Saturday, June 26, 2004

This was my week to sluff off dealing…and I did. I played three out of five nights in $4-$8 Holdem. Two wins, one loss, up a tad in $$, up a lot in fun and meeting new people.

Play #1. I met Steve, Nick, Derrick, and Randall in the same game.

Nick came cruising back to the table puffing on a cigar bigger than he is and I exclaimed, “Sir, this is a non-smoking room!”

He stopped, while the smoke wrapped around him, and asked the player in the 3s if it really was non-smoking. The player told him yes and then Nick tried to stop the cocktail waitress to see if he could drop the giant, smoldering, stench log into a cup on her tray. It was a no go so Nick had to head back out of the room to get rid of it. The smell lingered for a good ten minutes…ugh!

Nick swore, flipped chips, and acted like a big buffoon, but finally settled down and got to know us and we had a pretty good time. After all, he just turned 21, how the hell is he supposed to know how to act in a poker room?

Steve sat next to me and we visited through a few hours. Derrick and Randall were pretty low key and quiet, but then anyone was low key and quiet compared to Nick.

I met John on my way to the Cashier. We stood in line and visited for a few minutes. He’d seen me the day before and wanted to know if ‘this was me’. He just moved here from CA.

Play #2. I had to sit next to Paul (3s), grouch of the world, mad when he wins, mad when he loses…identified by two strange little frogs he puts on the table when he plays. Sometimes he has them stacked on top of each other…yes, as if they’re mating.

Paul can’t take a beat without going ballistic. When he takes a beat (even if it isn’t ugly) he stomps off to the outer realm of Casino Land. When he wins, he laughs and cackles and talks up his play and how he got there and how he thought about how he got there. Oh drear. Shut up and stack the chips already.

He got on my case because he wanted me to move closer to the 1s and squash him into the Dealer. I refused. Paul had a fit about his space and kept telling me to move over, although he had five inches between my arm and his, he wasn’t happy. I really wasn’t either because he’s never spent a dime on deoderant, but I wasn’t giving up my little piece of green felt to make him happy.

Every time Paul had a fit, two guys at the other end of the table started laughing and looked at me. I, of course, started laughing too. They did their best to beat Paul in every hand…usually he beat himself.

Steve (from the night before) sat down in this game in the 4s. Paul mumbled and grumbled to Steve about everything and Steve did his best to tune Paul out.

I made one hand in this game…this was the losing night. I picked up Q-Q and raised. I got Steve and a couple of other callers. The Flop was 10-8-?. Steve bet, everyone folded to me, I raised, Steve raised, and I called.

The Turn was a Queen, Steve checked, I bet, he called. The River was a Jack and Steve checked. So did I. Steve had 10-10. He flopped a Set and I turned a bigger one. My first and last pot in about four hours. Hell no, I’m not crying, it’s just the way poker goes.

Two youngsters from TX sat down, one took the 1s and one took the 5s. They were both pretty quiet and didn’t do much in chip movement for awhile. The 1s and I talked about the NLH Tournament that’s in progress now at Bellagio. Then the two of them ended up heads up, one flopped a set of Fours, the other flopped a set of Kings. They were cute in their banter back and forth and play against each other…no holds barred on their betting and raising.

Play #3. I had to deal Table 1 before I got out to play. It was $800-$1,600 Mixed game and Curtis was in the 8s, losing and crying. It took a tremendous amount of control on my part to remain calm and not lip off to him as he ‘thanked me’ when he lost, made all kinds of comments about never tipping again, and ‘I knew she’d put the card up that could beat me’, and on and on and on.

The table has an automatic shuffler and a different deck was in play every hand but I did it to him.

Once in an 8 or Better hand, when he was heads up with Jennifer, she raised on 6th Street, he threw his bet out and one of his $500 chips bounced into her bets in front of her. I took the $500 and put it back in the bets in front of him. Yet when the hand was over and they split the pot, he asked her to count down the chips in front of her because he was sure one of his $500 chips had gone into her stack of bets.

