the name of a male dealer who also happens to be Asian (and is someone who Prudence knows well). But it turned out the next dealer, was not the dealer that had been named but some other male dealer—who was also Asian.  This guy had only recently started dealing in the room and I wasn’t familiar with him either.  But as Prudence laughed about that, she started quizzing the new dealer and learned that this new dealer was actually the brother of the dealer she had been told was pushing in.  This totally amused Prudence, that Joyce had identified the wrong Asian brother as her push.  And thus she said, “See, even to other Asians, we all look alike.”

Another time, out of the blue, she looked at me and said, “I want to go on a platonic date with you next week.”  To which I replied, “All my dates end up being platonic.”  That got a few laughs and perhaps some sympathy.  I was just joking, I couldn’t let Prudence be the only one at the table getting laughs.

And that’s where I’m gonna leave part 1.  Part 2 will feature the British Invasion, and I’ll actually get to some poker. Also it will be a bit longer than part 1, because after all, this post is definitely too short.  But don’t worry, more outrageousness from Prudence will be revealed as well.  Stay tuned.  And now, you can read part 2 here.

The Vulva Tea of Mercy is Not Strained

This post will, among other things, explain why the post here was called "The Big Teaze" and not "The Big Tease." 

Who out there is familiar with “Boba Tea”? Let me see a show of hands.  OK, probably most of you.  As usual, I was late to the party.

It seems my pal Abe almost always arrives to the BSC poker room with to-go cup of boba tea.  When I asked once what he was drinking, he told me “boba tea.” So, I asked him what the hell that was and he answered.  I still wasn’t sure.  I figured out it was some kind of tea drink that has been imported here from Asia .  So it appeared to tie into Abe’s preference in the fairer sex.  As I revealed in the post here, Abe has the Yellow Fever. 

Abe would stop in Chinatown on his way in and pick up a boba tea.  And for awhile, he had been trying to get me to join him in his favorite Asian Tea House for a boba.  I resisted because I don’t really like tea. I will drink hot tea only if absolutely necessary when I have a cold and a sore throat.  I will drink Iced Tea only when no other more suitable beverage is available.  In either case, I will put enough sweetener in it to pretty much obliterate the taste of the tea.

But Abe discovered a tea house that he felt might have something that would override my objection to tea: Girls serving said tea in their underwear.

Ok, technically, Café Teaze advertises that their servers (all of whom are Asian) wear lingerie.

Hmm.

It was pretty obvious that a place like this indeed cried out for closer inspection by yours truly.

That almost happened the first night I was back in Vegas, in late August.  I was playing poker with Prudence and Abe joined us.  As the evening wore down, Abe was telling us more about his favorite Boba Tea place.  We agreed we would all hit it together before I left town. In fact, as we finished up with the poker, Abe suggested we all go there right then, but I declined.  I was just too tired from lack of sleep, the long drive, unpacking, a rough poker session, etc. Abe and Prudence went without me, and Prudence sent me the following picture she took of their server, with this note: “You are really missing out.”

Ok, I was sold.  A week or so later, the three of us all met at Café Teaze, right when they opened, at 6PM.  Prudence and I got there first.  A really nice looking Vietnamese gal came over to us to give us menus.  She was wearing a bra and panties.  Or so I thought.  It was definitely not a bikini, this was definitely underwear, and pretty skimpy underwear at that. She went over the menu, and asked if we’d been there before.  Prudence said yes, but I of course said no, and told her that I had never had boba tea before.  My actual plan was to see if they had some non-tea drink, like diet coke, or even water.  But it was pretty hard to say no to a hot gal in her underwear. There was something on the menu called “chocolate milk boba tea.”  I decided that it sounded like something I could probably handle.  After all, when in Rome…..

Now, aside from tea, and the nice scenery, this place is offering, well, an “experience,” for lack of a better word.  So when the girl came over, she told us her name was Crystal and sat down at our table (I believe we were the first customers of the day) and chatted with us, very friendly.  When she got up to place our order, I realized she wasn’t really wearing panties.  She was wearing a thong.  It revealed approximately 100% of her buttocks.  It was a damn pleasant sight.  Prudence totally cracked up at my reaction to seeing her bare backside.  Too bad she didn’t take a picture of me, I’m sure my expression was pretty good.

I commented to Prudence, when I realized the gal had planted her totally bare butt on the chair next to her, “That’s unsanitary, isn’t it?”  She agreed, and laughed.

