Just the word overtime makes me feel slightly sick to my stomach, but there it was, slapped right in my face in the pleasant form of, “Linda, would you stay a little longer for me?”

Arghhhhh! I hate OT. I did stay…it turned into a nine hour shift for me. There were still 30 games running at 3 a.m. What the hell is going on here? Don’t these people have a home? Ok, enough whining from my end of it.

I dealt to one idiot, 3s, in a $15-$30 game that was never supposed to take a beat. Every one else was supposed to lay down and die to make sure he won the pot. The first sign of unhappiness came when he flopped a full, (Q-3), Queens full of Threes, and got beat by runner-runner Ace. He made snotty comments to the winner.

The winner was wonderful, he exclaimed, “You’re not going anywhere are you? You’re staying aren’t you? That way I can win all of your money!”

I had to laugh over that.

The loser then turned to me, “Nice job dealing.”

I replied, “Thank you! I am a good dealer.”

The 3s lost another hand later in my down. He did the same thing with, “Nice job dealing.”

I did the same thing, “Thank you.”

He informed me he wouldn’t tip me again. I said, “You worry about my tips but I won’t worry about your play.”

The 7s chimed in, acting as if he was a buddy of the 3s, “You’re being a bad boy again.”

The 3s made more comments about my dealing and how I wouldn’t get a tip from him.

I replied, “I won’t make comments about your playing.”

The situtation was a little on the steamy side but at this point, I really didn’t care.

The 7s chimed in again, same chummy attitude towards the 3s, “You are being a bad boy.”

I looked right at the 7s and asked, “Why don’t you take him home and spank him then?”

The 3s was the button and each time I moved it to deal to him, he pulled it back right in front of him.

I asked, “Are you finished?”

He replied, “Just getting it out of your way.”

Funny how it didn’t bother him the other two rounds of the table.

The 8s told him to stop it and just play poker.

Amen brother. What the hell is wrong with just playing the game?

*****

Andy was back, slamming it up with Phil I. tonight. Results unkown.

I landed in Billings MT early a.m. on the 21st. A gathering of friends and family came to share a belated wedding/house warming for my nephew and his wife. Too much food, too much to drink, and loads of laughter, music, and great company were the highlight of the event. It rained the whole time I was there but the rain didn’t put a damper on anyone’s spirit or the event.

Seemed like there was never any time to sleep but we did find time to play poker. We took one hour poker breaks stuffed in between setting up for the party, fixing a meal, sleep, and anything else that might get in the way. I lost! Can you believe it? A friendly little $.25-$.50 poker game and I barely found a hand I wanted to play while they played everyone dealt to them. Hysterical!

Tonight, the 25th, it’s back to the land of insanity. The world where nothing exists but the next hand being dealt. Truthfully I’m not looking forward to stepping back into the casino noise and hurry scurry side of life, let alone the poker room where the microphones will scream for hours, body heat and emotion explode in a never ending torrent, and people will enter and leave in a never ending flood.

An interesting note, while walking through the airport to Baggage Claim, there are ads on all of the walls with the greats of poker supporting Belvedere Vodka, you can view them here.

A $15-$30 Stud game, one night last week, would have tried the patience of God, let alone this little mortal’s ability to deal with people that just DON’T GET IT! The worst of it is, one of the people that just didn’t get it, deals day shift and should know the rules better than anyone at the table, besides me.

First the rule:

In all raked games ($20-$40 and lower), seat change is by request. If no one has asked for a seat change and a seat opens, the new player puts anything down in the seat, i.e. chips, cash, car keys, coat on the chair, etc., the seat belongs to the person locking it up.

In this particular nightmare event, the game was $15-$30 Stud but it was going to change to $20-$40 Stud hinging on one condition, keep in mind that everyone at the table had already agreed before I got there and I was just sitting down. The 1s, Joan, was going to go to another $15-$30 stud game and trade places with Ben that wanted to play $20-$40. Her moving and the game changing was based on the fact that Ben wanted the seat she was leaving and Ben had already placed a $5 chip under the edge of the rail in her seat. Hence, he locked up the seat.