I told him that I had put it back in front of him and he complained that he couldn’t believe anything good would happen to him and he was going to count it down anyway.

Well, ok then. They counted down their bets and they were equal. But nothing was ever said about that.

I knew I was getting out of the line-up at 8 p.m. A new dealer went past me to Table 2 because they were taking my place. I was about two minutes from getting pushed and Curtis stopped Carmen, “Carmen, the push went right on by her. They didn’t even come here.”

Carmen stopped and looked at me. I finally said, “I’m getting out of the line-up on the push, Carmen.” She walked off.

I wanted to let Curtis stew over the fact that it’s really none of his business…as in who gets pushed by who and what/who runs the line-up, but I didn’t want Carmen to take any heat. That’s the only reason I said anything.

WELL on to Play #3. I had a lot of fun. I met, Mike, Victor, and Joe…all youngsters that laughed and played poker. I got lucky on a few hands and picked up $$$.

One of our dealers, Joe E., got in the game for a brief play and put the straddle on it when he was UTG.

I was fortunate enough not to pick up any hands during that time period…it’s sort of like the calf being led to slaughter. The chips are flying and the worst hand before the Flop is usually going to win.

There was a lot of banter and Mike was a kick. You’d have to be there to get into the full swing of it.

The 6s…sheesh, I have to find out this guys name…mentioned in the June 23rd post as the 8s, was in this game. He talked nonstop. He had Doyle’s book, Super Systems, that he pulled out of a case. The book had no covers and was worn and ragged.

He said he’s had it for 20 some years and read and read and read, except the part written by Bobby Baldwin (except he referred to Bobby as the President of this place). He had a page out of the book that was tattered and folded and falling apart. He showed it to everyone. It has Bobby Baldwin’s and David Sklansky’s autograph on it. He wants Doyle’s and Chip’s autograph too.

It was motion and commotion for the few hours I spent there. Then…the Time Clock, the heat of the night, the cooling calmness of my home and two days off. Thank you, GOD!

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

I’ve often wondered how I would handle being skilled in the art of magic or having celestial power. I’m sure God knew what he was doing when he made me mortal. He knew I wouldn’t be able to handle all that power and I might just send the Card Fairy out after a few poker playing dolts. Well damn it, they deserve it.

1) J.J. He’s mentioned a few weeks ago because he’s being the brattiest of the brats and meaner than hell lately. I hit a $30-$60 Holdem game and the 3s is walking. Half way through my down, Mr. Wonderful appears. None other than J.J. himself.

J.J loses a hand. The 4s wins the pot and throws me a $1.

J.J. barks, “That’s just what you deserve.”

The 4s throws me another $1.

J.J. growls, “If I win a pot, I’m going to give you fifty cents.”

Swear to God, I just busted out laughing. He thinks he’s killing me by threatening me with a fifty cent tip, I think he’s ridiculous.

A few minutes later, the action is to the 2s and J.J. throws his hand away. I said, “Hold your hand until he acts, please.”

J.J., “He was reaching.”

Me, “Reaching does not constitute action.”

J.J., “Then tell him to hurry up and not make me wait for him.”

Me, “I will not.”

J.J., “You should tell him to play faster.”

Me, “I should do no such thing. Just act in turn.”

Woops! Guess I just cost myself fifty cents. Come on Card Fairy…

2) $4-$8 Holdem, only two familiar faces in a ten handed game.

The 4s (one of the familiar faces) plays occasionally and is never a big hit in terms of being friendly and getting along with everyone. He’s more prone to cause a problem than he is to help solve one.

The 6s had no idea what it was to him or when it was his turn to act and had to ask “how much?” every time the bet came to him but he wanted to play every hand and he did.

The 8s (one of the familiar faces) has been playing for about two months and he plays every night and likes to sing, chortle, joke, chuckle, gee-haw, and in general have a good time while he drinks and plays poker…this doesn’t make him a bad guy, it’s just that everyone always knows when he’s in the game.

