5 Mayo 2006: Viva Mexico, Bitches:

In Theory, This Could Hurt: Out of all of the heavy hitters in the poker crew, I'm the one who can least absorb a huge beating. Why? Because poetry, it turns out, is not a money maker. Who knew? How come I didn't get cc'ed on that?

There's a Limit: I've always told myself that the most that I would lose in our poker game was $300; as soon as I hit that number, I would just become a spectator. I've had some pretty bad nights at our game, having lost around $150 a couple of times, and once dropping $181, but those were exceptional nights (but not in a good way). A bad night for me meant losing, maybe, $100.

But that was with the old limits. Back in the day (about two months ago), you might find yourself invested into a pot for $25 maybe once or twice a night, three times, tops. Now, you might find yourself in for $25 or more eight or nine times, and those are on good plays. Lose enough of those, and you'll see that you can drop a few hundred in no time, and without having misplayed a hand.

It Was Like I Had Magical Powers: Holding Q-3, I hit the boat when the flop lands 3-3-Q. I start attacking right away because the only way that my hand gets better is if I see a Q or a 3 come down; every other card, except for a deuce, has the potential to hurt me. Jesse goes right with me, but he doesn't raise. I'm not too worried; Jesse plays a lot of hands, so I put him on some kind of draw. Besides, I know that I'm leading because only pocket queens are better than my hand, and Jesse, not being one to slow play, would raise with that hand.

The turn is a jack, but I'm still in great shape, though I also lose to pocket jacks now. I bet it, and Jesse calls. The river is a jack, pairing with the other jack already on the board. The last thing I needed was for the board to pair because there are a bunch of hands that hurt me now. Jesse is the first to act, and he bets the $5. Up to this point, Jesse had just been calling my bets, so he's either on a straight bluff or caught the card that he needed. At this point, I'm already in for about $15, and there had been some players who had paid into the pot pre- and post-flop, so there are much chips in play. The thing is, I knew that I was beat. Still, I'm heavily invested in the pot, and it's only going to cost me an additional $5 for the showdown.

As I put my $5 green chip into the pot, I say to Jesse, "Fuck, I know that you've got Q-J, but I flopped a boat." Jesse turns over the Q-J that he's holding and that made him the runner runner J-J-J-Q-Q boat. He had made top pair on the flop, so he wasn't going away after that, no matter how hard that I pushed. The river gave him two pair, queens and jacks, so he wasn't folding then, either. At the end, the only card that could possibly have helped him was one of the two remaining jacks, which meant that he had a two to twenty-six chance of hitting his card.

This was one of those situations where two players did exactly what they should have and the person who was behind in the hand caught up in the end. I didn't feel too bad about losing the hand because I had played it as well as I could have, and there was nothing more that I could have done, except maybe hit Jesse with a chair and grab all of his chips, but that seemed impolite to me.

The cool thing was that I could tell what Jesse was holding by the way that he played the hand and by his demeanor. I pointed out my great read to everybody else, and I said that losing a nice chunk of my chips was worth it. Yeah, I didn’t believe it, either.

There Go the Burritos: I'm not proud of this, but I live on frozen burritos. I gave up on cooking a long time ago (I haven't turned on a stove in over five years) because I did the math and I figured out that I could save hours and hours every week that I could then convert for other uses, mostly reading and writing. Think about it: I get home, throw a few burritos in the microwave while I get changed and ready for poetic and/or fictional business, and then I can eat at my computer. Food prep takes me a minute. Cool, right?

Everybody in the crew knows about and disapproves of my idiotic diet. I know that it’s unhealthy, but I don’t care. In fact, I care so little that I took an opportunity during the game to make a joke. What happened was that I lost a hand into which I had invested $18 and then I said, “There goes a month of burritos.” I buy those bad boys in big-ass bags, and four bags get me through a month. You might be thinking that day after goddam day of burritos would be or become a drag, but at least it beats the year of cup o’ noodles.

Like I said, I’m not proud.

The Total: I made $98.00, brought my YTD Total to +$459.50, and upped my overall record to 12-6.


7 May 2006

I Should Know Better: I get the call at around four o’ clock that there’s going to be barbecue at Bert’s, and that maybe, just maybe, a poker game might break out. He tells me who’s invited, most of the poker crew, so, no shit, there’s gonna be poker.

