"She Doesn't Know Where Those Bills Have Been"

Sigh.

Seems like I keep getting distracted whenever want to write a blog post.  I was just about ready to start a new post for you, but it will be rather complex and time-consuming to write (might even be a two-parter), so I don't know how soon I'll be able to get that written and posted.  That means it will be too long between posts.  So I thought I'd do something I haven't done in awhile--a repost.

The story below was one of my earliest blog posts, published late 2011, when the blog was barely a month old.  As such, you will see that my game of choice back then was 2/4 limit hold'em, and I reference a casino I referred to as "BSC."  I trust you all can remember what that referred to. Yes, this story was written and took place before I started playing no limit poker!  

You will note that there's no actual poker content in this post, even though the story took place at a poker table.  This was actually the kind of story (i.e,, "provocative" or as I like to say, "salacious") I started the blog to tell, and my favorite type of post, and honestly, stories like this have been few and far between the past few years.  i miss them.

This particular story actually has one of the highest number of page views of any of my posts.  So why am I reposting it now?  Well, because I don't think most of those pageviews came from my regular readers.  You see, sometime after the original post ran, a certain website that had nothing to do with poker posted a link to it, and that got the post a whole lot of traffic.

What was the topic of the website that linked to it?  Well, it was an site devoted to interracial dating.  There was a forum there and one of the topics had to do with a white guy who was into watching his girlfriend (or wife) having sex with a black man.  Somehow this guy found my post through an web search and it got him real exited at the thought of taking his lady to the strip club I mentioned and watch her get serviced by a black male stripper.  He posted the link and asked if any of the members of the site knew if that was possibly at this club!

The odd thing about this is that, nowhere in my post did I ever say that "Freddy" was African-American.  As it happens he is.  But I didn't mention in the post, yet somehow this guy assumed he was--or perhaps he was just hoping he was.

The other thing I once noticed was that at least one (or perhaps more than one) person found the original post by searching for "do the black male nude dancers have big dicks at the Palomino Club?"  Again, how did Google search assume I was talking about a black stripper?  Of course, my post doesn't answer this pressing question.

By the way, I guess I should point out that since this was originally reported seven years ago, it's possible that the "facts" I presented have somewhat changed.  Who knows?

Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this trip back in time!

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About two weeks ago I got involved in one of the most unusual conversations I’ve ever had at poker table or in Vegas generally.  It started at my normal 2/4 game at BSC.  Sitting immediately to my right was Cindy, a forty-ish Midwest housewife and mother of two grown kids (that’s how I figured her to be forty-ish; she looked younger). 

Cindy and her husband came to Vegas for one of their regular visits to, among other things, play poker, both of them.  And Cindy didn’t come to play poker to sit quietly at the table, no sir.  She was one of the chattiest people I’ve ever encountered at a poker table.  So I learned about her kids and how she can drive around 45 minutes from her hometown and go to a poker room and that she also plays a lot of home games with friends.  She talked pretty much non-stop. It got close to being too much talk, but she was such a pleasant, nice lady it was ok.  Despite all these facts I learned about her, what she mostly talked about was poker....she commented on every hand, every hand she had, the play of every hand of the table.  She was real friendly and talked with everyone nearby, and basically spoke a book about poker during the evening.  

After an hour or so, a young, athletic-looking fellow came to the table that I vaguely recognized.  I saw the name “Freddy” as first on the list when he took his seat.  I started to remember Freddy….played with him a few times before at BSC.  My memory was that he is now a local, came to live in Vegas a while ago, perhaps a year back to train for his athletic career.  I’m pretty sure he I remember him saying he had gotten a job shining shoes at the Airport to make ends meet while he trained and waited for his athletic career to blossom.

After Freddy had been at the table for some time—and hadn’t been doing well, pokerwise—I started notice something unusual.  Twice I noticed the dealer asking a chip-runner for more chips and then counting out a boatload of singles to buy them with.  At one point I even commented, 'What, did someone break into their piggy bank?"  Not long later, Freddy ran out of chips once again (he was having as bad a night as I was) and this time I noticed he was buying $40 in chips in forty one dollar bills.  Yeah, he gave the dealer forty singles and was clearly the source of all the singles the dealers kept getting rid of.

