29 SEP 06
I saw Jackass 2 last night. I laughed so hard my head hurt. I think this should be our new psyops weapon against the terrorists. You show them this movie and tell them THIS is what Americans do in our free time. Let me see YOU put a fishhook through your cheek and act as bait for hammerhead and Mako sharks! Let me see you put a leech in your eye!
I don’t want to give too much of the movie away. Go see it.
One thing that did give me a chuckle – Johnny Knoxville has a WaWa tattoo on his arm. After reading the Bash at the Boathouse trip reports, I can understand why.
***
I promise I’m working hard.
That’s being said, I had some free time at lunch and found this for you. If you don’t have 7 minutes, fast forward to minute 4 of this Celebrity Death Match between Chris Martin (Coldplay) and Bono (U2). Watch at least until minute 5:30. The key words you are listening for are, “It would take a miracle to save Chris Martin now!”
Click Here
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Jamie Gold Stole My Move!
28 SEP 06
Technically, it wasn’t my move to begin with, but still...
So, I decided to play live last night. I started at 3/6 just to pass the time and try to clock some hours for the player appreciation tournament (only 30 more to go). I take the big blind and 6 of us see a flop of 2 4 5. I have 10 3 for the open-ender, so I bet right out. 4 reluctant callers see a 2 on the turn. I bet again and only two very reluctant callers come along. We see a blank on the river.
I’m sure I’m beat, but I might as well sell this thing. I bet again. Now I look across at my opponents. Player #1 is a woman in her mid to late 40’s. She somewhat attractive, and she’s very nervous. I casually smile at her, and she mucks.
One down, one to go.
Player #2 is a German woman in her mid 60’s. She very conflicted. I grab my cards and say, “I’ll show you.”
She mucks her two pair. I flip over my 10 high nothing and drag the pot.
“You made a mistake!” She cries.
I’ve done this move before, but for some reason, I kinda feel bad, so I play up the mistake as genuinely as possible.
“I thought I had trip 2’s,” I say.
Tough guy in the 9 seat was having none of it. “Jamie Gold did the same thing at the WSOP." Pointing at me he says, "He knew he didn’t have shit.”
So I went home and watched the September 12th episode of the WSOP that I had saved on my DVR. Sure enough, there is Jamie Gold saying, “I’ll show you either way,” when he had 6 high nothing.
My move was for $30. His was for $12 million.
At least I get to keep my winnings.
Technically, it wasn’t my move to begin with, but still...
So, I decided to play live last night. I started at 3/6 just to pass the time and try to clock some hours for the player appreciation tournament (only 30 more to go). I take the big blind and 6 of us see a flop of 2 4 5. I have 10 3 for the open-ender, so I bet right out. 4 reluctant callers see a 2 on the turn. I bet again and only two very reluctant callers come along. We see a blank on the river.
I’m sure I’m beat, but I might as well sell this thing. I bet again. Now I look across at my opponents. Player #1 is a woman in her mid to late 40’s. She somewhat attractive, and she’s very nervous. I casually smile at her, and she mucks.
One down, one to go.
Player #2 is a German woman in her mid 60’s. She very conflicted. I grab my cards and say, “I’ll show you.”
She mucks her two pair. I flip over my 10 high nothing and drag the pot.
“You made a mistake!” She cries.
I’ve done this move before, but for some reason, I kinda feel bad, so I play up the mistake as genuinely as possible.
“I thought I had trip 2’s,” I say.
Tough guy in the 9 seat was having none of it. “Jamie Gold did the same thing at the WSOP." Pointing at me he says, "He knew he didn’t have shit.”
So I went home and watched the September 12th episode of the WSOP that I had saved on my DVR. Sure enough, there is Jamie Gold saying, “I’ll show you either way,” when he had 6 high nothing.
My move was for $30. His was for $12 million.
At least I get to keep my winnings.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Phone Update
27 SEP 06
So, I bought the phone. At least the laughing blonde didn’t get the sale.
Take that!
Apparently, my new phone comes with an MP3 player. Anyone know how to use this thing? Are there good places to get free music?
So, I bought the phone. At least the laughing blonde didn’t get the sale.
Take that!
Apparently, my new phone comes with an MP3 player. Anyone know how to use this thing? Are there good places to get free music?
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
As Summer Ends
26 SEP 06
Still another summer has spilled from my hands as a precarious pile of plates that topples to the floor. I gaze at the ruin, and wonder what wonderful opportunities were missed.
Thus ends my alliterative appreciation to the Summer of ’06.
***
I am a geek. I’ve always been a geek. My guess is that many of my poker comrades are also geeks. It is with this understanding that I’m sure you will appreciate the following anecdote.