Ordinarily, I would say yes in a second—poker and barbecue, word up—but I had a hell of a week at work, so I didn’t write much Monday through Wednesday, not at all on Thursday, played poker on Friday, wrote a little on Saturday, but planned to make up for it with a solid session on Sunday. I tell Bert that I have to go to dinner with the familia (whom I hardly ever see; thanks a lot, crummy adult-style life) and then to work.

Cool. Not a big deal. But then, when I get to my parents’ house, my big bro’s there and he asks if I’m going to Bert’s later. I say that I can’t because I need to work. Still cool. But then I get another call about forty minutes later that the poker crew’s at Bert’s. I say that I really need to work. I get another call. I’m not made of strong stuff. I’m weak in mind and spirit.

I get there and go to the back yard for the food and/or bullshitting. Who walks in a few minutes after I got there? Jesse. With his arrival, we have the classic five on the scene: My big bro, Bert, Jesse, Ivan, and Big Daddy (I’m “Big Daddy”).

The Break-Up Rule: As you may have noticed, Ivan, poker player deluxe and designer/programmer/host of this here website, hadn't been mentioned too often on my Poker Blog for much of the last few months. He had been chin-deep in a thing with a girl, but, now, not so much.

I asked if this was the first big break-up, and he said that it was. I responded by saying that they’d be back together shortly because the first bad break-up is just like dress rehearsal or like wrestling practice matches: like the real thing, but not really. More accurately, though, it’s like trying to buy a car at a dealership: all bluff and posturing.

“I’ll walk away right now if I don’t get the tinted windows for free.”

“I can’t do that, sir.”

“I demand, then, the deluxe stereo package, or I will seek satisfaction elsewhere.”

“That, sir, is an impossibility.”

“Can I at least get some floor mats?”

“I can give them to you for a two-percent discount.”

“I’ll take it! In your face!”

They’ll Give a License to Anyone: Seriously, just because you can pass a multiple-choice exam and a driving test does not really mean that you're a good driver, and when I say “good driver” I mean one who doesn’t slow me down when I’m trying to get somewhere in a hurry. I’ve got this slight obsession with not wasting time, and I must have missed two lights when I got stuck behind slow-moving or indecisive drivers. That’s about three minutes of my life that I wasted.

I believe that it is one’s moral obligation, if you look in your rear-view mirror and see more than two cars behind you, to haul ass. That’s just common courtesy.

Nothing Ever Changes: It had been about a month since I’d been to Bert’s for barbecue/poker, and I had gotten pounded. This time, while I continued my barbecue/poker losing streak, the pounding wasn’t as bad. It was more like a delicate kick to the ribs. I lost $33, my YTD Total went to +$426.50, and the won-loss is at 12-7.


12 May 2006

Classic Jesse: Jesse is a pot builder deluxe: blind pre-flop bets, betting junk cards, a caller with medium-high hands. The thing is, though, that there's no back-down, no reverse gear at our game. If you're going to attack, and another player has good cards, he's going to push back, and hard.

Tonight, Jesse, inexplicably, stopped his blind pre-flop betting. The thing is that I like Jesse's pre-flop betting because, if I have good cards, I can use him to get in a check-raise or to smooth-call a throat-cutter hand and attack at the end. I started saying, "You've changed, dude." I also said, "What happened to 'Classic Jesse'?" What happened, I think, is that Jesse figured out that blind-betting early or raising with junk cards was netting out as a loss for him, something that I've known (but kept to myself [he's my boy, but business is business]) for a long time.

The reason that these have been losing plays for Jesse is that we’ve got some pretty tough players at our game, and most of them won’t come off of a hand if they’ve got something nice, even if there have been maximum bets made at them. If you push, they will push back, which is one of the reasons that our game is both so tough and so much fun.

The Classic Six: Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, made his return appearance after two months away. That he had been gone so long had been a bit of a surprise to us all.

From October through late-February, he had been one of our most regular players, missing only one or two games. In fact, he was so consistently there that I had started to think of adding him to what I think of as the core group of our game—my big bro, Bert, Ivan, Jesse, and Big Daddy (I'm "Big Daddy")—what I call the Classic Five.

