Monday, August 31, 2009


I paid month end bills, or 1st of the month bills, or however you wish to refer to them, and I hated it. The end of the month means a review of what has occurred, and it was ugly. This was one of those months that I will undoubtedly want to forget, as far as poker goes anyway.

I lost money. I was gone from home much of the time. I did not enjoy the poker rooms I visited. I basically had a rough time of it from a professional perspective. However, I did have a few high moments.

I spent a lot of time, when I was at home, with the family. We went swimming. My daughter started soccer up again. My son and I played golf a couple of times. My wife and I even got to hang out a few times, together, with just each other, and it was good.

We spent time on the brother and sister-in -laws boat out on the St. Johns River, at dusk, and it was peaceful. It was exactly what you would imagine the perfect sunset boat trip to be like. We had a few beer, and the wind was down. The sky at dusk was a blaze of red and gold. It was a very quiet evening with the silence broken by the occasional splash of whatever rather large creature was lurking in the dark creeks off the river.

I visited my cousin and his wife in Charlotte. I met some wonderful friends of theirs. We played two beautiful golf course, for free might I add, because my cousin is in the golf business. One of the courses we played is currently in the top 5 courses I have played in my lifetime. The list includes the back nine at Thendara Golf Club in Northern New York as well as the TPC at Sawgrass in my home city of Jacksonville. Well, it also now includes Irish Creek in Kannapolis, NC. Thanks cousin, that was a lot of fun.

I played in a 9-hole 2-man scramble with a buddy of mine. We stunk it up but drank nearly a twelve pack of beer. The hops were nice. I also played 18 holes with another friend. This is my buddy who made me sign my picture from the poker magazine I was in, and he carries it with him all of the time. I wonder if he is going to put me in a shallow grave or something? I hope not, Russ. He claims it brings him luck. I think he stole my mojo or something. He enjoys giving me a hard time, but I probably deserve it.

I also played golf with my sister and her husband, Dave. It was fun, and once again I played poorly. I'm pretty sure I am steadily getting worse and worse at golf. I don't like that much. I guess age is catching up with me. I do enjoy it though.

So, looking at the whole deal in retrospect, and including all of it, I guess it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was really a pretty good month. But, as it has to be, my decisions and actions at the poker table are what matter the most. I really do not want to lose sight of the good in my life though. It is far too easy to do.

I did something earlier today that I have not done in quite a while. I told a guy he had no chance to win. More specifically I told him he should just put all of his money in without looking because that was the only chance he had to win. He really did not play well, in my opinion, and he beat me in a big pot because he called my all-in with a 5-6, PREFLOP. I still did not need to give him a hard time. I just did it because I was pissed. I went Phil Hellmuth on the guy, well, sort of. I said that one thing and then he said "you can't be mad, you want me to call". I could not argue with that. So I shut up and brooded under the brim of my ballcap. I like to hide there sometimes.

I played again tonight, and won a little bit. More importantly I quit feeling sorry for myself and played some fine poker. I won some hands and lost some hands, but I felt very confident in my play. I saw something this evening that I found to be interesting. I think I've recognized a new fashion, or style, or something.

I saw these two guys standing there with only part of their shirt tucked into their pants. It was like a handful of shirt tucked into their pants above their right pockets. I have no idea if the side matters, but it looked different and rather cool. Go ahead and give it a try. Tuck it in and look in the mirror. It's bad-ass. My daughter says it's ridiculous, so maybe I am wrong. She's only 13 though so what does she know? It is probably a style, somewhere, and these guys brought it from there. Possibly they saw it on television or a movie. Who knows? Maybe they invented it. Either way, it looks cool.

Quenton Tarrentino did a heckuva a job with "Inglorious Basterds". Seriously good. It's not even the gore in the movie that is good, or shocking. It's the damn realism. That, and incredible performances by the actors involved. The SS Major, played by someone I don't know, was outstanding. I recommend this movie to anyone who liked Pulp Fiction, and that's nearly everybody. Enjoy.

The weather is getting cool again, and the NFL is getting cranked up for another long season. The Jaguars will probably be bad, and most of the radio personalities are picking them to only be .500 at best. Well, I don't see it like that, but I only watched one pre-season game. So, take this opinion for what it is worth, which is not a lot. I think they'll be better than last year, and barring big time injuries will be 9-7 or maybe even 10-6 and maybe even make a playoff run. What can I say? I'm an optimist at heart.

The Jags just have to finish ahead of those boys in Houston. No, not the Oilers, they went to Tennessee. I'm talking about the Texans. I have a friend from Houston, and Buzzy is going to buy me dinner when the jags end up with a better record than the Texans. It has got to be a lock.

Soon I'll be in Biloxi. The Gulf Coast Poker Championships are beginning this weekend. Maybe I'll win 100k. That would be the absolute nuts.

Codsey out.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


I haven't won a single significant hand of poker in about two and a half days. By significant I mean a pot of at least $200. I've won a number of smaller pots, but each time we have thrown in a pile of money I have come out holding the short end of the stick. These things are to be expected as they occur from time to time.

I believe it has to do with the law of large numbers, or some such concept. I think it means that in the short run any strange mathematical deviation from the normal percentages of things can and will happen. Sometimes it is good, and sometimes it is bad, but deviations from the norm happen every single day. These are regularly referred to as "streaks".

I'm somewhere in a bad streak right now. My only defense is to tighten up and wait for things to change. Even though I tighten up in my pre-flop decisions I think it is important to not tighten up too much in my post-flop play. Of course, you understand, this could all be a bunch of bullshit and I may have no idea at all about what I speak. That last sentence should tell you how bad I am running. I am now doubting my own babble.

I think it was Thomas Paine who wrote "These are the times that try men's souls". I would say that sums things up for me right now.

I can't even think of anything clever to write about.

I played some golf today. I played with my buddy Russ and another dude. It was a good time. We all hacked it around. The course is a rather new one in Jax. It's called Panther Creek. I have two words for it... GOAT RANCH. It's too bad too because it is a very difficult and good test of your game. However, they may have wanted to spend some money on the course this summer. I swear I do not think they did anything except water and mow. There are weeds everywhere. It is a shame.

They do have a beautiful sculpture of a panther. It is striking. It is large. The panther is probably fifteen feet long and ten feet tall. It looks lovely. I don't know what it is made of but I would guess it was expensive. Good move guys.

Good move on building a championship golf course and housing development just as the economy went bust. How could you have known? I guess you couldn't. Somehow gambling like that, on the economy and business, is not really gambling. It is investing. When I invest in the two cards I am holding it is not investing. It is gambling. That's bullshit. They made a bad play, and they got a bit unlucky. That's alright, just file chapter 11, or 14, or 21, or whatever bankruptcy plan you are going to use and walk the hell away.

On that note I will end with a quote from one of my favorite songs of all time. This is from the song "Wake Me Up Inside" by Evenescence....

Without a thought,
without a voice,
without a soul,
Don't let me die here,
there must be something more.
Bring me to Life

Wake me up,
bid my blood to run,
I can't wake up,
before I come undone,
save me.
Save me from the nothing I've become.

Bring me to Life....

Codsey out.

Monday, August 24, 2009


It's been a few days since I last checked in. Which is to say I haven't had much time to write. Which is to say I put it off a lot. Which is to say some things will never change. Which is to say I yam what I yam. Which is to say I am not perfect.

Friday was a decent day. I lost in the morning at the poker room. Which is to say I had a bad run of cards. Which is to say the donkeys made some hands. Which is to say poker and I did not see eye to eye at around 5 pm Friday evening.

But, poker is not the end all to beat all. Poker is but a small portion of my fun filled day. Which is to say I am married and with children. Which is to say my life consists of soccer games, sleepovers, and teen aged boys hanging around my house. Which is to say I am on the verge of grounding my oldest. Which is to say this is exactly what I wanted in life. I meant that last sentence. This is what it's all about.

It's odd that everyday life is so often looked down upon as though it were some monotonous mill job with a boss who hates smoke breaks. Everyday life should be viewed as a gift from God. Too often everyday life can be broken wide open by disasters of all sorts, both public and personal. Which is to say I rejoice in the boredom of it all. Which is to say I am content. Which is to say I like to have a few hops, in the evening following dinner, to celebrate my contentment.