I need a new cell phone (or mobile phone, or whatever the kids are calling them these days). As I walk into the T-Mobile store, I am greeted by a stunning blonde 19 year old who starts to smile at me (you know that smile – it’s the, “I know I’m cute smile.” It’s the smile that says, “You will buy whatever I tell you to buy because I’m who I am and you’re who you are smile.”)
But just as the smile touches the corners of her mouth, it turns into a hand over the mouth giggle as she points at my groin.
It’s 1984 all over again. I thought I was past young women pointing at my penis and laughing, dammit!
But wait. I still have my pants on, so it can’t be that. No, she is pointing at my belt. The source of her giggles – my pager.
“You still have a pager?” She asks, incredulously. “How cute!”
Would it be inappropriate to start crying in a T-Mobile store? I’m not sure about the etiquette here.
Instead, I half listen as she recovers enough to tell me about the latest Samsung model that has passed the “vault test,” whatever that is.
I didn’t buy the phone. I’m calling it a victory.
Still another summer has spilled from my hands as a precarious pile of plates that topples to the floor. I gaze at the ruin, and wonder what wonderful opportunities were missed.
Thus ends my alliterative appreciation to the Summer of ’06.
***
I am a geek. I’ve always been a geek. My guess is that many of my poker comrades are also geeks. It is with this understanding that I’m sure you will appreciate the following anecdote.
I need a new cell phone (or mobile phone, or whatever the kids are calling them these days). As I walk into the T-Mobile store, I am greeted by a stunning blonde 19 year old who starts to smile at me (you know that smile – it’s the, “I know I’m cute smile.” It’s the smile that says, “You will buy whatever I tell you to buy because I’m who I am and you’re who you are smile.”)
But just as the smile touches the corners of her mouth, it turns into a hand over the mouth giggle as she points at my groin.
It’s 1984 all over again. I thought I was past young women pointing at my penis and laughing, dammit!
But wait. I still have my pants on, so it can’t be that. No, she is pointing at my belt. The source of her giggles – my pager.
“You still have a pager?” She asks, incredulously. “How cute!”
Would it be inappropriate to start crying in a T-Mobile store? I’m not sure about the etiquette here.
Instead, I half listen as she recovers enough to tell me about the latest Samsung model that has passed the “vault test,” whatever that is.
I didn’t buy the phone. I’m calling it a victory.
Monday, September 25, 2006
More Random Thoughts
25 SEP 06
- I don’t much care for the hair style where women with long hair cut the back into a “V” shape.
- Parts of Texas can be beautiful, but it’s got nothing on Washington State in the summertime.
- Nothing is more important than family.
- I’m still not certain which is worse – losing a buy-in to the main event of the World Series by buying in or losing the same amount in various cash games.
- When you think you can absolutely do no more, that’s the time to reset the bar.
Final thought: They sicken of the calm that know the storm. - Dorothy Parker
Friday, September 22, 2006
Driveway Moment
22 SEP 06
NPR has something called a driveway moment, where people will sit in their car in order to finish listening to a particularly compelling story. This morning, in the parking lot of the hospital, I had to finish listening to John Feinstein talk about the Ryder Cup and his favorite moment.
He reminded us about Payne Stewart in the 1999 Cup, when, after enduring really horrible American crowds all day, Colin Montgomery was facing a 20 foot putt to win his match. The Americans had already won the cup, but Colin’s match hung on this putt. In his last public act (Payne died in a plane crash a month later), Payne picked up Colin’s ball and handed it to him, conceding the match.
It was one of my favorite moments, too.
The driveway moment was especially funny because as I got out of my car, two other doctors, who also had been sitting in their cars to listen to the story, also got out. We all looked at each other and smiled.
Final thought: I can no longer go to Al Can’t Hang’s blog from work. I get this:
ACCESS DENIED: DATING
This is hysterical and wrong on so many levels, I can’t begin to explain.
NPR has something called a driveway moment, where people will sit in their car in order to finish listening to a particularly compelling story. This morning, in the parking lot of the hospital, I had to finish listening to John Feinstein talk about the Ryder Cup and his favorite moment.
He reminded us about Payne Stewart in the 1999 Cup, when, after enduring really horrible American crowds all day, Colin Montgomery was facing a 20 foot putt to win his match. The Americans had already won the cup, but Colin’s match hung on this putt. In his last public act (Payne died in a plane crash a month later), Payne picked up Colin’s ball and handed it to him, conceding the match.
It was one of my favorite moments, too.
The driveway moment was especially funny because as I got out of my car, two other doctors, who also had been sitting in their cars to listen to the story, also got out. We all looked at each other and smiled.
