"What does that make, 7 posts this year now? Color me impressed."

                           Bobby Bracelet, in response to my last unimaginative post

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He's right, you know; I haven't been posting that much lately, mostly because I haven't had anything to say. Nothing exciting--or even marginally interesting, for that matter--on the poker side of things for me lately. No big pots lost or won, no final tables, no suck-outs to rant about.

That means you all owe me $1 for sparing you the bad beat stories. All 2.3 of you.

This time last year-- not in July, but at the start of the WSOP--I was in Vegas for my very first WPBT event at the Aladdin. I was excited and a little bit nervous. Not that there was anything to worry about. Most, if not all, of the people were very cool. And very drunk. I might be leaving out an asshole or two, but I don't remember meeting anyone that was an out and out cockbite.

My early tournament suckout on Pauly(my 9's walloping his 10's) allowed me to ride my chipstack to the final table, just barely. Just before the last 10 people were about to sit down after a break, Pauly came up to me with some advice.

"Dude. You're the best player in here." he muttered with a truckload of booze on his breath. "Win this fucking thing".

Even though I barely had enough to post the big blind that was rapidly approaching, I believed him. For all of about a nanosecond.

I watched as he stumbled directly over to BG and giving him the exact same pep talk.

Fittingly, I was the first person out when forced to call someone's EP raise with 7's, while they held QQ. Last place at the final table. Lucky for me, though, the rest of the table agreed to a 10th place save and I ended up with more money than the entrance fee, if only by a few dollars.

And that was almost as good as the win, right?

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I signed up early for the IP WPBT event in December, and decided that I was not allowed to play as much poker as I did in June. The Alladin trip was poker, poker, poker, gotta play the poker when I wake up, after lunch, late at night. If I was awake, I was playing poker. The downfall with playing so much poker was that I didn't get to hang out--or even talk to--as many people as I'd liked. One of that few regrets from the June trip, that.

When December rolled around, I kept the promise made after returning from Vegas the first time. I played very little poker and wouldn't you know it, had a much better time. To compare the two trips would not even fair, as June would be left crying in the fetal position, drinking MD 20/20 in order to scour away the hurt deep down inside.

I had some coversations, that I'm sure were incredible, but the amount of booze I consumed are only a slight factor in why I don't remember any of them. And by "slight, I mean "huge".

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You'd think that two times in Vegas would be enough to satiate my live poker jones until the WSOP this year, but there you go thinking again. I took an impromptu trip in January where I extended my stay by an extra day. And then there was the Vegas/Playboy Mansion trip in March where I'm pretty sure I puked so hard my o-ring gave out. That's not quite the same as an extra day, but they're in the same family.

I was burnt out on Vegas in a bad way. For the first time in almost a year I was happy to get on a plane so I could get as far away from Vegas as possible. I didn't want to play poker, didn't want to spend money even. Vegas is the last place you want to be when money becomes an issue. Even Bob didn't want to gamble, and that's saying something. Of course, this was after he decided to learn Pai-gow tiles at 10am in the morning.

So, when the first rumbles of the WPBT:Caeser's Edition started in early spring, I was not excited. I don't even remember looking at any specifics other than where the tournament was being held. Even that didn't excite me that much. Color me nostagic, but the IP held my loyalty for how they treated us the last time through in December. Any place with an open bar gets my vote, even though I end up spending more money than I would normally at a bar because everything is "free".

"$5 tip on one bottle of Miller Lite? Of course I want to do that!"

Come to think of it, that's how I spent $80 for the good(free) redbull/vodka at the Playboy Mansion. I may have to go back to my drinking playbook and re-sketch of few of my plays.

Anyhow, with other impending financial obligations(a possible return to school and a short move away from the 3-messy dudes-for-roommates lifestyle come October) on the horizon, I'd made no plans to attend this installment of the WPBT. I can't say I would've felt like I was missing out, either. But, I wouldn't be writing down all these crazy things called "words" and "sentences" if plans hadn't changed.

A few nights ago I received an offer I simply couldn't refuse, an offer that for which I'll be forever grateful. Even after I'm forced to utility puke in Bellagio's chocolate fountain at 1pm on Saturday afternoon.

