Tenmile, I’m 58 years young. Quit with the elderly crap. You know that’s one of the best parts of poker – your age isn’t a factor unless you’re too young to get into a casino. Hah-hah-ha! But I enjoy your posts and visiting your pages so I forgive you this time…just don’t let it happen again.

*****

I played on shift for a few hours on Wednesday night. Go figure. The third hand I picked up, A-A, was of course beaten by A-2. She flopped bottom pair. Well how the hell could she throw that hand away? Then it was grinding, pitch, pitch, pitch, and finally Wayne appeared. He took a seat in my game and we whiled away a bit of time by gabbing. That always helps when I’m buried in a game because I don’t think about the hands and wonder if I’ll ever get even.

It was one of those odd nights. Wayne came in to visit with me (not a regular occurrence), Dan B., hiking buddy and friend, came in looking for me, and Mike C. appeared, he was going to play anyway but he was looking for me too – strange how it works.

Wayne left around 10:30 or so and the game I was in finally turned into the kind of game I would love to play in forever. I didn’t know a soul. They didn’t know anything. It was perfect. I managed to pick up a pot now and then and got most of my money back when I played J-7 H. The Flop was two hearts, 4-5-8. A 6 peeled off on the Turn. UTG bet $8 and the next player made it $16. I had a vision of 7-9…hell yes I’m gun shy. I’ve missed every straight and flush draw for months and it seems that if a hand would beat me, someone’s got it. I called. So did three other people. A deuce popped off on the River and UTG checked, the next player bet, I called, everyone else folded. He said, “I’ve got a straight,” as he turned over J-3 off.

I stacked a lot of chips, looked at a few more rounds of cards and gave it up for the night. I’m only good for about four hours anymore, then I start getting “WTF are you doing? You have other things to do!” messages that race across dark side of my brain. Only problem is they keep racing until they burn through to the light side of my brain and then I HAVE TO GO! Don’t think I’m not talking to myself about this problem with table hours. How in the hell am I ever going to win a tournament if I can’t stand more than a few hours of table time in a session? *subliminal messaging – You love to sit at the table…you love poker…you love to play…you don’t mind it when dealers are idiots…the Romeo sitting next to you that never shuts up doesn’t bother you…come on, Linda…you can do it!*

I walked past Bobby’s Room with my little racks of chips and stopped by the sliding door on the side (not the main entrance). Eli E. was sitting at the table, facing me, talking to the dealer, as he waited for more players to appear. When I slid the door open, he looked up. I stuck my tongue out and did the, “Plh-ghl-ghg-hlg-hg,” at him. He roared and waved at me. Don’t forget that he’s the guy that pulled my hair one night when I was dealing to all of the ‘higher ups’ in Poker Land. Why? Because he heard there was a dealer there that wore a wig and he wanted to see if it was me. *laughing still* I went on my way for the night.

Thursday night, I waltzed into the office and Pete asked if any of us wanted to just take the night off without clocking in…HELL YES! I had to hang around because a friend of mine was coming in from Texas and we were supposed to touch bases about a drink this weekend. So…hello poker game!

This game started off just the opposite of last night. I did know two of the players but they are fairly quiet and didn’t stay long. I went on a mini heater. Once you have lots of chips the game is a lot more fun. The guy on my right, David, was poker savvy and easy to visit with. The guy on my left managed to maintain a sense of humor even though he barely played a hand and his chips dwindled down to nothing over a few hours. Some of the guys really had no idea how to bet or play and everyone was talking it up and relaxed.

My friend from Texas arrived with a friend of his. We left the poker room to visit for a few minutes and settled on a dinner date on Saturday night. They both wanted to play in the tournament the following day and really had no plans other than that and getting into the ‘Vegas mode’. They went on their way and I returned to my game, ready to dash but decided to play a few more rounds.

Then it happened. One of our regular dealers sat down and the game went into total standstill. He dealt the cards, stared at the ceiling, or at the rack, or across the room, but never once did he tell a player that the action was to him. And since they were all new players, how would they know? It’s not my job to run the game when I’m in the dealer’s seat, so I sat, biting my tongue, for the first 15 minutes of the dealer’s down. We must have seen six hands in those 15 minutes. Each time a player finally figured out that it was up to him, he apologized, and acted on his hand. But our dealer sat there like a stump. I finally looked at the dealer…yes I know him…and said, “Honey, come on. Run your game. Tell them when it’s their turn to act.”

He acted totally indifferent, shrugged, “They are talking,” as he looked away.