Friday night was supposed to be an evening out for M and I. It was her birthday and I was looking forward to using this glorious day as an excuse to go out for a meal at someplace completely different. We did not make it. My daughter had her final test to be certified as a soccer referee. Which is to say she will see what it is like from the other side of things. Which is to say she has a rude awakening coming. Which is to say this is very good for her. Plus, she'll make some money as well. Which is to say dear old dad will be happy.

After I picked Myah up from her test, which I am proud to say she passed, I drove to a home poker game near my house. Which is to say I had to make some money after pissing it away earlier in the day. Which is to say I was grinding hard. Which is to say I was playing my "A" game. Which is to say they never had a chance. Which is to say I won. Which is to say I was content, again.

Saturday and Sunday were filled with family activities. Which is to say it was wonderful. On Saturday M and I went to Lowes. Which is to say I drove her to Lowes. Which is to say she is the woodworker of the house. Which is to say I am not. Which is to say she has her thing, and I have mine. Which is to say my thing involves hi- def television. Saturday was a good day.

Sunday was actually a bit different. Which is to say it was out of the ordinary. Which is to say it was fun and exciting. We had a Fantasy Football draft. The people in the league are all family members. Which is to say it is for fun. Which is to say I am looking forward to it. Which is to say I am the favorite to win. Which is to say I like to talk shit. Which is to say my family wants to beat me into submission. Seriously though, I'm going to win. My wife has a team for Christ's sake.

Today was fun at the poker room. I had a wonderful day. Which is to say I made enough money to gain personal satisfaction with the entire experience. Which is to say I played well. Which is to say I was on my game. I really want it to last. I'm going to figure out how to bottle my play, someday, and make a million dollars. Which is to say people would pay a lot of money to feel like I feel right now. Which is to say I am content.

Friday, August 21, 2009


Today is my wife's birthday. I won't say her age, but she ain't no spring chicken. She takes great care of herself, and looks as good today (in my humble opinion) as she did 25 years ago. It's sort of cool to reflect on the last 25 years and realize we have been together for far more than half of our lives. Emotionally we have both become better people during our time together, and for this I am thankful.

I still have a couple of emotional issues. After 25 years together I still have not overcome my narcissistic tendencies. You see, my dear friends, I forgot the date of my wife's birthday. Actually, I think this mishap was more due to a brain block rather than my being a narcissistic asshole. I, for some unknown reason, thought her birthday fell on August 27th, and not the 21st. Both of my kids birthdays are on the 27th of their birthday months, and I became a bit confused. That is my excuse. So, I was not the first one to wish her a happy birthday this AM. I hope she forgives me. Happy birthday M, from the bottom of my heart. You are a good woman and probably have deserved better the last 25 years. But, you got me, and if I am lucky you will never figure out your mistake.

I've been bluffing her for the past 25 years. Pretty wild, huh? A bluff has a much better chance of working if you can somehow convince yourself that you are not bluffing. If you can accomplish this feat then you will subconsciously give off vibes which say "I've got the goods, you'd better fold" and the bluff will succeed. I think that is what I have done for the past quarter century. I first convinced myself that my bs was real, and M bought it. Sorry sweetie. I hope you can smile.

Let's see, what hair-brained ideas have I come up with that I was sure would work? I was going to be a PGA Tour player. It was a good thought, except that I sucked. After I realized I sucked I also realized the golf business was all about working on weekends and holidays. A schedule like that is rough on a marriage. It did not work out as planned.

At one point I thought I could actually make a living betting on Greyhounds. Thankfully, that one did not cost me too much dough. Boy, was that a bad mistake.

I tried the office thing. I did it for almost 10 years. I worked pretty hard, and got my yearly raise and bonus. I have friends who are still with the company, and they are doing ok. It's funny though because they all complain about not having any money either. I did not like sitting behind a desk all day, and I knew I was not going to be upper level management, so to me it felt like a dead end job. It's not dead-end, of course, it's just life. You go to work, get paid enough to live on, put in your time, and at retirement time you hopefully have some money left to live on. If you're fortunate your savings can grow and you can be well off and able to enjoy your retirement to it's fullest.

I'm quite certain that the passing of my father about 10 years ago had a profound effect on the way I think about life. My dad worked his ass off, just like he was taught to, for his entire life. He then died at the young age of 52 from lung cancer. He never even smoked. Come on, that is bad luck.

His father, my grandpa, died of a heart attack when he was in his fifties. This was back in the 70's and bypass surgeries and stints were just not very common. He worked hard his entire life providing a comfortable living for his family. But, for what?

Some days I'm sure I'll be gone before I reach 60. That is not far off, which means I have very little time to gain the riches necessary for my family to never need to want for money again. Poker seems like a logical path to that end.

Some people say that poker players give nothing back to society. I disagree wholeheartedly. By playing we provide income for dealers, waitresses, bartenders, floor people, cashiers, security guards, middle management, upper management, and finally the owners. Poker players move money. We help to make the economy chug, like a train going up the mountain. We move money around and all of these people benefit from it. Let's also not forget about the tax revenue the state of Florida receives from the poker playing industry. Poker players make ALL of this possible.

All I try to do is pick up a little bit of the cash floating around the poker world each day. I'm sort of treading water with it all, however. I barely make enough to afford our lifestyle, which is not very opulent I might add. Eventually I will win a big enough tournament that it will make a real difference in our lives. That is the plan. Once I have that big chunk of cash I'll start figuring out a way to use it.

If I were to win that big chunk of cash, and I turned around and put a bunch of it on the line in a big stakes poker game, people would surely say I was being irresponsible. If, however, I took the chunk of cash and invested it in the stock market I believe people would say "good work". That's messed up. If you don't know why I think that is messed up than you have not been listening to the news for the past year.

Maybe I'm grasping at straws in an effort to convince myself I am not a screw up. It's not working. I was watching this year's WSOP telecast on ESPN, and I see that a Canadian guy by the name of Mueller had won two bracelets and cashed for almost a million dollars during the series. I mention this only because I used to play limit hold em with this same guy, in Las Vegas, at the Mirage, back in 2004 and 2005. He is a good player, and I'm sure he has improved over the past 5 years, but I never thought he was a world beater. Now, he's loaded.

I'm happy for him. I'm envious, and a little bitter at the same time. Why can't that be me? It could have easily been me. Maybe it will never be me. If it is never me, never my turn, then that is alright too. I'm happy now. I love my wife, I have two wonderful children, and a bunch of very good friends. If I were to get hit by a bus today I would die feeling happy and content in the knowledge that the people I care most about love me and believe in me.

I just wish I hadn't messed up M's birthday. God, I must be stupid. I'm buying her a drill for her birthday. I know, I know, it sounds like Peter (from Family Guy) buying his wife a bowling ball, but it's not like that at all. M likes to work with wood, and she needs a drill that has a power cord. She's done with anything battery operated as they do not perform well as they age. I think I'll take her out this evening as well. Although, there is a fantastic poker game being put together right now for this evening.... hmmmmm.... I should probably play in it. This is just one more decision that will need to be made. I hope I choose wisely.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009


I hustled out the door and made a dash for the car. I was parked fairly close to the front door, but it was quite fitting that it was raining as I headed home. At least I wouldn't get drenched, but I felt like I probably deserved to. I had lost today, and did not make very much yesterday. I had also played in a tournament yesterday and had finished 5th. That sounds lovely unless you realize they paid only three spots. Still, even with all of this, and all of the rain, and the fact that my kids are still on summer break, and that my spouse despises me (sometimes), I still feel pretty good.

You see, I had played well since I had returned from my recent road trip. I think the reason for my feeling good must be because of HOW I played. It could not be because of how much I won, that much is certain. I haven't won shit in like over a week. I'm playing well, and I am confident that things will turn.

My upbeat feeling is probably also related to my being back home. Staying out on the road for longer than a few days gets a bit taxing on the familial relationships. Being home seems to help out more than just a little bit.