So, yes, I will be in Vegas on July 7th at 1pm, but you won't find me in any poker room. I'll most likely be at one of the following three places;

Friday night: Sherwood Forest--or--MGM Sportsbook bar
Saturday: Caeser's sportsbook, watching the World Cup's meaningless 3rd place game.
Saturday night: Swaying down Las Vegas Blvd, on my way to God knows where.

What are the chances that somebody with fall and throw a beer in their own face this time 'round? That would be effing sweet.

8:06pm: I'm bored, the beer is being converted to pee, I'm playing poker, and the WPT is on in the background. Oh yeah, I also just downloaded the TweakUI PowerTool so that Doyle's Room tables doesn't steal focus. I'm giddy, so I decided to liveblog the next few hours. Not that anybody cares, though.

8:09pm: I wish every hand turned into DQB Kings for me on the turn, with the opponent betting into me. It makes this game so easy.

8:11pm: Anyone else watch the US vs. Italy today? What a joke. Also, this is tough while two-tabling 6-max.

8:15pm Later tonight, I'll be heading to a local German bar called Gasthof Zur Gemutlichkeit. It's more fun to say than it is to look at. I'm a big fan of drinking from a boot(flick!), but I don't think that will be happening tonight. Something about the girlfriend and her friends not "being caught dead drinking from a boot". Blah blah blah. So glad I was born without a vagina.

8:20pmSo, the board reads 5d-6d-As-Ks-x. You've called bets all the way down with your QQ. What's your play on the river? You bet your whole stack(3x the pot), of course! And of course, the other guy--that was me--holds pocket kings. What a dipshit.

8:25pm There was just a commercial on Travel for Iconclasts with Renee Zellweger. Does anyone else thinks she looks like a FAS baby? Open your eyes, woman.

8:27pm: Oooh, someone just updated in Bloglines! Oh, just me. Fuck I'm bored.

8:32pm: Anthony Bourdain reminds me of an older, much older, Joe Speaker

8:33pm: I've given up on punctuation

8:38pm: For those of you that don't know, I won't be in Vegas in a few weeks. That's ok, though, because 4 times since December is more than enough. Oh yeah, and 69o is strong enough to call a preflop raise. Just so you know, you know.

8:40pm:Here I sit, trying to properly lubricate myself for later. I'm going out with all the girl's friends, so it should be interesting. Anyone want to set the over/under for the time I curl up in the corner with a 3L of Warsteiner and ignore everyone?

8:45pm: Pee break. This could take awhile. Don't wait up.

8:50pm: Doyle'sRoom has an annoying "It's your turn" buzzer, so I copied the Poker Stars equivalent over the top of it. Now with the sizable tables and the new themes, is there anything that Poker Stars doesn't do right? Well, outside of letting me win, of course.

8:55pm: There is nothing worse then your opponent getting a card that isn't the card they're looking for, but still totally cancels out your turned full house. Christ, people play bad.

9:07pm: I just remembered, again, that I can't play in the blogger tourney tomorrow. Anyone want to take my place? Hrm, I wonder if ZeeJustin is free.

9:25pm: My roommate and I are both watching the Stanley Cup Finals, I in the living room--where the Tivo is located--and he in the kitchen, without Tivo. Ward for Carolina made an awesome save on the line a few minutes ago, so I paused the Tivo because the roommate missed it. He came in the living room, watched to goal, and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, I heard "OH MY GOD, WHAT A GOAL!"

I was confused, because the players on my tv were still skating around all willynilly. Um, yeah, I forgot to go live and I was a minute behind real time. It freaked me out when he first screamed because I thought he could see into the future.

Yeah I've been drinking. shut up.

10:15pm: Ok, folks, that's it for me. It's time for the sniffsnuff and lederhosen. I hope mine still fits.

12:53am: Just returned from the worst bar of all bars. Before we left, I told the girls I was with that the bar was terrible. It took 5 minutes for them to realize that I was right. So terrible. And the Paulaner Hefeweizen tastes like ashtrays.

12:58pm: After watching the end of Poker Superstars(why? I don't know!) I have turned my attention to the Heartland Poker Tour show on public access. I should stop watching it, because I want to scream "DONKEY!", "PLEBEIAN!, "WHORE!".