Final thought: I can no longer go to Al Can’t Hang’s blog from work. I get this:
ACCESS DENIED: DATING
This is hysterical and wrong on so many levels, I can’t begin to explain.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Chess Doctor?
20 SEP 06
I just received the following e-mail. While it isn’t as great as the old, “Congratulations, Dr. Chako! You won 1st place in the two-table turbo SNG” e-mails, it’s still pretty good.
Hello, drchako!
Congratulations on winning the 1st round of Intermediate Chess section, 30th GameKnot tournament! The 2nd round will start on Monday, September 25th, 2006.
Good luck and have fun!
GameKnot.com
I wonder – are there other poker/chess crossovers out there? Are any of you playing on Gameknot? If not, where do you play?
I just received the following e-mail. While it isn’t as great as the old, “Congratulations, Dr. Chako! You won 1st place in the two-table turbo SNG” e-mails, it’s still pretty good.
Hello, drchako!
Congratulations on winning the 1st round of Intermediate Chess section, 30th GameKnot tournament! The 2nd round will start on Monday, September 25th, 2006.
Good luck and have fun!
GameKnot.com
I wonder – are there other poker/chess crossovers out there? Are any of you playing on Gameknot? If not, where do you play?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Aces
19 SEP 06
You’ve got Aces and raise pre-flop. You get one caller, an aggressive young player, and you see a flop of K Q 5 rainbow. You bet and he raises, so you put him on either top pair or maybe two pair. The turn is an 8. You check and he bets. You call and the river pairs the board with a 5.
You bet right out and he raises. What do you do?
Final thought: One more surreal You Tube video. Real Life Frogger. Watch this 10 second video several times.
You’ve got Aces and raise pre-flop. You get one caller, an aggressive young player, and you see a flop of K Q 5 rainbow. You bet and he raises, so you put him on either top pair or maybe two pair. The turn is an 8. You check and he bets. You call and the river pairs the board with a 5.
You bet right out and he raises. What do you do?
Final thought: One more surreal You Tube video. Real Life Frogger. Watch this 10 second video several times.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Screeeech!
15 SEP 06
That’s the sound of my $20 experiment coming to a halt. I was able to parley my $20 (after some huge ups and downs) to $3000. Last night I gave it all away on some truly horrible play at 20/40, which included misreading my hand twice (!) and betting into quads twice. At least the second time I ran into quads I didn’t re-raise. Why the hell would I re-raise my straight into a paired board?
Actually, that’s the question that the Freddie Deeb wannabe sitting next to me asked. It was a good question. I’m still not sure if he asked it in order to put me on tilt or if he was truly trying to teach me something. Regardless, it was a good question, and one I should have asked myself before lobbing three useless big bets at the pot.
Maybe I’ll turn this site into a You Tube linking post. It’s my new hobby, doncha know.
Here is Chet Atkins playing Vincent by Don McLean. Enjoy!
That’s the sound of my $20 experiment coming to a halt. I was able to parley my $20 (after some huge ups and downs) to $3000. Last night I gave it all away on some truly horrible play at 20/40, which included misreading my hand twice (!) and betting into quads twice. At least the second time I ran into quads I didn’t re-raise. Why the hell would I re-raise my straight into a paired board?
Actually, that’s the question that the Freddie Deeb wannabe sitting next to me asked. It was a good question. I’m still not sure if he asked it in order to put me on tilt or if he was truly trying to teach me something. Regardless, it was a good question, and one I should have asked myself before lobbing three useless big bets at the pot.
Maybe I’ll turn this site into a You Tube linking post. It’s my new hobby, doncha know.
Here is Chet Atkins playing Vincent by Don McLean. Enjoy!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Linking Wednesday!
13 SEP 06
First off – like I need another dammed hobby. You Tube is probably the most amazing thing to hit the net in a while. There is a ton of crap, but occasionally you find doozies like Chet Atkins. I loved the comment below the video about “that damend (sp) woman in the blue dress at the front.”
One more finger picker. This is a Tommy Emmanuel arrangement of the Beatles Day Tripper and Lady Madonna
Finally, perhaps the greatest invention since Snakes on a Plane, it’s the Treadmill Bike.
***
On the poker front, variance punched me in the face again yesterday, but this time it was up a grand then back down again. I walked out with my buy-in intact, but I’m more annoyed than usual. I had such good reads in the beginning, then I just got impatient.
I can’t believe I almost forgot the most important link! Tune into the internet tonight for the Hunter Silvastorm inaugural radio show. It’s at 8 PM EST (5 PM Pacific). Hunter is a fantastic public speaker and author who talks about his life as a blind person. Very inspirational, and worth an hour of your time.
Please click here to go directly to the Thru Our Eyes website.