Kee-rist! That was enough for me. I know dealer’s can make or break a game and this one lost me. I racked up, told everyone goodnight and how much I enjoyed playing with them, and hit the window.

And I don’t have to work tomorrow. Yeah…these three-day workweeks are killing me.

Oh and my buddy, Nicholas in the 3s, has a new blog address. Check it out!

It has occurred to me that I’m a slacker in the respect that when I mention someone that carries a blog, I’m not posting a link to their blog. Slacking in that respect is completely unintentional and I will try to change my ways. There are a lot of great blogs on poker. I try to keep up with reading but there are so many, it’s almost impossible for me with the limited time I have each day.

Continue reading Poker bloggers…high limit hell →

I had plans to sit down and add more character and happenings to Tango yesterday. The hours have managed to escape, filled with life and people, places to go, and things to do. And it’s almost Monday morning.

On Thursday, I posted about a ‘post thief’ that Iggy had sent an email about. I visited the page a few hours after Iggy’s email and it displayed ‘this page cannot be displayed’. The following day I received an IM from Wayne, the page was up and filled with meanness. The owner of the page could have simply apologized and I would feel kindly towards him…he must be a ‘him’ because he invited some of us ‘to choke on his cock’. But instead of an apology, the owner stated that he had been running an aggregator and it picked up posts that might be of interest but somehow the aggregator went ahead and posted the posts, as if the owner was completely innocent of the entire affair and had unfortunately been saddled with a run away aggregator that had developed a mind of its own and did what ‘it’ wanted to do.

So to those of us that screamed and yelled and had a fit about it, I’m assuming Iggy was one of the most vocal, the owner acted indifferent, belligerent, and hostile about the whole affair. I hate that! Because the owner did something that caused a consequence he didn’t like, he snarls and bites back at the world he’s trying to enter into…the poker world of blogging and interesting posts.

Damn that Renegade Aggregator!

Well since yesterday, late in the evening and through the night, and still now, the page is once again not there. The old ‘this page cannot be displayed’ is back. I say cheers to Iggy for standing up for us in the blogging hemisphere of Cyber – and BOOOO to the owner of the Renegade Aggregator. Mr. Owner – just go ahead, apologize, and take responsibility for your actions, and then step into our world.

*****

That beautiful truck I ordered about six weeks ago arrived. I spent a lot of my hours on Friday settling into the time it would take to get it out of the dealership parking lot and into my possession…Kee-rist! Forever!!! It won’t fit in my garage. I took this picture of Viv standing next to it up at Red Rock Canyon just to show the actual size of it. And no, she’s not a midget.

Of course part of my time over the weekend was spent c-r-u-i-s-i-n-g! What fun!

*****

The Saturday night card party kicked off with a half 7 stud, half 7 stud 8, tourney. It must have been fun. I played a short part of one of the stud sessions and let my nephew play the rest of it. I spent most of my night sitting out by the chimenea, enjoying the fire and the company of whomever wasn’t playing or was taking a break. My nephew, Chad, is learning to play poker. Of course he’s learning on my dime during the tournaments but I had more fun hanging out with a brew and stoking the fire – so it was a fair trade. Then we played Big Deuce. Next week I’m opting for a break in the action and won’t have any festivities at my house. The following week – possibly a Pan game again. That’s how we originally started, Pan, and now we’ve picked up new players so a Pan lesson is in the offing. I’m tired of Big Deuce. Pan will be a nice change.

*****

I play poker online – frequently. I’m still flabbergasted at the chat at times. Tonight I was playing in a single table $50+5 buy-in NLH Tourney. (It was my third tourney) and after looking at dead cards for the last three tables, when the blinds were $25-50, I raised it to$100 UTG with K-10D. The Button raised it $100, the BB called, and I raised it $740 more all-in. The Button folded. The BB took forever to decide to call and I had him covered by a small amount. He showed A-8 S and won the pot. But he couldn’t be happy with that, he chatted, “Fn broads! Just because they live in Vegas they think they know how to play.”

Retardo to the max! I made it through the BB and won the pot and typed back at him, “Whiner”.

I didn’t make it through the SB but got to see his reply, “How can I be whining when I beat you?”

Unfortunately Party doesn’t allow observer chat right now (or they are having a problem with it) so I couldn’t throw some pepper into his open nostrils.