As soon as she started to rack up, the 2s, Ray, one of our dealers, said he wanted the seat. Where was Ray in the conversation before I got there? If Ben didn’t get the 1s, Joan wasn’t leaving and the game would stay $15-$30…keep in mind all of this had already been agreed upon.

I looked at the $5 chip under the edge of the rail and asked Joan, “Ben already locked this seat up?”

The answer was ‘yes’ and if Ben couldn’t have the 1s, she wasn’t leaving.

I stated that since Ben had locked the seat up, it was his seat.

Ray started an argument with me, “He has preference over player’s in the game?”

Me, “He locked the seat up, it’s his seat.”

Ray, “Even over players already in the game, amazing,” as he started to put his chips in the rack…he was leaving.

My thought, then go quietly please.

Ben got his seat. Ray kept mumbling about how amazing it was that a new player could have a seat choice over someone that had been playing…blah, blah, blah, and finally left. But he came by the table after cashing out and gave me a, “Sorry, Honey.”

And I’m sure he still believed that I was wrong. Shouldn’t he know the rules? Don’t even try to answer that one.

The 7s in this game, Josh, is someone I’ve been dealing to off and on for a few years. He’s not consistently a regular but plays often enough that we greet each other and we’ve never had any kind of dispute when he’s played and I’ve dealt. This session changed that.

He was grumbling about his bad luck, in general, nothing specific directed at me or anyone else. He got involved in more than one pot while I was dealing and didn’t win. He also had several people walk up behind him and distract his game with conversation.

The hand that started all of the problem found him with buried A-A and he was the low card. The action ended up three way and all the raises went in. The down side of it is that Josh started this hand with a lone $100 bill and a few chips in front of him. He dropped a roll of $100’s on the table and when fourth street hit, he had $15 left in chips.

He threw out a $100 and I told him it didn’t play, that he could only play the $15 in chips.

He informed me that he had pulled this money out of his pocket when he put in his ante. When this hand started, he was interrupted by a visitor and that may be why his money didn’t go on the table, he had it in his hand.

I told him that he may have pulled it out of his pocket but it didn’t go onto the table until after the action started.

He argued. None of the other seven players agreed with him or me, they never said a word. Normally if someone saw him bring out the money, they would have jumped in on his behalf.

I asked him if he wanted me to call for a decision.

He emphatically informed me that if I did, Suzie would favor his side.

I said, “No she wouldn’t. She’d make the correct decision.”

Josh, “I guarantee you, she will favor me in the decision.”

I said, “Make up your mind now. Do you want a decision? Don’t wait until the hand is over and then decide you want one.”

He grumbled that he didn’t want one but still insisted that the money had been on the table and he’d never had a problem with me before, why were we having one now.

I didn’t even answer. He lost the hand to two small pair.

The 5s looked at me and asked if I was ready for a drink.

I said, “Hell Y-E-S!” We both laughed.

I went on down the line right into a little rock and roller $4-$8 Holdem game. They just wanted to gamble…thank you, God!

Sometimes I have more fun at work than the law allows, this is one of those cases. Bill L. plays mostly $8-$16 Holdem at Bellagio, although he’s been around for quite some time. I believe I posted about him a few years ago because I dealt him seven Aces in four hands…yup…that would mean he had pocket Aces three hands back to back and picked up a lone Ace in the fourth hand. He’s usually talking, win or lose, and while he may sound like he’s ‘grouching’ at times, he’s really quite funny and entertaining.

I skipped into an $8-$16 Holdem game that was all guys and most of them were drinking and gambling. The 1s was a very healthy, good looking bundle of noise about the same age as my kids. His friends were playing at the next table and they had all come to town…to do what? Party is my guess.

Bill was in the 7s and jumping in and out of the conversation. He said he was stuck. I asked, “How many lap dances?”

Yes, that’s always how he jokingly calculates the amount he’s stuck, in lap dances.

