Fan Mail

With a few days left on my last Vegas trip, on a Tuesday morning, I received the following email:

Long time reader, first time writer...  I'm a big fan of the blog, and thought I'd see if you were still in Las Vegas.  I'm flying out to Vegas now, and if you don't mind chatting with a fan while you play, it would be cool to meet you.

Mind?  What part of “Rob is an ego-maniac” isn’t clear?  I’d love to meet one of my previous unknown fans.  It was a blast to find out the guy next to me was a “secret” fan of blog as I explained on this page.  So, to find out some reader I didn’t even know of before opening the email wanted to possibly go out of his way to meet me, and play poker with me, was fantastic to me.

So I emailed him back and said I was still in town and told him I would indeed be playing that night and when he landed, he responded.  Turns out that BSC was very convenient for him so he said he would stop by to play some 1/2 No Limit and to meet me. 

I will call my fan “Doug” because that’s the name he posted a comment under in this thread here. Since we had exchanged phone numbers, Doug texted me when he was sitting at a table and I gave him my table # and seat # and eventually he came by to say hello.  He was unhappy with his table and I was (foolishly as it turned out), happy with mine so he asked for a table change.

So he eventually joined my table, we chatted at bit as he played.  He was actually in town for business, but had some time in the evenings to play poker.  Soon after he came to my game, Jack shows up to deal.  Again on this page I explained how Jack had heard about my blog but hadn’t read it….until the night before this story took place.  Yes, Jack finally found my blog and it turned he was an instant fan of it!  I suppose since so much of it takes place in the room he works and some of the stuff I write about involves him, that shouldn’t be too big a surprise. But he spent a good portion of this down talking about the blog and of course I was eating it up.  Only Doug at the table knew what he was talking about, but he joined in a bit on the discussion too.  So I was having so much fun hearing the two of them talk about my stuff that I wasn’t paying attention to the fact that I was slowly—or not so slowly—bleeding chips. 

Jack of course wears a name tag with his real name and the actual casino he works at on it. So it was funny when he said was that he wanted to get another name tag that says “Jack” and with the name of the casino as “BSC.”  Jack also said that he had already started thinking who would play him in the movie version of my blog.  Of course I thought the idea of a movie version of my blog was quite amusing.  He decided on George Clooney to play him.  Now, Jack doesn’t look anything like George Clooney so it was pretty obvious why he picked him.  I tried to think of the most un-George Clooney like actor I could think of to throw out him, so I suggested that Mickey Rourke would be right for the part!  Heh Heh.  (Jack doesn’t look anything like him, either)

Meanwhile, Doug was distracted from spending more time talking about me by a rather attractive girl that was sitting next to him.  She mentioned that she was from San Diego and that an airline was offering $10 flights from San Diego to Las Vegas at certain times.  That’s why she and her friend were there. She said you couldn’t bring any luggage at all for that price which is why she had to wear the same clothes every night!  I guess therefore I’m glad that it was Doug, not me, that was sitting next to her!  I wasn’t close enough to smell her.  Disappointingly, the one top she took did not show any cleavage, although she appeared to have a good figure. 

Anyway, while Jack was distracting me talking about the blog, I noticed Doug and the San Diego girl were starting to talk politics!  No kidding.  And although I hadn’t blogged about it yet, thoughts of the annoying guy talking politics non-stop at the table the other night was fresh in my mind (see here.) Now fortunately, they were not talking loudly like the clown the other had been, and I was easily able to tune it out (especially since I was distracted by Jack talking about the blog) so I have no idea which side of the political aisle either one of them fall. But since I had mentally already had that post about politics and poker written, I was concerned that when Doug read it, he’d think I might be referring to him!  Fortunately, he did not.

I guess maybe I was also so distracted I was giving insufficient attention to the poker.  The only hand I can report on from this session was when I limped in with 4/6 suited and I was already short-stacked (probably not the best time to limp in with that!).  I flopped middle pair and an open ended straight draw, so when someone bet (I don’t recall how much), my only two moves were a fold or a shove.  I decided to shove so if I missed, I would just re-load.  And that’s what happened.  My middle pair wasn’t good enough and I missed my straight, time to buy more chips.