One of the greatest promos I’ve found going on right now, in the online map, is TitanPoker. I am going to play in the $2000 PokerWorks/TitanPoker free roll on November 19th. The only requirement is a $20 deposit and there are a lot of other great deposit bonuses going on besides that one. Don’t be lame – get game, and I’ll see you in the tournament on the 19th.

I ventured home from a few hours of dealing on Wednesday night to find an email from Iggy

*begin email*

Subject: iggy here

i’m still your biggest fan. 🙂

found this jackass stealing your posts at
http://www.bigslickaddictcom/?p=140

and am harassing him and his registrar. just thought you should know.

*end email*

When I visited the site, sure enough, bold and downright irritating, pictures and all, were some of my posts. This is horrible. It’s one thing if someone uses your writing and thoughts and puts a link back to where they got it from, but to just steal it and use it is…well…obnoxiously freaky and I hate it.

A few hours later, all the info was gone. I think your harassing the jackass paid off, Iggy. Thank you so much just for being you. And we are going to meet at the WPBT – Saturday, December 10th. Info here.

Yippee! I love Poker! I love u 2 Iggy!

*****

Excitement to the max!!! That Ford F-350 I mentioned in the October 21st post is going to be in my garage along about tomorrow night…that is if its big ass will fit in my garage. It is one big dude…perfectly built for one dudette – me! The picture doesn’t really do it justice as mine is a four door, 4×4. So on with the next step of the plan – get ready for this…

I still have a lot of research to do but this is in the works. Well…what the hell did I need that big ass truck for? The plan is in progress. Sleep is on the agenda so I can pick up the big ass truck…more later.

Something strange must be going on in my brain. I’m not racing in to sign the E/O list every night…well…er…ah…except on Thursdays. I’ve actually had a three-day weekend, every week for the last three weeks. Don’t think it ain’t heaven when my shift supervisor asks me if I want Friday off. I jump on the opportunity like a duck on a june bug.

But let me get right into the Tuesday night poker scene. The room was pretty damn well deserted. I started on 16B (any table with a ‘b’ behind it is a break table), headed down to Mangia (the help’s hall) and had a burger and actually sat with three other dealers…they joined my table, one at a time. I normally dine and sit alone. I’m not big on dealer noise and grief so I chose to sit alone. Yes…I’m having a wee bit of a problem with dealers right now. I don’t want to hear from most of them. They are annoying and they seem to enjoy hanging out in clusters and announcing their non-tip downs and player grievances…like things will change if they sit around and talk about it.

So, without further ado, let’s get right into Tuesday night poker. One of our dealers, mentioned before on these pages, Allegra, is unbelievable to deal to. She always plays $4-8 H. She’s always the live one. She always does everything she shouldn’t do as a player and being a dealer, one would think she would know better. It just ain’t so. She jumped to three different seats during my down and with a seat open and a player coming in, if the new player wants to post, the player wanting the seat change must move immediately. She appeared to be angry when I told her she has to move now instead of waiting a few hands. She must know the rule…she’s been at Bellagio since opening. She plays every hand. She checks out of turn. She folds out of turn. She tells other players what she has, with three or more way action. No matter how many times I’ve cautioned her, she still does all of the above.

She ends up in the 1s. I can see her cards – 10-4 off suit. She’s heads-up with the 2s. On the River, they both check. They show each other their cards. He lays 4-4 face up on the table. He knows he’s beat because she has a pair of 10’s with the cards on the board. But still…he shows his hand. She takes her 4 and puts it with his 4’s and turns her 10 face down. WTF????

I snort, “Allegra, come on!”

She innocently says, “He’s folding.”

I say, “He turned his hand face up on the table. If you want the pot, you have to turn yours face up on the table.”

“O-h-h-h-h…he said he was folding,” as she turns up the damn 10.

I hate – do you hear me – HATE to deal to her.

I never cut her any slack and always stop her when she tries to do something out of turn. Consequently, most of the time, she doesn’t like to play when I deal because I won’t let her get away with anything or I’m not her lucky dealer, or the stars aren’t aligned, or whatever the case may be.

Right at the end of my down, I asked for her blind, she indifferently acted like I had an eye in the middle of my forehead and couldn’t speak coherently as she snipped her finger back and forth across the felt and said, “Deal me out.”

I put a missed blind button in front of her, the 2s posted the BB, and then she realized a push was coming through – I wasn’t going to be dealing to her in another minute – so she said, “Deal me in,” and threw in her blind.

Kee-rist! I was happier than she was that I was getting pushed.