This helped me remember Freddy.  I assumed he had all those one dollar bills from getting tips at the airport, shining shoes. Made sense to me.

Boy was I wrong.  The next time he bought more chips (like I said, he was having a tough nite of poker), the dealer—who clearly knew Freddy—said to him, "I guess you worked last night?"  I was still thinking shoe-shine so I didn't pay much attention but I guess he said yes. Cindy heard this, noticed the one dollar bills and said to Freddy, who she had been chatting with like all of us on this side of the table, "Oh, are you a stripper?"  I actually didn't hear her say this, I wasn't paying attention. Cindy told me this a few days later when we were laughing over this incident. She was just joking, or so she thought.  But Freddy looked kind of sheepish, kind of uncomfortable, and then reluctantly said, "Well.....as a matter of fact.......yes, I am."  Freddy started filling in a few details before I started tuning in.  I think I first noticed when I heard the words "Palomino Club."  So Cindy got some details I hadn't heard.  But all of a sudden I noticed Cindy was pumping Freddy (so-to-speak) for info on his nude dancing career.  Once I figured out what Freddy was talking about, I knew I was gonna have a story worth re-telling and got involved in the conversation.

I asked Freddy directly....."You're a nude dancer?"  Yes.  "At Palomino Club?" Yes. It's in North Las Vegas.  "I know, I've heard of it.  But I didn't know they had male dancers there." They do. They have males dancing Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.  The rest of the time is just girls, but on those nights it's both.

I was shocked to say the least.  Of course, it had been well over 20 years since the last time I was there. And I can assure you the only people taking off their clothes at that time were women.  So I said, "What is it, like a Chippendale's show?"  Freddy laughed, said, "not exactly" and then Cindy said, "Oh no, this is a lot more than Chippendales.  There's full male nudity." Now I have to assume that Cindy had already gotten this info from Freddy before I tuned in, although I suppose it is possible that Cindy had more firsthand knowledge of this show! But I doubt that.  I said, "full male nudity....you get totally nude?"  Freddy said yes, there's full frontal male nudity on these shows, and yes, he get's completely naked on stage.  He went to explain that the Palomino Club was the only place in town that had both alcohol and full frontal nudity.  I said I knew that but I thought that was only women, I didn't know they had guys dancing naked. He repeated that they have the shows on the weekend for women to enjoy the nude male dancers. 

Wow. I don't remember if it was Cindy or me who asked if he does lap dances.  But the answer is yes, he does.  They have private booths for that. Cindy knew what that could possibly lead to, so she asked him if any actual "sex" was ever involved. He explained that there are rules and that of course it is not allowed, but if "some of the dancers want to break the rules and they get away with it....."  He was totally third person discussing this but if I had to guess, he's schtuped his share of gals in the private booths.  He said they have to be careful because you can see the booths’ motion and figure out what is going on.

Cindy asked, "If you're totally naked, where do they put the tips?"  He laughed.  Most of the tips come when they are dancing before they get totally naked.  But.....when they dance they sweat and the dollar bills stick to their sweaty skin.  Also there are girls who are basically "tip runners" who pick up the tips for them.  She asked if the dancers are on as a group or individually.  He said some of the guys work in two man teams but he always is a solo act.

I asked if only women were allowed into the show or if guys were allowed to watch them too. Cindy agreed that it was an excellent question.  The answer is that guys are allowed only as part of a couple (and the other member of the couple has to be female, it can't be two guys). And then sometimes the couple will want a private or lap dance.  He says a lot of the guys who come in are turned on watching their girlfriend or wife interact with the nude male dancer in the booth.  And if the dancer wants to interact with the guy too....well that's up to him.  Freddy indicated that he wouldn't do that.

I had to ask....what is the age group of the women who come to see this show?  He said it is mostly women in their 30's, but it is really all ages, some gals in their twenties, middle-aged women and some are grandmothers or older......Of course he said there were a lot of bachelorette parties, divorce parties, things like that.  He also said something that really surprised me....a lot of the female strippers who work there come in to see the guys.  They are the best tippers!  Then I asked if these women customers were usually attractive or usually not so attractive.  He said there are all types but there are plenty of good looking women who enjoy the show.  