He blurted out a figure like 12 or 15 or something like that and the 1s went nutz-z-z-z with it. He gave up the info that he was a lawyer, his father was a lawyer, they were going to open a strip joint. No, I don’t know where. He was loud and everyone was laughing like they’d been served laughing gas instead of cocktails…I was laughing too. Someone he knew would handle all the action, licenses, etc.

The conversation sped off to the Pink Lollipop (or something like that name) in Florida. Other guys at the table knew about it. They went into a run about the Strippers at that joint and how much money they made. Then they jumped into how much the house gets from each lap dance, if they had a private dance, etc. Some arguing there because a few of the boys felt they were the experts on the subject.

I said, “Why not ask Bill?”

Their attention momentarily shifted to Bill and he said, “It’s really hard to get those fifty cent pieces to stay in their G-strings.”

Hysterical!

The 1s barely took time to suck air during my down…he was so busy talking and laughing. Once during my deal, he started talking about the possibilities on the board when there was a lot of action. I shushed him. He informed me that anyone playing at the table could see what was on the board.

I did a, “Listen, when you run the girls, you tell them what to do. But when you’re in my game, you do what I tell you.”

He roared. He told me his mother’s name was Linda.

When I hit the next table, three of his friends were in the game and they were chiding him that nothing was sacred and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut…”You even told her your mother’s name, GAWD!”

Just think of the havoc they could wreak in this town…mothers hide your daughters.

Last night was my debut on the WPT, dealing the Ultimate Bet Aruba event – see Aruba Reports in the Categories Menu. I had to work so I taped it. Well how else could I make a zillion copies and send it to all my family and bore them to death with what I do for a living? After all, the rest of my relatives all seem to live normalish kind of lives…but then again, what the hell is normal? I certainly have no idea.

I came home from work, after having a few glasses of wine with a friend…which by the way, was a great time in itself…and had a few more glasses of wine as I watched the tape. I even looked like I knew what I was doing in the video. Sweet!

Of course I was exhausted and finally dozed off during the last part of it but the good news is that I can watch it in length on days off, with more wine and friends. I believe it airs again on Saturday for any of you that might have missed it…of course you want to watch it, silly, I’m in it!

I had a little bit of fun about a week ago while dealing to a poker tyrant named Tom. He’s been around since my early Mirage days and he’s always got A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E! His main game is 7 card stud but he’s advanced to Holdem over the last few years. Same attitude.

If he’s low card in stud, for two to three hands, he starts glaring, staring, and fidgeting – mixed in with mumbles – and he flings his bring-in at the pot. If he loses a hand, God help the poor cards as he tries to loft them into the rack with more mumbling, kill looks at the dealer, and ATTITUDE.

One time at The Mirage, while I was sitting a deadspread, he was sitting there waiting for a game to start. He told me he used to be a dealer…well, hell, ain’t that always the way it is? He said he didn’t know why or how he could become so angry when he took a beat and he couldn’t control it.

I always wondered if he saw something on TV that he didn’t like, if he broke the TV set or if the food he was cooking stuck and burned in the pan, if he took a chainsaw to the stove. How do these people survive in day to day living without someone else ripping the tyrant’s head off for their insane actions.

From those days to the present, nothing has changed with him. He needs a valium every time he plays, his stress level and blood pressure must shoot sky high as soon as he smells a poker chip.

I dealt to him in a $30-$60 Holdem game and his attitude sucked. He took several walks, giving up free hands and then coming back to post the Blind. Then he moved into a $60-$120 Stud game that was about an hour ahead of me. He was in rare form when I got there. Glaring and staring with ‘ugly eyes’ growing out of his face.

He lost a hand and stomped off after flinging his cards at the rack. The player that won the pot said, “He always thinks someone else is supposed to lose.”

He came back, moved over two seats from the six to the four, and proceeded to lose another hand. He picked up all seven of his cards and lofted them into the rack while he mutter/mumbled and prepared to take another walk.

I got him before he got away. As he lofted the cards, I very loudly stated, “Thank you! It’s always such a pleasure to deal to you.”

That stopped him. He took the time to look at me, and I at him, as I finished with, “You are the biggest cry baby I’ve ever seen.”

