Money Hater

The last few days I have played quite a bit of no-limit online. Many people I respect claim that there is much money to be made in that game, and I like money. Besides, I eventually want to learn to play all forms of poker well. So, I started playing baby stakes online, where the blinds are 50c/$1, and the maximum buy-in is $100. Wow. There are more drooling idiots in those games than at a Bon Jovi concert.

For example:

It folds to me in the SB with A3o, I make it $4. BB calls. Flop comes A35r. I bet $6 into the $8 pot. BB goes all-in for $60 total. I hate it, as he’d either have to be insane to shove $60 into a pot of $14 here without the nuts, but i call because I don’t fold aces-up. The turn is a 5. I hate that card, as now I don’t beat any aces. The river is an 8. He had 75o for the 2-outer on the turn. Brilliant.

I just got back from the Commerce Casino in Los Angeles. We landed yesterday at 7am. I came home and slept all day. I needed to get home, but now my sleep schedule is a disaster. I slept today from 7am until 3pm. I am a vampire.

I played 56 hours of poker over the 8 days I was there. It was my first foray into the 100/200 game at Commerce, so I was somewhat apprehensive. Not so much because of the dollar amounts, but rather because I was not familiar with the players. After a few days I had everyone figured out and was completely comfortable.

One day I was lucky enough to get into a game with some deeply embittered Persian gentlemen. I went through a stretch where I got AQ or better 5 hands in a row and kept raising. These guys had seen enough and decided that it was time to 3bet me with whatever shitboxes they had. I open AJo, angry guy 3bones next in, angrier guy coldcalls 3bets, folds back to me and I call. Flop comes A72r and I c/r and he calls. Turn is another A. I bet, he raises, I think and realize he has air, so I call, for 3betting would be the equivalent of smothering the fire. I don’t want that. I want to give it oxygen, so it burns brightly. The river is a Q. I am not crazy about that card. I check, he bets and the instant I call his hand spirals into the muck. I flash an ace and say “I have it every single time, guys.” This infuriates one of the guys, and when I stand up to go talk to a friend at another table, he shoots up and shouts “Where are you going?”. Before I can respond, he says “Let’s go play 200/400. Me and you. For $20,000″. My friend’s eyes light up when he hears this. He will have some of the action and wants this battle to happen, as he is in the business of procuring dollars from morons and knows I will disembowel this testosterone riddled jackass. This guy then says he’d play 400/800. A good player next to me says, “Sorry, but if that game goes, I’m following you right over there.” I laugh, as I cannot blame him.

The talk dies down when it becomes clear that I am not afraid of either (a) him or (b) the dollar amount and he sits back down. We then play the following hand:

I raise AKo, he coldcalls by peeling two $100 bills from his fist. He has no chips at this point, just a pile of cash that he clearly is looking to combust. The BB (an annoying Asian woman who I have taken to calling “Dumpy”. She is pale, has a very round face, droopy eyes and pudgy fingers that look like little sausages that are trying to bust out of their casing. They disgust me, yet I find myself constantly looking at them.), calls in the BB. The flop comes K98 with a spade draw. Dumpy donks into me and I raise. Angry guy incinerates two more bills as he calls, Dumpy calls. The turn is a big, fat glorious red ace. Dumpy now donks again, and again I raise her pale-ass, Angry guy now burns $400 more by calling, dumpy calls. The river is a red 2. Dumpy checks, I bet, Angry guy folds as he glares at the dealer, Dumpy calls and shows the hideous beat she is holding, A8o. Shockingly, the angry guy busted his $10K 25 minutes later.

Tuesday night I board a plane for LA, the land of those who treat their dollars with great irreverence. I am on the same flight with 3 friends, one of whom is flying in first class. I attempt to upgrade, but it is full. This delights my friend greatly, and he tells me that he hopes I am stuck in a middle seat, wedged between a sweaty 325lb man and a screaming baby. No such luck, as I have an aisle seat. Seated to my left, however, is a woman who likely outweighs me, and I am tipping the scale at over 230 these days. She is not small. To her left is her son, who has never flown before. He must be 17 or so.

He is excited yet somewhat nervous, but his nervousness fades quickly. His mother, however, is petrified. He realizes this, and playfully teases her. She laughs, as she knows her fears are rather foolish, but she has them nonetheless. When it comes time to take off, she tells him that she’s going to hang on to him. He tells her she can’t. So, she asks if she can hold on to me if need be. I say, “sure”, as I am a nice guy. I also assume that when push comes to shove, she’s gonna grab his arm and hang on for dear life, and that he will not rebuke her. I was wrong.

We straighten up on the runway and the pilot hits the gas. The engine hums and the plane begins to rattle a bit as we accelerate forward. She grabs my arm and leans her head on my shoulder. I don’t have the heart to tell her that if this plane decides to go down, my arm will not save her. So instead I sit there silently, a 235lb white dude with black woman of equal weight clinging to him for dear life as we blast down the runway in a tin tube.

