PokerStars WBCOOP 2008

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Home is where

I was at my aunts the day after thanksgiving helping her with some computer issues in exchange for lunch. Also noticed she was packing for her move to New Mexico. She can not find a buyer for the place, and I could lease it out from her for almost double what I am paying now, but it would be two miles from the beach instead of twenty five miles like I am now. Two miles! for about the same square footage as I have now, but with an attached garage, nice little yard, and did I mention two miles down a bike path from the beach? Though it is also a little farther from work, and through infamous west side traffic. The rent would jump from fourteen percent of my take home to twenty four percent of my take home pay a month. That would be very reasonable if I didn't have a mini cooper payment and dodger season tickets. Argh. It's available in thirty days. Do I give the current landlady thirty days notice and move? Or just move? Or just decline the offer and stay put. A lot of things to think about this weekend.

Poker Translation

You know all those old poker books that said in a tournament you only need to win one big hand an hour. Well, turns out they were talking about tournaments where the blinds go up only every two hours! If you were in a tournament with fifteen minute levels, you would have to win a big hand ever seven and a half minutes to follow the same guidelines. Who can do that? You are on the button only once every ten minutes or so. Playing good in every position before and after the button in a quick level tournament is even more critical than in one that has two hour level changes. I have some re-thinking to do.

Train for Trains

So, I'm sitting in traffic at a red light and see this huge three car track-testing tunnel-drilling monstronsity right outside my car window. I grab the camera out of my glovebox, roll down the window and snap this quick video of a train that hardly anyone ever sees. It is on the track on first street that is going to part of the new extension to the gold line from downtown LA to East LA. Once they finish, I may start taking this railway line.
Okay, back to work...

Home Game

Some folk I'd been chatting with at the games during the last season took an interest in my poker stories, and invited me over for a home game. Twenty buy in, nickel dime and quarter stakes, nothing fancy. I haven't been playing much so answered, sure, I'll go. A few Thursday night's ago, I show up a couple of minutes late after driving to the beach and back after work, enter meet most of the group, all waiting on one more player after me. They pryed out of me what I like to drink an showed off an ample liquor cabinet ready to supply an alcoholic's every dream. Then they hand me a bottle, with about a third of it left, of a very nice, smooth expensive rum, and ask me if that would be okay. Okay? Would they like me to sing and dance too? Not necessary, I'm assured. Five of us sit down, and we start going after the house rules, dealer's choice of game, pre-shuffling ettiquite and ante's versus blinds sticklers. We went with an ante for every game. And instead of nickel, dime, and quarter, the chip demoninations were quarter, half dollar, and dollar. Raises, no limits. Uh oh, usually home games and card clubs have a three raise limit. This could go over the top. I settle in, with some chips and salsa and rum on ice and the sixth player arrives. A gorgeous woman whom, after conversation goes around a bit, has just gotten rid of her third husband. This is gonna hurt. She sits down on my left and asks the table if anyone would help her out with the rules. The hostess breaks out a tiny book on poker, and turns to the page that describes what hand beats what and hands it to her to use. I'm in trouble. She's cute, she is playing helpless, she is next to me... the last time a cute woman sat next to me at a home game, she ended up taking me home for the weekend after I lost everything. I do not want a repeat performance of that. The weekend was fun and all, but I was broke. An hour into the game, and an hour after I said I would help her out if she was having trouble with any hand that I was not in, I realized that it was all an act. She was, of course, a very good player. This will not be a repeat performance at all, besides, she was blonde, not a red-head. She was still flirting with me, scratching my back, offering to pour another drink from the bottle in front of me, etc. And just as animate with the other two guys and the two hostess. What game she had. Playing weak when she was strong, watching folk fold to her huge raises. An impressive performance. I lost a big hand to her four-of-a-kind when holding aces full of kings, without using wild cards. That got to me. I got up, walked around, got some ice, some snacks, and resolved to stick to my game. An hourly bluff, an hourly showing of a strong hand, a lot of folding. For the most part, it worked. She ended up the big winner with three times her buy-in, I finished fifty percent up, the other two women were out of chips, and the other two guys each finished twenty five percent down. All in all, a fun few hours with new friends. I was the first to go, since my alarm was going off at five the next morning to get ready for work. I can't wait to do it all again, and hope that they invite me in a couple of months to their next game.