At least it's not raining that hard. I hop in the car and turn left, out of the parking lot, and start for the house. My windshield wipers really suck. They are streaking like a dirty newborn and I can't see much at all. I think I may need to change these bad boys out. The lady in the hybrid toyota in front of me needs to drive faster than 35 mph, this much I am sure.

At least with it raining I can put off mowing the lawn for one more day. It is looking ragged since it has not been mowed for almost two weeks. Michelle actually put down some sod while I was gone. Can you believe that? She is a good wife. She is a good mom. She is pretty and successful. Why, you may saying to yourself, is she with me? I have no clue, but I'm gonna roll with it and see what happens.

I wonder if the state of Florida is going to allow larger buy-ins for their poker games soon? If you don't know the max buy-in right now is $100. I need them to increase it soon. I don't want to HAVE to travel to make money. I still may WANT to travel once in a while, but I'd rather spend the majority of my time at home, with my family.

The rain has stopped. I've passed the slow woman. She was on her cell phone. Why wouldn't she be? I mean really, she looked like she could talk someones ear completely off their head. Blah blah blah blah, on and on and on.

I read a joke today. It goes like this:

I was walking through the cemetery this morning and saw a guy
crouching down behind a tombstone.

I said "morning."

He said, "No, just taking a shit."

That, my good friends, is funny stuff. Thank you, Laudadio, for sending me that joke. See, it's a pun, or something. Read it again if you did not find it funny, because you're not getting it. See, morning, mourning, it sounds the same, but has two distinct meanings. As does kneeling behind a tombstone. One could be taking a dump or in mourning. See? It's not just vulgarity, it's comedy.

Which reminds me of something else. I was talking to a waitress and she said she thought the movie "Funny People" was stupid and well, not funny. She doesn't get it. I am disappointed. I recommend this movie if you like to laugh at the funny shit that is right in front of your face. Even if you find out you are dying of cancer, the shit in front of your face is STILL FUNNY.

Laughing has to be better than crying. I laughed a lot today, and I liked it.

Monday, August 17, 2009


I've been a bit delinquent in keeping up with my daily schedule. In my own defense I have to add that I did not have an internet connection for much of the past few days. That, and the fact that I have been feeling lazy as hell, has added to my falling behind schedule. Nothing of interest regarding poker has happened at all. I haven't played since last Thursday, and it felt good to be away from the game for even a few days.

I had a great time visiting my cousin, Daryl, and his lovely wife Phaedra. She is a good friend of mine, and my cousin could have done a lot worse in picking a bride. They have made friends with some really cool neighbors, and I got to meet most of them over the weekend. Would you believe I saw a woman smoke a cigarette with her toes? Wild group up there in North Carolina.

I also played golf on what is now one of my favorite courses in the world. It's called Irish Creek, and it is located in Kannapolis, NC. Kannapolis is where Dale Earnhardt lived and learned to drive a car. The back roads wind throughout the countryside as they pass from small town to small town. The shoulders of the roads are non existent and I can imagine you would have to be a good driver or learn to drive very slowly on these tricky roads. My cousin drives fine, but needless to say he ain't no Dale E and I was wishing he would slow down. Somehow we made it to the golf course.

Irish Creek is enjoyable because it is in pristine condition. It is a healthy course with rich, full grass everywhere. The greens are smooth and true. The sand traps, or bunkers, are immaculate with firm, light sand. The rough is tricky and gets more difficult the further from the fairway you stray.

Irish Creek's greatest attribute is the fact that it is not a housing development with a golf course. It is a golf course first. There are no homes lining the fairways. You could very easily walk this golf course if need be.

The landscape is very unlike Florida. I come from the land of palm trees and beaches. North Carolina has pine trees and extreme changes in elevation. I love it. I have concluded I am more of a mountain man rather than a beach guy. I feel much better amongst the hills and mountains.

I was thinking about how I love the mountains as I was driving east on interstate 40 between Memphis, Tn. and Statesville, NC. I tried to make sense of the last few days of poker as I drove away from the Mississippi River and towards the Smokey Mountains of Eastern Tennessee. I had not performed well and I was feeling perplexed and confused as to what had occurred.

I felt like I didn't fare as well as I could have while I was in Tunica, Ms. because of two basic reasons. First off, I was card dead. I did not get very many really strong starting hands that I could use to narrow the field and play against one or two other players. Because of this I tended to get impatient as the week wore on. Even so things still were working as planned.

It's almost comical to watch the good players in the game. They are never sure what to make of my style of play. They always start off by trying to push me around with their big bets and aggressive play. I let them for a while, but I'm always searching for an opening to exploit their aggressiveness. I'm sure their first thought is that I am a weak player. Their attitude changes after I have doubled my stack at the expense of their mighty pile of chips.

The thinking players of the group in Tunica did not take long to adjust. They started avoiding me altogether when I entered the pot. Of course, I was able to use this against them as I began to turn up the 'steal' button and take down a couple of nice pots with big pre-flop re-raises. They were giving me too much credit, and I used their adjustments to exploit the situation. Everything was going as planned and I was making good money.

So, what happened?

Well, I think I went on tilt. No, I take that back. I'm sure I went on tilt. The games slowed to a crawl as I folded, folded, and folded some more. I decided to change up my style and see if I could make things happen. I had forgotten my own golden rule which states emphatically "The Fish Do Not Fold, EVER". I started bluffing more often. Sure enough, just as had happened so often in the past, it caught up with me and they took many chips from my stacks.

I wish I could explain what happens to me when I go on tilt. It's not a quantitative thing. If it were then I think I could mathematically figure out how to stop it before it has drained me of a few hundred dollars. I can't figure it out though, not for the life of me. Very often it is the smallest thing that puts me over the edge. It is very discouraging.

There is hope. There has to be hope. It is beginning to look like the only way to stave off the evil tilt monster is to fight back with prescription medication. I'm pretty sure that the tilt I experience at the poker table is due to a chemical imbalance in my brain. It is the same imbalance that causes me to become irritated or angry at the smallest of issues.

This morning, for instance, I became extremely agitated because I could not log into my online banking account. Their servers were down. Frustrating for sure, but nothing to get too worked up over. I did get worked up though, and it bothered me that something so trivial could, well, bother me. How weak am I? Why cannot I not control my feelings? This is exactly the kind of emotion that can spell RUIN for a poker player.

Recognizing TILT after the fact is fine. In fact, I'm sure that 95% of the poker players never even realize they can go on TILT. They either don't realize it happens, or they don't admit it happens. I need to hold TILT at bay while I am playing. I think this is going to require a trip to a doctor.

Is my tilt cause by anger management issues? Maybe. Is it caused by high anxiety? Maybe. Is my tilt brought on by some deep seeded childhood memory that has been suppressed and is trying to fight it's way out of the back parts of my brain? I don't know cause if it were than I wouldn't remember it any way, right? Maybe I should learn transcendental meditation.

One thing I know for sure is that I am very happy to be home again. I've been gone for too long. I wish I could have brought home a sack of money. But, I failed. I failed. I went on TILT and I failed.

Even though I am portraying this week of doom and gloom I still won money. I made a profit for the two weeks I was gone. The apathetic poker player wins money when he can remain apathetic. The emotional poker player gets his ass kicked when his emotions affect his decision making process. I want to be able to be numb at the table, devoid of all emotion. Mr. Spock would have been a ridiculously good poker player.

I wonder if Mr. Spock used xanax?

Friday, August 14, 2009

Office Space

I had an interesting morning. Since I had to wait until noon for the poker room to open, and any idle time might mean unbridled eating, I decided to jump on Facebook. It's always a good time to see what pictures my friends have posted, or to look at some quizzes people have taken. Fun time for all involved. While on there I started chatting with a friend of mine who thought I should read a book by Tucker Max. I told her I would definitely check it out.

Since it was only 9:30 am or so I decided a trip to the bookstore would be the perfect excuse for not going to work out. See, since I've started my "new lifestyle" diet it has been extremely difficult to actually work out. It's very easy to say you're committing to it, but very difficult to really do it. So, this bookstore trip fits very nicely into my morning. My supportive spouse has told me she will get up with me in the morning, before she gets ready for work, to go to the gym. That's pretty darn special, so, I hope that problem is solved. She's a good woman who takes much better care of me than I deserve. I know this, and I appreciate it very much. But, onto my interesting morning.