Then I was off to a $15-30 H game. Dorothy was in the 10s. I hadn’t dealt to her in a very long time…possibly two to three years. I was sorry to be dealing to her now. She has that ‘over 50’ red hair that looks like it would break and crumble into dust if you touch it. She’s not in good health and is a rather large woman. She’s also a perpetual whiner and it’s always the dealer that makes her win or lose.

The game was fairly active, Dorothy lost a few hands, nothing monumental, but she wasn’t happy. The 9s left and Dorothy made the statement that her legs were swollen, she would put her feet up on the chair and if someone came to take the seat, she’d move her feet. Well…ok!

She posted her BB and lost that hand. She then told me to deal her out. She had lost $400 with me dealing to her and she couldn’t afford to lose her money. I gave her a missed SB Button and continued to deal.

About 10 minutes later she hit my arm…damn I’m glad that red, brittle hair isn’t catching, I sure as hell don’t want it…and went on to tell me that she didn’t want me to take it personally that she was sitting out while I was dealing. She just knew that she couldn’t win with some dealers. And it went on and on and on.

The 6s was a little cutie and he was giving me eye contact now…it was almost ‘roll your eyes’ eye contact because you can’t believe someone can really say all that with a straight face. I wanted to fall off my chair laughing as I listened to her and watched him.

I finally said, “I remember you, Dorothy. I just haven’t seen you in a long time.”

A minute later and the 8s told Dorothy that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Sometimes he just took a walk because he knew he would lose with a dealer. D-A-M-N!!! I should be playing in a game with these people when I’m dealing…I’d be stacking their chips.

I got pushed. My next game was the Dealer Nightmare game…$40-80 Mixed. It’s like dealing a Dead Spread. The same group of players trying to beat each other’s bankroll.

Off to $10-20 NLH and then a $30-60 H game that was in complete chaos from the beginning of my down to the end. Seat changes, players leaving, no one coming in, requests for table transfers, short handed…ugh, double ugh, triple ugh. Jo was in the 5s. I had to laugh. She used to deal at the Gold Coast. I played in her games all the time. She used to deal to me, now I deal to her. Life has a way of turning everything around.

The straw that should have broke the camel’s back (but all it did was leave me laughing my ass off) was a $20-40 Stud game. The line-up? Gus – shoot the dealer but use a pistol instead of a shotgun so she’ll live through it – was in the 4s. None other than Creep Freak Hall of Famer, Marty C. in the 5s. These two were both in this post.

Gus wasn’t happy after about the fifth hand I dealt. He was muttering and mumbling in Greek or some language I didn’t understand…but it was directed at me.

The 1s was new to the game, I knew everyone else there. At one point when Marty and Gus were mumbling, I turned to the 1s and quietly said, “Welcome to the group.”

He laughed. How can anyone sit through that game, with that crew and not laugh? Drugs please. Lots of them and order out for more.

Close to the end of my down Gus was mumbling that he’d lost $400 with me dealing. Of course his chasing couldn’t have anything to do with it, it was all me. Then Marty and Gus went to war. Gus said he had K-K and didn’t call on the River. Marty said he had two pair as I pushed him the pot and he started stacking.

Gus was mutter mumbling, guttural kill sounds. I dealt the next hand and Gus was low. I announced, “Four of Diamonds.”

Gus became a silent lump for about 30 seconds. Marty prodded him, “Four of Diamonds. You’re low,” waving his hand at Gus.

Gus stood up, picked up his cards, and threw them at me. He missed.

I looked at Marty and said, “Stop making him mad.”

Gus went crazy, “Dealer, just do your job!”

Marty jumped on the bandwagon, pointing at me, “I can call the Floor Man on you!”

I looked at Marty and said, “Please do.”

Gus slammed off. Marty mumbled again that he could call the Floor Man on me. Again I told him to do it.

Kamell happened to walk up at the same time. Marty leaned over, like an old woman that needs to gossip and doesn’t want anyone to know she started the rumor, and spoke behind his hand to Kamell. After Marty finished, Kamell said, “She’s pretty sharp.”

And Mike – 6s said, “Men are the ones that go through PMS.”

Everyone, except Marty laughed. Mike went with the conversation, I agreed with him, the game went on.

Gus had left a cookie on the napkin on the table and about $60 in $5 chips. Mike took off with the fact that someone should steal the cookie just to really piss Gus off. Then it got even better. Mike said he’d take a bite out of it and put it back if no one would tell on him.

Marty chortled, “Linda will tell.”

