Money Hater

I don’t read all that much. I am not sure why, but I suspect it is because I am of limited intellect and just get bored with stuff. I apparently suck at reading hands as well, as I played this hand the other night because of my read, and I was way wrong.

Bad player limps in middle position, I raise the AT of spades a few spots later, good player calls in the BB. Flop comes 644 with two clubs. I bet, good player check/raises, other guy folds, I call thinking BB either has clubs, trip 4’s, a hand like 77 or nothing. Turn is a red king. He bets, I decide that is a good card to raise and before I can look up he has 3bet. Alarms go off in my head.  I think this line is total BS, so I call intending to call any river that is not a club, as I don’t think he’d play anything like this other than a monster.  There are only a few monsters out there on this board, and if he has one of ‘m, good for him.  The river is a red ace. He checks and I check, as given my read, he can’t call a river bet because he doesn’t have anything. Or he has a monster and is gonna check/raise my ass. He says “You win”, and I think “I knew you didn’t have shit”, but he shows a 6 and gives me a look of disgust as I table my hand. I never thought he’d have a 6 here in a million years. I suck at poker. Thank God I was offered a job yesterday.

Tonight I played some poker with a little Asian gamboooler who I have never seen before. He must be around 47. He is wearing grey slacks, a white striped button down shirt and white sneakers that look like they could be 2 sizes too big. He clearly is ready for make some gambooooooool.

He sits down in our 30/60 game and posts in the CO. It folds to him and he checks, folds to me in the BB and I gas KJo, CO calls. The flop comes J84r. I bet, the gamboooooler raises, I 3bone, he goes 4, I call and wonder wtf is going on. Turn is a 2. I check/call. River is a 4. I check/call and the gambooooooler rolls A4o. Awesome. Another moneyhater is born. I smile inside knowing that I will soon be in possession of a great many of his dollars.

We play for a few hours and he does some stellar things like open limp the button with 87o and flop 456r. But he slowly sets his dollars on fire and digs into his pockets for rebuys at least twice. I comment to a friend that I feel I may have to stay until he burns up every dime. I want him hitchhiking home. For some reason I loathe him. Must be the A4o hand.  Or maybe I’m just a prick.  Either way I want him BUSTO.

During our session, I notice that the sunglasses he is wearing say “police”on the side, and I think also on the front. Not in big letters, but it is clearly there on the frames. I don’t know what is more bizarre; for him to actually be a cop and have these glasses, or to not be one and have them. They look like glasses a cop would wear, but do cops get sunglasses issued to them? I must get to the bottom of this.

Later on a new dealer pushes in. She has long, straight, dark hair that comes midway down her back. The gamboooooler is seated next to her in the 1 seat, and has said almost nothing up to this point, but out of the blue tells her that he will give her $5 for a haircut. She looks understandably confused and tells him that she is growing it out so she can donate it to a cause that makes wigs for chemotherapy patients with breast cancer. The gambooooler sits out the next few hands, but is standing near the table. When the dealer asks if he wants his BB, he just slowly shakes his head with a look that says “No way sister, cancer is contagious. I ain’t gonna get near you.” My friend and I giggle as this transpires.

On my 2nd or 3rd day at Bellagio, I got to see the infamous Brandi. If you don’t know who she is and you have hours to kill, you can learn about her here . Many have written that she is very attractive in real life, so I was rather excited to size her up. There is no disputing that she is bat-shit insane, but her hotness was still up for debate.

She slithered into the Bellagio wearing jeans, a red top and sunglasses. She carried herself in a way that made it clear she thought she was hot shit, but I did not think her attire was over-the-top. That was until I saw her shoes. She was wearing hot red stiletto heels that would make even a hooker blush. They had to be at least 3 inches high, and thus caused her to walk like a two-bit hoochie skeeza. Had she come in wearing those clothes and a pair of sandals, she’d just be some gal in the poker room. But with those heels, she is now some tart in the poker room. Also, she loads on the perfume. I could smell her from at least 20 feet away. It is nauseating. I understand that she has odors she is trying to conceal, but they make feminine products for that.

It was difficult for me to gague her hotness. The more I looked at and smelled her, the more I felt sorry for her and began to view her more as a vulnerable, damaged girl than a potentially sexy woman. She is attractive, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say she is hot. And she is clearly damaged goods.