Doug wasn’t doing too well and had an early meeting, so he left, and I didn’t stay that much longer.  But he said he might be back.  And in fact, two days later, on what was the last day in Vegas for both of us, he returned to BSC, and we exchanged texts.  But he liked the table he was at and I was enjoying playing next to Prudence, so neither one of us moved to the other’s table.  And as it happened, he never came by to say hello.  That was disappointing, because I had told Prudence that there was a fan of my blog in the room, and that he came all away from the mid-west just to play with me!  She was impressed.  Of course, I immediately told her that I was kidding about coming just to see me, he was here on business.  But if he had come over, I was going to tell Prudence he was the “fan” I was talking about and then it would have been interesting to see if Prudence would “out” herself as Prudence to him.  But now I’ll never know.

Doug emailed a few days later and told me that there was a hooker stationed very near the poker room, soliciting guys as they entered or exited the room, but I did not see her.  Sounds like Doug needs a blog of his own!

Anyway, Doug, it was great to meet you, maybe next time we’ll have more time to chat.  Thanks for your support!

Naked Came The Poker Player

OK, I admit, the title of the post is somewhat misleading.  There are no naked poker players in this post.  And  that’s probably a good thing, generally speaking.  It’s just that I’ve had that title running through my brain for some time now, and I really like it. And since I’m not very likely to ever have a post that really fits that title, why not use now, in deference to Stripper Week. (Links to the other blogs that participated in Stripper Week are at the end of this post)

“Stripper Week”?  What’s that you ask?  Well, the idea was hatched by JT88keys on his blog this week, and it was sort of a follow up to last week’s “Hooker Week” as explained here.  “Hooker Week” was conceived by grrouchie but he said it was inspired by me.  Anyway, it is thus “Stripper Week” in the poker blogosphere and I will put all the appropriate links to other “Stripper Week”-appropriate posts at the bottom of this post, and I will keep updating this as the posts come in.  So plan on checking back here later.

Unfortunately, it’s been many, many years since I’ve been in a strip club, and the best story I have from such an establishment is one I heard second hand.  But when your country calls, you have to answer, and thus I give you this post.

Back in the early days of my Vegas visits (like early 1980’s), my friend and I always visited together.  On one of our early visits we dropped into the Palomino Club in North Las Vegas.  I’ve already discussed this establishment a bit in this post here when I discovered that they now had nude male dancers on the weekend and that one of the regular players at the BSC was in fact a nude male dancer there.  But in the ’80’s, only women took their clothes off there.

The most unique feature of the club was that unlike most strip clubs that had full frontal nudity, it served alcohol.  That really wasn’t much of a factor for us anyway, as my pal didn’t drink at all and I could pretty much take it or leave it.  I believe our first visit was during day time because we had our doubts about the quality of the neighborhood.

The show was ok, nothing out of the ordinary until a big blonde came on stage.  She had a western outfit on, had big hair, had big tits, and much to our surprise, had a microphone and began doing a “routine.”  Rather than just take off her clothes and dance, she actually had a sort of a comedy act.

When she spoke, she had a sort of twang like Dolly Parton, who was very big at that time.  With the hair, the tits, and the voice, I immediately referred to her as “The Dolly Parton of Sleaze.”

She told some jokes and talked a lot about cowboys.  Oh and somewhere along the way she got completely naked. She then picked a guy from the audience, someone sitting right on the stage (or the runway, as we called it then) and did a lot of schtick with him.  She asked him if he was a cowboy or made him a honorary cowboy or something like that.  Then she tied his hands behind his back.  Then she said something like, “You know what a cowboy wants to do after a long day of herding cattle?  He wants to eat a big meal!  He’s hungry.”  She asked the guy whose hands she tied if he wanted a snack.  He of course said yes.

Then she said, “You know what cowboys like to eat after a hard day on the ranch? Peanut Butter!” From somewhere, she whipped out a jar of peanut butter.  And she dipped her fingers in the peanut butter and began to spread it on her inner thighs.  Her upper inner thighs.  Leaning the stage, she put her legs on the guys shoulders in such a way that the guy’s face was extremely close to the stripper’s bush (back then, all women had them).  She said to the guy, “Come on, cowboy, eat up!”  And then with her hands on the stage and her legs on the guy’s shoulders. She started bouncing and writhing around like crazy, thrusting her inner thighs, and a lot more I’m sure, into the guys face, who was presumably licking up the peanut butter….and probably something else.  The way this looked from our seats, there was no way the guy didn’t get his face into the “promised land” repeatedly. It was hard to consider this as anything other than a sex act.