If Freddy seemed sheepish at first, by this time he was totally uninhibited talking about this. Cindy was saying that she felt there was nothing wrong with what Freddy was doing.  "You're young, you’re athletic, You're good looking.  Why not?"  Then she went to say, "You know, would a parent approve of this for their child?  I guess not but there are worse things you could be doing.  I mean, my daughter is gorgeous.  She could easily be a stripper. Would that be my first choice?  I guess not....but it wouldn't be so terrible.  It’s honest work."

Cindy went on to mention some Showtime reality show I'd never heard of, "Gigolos" which supposedly features real Las Vegas gigolos and has full frontal male nudity (Cindy was quite adamant to point that out....I guess she is a fan of the show).  She said it shows the guys and the “agents” who are really pimps who set up their "dates" and such.  She said most of the guys were not very good looking and that was surprising to her.  Now at that point I wanted to say something like, "Well if the show has full frontal nudity they must show you what the women are really paying for...."  but I held my tongue.  Freddy said that some guys do make "dates" with the gals (and the couples) and he was very clear to only talk in third person.....as to what they charge for in-call service, well they have to be careful because at Palomino Club it is a lot of locals.  If the guy accepts a low rate, word gets around (that they can be rented “cheap”) and it ruins their reputation.  The guys who work some of the clubs closer to the strip, which he has also worked in the past, have an easier time accepting a low rate from some tourist gal because the word won't get around.  He mentioned Treasures and Sapphire Club as places he's worked as a male nude dancer.   

This discussion of the show “Gigolos” led to a brief detour about “swingers.”  Cindy said, almost disappointedly, that you never really know anything about your neighbor’s sex lives.  She said, "I mean you never really know who's having sex.  I don't think anybody in my Midwest neighborhood is having sex, but who knows, maybe they are!"  By “having sex” she clearly meant outside of marriage (wife-swapping, hookers, gigolo's, illicit affairs).  I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying something like, "You mean, you're not having sex with your husband in back home?" but I thought better of it. I knew what she meant.

During this discussion a regular dealer was replaced by a fill-in I’d never seen before. He was mum during all this but at one point Cindy said to him, "Quite a conversation you are listening to, isn't it?"  He just smiled.  "How are you able to keep up on the game with all this unusual discussion going on?"  He said he has the ability to multi-task.

By the time the next dealer had come in, the topic had been pretty much exhausted. One of the regular female dealers took over and she had heard none of this discussion. But then Freddy need to buy in for more chips, which meant he counted out more single dollar bills.  As the attractive female dealer picked them up off the table to count them, I leaned over to Cindy and said, "She doesn't know where those dollar bills have been."  Cindy laughed and said she was thinking the exact same thing.

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.

"50% Off on a Lapdance—But You Only Get One Leg"

Sometimes, giving a person a taste of their own medicine can be delicious.  This is true of poker and of life (is there a difference?).  It’s not necessarily a revenge thing, perhaps just an amusing bit of irony one enjoys.

This goes back to last month when I was playing with Faith.  Faith is BSC degen regular, and a good friend of Ginger, the dealer who I’ve mentioned many, many times before.  She probably merits her own label.  I mentioned her a couple of times before giving her very own blog name, in the post here.

Faith is chatty, giddy, and loud, especially if Ginger is playing with her.  She acts drunk, but she doesn’t consume alcohol, as far as I can tell.  But she has this one really, really, really annoying habit.

She catches cards like nobody’s business.  Seriously, she is the Queen of the suckouts.  She makes very loose, very dubious calls and then some way, somehow, always seems to get there. 

Not only that, but ever since they started doing promotions, who do you think wins them all?  Ok, not all of them, but way, way, way more than her share of them.  If she’s in the room (and when she is in the room, you can hear her from any seat in the house), and her name isn’t called for a drawing, I’m shocked.  Everyone is.  But usually, we’re not shocked.