Now there was another girl behind the “bar” who was apparently the bartender or the barista or whatever you’d call her.  She was also only wearing a bra and because of the bar, I couldn’t see what she had on the bottom.  I complained to Prudence, “Isn’t she gonna come out….I want more than one girl.”  She laughed.  It wasn’t till we were nearly ready to go that I saw her come out from behind the bar.  She was wearing a slightly less revealing thong than Crystal.  It did cover a little bit of her ass.  I thought I saw a third girl when we first got in, but I never saw her from the neck down and I never saw her again.  It’s possible I was hallucinating hot Asian gals.

Note:  Due to the, um, hiring practices of the management of this tea house, the view from the waist down was better than from the waist to the neck.

When Abe joined us, I was surprised that they didn’t know his order cold. My first words to him were, “Gee, I can’t imagine why you like it here so much.”  I asked him if he actually lived there.  I mean, why would he ever leave?

He ordered something from Crystal.  As I said, the girls are more than just servers, so every time she came to take our order or check on us, she actually sat down and joined us for quite a long time.  Prudence, ever the student of life, asked her if she had run into a lot of creepy guys working there.

She said yes, and then told us a long story about a guy who didn’t sound very creepy at all, but who didn’t leave her a tip.  Subtle.

Another time, she came over, sat down, and said, “You want to hear something crazy?  Friday night is ‘Pasty night.’  And we’re opening at 4.”  Abe had already informed me of a previous “pasty night.”  It’s just what it sounds like.  Instead of bras, the girls wear nothing but pasties on top.

“Damn,” I said.  I won’t be here.  I guess I’ll just have to win enough money tonite to be able to afford to stay through the week.”  I didn’t.

Abe and Prudence were comparing Crystal to the woman who served them a week earlier, the blonde above.  I commented that I don’t really like blonde hair on Asian women.  “It’s too unnatural looking,” I said.  Prudence responded….”Oh, you so traditional.  You’re probably into bush porn.”  I just laughed.

We had a good time, catching up on our recent activities (when we weren’t being interrupted by our mostly naked server).  I found this picture of Crystal on their Facebook page.

And here’s a shot that Prudence took of a different waitress on a different night she went there.

The only problem:  Not a fan of the boba tea.  My drink would have been fine if it didn’t have that bitter tea taste.  And the boba didn’t add anything to it, as far as I was concerned.

We only went there for the drinks.  They have a limited food menu so we decided to eat at BSC before playing some poker.

On the way over there, I called my friend LM.  She and her husband Woody are big boosters of my blog, and I wanted to tell her that I had been served boba tea by a nearly naked Vietnamese girl.  It would be easier to leave her a voice message than to text her when I got to the casino.  So hours later, I got texts from LM and Woody.  It seems that when LM related my message to Woody about being served boba tea by a girl in her underwear, he somehow heard “boba” as “vulva.”  Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part.  But when I saw his text about my having “vulva tea,” I knew that, forevermore, I would be referring to boba tea as “vulva tea.”  Perhaps you can all do that and we can start an actual trend.  It could become bigger than “the dreaded pocket Kings.”

The poker wasn’t much to talk about.  At first, I was sent to a separate table on my own while Prudence and Abe were at the same table.  I managed to win about $100 there while waiting for my table change to come through.  Nothing dramatic, won a small pot flopping a flush, won a few pots with c-bets, won a pot with top pair.  And didn’t take any big hits in the process.

By the time I got called to the other table, the Slut Parade was in full gear, and this table was right in front.  Prudence and Abe, on either side of the dealer, had the two best seats in the house to enjoy the parade.  I had a less preferred seat on Prudence’s immediate left.  This may have been Prudence’s first real exposure to the Slut Parade.  This was the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend, and I have to say, that particular weekend turned out to be an especially good weekend for SP viewing.  Especially if one happens to enjoy looking at liberally exposed bosoms.  Let’s see, do we know anyone like that?

There were also plenty of ladies representing Abe’s preferred “genre.”  For some reason, Abe started asking Prudence for her opinion of the ladies he was noticing. As in, “What about the girl in the red dress?”  We both found it odd that Abe needed a woman’s opinion.  Finally, Prudence said to him, “Come on, what do you need my opinion for?  Your penis knows what it likes.” 