I said to my pal, “I think we’re actually witnessing an act of prostitution.”  Now I don’t know if lap dances existed back then, but for sure I had never heard of them, nor had I ever seen anything quite like this in a public place. But this was well beyond any type of lap dance I’ve heard about since, and the guy didn’t even pay for it, other than the same admission/2 drink minimum we all paid. I can’t say I didn’t find it interesting.  Anyway, after a few minutes or less, she stopped, got up, sorta cleaned up the guy’s face, which had peanut butter—at the very least—all over it, took a bow and thanked the guy for being a good sport!

We left soon thereafter as the rest of the girls did much more routine sets.  But we couldn’t stop talking about “The Peanut Butter Lady.”  It was certainly unique.  Sure the “in your face” part was interesting, but we both enjoyed that she actually was an “entertainer” and not just a stripper, and we figured we might return there on her next visit to see if we could see her or some other girl put on a show above and beyond just taking her clothes off and dancing naked (not that that isn’t a good thing in and of itself). 

So next trip to Vegas we returned to the Palomino Club.  We didn’t see anything like the Peanut Butter Lady (then, or ever again).  Instead, we saw something better.  Much, much, better.

We’d been there awhile and they introduce the next dancer, “Angela.”  I’m using her real stage name here because, well I suspect she wasn’t really named “Angela” and besides, this was a long time ago and I have to assume she is no longer taking her clothes off for money.  Anyway, Angela comes out in a Western outfit, chaps, etc, much like the PB Lady.  But she was a brunette, long dark hair.  And she was wearing a 10 gallon cowboy hat.  And just looking at her with her clothes on, she made “the Dolly Parton of sleaze” look flat-chested. 

And then, at some point, as strippers inevitably do, she took her top off.  This was a good thing.  This was a very good thing.  This was a very, very good thing.  There were audible gasps.  Tongues were on table.  It was a sight to behold.

There is no way for me to describe Angela that will do her justice, and no way to describe her without lending credence to the notion that I am “obsessed with bosoms” as announced here.  But Angela had the most awesome looking breasts I’d ever seen in my life, before or since.  They weren’t just big, but they didn’t sag, they didn’t droop (except the tiniest bit, perhaps) and they were perfectly shaped.  And they were natural.  How could I be sure?  Because of the way they moved, because they were “breast-shaped” and one other reason I’ll get to shortly.

Once she was more or less completely naked, it was obvious that Angela had the best looking female body I’d ever seen in my life.  Because aside from her incredible, natural chest, she was actually kind of skinny.  Almost too skinny, except for her chest.  Oh, to be sure, she had shapely legs and a nice ass, but she also had a totally flat stomach, narrow waist.  But when those tits moved out of the way, you could see the outline of her ribcage.  Really, she was a total freak of nature.  Women who are that naturally that big on top tend to be a little bit on the heavy side else, since breast tissue is basically fat.  Not Angela.  The best way to describe her may be to say that she was basically a real life, human version of Jessica Rabbit.

Oh and by the way, she had a very pretty face as well.  We kind of thought there was a resemblance to Lynda Carter, and this was not far removed from her Wonder Woman days when she was looking mighty good.  So imagine Lynda Carter with the most spectacular body you could possibly envision.  Yeah.  She was that sizzling.

At one point, Angela did a bit where she took off her 10 gallon hat, stuffed her tits into it, and of course, it stayed up perfectly, no hands.  She probably could have kept a much bigger hat up.  Then she walked around, stark naked save the hat covering her chest, and shook her ta-ta’s.  It was quite an interesting sight, but she took the hat off after a short while, much to the delight of everyone in the crowd.

Now the first couple of times we went to Palomino Club, we actually saw no one tip the girls.  Apparently that idea hadn’t taken hold yet.  So Angela went over to random guys sitting at the runway and did something I’m sure they’ll never forget.  She grabbed their heads and stuck one of her tits in it.  I didn’t see anyone complaining about that.  I believe our friend and I were not lucky enough to be chosen for this experience the first time we went.  But when we went back on our next trip (oh yes, we went back), we saw guys tipping the girls and realized that now, the way Angela thanked the guys who tipped her was to shove a tit in their face. This only cost a buck, and after experiencing this, my friend and I both agreed that this was “the best buck we ever spent.”  There was no better value in Vegas, I assure you.  Anyway, this was the proof positive that Angela’s breasts were “original factory installed equipment” and not “after market.”