The "whore!" is my own addition because I wanted to say it. Apologized.

1:03am:

IPod--Check
Backwards fitted hat--check
Mirrored Oakleys--OH HELL YES.

Yeah, we've got one of the dudes on the Heartland Poker Tour pegged. Surprised?

1:08am: You thought Norman Chad and Lon Mckjaseljsdajklfjkldaran were bad? Not even close to what I've witnessed.

Dear ESPN,

During your coverage of the World Cup games, could you please, please put more pop-up graphics on the screen while the ball is in play? Oh, and make sure they don't pertain to the current game. At all. Either that or I could cover my eyes with my shirt, because that would have close to the same effect.

Also? More Eric Wynalda and Julie Foudy. Thanks.

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I suppose I should write about geeking it up at the bar with BloodyP, eh? I don't see why not.

I arrived a little bit early, as I would for any other blind, non pokering date. I had no idea what he looked like, sounded like over the phone, or even if he was a dude. For all I knew this was a set-up by Allen Funt, but he's dead so I quickly scratched him off the list.

I sat in view of the door just on the off-chance "he" was really a 300lb housewife with sagging breasts and an underbite rivaling Australopithecus africanus. Luckily, he wasn't. He was just a normal dude like me, except he has kids, a wife and a house he's trying to sell. Or do I have those reversed? Let me know, man. I know some people that know some people that could use some cheap, child labor.

We started the drinking night off early, he with a Captain/Coke in honor of Drizz--who unfortunately couldn't make it--and I with a Limon/Water. The plan was to drink a bit and geek out a hell-of-a lot by playing poker on our laptops using the bars free wi-fi, but I think we were both a tad nervous about breaking out the technology in public.

So, we drank and talked, then talked and drank some more, spied the talent, maybe even ate something at some point early in the night. I don't know, because everything gets drunkarific at around this point. By the time we'd had enough to drink where the poker jones overtook us and were forced to pull out the laptops, Eric's(he has a real name!) couldn't grab the connection, even though I was allowed to drop half my meager bankroll while he watched my less than stellar play. Thanks, sporadic wi-fi. Thanks a lot.

Somewhere around four Limon/Waters and a few Miller Lites deep into happy hour, a young lass aged 25 years came into the bar, alone, and promptly pulled out a book. Not that out of the ordinary, considering the time of the day and amount of light pouring through the 5 bazillion windows in the bar. It was early.

We both noticed her come in, said nothing while simultaneously taking pulls from our respective drinks, and jumped back into our conversation. Not that I remember what we were even talking about, though, but I'm sure it had something to do with bars, poker or, how do I say, "shitty" the north side of Minneapolis is. Hey, I wouldn't want to offend my ghetto readers, would I? No I would not.

Do you mind if I shorten this a bit? Didn't think so.

That night, almost no poker was played. Eric, The Thai girl from the bar and I played darts, listened to shitty music and drank all my roommate's beer after happy hour ended. He'd spent almost the whole night talking to her and smoking with her, then up and dropped her figuratively on my lap at the end of the night.

Ultimate Wingman.

The fact that the last thing I wanted was to suck face with this girl doesn't detract from the skill involved here. I know good wingman work when I see it, and this was goddamn good work.

The girl I'm dating right now might think differently, though.

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Why would PokerStars schedule the WBCOOP in the middle of the day on Father's Day? I'm tempted to have me some children of my own in the next week just so I'm able to play. If that's impossible, well, I'll have to celebrate by playing golf with my dad.

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Limbo:
noun: the state of being disregarded or forgotten
noun: an imaginary place for lost or neglected things

That's an disgustingly apt description of where my poker game resides right now.

Everything has been a struggle lately. I'll make a small deposit at a new site, say, $100, run it up to around $9,000 in a day, and then the next day I'll lose $8890.

Hey, I'm still technically up $10! Sure, those numbers might be slightly inflated, but math is hard for blonde people.

That scenario has happened at least 5 times in the last two months, so it's obvious that my game has a powdered donut eating Anna Nicole sized hole in it, and I don't even know where to begin the breakdown of why this happens so consistently. But it does.

And it's fucking frustrating.

