It may work, but does it improve me?

I had a great week at the cash tables. In fact, other than the Mookie and tonight's event with the birthday girl, I didn't play any tournaments this week.
What I did do is three-table $25 NL poker and did well every night, save for one night when my set got oversetted and a guy sucked out on my QQ with A,J (twice in the same night, eerie).
I wonder, though, how healthy this is for my game.
In some ways I believe it improves me. The money doesn't mean as much, so I'm able to play more aggressively. I believe that's partly the key to my success this week.
But in other ways I"m not sure. Trolling around and waiting for others to make mistakes is not necessarily power poker. Even when I'm bluffing and pushing people off hands every night, for the most part I"m simply waiting for mistakes.
I remember when I was playing the $10 tables at Bodog Poker. I probably made $400 in two months by three-tabling those babies for two hours every night. Was the poker interesting? Sort of. It was still poker. But was it profitable? You bet.
I haven't played $25 in so long, and yet that's where most of my profits probably come from. I have played a lot of $50 and done well there. I"m only slightly ahead at $100, and I think that's because the money means a lot more.
Is it good for my game to play at a low level? I'm not sure. The players are better than they were two years ago when I started. Are they a LOT better? No. Are most any good? Not really.
Is the money good however?
You bet.
What do you all think about this?


In the meantime, here's what I'm talking about:




Hope to see you there.

Crushing the Minnows

I have never "gotten" American Idol.
I don't begrudge too many folks for watching it. But really it's a crappy show. It's an overblown karaoke contest, and the winner gets to release a bad album. I mean did anyone like Taylor Hicks' album? Really?

I'm saying that, of course, not to bag on karaoke, so relax, Soul Brother. Karaoke is fine for what it is. Most of the people having fun in a bar, I'm assuming, aren't out for a record deal.
There's a lot more to singing than just getting the notes right (and half of this year's contestants don't seem to nail that too well). There's expression and mood and, most of all, interpretation, and every single singer, save, maybe, for Kelly Clarkson, are about as interesting as a bowl of Cherrios in skim milk. There's no style, surprisingly little substance and yet it's the top show every week.
I don't get it.
Which is why I love Sanjaya.




American Idol fans recoil in horror at this mess of a human being. Pot Committed, in her brilliant reviews of the show (almost makes me want to watch it, but I've long since been one of her blog's biggest fans, so she could write about the virtues of lawn care and I'd read it), tells us to put Sanjaya out of his misery.
No way, Jose.
Sanjaya exposes the show for what it is. They picked him, now they can deal with him. Vote for this guy every week until he's the winner. Please. Everyone sucks anyway. Let's have some fun with it and embarass the show. It certainly deserves it.



In the meantime, I have been feeding on the minnows at $25 NL poker again. I hadn't played it for months but I've gotten back to it on Ultimate Bet. Why? I deposited $200 there just before the whole Neteller thing went down. Since then I've treated each bankroll on my three poker sites as a separate account. I haven't signed up for ePassporte yet because I'm a little leery after still having $700 of my monies being trapped in virtual land. If others have had good experiences with it let me know.
So now my bankroll is $475 on Ultimate Bet, and so I'm still being responsible with it. Plus the players still are bad there. It's almost hard to resist. I'll start playing $50 soon, once I build the bankroll a little more on UB.
I find myself playing more and more cash games these days and fewer and fewer SnGs. I've found my win rate is much higher in the cash games.
Plus, speaking of the non-minnow crowd, I've found that stuff like the tournament below seems to satisfy my appetite for tournaments.

And here's where you'll see me tonight:




We've had a good crowd the last couple of times, so stop on by and watch me blow another big lead!

Congrats on all you who picked UCLA

Now please go and blow that money you won on Pai Gow.

If you're here expecting to see an article on parental love thanks to a flattering link from this awesome site, hello, welcome, no my kids won't be degenerate gambooolers and sorry you've haven't slept well lately. Please scroll down a couple.

As for the rest of you, well, Saturday afternoon was not my best moment as a Kansas fan and graduate. They lost by playing about as well as a fifth grade recreational weekend basketball team with braces on their teeth, legs and heads.

It was a nice year, for sure, another conference title and a deep run in the tournament for the first time in three years. The Elite Eight is nothing to scoff at, and the Hawks lost to UCLA, a great team with as much tradition as us.
And yet I thought this was our year. I guess I believed all the pundits. I suppose that's because I'm one myself.
Damn pundits.
It seems like the future is bright, given that we're all sophomores and freshmen, save for a junior or two, but we might lose at least one player to the NBA. Such is college basketball these days. It's a game ruled by players who probably still carry a Trapper Keeper.

I have often wondered why I care so much about a team. Sure, I went to school there, but how they do in a game has no bearing on my life. And yet it does affect my happiness. When they win I'm pumped, and when they lose, well...I'm not quite as bummed as I once was, now that I have a kid and twins on the way, but I'm still depressed.