The 10s was a youngster, drunk, belligerent and not having a very good time.

The first hand I dealt, the 6s asked, “How much?” when the action came to him.

Immediately the 4s chimed in, “You can raise it!”

The 10s said, “He’s a retard, how can he not know how much it is?”

I asked both the 4s and the 10s to stop. I went to the 6s and got through the first hand with him asking me, every time, what the bet was to him.

We went to hand #2, same story, the 10s kept mumbling the 6s was a retard. I told the 10s that was enough and it was to stop now. The 4s chimed in again, “You can raise.”

Everytime the 4s and the 10s opened their mouth, the 6s was confused and didn’t know what to do.

I went into a semi-fit. “That’s enough! Stop making comments and let me answer his questions.”

The 4s said, “He played all night last night, there’s no way he doesn’t know what the bet is.”

I went almost ballistic. “I don’t care if he’s played the last six months. When he asks me how much the bet is, I’m going to tell him and you are going to stop.”

Now the 10s got really cute. As soon as the bet came to him, he asked, “How much?”

I told him, he asked again, I told him, he asked again. I said, “You will either stop now and play the game or I’m calling the Floor Person.”

He repeated, “How much is it to me?”

Tang was the Front Brush and I yelled, “Tang! Tang! Get Kamell for me.”

Tang called Kamell over the microphone.

I had dealt the hole cards and had the deck in my hand. I sat and waited.

The 8s pointed to the 10s and said, “He’s ok! He’s been drinking. He’s just having fun. You can deal.”

By now I was wishing I was the Card Fairy…splat, flip, boom, pow!

I said, “NO. We’ll wait.”

Kamell arrived. I told him the 4s kept interrupting with a challenge that the 6s seat could raise, each time the 6s asked me how much the bet was to him. And the 10s kept calling the 6s a retard and I’d asked him to stop and he wouldn’t. And now the 10s refused to do anything other than ask how much it was to him and wouldn’t act on his hand.

The 10s immediately apologized. Kamell told them all that they would behave and play cards. (I say slap them with a little mischevious, devious trick on their cards, Card Fairy!)

The 10s immediately began raising in the blind, telling me “…between you and me, I’m raising every time it comes to me.”

I asked him where he was from and he said, “Not trying to be rude but, none of your fucking business.”

I hid my smile and replied, “Ok.”

He dumped off about $100 right away. The cocktail waitress arrived and asked him if he wanted another ‘makers’. He said, “No, I’m just fucking fine, just like the dealers.”

I started laughing. The 8s started laughing because he thought I was being harsh with the 10s and the 8s was trying to get me to ease up.

The 10s kept talking in my ear, something about he was going to stay and play until he lost $3,000 because he felt bad about the money his mom lost and if he could say ‘that’ word he would.

I asked him why he didn’t just stay and win.

He said they were all a bunch of retards.

I asked, “How could you believe that holding up the game and making comments about people would make the game better?”

The 8s jumped in, trying to look like a good guy, problem solver, “He’s alright, he’s just been drinking.”

I barked, “Stay out of this.”

The 10s told me again that they were all a bunch of retards and kept slamming chips at the pot.

I didn’t mind him calling them ‘all’ retards. I minded two players nit picking and laughing at a new player that’s trying to learn the game.

And check this out, one of the last hands I dealt was raised pre-flop. It ended up being three way action with A-K-J-?-Q on the board. Of course a 10 made a straight. The 5s bet, the 6s called, the 1s raised, the 5s raised, the 6s asked if he could raise and he did, the 1s raised, the 5s and the 6s called.

The 5s and the 1s both turned over a 10 with a big kicker. The 6s turned over Q-9 Off-suit. The 6s put in a raise with third pair, no kicker, on the River.

No, I’m not making fun of him. I’m pointing out the fact that these idiots want to make fun of him and possibly embarrass him into leaving, believing that they are all laughing at him.