We make it into the air successfully, and she thanks me for being her security blanket as she releases my arm. I get out my laptop and pop in a movie. It is at about this time that the woman in front of me decides that it would be a good time to recline her seat. So, I now have my 6′2″ fat ass crammed in this little space with a 17″ laptop on my lap and a big fat sister on my left. This situation doesn’t go unnoticed, and at least 3 different flight attendants ask if I’d like to move to another seat. I am told there are empty seats in the last row, so I go check it out. There are indeed seats, but there is some 5′2″ 102 lb gal dead asleep sprawled across all 3. I sulk back to my sardine can, laptop in hand.

It comes time to land, and I prepare myself to comfort my neighbor yet again. My services are not needed, as this time she decides to grip the back of the seat in front of her while leaning her head against it. Once we hit the ground and the plane slows to taxi-speed, I hear her utter “Thank you, Jesus.”. Thank you indeed.

So I decided to take a few days off from live poker. It’s one thing to be running bad, but it is another thing entirely to want to slaughter everyone around you. I don’t think I am a killer by nature, so I took a few days off. I went back to the card barn last night to play some low-stress 8/16 with a friend. There is a promotion running where the jackpot is doubled between 7-11pm. It was going to be over 100K, so I played for 2 hours. That game never ceases to amaze me. I have said it before and will say it again: I think that the 8/16 players at Canterbury are probably the worst limit hold’em players in the galaxy.

My favorite hand was the very first one I played. I posted in the hijack, and it folded to the guy to my right who raised, I look down at the BAD MUTHA (K9) and call without missing a beat, the fisherman (why I call him the fisherman should be clear shortly) calls in the BB. 3 of us to the flop, which comes TJQr. Once the flop hits, the raiser makes some noise or comment, but he verbalized something that made me immediately think, “This is very, very bad.” The fisherman bet out, and now the raiser just called. I flopped a straight, but am completely horrified that this guy has AK and flopped the stones and is now making a little bit of the slooooooowplay. So, I just call which is probably bad but whatever. The turn is an A, and now the fisherman gives up on his stupid bluff and checks, the pfr bets and I call, happy that I just sucked out and will now get 1/2 this pot, the fisherman folds. The river is a 4 and now the pfr checks, I bet, and he calls with ATo. I was shocked. But I got the monies.

I couldn’t stop laughing while I was at the table, but most of the laughter was caused by the guy in the 9 seat who was wearing his polarized fishing sunglasses. Every time I looked at him I giggled.

He liked to talk during his hands, thus making it simple to figure out what he had. He once limped utg and got many limpers behind him. The flop came 892r and he bet and got 2 calls. The turn was another 2 and as each guy called his turn bet he said, “Oh no. You don’t have a duck, do you?” Which made the odds that this jackass had a 2 at about 97%. The river was a J and he bet again and said “I sure hope no one has a jack”, now making it 100% that this moron has at least a 2. The button just called and immediately tabled the T7s for a rivered straight, clearly horrified that the fisherman had quads. The fisherman flips over a 2 in disgust. This made me giggle. I have not giggled enough lately. I think I need to play more 8/16.

I think it would be harder to potty-train a chimp than it would be to teach it to beat that game.

It seems that I am to never win again ever. Which, I suppose, I have coming to me. After all, I am quite the prick, so I can understand why this is happening. I deserve it. That said, if I am going to lose, why does it have to be to arguably the biggest dork around? I brought this on myself I suppose. My guess is this dork heard me describing him as “dumber than a bag of hammers” to another player, and thus now has it in for me. So, he will call me with ANYTHING, thinking somehow this irritates me. Right. His desperate efforts to give me his money irritate me. (Like I stated earlier, the guy is a moron.) Typically I figure it is best to simply be nice to people, but being a prick to this guy is very profitable. For example……

I raise KJo in late position. Dork defends his BB. Flop 753r. He checks, I bet, he calls. The turn is a slut, which I think is a good card to bet, so I do. He calls. Now I am done with the hand. The river, however, is an A. This is too good a card for me to check, so I bet it and he calls me. The final board is 753QA. He has 32o and wins. I have the only hand he beats. He called preflop with 3-high.

Another gem……

He raises in the CO. His drooling friend coldcalls on the button,I 3bet 2 big gay black nines out of the SB, BB folds, retards call. Flop A42 with two spades. I bet, retard calls, button folds. Turn is the Ks. I check, retard bets, and now I have to call with my dumb spade draw. River is a red 7. I check, and now retard has to check his red KJ because he made his hand but utterly hates it, as he doesn’t beat anything except the hand I have. Awesome.