I drove to Barnes and Noble, which is normally about 20 minutes from my home. This morning took a bit longer though since IT HAS BEEN RAINING HERE FOR 24 STRAIGHT HOURS! No problems though, not in any hurry, no need to be impatient. Just relax and drive to the bookstore. Of course, once I arrive there are no parking spaces anywhere near the door. I mean, come on, is everybody going to Barnes and Noble when it rains. Don't you people have jobs?

I walk inside, and I see there are an awful lot of older folks, and I start to think maybe I'm the weird one here. But, no matter, cause I really don't care. So, I start to look for this book by the author, since I have no rememberance of the title. I'm searching along, A,B,C, move faster the M's are way further up, up to the M's, and nope, can't find his name. Great, now I have to go talk to the guy behind the counter, and he always walks away from me whenever I approach (I like Barnes and Noble).

Before I can go to him I start to think I could use my wife's LIBRARY CARD to get the book for FREE! Genius!!! Probably save myself twenty bucks! I walk outside while calling Michelle, she says come on to her work and get the card, and then the indecision sets in. Should I see if they have it here so I don't have to stop if the library doesn't have it? I mean, I'm here, why not see if they have it and what it costs? (turn around and head back in). Halfway back I start to think about the guy behind the counter, and all the older folks inside, and how wet I'm getting, and how ridiculous I'll look walking back in there pretty wet, and then I say screw it (turn around head back to car).

Now I'm really wet. my hair is wet, my jacket is wet, but my shirt is dry. See? Not so bad, just take off the jacket and let's get that free book. I drive to Michelle's workplace, and the roads suck, really bad. If this is any indication of this years hurricane season then I want NONE of it. People refuse to drive any faster than 25 miles an hour when it rains here. They would absolutely dry up and die during an upstate new york winter. IT"S RAINING! THAT"S ALL! GO JACKASS!

But no, I'm cool, this is not a bother, cause I'm in no hurry whatsoever. Just relax and pay attention in case some dumb ass decides to pull out in front of you. Turn right on sunbeam road, and head past the old landfill. The city filled it in when it was too full of trash, the likes of which I dare not think of, and then sold the land to someone who decided it was a great place for a golf course. Thanks, but no. I think I'll restrict my cancer causing activities to using microwave ovens and taking in copius amount of Splenda. Maybe I'll risk it one day because they say it's the highest point in Duval County and that you can see clear to downtown.

I believe I was still thinking about the landfill golf course, and clearly not paying attention for retarded motorists, because I drove right by the street Michelle works on. I deserve a little slack though because it's kind of hidden if you're not looking for it, but being there 20 times should make up for that, you would think anyway. So, drive over the railroad tracks, and a train better not be coming because I thought I heard a whistle earlier. If I get stuck on the other side of these tracks, waiting on a train, that I had no reason to wait on, I would be pist. The trains in this part of town go about 30 mph, and take FOREVER to pass. But, there isn't one and I complete the U-turn with no trouble whatsoever. No worries here, it's all good. Yes, I am a moron, but I want that book, and for free.

I call Michelle, and I park right in front of the building, illegally, and hop out of the car to wait for her. It's still pouring, and I duck under the facade to stay dry, but at least she can stay dry too. She comes out and wants me to come upstairs to see the new floor her team has moved into. They went from the first floor to the second, and since she has been telling me every single, solitary, headsplitting detail about this move, I figure I'd better head upstairs, and act like if I miss out on it I would never be able to live with myself. See, sensitivity lives. It's only taken me 19 years of marriage to learn tricks like these. I never said I was smart.

As I follow her upstairs I notice an odd smell, and we walk by a man who is looking at her breasts, no worries though cause I think this guy carries with him the smell. He smelled like a perfect blend of body odor and cigarette smoke, and oh yes, wet dog. See, he was heading outside to have probably his 5th smoke of the morning. Wonderful..

I look at her new floor, and listen to her complain about the space between chairs that her team must navigate as they walk down the aisles. She's right, and she's the manager, and she is frustrated because the placement of the workstations is made at a much higher level. It looks like they are screwing her department by cramming them into too small a space just so an executive can take a trip to Hawaii this Christmas. I don't say all that though, because her workmates are nearby, and no sense giving them ammunition to use in the bitch fest that is Corporate America.

I do notice that her team is mostly African American. I don't even know if that is the correct term any longer, I really don't. I'm sure someone will fill me in, but I usually call people with black skin, black people. It's not a put down, at least not to me. So anyway, her team is mostly made up of black people. This makes me think this is a low paying job. I guess America has a ways to go yet. My wife is a woman, thankfully for me, and she's the manager, so this department gets no money. Awesome, I love Corporate America!

Alright, I kiss her goodbye, and take the library card to find my book. Here is where the first conundrum takes place, and luckily, it all worked out great. Here's what happened. As I'm driving to the library I realize that Lubi's is on the way. For those of you not from Jacksonville, and probably then unfamiliar with Lubi's, it a local fast food restaurant. They have two locations in the city, and one of them is right up here on the right. Lubi's makes a Lubi sub. It's loose, ground beef in some kind of seasonings, with onions, peppers, mushrooms, sour cream, and some sort of sauce all on a soft bun sub roll. OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, they are really good.

I can't stop there though, it's too early for lunch. It's like almost 11, but no, Lubi's are the devil in disguise. I drive on by. Besides there are plenty of places to get good food before I get home, even after I get this damn book. This book had better be good too, or I am not going to be happy. It's still raining. I wish it would stop.

I get to the library, and when I walk in I realize I'm going to have to have help. Shit! The computer says I need a password. Damnit, has anyone ever heard of a card freakin catalog? As I walk towards the ladies at the counter one of them looks up and I can tell by the look on her face, remember I play poker, the discussion with her deskmate, that I am interrupting, is far more important than anything I could possibly need to talk to her about.

"Hi!" I say brightly.

"May I help you?" Her voice feigns helpfulness, but her look is boring a hole through my forehead.

"How do I look up a book, by author?"

"That computer." As she points to where I just was.

"It says I need a password". Duh. Don't you work here. Jesus Christ..

"Not the middle one, the one on the right side." Her tone is now calling me a moron. Of course, I should have known it wasn't the middle computer. How stupid of me. Here's a hundred dollars, sorry for bothering you.

"Oh, my mistake, thanks for your help." I smile and walk away.

I think I hate people. So, I look it up, and sure enough, it's checked out. So, I can either reserve it or just go back to Barnes and Noble. This place sucks, so, I'M OUTTA HERE. I give them a farewell "Thanks soooo much for your help." I'm sure the sarcasm coming from my mouth hit her right in the gullett. Good. Another government employee spending my money not doing a damn thing at her job. She's at the front desk for god's sake! Have some people skills for just one minute, that's all I ask.

It's still raining. This really stinks. Back in the car now, heading south towards the bookstore. I pass by MacDonalds, Wendys, Long John Silver's (pretty bad, but I like fish), and I manage to stop at none of them. Actually, the food is not really an issue. I will pass by all of these again, not including Long John's, plus many other wonderful varieties of crappy food shops after the bookstore but before I get home. No worries, your master will be fed.

Back at the bookstore I walk right up to the guy behind the counter and meaningfully ask him to look up a book for me. He says no problem, and then walks me to where it is located. I guess that's the difference right there between private and public services. Amen to Capitalism. I'm no longer concerned with racism, or sexism, or any other ism. I am happy to have my book. I'm out 17 bucks, but I feel good again.

I convince myself, as I drive the rest of the way home, that if I keep passing up restaurants it may stop raining before I arrive. It never does, and as I pass the last one, a Wendy's, I realize that I have food at my house. When I get home I make a sandwich, and all is right with the world again.