It is a Sunday afternoon, and I decide that it would be a good day to cook some chicken on the grill. So, I get the grill lit, sodomize the chicken with a beer can and wait. At around 1:30 (mid-meal) my phone rings. It is a friend of mine who is currently in Vegas. He demands that I get my ass on a plane and get out there, as he wants me to make him the dollars. After scrambling madly and barely making it to the airport, I board a 5:15 flight.

I land in Vegas at around 7:30, and 14 seconds after I turn on my phone, it starts buzzing. It is my buddy. He is in the 3K NL event, and they have a dinner break. I should meet him at the RIO to eat, and he can give me a key to the room. Fine. I get in a cab and head over. I have a conversation with the driver about nationalized healthcare and how I used to be a teacher and all other kinds of other nonsense. He seems like a nice guy. The fare is like $18.20. I give him $30 and ask for 8 back. He gives me some song and dance about how he relies on tips for a living and has to pay 23% tax and blahblahblah and I end up giving him an extra 2 bucks when I should have stiffed his Eastern-Block ass after that comment.

We eat, and then immediately go over to the tourney area to (a) revel in the glory that is his chip stack and (b) look for Brandi. I have never seen a completely insane tramp in real life before, so I am giddy with anticipation. He told me she was there earlier, but alas she is nowhere to be seen. It was not meant to be.

I get to our room at the Bellagio and then head downstairs for making gambooooooool. I am going to play 100/200, a limit I have never played before, so I am a bit nervous. Plus, I don’t want to blow my friend’s money, but he (a) understands the risks and (b) is very confident that I will make him the dollars. He would not have given me $20k to play with if he wasn’t. (Most of the people at 2+2 think I am bad at poker, which I guess is largely my fault, as I am self-deprecating and often talk about how much I suck. This combined with the fact that the vast majority of people there greatly overestimate their poker skill makes it easy for them to conclude that PokerBob sucks. That said, I find it amusing that people who have never played with me before assume I am bad and are even willing to cross-book me, yet some of the best limit hold’em players around are more than happy to buy my action. Such irony makes me giggle. I like things that make me giggle.)

I get on the 100/200 list and then go annoy a guy I know who is in the 100/200 main game. He is used to playing much higher, and I think he is bored as 100/200 is the biggest thing going. We talk for a bit and then they start a 2^nd must-move. It is 4 handed. I recognize no one. Two of the guys look like internet players, and the 3^rd is a guy who could easily be Neil Young’s brother. He is wearing a black baseball cap that says “Out of all collection pots.” I have no idea how to interpret this at this point.

I fold my first few hands, and then on my 5^th hand I get A4 sooooted in the SB and I open. The guy with Neil Young’s DNA calls in the BB. The flop comes 532 with 2 of my soot and I almost vomit, but instead I bet. To my delight, but also horror, I get raised. I immediately assume he has a set and will win this pot. I calm myself and 3bone his ass and he calls. The turn is a black 7. I bet and he calls. The river is a 6 that brings in the flush and I bet hoping by the grace of all that is holy that he has a hand like KTs but he does not and just calls. I procure the dollars.

Later I get moved to the initial must-move table in the high-limit area. I have been up there in the past harassing my friends, but never as a player. I sit down in the 2 seat. I recognize the 1 seat as a French-Canadian fellow that I had met last year. I tell him he talks funny, and he immediately remembers me. He is a very nice fellow. We chat and have a good time and he rapes me in a pot where he makes the nut flush vs. my q-high flush where neither of us should have been in there because it was a time pot but we weren’t paying attention. Bleh.

The most fun hand I played was when a lady who had been opening a lot raised in EP and I 3bet the button with ATs. Flop comes J44 with 2 of a sooooot (not mine.) She donks and I smell BS and call her down UI. When my chips hit the felt on the river she says “Nice call, honey”, and tables the BAD MUTHA UI. Again, I procure the dollars.

2 hours into my session my buddy appears behind me. I am surprised to see him, and he looks like he just saw someone eaten alive. He went from having a very large stack to BUSTO in the span of 5 hands, only 2 of which he played.

Hand 1:

Blinds are 500/1000. Guy stuffs for 12K. My buddy flat calls with AK (he has like 50K). Everyone folds. Stuffer has A7o. It comes AK4r……7……..7……99.1% on the flop is not enough.

Hand 2 (4 hands later):

Guy opens late. My buddy reraises with AK from the BB. Guy stuffs. My buddy calls. Guy has AQ and says “I thought you were on tilt from that other hand.” Flop is all rags, but a whore hit the turn and BUSTO.

I play 4 hours my first night and lose around 2K, but get my feet wet and feel very comfortable in the game. At this point, there are no players in that game better than me.