Pokerama-rama! Now with more beer!

Beer, brewing and poker, with possibly some inane drivel on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Poker Championship

I have registered to play in the
Online Poker Blogger Championship!

This event is powered by PokerStars.

Registration code: 9016295

I don't know what kind of site this "PokerStars" is, but this sounds cool. Two world champions? Why have I never heard of it? Oh well, might as well. And you can bet I'll busting all you pansies on the way to my Xbox 360.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

How do you deal with burnout? How do you deal with a plateau?

I just looked back at the number of Neteller transactions I've had since the beginning of March, and it made me a little sad. Adding them all up made it worse. Had I executed a decent bankroll strategy, I'd be much happier with myself than I am at this very moment, poker-wise. I feel bad about posting an amount, but I'm going to do it anyhow, mostly for myself to look at for motivation and not to be a braggart. And honestly, it's a small amount by other's standards.

+A SHITLOAD(for me)

That's re-goddamn-fucking-rope-a-smurf-in-the-eye-diculous!

My bankroll would be right around there, had I not been withdrawal happy. If only I'd been withdrawal happy in other, more delicate areas of my life, I wouldn't be paying so much in child support right now.

I'm kidding. Can you imagine me with a kid right now? That poor, imaginary child.

Most of that pseudo-bankroll has been made by relieving goobs of their monetary burden, all while two-tabling mini NL games(1/2 NL and under), with a few good MTT showings tossed in there for flavor, without rakeback and without bonuses. Yay, proud-proud, happy-happy and all that jizz. That's fine and all, but it causes me to take a step back and question--again--why I'm really playing this game.

Ok, maybe not so much why I've been playing, but why I want to continue playing. It's obvious that, over the past 6 months, it's because I wanted to make a little bit of ching, and not to improve. It's humbling to say that I hit a plateau right at 1/2NL. But I don't feel like I can't beat the game. I admit, more to myself than anybody else, that I made mistakes, but 1/2NL is not populated by great players.

This again? Yeah, this again.

I've Ram Man-ed myself into a wall because the money mattered. I cared about what I might use the profits for, and I was concentrating on what would slip through my hands should I happen to go on an extended bad run. I waterfalled out of control. One bad beat, one slip up, and I started played less than well. I played poorly. I became a calling station. I didn't raise for value on the end. I don't even want to know how many best hands I folded.

It's been said time and time again, that if you want to be a winning player, to truly step past the trip-stick that causes most others to falter, you need to have absolutely no concept of money. The money isn't real, it doesn't matter. You can't play your best game when worried about losing. I obviously have big issues with this.

I don't know why I have this mental block, either. I get to a certain bankroll level, and I play like shit. The last month or so, whenever I jump online, I'm completely bored by playing ABC poker. Why? Because ABC poker is fucking boring. There's no passion for grinding.

And that tells me that I can't go on playing this game forever by plugging away for $800/month wins. It's boring. It's work. And I never intended for a hobby to get to the point where it felt like work. It has, though. And I don't like it one bit. Nope, not one. Not even an iota.

Huh, I think I plateaud while writing this post. Just like in poker, I'm stuck.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Saturday night, Sir Bobby Bracelet(he's been knighted, don't-chya-know) and I were girly talking through IM, and our lack of poker game lately produced the best idea I think either of us have ever had.

We're going to create a program that's goes against everything a student of this stupid game has ever done to improve. There is no learning. There is no studying, either. Crack a book? Hell no, and there sure in the hell isn't a lightbulb moment involved.

We'll call it "Fuck Readin'!"

Consider it the Anti-Book-it!, but instead of receiving a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza for every 5 books read, you lose a large chunk of a buy-in to the table retard for every book not read. Fuck readin'!

Been playing so passively in a tournament that you've made it to level IV of a MTT with a VPIP of 2%? There is no retooling, no going back to the drawing board, there is definitely no taking a step back to get a different perspective on why your game sucks. (This was one of my stats from Saturday, by the way)

Say it with me, Folks; Fuck Readin'!