First off – like I need another dammed hobby. You Tube is probably the most amazing thing to hit the net in a while. There is a ton of crap, but occasionally you find doozies like Chet Atkins. I loved the comment below the video about “that damend (sp) woman in the blue dress at the front.”
One more finger picker. This is a Tommy Emmanuel arrangement of the Beatles Day Tripper and Lady Madonna
Finally, perhaps the greatest invention since Snakes on a Plane, it’s the Treadmill Bike.
***
On the poker front, variance punched me in the face again yesterday, but this time it was up a grand then back down again. I walked out with my buy-in intact, but I’m more annoyed than usual. I had such good reads in the beginning, then I just got impatient.
I can’t believe I almost forgot the most important link! Tune into the internet tonight for the Hunter Silvastorm inaugural radio show. It’s at 8 PM EST (5 PM Pacific). Hunter is a fantastic public speaker and author who talks about his life as a blind person. Very inspirational, and worth an hour of your time.
Please click here to go directly to the Thru Our Eyes website.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Brutal Honesty
11 SEP 06
Before I get to just how bad I suck a poker, I’d like to say a word about 9/11. I was in residency when it happened. I wrote about it here. They called us out of conference, and I saw the destruction. My life as a soldier changed. I’m still proud to wear the uniform and serve my country. As most people know, next month will be 20 years in uniform for me. I’d join the military again, even knowing what I know now.
I’m just a little tired, that’s all.
***
Back to poker. I suck at it. I played in a tournament, and got so outplayed, it isn’t funny.
I raised from the button with A 6, got called and then called an all-in bet after the flop on a board of 10 6 2. He had A 10.
I raised in position with AQ (my least favorite hand), and get min re-raised by a tight player causing me to knee-jerk all in. Even the dealer knew he had AA.
I raised with A5 hearts and got raised all-in. I called of course and he showed AK.
I suck.
Um, I also suck out.
Hand #1: Spiked another 6 on the river.
Hand #2: The board went 333QQ to give me a bigger full house.
Hand #3: Spiked a 5 on the river.
First place. I SO didn’t deserve it.
Took my winnings to 10/20 and doubled up. Took those to 20/40. Pocket Aces UTG and only the missed-blind poster calls me (Don, my horseshoe-up-his-ass buddy who also hit the damned Bad-Beat Jackpot for nearly $100K, and who had just come from a royal flush at Pai Gow). Flop is Q2 something. Bet. Raise. Re-raise. Turn is a 2. Bet. Raise. Re-raise. CAP! (from me). River is blank. He turns over Q2. There goes Dr. Chako’s hard earned chips.
I still booked a winning session, but BOY do I suck.
Before I get to just how bad I suck a poker, I’d like to say a word about 9/11. I was in residency when it happened. I wrote about it here. They called us out of conference, and I saw the destruction. My life as a soldier changed. I’m still proud to wear the uniform and serve my country. As most people know, next month will be 20 years in uniform for me. I’d join the military again, even knowing what I know now.
I’m just a little tired, that’s all.
***
Back to poker. I suck at it. I played in a tournament, and got so outplayed, it isn’t funny.
I raised from the button with A 6, got called and then called an all-in bet after the flop on a board of 10 6 2. He had A 10.
I raised in position with AQ (my least favorite hand), and get min re-raised by a tight player causing me to knee-jerk all in. Even the dealer knew he had AA.
I raised with A5 hearts and got raised all-in. I called of course and he showed AK.
I suck.
Um, I also suck out.
Hand #1: Spiked another 6 on the river.
Hand #2: The board went 333QQ to give me a bigger full house.
Hand #3: Spiked a 5 on the river.
First place. I SO didn’t deserve it.
Took my winnings to 10/20 and doubled up. Took those to 20/40. Pocket Aces UTG and only the missed-blind poster calls me (Don, my horseshoe-up-his-ass buddy who also hit the damned Bad-Beat Jackpot for nearly $100K, and who had just come from a royal flush at Pai Gow). Flop is Q2 something. Bet. Raise. Re-raise. Turn is a 2. Bet. Raise. Re-raise. CAP! (from me). River is blank. He turns over Q2. There goes Dr. Chako’s hard earned chips.
I still booked a winning session, but BOY do I suck.
Friday, September 08, 2006
My Decision is Now Final
8 SEP 06
Two things happened today. By themselves, they are likely enough to make me want to get out of the military. Together, there can be no alternative.
1. I was (randomly) selected AGAIN for my 18th urinalysis. This is horrible because:
a. I have never used drugs in my life, and
b. I HATE HATE HATE pissing in front of other people.