So here's my question. Why are we fans? Why do we care so much? Why does it matter if our team wins or loses? I'm interested to hear from you all on this.

np, sir - lololololololol

Oh yeah, poker.
I've gotten away from writing about poker, given that I have no real stragety tips to offer here that you haven't read AQ other times, with Q being the number of books you've read and A being the number of blogs you've read, minus Waffle's rants and the OMGYOUFKINGSUKs you've seen in the chat box.
And if you haven't read me in a few days, or you're over here from the twins blog, sleep deprived and wondering why someone would devote hours of their limited time to playing cartoon characters on the intertubes, then I encourage you to scroll down and read the last two posts, as those are much better examples of my writing ability, such as it is.
Onto the Mookie. Well, I was smoking the Mookie like a ham last night. As it has the last few times I've played the Mook, the deck was slapping me in the face, as if I was making ill-timed passes at it, like the "arm stretch over the couch" move. The Mookie loves me for some reason.
But I finished 11th. That's right. I did not make my fourth final table in a row. I did not cash for the third time in five tries. Why? you ask. I thought you said the deck was slapping you in the face.
Well, I was an idiot.
I had a nice chip lead and probably could have coasted to the final table, despite the blinds that were eating up the smaller stacks, Pac-Man style, and snacking on timid players on the side. I had 7,7. I just call. I get raised in the BB.
So. What do you do. I have the guy covered by 2xs the amount of chips. Just call? Not a bad play. But I re-raised him all in. He has KK and suddenly I'm in sixth and fading fast. I have no choice but to push with A,Q, not my favorite hand to push with, and I lose to QQ and I"m out in 11th.
Yeah, yeah, Gordon Pair principle, equity, attacking chip stacks that can afford to fold (which he could), blah blah blah. The bottom line is I made a play that I normally would never make, and it cost me dearly.
It's bothered me quite a bit. But, thankfully, I have learned a few things from it:
• Playing big stack poker is an art. It's an art that Smokee and Lucko and TripJax and others can do so well, it looks easy. Hey, it's not easy. You have to know when to push and when to back off. I'm learning how to play with a big stack, and I'm doing better at it, but I'm much more comfortable with a medium to smaller stack. I've won many SnGs, small MTTs and The Mookie by hanging around and then going on a rush at the end to win.
• The reason for that is I am a solid, tight/aggressive, Harrington-like player. And you know what? It's a successful style. I'm not a rock, I bluff, blah blah blah, but the one thing I do well is I almost always get my money in when I'm ahead. I almost never suck out. I'm a winning player because of this.
That's harder to do than it sounds, but that's what I do, and I should appreciate my style more, rather than get all enamored with fancy-play syndrome.
But when you do play that way, you usually aren't going to have a huge stack, unless the cards are just too kind, as they were last night. I mean, I had AA five times, and I had action on them. Five times. My golden retriever/lab mix could probably make the final table with those kinds of cards.
The bottom line is I don't have a lot of experience playing with a huge stack and it shows. I'm getting better, and my MTT play has improved a ton since three months ago.
I really respect Lucko and players like him who can get a big stack and use it to push people around. I'm not there yet, and I've got a long way to go to learn how to effectively wield one without running into trouble. Poker, as always, is a work in progress. I'll continue to experiment and tool my game, but if I'm ahead, as I was last night, I'll still be cautious.
I did not have a monster, monster stack. That's a different thing all together. But even so I had a stack to play with and I blew it.
I've learned that if you play too far outside your natural style, without the proper studying and experience, you'll fail.
Good job to those of you who made the Final Table last night. I wish I could have been there. Congrats to you all for staying within yourselves. Maybe next time I'll join you.

And then one day, he looked up and smiled

I'm writing a new column for the Greeley Tribune, something that tries to capture slices of life. Next week's column will be on a 4th grader who came out of her shell to sing at a performance of "Annie."

But I wanted to start it with a personal column, and I figured this would make a good blog entry as well. I don't know if I'll share the column every week. It kind of depends on you.

See you at the Mookie tonight.



Here it is:





As many times this column will rely on strangers sharing some personal confessions, let me start it by offering one of my own.
I did not expect to love my son as much as I do.
I expected to be a good father. I expected to raise him right. I expected to have him want to stay with me, one day, and hold my hand as I took my last few breaths of life.
But I expected to hold back a bit. It’s what I’ve always done in life. Only those closest to me, my wife, my parents and my brother, have bridged the gap between them and my heart. I’ve had close relationships, man hugs, poker buddies, a crew of adults for game nights, really good friends and lots and lots of acquaintances, but I always budgeted the amount of emotional investment I stashed into them.
That didn’t mean I didn’t care about them. Far from it. I cared about some a great deal. But the gap, even if it was a small one, served a purpose: It was much easier that way.
If the relationships faded, and many times, they did, even the ones I cherished, it was OK to remember the good times and say goodbye.
Even today, most of my relationships are safe and somewhat distant.
Only Jayden, in his 21 months, has reached what I call The Daddy Spot.
There’s nothing safe about the Daddy Spot. When he hurts, I hurt. When he cries, even about stupid stuff like when he wants to use our computer and his allotted time is up, my heart breaks. And when he’s not with me, I worry.
I not only didn’t expect this, I am shocked by it. Before I had kids, I didn’t really like them. I thought of them as demanding little creatures with sticky hands and dirty diapers. As someone who valued his free time more than money (and I keep a pretty tight budget), I didn’t look forward to my moments with a great book, a great movie, a great card game, a great dinner with my wife or a great trip to the mountains being replaced by spit up, “Goodnight Moon” and trips to McDonalds.
I still found myself a little resentful after he was born. Kate, who didn’t care if I went for this run or played that softball game suddenly and understandably questioned the moments I wasn’t home. When I was home, which was a little more than I initially liked, Jayden sat in my lap and cried all the time.
To help Jayden bridge my gap, Kate often pointed out that it was my voice, among the symphony of voices he heard, that connected with him. His eyes would widen, and he would look around to find out where I was.
Then, one day, when he did find me, probably whining about how tired I was and ready for a break, he looked up and smiled.
A baby’s smile isn’t as piercing, frantic or unsettling as a cry, but it works exactly the same way. It grabs your attention and latches on, refusing to let go, until you act.
When a baby cries, you change a diaper, get a bottle or walk up and down a staircase 40 times.
When a baby smiles, you begin to love it in a way that you never thought it was possible to love another human being.
At least, I didn’t.
The goal of this column is to offer you slices of life, packaged at times with a deeper meaning that we all must find in ourselves. Most of the time, we’ll explore them through other people. Occasionally, I’ll do it myself.
Kate is pregnant again, and this time, I expected things to be fine. I could do it. In fact, maybe this time, the baby wouldn’t have to work so hard to bridge the gap. Maybe I’d extend a hand and lead her along.
One month ago, we found out we’re having twins.
Oops.
All those feelings of anxiety, of worry and downright fear are back. I worry for Jayden. I worry for Kate. I worry mostly for myself.
How will I find enough time to fall in love again?
I will attempt to remind myself that I’m more confident welcoming a newborn across the gap than last time.
I will attempt to remind myself to continually lower the bridge.
And in these next couple months, until the girls arrive, I will attempt to remind myself that diapers are diapers, sleep is overrated and your free time isn’t gone, it’s just different.
Mostly, though, I’ll work really hard on saving enough space for twins, next to their big brother, in The Daddy Spot.