As vividly as I have tried to describe the ladies going to the club, they still seem to shock first-time viewers.  As a worldly woman, you would think Prudence would be unshockable, but no, she found herself oft-times amazed at the clothes—or lack thereof—the club goers were wearing. And keep in mind, this was after we’d just had a girl in a bra and a thong serve us vulva tea.  At one point, she said, “Why do they even bother wearing any clothes at all?” I was no doubt distracted by whoever happened to have elicited that comment from her.  But when I recovered, I said to her, “If they allowed it, what percentage of the girls would just show up stark naked?”  She said, “More than you think, you’d be surprised.”  Damn decency laws.

I also made a comment about the cost of those “dresses” the girls were wearing.  “They can’t cost very much, right?  I mean, there’s so little material.”  She said, “No, those are like $700 dresses.”  For about three square inches of material?  Somebody’s making boatloads of money.

Once I got to that table, between the parade and the conversation with Prudence and Abe, I wasn’t concentrating too much on the poker.  I managed to keep all the money I came to the table with, and I considered that a win.

I guess I should explain the title of this post.  You already know where the “vulva” came from (so-to-speak).  The actual title is a play off of a “feghoot.”  A feghoot is basically a shaggy dog story with a bad pun as its punch line (see here for a longer explanation).  Back in the day, I heard and/or read a ton of these.  I’ve mercifully forgotten most of them, but a few of the punch lines have stuck in my mind all these years.  The punch line I remember the most, for some reason, is, “The Koala Tea of Mercy is Not Strained.”  I’ve ruined the joke for you (as if that was even possible) but you can find a version of it here.  So pretty much as soon as I realized I would be doing a post about tea, the title was sealed in my mind. It was originally going to be “boba tea” in the title, but it was easy to replace “boba” with “vulva.”

And if you think about, and have a dirty mind, you will see that “vulva” tea not being strained works out really, really well.  Especially if, ahem, you’re into bush porn.

I’m going to leave you with some pics Café Teaze’s FB page, I hope it’s ok that I use them.  Enjoy.

"I Hate it When People Call Me With Nothing!"

As I get older, I seem to become less and less able to put up with fools.  Fools, idiots, jerks, assholes, douchebags.  You know.  Annoying people.

And the more I play poker, the more I run into them, sadly.

A lot of jerks play poker.

Here’s the story of one such jerk.

I don’t know this guy’s name, but he mentioned (frequently) he was from Colorado.  He didn’t say what city.  I don’t want to blaspheme the entire state of Colorado by calling him “Colorado.”  So I just did a search of cities in Colorado and the city of “Two Buttes” jumped out at me.  You can look it up, there really is a city called “Two Buttes” in Colorado.  Somehow, it seems appropriate—the kid I am about to describe was definitely an ass, and maybe two.  So we’ll call him 2Butt for short.

This session happened to be the first—and so far only—time I’ve played poker with my pal Prudence all year.  She and Tom came by BSC while in the vicinity to play. Lately, Prudence has played almost exclusively online, finding that more enjoyable than playing live.  And after playing a few minutes with 2Butt, I was starting to see why.

Prudence and I were at the same table and we weren’t there for more than a minute when 2Butt started making an impression on us.  The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing a backwards baseball cap.  That’s frequently a sign of douchebaggery.  Recall the post here where I first revealed my displeasure at this particular “fashion” fad.  In a stroke of great timing, just the other day I actually received a brand new comment, from Mr. Anonymous, to that post in regards to my displeasure with that odd fad.  Since no one reads comments on two year old blog posts, and because it was so good, I’ll go ahead and reprint it for you:

“Some people like to wear their hats backwards, get off your high horse, you're not the fashion police. I mean, I don't personally wear my hat backwards because I'm not an idiot, but I wouldn't judge anyone who does.”

Thanks, Mr. Anonymous, great line.

Anyway, 2Butt was a young punk with a baseball cap on backwards and he couldn’t shut up. I guess he was late 20’s, early 30’s chronologically. Maturity-wise, he was about 7-1/2.  He talked nonstop and everything he said was stupid.  Sometimes it was about poker, or specifically about the hand in play, and other times it was about everything else.  He had an opinion on everything.  Only he didn’t really express it as an opinion.  It was more like a fact.  Actually, it was more like the word of God.

There was a real nice lady from Boston next to him, and I’m sure his stupid comments drove her away.  At one point, she said something totally innocuous, and he said, “Well, you’re from Boston so I’ll allow that.”  Mighty big of him.

Once she raised, and he said, “You didn’t mean to do that. You shouldn’t do that.  That was a mistake.”  Well, he won the hand and he said, “Now you know not to do that again.”  He wasn’t using a nasty tone, but he wasn’t using a joking tone, either.