2. I can no longer read Dr. Pauly at work. I get the ACCESS DENIED: GAMBLING message.
That’s it. Uncle Sam, take this job and shove it!
(After June 2008, of course)
Two things happened today. By themselves, they are likely enough to make me want to get out of the military. Together, there can be no alternative.
1. I was (randomly) selected AGAIN for my 18th urinalysis. This is horrible because:
a. I have never used drugs in my life, and
b. I HATE HATE HATE pissing in front of other people.
2. I can no longer read Dr. Pauly at work. I get the ACCESS DENIED: GAMBLING message.
That’s it. Uncle Sam, take this job and shove it!
(After June 2008, of course)
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
I’m Really Not a Bad Person
6 SEP 06
I was talking with Teri, one of the really nice dealers in a room full of nice dealers. She was upset that one of the players at our 4/8 table was rubbing it in when he won. It really upset her because it was against a very nice older gentleman who didn’t deserve the abuse. She stated (rather loudly, I might add), that this annoying gentleman should be more like the guy in the one seat.
Moi?
I laughed and said that I’m not always the nicest guy. She replied that she had never seen me be disrespectful or raise my voice to anyone.
Huh?
I’m guessing she is just SO nice that she has chosen to overlook some of my outbursts. When I reminded her that I’ve actually come back from the parking lot just to apologize to the table, she laughed and insisted that it couldn’t be true.
I was reminded of G-Rob’s post about being a jerk. I had moved up to 10/20 and was getting ready to leave. It was a perfect table, meaning I had a read on everyone sitting down. There were three players of my skill level and one better. Three calling stations rounded out the bunch. The others were away.
Under the gun, I look down at 4 6 off-suit. Can you say, “Raise?” I knew you could.
UTG +1 re-raises to $30. He’s good, so I know he has a hand. UTG +2 calls (?). Two more callers before it gets back to me and I’m getting 14:1 to call an extra bet (or is it 15:1? I should know this).
Flop is 3 5 7 with two diamonds. Ho. Ly. Crap.
I bet right out. Raise. Call. Call. Call.
I re-raise, and ALL 4 MORONS CALL, DAMMIT.
Turn is a non-diamond 2. I bet out again. Raise. Call. (Remember, these are two good players). Finally, morons 4 and 5 fold. I re-raise. Call. Call.
River is the GD 2 of diamonds, pairing the board and putting three to the flush out there. I slam my hands on the table (see Teri? I CAN be a jerk).
“Check!” says Dr. Chako.
“Check.” says UTG +1
“Check.” says UTG +2.
Pocket Kings and pocket Aces.
At least I didn’t rub it in. UTG +1 was berating me the whole time I was racking my chips. “You called three bets with THAT?”
What I wanted to say was, “Tell me how I played the hand wrong.” The only mistake I made was raising with the hand to begin with. Instead, I pulled my hat down low, tipped the dealer a red-bird, and walked out into the sunshine, all the while looking over my shoulder.
I was talking with Teri, one of the really nice dealers in a room full of nice dealers. She was upset that one of the players at our 4/8 table was rubbing it in when he won. It really upset her because it was against a very nice older gentleman who didn’t deserve the abuse. She stated (rather loudly, I might add), that this annoying gentleman should be more like the guy in the one seat.
Moi?
I laughed and said that I’m not always the nicest guy. She replied that she had never seen me be disrespectful or raise my voice to anyone.
Huh?
I’m guessing she is just SO nice that she has chosen to overlook some of my outbursts. When I reminded her that I’ve actually come back from the parking lot just to apologize to the table, she laughed and insisted that it couldn’t be true.
I was reminded of G-Rob’s post about being a jerk. I had moved up to 10/20 and was getting ready to leave. It was a perfect table, meaning I had a read on everyone sitting down. There were three players of my skill level and one better. Three calling stations rounded out the bunch. The others were away.
Under the gun, I look down at 4 6 off-suit. Can you say, “Raise?” I knew you could.
UTG +1 re-raises to $30. He’s good, so I know he has a hand. UTG +2 calls (?). Two more callers before it gets back to me and I’m getting 14:1 to call an extra bet (or is it 15:1? I should know this).
Flop is 3 5 7 with two diamonds. Ho. Ly. Crap.
I bet right out. Raise. Call. Call. Call.
I re-raise, and ALL 4 MORONS CALL, DAMMIT.
Turn is a non-diamond 2. I bet out again. Raise. Call. (Remember, these are two good players). Finally, morons 4 and 5 fold. I re-raise. Call. Call.
River is the GD 2 of diamonds, pairing the board and putting three to the flush out there. I slam my hands on the table (see Teri? I CAN be a jerk).
“Check!” says Dr. Chako.