The most obvious solutions usually the most painful ones as well

When I drove home fro m the vet’s office Friday, I found myself down, even more than usual.
I had reason for it. Denali’s teeth would need to be cleaned, something that would cost us a bill we really couldn’t afford. The vet bill was another $450 just for an annual exam for two dogs and some heart worm medication. But the money wasn’t it.
It was Dakota.
We got Denali almost five years ago. Kate and I were engaged to be married, and she was allergic to cats. I had a cat, a wonderful creature I loved dearly. I had to choose between her and Kate, and after a tougher decision than you might think, I chose Kate. I gave the cat up to a good friend. She went to a good home. But it broke my heart.
We went to the shelter three weeks before I’d have to give up GK to get a dog. I’ve always needed a pet, and welcoming a new creature in my life would at least soften the blow.
We were planning on a husky, but for some reason, we paused at the yellow lab mix with the wide smile, warm eyes and tail that seemed to wag back and forth, every second, like a grandfather clock.
He peed on the floor when we went to meet him. He’d obviously been abused. But as Kate petted him, he leaned more and more into her hand.
We were hooked.
Denali, in a home that loved him, finally, sprouted confidence. It wasn’t long before we grew concerned about the way he whined whenever he saw another dog. It would be nice, we thought, to give him a friend.
We got Dakota, the black lab mix, soon after at a Second Chance rescue home. It was a good experience. We swore we would not get a puppy, just as we swore we would get a husky. But I took Denali over to the home to allow him to pick the dog, and there was something in the way the little puppy played and played with him that we both liked. We got her.
The next day, she destroyed our couch.
And she played with Denali until they both sat, panting, in the middle of the living room.
And she soon learned to jump on the bed and curl up in a ball in the small half-moon that my sleeping form created.
And she continued to pee on the rug, even after she was housebroken.
Dakota was like that, an unruly teenager, a princess, a toddler going through the terrible 2s, an angel and a wonderful friend to Denali all at once. She enjoyed training, yet she loved to ignore Kate when she called her in every morning. She cuddled with Denali even as she attempted to eat his food whenever we turned our backs.
She was a pain in the ass, and she was a good dog.
Then Jayden was born.
Denali tolerated Jayden crawling all over him, even if he looked at us with pleading eyes. Dakota, however, growled at him even when Jayden simply passed her by.
Things continued to get worse.
I thought about the twins coming, and I asked myself why we were paying a lot of money for a dog that worried us.
It’s been a busy month. Busier than I would like. Getting ready for the twins has taken more time, I’m convinced, than getting ready for Jayden, and he was our first baby. Too busy, in fact, to think about serious decisions like giving up a dog.
On that drive home, in 10 minutes I was convinced we needed to do it. It hit me all at once. I could no longer pretend that I was too busy to really think about our future.
The problem was, giving her up would go against everything I stood for as an animal lover. I am not a PETA freak. I eat meat. I respect hunting and fishing. I wear leather jackets. But I also believe animals are not throwaways. And after looking into giving Dakota away to a family once, this time, we would simply have to surrender to the animal shelter.
We were, in a sense, throwing her away.
Many times we know something is the right decision, but because its painful, we put it off. How long have we stayed with a bad relationship because we didn’t want to face the hurt from a breakup? We’ve all done it once. For months I knew Dakota probably couldn’t stay with us. I couldn’t answer yes to this simple question: Would you trust her in a room, alone, with Jayden or the twins?
But the vet led me to deal with it.
Today we surrendered her to the pound.
For some this blog may seem like a simple justification for choosing a simple path to a complex problem. The dog, a dog you obviously thought was a pain, acted a little nervous around your toddler when he bothered her, so you dumped her off to the shelter.
That’s possible.
For others it seems like an obvious decision. Your kid was in danger, and you were probably lucky nothing happened earlier.
That’s possible as well.
I don’t have an answer here.
All I know is when we got in the car today, I looked over at the backyard, and Denali had his paws up on the door, staring into the van, his best friend in the back seat.
His tail was silent.
All I know is Dakota whined and barked in her new cage at the shelter, and that’s what I heard, much more than the lady telling us she was certain Dakota would be adopted.
All I know is she is no longer here.
I sit here, late on a Saturday night, exhausted after a tough day. We got the car seats installed. We had a baby shower, and the living room is full of pink socks, pink tops and pink dresses that would fit a bunny rabbit. We worked on the nursery. We worked hard this weekend, and it seems like we barely made a dent in all we have to do.
And we gave up Dakota.
It’s the first quiet moment of the day, when the nursery can’t be updated, the clothes can’t be put away and the car seats can’t be installed.
It’s a time when I'm the most relieved at today’s painful decision.
And a time when I regret it the most as well.

Fighting the battle, winning the round

Monday was a turning point for my running.
I started doing it again.
I was sick, again, and as a result could not run for a week. I’ve done a decent job of keeping in shape this winter, although I haven’t run as much as I would have liked, nor as far nor as fast.
Plus my heel hurts, and it’s starting to turn into a nagging injury.
This is the downward spiral. You start to take a few days here and there off. Then you get a painful injury that takes some of the fun away (or a lot of the fun away). Then you take a week off, and boom, you’re on the couch and starting to embrace the sedentary lifestyle.
Or you do what I did. Monday, I ran five miles at an easy pace. I’m not going to lie to you. It sucked. It was harder than it should have been, and I was tired during the whole run. I looked at my GPS constantly to see where I was, as if I were on the treadmill and not out enjoying a wonderful spring day.
But I did it. And I felt good afterward. I felt better than I thought I would, actually. I’m not sore today. I feel good. I have some energy.
I’m back.
Keeping yourself in shape is much harder, in my opinion, than getting in shape. When you’re getting in shape, the pounds are coming off, people are commenting on your new, Tab-like
shape (check out Gracie's hilarious YouTube "Be A Mindsticker" find), you’re feeling wonderful about yourself, you’re reaching your goals of, say, running a 5K and then...two years later, you’re still running.
Now what?
That doesn't make us weak, although sometimes I tell myself that. Think about how many other things take maintenance, and maintenance isn't exciting. No one ever talks about an oil change or laundry or re-reading Harrington or Phil Gordon for the fifth time. But you've gotta do it. Look at relationships. Without maintenance, they crumble.
I’m setting new goals for myself starting today to help alleviate that. I’ve also started stretching out my heel every night. It seems to help. But for the most part, I’m running again.
It’s the small victories like Monday that help you win the battle.

Rock Chalk Jayhawk

I honestly thought meals of boiled race and cottage cheese, topped off with a cup full of Kaopectate were something to look forward to 40 years from now.
But alas.
Alas, I got to taste the chalky yet slightly candy-cane-like peppermint of everyone's favorite "runs" medicine for the first time this weekend, when, after what I thought was a bad cold turned out to be something, well, a little something more runny than just my nose.
Ugh.
Fortunately, two things cheered me up.
First was finishing 10th in my second 180 SnG on Stars. I had a chance to make a really good run at the top prize but my 7,7 lost to A,5 to runner, runner straight. Ah, well. It was fun. I'll play more, as the play in this was less than stellar.
Second was this:



My Kansas Jayhawks are the #1 seed in the West Region in the NCAAs!
Seriously, is there any other sporting event that even comes close to the tournament?