An absolute luckbox.

Honestly though, I can’t recall her sucking out on me much, surprisingly so.  But whenever I’m at the same table as her, I will invariably, time and time again, find myself shaking my head as I see her turn her hand over on the river and reveal some incredible garbage hand she played, where she only had a tiny piece of the flop but stayed in and called bets anyway, and then, miraculously, hit just the card she needed to take down the pot from someone who actually played well.  In fact, I wrote a blog post entitled “Bad Player Wins” which was inspired by her play, and you can find that here.

So I have no beef with Faith, but sometimes it can just drive you crazy to see her get lucky so many times and take down pots she has no business being in.  Of course, she’ll call with almost anything, preflop and post flop, so you can’t really out play her—you just have to find a way to out luck her.  It’s nearly impossible, most nights.

Early in the session, before Faith joined the table, I took a hit when my set of 4’s was taken down by a rivered straight.  That cost me about $65.

There was a funny moment when Ginger was dealing.  They had just announced the start of a 2/5 game and someone walking by asked Ginger where that game was.  She pointed to the table behind her where only the dealer was sitting; no players had shown up yet.  “Over there, where the empty dealer is.”  Then she corrected herself, “I mean, the empty table, not dealer.”

I totally cracked up, because I saw the dealer and calling this particular fellow the “empty dealer” was just perfect.  But no, I won’t give my BSC friends who read my blog any clue at all as to who it was.  Sorry.

I had Ace-5 of diamonds in the big blind.  Someone raised to $12 and when three others called, I figured I could call too.  The flop was 10-9-8, all diamonds.  I bet $20.  I guess I was semi-slow playing it. Only one caller, and it was not the preflop raiser.  I bet $35 when the board paired on the turn, and again he called.  The board double paired on the river and I checked, thinking the nut flush wasn’t looking so good any more.  But the guy checked behind me and showed pocket Queens!  My flush was indeed good despite two pair on the board.  Note that this guy merely called the initial $12 raise.  If he had three-bet the flop, I never would have been in the hand.  Of course, you could certainly argue that I shouldn’t have been in it for $12, either.

A few orbits later, I had Ace-5 in the big blind again, this time in spades.  A late position player made it $6, I called, as did Faith and one other.  The flop was Q-4-2, one spade.  Faith led out with a $10 bet and it folded to me.  Easy fold, right?

Nah, for only ten bucks, with a gut-shot, a back door flush draw, and an overcard, I figured I would call. The turn was the 2 of spades.  I checked and Faith bet $15, and with both the straight draw and the flush draw now, I called.  The river was the King of spades, giving me the nut flush.  Knowing that Faith could have a boat, I checked and she bet out $35.  I called and she showed Queen-something.  Awesome.  I had sucked out on the Queen of suckouts!  How sweet!

I showed my flush and Faith was aghast.  “You kept calling me.  How could you keep calling me?  You had nothing.”  Now you might think she was just spitting back the same lines she’d heard spoken to her a zillion times, but I honestly don’t think so. I truly believe she failed to see the irony of her comments.

I failed to point out that irony to her.  No point.  I just said, “Well, I did have a gut shot on the flop.”  She’s called bigger bets with less. She probably had within the past five minutes. I took it as some kind of cosmic justice for all the bad beats she’s inflicted on players with her own loose calls.

Speaking of suckouts, I had pocket 6’s in the big blind and called a raise to $12.  I called and it was heads up as all the limpers folded.  The flop was 9-7-6, two hearts.  I bet $30, about the size of the pot.  He made it $60, which left him $40 behind.  I raised to put him all in, and he called.

He showed the dreaded pocket Kings, and I showed my set of 6’s.  No King showed up. Just runner runner hearts.  Did I mention that one of his Kings was the heart?  Yeah, that hurt.

Now, there was a Norwegian fellow sitting between Faith and me.  And after being unusually quiet for a long time, Faith start acting more like her usual self, and then started getting really chatty with the Norwegian fellow. The Norwegian was a kind of an aggro and I think he’d lost some pots to Faith, on suckouts no doubt.  And as I’ve seen her do before when she’s in a good mood she started talking about strip clubs and going to one.