Get them Card Fairy, paint their cards into something else at the River. Punish them for being ‘the retards’.

Who called for a fill?

A day in poker is like a day that’s impossible to describe to anyone that hasn’t been there….but I keep trying. Of course I do this because I want to go back and read again and laugh my butt off with, “Oh my God! I forgot about that…” Well some of the instances don’t leave me laughing my butt off.

Last week I dealt a $600-$1,200 Mixed Game. The game had just started when I sat down but must have been a Dead Spread all day as there was only $40 in blue chips in the rack. The line up was Shawn, Oscar, and Eli.

I called for a bank increase to be able to break down a $100 or $500 chip if needed. Carmen brought me $500 in $25 chips for the increase.

About ten minutes into my down, Todd arrived and took a seat. Curtis showed up a few minutes later. Renee was ready to play and waiting for Security to ‘unlock’ his lock box.

About 15 minutes into my down, I called for a fill. It was loud enough that anyone in the room could have heard me as the room was fairly quiet and Rachael (chip runner) acknowledged me from the middle of the low limit section.

Rachael appeard a few minutes later and I counted out the bank for my fill. After she left, Todd asked, “Who called for a fill, Linda?”

“I did.”


“It’s a courtesy to keep the rack full and in order for dealers and players.”

Todd motioned to the $40 in blue in the rack, “You won’t go through that in an hour in this game.”

Guess that means that none of the dealers or cocktail waitresses are going to get a tip.

Shawn said it all for me, I didn’t have to say a word.

Shawn, “Leave her alone. She’s one of the best dealers.”

Todd, “I’m trying to make her a better dealer.”

Shawn, “Linda, honey, do whatever you want. If you want to stop the game, go ahead, we’ll wait.”

Several thoughts went through my head with Todd’s comments. My being a better dealer by never getting a fill means that I would never stop or slow the game down to get one…the world according to Todd. No one else, in all of my dealing career, has ever bitched because I requested a fill.

What about Renee? As soon as he wins the first pot, he immediately wants $20 or more in blue chips because he does tip.

Am I to do my job based on what one person requires out of the masses that I deal to each year? I think not. If Shawn hadn’t said everything for me, I’m not sure I could have held my tongue.

I passed Shawn later in the night, away from the table and thanked him for speaking up on my behalf. He said, “They know…it’s just fucking bullshit.”

Did he hit the nail on the head or what?

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

I’m trapped in a screen play. It’s the first and last thing running through my head each day, mingled into everything else I’m trying to do. I am excited about it and like the way it’s moving, especially after receiving feed back from some good friends that have given me new insight and different avenues to consider. I’m hoping another week will put me right where I want to be with it and then…well, baby, the sky’s the limit.


I dealt an unfriendly little $600-$1200 mixed game on Table 1. Curtis, Shaun, Oscar, and Eli E. Curtis made quads twice, once in 7 stud, and he wasn’t happy about it because he caught Aces up showing. Although he didn’t make quad Aces, he made quad deuces and got paid off to the River, he still complained.

Then he made quads in High Low Regular, heads up, and had to split the pot and he complained about that too. More than once he made the comment that if “they” (the other players) had been running as bad as he has, they wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Oh well…the rest of the poker world goes through the same shit every day, most of them just don’t cry about it.


The $10-$20 Blind NLH game had a lot of action in it and someone said Chris Moneymaker had been there earlier.


The most fun game of the night was a $2-$4 NLH game. The player in the 3s asked me if I was Linda from Pokerworks. We visited back and forth during my down. His name is Ron and he’s from TX. He is a true fan of this site and was extremely good to me in flattering my writing, the time it takes to post here, throwing money in my pocket, and meeting me.

He got involved in a three way action pot, the other two players were all-in for different amounts. One player held A-A, and for the life of me I can’t remember what the other player had but I believe it was A-Q or A-J. Ron had 8-8. The Flop was Q-8-? with an 8 on the Turn.