He ran then. The rest of the players kept their hands down and looked at the green felt as I shuffled and dealt.

I was so happy! See how easy it is to make my day.

Let me finish the tale that I started yesterday, of the moon being a half moon, and the second table I dealt where I thought people were going to fight.

My last down of the night, Table 29, nine handed, $4-$8 Holdem. The 3s was somber and grouchy. The rest of the table was talkative and gambling. Three of the guys in the game were doing shots of ‘Jack’ and beer chasers and having a hell of a good time while they were doing it.

The 5s was one of the ‘shooters’ and just from the look of him, I knew he’d been in more than one fight. Yes, it was the scars on his face that gave it away. They weren’t the kind of scars that you get from riding a bike too fast and hitting a wall. He wasn’t rough looking or ‘ripped’ but I just knew from looking at him that he never backed down from a fight. He wasn’t going to here either.

He was having fun, talking and jamming, laughing because he was here for two weeks and when someone asked him if he was here for a job, he said his job was to lose money…laughter here. He’d lost $4,500 playing blackjack and his friend was a high limit player…more laughing.

The 3s tried to get up and make a table transfer on his own. He went to Table 24, right next to us, and sat down. Several players questioned his being able to move. I had already called out to Lee, the dealer on 24 and asked her how many seats she had open. That brought the Graveyard Brush person over and they told the 3s that he had to return to our game.

He dropped like a dead brick in the three seat and demanded that I deal him out…even though he had free hands coming.

I pleasantly asked, “Why not put your name on the transfer list and as soon as you can move, they’ll let you know?”

He snarled, “I know how to play the game. I know what I’m doing.”

The 5s was more than pleasant, “That’s not what she was saying, she’s trying to help you.”

The 3s grumbled some more.

The game went on. The 5s asked the 3s why he didn’t take free hands. He said he wasn’t trying to pry or be mean but why not take the hands.

The 3s said he didn’t want to play. The 5s asked him why he didn’t just leave then…not in a mean manner but like a child asking a question that he feels he needs to have an answer.

The 3s grouched, “Who the fuck are you?”

I leaned over the table and barked, “Stop it! That’s enough!” at the 3s.

The 5s started taking off his watch. Aghhhh! The 5s wasn’t going to take any heat and he wasn’t going to just let it ride if the 3s said one more thing. I would have put all of my money on the 5s at this point…plus the fact, I liked his attitude and didn’t like the shitty attitude of the 3s.

With the perfect timing of the Cavalry, the Brush came over and told the 3s he could move. Whew! I think it was lucky for him.

A little bit of chitter chatter took off about the 3s. I looked at the 5s and he was putting his watch back on. I said, “I knew what you were doing.”

He replied, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have hit you…”

I never thought he would.

The 1s said he was glad I demanded the 3s stop immediately and wanted to know if all dealers were trained to do that. I didn’t answer that question. I’ve seen a lot of dealers just let a situation go and the players end up in a war, it breaks up the game, the room, the night, and it’s an ugly end to an evening that should have been fun.

The upside. My head seems to be on straight. My extremely busy life, jam packed into a container so tight the world would be destroyed if the container blew, appears to have a self healing seal and I’m back on track. Whew! I was even worried about myself there for awhile.

My screenplay is zipping along. I’m almost finished with it and then comes the magic…throw it in the corner for a few days and get ready to write and rewrite but I’m still jazzed about it. Then of course comes all the little tugs of self doubt…will anyone find it appealing? Is it just me that thinks it’s worth reading and making into a movie? The bottom line is I write because I enjoy it. Yes, I’d like to make a living at it but if not, it’s therapy for me and I’m going to keep writing.

But right into poker. I hit the Sport’s Book on a break and ran into Annie Duke. She was so animated and happy, she’d just won the Omaha 8 or Better event at the WSOP. We did the girl ‘hug thing’ and I gave her the heartiest of congrats. She was on her way to celebrate. I was on my way back to the box.

Andy’s back in town, the big game is on. Craig was sitting with him when I went to work last night. I got to say ‘hello’ to both of them before I hit the dealer’s chair. Craig, send me an email, PLEASE!