“Check.” says UTG +1
“Check.” says UTG +2.
Pocket Kings and pocket Aces.
At least I didn’t rub it in. UTG +1 was berating me the whole time I was racking my chips. “You called three bets with THAT?”
What I wanted to say was, “Tell me how I played the hand wrong.” The only mistake I made was raising with the hand to begin with. Instead, I pulled my hat down low, tipped the dealer a red-bird, and walked out into the sunshine, all the while looking over my shoulder.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Fairbanks (Her side)
5 SEP 06
Editors Note: Thanks again to my old friends (and new fans) for reading my short story Fairbanks, in the online magazine Truckin’ (if you haven't read it already, please check it out before proceeding). Not to be outdone, my wonderful wife was inspired to write the story from Leopard Lady’s perspective. I feel compelled to say that my wife actually likes me, but, well… read the story.
I can’t believe I have another late shift this week. I feel like killing Debbie. Her boyfriend Mutt is taking her out to celebrate their half-year anniversary. Its six frickin’ months. Who celebrates six frickin’ months? Although with Debbie’s track record, it’s probably better. She’ll be screwing his brother before they hit a year. Enjoy it while it lasts, Mutt.
I’m pasting the 25% off stickers on the newest stack of hardbacks when he walks in. I can tell he’s not from around here. If he were from here, he’d be home trying to black out the windows so he could go to bed like a normal person, instead of walking around the bookstore at 11 p.m. Plus he’s wearing some logo golf shirt and shorts, and these goofy sandal things that look like his mom just bought them for him for school. I can’t tell how old he is by just glancing at him, but when he walks under the doorway, the lights catch a few silver strands, so I figure he’s gotta be older than me. That and the dorky old-guy golf clothes.
Still, he’s not bad looking. Clearly military or corporate dude, based on the haircut. Ears are a little big, but he has these chocolate eyes with big dark lashes. He smiles at another customer, and it’s one that a girl could look at for a while, if she didn’t have anything better to do. If she was into dorky old guys in golf clothes.
Gotta do a book cruise. You can tell so much about these guys by the books they read. The Purpose Driven Life? Religious zealot, treats his wife like property, has a huge porn collection. Freakanomics? Boring. Water for Elephants? Listens to NPR, wears hemp clothing, might be gay. Any biography of one of the Bushes? Republican. Say no more.
So cute dorky guy wanders over to fiction. Here’s where you really gotta be careful. Grisham? Probably smart, but boring and way behind the times. Dan Brown? Clearly one of the herd (and saw the movie before reading the book). George R.R. Martin? Appreciates good fiction, but probably played too much Dungeons and Dragons and didn’t have too many girlfriends as a teenager.
I’m carrying an armful of books to make it look like I have a purpose. He’s pausing at “B”. Nice behind, even in the dorky golf shorts. He’s looking at Brown . . . oh God . . . I can hear the rest of the flock bleating . . . wait. Bukowski. Bukowski? Not your everyday, pick it up at the airport read. Ok, maybe he’s not a total loser. “Hmmmm.”
Did I say that out loud? He starts, like I’ve spoken to him, but keeps his head down in the copy of Pulp he’s picked up. I try to casually glance at more of what he’s reading, but I gotta move on. I think he knows I was checking him out. Back to the 25% stickers.
He wanders up a few minutes later with a book in hand and gets in line. After I ring up some old lady who couldn’t find her discount card, he steps up to the register and flops the book up in front of me. Big smile. Nice eyes.
I look down. “Stephen King?” I ask, incredulously. My father reads King. He also wears Aqua Velva and has a Members Only jacket. Cute dorky guy just headed further down the dorky spectrum.
Nice eyes narrow. Smile wavers, but then its back. “Excuse me?” he replies, a little edge to his voice.
“I’m sorry. I just…” He’s dorky, but he is cute. I look down at the register while I try to think of how to carefully remove my foot from my mouth before he notices.
“Wait. You just what?” he asks.
“It’s just. . . . I saw you looking at the Bukowski.” It comes out fast.
“Yes. And…?” He’s waiting.
Time for clever reply. “Well,” I paused, “I guess I had bigger hopes for you.” I lower my head, but look back up at him, waiting. Hoping he’ll laugh and say something witty. Or even sarcastic. I could do cute and sarcastic.
He stares at me. He’s trying to look me in the eye, but his eyes are wandering. It’s the leopard tattoo. Guys can’t not look at the tattoo; ergo, guys cannot help follow the tattoo down into my cleavage. By now I’m certain he’s noticed the nipple rings. They all eventually do. He looks up, his face a blank. He smiles. It’s a pleasant smile, but not as cute now. Almost like his mom told him to smile. Then he starts to giggle.