I’ve heard her kiddingly offer to take guys to strip clubs and buy them lap dances.  This time, she did something a little different.

She told the Norwegian, “You know, my second job is as a stripper.  My stage name is Stephanie.  When they call Stephanie on stage…that’s me.”

She told him she was soon to start her shift at the Sapphire Club and that she was gonna take him there.  “I’ll give you a 50% discount on a lap dance…..but you’ll only get one leg.”  A bit later she said, “$40 for a lap dance.”

The Norwegian laughed, but I don’t think he thought it was as funny as I did.  I should point out that Faith is married and presumably happily so, and in fact, her husband plays poker there too, but not as much as Faith does (because that would be impossible). I’ve played with him too, and he is not the luckbox she is.  Anyway, Faith is, of course, is mostly definitely not an exotic dancer.

Anyway, all this was going on as the drawing was being held.  I had a few tickets so I had to stay active in the game in case I was called (I wasn’t).  Thus I had to post my big blind even though I was going to be finished as soon as I either was or wasn’t called for the drawing.

I had King-2 of diamonds.  No raise, a few of us saw the flop, including the Norwegian.  I flopped the draw and called $10 from the Norwegian.  Hit the flush on the turn and bet $30, and he called.  I checked the river, which had paired the board, and he bet $50.  I called.  Obviously I was a bit concerned about the nut flush or a boat.  He had the flush too, but it was Queen high and I took the pot.

The dealer gave me a ticket for the flush, but since the next drawing was going to be at 4AM, I politely declined.  The dealer asked the Norwegian if he wanted a ticket.  At first he hesitated, not sure he’d be around at 4AM either. So I said, “Yeah, he’s headed to the strip club now.”

That got a laugh, and then he decided to go ahead and take the ticket.  So I said, “Yeah, he’s got plenty of  time to hit the strip club and be back here by 4AM.”

And with that, I called it a night.  You only get to suckout on the Queen of suckouts once per session, if you’re lucky.

Fireworks on the Fourth

I didn’t see any fireworks on July 4^th.  Not in a literal sense, anyway.  But the table I was playing at that night saw plenty.

Soon after I was seated, Brent pushed into to deal.  This was the first time I had seen him this visit.  That’s because it was his first day back from a long vacation.  And it turned out I was really happy to see him.  I hadn’t been running very well the past few nights.

Almost immediately after he sat down, Brent dealt me a couple of Aces in early position.  I made it $10 and got no less than five callers.  Yeah, five.  But I liked the flop.  It was Ace-Jack-4, two hearts.  The Ace of hearts was on the board, not in my hand. I bet $40 and had two callers.

The turn was a black 10.  I bet $90, which was more than half my remaining stack.  One of the two called the bet, a player best described as a Crazian.  I was worried about the draws, until the river was another 4.  I put the rest of my chips in front of me and the Crazian snap-called.  I showed my Aces full and he showed….Ace-5.  Offsuit.  He had no draw, just the naked Ace with a terrible kicker.  Thank you very much, sir.  I had more than twice my $200 buy-in in front of me, plus I got one of those tickets for the cash drawing.

As I was stacking my chips, I said to Brent, “Welcome back, I missed you.  I hadn’t won a hand while you were gone.”  He laughed and said, “Really, you were running ice cold for three weeks?”  I said, “Pretty much.” 

With Brent still dealing, I won a small pot with the Coach’s evil hand, Queen-10.  A 10 on the board was good enough for me to take it down with a bet on the turn.

Then I called a small raise with King-9 hearts in late position, called a small bet on the flop with a gut-shot, and hit it on the river (there was no bet on the turn).  Won another medium-ish pot. 

King-2 in the big blind, no raise.  King-high flop, I bet $7 and two players called.  I checked a blank turn and the Crazian who had doubled me up when I had the boat bet $20.  I didn’t necessarily believe he could beat a King.  I called.  Down to the two of us.  The river paired 7’s.  The high card on the board was a Queen.  So my pathetic kicker wasn’t going to play.  If he had a King, we’d chop it unless he had an Ace—or a Queen.  Neither one was likely, he would have raised preflop with AK or KQ.  So when he bet $40 after I checked, I thought it made sense to call.