Whenever Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, joined this core group, I was going to call it the Classic Six. At this point Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, had been playing in our game for over half a year, so I thought that perhaps it was close to being time. I know that six months is a long time, but, because I'm no good at commitment, I wasn't quite there yet.

Thankfully, I didn't go there because that was exactly when Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, disappeared. Why do people always have to hurt you when you're ready to commit?

Still, it was good to see him back. It was really good, because I took a ton of money off of him in hand after hand after hand. This was cool because Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, has consistently taken my money ever since he had joined us. He had just had me figured out, and, at the showdown, his cards were usually better than mine.

Tonight, however, I check-raised him into oblivion, and he called every time. Twice, he was on bluffs after fifth. Both times, my hand hadn't improved after the flop, but I had been pretty sure that I had been leading up until then and that there was still a good chance that I had had the winning hand. After his fifth-street $5 bets, I had called him and turned over my cards. Both times, he was throwing his cards into the muck as I was turning over mine because he had been on busted draws.

The Last Hand of the Night: When I'm dealt into the announced last hand of the game, I tend to want to call any and all bets because I want to get to the showdown; folding before that is just anti-climactic.

I had dealt out Omaha, and I called the $1.50 pre-flop bet from Jesse. On the flop, I made top pair, but it was only sevens, though I did have an ace kicker. It checked around to Jesse, who bet it up. I thought that this may have been a bluff, but any pocket pair higher than a seven beat me, and there were a ton of straight draws out there of which I didn't have any piece.

It was the last hand, though, and I wanted to stay in just to stay in. Trying to be the solid player that I want to be, I fought through that feeling and managed to fold my cards.

What lands on the turn? An ace, which would have given me top two pair, a really strong hand with which I would have had to have called any bets and raises. Jesse bets, Bert, inventor of the Bert Classic and rumor mongering, calls, and we're ready for the river. A seven.

A goddamed seven. If I would have stayed in, I would have had the 7-7-7-A-A boat.

I had folded a winner. Some players would have called with top pair, no matter how low it was, but after Jesse had bet and Bert, inventor of the Bert Light and third-stream music, had called, my call would have been an over-call, which would have meant my top pair probably wasn't very strong and that I would have had two players against which to draw while I was probably behind. Even though the fold cost me about $20 in profit on the hand, it was probably still a good play. At least that's what I'm going to tell myself.

It's Brutal: I always buy in for an even hundred. Depending on the breaks, that first hundred will last for the entire game. My limit for a game is $300, and ONLY ONCE have I had to put the third $100 in play. Rarely have I gone to the second hundred. If I have, it usually was when we were deep into the game.

Tonight, most of the first $100 was gone in the first hour. About fifty-five minutes in, I looked down to about $28. With the new limits, that might not be enough to get me to a showdown if I thought that I had a winning hand. I went to my man bag and got out the second $100.

It's amazing, really, what can become normal. There was a time when going to the second $100 so early would have been frightening and/or dispiriting, but now, it didn't mean a thing other than that I had gotten the worst of it in a few hands.  I knew that I could catch up with three or four hands that turned out differently.

And, as soon as I loaded my twenty green chips onto my stacks, I started winning hands. Soon, I was only down sixty, then forty, then I was close to even before I finally broke into the black.

By about 11:00 p.m., I was up nearly a hundred, which meant that I had had a $172 turnaround. Then I lost a few hands, but I still had another profitable night, making $62.50 for the game, upping my YTD Total to +$489.00, and, lifting my overall record to 13-7.


20 May 2006  

As Hardcore As It Gets: There are five players. The buy-ins total $453.  At the end of the night, three players, heavy-hitters all, leave empty-handed. The other two players split the money almost evenly in half

Goddam: With the new betting limits, the pots are creeping up and up. Tonight saw the biggest Omaha High-Low pot that we've ever had. There were four players in for $20 after the flop, five more after the turn, and five after the river. Counting the pre-flop action, the pot got up to $131. I'll be honest, it got a little tense, and I was glad that I had chickened out after the flop and didn't pay more than $20 into the pot. At the showdown, my big bro and Jesse split the pot, which means that each one had more than doubled the $32 that he had paid into the pot.