“What?” I smile at him, but I’m starting to think there is something wrong with him.
“Nothing.” He quickly replies. A pause. “I was just thinking about a quote from one of Bukowski’s books.”
“The one about boring people?” I ask. “Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show.”
He stares blankly at me. Clearly not the quote he was thinking of.
He pauses. Eyes darting. “Actually, it’s the one about sex.” he says.
“Hmmm.” Figures. Men. They’re all bastards. He can’t give me two seconds of clever. King. Sex. Should have known. Probably is waiting for the Bush bio to go on sale.
“That will be $14.99 for your King,” I say. End of conversation. What a putz.
Editors Note: Thanks again to my old friends (and new fans) for reading my short story Fairbanks, in the online magazine Truckin’ (if you haven't read it already, please check it out before proceeding). Not to be outdone, my wonderful wife was inspired to write the story from Leopard Lady’s perspective. I feel compelled to say that my wife actually likes me, but, well… read the story.
I can’t believe I have another late shift this week. I feel like killing Debbie. Her boyfriend Mutt is taking her out to celebrate their half-year anniversary. Its six frickin’ months. Who celebrates six frickin’ months? Although with Debbie’s track record, it’s probably better. She’ll be screwing his brother before they hit a year. Enjoy it while it lasts, Mutt.
I’m pasting the 25% off stickers on the newest stack of hardbacks when he walks in. I can tell he’s not from around here. If he were from here, he’d be home trying to black out the windows so he could go to bed like a normal person, instead of walking around the bookstore at 11 p.m. Plus he’s wearing some logo golf shirt and shorts, and these goofy sandal things that look like his mom just bought them for him for school. I can’t tell how old he is by just glancing at him, but when he walks under the doorway, the lights catch a few silver strands, so I figure he’s gotta be older than me. That and the dorky old-guy golf clothes.
Still, he’s not bad looking. Clearly military or corporate dude, based on the haircut. Ears are a little big, but he has these chocolate eyes with big dark lashes. He smiles at another customer, and it’s one that a girl could look at for a while, if she didn’t have anything better to do. If she was into dorky old guys in golf clothes.
Gotta do a book cruise. You can tell so much about these guys by the books they read. The Purpose Driven Life? Religious zealot, treats his wife like property, has a huge porn collection. Freakanomics? Boring. Water for Elephants? Listens to NPR, wears hemp clothing, might be gay. Any biography of one of the Bushes? Republican. Say no more.
So cute dorky guy wanders over to fiction. Here’s where you really gotta be careful. Grisham? Probably smart, but boring and way behind the times. Dan Brown? Clearly one of the herd (and saw the movie before reading the book). George R.R. Martin? Appreciates good fiction, but probably played too much Dungeons and Dragons and didn’t have too many girlfriends as a teenager.
I’m carrying an armful of books to make it look like I have a purpose. He’s pausing at “B”. Nice behind, even in the dorky golf shorts. He’s looking at Brown . . . oh God . . . I can hear the rest of the flock bleating . . . wait. Bukowski. Bukowski? Not your everyday, pick it up at the airport read. Ok, maybe he’s not a total loser. “Hmmmm.”
Did I say that out loud? He starts, like I’ve spoken to him, but keeps his head down in the copy of Pulp he’s picked up. I try to casually glance at more of what he’s reading, but I gotta move on. I think he knows I was checking him out. Back to the 25% stickers.
He wanders up a few minutes later with a book in hand and gets in line. After I ring up some old lady who couldn’t find her discount card, he steps up to the register and flops the book up in front of me. Big smile. Nice eyes.
I look down. “Stephen King?” I ask, incredulously. My father reads King. He also wears Aqua Velva and has a Members Only jacket. Cute dorky guy just headed further down the dorky spectrum.
Nice eyes narrow. Smile wavers, but then its back. “Excuse me?” he replies, a little edge to his voice.
“I’m sorry. I just…” He’s dorky, but he is cute. I look down at the register while I try to think of how to carefully remove my foot from my mouth before he notices.
“Wait. You just what?” he asks.
“It’s just. . . . I saw you looking at the Bukowski.” It comes out fast.
“Yes. And…?” He’s waiting.
Time for clever reply. “Well,” I paused, “I guess I had bigger hopes for you.” I lower my head, but look back up at him, waiting. Hoping he’ll laugh and say something witty. Or even sarcastic. I could do cute and sarcastic.
He stares at me. He’s trying to look me in the eye, but his eyes are wandering. It’s the leopard tattoo. Guys can’t not look at the tattoo; ergo, guys cannot help follow the tattoo down into my cleavage. By now I’m certain he’s noticed the nipple rings. They all eventually do. He looks up, his face a blank. He smiles. It’s a pleasant smile, but not as cute now. Almost like his mom told him to smile. Then he starts to giggle.