I know the moon wasn’t full, it was about half, last night but I thought I was going to have a fight at two tables. $15-$30 Holdem on the first one. The 4s and 5s in the Blinds. The 4s asked the 5s if he wanted to ‘chop’. The 5s said ‘no’. The battle ended on the Turn when the 5s gave up his hand.

The 4s pursued the chopping issue a little further, the 5s said he only chopped when he had a bad hand. I explained that’s not the way it works and got chided by another player that said the 5s knew and I didn’t have to explain it. Well, alrighty then!

The very next hand, the 5s and the 6s chopped. The 4s appeared to be a little ballistic about it and called the 4s a ‘dumb fuck’. I immediately told the 4s that was uncalled for.

Now the 6s jumped in the middle of it and said he was the father of the 5s and they were always going to chop and I shouldn’t let the 4s say what he said. Yeah, right! Give me a mouth clamp so I can slap it on some of these guys while I hold the deck in the other hand.

The 5s asked me to call the Floor. I did. I explained the situtation to Boba. He told the 5s that if he chopped, he chopped with everyone. He also told the 4s that the language and name calling would not be tolerated and if it happened again, he would be out of the game.

A little more chitty chatter from the 5s and 6s. The 4s clammed right up.

Before I left the game, I told the 5s and 6s that if they didn’t want to go to war with each other in the Blinds, they could always elect to just fold or call and check it out. That’s what some of the players do that don’t chop but they have a favorite they don’t want to battle with.

The other table? I don’t have time for right now, it will have to come later. The shower and work is calling my name, I’d like to be rolled over but that won’t work so I’d better show up.

My first game was $30-$60 Holdem. Everything was rolling along, no pain or anguish, and Lei Lei came over to speak with Yen. Of course Yen was in a hand and they were speaking in a foreign language. All I said was, “English please.”

Lei Lei is well endowed and leaves very little to any one’s imagination so Jeff P. had to jump in and say, “Lei Lei, you can talk to me in any language you want.”

That gave Yen the signal to jump and jump she did. “The only one it bothered was the dealer. The dealer had to say something.”

I got feisty. “It’s the house rule.”

Yen knows it’s the house rule but she never slowed down, “The dealer had to say something, she couldn’t stay out of it…”

I said, “If I don’t say something, someone’s unhappy, if I do say something, someone’s unhappy.”

She said, “No one complain, you don’t have to say anything.”

I said, “Yeah, I’m a bitch.”

Jeff finally tore his eyes away from Lei Lei’s retreating form and wanted to know what was going on. I said, “Help me out here, you know it’s the house rule.”

He never said a word. Loss of points for Jeff here in my book, not that he was ever in the top 100 anyway.

Yen still made another comment about my being the only one that it mattered to, no one else cared.

I said, “Yup, just how I want to start my night out, getting my butt chewed out for doing my job.”

Tom, a player that used to live in town and now only comes to town on occasion, was in the 5s and he gave me the ‘just forget it’ wave…he knew I was right. I did drop it. The game went on.

*****

A few hours later, $4-$8 Holdem. They were gambling. The 10s bet a hand on the River and got called by the 3s. The 10s turned up pocket 4’s. There was a pair of 10’s on the board.

As the 3s was throwing her hand away, she turned it so the other end of the table could see it – all of this happened very fast – and I could see she had paired the 7 on the board with her J-7. The 1s quickly exclaimed that she had a winner just as she dropped her hand. She did drop it face down but she didn’t pitch it in, it was within a few inches of her hand.

Before I could think about mucking it, she grabbed it back (thanks to the 1s informing her she had a winner). I told the 1s that he couldn’t say anything unless her hand was turned face up on the table. But it was too late, the damage was done. Her hand was NEVER going to be declared dead by our house rule so I awarded her the pot.

The 8s and 10s thought it was unfair. The 10s had a small fit that the 1s had said anything.

I tried to be diplomatic, “We can’t stop conversation at the table and I’ve already told him that he cannot read a player’s hand unless it’s face up on the table.”