Three-Way Action: It's not what you think, pervert. My big bro and Ivan, poker player deluxe and the designer/programmer/host of this here website have already left. It's down to Bert, inventor of the Bert Classic and the jump stop, Jesse, and Big Daddy (I'm "Big Daddy").

Bert's dealing Omaha and I get dealt K-K-4-3, suited diamonds and spades to my kings. I've got the second-best pair, two monster flush draws, and even a low straight draw. Usually, I'd slow-play this hand, but Bert, inventor of the Bert Light and condensation, bets out the $4. I make it $9 to go, hoping to knock out Jesse and maybe even get Bert, inventor of the Bert Death Spiral and modern dance, to fold. Instead, he re-raises to $14.

Bert will occasionally make a play, and he might not have anything, so I could re-raise to the $19, but he's going to call no matter what he's holding; he's already got too much money in play to not call. Another alternative is that he's got a good hand, at least a high pair with high flush or high straight draws, so the hand's going to end at the showdown. Finally, he could already have me beat if he's holding pocket aces and the board bricks out for the both of us.

I decide to just call his final pre-flop raise. The flop misses me except for one diamond that gives me a runner runner flush draw. I check, Bert bets $5, and I call. The turn is a "3," which, while it gives me a second pair to work toward three-of-a-kind, also ruins my diamond flush draw.  I'd rather have seen a diamond than a "3" because then I'd have nine outs to a flush that would probably win instead of four outs to either a set of kings or trip threes, either of which might not be any good. Again, Bert bets the $5, but all I can do is call.

The river is another "3," giving me my trip threes. Bert bets the $5 again and I call, pretty sure both that Bert has pocket aces (because the board was all junk and he's been attacking the whole way) and that I've won when the worst card in my hand hit runner runner for trip threes. I turn over my cards as I say to Bert that he's not going to like what I've got.  Sure enough, Bert shows his pocket aces, one of which would have given him the nut club flush, a monster hand that didn't lose to my pocket kings or to my flush draws, but to that aforementioned "3." Bert paid $29 into the pot and so did I, and neither of us had made a bad play, but I took the pot. Sometimes, that's how poker goes.

I Avoid Disaster?: Whenever I play at Bert's I tend to lose. If there's been barbecue, there's a greater chance that I'll lose. Whenever we play on a non-Friday, the odds of my losing are greater. Whenever Ivan plays, I also tend to lose. Tonight's game is on a Saturday, it's at Bert's, there's been barbecuing (tasty-ass burgers and hot dogs), and Ivan's there. Theoretically, then, I should lose all of my money.

What Happened to Friday?: My big bro months ago got us tickets to all  of these performances at the Saroyan Theater, and we had tickets for a performance of Verdi's Otello. (Instant Review: Meh.) The best part was the performance by the dude who played Othello. Really, though, it'd be pretty hard to botch that role. I could probably play it and kill, and I can't even sing or act. I bet you, though, that I’d look killer in the costume.

As Hardcore As It Gets, part II: Like I said, only two players cashed in any chips. One of those players was Bert. He cashed out $227, and he had bought in for $60, so he made $167 in profit. I had bought in for $100, and I cashed in $226 in chips, which means that I made $126. This means that the other three players lost $293 between them. Like I said:  brutal. My YTD Total went from the high $400’s right into the low $600’s, +$615.00, skipping entirely the $500’s, and my overall record’s now at 14-7.


26 May 2006

Like a Schmuck: There was a time when the game started promptly at 7:00 p.m. We'd play until two in the morning, which meant seven hours of quality poker. Now, somehow, the start time's been pushed back to 8:00 p.m. Not too bad; still plenty of poker action. So I'm chilling at my big bro's, after having gotten the snacks on the snack table and the chips and poker table set up, waiting for the start time. It's not until almost 9:20 p.m. that we finally have enough players to start up.

If I had a different life, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but instead of spending almost two hours just lounging around, I could have been reading or writing. In other words, I've lost 110 minutes that I could have used much more productively. Son of a bitch.