He threw me a big tip and blurted out, “See what happens when you’re nice to Linda.”

His whole appearance and mannerisms were top of the line. He loves the Sam G. posts…who doesn’t? He said sometimes he felt really bad for me when he read some of them and other times he couldn’t stop laughing.

Fortunately for the rest of us that live and work in Vegas, Sam must be in CA at a tournament because he’s a “No Call/No Show” on my shift the last week or so.


My site is being moved to another server, that means no posting or changes to anything by me for a few days. Maybe that will give me time to find the escape hatch from the ‘screen play time warp’.

Thursday, June 10, 2004

$4-$8 Holdem. A gent that’s been playing in the room for at least six months was in the 10s. He won a pot. While I dealt the next hand, he asked when the third dollar was taken for the rake, was it taken on $50 or $60? I told him $50. He said, “Look!”

I looked at his chip stacks and he had $49 stacked out in front of him. “That’s all that was in the pot.”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Well it’s not $50.”

I said, “Add $3.”

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

I repeated, “Add $3.”

“Oh…” the light went on “you take it out of a $50 pot.”

I nodded. The game went on. It was a crazy little jammer as all of the $4-$8 Holdem games seem to be anymore. There’s very little learning going on with a lot of them, they just came to play.

Which brings me to another thought on people that haven’t learned much from their table time. He’s good looking, clean and neat, great smile, early 30’s, and a veteran of the $8-$16 Holdem game. He wears heavy duty headphones and is armed with an MP3 Player and stacks of chips. He’s got the Heart of a Lion when he plays and is charming and upbeat when he’s winning. When he has a bad day and is getting drop kicked around the table, the wrath of Godzilla’s Mother-in-law couldn’t compare to Tony’s tongue and explosive anger.

The game had a ton of action…too much for the player that can’t mix it up and shift gears. Of the ten players at the table, I only knew two of them, Tony in the 5s, and an elderly gent in the 1s. For the first fifteen minutes of my down, the chips rolled in and out, people jammed it up, the 3s was d-r-u-n-k and kept slamming chips in with ATC. He went BUST and left the game.

The 9s won a big pot and the next hand the bet went to $24 pre-flop with seven way action. The Flop was a Jack with small cards and one Club. Action, action, action.

The Turn brought the Jack of Clubs. More action.

The River brought a Club and Tony and the 8s checked. The 9s bet. Another player in between called the bet and Tony hesitated and finally called, as did the 8s. Tony mumbled something like, “You didn’t catch runner-runner Club did you?”

Sure enough, the 9s turned over the K-2C. Tony turned over J-9 offsuit or something like that and slapped the table so hard they could’ve heard it on the Strip. He had a fit, went into the ‘NICE runner, runner Club, SIR!”

Then he went on to exclaim that the guy called a capped raise before the Flop with K-2.

I said, “No…it wasn’t capped.”

The Super Rant was on. He just couldn’t shut up about bad players and how he’d gotten beat with A-A earlier by 9-7 Offsuit.

I asked, “What difference does it make, whether it was suited or not?” trying to get past it and stop his poker face from leaking all over the table. Believe me, there weren’t enough bandages in the world to do that.

He just couldn’t let it go. He went on and on about getting beat by bad players. I finally said, “You need to change the way your thinking about this.”

(And I know Tony away from the table so it’s not as if I’m punishing him after he’s taken a beat. There’s another post here about his attitude along the same vein about a year ago.)

Definitely defiant, he exclaimed, “I hate getting beat by a BAD PLAYER.”

I almost laughed, “What? How do you know who’s a bad player?”

He said he didn’t care if he got beat but not by a bad player.

I told him to stop it, there was no need to make statements like that at the table.

He put his hand out, across the table, in the direction of the 1s and said, “I’m sorry you’re a bad player, Sir.”

I wanted to slap him. He made himself look so bad.

The 5s and I were both laughing because we were trying to figure out how you know someone’s a bad player.