Be a Budget Hero

Care to take on the national debt? Raise taxes? Defend the borders? test yourself now:

I'll answer that

Phone? What phone? Last Saturday afternoon I heard a pop outside my window, but did not think much of it. Noticed the WAN light was out on my wireless router/modem and thought, it will be back later. Sunday morning, still no WAN light, reseated cables, powered router off and back on, waited. Blinky blinky, no steady on. Damn. Went to call my provider. No dial tone. Hmmm. Maybe it's a neighborhood thing and will be back on later. Went out on the balcony and looked out. No neighbors out and about to ask. Must be all watching football or something. So back in I go and keep an ear on a couple of games while working around the apartment. Monday morning. No dial tone and no internet service. Argh. Go to work, report the issue. They can not tell what is wrong over the phone and have to send someone out. Tuesday afternoon between noon and four PM. Fine. Call my landlady for access. She says okay, but she has to go to the store that afternoon. I thank her and go back to work. Tuesday afternoon the phone company repair tech calls and says he'll be there in a few minutes after three PM. I say fine, my landlady has access if you need it. I called landlady and advised her. She says great, I've been waiting all afternoon and I'm gonna kick his butt! I broke out laughing, thanked her again, and went back to work. Haven't heard a thing since. After dinner with a co-worker I stroll in around eight thirty or so. Place is dark, no tenants out and I pull in and go upstairs. Dial tone! Turn on the router/modem. Blinky for a minute, then steady on WAN light! Cool, I'm a happy puppy. Check messages, one on Saturday, mom on Sunday, and a hangup today. Why could I not get these from voicemail yesterday from work? Oh well, have to go and call mom now, just thought I'd tell you first, I'm back....

End of 50 years in LA

I'm feeling a little better now. Dodgers still lost the NLCS for 2008, but some foolish mortal decided to invite me to the after party in this huge tent in the parking lot outside the stadium club after the game. I was found sulking at the bar going over the game with a few other patrons when one of the bartenders says to me, 'George wants to talk to you'. Usually that means he wants to buy someone a drink, or give you his business card, or just catch up before heading out. This time, as I was finishing up the current conversation, George couldn't wait and walked over and handed me the ticket to the party, seen to the upper left here. Wasn't sure what it was, but I said sure, I'll see him there, and introduced him to the others that were discussing that were also discussing the game at the bar. When all that broke up, I asked one of the security guards I knew if she thought it was going to be a good party to go to. She assured me it would be worth my time, so I left the comfortable stadium club and walked outside to the tent's entrance. The music was very loud, and a dj was having fun playing a safe mix. Video screens everywhere showing slides of various dodger activities and events throughout the last year. Saw a lot of folk I've met at various game through the last few seasons. Four open bars, half a dozen tables of finger food and dodger dogs all laid out. I had fun celebrating and commiserating and eating and getting a bottle of water at the bar. Already had enough to drink earlier. Took a short video and a few pictures. You can see them on my flickr page from the badge on the right. Shook Rick Monday's hand. He's the announcer, former player, that when he was with the cubs, picked up a usa flag from two protesters in center field of dodger stadium who were trying to light it on fire. His success and their failure makes him a hero in my mind, and I thanked him for it. Not sure if he heard everything I said, but he was patient, understanding and I went away happy.

Tough Loss

I'm so sad. One because of the idiot first timers sitting in the row in front of us who had no idea we were season ticket holders and were standing up in front of us at all the wrong times. Two because the Dodgers lost at home and are now behind three games to one in a best of seven series. Three because of traffic downtown after getting off of work at five PM and not getting to the game until six PM in rush hour plus game traffic for a five twenty two start time when it normally takes me all of ten minutes to get there. And four, because I wanna be. I'll cheer up in time for Wednesday night's game. Promise.