For what it's worth the book looks interesting, and I think I'll enjoy it. But, what made me want to jot this down was I was thinking that maybe a person could train themselves to think of reasons NOT to eat. Just convince yourself to not eat the crap that is forced on you every 2/10ths of a mile. Make a sandwich, save some cash, lose some weight, and save a rain forest. LOL... Listen to me, the activist.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009


Conversation heard at the poker table this afternoon:

Dealer: Ya know, you probably would have won that hand if you weren't on the phone.

Young guy: Yup, prolly right. Work follows me everywhere.

Dealer: My wife can play three tables of poker at one time on the internet.

Old guy: Women are far more capable at doing two things at once than most men are.

---no one says anything for a second. My chance to add my two cents arrives.-----

Me: My wife can have sex and watch t.v. at the same time.

---lot's of laughs----

Dealer: Are you there?

---more laughs---

Me: sometimes....

---laughter ensues.----

Good stuff. It was just a joke... come on.


I really don't have the energy, desire, or creativity to really write something that is not just a laundry list of what happened today. Rather than any of us suffering I'll just say that nothing has changed. My life has become an exercise in repetition as I drive from the hotel to the poker room, and back again, a few times each day.

It is the same long walk from the room to the car. It's the same winding drive across flat land just waiting for the Mississippi River to flood it. It's the same anxiety of looking for a parking space in the garage of the casino. It's the same people at the poker tables, for the most part.

I did meet an interesting guy this evening. He was young, maybe all of thirty years. He was very southern, and he was doing the thing where he called everybody a bastard or a son of a bitch. He was loud and obnoxious. Finally it hit me. He was being the guys from Texas, on the show Seinfeld, who were meeting with George Costanza pertaining to inter-league play between the Yankees and the Astros. He was funny. Most everyone else was boring.

Well, except one other old timer. He had a thick southern accent. He definitely was lacking something in the tooth department. He had what a friend of mine calls "summer teeth". You see "some are teeth and some are not". Each time this old dude would win a pot from someone he would begin verbally jabbing at them. He was really picking on the guy to my right. Loudmouth was on my left. Finally, I asked him why he was tormenting this nice man. He had no answer. After that he was nice to everyone, especially me. Strange guy, that one.

Everything else is the same. The drive back is the same. The elevator is still the same. You have to insert your room key in order to be able to go up to your floor from the first floor. It is a safety deal. The only problem is the damn things never work and then your elevator just goes to where ever it wants. It is a large pain in the butt.

The room is the same. It's the same crappy 12 channels on the t.v. There are three ESPN channels, they are all alike. I watch a lot of Univision because at least it's something new. I don't understand any of the shows, but apparently women in Mexico are all incredibly gorgeous and not one of them has blond hair.

The buffet is the same. I've given up on it. I eat salads from the snack bar. I think the food in the buffet is tainted. I felt horrible for two days following a meal at that damn buffet. It's almost too much to sit in the buffet and have to watch the other people inhale food while dining in the buffet. There is so much wasted food that I cringe to consider it.

The poker was the same. I am officially card dead. This means that I am not giving much away because I am folding far more hands than could possibly be considered enjoyable. I can't even think of an interesting hand to discuss. It's all just bleh. Meh.

I cannot wait for this week to be over so I can get home to the family. I miss them very much. I can only hope they feel the same.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


Today was one of those days that I just have to try and describe. I should have known it was going to be a bit different when I awoke this morning and strolled in the general direction of the elevators at the Horseshoe Hotel. This walk is not as it appears when one first begins the trek. You are led through a maze of corridors all appearing the same as the one before. The only hope one would have of finding the elevators at all is the continuous signs stating which direction to go. I can only imagine how many elderly people were lost over the years wandering the corridors of this ancient hotel. Not really lost, as in gone, but lost as in wandering around and becoming so pissed that they let the desk clerk hear about once they finally make there way downstairs.

It has to be one of the oddest designs of a building that I have ever seen. My room, of course, since I was paying the lowly poker rate, was located at the farthest point possible from the elevators. It wasn't an issue since I like to walk, and I need to walk. The issue was with no internet connection at the Starbucks located in the lobby. I had to change hotels. So, I cancelled at the Horseshoe and got a reservation at Terrace Hotel, which is part of Harrah's Tunica. The price is lower, and they have wi-fi in the rooms. The Terrace Hotel is only 3 minutes from the Horseshoe poker room. Slam dunk all the way around.

Before going over there I may as well get a bite to eat and maybe play a bot of poker. Luckily they were getting ready to start up a game right at that very moment. There was no other poker being played that morning. Our game was it for about the next 2 hours.

The make up of the group we started out with was that of a bunch of tight-passive individuals. I hadn't played at a table with this passive of a group in a very long time. I changed gears and picked up the pace, raising and re-raising many hands. I built a nice stack and had won a few hundred after about 5 hours. I enjoy watching people switch tables when I am winning. Does that make me sadistic?

After about 5 hours of play I decided to check into the new room. This room is not as plush as the one I had at the Horseshoe, but I don't really need plush. I need it to be close to the poker room, I need clean bedsheets, a good shower, an adequate television, and a wireless connection to the internet. Check, check, check, and check. I also took a short afternoon nap. I was feeling pretty good when I awoke. It was time to play some more cards.

I drove the three miles back to the poker room for my second session of the day. It was around six when I sat down at the same table from earlier that morning. I played for about thirty minutes. I'm not kidding. I lost twice with pocket aces. That in itself is not too bad. I lost way too much the second time I had them, and I knew I was on tilt. That was when I did something that I am very proud of. I got up and went back to the room.

I've been down this road too often in the past to not try to stop it. Plus, I was hating poker like you would not believe. I was seething.

I drove back to the hotel, went inside, and sat in front of the t.v. and stewed for a while. I thought about the hands, and realized I had made a couple of errors. I went on the internet. I chatted with some friends, and posted some of my bullshit. I had a nice chat with M, and I slowly started to feel better.

Eventually I determined that my pockets weren't going to get full by sitting on my ass watching Family Guy, so I drove back to the casino for my third stay at the tables. I walked into the poker room and there were no floor people anywhere to be found. I thought this strange, but figured they were up to something.

There was a seat available at one of the tables and I sat down. The game was pretty good and these guys were gambling it up. But, no one was joking around with anyone else. It was very quiet. Well, this would not do.

I started it innocently enough by asking one of the dealers if her middle name was Lisa. She laughed along with me, and a few others laughed as well, and I thought she had understood the joke. She then asked me "why?"

Oh jeez. You see her first name is Mona. I guess no one had ever made that connection before? I don't know. It seems a logical sequence for one's brain to make. "Oh, her name is Mona, that's strange, I wonder if her middle name is Lisa?". Interestingly enough, that was all the encouragement these guys needed as they suddenly became very talkative.

The table was fun, and the chips were flying. I was managing to pick off my fare share of the coin as it was flung around the table when the funniest moment of the night happened. Let me see if I can set this up right.

A 28 year old lawyer was sitting to my immediate left. He had his girlfriend with him. She was Russian, and also a lawyer. She was ridiculously hot, but that has nothing to do with this story other than to point out that she was distracting. Anyhow, we were chatting away when we quieted down a bit because the guy to his left was in the play of the current hand.

The guy, to the left of the lawyer, was becoming drunk, playing way too many hands, and losing money rather quickly. I stopped talking because I was sure there was going to be more carnage. The drunk guy was in the hand against only one other player. The other player was a middle aged Asian man. He had on a polo golf shirt and looked like a regular, Asian guy.

The Asian guy made a big bet on the flop. Drunk guy called his bet. Asian guy made another big bet on the turn, and it was even big enough to force drunk guy to be all-in should he call. Drunk guy thought about it for 3 seconds and said "call" very quietly. The dealer, Mona, even asked him with a surprised look on her face if he said call. "Yes, call" he repeated.

Mona rolled over an 8 for the river card. Asian guy showed a busted king high flush draw. Uh-oh, not good. Drunk guy shows a busted straight draw, but he had paired the eight with the one in his hand. Drunk guy was now raking in a nice pot. The Asian guy stood up and said, rather loudly "How come he call?!?!?"