Knock – Knock. Someone tapped on the glass. Marty was acting almost human. Most of us were laughing over how Gus would react if he came back to find a bite out of his cookie. Then the noise went to the fact that he got the cookie from Mangia…one of the dealers brought it to him.

Marty won a pot and threw me $1 and said, “Now get off my back,” and he was even acting like he was enjoying the whole show. I took the $1. I gave it to the Cashiers when I left for the night. He is never going to crawl out of the Creep Freak Hall of Fame.

Mike was ready to jump up and take a bite out of the cookie but Gus came back into the room. He brought more chips to the table. And Marty leaned over to whisper to Gus behind his hand again. I’m sure he was telling Gus that he’d ratted me out to Kamell. Reach around and pat yourself on the back, Marty.

I got pushed. I walked around behind Mike, leaned over for his ears only, and said, “What would have really been funny is if you had a spare cookie and had taken a bite out of it and then put it on a napkin over his cookie.”

I know most dealers don’t have as much fun as I do. It’s too bad. I don’t have a road map to tell them how to get there though.

Crumball!! This year’s almost over already – where the hell did it go? Well…having said that, and nothing will change any of it; let’s get on to enjoying the hell out of what we have left of 2005.

The costumes were few and far between for Fright Night. Yes, the usual faces were in the poker room but they weren’t in costume. Marty C. was there and gave me a baleful eye as I walked past him just after I entered the room. I actually snickered as I passed him. He’s joined J.C. Pearson in the Creep Freak Hall of Fame. They are the only two poker players that are now life members of the Creep Freak Hall of Fame. But then it’s my Creep Freak Hall of Fame, I created it and I nominate, vote for, and appoint the members.

I started in a cheery little group of $4-8 H players. Wish that I could have stayed in that game all night, they were fun, gambling, and throwing $$ in my pocket which always makes for a good down.

$8-16 H and $4-8 H, these two games weren’t nearly as much fun as the first one but they weren’t painful.

The next game was $30-60 H. I recognized the guy in the 1s from last week. I asked, “Aren’t you the guy that used to own a casino…?”

He asked, “What?”

I went with it, “You know…you used to own a casino. Until you moved out of your apartment.”

He cracked up. “You thought that was funny?”

I said, “Damn right. I was laughing about it on my days off and as a matter of fact, I’m going to put it in my blog on the Internet and give you credit for it if you’ll give me your name.”

His name is Doug. He informed me I could call him Mr. X. Another player at the table said he looked a lot more like a ‘Doug’ than a ‘Mr. X.’. That was funny too. Well Doug works at Excalibur – poker dealer. Welcome to Bellagio, Doug.

I tried to screw up my line-up by taking a break out of that game. About four minutes later, some bell went off in my head and I raced in to check the break board. Straight to the next game, cruising in as fast as I could get there, I asked the dealer (he’s new), “Don’t you call out no push when the dumb dealer behind you doesn’t show up?”

He said something like he didn’t pay attention to the time; he just kept dealing. Well not only is he new, he’s young, and he looks like he’s never been happy in his life. What’s that all about? How can you not be happy in the poker room? Kee-rist! What are they making these kids of now a days?

This game was $10-20 NLH. Not a lot of action, very little noise, and I was there less than a full down because I screwed up! Slice of pie.

Then I really was on a break. I hit the restroom. As I walked in, a young woman stood right in the entrance with her foot up on the counter, bent over, trying to look at her butt in the mirror. She was definitely in costume and had three other young lovelies with her.

I started laughing as I queried, “Do you have something up your butt?”

Well…the way she was craning and looking in the mirror, I thought she might have lost something there. Apparently she thought she’d torn her fishnet stockings and was looking for the tear, somewhere in her crotch or buttock area. They were laughing, one of them was bending over looking at the fishnet stockings/butt/crotch.

Finally satisfied the stockings were intact; she stood up, looked at my nametag, and asked, “How do you like my balls, Linda? I made them myself.”

She carried two golden globes, each about 10 inches in diameter that had a gold handle that held them together.

Although I had no idea what they were supposed to be, I told her they were great. She said, “See if you can guess what I am supposed to be.”

She reached into one of the balls and pulled out a pinkish, red looking thing on a stick (yes…it resembled a penis). She had on black fishnet stockings, a blackish, short outfit, with something that looked like wings, and she’d already mentioned ‘balls’ so I said the first thing that came to my mind, “A walking Dick Head.”

“No-o-o-o. I’m the condom fairy,” and with that she reached into one of the balls and handed me a condom that had a paper pasted on the side, “Don’t be a ghoul, cover your tool”.