Angela made such an impression on us that from then on, every time we went to Vegas, we called over to see when she was working and made sure we went she was there.  She never disappointed. And we never saw any other girls there that were even close to as memorable as she was.  When she stopped working there, we stopped going there.  By then, more and more of the girls had only those “after market” breasts to ogle, and neither of us were fans of some plastic surgeon’s work. 

So my last stripper story probably took place before the ones above, and happened to someone else, a friend I’ll call Matt. Matt was dating a girl I’ll call Tiffany, because that sounds like a stripper’s name and Tiffany was not a stripper.  If I recall the story correctly, Tiffany had been in some kind of traffic accident and had scars over her body and was very sensitive to how she looked naked.  Despite that, or possibly because of it, Tiffany had a fascination with strip clubs and strippers.

She kept begging for Matt to take her to a local strip club in L.A. and one day he finally gave in.  Matt wanted to sit away from the runway but Tiffany insisted that they sit on the runway.  I believe a comment was made by someone how unusual it was to see a woman on the runway.

So at one point a girl comes out and she gets completely naked and her thing (maybe all the girls at this club’s thing) was to get down the stage, hands behind her on the stage, and spread her legs right in front of certain guys on the runway so that these guys got a really good look at “the promised land”.  I don’t remember if these were guys who put dollar bills on the stage or they were picked randomly.

Now the girl was showing her goods to either Matt or the guy on the other side of Tiffany.  And Tiffany apparently found this particularly part of her routine rather amusing.  Involuntarily, she let started to laugh

The girl with her legs spread did not appreciate that.  Without moving her body, she managed to turn her head in such a way that she was looking directly at Tiffany.  And, according to Matt, she shot Tiffany one of the all time great, “if looks good kill” looks.  It was so severe that Tiffany put her hand to her mouth and stopped laughing immediately.  There was a kind of deadly silence for an instant.  I’m guessing Tiffany was trying to figure out if and how she should apologize.

So Matt leans over to Tiffany and whispers, “You’ve just learned a very important lesson in life.  Never laugh when a girl shows you her vagina.” 

Posts celebrating “Stripper Week” are below:

http://jt88keys.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-stories.html

http://craftysouthpaw.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-stripper-story-and-my-apology-to.html

http://jt88keys.blogspot.com/2012/03/two-more-stripper-stories.html

http://veryjosie.blogspot.com/2012/03/best-intentions.html

http://goberude.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-story.html

http://lightning36.blogspot.com/2012/03/strip-joint-story-yes-place-was-as.html

http://veryjosie.blogspot.com/2012/03/up-close-and-personal-with-male-hooker.html

http://grrouchie.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-confessions.html

http://musingsofacrankycaregiver.blogspot.com/2012/03/twofer-hooker-story-and-stripper-story.html

http://goberude.blogspot.com/2012/03/strip-club.html

http://sirfwalgman.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-week.html

Now Carmel has weighed in, be sure to read her two hysterical entries in this order:

http://bebopcarmel.blogspot.com/2012/03/its-not-destination-its-journeymy-strip.html

http://bebopcarmel.blogspot.com/2012/03/and-then-what-had-happened-was.html

The Check-Shove From Hell

This happened last week, on my second to last night in Vegas.  I got to BSC early, too early to have dinner.  I didn’t like the 1/2 table I was at.  There was a guy at the table with a ton of chips and was acting every bit the table bully.  Once I realized he was raising and 3 betting a lot with marginal hands, I just waited for a hand where I could take advantage of his LAGy tendencies.  But I didn’t get the opportunity, and lost about $70 of my $200 buy trying to play a few hands that didn’t pan out.  I didn’t bother to ask for a table change; instead I just picked up my remaining chips and cashed out when I took a dinner break.  If I liked the table I would have left my chips and held my seat, I knew I would back in well less than an hour, but since I wanted a table change anyway I cashed out so I could start fresh after dinner.

Back a little later and now well fed, I looked over and the table bully was still there, so when I asked for a seat I told them any table but that one.  I soon got a new seat and saw a guy over in Seat 9 with over $700 in chips, most of which he must have won since the maximum buy-in is $300.  I started over with $200 in seat 5.  I concentrated on Seat 9 as the hands were dealt to see if he was someone I wanted to get away from or perhaps someone whose stack I could go after.  It didn’t take me long to find out.