I played in Kansas' basketball band from 1991-93. Usually they took nine players, with only six traveling, and more than 30 usually tried out. Most practiced for months and fought like dogs for a chance to go to the Final Four, and that was just the band members. Competition was brutal. I was lucky to make it all three years I tried out, and I saw some awesome tournament games. College was a much better place for me and holds many golden memories because of tournament time.

So that's sort of carried over to my adult life. I don't let the tournament affect my home life. I don't yell at the TV anymore, now that a little one is running around and has barely heard Daddy raise his voice. I don't throw things. I don't kick the dogs. But I still live and die for the games, especially now.

Kansas beat Texas in one of the best games I've seen for the Big 12 tournament title.
I just hope my insides heal in time for Friday's first-round game. They're going to need to handle the stress.



Rock Chalk Jayhawk!!!




Edit: Here are the details of the baby pool. Three picks per date. Pick when the twins will be born. Due date is June 3, but consider that most twins aren't born on the due date. In fact, the average is 35 weeks, so from late April on we're on call.


It's $5 to enter. Since this is just outright gambling instead of poker, we can use any money system we want instead of Neteller and our government won't care. You can get it to me in three ways:
1) In person, where I"ll keep it in a white envelope in a secret location.
2) By PayPal. My email is dengl5@earthlink.net.
3) My Poker Stars or Full Tilt accounts. I"m pokerpeaker on both of those. If you do that, however, let me know through e-mail so I can keep track of it.
This is most definitely a one-time offer. Let's just say the doctor will, er, TAKE CARE of me as soon as I know those babies are healthy. Apparently I"m dangerous.
You can enter up to five times.

We have one contestant so far. Even if four enter, we'll have a pool!!!

Sick of it all (or that WAS the title before another good Mookie. How about yippieKI-A?

The alarm went off at 5:50 a.m. Wednesday, or exactly three seconds after I finally went back to sleep after a hiatus longer than "Jericho."
It started when Kate brought Jayden to bed at 4 a.m. to "encourage" him to drift back into toddler dreamland. It continued with my wife's snoring, who, bless her pregnant heart, is beginning to sound like the mating call of a warthog when she drifts off to dreamland. It was further helped by the big yellow dog, who decided that this would be a great time for a belly rub and maybe he'd better push himself up by my nose to receive one.
It ends tonight, with a suddenly stuffy nose, an achy body and a half-assed attitude toward The Mookie, although I find myself looking forward to it with every second. Something needs to go right today.
It's the perfect situation. If I do well, I get grub, a good time and the admiration of millions of bloggers worldwide. If I suck, I get to go to sleep and help my little white blood cell soldiers fight off whatever seems to think it can just move into my body and take over, like a crack addict moving into an empty building. Squatters rights!

• • •
Made the first break, sitting at T2700, in 8th place. Playing a little too tight, as usual, but won a big hand with a set of 4s on a 2,3,4 flop.

• • •

Top 5 things my wife (who is preggers with twins, in case you didn't know or have chosen NOT to enter the baby pool, which is all of you) has heard this week:
5) Wow, didn't you just have a kid? And now you're pregnant again?
4) Are you overdue (not even close)?
3) Holy cow you've gotten big!
2) Are you having triplets?
1) Are you supposed to be that big.

Here's a hint. Pregnant women don't like to be reminded three times a day that they are huge. They know they are huge. Kate has TWINS in her belly. She knows she is big.
Thanks.

• • • 

Second break I am chip leader after turning into such a card rack that you could hang me in Tiffany's. I bust Fuel, one of my mentors, with AA against his K,Q sooted.

Oh, and speaking of the Mookie...

I'll take 4th and a $42 cash any day.




I've completely forgotten about my cold. This makes three final tables in a row for me at The Mookie. I hope this gives me some much needed confidence in the future. Congrats to Astin for taking down an inevitable title. I knew it was only a matter of time for the raisy-daisy frog.

I'm going to bed. I just started to feel achy again.