It was too funny. I asked her and her friends if they’d been through the poker room.

“No!”

I asked them if they’d mind walking through. They were fine with it. I took The Condom Fairy and one other one up through the Upper Section with me and I asked the Condom Fairy to give a condom to Nate (he was working the brush). She did. Everyone was watching the chicks…the hell with the costumes.

I left the girls there and continued on my break by heading back to the restroom where the Hallo-weenies had sidetracked me. I left my gift from The Condom Fairy in the restroom…who knows, maybe there’s a guy disguised as a girl drifting through there later in the night.

See…how can you not have fun in the poker room?

Tomorrow night is fright night – the day/night that all the ghosts and goblins come out to haunt everyone. I’m sure I will find a few of those in the poker room and they won’t even be wearing masks or face make-up or “trick or treating”. I’ll try not to act surprised to see them and I know they won’t yell “BOO” because they’ll be doing their usual.

Joe R. was playing in a $40-80 7 Stud game last week when I came in to start my shift. I walked up behind him, put my arm around his neck and shoulder, gave him a hug, and as he said, “Hi Linda. How are you?” I asked him if he was ready for Halloween.

For somewhere around the last 10 years, we’ve joked about the fact that he would be looking for me on Halloween. Sure it was a hot date thing…that really never was. Some day either Joe or me won’t make another Halloween. If it’s him, he will be another memory tucked away that will surface especially around Halloween. If it’s me, it really won’t matter now will it?

I love memories! Even if they’re sad, they are part of my life. I can’t seem to pick and choose which ones I want to keep because they flood through my head, at certain times, in an stoppable torrent.

Some of my favorite memories are centered on the Saturday Night Card Game at my house. Several of the people I’ve known for years – Gordon and Carole, we’ve been friends since the Montana Days. We worked in the poker industry together in Montana and have been friends for a zillion or so years. I met Vivienne when she came to Bellagio to play poker. I met Wayne when he found this site and came in to Bellagio and introduced himself. The rest of the crew pretty much developed from reading this site and wanting to learn to deal poker. Some of the wannabe dealers have gone on to other places and lost touch with us but the majority have remained to become good friends and still return to play cards and help more new people that want to learn to deal.

One of my favorites, and she’s not a dealer or a card player, Amy, is attached to Greg (no…not physically…they’re an ITEM) and that’s how she joined our group.

Amy recently had a birthday and like any good hostess should, I ordered a cake for her. It was a beauty – custard filling – marble cake with butter cream icing:

As the card party developed and we grazed on a variety of munchies, food, snacks, and Amy’s cake, I decided the cake needed to go back into the refrigerator. This is what the cake looked like a few seconds after I picked it up.

I know…I know! One would think I was drinking and couldn’t manage to pick up the cake and move it to the refrigerator. Truth is, the majority of the cake was on the back half of the base and the cardboard the cake was seated on neatly folded in half from the weight, and the cake slipped onto the floor on its top…as I did a SHRIEK kind of thing.

Amy and some of the crew ran in to see what the shrieking was all about. When Amy saw the cake, she grabbed a fork, got right down on her knees, and dug into the custard filling with, “Umnnhhh! This is my favorite part.”

We were laughing our asses off. I grabbed a spatula and started scraping up the sweet, gooey mess that used to be a birthday cake. Wayne grabbed my camera and snapped away.

I scraped the bottom off – which had now become the top – put it back on the cardboard and into the refrigerator. The top of it – which had now become the bottom – went into the garbage can. It felt like most of the icing ended up on my hands. The upside down cake, what was left of it anyway, stared back at me each time I opened the refrigerator door for the next five days until I finally pitched it into the garbage. Thinking back on it now, what we should have had was a ‘cake fight’. That would have really been the “coup d grace” for a birthday event.

Although we joke about the fact that we get together to graze and drink, we do play cards – splashed with all kinds of conversation – and the norm is to hang out for seven to eight hours before we give up until the following Saturday. Last week we played a half and half tournament – structured Holdem and Omaha 8 or Better. This week it was half and half – Deuce to 7 and Ace to 5 Triple Draw…hate those games. We finished the night off, after the tournaments, with our usual Big Deuce game. Next week…who knows?

But in the meantime…Fright Night – Halloween awaits!

Kim AKA The Dragon Lady. She’s such a character. She acts like she’s mad all the time…and she’s dirt talked to Marty ($40-80 7 Card Stud) so she’s got to be on the top of the list…mine anyway. She goes from being shy and cute to mean and horrible in a zillionth of a second.