In the Fuck Readin' program, you can't go back and read Harrington Vol I/II to figure out why you're game has gone so horribly awry. No, you just continue to blindly trudge forward, head down, because it's more likely that you're just running bad, or have been card dead for the last month or so, than it is for you admit that you're playing like shit. If you headbutt a brick wall, back and up and walk faster. Run if you need to. The wall will come down eventually, right? Back me up on this one, Berlin.

That's the beauty of the Fuck Readin'! program; the only thing you need to do to play poker, is the ability to press the "call" button and the hope that you won't get outdrawn. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. What else could you possibly need? Not reading, that's for sure.

And it's cheap, too. Just send me 3 installment payments of $29.99 each(to replenish my bankroll), and I'll quickly mail you the Fuck Readin'! informational packet. In the packet you will recieve one "Fuck Readin!" bumper sticker--color; retina-searing pink--one laminated membership card that reads "[insert your name here] Fucks Readin!", and one signed and framed picture of me wearing a Fuck Readin'! t-shirt, winking and giving the a-ok sign.

You won't find this deal anywhere else. You'd be stupid not to pay me large sums of money for this crap. Act quickly, supplies are limited. Almost non-existent, actually!

FUCK READIN'! (right in it's papery ear)

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

I'm not dead yet.

Nope, I'm still here, still drinking, and still playing [very little] poker over the last week. I hit the figurative wall. I played and played and played get the picture. And then I got to a point where I'd sit in front of my computer, pull up a few tables like I've done hundreds of times before, and then not pay attention to the games. It bored me. And that's not a mindset I need to sit down with anymore.

Now, don't go thinking that I'm going quit the game, because we all know that's exactly the Addict In Denial's defense. I know better. And I'm not about to go on any hiaatus. Nope, that's because I'm just returning from one that was a few days long. See, I tell you all after I've already returned so that you don't have to worry about me. It's all about you.

What do you mean you didn't even know I was gone? Bite me!

The little poker I have been playing has been of the PLO variety, and I realize now that I have no clue how to play. I do know that two pair isn't that good of a hand, and that bottom set can be tossed more often than not, but there are so many other situations that I just have no clue about. Like, what do I do when holding JJ66 double suited and it's been potted before me? Is that pretty much a trash hand when it's been raised? I don't know! I fold my fair share of what are probable decent hands because I'm completely unsure what I'm supposed to do with them.

Sometime in the next few days I'm going to pull out Super System II and read Lyle Berman's chapter on PLO. Hopefully that will clear some things up for me. If not, I'll just continue playing like a po-tard. That's the abbreviated version of "poker retard", in case you were wondering.

And oh man, can I ever play the part of the po-tard, and sometimes without even trying! Talent, I tells ya. T-a-l-e-n-t.

What else?

Oh yeah, I think I've found the key that releases the writer inside me. Want to know where I found it? Of course you do.

All you have to do to get me to write, a lot, is this: introduce me to one of your [female] friends, have her date me for a few weeks, and at the end of that time, tell her to uncerimoniously dump me. Works like a charm.

It's true, Trim is my writing kryptonite. I am powerless against the poon.

Now that I no longer have what some people out there a "girlfriend"(I don't call them that, but some do)I can't stop writing. No, no, it's ok. I'm fine. This was bound to happen, so it's not as if I'm crushed. But if you did want to buy me the gift of beer, who am I to stop you?

You heard what I said; beer me.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Rambley rambley. I'm waiting for my flat tire to get fixed, so I have some time to play and simultaneously blog. Forgive me.

I've been around this game long to see a lot of people that have absolutely no clue what they're doing.

Like, just a second ago, I saw a $57 dollar raise of a $1 bet into a $3 pot. O...k? I don't get it, but I'm sure the guy that made the play does. The only justification I would accept is a button misclick. That's it. I've been known to call an all-in on the wrong table while holding A7o, when on the table that I meant to call an all-in on I was holding aces. But this didn't look like a case of fat fingers.

A year ago, the big play with aces was to limp re-raise. Lately, though, I'm continuously seeing the powerful limp-call method of playing the best starting hand in hold 'em. Forget about trying to win a big pot. Forget trying to knock people out of the hand. It's all about playing the hand as passively as possible. That's key.