The 10s continued a bit longer (hey the pot had about $16 in it) and I said, “I’m not taking anyone’s side. The way our rule reads, she would get the pot.”

The 10s now got a little hot with me and told me I was definitely taking someone’s side.

I just let it go with, “Ok. I am.”

The game went on with the 3s mouthing at me, “I’m sorry.”

*****

My last game of the night? $600-$1,200 7 Card Stud…what else? Don’t worry, Cuckoo was in the 8s. He was calm while he visited with the players and got involved in a few hands. He won a big pot in which he beat Morad’s trip Jacks with a straight. After I pushed the pot to Cuckoo, he stood up, then dropped a couple of $1 chips for a tip by the rack.

I said, “Thank you.”

He said, “You really take it personal when I get out of line at the table,” and gave me a finger poke in the right shoulder.

‘Uhmmmmhhhmmm! Hell yes I do when you’re pelting cards at my stomach and chest. Why shouldn’t I?’ Those were thoughts that ran through my head but I waited until he sat back down before I responded.

As I dealt the next hand, I said, “As long as you’ve been playing cards…”

His reply was something like, “I know. And I know better.”

It’s like he was trying to make amends and expecting me to think it’s all ok. Well damn it, it isn’t all ok. How many times should someone throw cards at me and then apologize or try to smooth it over and then repeat the same process over and over?

Grow up Pros, figure it out. You’re poker face is leaking when you’re throwing cards and swearing. Fix it.

I’ve hit the wall. It’s the black poker hole that opens up and slams you into it and just when you think you might sift through the cracks, you hit the wall. I can’t stand anyone in the poker room right now…don’t take it personally…I can’t stand myself. That’s the crux of the problem. I don’t want to be there, don’t want to think about it and don’t want to see anyone.

Well I am there, too many nights a week and after the tournaments and high limit games, I’m ready to dive into the black poker hole, head first just so hitting the wall will knock me out.

Sick, ain’t it? Yup. Can’t be helped though, we all go through it from time to time but lots of us just won’t admit it. Consider this my confession.

I can’t stand to look at Cuckoo. He was in the room tonight, not playing but hanging out. I wondered how he’d look with a deck of cards shoved down his throat.

Israeli Mike or Mike D. He’s been loitering in the Sports Book for the last six months or so but hasn’t played poker that I know of. He cuts through the room now and then and give me the LOOK if we happen to cross paths. Tonight he was playing A.J.’s chips in a $75-$150 Stud game with A.J. sweating him. I can’t stand to look at Mike either. I don’t want him to breathe in my direction as I prefer fresh air.

Sam G. has been doing a lot more walking and talking than he has playing but since he’s the greatest player on Earth, he must just be giving the other players a break…yeah, right!

I sat down to deal a five handed $80-$160 Omaha 8 or Better with a Kill and Sam sat down to post between the Button and the Blind.

I announced, “Time Pot.”

He jumped up mumbling that he ‘wasn’t paying no time,’ and made a phone call. A few minutes later Nate came looking for him. Sam stayed on the phone. The game I was dealing broke up. Grant was still sitting there with chips and Sam jumped into a seat trying to conjure up a Holdem game.

Grant said, “Ok, what limit?”

Sam said, “$80-$160.”

I looked at Grant and said, “There’s a main game and a must move game. If you start a game it has to be a different limit.”

Sam tried to waltz his way around all of it and told Grant they could start anything.

Nate scurried up and told Grant to pick up his chips, he was locking up the table.

Sam said, “Well, what if we want to start a game here?”

Nate replied with a long line of explanation that went something like this, “Didn’t you tell the dealer down there,” and he motioned to another table, “to deal you in, you were going to get chips?”

Nate paused but didn’t even give Sam a chance, “And the dealer did deal you in and you never showed up…and I have several player’s word on your statement.”

Sam hemmed and hawed that he didn’t do that and him and Grant wanted to start a game.

Nate just laughed and said, “Not for you Sam, maybe someone else but you’ve got no shot here,” as he locked the box and I left chuckling.

Well…that’s how sick I am right now. If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry. Hello black hole!