He kept repeating this over and over, with a strong Chinese accent. "How come he caw? How come he caw?". I was watching him and started chuckling because he just kept saying it directly at one of the guys across the table from him. I assumed it was the other Asian guy at that end of the table who he was so vehemently asking how in the hell that drunk ass could make a call like that.

I leaned over to take a look at and saw that Asian guy was not talking to the other Asian guy. Asian guy was yelling at some regular joe, who had a little thin beard and mustache, and also had a look on his face as if to say "Why is this man yelling at me?"

I lost it. Well, I wasn't alone. The lawyers lost it too. The redneck in seat 10 lost it. The dealer never cracked a smile. She is a professional. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. After Asian guy got off one of his "How come he caw?" I replied "He had a straight draw and wanted to gamble! Plus, he's hooked in this game, he can't get even by folding!"

I certainly did not want drunk guy thinking anyone at all would have played the hand any differently. If he wanted to get even he was going to have to gamble. I did not want Asian guy saying anything to get drunk guy mad and sober. Asian guy left without buying back in.

I and the lawyer guy laughed for quite a while about that entire scene. The white guy across the table from Asian guy looked nervous as hell when Asian guy was losing his mind. For the next hour or so that table was as wild as they come. There was raising every hand. I was able to win more than I lost and made a nice profit for the day.

Drunk guy went broke. There may be a lesson there, somewhere. Crazy day.

Monday, August 10, 2009


I’m now stationed at The Horseshoe casino in Tunica, Ms. I had spent the last two nights staying at America’s Best Value Inn. To me nothing says quality like the way saying “America’s Best Value Inn” rolls off the tongue.

“Hey, how long you in town?” the young woman asked me. It was clear she was enthralled with my playing poker for a living. I had to chuckle to myself at this development, knowing full well an evening with her would surely kill me.

“About a week, or so, I’ll see how things go.” I answered confidently. She had long, blond hair. He eyes were the color of a NY Jets jersey. She was being obvious in her attempt to attract my gaze.

“Oh, cool, where are you staying?” She asked me with her row of very white teeth shining behind her sinful smile.

“America’ Best Value Inn”. I said without thinking. There was a silence at the poker table. I distinctly remember hearing a cricket chirp out by the slot machines. Finally, almost thankfully, an old man at the other end of the table chuckled aloud and muttered “real smooth sonny”.

She got a cell phone call and stepped away from the table. I just sat there saying over and over “America’s Best Value Inn???”

She returned a few minutes late, gathered her chips, and said something about meeting her grandfather for dinner. As she walked away she leaned over and whispered in my ear “ya know, before that whole America’s Best Value Inn deal I was going to have dinner with my father.

She sort of flipped her hair as she strolled away leaving me with the lasting image of her petite, round, derriere bouncing away from me. My only hope is that I run into the founder of America’s Best Value Inn and have the opportunity to knock him the hell out.

Who names their hotel chain something that sounds like a monkey humping a football? Why does it have to be America’s Best? Is that supposed to inspire our patriotic subconscious into convincing us to stay there? If I open a chain of hotels and call it World’s Best Value Inn will that automatically make it a better value then his chain? What is wrong with calling it “The Best Value Inn”? That rolls off the tongue in a much smoother fashion.

As I said earlier I’m now staying here, at the Horseshoe. Of course, I now have no wifi unless I stroll down to the Starbuck’s on the first floor. That whole thing about the young woman, with the green eyes, and blond hair, well, that was made up. I wish it happened though, and maybe in my mind it did. Why not? Don’t cost nothing.

I lost this afternoon at the tables. I’m sort of surprised, really. I’m playing well. I’m making good reads, and I’m making moves at the right time. I’ve been unfortunate in a couple of situations. One guy hit a three outer, and another guy hit a six outer, and both times they took a nice chunk of my pile of chips.

I found out this morning that my uncle had suffered a heart attack. I pray that he recovers. He is stable and in the hospital. I’ve heard they are going to put a stint in his artery. He is in his mid fifties and in wonderful physical shape. His heart condition is in his genes, and therefore in mine as well.

Uncle Jeff is probably the single most influential male, other than my father, to have an impact on my life as I grew through my adolescent and teen age years. He is funny, witty, laughs a most things, athletic, and the best golfer I knew when I was a boy. He’s hardworking and a great husband and father. I’ve seen the relationship and rapport he has with his family, and it appears ideal. God let him be alright, please.

I should get back to the tables.

….Later that same evening…..

I’m sure I hate myself. This entire day, while not quite a disaster, was pretty darn bad. This past evening I played like a chump from off the street enjoying his first time playing “real” poker. I made more bad decisions than George Dubya at a college frat party.

I missed a couple of signals as I blindly bluffed off about three bills just about twenty minutes ago. I’m in the room now, and it is the middle of the night. I am unable to connect to the interweb machine at this hotel, and all I can do is write. The rumor of being able to connect at Starbucks is just that, a rumor. I feel sick to my stomach following this evening's performance at the poker tables.

I was cocky tonight. I deserved to lose. The people I was playing against were not world beaters. I committed entirely too much money when it should have been obvious the guy was not going to fold. He was sick of folding, and he had a flush. It did not matter to him that he had a nine-high flush, and that the board had paired when the river card was dealt. He hesitated about 3 seconds before calling my final raise.

He had been betting the whole hand. Once the river hit, he bet small, like he had a hand, but not a really strong hand. So, I took this to mean he might fold if I put enough heat on his ass.

So wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!

I deserved to be punished when I do stupid things such as donking off my money to my opponents. If you’re not familiar with the term “donking” it refers basically handing your money over because you play poker like a donkey. A donkey in poker circles is a horrible player, a fish, or a sucker.

I feel like a donkey, and now I’m going to change hotels again. I’m moving to Harrah’s, up the street from the Horseshoe, because they allegedly have a wi-fi connection. We shall see.

After this evening of poker I feel like Paddy Harrington probably felt while battling Tiger down the stretch in this weekend’s golf tournament, completely inadequate and unskilled for the task.

I hope tomorrow is a better day, in all regards. I hope my uncle is feels better.

Saturday, August 08, 2009


I made a little bit of money in Biloxi. The weather was wonderful. It was sunny, and the resort pool was loaded with lovely ladies. They were all feverishly tanning themselves, trying to reach that perfect crispness. Unfortunately, this is not reason enough to remain in this town.

I was unable to secure what I consider to be affordable lodging. The Beau Rivage had no rooms for the weekend, and the hotels in the area were all charging over a hundred bucks a night. I could understand paying a hundred plus a night at the Beau. The amenities are outstanding. I'm not paying that much at the Motel 6 down the street, especially when I can hop in the car and drive to Tunica, Ms.

Tunica is a rural area, in north western Ms. It sits right on the Mississippi River, and is about 35 miles south of Memphis, Tn. I decided it looked like it was about 5 hours directly north of Biloxi. No problem. Decision made.

The drive took me up route 49, north through Hattiesburg and Jackson, and then onto interstate 55, north towards Memphis. Route 49 was a four lane road, but it was not an interstate. It had some stoplights, and it also had other roads coming in from the sides. The speed limit varied, but it was mostly 65 mph. I'm not sure if you've driven on a road such as this, but 65 is a bit speedy noting how close some people like to cut it when they enter a road from one of its' tributaries. It was dangerous driving.

As I approached Hattiesburg I began to notice that I did not see a single white person. I swear this is true. I stopped for gas. There are no white people anywhere. This may be the blackest city on earth, well, not counting the cities in Africa, of course.

I passed by Southern Miss University. It looked like a very large high school. It looked very institutional. It appeared cold and it looked like it would not be a fun place to study. You realize, I hope, that this opinion was formed in the 30 seconds it took to roll past the place. So, take it with a grain of salt.

I also noted the large amount of mom and pop garages, fruit and vegetable stands, antiques stands, and even a large shoe store. The shoe store was named, get this, I swear I can't make this stuff up, it was named "The Watermelon Patch". There were about twenty cars outside of this store called the Watermelon Patch which was located in rural, black, central Mississippi.