After just a few hands UTG makes the absolute min raise of $4.  I was so new to the table I wondered if that had been happening a lot there (it was anomaly as it turned out).  Seat 9 made it $14.  Folded back to me on the button and I wake up with pocket Aces.  How nice.  I figured the original raiser would fold to the $14 so I wasn’t worried about him.  There was no small blind in this hand, so I figured it would be likely just be Seat 9 and me to see the flop no matter what I did.  I thought therefore it was safe to only make it $25.  I figured that might take down the pot there, but if not, I was in good shape.

BB and UTG insta-folded.  Seat 9 called without thinking much. I don’t recall the flop but it was low cards and not at all scary.  Seat 9 checked and I bet $40.  I expected him to fold but instead he check-raised me to $80.

Here’s where I’ve grown as a No Limit player.  A month or two before I would have folded or perhaps called.  Not this time.  “All in” I said.  I actually had read his check-raise as a move or a test and thought he’d fold, but he snap-called me with his huge stack.  He didn’t show his hand and neither did I.

A Queen on the turn scared me a bit, he would like that flop if he had a pocket Queens. The river paired the board with 4’s which may have saved me.  I suppose he could have flopped 2 pair if he raised with low connectors.  I showed my Ace’s and he looked for a couple of seconds, said nice hand, and mucked his cards.  So, a nice early double up for me and I have no idea what he check-raised me with.  But watching him play after this, he could have had anything.  I saw him give away all his chips over the next hour, unfortunately no more to me.  He bought in again and then chipped back up, getting close to the $700 he had again.  My opinion is that he wasn’t a very good player, called way too often with weak hands, and had gotten lucky on some suck outs.

Anyway, with a nice stack of around $400 in front of me, I was happy and enjoying the game.  Then my dealer buddy Barry joined the table.  You can read about the time Barry made a huge goof and cost me a pot here. As I mentioned at the end of that post, we were now “pals” and we always have a nice chat whenever we see each other in the poker room or he deals to me.  Barry was not joining the table to deal, he was there to play.  I had seen Barry play there a lot, but had only played with him once for just a few minutes at a 2/4 game while he was waiting to be called to the 1/2 game.  Point being I had no idea how he played.

About the same time Barry took Seat 9 another new player took Seat 7.  Barry knew this player, I’m not sure how.  He might have been a friend of his, or he might have been just another regular at BSC he’s played with and dealt to, like me.  They said hi and of course Barry and I exchanged pleasantries as well.

I don’t recall how much he bought in for or whether he had lost or won to get to this point, but for this hand he had about $130 in front of him.  I was still flush with chips tho possibly a little less than the $400 I had after doubling up with my Aces.  UTG, Barry made it $9, a fairly average raise for the table, perhaps a little smaller than most.  It folded to me and I looked down at pocket Queens.  Here’s where I made my big mistake.  I am still uncomfortable 3 betting pre-flop, and usually only do it with Aces or Kings.  I knew Barry’s raising range included an awful lot of hands I was ahead of.  But I chickened out and just called.  Bad move.

Seat 7, Barry’s friend, was the only other caller. The flop was all low cards, two diamonds.  I figured if Barry had a pocket pair, medium or higher, he would like that flop, otherwise, not so much.  When Barry checked the flop, I thought my Queens were good.  I bet $30, maybe a little more than the pot, trying to scare off anyone who had a couple of diamonds.  But Seat 7 didn’t go anywhere, he called.  Then Barry shoved.

Yeah.  He freakin’ shoved.  After checking.  A check-shove on that board?  Seriously?  Now I had to consider a draw or possibly a set.  A small raise with a low to medium pocket pair, then a check raise when he hit his set made sense.  Plus he had to bet big to scare away a flush draw if he indeed had a set. 

But a check-raise only works if you are sure there’s gonna be a bet behind you.  He was the pre-flop raiser, I just called, he didn’t know I had pocket Queens.  He couldn’t be sure either one of us would bet, so it was kind of a risky move. 

I gave Barry a dirty look and thought long and hard.  My problem here was that there was another player behind me.  He had called my $30 bet so he had something too.  I couldn’t really call, my best play if I stayed was to shove and try to get Seat 7 out.  I had him covered too, but he had over $200 as I recall, and thus I’d be risking $200 on a lousy pair of Queens.  Rightly or wrongly, I thought it wasn’t worth the risk and folded.  Seat 7 thought about it even longer than I had….and folded as well.  Barry mucked his cards and took down the pot.