Giving sking a cool reception, a Speaker-like experience and a move that made me turn 180 degrees

My alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. An emo band screamed in my ear. I didn't catch the name. I didn't care. Truth be told, I still don't.
I pulled on five layers of clothes, including a sweater that made my hair look like what I'm assuming is the style for the singer of the emo band.
I went outside to the 10-degree air (cold enough, if you're scoring at home or living in California, to keep your ice cream frozen, climbed in my car and drove a long hour to a Park N Ride named after a dinosaur.
I found what I think were Stegosaurus and Triceratops to be, well, extinct. Denver decided to tear two of the four lots out. I hope for improvements. City officials, in their infinite wisdom, chose the ski season to do this. As a result, I battled 573 other cars attempting to park in lots that had exactly seven spots left.
I don't think there is any other group more self-centered than skiers. At least skiers trying to get to the slopes. They parked in the middle of the lot to load their equipment in their friends' cars, attempted to pass me IN THE LOT (unsuccessfully, I might add) and forced me to drive out in the middle of traffic after refusing to let me in. These people make actors at an Oscars party look like a bunch of Red Cross volunteers.
Thankfully, most ski drivers are also stupid. I found a park about a football field's length away from the entrance to the last Park N Ride and enjoyed my pick of at least a dozen spots.
My brother picked me up, and, after fighting traffic for two hours (at 7:30 a.m.), we found a spot at Winter Park, walked to a hill, skied down it and promptly waited in line for 15 minutes for a spot on the lift.
The air was so cold my fingers almost immediately felt as if they had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. They would feel that way most of the day.
When we finally left at 2 p.m., with the long, long lines at the lifts, we had maybe a dozen runs under our fleece belts.
I used to love skiing. When my brother, who also used to be a ski fanatic, commented that, maybe, he was getting a little sour on skiing, I found myself daydreaming about a fun sled down a long hill.
Next year I trade in my skis for an inner tube.

• • •

I had a Speaker-like experience at Taco Bell Friday.
I don't like to name-drop too much on this blog. But one of the many things I love about Speaker's blog is his rants when he's not served properly at a resturant.
So here's my rant.
We walk in and wait at the cash register. Finally an employee saunters up and takes our order. After repeating myself at least four times — she could barely understand English, and while you won't see any redneck "Learn English or Else" comments in this blog, doesn't it seem to be a good business practice to put someone at the counter who can understand the language at least 60 percent of your customers will speak? — she told us to take our seat.
Now, I don't know about you, but when I go into a fast food joint, it ain't to enjoy the ambiance, unless plastic seats, sticky floors and pop music from 1997 is your idea of pleasant surroundings. No, I go there for cheap, easy, somewhat tasty food fast. So when we waited 10 minutes for our food, I wasn't exactly pleased.
And then when they got our order wrong, well, I was less pleased.
I went up to the counter. Um, yeah, I said, you forgot our bean burrito, you gave us a Quesadilla, and you forgot my order of Taquitos.
Anything else, the woman at the counter asked.
No, other than those three things, you nailed the order, I said.
Five minutes later, the rest of our order floated out to us. Brought by a guy who explained that the Quesadilla (which I kept) and the Taquitos were the same thing, except the Taquitos were rolled and the Quesadilla was flat.
He said this in a way that sort of made it sound like I was the idiot, like I should have known that, and how DARE I just not accept the flattened shell instead of the tasty rolled-up variety.
When he finished explaining the unique and special exotic differences of each Taco Bell entree item, I just looked down and took a bit of my Taquito and set aside the Quesadilla.
"Thanks for lunch tommorow," I said.
Ha.

• • •

In poker news, I managed to play two 180-player person SnGs at Poker Stars when I got home all chipper from skiing and after watching KU beat down Texas for sole possesion of the Big 12 title.
In the first one, I'll bet if I took a deck of cards, took out all the paint and those pretty A cards and scattered them on the floor and then took out seven other cards to decrease my chances of a pair and then shuffled and dealt those hands out one at a time, I would STILL better hands than what I got. I've never seen so many low-end hands in my life.
But in the second, after a stretch of cold cards, I got A,Q, pushed my meager stack in on a flop of 8,8,5, a guy with a draw called, and I doubled up. And then I went on a rush and got good cards and played them aggressively.
Pretty soon, I was 15th with 25 players left.
I get KK for the second time in a row.
My M is 15. So on an A high flop, what do I do? I push the rest of my stack. I win right there and I"m close to chip leader.
But the guy, who did not re-raise me, calls off most his stack with A,8 and I do not improve.
It was a $4.50 SnG, so I wasn't concerned about cashing, but I did miss the money by six spots.
I told myself that I wouldn't care about the cash, I still had 15 spots, all with plump stacks, to decent money. But later the move really bothered me. A lot more than I thought it would.
I think now it was the Stupidest Play Of The Year. I had a tight image, yes, but checking it down (there was a third player all in with a short stack before the flop) would still leave me with 10 BB. I had outplayed most of the field and was catching cards. There was no need for desperation. And why play for two hours if you're just going to donk off your stack on a board that shows even a stupid call can beat you?
Anyone else hate the play as much as me?
Thought so.