Should all players be forced to take a quiz and if they fail, they have to wear a stamp on their forehead that reads: Bad Player?

Better yet, what should the players that want to tell people they’re a bad player have to wear on their foreheads? Tony?

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

What if you could have anything you wanted. What would you choose? After having received anything you wanted, what would be your next wish? Gotcha! You’re now trapped in the realm of the lost.

You’re struggling with a reply; you’re on the defense. There’s no time clock to battle, no financial stress, you have everything you want in terms of family/friends or lack of, food, sex, great body, money, health, intelligence, the universe, and it’s evil…you hate it now that you have it.

OPEN…poker! The great equalizer. The medium that doesn’t follow the core of complexities that society needs to evolve around everyday.

While you’re contemplating that I might as well fill in a few events from my days at work.

I dealt a crazy little four handed game of $300-$600 Mixed Games. One of the games was Deuce to Seven Triple Draw. Half way through my down, they decided that if you called a raise, you could draw six cards (that would be if you threw away all five on the first draw only) and if you were in the Big Blind, you could throw away all five and draw six. I wasn’t sure I got all of it but just did as they told me. Of course, when you drew for the next round, you would discard and draw one less than you discarded.

At one point, when Ali was in the blind, he threw away all five and told me to give him six.

I was the dumb butt here…I said, “I thought when you….”

Ali informed me, “You do not think. We tell you what to do.”

That’s why I truly HATE poker. I do think. So go screw yourself if you think I don’t. I try to make sure I never make a mistake and that I protect all players in the game and know what’s going on.

Well, anyway, the rest of the down was painless. They gambled, laughed and giggled, I dealt.


I had to do a repeat run through three games. They were all low limit. $4-$8 Holdem and no one at the table knew what was going on. Every card was, “How much is to me?” – “What can I bet?” The games were slower than hell and these people did not tip.

Wondering if I’m in it for the money? Yes!


Tonight found me having a major altercation with J.J. in a $30-$60 Holdem game. He’s mentioned in a post last week. He moved a seat to his left (the 4s) and immediately the 7s opened and he wanted it. He stated, “Deal me in.”

I told him that if he took a hand and then moved again, he would be expected to post the Blind. He had a fit. He implied that I was a trouble maker and full of ‘noise’. He stormed, “Deal me out. I want the seven seat because it is my favorite seat…blah, blah, blah….”

The 1s was D-R-U-N-K and obnoxious and I had a slight problem with him when he folded a hand but left it lay 1/2 inch from his fingers. When I asked him if he was done with the hand, I got a lecture on how he folded. Wonderful. Since I only deal to a zillion different people a year, I’m sure I’m going to know how this guys folds.

The game was a mess when I sat down. It didn’t get any better.

J.J. went out to smoke. When he came back he continued. I told him he didn’t even listen to what I said. He said I told him he couldn’t take a hand in the 4s. I told him that was not true and he was always upset, no matter what happened. He told me that the only thing that upset him was people like me. The whole table laughed.

I give up. I’m done trying to pass the STRESS TEST with J.J. He can figure it out and adjust or he’s on my ‘non-human’ list. I’ve dealt to him for a lot of years and I get sick of the attitude that he represents.

The Poker World is full of new faces and new ideas. If you can’t adjust, get ready to be unhappy.

Monday, June 07, 2004

Tango has been sitting on the sidelines instead of dancing every dance. The culprit? The Screenplay. My brain is intrinsically merged to the fibers in the story line of the screenplay. It’s finished. Ahhhh but that means it’s rewrite time and that’s where I’m at. I’ve received great input from a few friends and I’m ready to carve out a masterpiece but a break is needed and it’s time to Tango.

Precious came into the 6s of a $30-$60 Holdem game I was dealing on Thursday night. He was already seated in a chair and Andy, one of our Chip Runners, was pushing the chair in front of him (as if it had wheels) and pushed Precious up to the table. It’s hard to tell where Andy started with the chair but Precious kept a continually running, demanding string of orders so Andy would know what to do…like don’t breathe unless Precious says you can. “Stop here!” “Now wait a minute.” “Help me take my jacket off….let it drop straight down. I have arthritis in my shoulders.”