With a store called the Watermelon Patch, could it be strange to expect to see a store that sells Rebel Flags right next door? You know, this store sells those flags affectionately referred to as the "Stars and Bars". I didn't see any protesters. I guess they have figured out how to all just get along.

I arrived in Tunica six and a half hours after my start. The Horseshoe casino is where I play most of my poker while in this town. They have had a poker room since before the big boom of 2003. I used to come here back when I played limit poker. The staff is great, the rooms are cheap, the food is free, the drinks are free, and it's just a great place to be a poker player. I actually feel wanted when I visit The Horseshoe.

I sat down to play, and the game was as I expected. There was a mixture of players, but the play was dominated by a couple of guys, with huge chip stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills, raising constantly, and basically controlling the pace of play. These clowns would be my targets.

I double up early on when I flop a set of fours. I checked to the raiser on the flop, and he bet, of course. I raised all-in because of the flush draw on the board. I wasn't worried about him having a flush draw. I wanted him to think I was potentially on the flush draw and making a move at this pot. he bought it and called me with K8. He had a par of kings with an 8 kicker. Bad play friend, but thank you none the less.

Later, I was able to raise when I had a flush draw, and another guy laid down his hand. There was less pre-flop raising now. The game was slowing down. To Prevail Takes Apathy has changed another game. I've made it my own. This is really cool. It's almost like I can break their will by being apathetic. I really don't care if they want to run the game. I'll wait, patiently, and I'll snap them off, one by one.

I found a room, and it has wifi. It's amazing to me how many places do not have it. I'm going to eat my free continental breakfast.

Friday, August 07, 2009


I was walking down the corridor of the Beau Rivage Hotel and Casino and I thought to myself, hey I know those guys. In front of me, at a table with a radio station’s advertisement pinned to it, were the bald guys who are always on my cable access sports channel. They are out of Atlanta, but I can’t for the life of me remember the name of their show.

If I had to guess it’s something like Mayhem in the AM, or some such similar drivel. These guys are just regular men who enjoy talking about, and more importantly continually learning new information about, sports so they can then talk more about sports. I’ve re-read that last sentence about six times, and it still sounds screwed up, but it conveys my thoughts. They like sports, a lot.

They like sports so much that they all three shave their heads. I assume this is to regale as a group in one last loud, outcry against male pattern baldness. This may not be true. It may be a marketing ploy designed to make their show stand out, visibly, above their regional competition. That’s probably it. If it works I commend you. I can’t imagine why else you would all three want to look exactly alike. You even have one of your interns jumping on your bald bandwagon. Are any of you individuals at all? Or it baldness just that uncool? I have no earthly idea. These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Other thoughts, particularly of late, have been keeping me awake at night. I recently received a trinket, in the mail, as a gift from a new friend. It is a card protector. To those of you unfamiliar with poker a card protector is something you place over your hole cards to protect them from having any other cards slide underneath them, or get mixed up with them. If this were to happen your hand would be dead, no matter what. Therefore, someone long ago invented card protectors. Brilliant, whoever you are, you are a jackass.

My friend was being nice. She thought I would enjoy this gift. My wife did not think it was such a good idea. I then reacted badly. I did not take her voice of concern seriously enough. In my own defense I did not understand how she, my wife, was feeling. Thankfully, I now understand. I apologize for being insensitive, again.

Something that I may have finally learned, after 29 years of marriage, is that if you have a choice of hurting the feeling of someone you live with, or hurting the feelings of someone you don’t, you should probably pick the latter’s feelings to hurt. It has to make life a lot easier. I suppose I’ll have to return the card protector. I liked it, although I rarely use one. They’re nice to have, just in case, sort of like a condom.

The Beau Rivage. A splendid hotel. Only $79 per night if you give them a minimum of 5 hours play at the poker tables. I think that is the number. They are lenient about it. If the poker room manager recognizes you then it’s no trouble whatsoever. I won a little bit last night, but the game is just not that great.

Apathy is working well, but it is boring as hell. I changed the game again last night. The table went from being hyper aggressive and raising constantly, to a more calm limp and see the flop sort of game.

I sat down, played very tight, trying to figure out how the players were acting to different situations. I picked up pocket queens, on the button. An apparently aggressive player raised to $20 in front of me. I just called. Both blinds also called. The flop came 6 high. The blinds both checked. Mr. Aggressive made a pass at me and bet $60. I slapped his hand away and raised it $100 more. The blinds got out of the way. There were two spades on the board.

I knew what was going through his mind. He thought I could be on a flush draw. He thinks his smallish pair, or big ace (AK, AQ, AJ) might be good. He is a gambler. He raises all-in. I instantly call, and the turn comes a queen. The river is an eight, of spades. I hate the spade.

I wait for him to turn over his hand as I had called him, and not the other way around. I looked over at him as if to say “I called you, friend. Whatya got”?

Slowly he rolled over pocket 8’s. I quickly turned over my pocket queens and he looked disgusted. Yes sir, you have been taken down by one seemingly apathetic man.

The rest of the night was dull as I continue to be card dead. I had a good night, won a little bit, stayed in a plush room, and will have a good meal after I play today. I think I’m heading to Tunica this afternoon. I’m hoping to be able to post this, aka, find a friggin wifi connection, once I get to Tunica. I can’t locate one in Biloxi.

I hope my friend understands everything concerning the card protector. My wife is a good woman. M has put up with my bs for years. We have been through so much crap that I have to respect her wishes in a situation such as this. M feels the way she does partly because of how her thoughts and attitudes have developed in twenty plus years of knowing my dumb ass! I would be insane if I did not realize that fact. I’m not insane, not yet.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009


I played for three and a half hours yesterday afternoon. It was like watching an old episode of Saved by the Bell. I would have rather been pulling out my eyelashes, one by one.

I lost, miserably. It was ugly. I did not get unlucky, unless being unlucky means bluffing off your stack with bottom pair and no draw. If that is so, then yes, I was unlucky.

I had a bit of a small argument, last evening, with the missus. I'm not sure if it was my last fictional writing that she may think was real, or if it has to do with the gift I received in the mail.

I received a good luck charm, a card protector. It's a porcelain pig, and it is supposed to be lucky. So, what's her issue? It was sent to me by a friend. If a male friend had sent it I'm sure there would be no issue. M, if you read this, and I'm not sure you do, I'm sorry for the mail man delivering it to our home. But, I'm keeping it.

I went back to play cards late last night right before closing. The games were wild. At one point this younger fella, who had won a bunch of chips, called another players all-in bet. The youngster then turned his cards face up to reveal one pair (middle pair) and a gut shot straight draw. His opponent tabled top pair. The youngster replied "I still have outs!! I can catch a bunch of cards to win!!"

This would be true except the river card has already been dealt. The hand was over.

How in the hell can I lose in a game like this?

Please, pokergods, let me catch a card or two. These clowns are dying to give away their cash.

It looks like heading out of town for a week or two is on the imminent horizon. Biloxi? Tunica? AC? Foxwoods? Upstate NY? Options abound....

Maybe I need to take a long ass road trip, hitting them all...

Late. Cods.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Fiction, untitled

"I'll be right out! I have to piss". and I did too, like a racehorse. I had been drinking beer steadily, with the occasional shot thrown in for good measure, since about nine. It was now near midnight, and I was getting loaded.

I leaned against the door of the men's room and kind of slid inside. The small sink was to the immediate right and I looked in the cracked mirror above the faucets. Christ, I looked like shit. My eyes were half closed, and my hair was a sweaty mass.

Great, I'm sure someone is going to want to go home with you, you piece of shit. I stumbled towards the urinal on the right. I tried to unzip my pants as I looked at the floor, in the corner. Someone had pissed all to the right of the urinal. That's messed up. I leaned left and went in front of the other urinal. I unzipped my pants and started to feel mildly better as I began to relieve myself.

I was noticing some of the fine art work and catchy phrases that people love to leave on bathroom walls. The ever famous "for a good blowjob call Jeremy at 376-xxxx". Brilliant. Here was one "Michelle is a whore". Huh, that's pretty straightforward and to the point. More interesting about it is that my wife is named Michelle. She was still my wife even though she was up the street with the the current "other man". I think his name is Aaron. Maybe it Derrick, I'm not sure. She always seems to leave me for someone with a similar sounding name to mine. I'll just call him Shithead.