And oh yeah, since it was cancelled last time, even if I am working, I may just try to play in this:

Online poker mac

The mind of a 2-year-old

The title is two-fold. For one of those folds, see below. For the first, my brain pouted and threw itself on the floor and kicked and screamed after getting clobbered in showdowns with way the best hand in SnGs. If my hands hold up when they should last night I'm ahead probably $35. Instead I'm down that much.
I was planning on feeling sorry for myself, going on a Waffles rant and maybe having a crap in my diaper when I read Trip Jax's post entitled "The Bitch and Whine Fest" yet again and cured myself of my impending snit. I have had, after all, seven winning weeks in a row, and I'm still up almost $600 for 2007 playing fairly low limits, so eventually variance is gonna say "We ain't gonna have THAT!" and decide to kick me over and over until my lower region looks like a couple of playground kickballs.
Such is poker, and such is life, too.
The night started bad when I had connection issues with Full Tilt, and I was literally typing in "Vegas1" when the Mookie got underway. Great final table match, guys, and congrats to Schaub on another 2nd place finish.
I'll be at CC's bash tonight. See you there. Teach me something.
• • •

Here's the second fold, and I have to admit I got this idea (*cough ripped it off *cough) from this terrific blog about twins.

Here's a day in the life of Jayden when Dad takes care of him.

Oh, good, Clifford. I like that big red doggie.
Man, Daddy looks tired.
I'm thirsty. I want some milk. I'll take Daddy's hand and lead him to the kitchen.
Is that my pacifier? Oh man do I need that thing. Must. Have. Pacifier.
That's better.
Daddy keeps telling me to sit with him, but I'd rather walk around.
Hey, look, the dog's water bowl! Oh man is this thing fun. You can put stuff in the water bowl and splash around in it!
What's that yelling? Oh, Daddy keeps saying something like 'No." Wish I knew what that meant. It's pretty funny though.
Can we play on the computer?
This computer is great. I love doing this coloring game. I have no idea why Daddy looks so bored. We've only done it 500 times this week. That's not enough.
I want to look out the window. Maybe if I climb up on this ledge and then climb up on this other ledge and then climb up on this piece of furniture.
That's better. Why is Daddy saying that No word again? I want to see the moon!
Oh, is my diaper dirty? I hadn't noticed.
Hey, look! Something sharp! Cool!
Oh, rats. Daddy took it away.
OK, lunch time. Grilled cheese again? It's funny when I throw this on the floor and the doggies gobble it up. Dad is saying that No word again.
It's already time for a nap? What? No way, man. I'm not....even....tir.....
(Editor's note: Two hours later, I hope)

OK, I'm awake. Daddy. Daaaaady!!!! I'm alone in this crib and I don't like it.
Oh, there he is.
Hi, Daddy. I'm kinda sleepy. Can you hold me for a few minutes?
Although some juice would be great right now.
Why does Daddy keep taking my pacifier out of my mouth? I NEED that thing.
Now we're going to the place called Wal-Mart to buy food. It's fun to bend my back and hang onto the door so Daddy has to struggle to belt me in.
Wow, lots of stuff here, and....
wait....
IS THAT LITTLE EINSTEINS ON A BOX? HOLY MOLY I LOVE LITTLE EINSTEINS!!! Why is Daddy saying we can't buy that kind of cereal? No way am I letting go of this box. Daddy I'm serious I'm gonna scream.
Why is Daddy sighing and putting the box in the cart! This is a great day! The cereal looks really good too! (Editor's note: It wasn't, unless you like sugary cardboard).
OK, we're back. I'm going to celebrate by taking all the pots out of the bottom drawer and bang them together.
There's the water bowl again.
Can we play on the computer again?
NO? Why not?
Mom's home! Who-hoo!
Where did Daddy go?

Twins are not gypsies, grilled ribs and get the hell over yourself

I rarely, ever look at daytime TV. I consider it the equivalent of sitting in a pool of radioactive slime. It slowly, silently saps you of your life.
Unless it's poker or stuff my not-quite-yet 2-year-old likes like Clifford, Little Einsteins or JoJo.
So I was trying to look away when I was running on the treadmill at the gym Friday, enjoying my hour off from Mr. Mom day (thanks sweetie) with a run, when I saw twins.
Twins. TWINS. Hey! Cool! I'm very interested in all things twins. No, not for that reason. How dare you. Get your mind out of the gutter.
It's more because of THE BIG NEWS. They are due (get your baby pool entries in soon) starting at the end of April (June e officially), and I'm trying to learn as much as I can about them before the girls arrive.
So instead of looking away, I decided to sacrifice a brain cell or two and watch the daytime TV show on twins. Maybe they would be discussing funny habits, eerie similarities or, better yet, how to raise them without going to crazy that you want to carve out your eyeballs with a piece of broken glass.
No. Instead, they claimed they were Psychic Twins.
Er. OK. I gave it a chance. Maybe there was something there about how twins seem to communicate with each other without speaking or how they seem to have a bond that no one can explain.
The show still had me.
Until they started talking about Brad Pitt.
Oh, God.
These were Twins Who Were Psychic and used those Psychic Powers to see in the future and tell us which celebrities will get married.
Ow. Ow. Owwwwww.
Sorry. I just lost another brain cell even thinking about it.
Damn you, daytime TV. Now not only did you kill a few of my precious cells (Ow) but you pissed me off. Twins aren't freaks. They are not psychic. At least I don't think so. And if they were, they would NOT use those powers to tell us what's going to happen with Brad Pitt's personal life.
At least not my girls.