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

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 8632016

Only 17 more days, huh? Has it already been a year since the last one? Yikes. Time...something something.

As far as my last excuse for a post goes, the only reason I posted it was to show that I'd had KK and AA a total of 22 times over the course of 2k hands, and they had yet to be cracked. You can't see that behind my fat head, though. Of course, the exact time that post hit the blogwaves, my AA was Sirfwalg'ed by someone calling my $900 million reraise with J9o.

Yes, I got stacked. Shut up.

[begin Speaker-esque ramble]

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I've been told that I don't look 31, which I like to hear. And if I had to give you one of my secrets, it's this; "Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize!" Yes, I realize that sounds inherently femme-y, especially so with the exclamation point and the upwards inflection with which I usually say it, so would you like to eat my ass now, or later?

But, looking this good(laugh, people, that's a joke) doesn't come without problems. For one, I usually have dark circles under my eyes from the time I get up in the morning until, well, let's just say until I get up the next morning. All the time, really. Sure, alcohol, caffeine and lack of sleep add to that, but they're there even if I don't drink the booze and do go to sleep at 8pm. And I'll give up sleep before I give up caffeine and beer. That wouldn't even be a tough choice.

A few days ago, I was laying on my bed, senior picture style--on my stomach, feet in the air, chin propped on hands--reading one of my many mens magazines. An old roommate used to tease by saying that they were gay porn because of all the shirtless dude pictures, but unlike Playboy, I really do read them for the articles. Well, that and to find out the diet secrets of Hollywood's leading men, like Ryan Reynolds, Ian Somerhalter, and the fat kid from Stand By Me.

So, I'm reading about grooming tips(and giggling, by the way) when I came across a small blurb touting the latest, greatest men's products, one of which was an "undereye revitilizer". It's supposed to soften(their words, not mine, damn it) dark circles and reduce puffiness. Hey, I have both dark circles I want softened and puffiness that's in dire need of reducing; what a coincidence! Why didn't anyone tell me a product such as this existed? I had no idea.

I hopped on the naked lady machine to see if I could find customer reviews for this product. I didn't find much in that respect, but what I did find was much more troubling than a dissatisfied metrosexual customer in Queens.

My initial google search opened up a veritable spider web of men's products that I had no idea existed. I found gels, lotions, creams, sauves, and this weird fucking thing called a 'serum'. What the hell? I thought serum was something in the blood? Am I mistaken?

10 hours of continous and exhausting google searching later, my quest came to a head when I realized that not only is there a shitload of "product" out there for men, it boggles me mind to think about how much of this stuff is designed with women in mind. And on top of that, the good stuff is absurdly expensive. I can't fathom--would rather not, really-- just how much money is spent by women daily on stuff that's supposed to shade, moisturize, cover-up, lift and seperate. Well, the last two I like to think about quite often, but that's a tangent I'd rather not get into here.

But, this just brings up reason #34223 that I'm happy to be a man, and simultaneously the #1 reason to that I'd like to bitch slap Kyan Douglas for bringing all this to the mainstream.

(oh god, after writing that, it proves just how mainstream it really is. I didn't even have to google his name to be sure he was the Grooming Guru. I already knew. Oh boy.)


In case you're wondering--and I know you are--I did buy some of that miracle eye serum/revitalizer/skin tightener stuffs. I'll let you know how it goes. I suppose, though, that if you see me without dark circles--those that make it look like I've been up all night drinking, when in fact, I've been doing just that--you'll already know the results.

[end Speaker]
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I've been coming(or going, depending on where I'm at when writing this) to the same bar for the past few years, mainly because of the friendly bartenders, cheap booze and definitely, most definitely the free wi-fi. Let's do a little math, shall we?

Laptop
+
2-4-1's
+
Internet Poker
----------------
=Irresistable to the ladies.

Then again, I suck at math. At any rate, that irresistablitude is magnified when you add another dude and another laptop into the mix. And that's exactly what I intend to do.

Next Wednesday, BloodyP and I will be attending a very lengthy happy hour at a fairly trendy bar/restaurant in the (Y)Uptown area of Minneapolis, with the intention of playing some online poker. At the bar. With other people around.

That so gay that I even had a homosexual call me "fag".