I had lost the hand, but I had won something much more important—something to hold over Barry’s head and tease him about!  And don’t for a second think I didn’t.  As he stacked his chips, I said, “Nice bet” in the most sarcastic voice I could muster.  I said to him, “You can forget about ever getting a tip from me again!”  I was kidding and I think Barry knew that, but he probably wasn’t 100% sure about that.  He looked over to Seat 7 and kind of whispered to me, “I’ll tell you what I had, but later, not now.”  It was clear he didn’t want everyone to know what he had, or perhaps he just didn’t want his other buddy in Seat 7 to know.  I must have said something like, “I thought we were friends.”  At one point I actually joked, “You better hope I don’t see you in the parking lot.”  I was laughing and smiling when I said these things, but Barry kept apologizing and acting like he might have been taking me seriously.  And I told every new dealer that came to the table about the hand, about how Barry played it, and told them all I was never going to tip Barry again.  They all laughed at that. 

Finally when I came back from the Mens Room, he caught me and tried to tell me what he had, I had a hard time understanding.  He said he had like 36 outs!  As best I could follow, he had raised with 2-5 diamonds and flopped a double gutter straight draw, a flush draw, and of course a straight flush draw.  So it was somewhat a semi-bluff.  The shove was designed to take the pot down there, but if called, he had a lot of chances to make his hand.  Of course, if he hits his straight and then another diamond hits, he has to worry about losing to a bigger flush.  My flop bet and Seat 7’s call could easily have meant one of us had A-x of diamonds.

“You raised with 2-5?”

“It’s my favorite hand.”  I thought he was gonna say, “It was soooooted."

Now for sure I see how badly I played it pre-flop. I think if I’d re-raised him with my Queens he would have folded his favorite hand.  Of course, I only had his word for it that that’s what he had.

Back at the table, I teased him one more time about not tipping him ever again, then I said, “You know, I’m only kidding.”  He said he knew that, but I’m not sure. Then I said, “Hey, all’s fair at the poker table, right?  I mean, you shouldn’t be sitting down at a poker table unless you’re prepared to check-raise your own grandmother!”  This brought chuckles from almost everyone at the table.

I ended up leaving the game with a $250 profit, despite that hand.  The next night, Barry was playing again but this time at the 2/5 game.  When I saw him playing as I walked passed him, I couldn’t resist giving him just a little more shit.  I just pointed to him and said, loudly, “You!”  He immediately got him and tried again to explain the hand to me again.  But then I remembered something I had yet to give him a hard time about.  Why did he check the flop and then shove?  That was really the nasty part of his play, the check-raise (check-shove).  That was what really hurt.

So he says to me that it was a mistake.  He was talking to the cocktail waitress when he was supposed to bet and was distracted.  Yeah, right.  “No, no, I would never check-raise you, Robert.”  I said ok, I was just kidding anyway.  When I got back to the game I was at, I asked a couple of the dealers I’d told the story if they bought the story about accidentally check-shoving. They all laughed and were non-committal.

All kidding aside, I really am fine with his play, whether he was telling the truth about accidentally check-raising me or not.  Poker ain’t for sissies.  I really meant it about check-raising your own grandmother.

But this does point out a problem that dealers have when they play in their own casino (sometimes on the clock, sometimes not).  Do they play differently because they are sometimes playing against regulars?  A couple of dealers I’ve played against at the 2/4 game back in the day seemed to indicate to me that they either felt guilty winning a pot I was involved in or wouldn’t play the same way if I was in a hand, i.e., they would prefer not to take my money. They don’t want to take “regular’s” money because by coming in so much we help keep the room busy, help them keep their jobs and help them financially by being generally good tippers. 

Anyway, fellow blogger Ron B, who deals at Bally’s, recently had a couple of posts talking about his poker playing and how he prefers not to play where he works.  Money quote: “I generally have a personal rule that I try not to play in the same room I deal...In my opinion, it's a conflict of interest...I don't like playing with ‘my’ customers. I don't like playing against them, who help me pay my bills (By Tipping), and then taking their money...It fall under the moniker, ‘Don't bite the hand that feeds you.’”

Links to the those posts are below, you can even see my comment about it in one.

Anyway, all kidding aside, it was probably worth losing that hand to Barry just for the blog post.  Holy shit, did I really say that?  Anyway, no hard feelings, Barry and next time we play, I promise to check raise you!

http://balt999.blogspot.com/2012/02/bouncing-back-after-bad-session-mirage.html

http://balt999.blogspot.com/2012/02/just-shut-up-already-my-weekend-of.html