Andy had a smile and the patience of God; he did exactly as Precious asked him to do and Precious just kept barking at him. Andy finally got Precious settled and went to get chips for him.

Precious was between the Button and the Small Blind and I asked if he wanted to be dealt in. As if I were sock lint between the toes he hasn’t seen in a few years, he barked, “I’ll let you know when!”

He got his chips, not sure if he even told Andy thank you, and the Button passed him. He had his chips arranged and I knew if I dealt him out, he’d have a cow and a steer so I looked at the 7s and mouthed, “Ask him if he wants to post.”

The 7s complied and sure enough, Precious posted. I just didn’t want to have him bark at me again.

Precious informed me that he was 87 and couldn’t see and couldn’t hear and just loved to play poker, in between little barbs and jabs at everything else. He kept giving me a goofy toothless smile and I smiled back at him each time.

A note on Precious: I’ve dealt to him for over 16 years. It’s a bitch. He’s always got a sarcastic reply and a complaint about everything and no one else can say anything because the Great Precious interrupts them and tries to make them feel like they left home without packing any brainfood.

He slows down the whole game…on purpose. He’s a showboater and wants everyone to know he’s there and part of the action.

Unfortunately he has gotten OLD! He keeps his teeth in his pocket most of the time. He has selective hearing. He can’t see so a dealer either has to push the Board cards directly in front of him or read them to him. He’s pretty much a stiff and likes to give a jab and stab at how bad the dealer is whenever he loses a hand.

He can’t get in and out of a chair so someone (I even did it one time) has to grab the back of his pants and lift him up or balance him on the way down and, believe it or not, he still thinks he’s a F-O-X!

Nope, this isn’t meant to be negative. He’s at a spot in his life that all of us will reach if we live long enough. It’s just damn painful to be around him.

He bit my head off a few times and then when something came up, he asked me what happened. I replied, “At the risk of getting my head bit off for the 100th time in the last 14 years…”

He interrupted me of course.

A few minutes later he tried to be charming and asked, “So I’ve been a little hard on you before, huh?”

I just smiled. He smiled back. The rest of the table played poker, Precious wanted to play THE GAME.

I escaped. I didn’t get far because all the people that I write about are like a revolving door. There’s always an encounter with them that seems to be trapped in a time warp…repeat…blip…repeat…blip…

Marty C., Israeli Mike, Cuckoo, George P., Sam G., it just happens over and over again.

I’d better sit out this next dance and get on that screenplay or I could be stuck in the time warp the rest of my life…ouch!

Head-butting and hitting allowed, the room’s a screamer

Just as the room was a screamer, now it’s hit the other side of noise and confusion. It’s liveable. One can visit without screaming, faces take shape and resemble someone you really know instead of someone you think you know, the lists are not 60 deep, and we even have open seating with empty tables in the room. Phew! I knew the day would come but wondered if I’d live to get there.


Something that has created a wrinkle in my brain and I can’t let go of it…Curtis B. was removed from Bellagio because he reportedly head butted an engineer in one of the bathrooms. A few days later, he was back in the room.

A few months ago, he was reportedly removed from Bellagio for striking a sweater that was with a player in the game Curtis was playing in.

Out of the blue, Curtis is back. Excuse me while I throw up here!!!! What does all of that mean?

I find it hard to believe that someone capable of physically striking someone else is allowed in any establishment.

Another side of it that I find hard to believe is that anyone that was 86’d or removed from any establishment would return to that establishment.

Color me weird here. If I’m ever 86’d from someplace, they would have to send me a gold engraved letter from the owner of the place begging me to return…guess it’s a pride thing.


I sat right down in a $15-$30 Holdem game. The first hand dealt, I called the wrong hand as a winner and mucked the best hand. The 1s had the best hand and calmly asked me, “Would you turn those cards up please?