And when I called, he just insta-mucked without showing, or making me show.  Nice.  The players to my left and right were making comments about this guy’s play—he had paid off other players with weird moves too.  When he left a little while later, I said to my neighbors, “Well, I guess I should leave now, my benefactor is gone.”

By the time Brent was finished with his down, I had well over $500 in front of me. I again complimented Brent on his dealing skills and told him that I really missed him.

It was close to $600 when good ol’ Mike came to deal.  Mike’s the guy who always cracks my Kings.  He didn’t this time.  Not Kings, that is.

First I lost some money with pocket 10’s.  I raised to $12, had three callers.  Queen high flop, I bet $35.  Hmm….should I have checked?  Overcards and three others in the hand?  I had one caller.  The turn was checked around and by the river there were two Queens on the board and a straight possible.  I folded to a big river bet.  The guy showed one card—a 10.  If he had a Jack to go with it he had the straight.  But I thought he had a Queen.  I’ll never know.  But when someone shows just one card like that, it’s never the important card and it usually means they have it, right?  Right?

The very next hand, Mike gave me pocket Jacks.  At least it’s not Kings, right? I raised to $10 in early position and had two callers. The flop was Jack high with two low cards.  The Jack and one of the rags were spades.  I bet $15, too little.  Usually I bet big there, but as I’ve mentioned in recent posts, I had started to slow play sets a little.  Both players called.

The turn was a blank and I bet $40.  The next guy shoved for his last $126.  The other guy folded.  Of course I called.  I assumed I had to dodge a spade.  In fact before the river was dealt, he showed Ace-7 of spades.  I showed my Jacks.  Mike decided to put a big dent in my stack by putting the very ugly King of Spades on the river.

Ugh.  That hurt.  I was still up, but so many lovely chips went missing from my stack.

And it wasn’t even the dreaded pocket Kings, which is the way Mike usually slaughters me.

Does anyone like his play there?  Shoving on the turn with his draw?  It makes a lot more sense to do that on the flop, right?  Wouldn’t have changed anything, but I think at that point, with just one card to come, it’s a bad play on his part—or am I wrong?

I was still up for the night, but that one hurt.

Mike left without doing any more damage to my stack. 

I had a suited Ace-rag in the small blind, and was hoping to play it for a buck to try to hit a flush and get another drawing ticket (and also, you know, win the pot).  But a guy raised to $10 in front of me so I had to fold.  It annoyed me.  I guess I was still a bit perturbed over the set of Jacks that lost.

The very next hand, on the button, I had Ace-6 of hearts.  After a few limpers, the same guy as last hand made it $15.  Damn him.  Easy fold right?  Not this time.  I was still pissed he’d bet me off the suited Ace last time.  And this time I had position.  I wasn’t about to let him bet me off another hand!  I called.  It was a steam-call.  Also, I figured a few limpers might call if I did and it would be a nice pot if I got lucky.  One other player did call.

The flop was Ace-Ace-Jack.  He bet $25 and I called, the other guy folded.  The turn was a blank and we both checked.  The river was another blank.  This time he put out $65. 

My first inclination was to fold, surely I had kicker problems.  But I had seen this guy play long enough to figure there was a decent chance he was bluffing.  I couldn’t find a fold there.

Good call.  He showed 7-deuce!  But it was soooooted (but he didn’t have a flush draw). He raised to $15 with 7-deuce. Now by the river there was actually a 7 on the board, I don’t remember whether it was the turn or the river.  But I was happy that my read was right and that I took in a decent pot.  Now I was wandering what he had raised with on the hand before.  It was probably better than 7-deuce.  Like, 8-3, maybe?

Limped in with King-Jack off.  No raise. On a Jack high flow (two hearts), I called a $5 bet from a guy who just moved into this game from the 3/6 limit game.  We both checked on the turn, a third heart.  There was a fourth heart on the river and he bet $15.  I didn’t have a heart, but I was kind of thinking that this guy didn’t know what he was doing and might not have noticed the hearts.  For $15 I decided to call, if only to get information. 