The lady had revealed she was a pediatrician.  At one point she said, “I’m sure I’m the only doctor at this table.”  2Butt disputed that.  “No, no, you don’t want to make that bet.”

He repeated this several times. You might say he obsessed over it, but he kind of obsessed over everything. Ok, he must be a doctor himself right (a rather scary thought)?  He was asked and he hemmed and hawed and finally admitted he wasn’t a doctor. “I’m only in I.T.  You’re better than me, I admit it.”  And then he conceded that she probably was the only doctor at the table. 

He played most every hand.  He didn’t raise much pre, but he limped in or called most raises before the flop.  And he was having a good night; he seemed to be catching cards with alarming frequency. 

He was so immediately obnoxious that if I hadn’t been playing with Prudence, I probably would have asked for a table change before the big scene he caused took place.  But the room was really busy this night and I didn’t want to move to a different game from Prudence and then have her move (assuming she wanted to move), we would lose too much time and her time was limited.  We were not sitting next to each other at this point, or I would have surely whispered to, “Now I know why you prefer playing online.”  Before I had a chance to say it to her, she texted me basically the same message, that this guy is the worst and she can avoid jerks like him by sitting in front of her computer playing in her pajamas.

I got into a couple of hands with 2Butt.  When I raised with my pocket Aces, he was the only caller. I bet out on a low flop and he folded.

Then came a hand where I lost some money to him.  Another guy had raised preflop, $8-$10, something like that.  I called with Ace-Queen diamonds. So did 2Butt.  The flop was Queen high, two clubs.  2Butt, first to act, led out for $25.  The preflop raiser called.  So did I.  I considered raising, but I’m still a bit cautious about investing too much money in one pair hands.

The turn was the third club and this time we all checked.  I’m thinking in hindsight it would have been good for me to bet there and represent the flush. Oh well.

The river was another club.  2Butt stuck out another $25.  The other guy folded.  I tanked. Based on his play, he could easily have bet that without a club.  I thought there was a reasonable chance my Queens were good.  And I was getting good odds, there was now over $125 in the pot and it only cost me $25 to call.  I decided it was worth it, so I put out five redbirds.

He had Queen/Jack.  Only the Jack was a club (good thing, since the Queen of clubs was on the board).  That was enough to take the pot.  I really wasn’t bothered too much by it, I thought that, considering the player, my action made sense.  I mucked without showing, of course

Then he got into a hand with the short stack on his left.  I don’t remember the full details, but on the flop, 2Butt bet out and the short stack shoved. He had a lot less than $100 and I didn’t note the size of the pot.  But I don’t think there was much in it until the guy shoved.

It folded back to 2Butt who gave a speech.  There were two hearts on the board and 2Butt started speculating that Shorty was on the flush draw.  He liked to talk about hands when there was action pending anyway.  Earlier, he had to be warned by the dealer for speculating about his opponent’s hand when there was another player behind to act. Also, he had to be warned about showing his cards (he showed one in that case).

“You got a flush draw there?  I think you’re working on a flush draw.” Finally after he ran out of ways to speculate that the guy had a flush draw, he called.  They didn’t show.  The board ran out and no more hearts appeared.  2Butt showed top pair.  Shorty showed his cards instead of mucking—he did indeed have the flush draw, two fairly low hearts. With that, he got up and took off, never to return.

You would think 2Butt would be pretty happy about that.  You know, winning a nice pot.  Isn’t that we all play poker?

But no, instead, 2Butt got hysterical.  He went ballistic. “Oh man, I hate that!  I hate when people call me with nothing.  God I hate that!”  He was shouting loud enough for at least half the poker room to have heard him.  He didn’t let up.  He kept bitching and pissing and moaning, all the while stacking his chips.  That he had just won.  From the guy who had called him with nothing.

Apparently, the guy’s actions had so upset him that he totally forgot how the action had played out.  The guy hadn’t “called with nothing.”  He raised with a draw.  It’s called a “semi-bluff,” 2Butt.  You should look it up.  It’s in every poker book.  How has anyone who plays NL not seen that move a thousand times?

Of course, the short stack actually had some fold equity there, and indeed, it sure sounded like 2Butt came pretty close to folding.

None of us could believe 2Butt’s reaction.  He was actually visibly angered after winning the hand. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

He kept on ranting and raving and saying, “God I hate that.”  You would think that someone had tipped over his grandmother’s wheelchair or something.

Unfortunately, the dealer at this time was not the best to handle this situation and said absolutely nothing during this whole time.  And the room was real busy, and there didn’t happen to be a floorperson anywhere in the vicinity.  The guy just kept going on and on as the next hand was dealt.