She was in my line-up. Recently she trashed me because I said ‘hello’ to her when I sat down. Hey…don’t you know that’s unlucky as hell???? What’s wrong with me that I wouldn’t know that? So…when I slid my tush into the Box, I never even looked at her. She was in the 4s, right across from me, and I still made sure I never gave her eye contact. I wanted to bust out laughing…

The game was short handed, Nick, one of the Greeks, that I had problems with about two months ago was playing. He didn’t last too long. We’ve gotten past the screamer stage where he was pissed because I wouldn’t let him buy short. He finally picked up his chips and left with the statement that he couldn’t beat anyone.

A graciously, wonderful black man was in the 6s. He had a great sense of humor and seemed to be in awe of Kim and her mouth. Kim moved to the 1s when it opened and the 6s took her spot in the 4s.

Kim kept expounding over the fact that she hadn’t won a hand in the last four dealers. OMG! In two hours? Kee-rist! I’ve gone for weeks and never won a fucking pot and I’m listening to her rant, double rant, jam it up rant, pack it down rant, and just nodding my head every time she looks at me after slamming out an emphatic statement on how bad she’s running.

She kept snipping her three cards in, one up, two down, because she’s too damn lazy or irritated to turn them down and push them in. She made a comment when she was low. I chuckled and said, “I love you.”

She croaked, “I love you out my ass,” as she leaned onto her left cheek and pointed to her tush with her right hand.

I roared. Bill – 3s said, “She doesn’t like anyone.”

I argued, “Of course she does. She loves me.”

She slammed and snorted through a few hands, once she raised her hand like she was going to slap me. I laughed. The 4s’s mouth fell open and he almost jerked back. I spoke to directly to him; “She doesn’t mean anything by it. She loves me.”

She won a few pots. Then she had two blues chips in front of her for her ante and told me to give her one. If she won, I’d get it back, if not…forget it!

I dug into my pocket and put out a chip to complete her ante. She never played the hand. A few minutes later she threw in a $5 chip and asked for change, gave me back the one I’d given her, waited a half a minute and threw me another one.

I was still laughing when I got pushed. I walked around behind the 4s and told him she was just a softy and that one time she had said she would fucking kill me and I told her she couldn’t kill a grandma. He started laughing.

Kim was eagle eyeing both of us and listening. She asked, “Grandma?”

I held up five fingers as I turned to my next game. See…she’s got a heart and it ain’t made of stone. You just have to know how to find the map into that heart.

Another part of the equation that’s funny, I used to play $3-6 H with her beau, Bill, at The Mirage – that was long before he hooked up with Kim. Bill plays $30-60 H now and he was an assistant prosecutor in L.A. Not sure what he does now. *Kim is in the People in Poker pages*

*****

How many Elaine’s does it take to stop the whole room? Just one sort of throws a glitch into everything. She’s Asian, used to play $20-40 Omaha 8 or B with a Kill, now plays $30-60 H and the $40-80 Mixed games. And I’ve heard that she used to deal at the Palms. No news on if she works anywhere now. The only problem is that is she does work in the gaming industry, she should be cautioned because of her bad behavior in other casinos.

I was dealing a game with my back to the Cashier when my game and the whole room was interrupted with an incredible amount of screaming behind me. I turned around to see Elaine screaming at Menchie and Menchie slamming out of the Cashier’s Cage.

I went back to my game. The whole room had stopped for a few seconds. People in my game were buzzing about what had happened and why. The word around the room later was that Elaine apparently can’t stand to have old and new bills mixed so when she cashed out, she found five $100 bills in her otherwise ‘all new bills’. She threw them on the counter and wanted to change them for new. Done deal. Menchie, one of our long time cashiers changed them for her. Don’cha just know that Elaine happened to find another one and wanted to change it too. Can’t happen. The cashiers are only allowed to change $500 max in cash for cash.

Elaine was having a fit. Kamell spoke with her about the rule and explained Menchie’s position.

Instead of trading the bill off with another player, or walking to the main cage to swap it out, or just letting it go, she went back to Menchie with the bill and wanted to buy a $100 chip. Menchie sold it to her. Then she immediately wanted to cash it out. Menchie gave her back the same bill. Elaine went nutzzz screaming, “Do you want to fight me? Do you want to fight me?”

I heard that Menchie simply said, “Ok!” and headed out of the cage where she was promptly stopped and herded back towards the office by Skip.