It Was Looking Ugly/It’s All About Copyright Protection: I dropped the first fifty in about a half hour, and I was down the rest of the night. I had been up for a few hands at the very start, but that would be the only time the entire night that I had extra chips in front of me. Pretty soon, I had to go to my man bag to pull out the "Second Hundred" (Copyright 2006 Blas Manuel De Luna and www.blasmanueldeluna.com) in case I got sucked into a hand and dropped the rest of my "First Hundred" (Copyright 2006 Blas Manuel De Luna and www.blasmanueldeluna.com) and was left without chips. Soon enough, I had converted the "Second Hundred" (Copyright 2006 Blas Manuel De Luna and www.blasmanueldeluna.com) into twenty green $5 chips. It wasn't too long before even the "Second Hundred" (Copyright 2006 Blas Manuel De Luna and www.blasmanueldeluna.com) was in play. For a while, I was down over $120, but it never got worse than that.

It Gets Testy: Mostly, I've been on a winning streak and I have an overall record of 14-7. On the recent occasions when I have had a losing night, I tended not to lose all that much, and I hadn't been the big loser in quite a while. So, even though I was taking an ass-kicking, Jesse had been taking a worse one.

Jesse had lost his first buy-in after surviving five all-ins. On the sixth, my pocket queens held up against his pocket jacks, and he said that he was going to take a little break. Sometimes, that's just what you need, a chance to step away and gather yourself before you jump back into the fray. After a few minutes, though, he re-buys for another twenty. Soon enough, he's almost back to even and I have just become the big loser, what I like to call "the bitch," as in, the big loser is everybody else's bitch.

I noted to Jesse how tricky and amazing poker is—my big bro had been down but was getting close to even; Ivan, poker player deluxe and programmer/designer/host of this here website, had been down a little, then up a decent amount, but ended up losing a not-too-painful-but-still-unpleasant total; Bert, inventor of the Bert Classic and the osoto gari, killed the entire night and made a little over $100 in profits (counting last week, Bert's made $270 in a little over six days)—how he had been the bitch for most of the night but that I had somehow become the bitch.

That was when Jesse said, "Don't call me a bitch. I'm not a bitch." That was when I said, "Okay, maybe you're not a bitch, but you were exhibiting 'bitch-like' tendencies," which got a good laugh. Jesse rejoindered by reminding me about the many times that I've noted my surprise at the fact that we've never had a punch-up at our game, which just goes to show you, no matter how much money somebody has just lost, what a classy group of guys we are. At this point, Jesse seemed pretty serious, but if I had acted all weak, I would have been punked at the poker table in front of my homies.

In counter-point to Jesse's last comment, I said, "I’m scrappy, dude. I'll hit you with a chair," which is probably the only way that I'd have a chance of not having Jesse beat me into blissful and semi-permanent unconsciousness.

My "scrappy/chair attack" bit got tons of laughter, and, as one who will extend a bit until the laughs just stop coming and the room grows uncomfortably quiet, I said, "I'll smack you up with my Civic," which got even more laughs.

Jesse, by the way, had been joking. Thank Christ, because he’s a few inches taller than I am, and about a hundred pounds heavier.

Damn It: I lost $76, my YTD Total’s at +$539.00, and the won-loss record’s dropped to 14-8.


28 May 2006

Sunday Morning, Chilling Out: It’s Sunday morning, and I’ve got my day planned: do nothing, continue doing nothing, take a break, then go back to doing nothing. I’ve been working hard at it for the past few years, and I’m getting to be pretty good at doing nothing. Around five, however, I had planned to get some writing done. It’s been stressful down at the plant, and I’ve not had the energy nor the time to really get deeply invested into the writing because, no joke, even under the best circumstances, it ain’t easy.

Then, around noon, I get a call from Bert, inventor of the Bert Classic and polyurethane, seeing if I’d be down to play some poker later on that day.

Poker…poetry…poker…poetry. It’s a hard call, and it takes me almost a hundredth of a second to make it. Poker it is, but, since I’m the first to get called and the first to say yes, Bert, inventor of the Bert Light and the Latinate languages, tells me that he’ll call back if he can find enough players. Yeah, that’s going to be as hard as finding evil in the Republican Party: not hard at all. (In your face, Republican bastards.)

Whom did Bert, inventor of the Bert Death Spiral and the ride cymbal, find? Ivan, poker player deluxe and designer/programmer/host of this here website; Jesse; Oscar; Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy; and Big Daddy (I’m “Big Daddy”).