At this point, I seriously considered getting up.  Not so much to ask for a table change but to find the shift boss and complain.  Life is too short for me to have to sit at the table with a jerk like this.

But I didn’t. I had two minds, and the other one was saying, “You can’t leave.  The blog post practically writes itself.”  Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Fodder for this here blog won out.  Although I also thought I might get a story if someone in authority finally heard him and warned him.  Of if someone else complained.

He was the big blind the next hand.  The lady from Boston had left a bit earlier, no doubt tired of hearing this guy’s non-stop bullshit.  Her seat was taken by an older regular, a tight player who always comes to the table with $100 in chips.  He still had his starting stack for this hand.

The reg knew Prudence from her days as a reg herself and had said hi.  Other than that, he hadn’t said a word to anyone at the table, including 2Butt.  And so it folded to the reg in the small blind and he turned to 2Butt and asked if he wanted to chop.

He raised his voice in response. “No no no.  I’m not gonna chop.  Not after what just happened. I’m not chopping.”

WTF?  What did the previous hand have to do with anything?  2Butt had no beef with the reg.  They hadn’t said a word to each other or played a hand together.  It was a total non-sequitur. He’s mad at the player who just left (and who gave him all his money) and thus he won’t chop with a new player?  Huh?

Like I said, the guy was a total jerk.  And by jerk I mean a word I don’t use on this blog.

The reg shrugged his shoulders, said ok, and put out three red chips on top of his $1 small blind.

2Butt raised back.  I don’t recall the amount.  But I was thinking that the reg might have been raising there to spite the jerk for not chopping and might not have a great hand.

The reg thought for a bit and shoved.  2Butt snap-called.  They didn’t show, but there were two 10’s on the board and 2Butt flipped over King-10.  Now it was the reg’s turn to be mad. He kind of threw his cards down, sort of flashing them first.  I thought I saw Ace-King but Prudence said it was Ace-Jack.  Still, a big hand heads up.

“You had to put two 10’s on the board, not just one?  You had to put out two!”  That was the reg yelling at the dealer.

 Meanwhile, 2Butt was yelling at the reg.  “I hate it when people call me with nothing.  I was way ahead of you.”  Clearly he hadn’t seen the cards the reg flashed.  Or he didn’t care.  Maybe he thinks King-10 is ahead of Ace-Jack?  The reg turned to me and said, “Can you believe this?  He was ahead of me?”  He didn’t talk to 2Butt, he just got quiet, and while seething, bought in for another $100.

Finally after a minute or two, 2Butt came to his senses—a little bit anyway.  “You know, it wasn’t you I was mad at. It was that other guy.”  You know, the guy who gave him all his money!  I would be mad at a guy who gives me all his money too.  Who wouldn’t be?

I was now extremely close to getting up and finding the shift manager to complain.  I figured I already enough for a blog post, and it could get nastier from here.  Who knows, the next person to get into with him could have been me.  And really, who wants to be around such a total, unadulterated asshole?

But while I was considering it, the guy’s girlfriend came over.  They talked about going to dinner, and finally decided to.  Fortunately, the guy did not leave his chips on the table.  He picked up to leave us in peace.  He didn’t return…at least to any table I saw.

All I could think of was, “How the f*** does a prick like that have a girlfriend?”  She wasn’t bad looking, either.  She wasn’t a super model, but she was alright.  Truly, there is no justice in this world.

The reg was actually disappointed that 2Butt left. He had seen the way he had played and figured it was only a matter of time before he gave it all back.  I conceded his point.  And he said to me, “I didn’t understand why you paid him off (on the 4-card flush hand), but now I do.  He could have had anything. I might have paid him off too.”

Around this time, Prudence moved next to me, and we were able to exchange some gossip.  But she no longer drinks and drives plays poker, so there was no Prudency behavior to report. Just her complaining about a guy who called her shove on a scary board with only a pair of 7’s.

I’m not sure if she was gone or not when this hand happened. There was a lady at the table who had impressed me with how little she knew about how to play. Unfortunately, I didn’t write down complete notes of the hand.  I recall that I was the big blind and had 9-4 offsuit.  I saw the flop for free and no one bet the flop, which had two hearts on it. My 4 was a heart.  I caught a 9 on the turn and I bet small and the lady called me. The 9 was the third heart, by the way.