Apparently he is very wealthy from some big sale of his company, which is good news for me, for instead of hurling rocks or obscenities at me, his way of expressing his derision is to consistently try to give me his money. (Brilliant strategy. Apparently if this guy was President, he would have our soldiers use bombs filled with hundred dollar bills.) I realize this, and every time he beats me with a stupid hand, I piss and moan and make it clear I am unhappy. He takes the bait, and continues to play utter trash against me. I am a manipulative bastard, and have basically turned this idiot into my own hand-puppet. It’s almost as if I have control of his chips, for if I could have told him how to play his hands, I’d have told him to do basically exactly what he did. “I raised with QQ, so you really need to calls with that T3s.” The problem is, I have yet to figure out how to control the deck. This dork proceeds to torture me all night, in spite of his repeated efforts to give me his dollars.

The other day I arrived at the local card room at 5pm. I play a little 4/8 while waiting for a 30/60 seat, as there is a former student of mine in that game and I wanted to talk with him. Very nice kid. At 6:30 I get called for the 30 game and make my way over. I play for a few hours and eventually some guy shows up who is legendary. I have never played with him, but apparently he won $20k or so from a recent badbeat jackpot that he allegedly is doing his best to give away. This pleases me.

We play for a while and it becomes obvious that what were once mere allegations about this guy’s play are indeed stone cold facts. This guy is horrible. Not only that, he is a blithering idiot who I suspect may be mildly retarded.

The game only gets better when another legendary player shows up. This guy once went over 10 bets preflop with K9 (which admittedly may be expert, but this guys is far from expert). He likes to raise and reraise, even though it is not yet clear that he even understands the hand rankings. He buys in for $600, all in $20 bills. He plays a few hands like the gorilla he is, and then I get to a play a pot with him when I pick up KK. I raise, he 3balls, I 4bet, he 5bets, I call intending to go insane on any aceless flop. It comes J62r and we go all 10 bets he has in front of him. I am thrilled to be in this spot, as this guy could have anything. It just so happened that this time he managed to show up with two red aces. He doubled up through me and proceeded to bust in the next 5 hands. It was clearly not going to be my night.

At 3am the game is myself, a very good player and this jackpot jackass. The jackass starts to talk. A lot. Not to us, but to the dealers. He was talking about how he chats online with Lindsay Lohan and Ashley Simpson and a bunch of other celebrity tramps. Apparently they are all sweethearts. The specifics of his other ramblings escape me, but they were equally preposterous. To the dealer’s credit, they managed to smile and nod and humor this jackass without ever making it obvious that he was completely freaking them out.

So, this freakshow decides to call in sick to work and keep playing. I am glad, as he has lots of my money and I want it back. He continues to abuse me. The day players start to trickle in. At this point I have been in the game for over 12 hours and I am buried. Some guy who knows the jackass sits down. I get a look from another good player in the game that says “We want him here. He hates money.” This becomes abundantly clear when he plays the following hand: One player limps, the jackpot jackass limps the button, SB is this new moron and he raises, I call in the BB with A7, rest call. Flop comes AJ3 with two hearts. SB bets, I raise, jackass coldcalls, SB 3bets, I call and hate myself for getting into this spot, button calls. The turn is a black 9. SB bets, I call, button calls. The river pairs the jack. SB says, “I’m gonna check that card”, I thank god I don’t have to make a river call and check with glee, button checks. SB says he can’t beat an ace. I am slaphappy at this point in the session, so I have no trouble turning to him and saying, “You can’t beat an ace?!”, in a tone that really said, “What the fuck???”. He says “I had a pair bigger than jacks but couldn’t beat an ace.” That makes sense. I ended up chopping it with button’s A5.

A while later I get in a pot with this new guy and he gives me the “I’m gonna raise you to see where you’re at” as he check/raises me on the river. This horrifies me, as that speech from that guy typically means, “I have the nuts.” I am running super bad at this point, so I assume anything is possible, so long as it involves me losing pots in an excessively gay fashion. I replay the hand in my mind. A few guys limp, jackpot jackass raises, SB moron calls, I call in the BB with T7s. Flop comes T52r. Checks to jackass who bets, SB moron calls, I check/raise, jackass 3bets, SB moron calls 2 more cold, I call. The turn is a delicious 7. Checks to jackass who bets, SB moron calls, I check/raise, jackass now inexplicably folds, SB moron calls. The river is a 6 and now he gives me that speech as he check/raises the river. The nuts on a T5276 board is 98. I think to myself, “If he’s got 98, well then good for him and he can have another $60.” He rolls over 76o and I win. It is now clear that this guy is also a total idiot. To my delight, I have both of these clowns on my immediate right.

The only question now is which of these two dolts is dumber. This hand did not help clear things up: Jackpot-boy open limps the button, SB moron completes, I check the BB with Q7s. The flop comes Q63r. SB moron bets, I raise, jackpot-boy cold 3bones the button, SB 4bets, I cannot believe how bad I run and fold, jackpot-boy calls. The turn is a 2. SB moron bets, jackass calls. The river brings an ace. SB bets, jackass raises, SB shakes his head and calls. Jackass rolls over A8o. SB wins with his turned 2pair, Q2o. If I wasn’t so sure that these guys were retarded, I’d almost think they were colluding.

I played for over 25 hours. I got murdered. It sucked.

Yuck.  Hope you all are safe.