I think I'm in dire need of a live poker fix, because I find myself screaming "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING, ASSHAT?" at my screen an awful lot lately. In fact, almost every hand I'm involved in has me reacting in such a manner. At least live, I don't feel the need to berate someone that can actually hear me and give me a much needed beatdown. For someone that hates stupid people as much as I do, I sure did make bad choice of hobby.

Oh, nice. I just played a hand against a guy that limped, caught his set(of 10's), bet a dollar and took down the pot. And then showed his monster, like he'd accomplished something that we should admire him for. Other than his ability to actually remember to breathe, I'm not so sure he has all that much in this world to be proud of.

And yep, that was just a $17 open raise on a $1 big blind. Well played, sir. Don't forget the mental midgets when you finally do move up to 1/2 NL. We peons will appreciate it. That is, if we can stop drooling, because we can't do that and think at think at the same time.

I think I've got my major problem in regards to this pinned down. I'm the type of person that likes to figure things out, and on the top of that list, is people. I like to be able to dissect a person's brain--figuratively--to find out what they're thinking, and why they're thinking that way. People interest the hell out of me. And for the life of me, I can NOT figure out the subpar poker player. Trust me, it's frustrating. And granted, I am not "good", but I know that I am not "bad". It just makes no sense.

Moving right along, ahem.

I recently ran across Poker Updates, which is an online poker show. I'm only on the second episode, and overall, it's fairly good. But, I got hung up on one of the questions they posed.

"Would you give up sex for one year in trade for one big tournament win?"

Are you kidding me? Of course I would! Who's the nympho that wouldn't give up sex for a million dollars? I'd lop off my own dick for a million dollars. Hell, I'd have enough money that I'd be able to order the surgeons to reconstruct me a new penis out of the fat pad that I'm going to create from turning into jobless, millionaire glutton. One million dollars.

But I wouldn't want to win the WSOP ME, because then everybody would nitpick about my play, and call me a dickless poker player. I don't need that.

The best part--by a thousand miles--about Poker Updates, is the commercials. Let's just say that they're not suited for prudish, American television. If you haven't yet, watch 'em. You'll thank me.

Monday, September 05, 2005

That's my second royal, bitches! And the guy is betting into me. Unfortunately, he must've been on a steal, because I didn't get his last $11. Shit.

Last night(now a few nights ago. This post is a weekend in the making) I decided to take my ancient laptop apart because I was bored, and my roommates still use my television. I thought that I was smart enough to get it back together, because it's not like I was doing any major surgery on the damn thing. I just wanted to see what I can piece for when I do actually buy my new laptop. Whoops, that was a gross overestimate of my computer putting-back-together skills. It's broken, and after 3 days without it, I think I may be, too.

But now, I think that my excitement about a new toy was the straw that broke my bankroll's back. Calling it a "slide" wouldn't do it justice. Plummet is more like it. I am running bad, Mang. I feel like I just took a few steps too many off of Half Dome and left my parachute in my other pants.

Since Friday, I have been run down in as many ways as a guy with a false sense of accomplishment can. Most of this bankroll hit took place on Doyle's, which had been so very good to me over the past few months. But, apparently Doyle and Lee Jones are in cahoots and made the decision to tag team me. And here I always thought my first threesome would be--oh, I don't know--a little sexier.

Within two hands on seperate Stars SNG's just a minute ago., I had my aces cracked by retards that called my raise and then caught monsters. How dare they, damn it?

Hold on, I need to vent. Here are few things that have I just can't get enough of. Seriously, more of all of the following, please. They warm my cockles, whatever the fuck a cockle is, I have no clue.

1-Min re-raises of a min raise.
2-Men wearing pink. You're not tough; you're the color of a vagina.
3-Slow playing aces so slow that you only call bets on the flop, turn and river, never once raising. That's not being tricky, that's just being a pansy
4-An opponent hitting the hand their chasing--like a shitty flush--and then checking it down. P-u-s-s...why? No clue!
5-There is no (number sign) five
6-Oversized sunglasses. Nice goggles, BugFace.
7-Not relieving the table maniac of the burden that is his money, because he seems to be dying to give it to everybody else. So frustrating.

Ok, that's enough for now. I'm going log off and try to find innovative new ways to still get paid to work, but not actually have to go into work. Wish me luck. I may need to drink tonight, you know, because summer is officially over as of today.

White boy, out.