Elaine had to leave the premises and could not return until she spoke with Doug. Naughty, naughty, Elaine, shame on you…someone that’s worked in a casino, especially in the poker room should know better.

And on the other side of it, my money’s on Menchie!

Bruce Meierkord

I just received news from Suzie Lederer that Bruce passed away this morning, October 27, 2005.

Bruce was just in Aruba with us dealing the Ultimate Bet Event. Bruce opened the Mirage with a lot of us that are still in the industry. He moved up to Assistant Supervisor and eventually took the graveyard supervisor position – later moving to Bellagio to fill the same spot. He left Bellagio’s employment a few years back and maintained an active part in poker as a dealer at tournaments and possibly some floor positions that I’m not aware of because I lost touch.

My last memory of him was an animated, smiling Bruce, laughing at himself for getting ‘old and fat’. Damn it! Life is so harsh at times.

My wish for Bruce: May peace fill your spirit and your new journey carry you to places that we all dream about.

Table Tango, my couch, awaits my thoughts and self-expression for the day. This self-indulgent space is my therapy. Let me tell you how it all started. I dealt poker in Montana for some years before traveling to Vegas to deal my first big tournament in 1987. That tournament was the last tournament the Golden Nugget hosted – the Grand Prix. Shell shock!!!! Looking back on it now, I wonder how I ever had the will to return. It was brutal. I was almost sick to my stomach due to the attitude of the players and the house’s willingness to let it slide.

After the Grand Prix, I continued to work major tournaments in Nevada for two years – from 1987 to 1989. Poker was really slow in Montana and I knew if I was going to be in the poker business, I would have to make a move. I applied at The Mirage and opened the casino (along with over 5,000 other employees) in November of 1989. The Mirage took all the poker business in town. Caesar’s Palace closed their poker room six months after The Mirage opened. Every room in town downsized or closed.

Fright night had turned into 24/7 as far as I was concerned. I dealt to everyone that was ‘name brand’ during that time period. I used to leave the poker room at night swearing that I would have to quit my job. I dreamed of ways to make myself immune to the ugly glares, the card throwers, and the swearing freaks that were always the same troublemakers in the games and always managed to just get a gentle rebuff when they got horribly out of line. Even a lot of low limit players had the attitude that they were spending their money, they should be allowed to behave any way they wanted. I hated every second of it. I used to sit with other dealers and moan and groan and share horror stories about players and their attitudes towards dealers.

Then in 1996 I got my first computer. Back in the days when 32 mgs of ram and a 1.6 gig hard drive was the top of the line. I knew absolutely nothing about computers but I was determined to learn to build web sites. I locked up a domain name for my son’s tattoo shop and started messing around with a site. One of the dealers I worked with had just started a poker website. We spent a lot of time visiting and he asked me if I would write something for his site. I did. (In the meantime…along about 1999, I locked up the domain name ‘PokerWorks.Com’) Although he liked the articles and put them up on his site, he eventually felt they were too much trouble to update and told me I should just put them up on my site. I did.

Those articles were my first rebellious statements about what happens at the poker table on a daily basis – the truth about what people are really like when they are running bad and watching their money being pushed across the table to someone else. Eventually I kicked off ‘dear diary’ and then changed the name of my couch to Table Tango when I had someone else write for a short time.

These pages are here for me. I write for therapy. I write for my own enjoyment. I write so that I can go back and see where I was at another time in my life. I really never thought anyone would ever read of any of it or that I would meet so many great people because of all of it. But the bottom line is that this is here for me.

I really used to become quite angry when someone would say, “Stu Ungar was the greatest card player that ever lived.”

And I would want to snort, “Bull fucking shit! He was great when he won. But when he lost, it was the dealer’s fault.”

Guess I should say that I didn’t just want to snort…I did snort. And truthfully, I never had a good session with Stu Ungar. So if he was so damn great, why couldn’t he take a beat? I don’t think the world should view poker players as if they aren’t human and they all sit around like Ladies and Gentlemen and pass the time of day politely moving on to the next hand. It just ain’t so. And if poker players don’t want the world to know just how ugly they can get when they’re on a losing streak, they need to apply more make-up to their poker face, bite their tongue, control their hand motions, and just get on with the game because some of us are going to tell it like it is.

So it all started out as rebellion and turned into therapy. Now it’s a way of life. I can’t imagine not writing about my life and how poker interacts with it. My beautiful couch…Table Tango.