I flipped over his cards and said, “I have nothing.”  True, he didn’t have a pair.  He was playing two absolute rags.  But one of those rags was a heart.  The dealer noticed, even if he didn’t.  I was right, he didn’t know what he was doing.  Unfortunately, that didn’t help me.

I will point out that a few days earlier, I lost a hand in similar fashion when a guy turned over his hand saying he had nothing and didn’t notice that he had a straight.

I called a $7 raise with 8-7 suited and then the 5-Minute Asshole raised to $37.  I folded but one guy called and the flop was 8-7-x.  The 5-Minute Asshole bet and the other guy folded, so I have no idea what he had, but I assume my two pair would have been good.

Why do I call him the 5-Minute Asshole?  Well, it was weird.  This guy was sitting there all night, a young guy, wearing his baseball cap the proper way, not saying too much.  He was a bit of an aggro.  Suddenly he won a nice pot from the older gentleman on his left.  I didn’t make a note of the hand, unfortunately.  And the 5MA says to the older gentlemen, “You keep playing like that and I’ll get all your chips. You’re a donkey.”

That was the first thing he’d said or done that was out of line in the two hours or so I’d been there.

The older guy was not too pleased. He didn’t say anything to the 5MA but he said to the dealer, “Dealer, he called me a donkey, please call the floor.”  I don’t think the dealer heard him, but a floor person walked right by just then and the gentleman got her attention.  He repeated what the 5MA said.       

The floor turned to 5MA and was about to pull him away from the table when the older guy stood up and said, “You know what, I’m leaving.”  The floor asked if he wanted a table change and he said no, he was through playing.

Then the floorperson pulled 5MA aside and before she could say a word, 5MA went into this long rant.  He didn’t deny calling him a donkey but said it was “nothing” and the guy was just using it as an excuse, that he wanted to leave the game anyway.  The floor said that didn’t matter, you can’t call other players derogatory names.

The guy apparently wasn’t listening, and he continued to harp on his firm belief that the guy was just using that as excuse for leaving.  And the floor kept telling him that was irrelevant.  But she wasn’t getting through to him, and he became more and more agitated defended his stupid position.  I really thought the guy was going to get kicked out of the room.

But then, just as I thought he was at the end of his rope, he shut up.  He promised to behave and took his seat and remained quiet.  Seriously, he didn’t cause a lick of trouble the rest of the evening.  And he had been fine up until that very hand.  Hence, the 5-Minute Asshole.

Now, I suppose it’s possible there could have been some verbal interaction between him and the older guy all along that I couldn’t hear.  I can’t rule that out.  But it was weird.

And I’ll point out what all of you surely know—if you think a guy at the table is a donkey, the very last thing you want to do is piss him off and get him to leave, right?  Make him comfortable.  Make him happy.  “I would have done the same thing, sir, I just got lucky.”  Right?

I did have a hand against 5MA after this incident.  Someone straddled and I called the straddle with pocket 3’s.  There were two more 3’s on the flop, don’t recall the other card.  Of course I slow-played it and no one bet the flop or the turn (there were four of us who saw the flop.  Finally on the river, 5MA bet $6. Everyone else folded and I raised to $12. I hated raising so little but I figured it would be hard enough to get a call for even the min raise.  And in fact, 5MA took a long time to call that lousy six bucks.  But finally he did.  He mucked when he saw my quads.  I’m sure if I had made it $20 he wouldn’t have called.

That got me another ticket, and the dealer said, “You should get two tickets for a hand like that.”  I agreed, but that wasn’t the rules.  Note, the previous month, they had the high hand bonuses that I described in this post, but by this time, they had been discontinued.  All I got was the ticket, no high hand bonus.

A few hands later I was drawing to a straight flush on the river.  Unfortunately, my notes on this hand were all screwed up and I don’t have the details.  But I needed the 8 of diamonds.  I got the 8 of hearts instead, filling in my gutshot, and that won a small pot.  But I commented to the dealer, after saying I needed the 8 of diamonds instead of the 8 of hearts, “I guess I couldn’t expect the same dealer to give me quads and a straight flush on the same down.”