Shit! I haven’t done that in a million years but believe me, sooner or later I will and tonight was the night.

The 1s was wonderful. Not only did he NOT grab my arm and try to choke me to death, he threw lots of money in my pocket every time he won a hand. Geez! The Poker God really is looking out for me! She’s wonderful.


Something that has nothing to do with poker. If the asshole down the street doesn’t go out and kill his car alarm, I’m going to go out and kill him and his car alarm.


I followed Jim tonight. While dealing a $4-$8 Holdem game, I watched and semi-listened to problems Jim was having on the game in front of me which was $30-$60 Holdem. J.J. was having a fit with Jim.

A note on J.J.: Years ago, at the Mirage, J.J. played $20-$40 Holdem. He was filled with complete insanity for the game and played every night. His wife sat behind him now and then and he always seemed to win, not necessarily while I was dealing, but he always had chips in front of him and JAMMED it up every night. He laughed and giggled while he played, stacking chips and throwing them in the pot before he even looked at his next hand.

He did what most players that start too high too fast do. He dimmed over the years into the player that can’t beat the game, one that won’t adjust his play, one that always has a reason that he lost a pot or didn’t win and it wasn’t because of his play. He’s played intermittently for the last year or so.

J.J. and I definitely remember each other and we are not on bad terms, although he likes to make a statement when I deal to him that goes something like this, “Linda, you know I love you but you never deal me anything,” as he goes out to smoke.

This statement is totally ludicrous. Of course I’ve dealt him hands that he wins with…go figure.

On to tonight’s events. J.J. was having a huge FIT with Jim. Jim called the floor, then asked for the Shift Supervisor because he needed help. Kamell appeared and spent some time talking to J.J. and eventually I pushed Jim.

On the last hand that Jim dealt, J.J. waved his hands in the air and yelled, “Get out of here.”

Jim hadn’t even pushed the pot yet and he defended himself with, “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was ugly.

Jim left, I sat down and dealt. J.J. made a few comments about the fact that he had lost with A-A and Jim smiled.

Sorry kids but I smile a lot of times when I’m dealing. A friend walks by and nods hello. The guy next to me says something. The guy across from me smiles at me. How the hell can I not smile. It doesn’t have anything to do with the hand.

J.J. played up and down for a few hands, he was short chips. He made the comment, “Ok, Linda, put me out of my misery,” when he went all-in once. Sounds like a scene from ‘They Shoot Horses Don’t they?’ but we’re talking poker here.

He ended up going all-in on another pot and leaving the game. Someone noted that he’d whizzed up about $2,000 or more winner and then whizzed down through all of it.

Me? I try not to note any of that. I do note the player that thinks they are supposed to win every time they enter into a pot. I pay attention to the player that thinks I did it to them. Hey…those are the people I want to play poker with!!!!!


On the fun side of poker, my last down broke up early with the players drawing for seats in a new game. Pete, Graveyard Supervisor sat down to lock up the game and someone came up behind me and started giving me a back massage.

Pete said, “Don’t be trying to get on the good side of the dealers, Gus.”

It was wonderful and went on for a few minutes. Gus Hansen put his face next to mine and said, “I don’t have the energy for a full body massage.”

I grabbed both of his arms and pulled him around me, demanding, “Come here!”

We visited for a few minutes…damn I love poker!


The car alarm? I called 311, got the transfer to dispatch. I have to go out and find the car, license # and address to report them.


I did!

When I called back, they told me that if I knocked on the door, it would be faster than them getting there!

CHRIST! If the car alarm hasn’t brought them into the real world in four hours, how the hell is my knocking on the door going to do it?????

Let alone the fact that I’m a single, white woman…”Oh Boy, dipstick, let’s go knock on the neighbor’s door and wake them up at 6 a.m. with a complaint!”

Guess that’s why I love poker…no license plates or home addresses or phone calls…just shut up and deal!