Shithead had a good job. Shithead drove a nice car. Shithead paid attention to her. Shithead took her out. Shithead bought her things. Shithead wanted to have a big family with two dogs. Good for shithead. He's the model man.

Here I stand, next to a pool of urine reading phrases about various homo's in the vicinity. Seems like there is a Rick, Jake, and Mike. They all want to give head, and they were all nice enough to leave their phone numbers.

I also notice this one: LOOK DOWN. It had a down arrow next to it. Under that it said "Have you ever seen anything that small in a porno"? Very clever. and the answer is no. Not what I needed right now.

I wonder what my prospects were for picking someone up tonight? Someone of the female persuasion, thank you very much. I would guess almost nil.

Yes, it is sad, I know. This is a small town, and I was so sick of trying to hook up. Michelle and I had been apart for almost six months, and it had been pure hell. I needed more time, and it seemed like everywhere were reminders of her, and her new boyfriend.

I would certainly like to get Shithead in a dark alley somewhere. He's bigger than I am though, so I'll bring a gun. Why mess around? It seems to me I'd be better off putting an end to the whole ordeal, once and for all. I'd probably have to "off" myself though, right afterwards. There is no way I'm going away for homicide, bump that.

This piss was taking a long time. I finished up and I suddenly realized I don't have to hook up tonight anyway. What's the point? Pick someone up, take her home, screw her, and then hightail it the hell out of Dodge. I don't want to look at the woman I will be fucking, right now. I'm not sure there would be a lot of tender kisses and light touches. The sex would be rough. She would probably think I was an ass anyway, so I may as well just bypass the whole damn process and just go the fuck home.

I turn left out of the bathroom and keep walking, right out the door and onto the sidewalk out front. I walked quickly to the lot I was parked in and hopped into my pick up. I turned left out of the parking lot and then took the next left, down Park avenue.

This was the street that Michelle's parents live on. Michelle and Shithead are staying there tonight. I think I'll just drive by and be sure that they came to town this weekend.

I slow down as I approach the house and can distinctly see his truck out front. You think you're going to come to my town, asshole, and stroll around with my wife? You son of a bitch. I really wish the were both dead.

At that point it didn't matter that she had a good reason for finding someone else. It didn't matter that I was a jackass most of the time. It didn't matter that she had a right to happiness. All that mattered was I was pissed off and was going to do something.

I parked down the street and crept back, being sure to stay in the shadows of the trees. I walked along the back of the house, trying to stay low and not be seen. It was after midnight now, and I was sure nearly everyone was asleep.

I approached the truck and took out my keys. I dragged them down the side of the truck, back and forth, thoroughly enjoying myself. I wasn't very loud, and all of the lights were off at the houses nearby. I was behind the truck and unable to be seen from the street. This was turning into more fun than I thought was possible.

I wrote a big FUCK YOU! on the right rear quarter panel. For good measure I tore off one of the fog lights and cradled it under my arm as I ran to my truck on the street.

There you bastard! You'll love that when you get up in the morning to go for coffee at Dunkin' Donuts! Stop screwing married women! I kept running.

Holy shit! What a rush! I cannot believe I just did that. I got to the truck, opened the door, threw the fog light in the passenger seat and climbed in. I started it up and began driving down the street. Come on asshole, keep it straight. All you need is to get pulled over now. They are going to suspect it's you anyway, you know that right?


That's right. They will suspect me. I am such a dumbass. How the hell am I going to get out of this one?

I wonder if they send you to jail for vandelism?

Monday, August 03, 2009


I was writing this big, long history of what happened to me today. I've decided to cut it back a bit. I'll tell you what happened. I met some interesting people.

I had a haircut, which resulted in redemption for a past stylist who in past visits was less than pleasing. She gave me a nice trim and an excellent scalp massage, and did it all without too much talk at a very reasonable price. It was as it should always be.

On the other hand I had some really poor service at our tire place. Seems like that on top of making you stand behind a giant counter, they also like to make you wait. It's like waiting for your car to be serviced is the same as bowing to the Gods. It's just expected. Funny thing was that I hadn't even told them what I needed done. They just never asked me if I needed help, and I was standing at the damn counter!! I just got back into my car and drove away. I don't know what else to do except complain. Those guys were busy, I suppose.

I met a guy at the poker room who thought he was a comedian. He had about a million one-liners, and they were funny. He made things mildly interesting, I suppose. What happened next is something I see all of the time. He lost a few hands and the jokes stopped. Now the one-liners were jabs of discontent at the way someone had played their inferior cards against his monster hands.

It's like Someone or Something has sent past models of myself to play against me at the poker tables. I can't believe how boorish I used to be.

I lost today. More specifically I lost tonight what I had won earlier this afternoon. I'll try to do better tomorrow. I'm getting interested in going out of town for a few days. I need to stretch my wings, so to speak. I am in a rut.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

The New Undertaking

I was thinking that I might like to keep a journal, ya know, as my everyday life unfolds. It may not be interesting to many, but some people seem to think my life is exciting. Well, all I can say is we shall see.

I have a digital voice recorder. I think I'll try to take a break every couple of hours from poker to update the happenings on the recorder. It should be relatively simple to put it all in print at some point. That last sentence sort of sounds like famous last words. What is relatively simple?

The good part is that I'll be conveying my thoughts, and more specifically, my feelings as my day rolls along. I will also be writing about my travels across the country. I'm hoping I'm able to provide some insight into the exciting and wondrous world of real, live, professional poker. Can you feel the sarcasm here? It's not all that exciting, but it is rather unique. Which reminds me of the new waitress at the poker room. Her name is Lakien. Yesterday I told her that she had a uniquien name. Yes uniquien, like Lakien, pronounced lakeean. Yooneekeean. Get it? Shut it.

I hope it's an interesting read. At least more interesting than my post-apocalyptic view of two stoners realizing their world has been torn upside down. I had kind of a Jack Black meets Will Ferrel feel for that idea. hmmmm. Maybe later. Probably not.

You'll get to feel every bad beat, every suck out, every close encounter, and every night in jail. God, let's hope there are no nights in jail. I've been down that road before, it is not a good time. I suspect they purposely try to make it an experience you will never forget, that first night in jail. I'll never forget the guy two cells down who kept yelling "I'm hungry, hungry, hungry!!!" at the top of his lungs. I'm not sure why the jailers didn't just bring him some food the first time he requested it. I suspect it might be because we were in jail. They're funny like that.

Who knows? It's possible that by the end of this experiment I may actually have accomplished something. Ya know, the more I think about this the more I realize this is going to be a lot of work. That means that I have to really do this once I post this latest blog.



I've thought about it for the last twenty minutes. I still want to do it. I'm hoping it will help me discover some things about myself. Ya know, some unexplored regions of my psyche that, once uncovered, help me to be someone better than I am today.

What if I strike it rich, and I hit a home run and win some big, overexposed television tournament? Wouldn't that be a trip? Oh well, ya gotta have dreams.

What are my dreams? I bet everyone thinks about what they want to accomplish in life. But, what do I want to accomplish in the next year or so? Well, I think I want to still be playing poker. Therefore, I'd better win enough to continue to pay bills. Kids gotta eat and all of that. I want to play more on the internet, although it has become an unfamiliar game, internet poker. I will probably not play too much internet poker. But playing more than I currently do cannot hurt too much. I want to take my game and match it against some of the players in the higher cash games found in AC, LV, and LA.

If that goes well, then we should be rolling along for next June and the World Series of Poker in sunny Las Vegas, Nevada. There is no way I'm missing it again. If I miss the Series next year then it will be because I have joined either the work force or the peace corps (to avoid debt collectors).

So, this grand experiment will begin on August 3rd, 2009. I hope anyone reading this would offer a little prayer and please help me to gain some positive energy for this undertaking. Please let it go well, please let it go well, please let it go well. If it goes poorly I will be eating a lot of crow and feeling like a jagoff. That wouldn't be the first time.

Catch you later.