Although back a long time ago, when I was playing 4/8 at the Venetian, I saw a lady get a straight flush and quads on back-to-back hands.  Now that’s running good!

The last hand I won was with Jack-4 offsuit in the big blind, no raise.  The flop had a 4 and two clubs; my Jack was a club. I called $7.  The turn was another club so I called $20 with a pair and a flush draw.  I hit the flush on the river but didn’t bet it, worried that my flush was not good enough.  I was mostly interested in getting another drawing ticket, the drawing was just a few minutes away. The other guy didn’t have a club.

I didn’t get called for the drawing.  I had a bit over $200 profit and decided to call it a night.  On my way out, I passed noticed Mike dealing at another table. With all the sarcasm I could muster, I yelled over to him, “Nice river, Mike!”  He snickered and said, “At least you didn’t have to rebuy.”  True enough.  You can’t have a session where every hand goes your way, can you?

Can you?

The Devil Girl of Fremont Street

As I’m still in Vegas having fun and getting lotsa material, this post will be short and sweet.  Just an excuse really to post a few pics I took the other day when I was downtown playing in the Binion’s 2PM deepstack.

This tournament didn’t go well for me and I was done in a few hours.  I had gotten no hands and so on the button I raised with A-10 offsuit.  I caught an Ace on the flop that had two spades, two more than I had.  I bet and got a call (it was heads up).  I bet the turn even though that put a third spade on the board.  Why?  I was first to act and was sure if I checked he’d bet and put me in a bind.  I was hoping he’d fold to the third spade.  Nope, he called.  By the river there was also a possible straight out there but he wouldn’t have called my preflop raise with Jack-9, would he?

I bet again and he min-raised and I thought there was too much in the pot to fold top pair so I called and sure enough he had raised with his straight even though there were three spades out there.

That crippled me but I hung on, had some ups and downs, shoved a few times, with no calls.  Then I got some chips shoving with Ace-Queen and getting called by the big blind, a big stack with Ace-2.  He missed and I had some chips to play with, I thought.

In the big blind I had pocket 10’s.  It folded to the button, an older gentleman who had a stack about the same size as mine.  He made a normal raise.  The small blind shoved for about 1/4 of my stack.  Thinking he might do that with a lot of hands, I thought it was a reasonable risk to play him heads up.  I shoved, figuring the button had been trying to take advantage of his position and wouldn’t call.  But no, he did.

Small blind had Ace-Queen and the button had Ace-King.  The flop was all low cards.  The turn was another low card.  The river was a damn King.  If it had been a Queen, I would have won more chips than I lost.  If it had been a blank, I would have had a ton of chips.  And if my grandmother would have had balls, she would have been grandfather.

Actually, that saying make no sense. If I my grandmother would have had balls, I doubt my grandfather would have married her.  And if he had, it’s hard to conceive of how they could have conceived a child that would have been my parent.

But I digress.

Before departing downtown, I soaked in a little of the atmosphere on Fremont St. and saw the young lady in the pictures below.  Actually, I was pissed about it, because I had seen the same woman the weekend before and she was more naked the previous week.  She still had the devil horns, but the week before she was carrying a scepter and the body paint covering her breasts covered less territory and was more in line with the devil theme.  Frankly, I don’t understand the devil face with the patriotic outfit.  There was no American flags the week before, it was an all devil theme. And please note....this was the weekend before July 4th weekend, so the American flag theme didn't really make sense.  

On the bottom, the week before, she had a very tiny thong that revealed her entire backside.  This time she was only exposing part of her butt, as you can see.  Also, the tail the week before raised up instead of hanging down, covering not one bit of her tush.

Despite the more conservative presentation, I decided to take a few pics of her this time, as I figured my readers might be interested in the kinds of things that go on down at Fremont Street.  I realized this too late the week before and regretting not taking the pics then, which would have been more revealing.

So here’s the Devil Girl of Fremont.