The Fist Tap: I had only wanted to play until the usual time—1:35-ish—but since most of us had Monday off from work, the other dudes wanted to go later. 2:00 a.m. came and went. I shouldn’t even be playing to begin with, so I made them “Fist Tap” for a 2:30 quitting time. If you're not familiar with the “Fist Tap,” it’s when you tap fists in greeting (“What’s up, homeslice?), in acknowledgement of something “awesome (“Goddam, that guy really ate it into that dumpster.”),” or to seal a deal (“Yes, the game will end at 2:30 a.m.”).

Who Died and Made You King?: So everybody fist tapped it out for 2:30. Everybody, that is, except for Jesse. He refused. Still four of the five remaining players had agreed, so it seems like we’re solid on quitting at the agreed upon time. It’s a binding contract, so what’s Jesse going to do, play solitary poker?

Why did Jesse want to keep open the option of playing later than 2:30?? Because he’d dropped a ton of money. The thing about Jesse is that he’s pretty good at getting his way. When it got to 2:30, he said “three o’ clock” and everybody kept on playing. When it got to three o’ clock, he said “3:30 at the latest” and everybody kept on playing.

What the hell? Does no one respect the fist tap?

Rolling Big: Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy, drives a BMW. Yeah, he’s loaded. When Bert’s family gets home, they note the beauty of the aforementioned vehicle that’s currently parked in their driveway. Shawn Gee, the artist formerly known as Pumpkin Boy,being a classy and humble guy, even if it turns out that his word is absolutely worthless, graciously, but non-jerkily, acknowledged their automobile-related compliments.

I’ll admit that I was feeling a little left out, so I said, “I have a Civic.” That bad boy’s a '92 and it’s a little beat up (the last incident was when I got rear-ended in downtown Vancouver while I was in the middle of the Pacific Northwest Museum Tour with ACWLP, my grad school buddy/first reader and a bad-ass blogger), but I love it. It’s got 178,000+ miles on it and I’ve taken that sumbitch to Wisconsin and back, to Canada a couple of times, and to Las Vegas about five times, and it’s always been cool.

My Automobile Theory: The only cars that really need to be purchased by decent and honorable people are Civics (singles and couples) and Accords (one or two kids), maybe an Odyssey if you’ve got a bunch of kids. Think about it: Hondas are beautifully engineered, well made, fiscally responsible, and environmentally sound, especially if you go hybrid. If you’re a little daring, maybe you can go Toyota, but that’s about it in terms of acceptable cars.

In all automobile purchases, we’ve got to stick it to the man: oil and insurance companies and the manufacturers of SUVs. None of these corporations are good for anybody or anything except themselves, and we shouldn't be their bitches.

Finally, anybody driving an SUV is a dick. Feel free to tell them that I said so.

Science Versus Voodoo: I’m a math guy. I don’t go on “hunches” or “inklings” or “feelings” or any of that shit. I don’t listen to “higher powers” or a “little voice in my head” when I'm making a play at the poker table. But there are a couple of guys at our game who will do exactly that, and two of them gave me some pretty bad beats when they called my big pre-flop bets with junk hands and then caught to take my chips. One dude played 3-5 off-suit and hit two pair on the flop to crack my pocket queens,

That was when, after I had been dealt a lousy hand, I said “The Lord commands me to call your four-dollar bet,” in the style of those Sunday morning preachers with the helmet hair, insincere shtick, big mansions, and a complete lack of a proper set of ethics. I lost those hands, too.

The Big Winner: It’s me. At 2:30, I had been up about $70. We kept playing and I was only up about $25, then back up to $103, then down to $25, but I closed it out on a winning streak and ended up making $102.25.

I had already had a pretty good May before tonight. I had made a little over $175 and had gone 3-2, but with tonight’s total I’m up $279.75 and at 4-2 for the month. The YTD total is at +$641.25 and the overall record’s at 15-8.

Every year, my goal is to clear a grand by the end of December. Last year, I got close twice but had a horrible December and came up $189.75 short. This year, after only five months, I’m already 64.13% of the way there. I only have to make $358.75 over the next seven months, which means that I have to clear $51.25 a month for the rest of the year.

I don’t want to say that it’s a lock, but it is a lock.