I checked the river, which was the Queen of hearts, giving me a little bitty flush.  The lady now bet $25 and I tanked.  There were two reasons I considered calling there.  One was that they had the cash drawing promo, and if I called and showed my flush, even if I lost the pot, I would get a drawing ticket.

The other reason was I honestly thought that lady was such a bad player that she might be oblivious to the four hearts on the board and might be betting with something less than a flush. I really didn’t value the drawing ticket to be worth $25, but I honestly thought that my flush could be good.  Not because she was bluffing but because she had a hand and didn’t even notice the flush.  Seriously.

So I called.  She had caught a queen on the river, that’s it.  She had a pair of Queens, no heart.  I have no idea why she called on the turn.  But yes, she was that bad.

So I got a ticket and everyone said “good call,” and then someone asked, “Would you have made that call if it wasn’t for the ticket?”  The answer is yes, because of the player, but what I said was, “I’ll never tell.”  Except of course in this very blog post.

I limped/called $7 in late position with 8-7 off.  The flop was 9-6-6. No one bet the flop.  The turn was a 5, giving me the straight, and I bet $20.  The reg was the only caller.  Note, he was not the preflop raiser.  The river was another 6.  Ugh.  Suddenly my straight didn’t seem so good.  I checked and the reg bet $40. Knowing his game, I thought he must have had some kind of pair and therefore a boat.  Quad 6’s wasn’t out of the question.  I hated to do it, but I folded.  And I was a bit perturbed about it.  I was even more upset when he didn’t show his hand after I folded. Remember, they have these drawings. If he had a boat, he would have wanted to show his hand to get a ticket for it.  He certainly knows that.  So if he didn’t show his hand, that must mean he didn’t have the boat.  Which meant my straight was good! 

That bothered me a bit and I might have made it a bit obvious to anyone paying attention—like the reg—that it was getting to me. So much for a poker face.  But not long after that, the reg picked up his chips and left the game.  As he was getting up, he leaned into me and whispered, “pocket 10’s.” I knew he was referring to the hand I just described.  So he did have the boat.  And he didn’t show it for the ticket because he hadn’t planned to stick around for the next drawing, which was a couple of hours away at midnight.  I felt better.  I know he could have been lying, but I doubt it.  Why would he lie? I suppose you could make a case that since he knows he’ll play against me again, lying about his bluff this time will make it easier for him to bluff me next time.  But I really don’t think that’s what he was up to.

That brings me to the best hand of the night for me.  I had been up and down and was hovering around $100 at this point, down from my $200 buy-in. Couldn’t get any traction.  I had won a hand with pocket Kings and then lost to those same Kings to a lady who didn’t three-bet me with them (I raised with Ace-Queen). I thought the Queen on the board was good but she called me down and showed the well-disguised cowboys

Earlier, that lady had won a huge three-way pot when she rivered a Royal Flush.  She was pretty conservative from then on, not risking a lot of chips.

Anyway, I was on the button with 9-8 diamonds and someone had made it $10 and two players called in front of me, so I decided to come in.  Then the big blind bumped it to $27.  He was a new player and I kind of got the vibe that he was pretty flaky and I didn’t assume the three-bet meant what it usually means when a player three-bets.  So when two of the players in front of me called the $27, I thought about it and decided to call.  With my stack, I knew I wasn’t risking a lot if it went bad.  And with the pot over $100 before the flop, I had a chance for a big score if I got lucky.  I suppose an argument could be made for shoving there, but I just called and closed the action.

The flop was 10-7-7, one diamond.  Not a bad flop for me.  The preflop raiser checked, the next player checked, and the last player before me to act bet $100.  From his play, I thought he could easily have just a 10 there.  Maybe even a pocket pair less than a 10 (since he hadn’t raised pre, I thought an overpair very unlikely). I couldn’t put him on a boat because he wouldn’t have bet, or he would have bet a lot less. 

As it turned out, I had the perfect size stack ($65-$70) to play along.  I called with the open-ender (and back-door straight flush draw).  But hey, if 2Butt was there, he would have bitched that I “called with nothing.”  The other two players folded.  We didn’t show.  The turn was a diamond that made a straight flush impossible, but a flush very possible. The river was not a diamond, just a Jack that gave me the nut straight.  The other player turned over Queen-10.  My read was dead on.

I said, “Nice river card,” to the dealer as I stacked my chips.  Suddenly I was in the black for the night.  I won a few more small pots, lost a few small pots, and left up $50.  Since I was down $100 just a little bit earlier, I was pretty satisfied with that. I was also happy that I never saw 2Butt again.