“What?” I smile at him, but I’m starting to think there is something wrong with him.
“Nothing.” He quickly replies. A pause. “I was just thinking about a quote from one of Bukowski’s books.”
“The one about boring people?” I ask. “Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show.”
He stares blankly at me. Clearly not the quote he was thinking of.
He pauses. Eyes darting. “Actually, it’s the one about sex.” he says.
“Hmmm.” Figures. Men. They’re all bastards. He can’t give me two seconds of clever. King. Sex. Should have known. Probably is waiting for the Bush bio to go on sale.
“That will be $14.99 for your King,” I say. End of conversation. What a putz.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
It Ain’t Bragging
2 SEP 06
When you’re really this good.
Okay, that sounds conceited as shit. It’s well known that no one is more conceited than a poker player who is running well. Just look at Daniel Negreanu sometimes. It’s as if he KNOWS he’s better than you. How dare you even THINK you deserve to be in the same room?
Not that I’m comparing myself to Daniel…
***
My $20 experiment continues.
After trying to give most of it away (again), I took $100 into the lions den again (AKA the Muckleshoot). I won’t bore you with the details. Here is a summary:
4/8 – ran $100 up to $260, most of it on my last hand when I turned the nut straight into a six-way full kill (8/16) pot. I took my winnings to...
10/20 – where I ran $260 up to $780 with simple solid play. I took those winnings to...
20/40 - where I continued a good run of cards (twice flopping a set with a pocket pair), and had two of my biggest suckouts ever.
Good players rarely suck out because they rarely get their money in when they have to worst of it, or so says Chris "Jesus" Ferguson.
Hand #1: I look down at AQ on the button in an unraised pot. I raise to $40, and only the small blind calls. Flop is Q J 10. Not great, but TPTK. Check. Bet. Call.
Turn is J Giving me two pair. Check. Bet. Call (!)
River is a Queen giving me the 2nd nuts. What did he have?
Hand #2: I raise in middle position with KQ and get two callers, the button (a very good player) and the big blind (an absolute ATM – I love this guy).
Flop is Q 10 9. I bet. Button raises. Big blind calls. I re-raise. Button calls and big blind calls. Turn is blank. I check (still not sure if this was the right move, but I don’t know how to get more information with a bet here). Button bets. Big blind calls and I call thinking I’m behind.
The river is a beautiful J, giving me the second nut straight. I bet out. Button mucks in disgust and big blind calls. What did they have?
Bottom line. I turned my $100 buy in into $1902, for my best ROI ever.
(Editors note: I got humbled again last night, so my strut now has a little hitch in it.)
When you’re really this good.
Okay, that sounds conceited as shit. It’s well known that no one is more conceited than a poker player who is running well. Just look at Daniel Negreanu sometimes. It’s as if he KNOWS he’s better than you. How dare you even THINK you deserve to be in the same room?
Not that I’m comparing myself to Daniel…
***
My $20 experiment continues.
After trying to give most of it away (again), I took $100 into the lions den again (AKA the Muckleshoot). I won’t bore you with the details. Here is a summary:
4/8 – ran $100 up to $260, most of it on my last hand when I turned the nut straight into a six-way full kill (8/16) pot. I took my winnings to...
10/20 – where I ran $260 up to $780 with simple solid play. I took those winnings to...
20/40 - where I continued a good run of cards (twice flopping a set with a pocket pair), and had two of my biggest suckouts ever.
Good players rarely suck out because they rarely get their money in when they have to worst of it, or so says Chris "Jesus" Ferguson.
Hand #1: I look down at AQ on the button in an unraised pot. I raise to $40, and only the small blind calls. Flop is Q J 10. Not great, but TPTK. Check. Bet. Call.
Turn is J Giving me two pair. Check. Bet. Call (!)
River is a Queen giving me the 2nd nuts. What did he have?
Hand #2: I raise in middle position with KQ and get two callers, the button (a very good player) and the big blind (an absolute ATM – I love this guy).
Flop is Q 10 9. I bet. Button raises. Big blind calls. I re-raise. Button calls and big blind calls. Turn is blank. I check (still not sure if this was the right move, but I don’t know how to get more information with a bet here). Button bets. Big blind calls and I call thinking I’m behind.
The river is a beautiful J, giving me the second nut straight. I bet out. Button mucks in disgust and big blind calls. What did they have?
Bottom line. I turned my $100 buy in into $1902, for my best ROI ever.
(Editors note: I got humbled again last night, so my strut now has a little hitch in it.)
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