(By the way, if there are any of my new twin mom fans reading this, my wife, who is already showing at 30 weeks despite being 24 weeks pregnant (hi mom hi mom), her ribs really hurt. Any ideas?)

• • •

This was awards weekend in Colorado. It's one of my favorite weekends of the year. I like awards, probably far too much. I have to admit it. I'm competitive.
We're all supposed to be modest and say awards don't mean anything, but deep down we all want to be recognized and know that's bullshit. I'm OK with the fact that I like awards even if they are just one judge's opinion and they are so screwy sometiimes (a great example, a reporter for the Rocky Mountain News won the pulitzer prize for feature writing but only took second in one of the two state contests, which is like winning a Grammy but not making the finals for American Idol).
I'm human, and if you watched the Oscars last night, I'm not the only one who appreciates trophies.
That's a couple of worthless paragraphs to tell you that I won three first place awards from the Colorado Associated Press Friday night and two firsts, one second and a third from the Colorado Press Association. I was proud. I've won at least one first place a year from both organizations in the last six years, but there still are only like 8-9 writing categories per contest and usually at least eight newspapers enter them. This year was a good one.
More importantly I got to hear Tom Hallman Jr. speak. Hallman Jr. won a pulitzer and was a finalist for two others and is one of the five best newspaper writers in the country. I came away from that inspired for the first time in two years, and I spoke to my editor about writing a weekly column, much like a metro columnist does for the big-city newspapers. He seemed supportive. If so I'll post them here once a week.
That's a big reason why I like awards, too. Others believe it shows you are good, and opportunities arise for them.
And with that, good luck Wil in the blogger contest!
(If you already lost I apologize. I don't pay attention to such things. Especially because I wasn't nominated).

Mookie Minefield

Last night was one of those nights that makes me wonder why I play poker.
And yet it was a lot of fun too.
I got my money in as a 3-1 favorite three times in the Mookie last night, including my last beat, when my A,K fell to A,J at the final table.
But the Mookie was littered with bad beats last night, so I can't really complain too much. I swear I saw three people in a row lose with KK. It was a brutal night. I was only one of the many victims.
Besides, in a tough tournament with bloggers, if there were no bad beats, the thing would last until 3:30 a.m. You gotta knock out tough players somehow, right?
I did feel great about my play. I made both final tables in NE and in Razz (took my 8 high a little too far but I was low in chips).
I think making the final table again, just two spots from the money, when I had my money in as a sparkling water favorite, proves to me that I should be more confident about my MTT play. It's improved quite a bit. I was always a tight, careful player, so mixing that in with a few well-timed steals and bluffs seems to be all I needed. Plus my reads are better. I can't remember the last time I sucked out in an MTT or a SnG, and while some would bitch about that, I look at it as proof that almost all of the time, I'm getting my money in when I'm a favorite. That's about all you can do in poker. The rest is up to the hamster that runs the card program.
Ah, that bastard hamster. In limit last night, right after I was thrown from the Mookie, I took more beats than an old mule. The details? Nah. The best, though, I have to share with you. I lost with TPTK, A,J, to A,10 when he hit runner, runner 10s. Weee.
I did well, however, because I also got a full house with a pair of 6s in the hole, a set of 7s and finally a player decided that capping the pot was a good idea after I completed my straight flush. Thank you, sir, may I have another bet? Sweet.
Limit is a little too much like Bingo Poker, what we Coloradans like to call Black Hawk Casino 2/5 limit poker, but that also is what gets your hands paid off. I must keep reminding myself of that.
Sometimes it's hard though.

I'll continue to pimp the baby pool until April 1, the deadline. Thanks to those of you who have pimped away. I would really appreciate it, and maybe let you suck out against me, if you do the same.


And speaking of MTTs, pimping and the damn hamster:




I'll be here tonight.

Run those stairs a second time

Come out tonight to this:





When in the biggest upset since the 1980 U.S. Hockey Team took down a bunch of much larger and angrier men on ice I took down the last Mookie. I'll be "defending" my title tonight, meaning I'll be handing off the crown like a former Miss America to the next lucky contestant, probably by the first hour.
Complicating things is the fact that I"m Mr. Mom tonight, so I hope the toddler cooperates when Daddy whispers to him that he needs him to sleep so he can fold his way to a sixth place cash.
I think I'll make the Razz event too as I love Razz.


* * *

I had a good time playing some (actually a lot) of hold em with CC of Quest of a Closet Poker Player last night. The closet player himself came out of the closet to crack my KK with A,5 and destroy my K,Q with top pair with his set of 3s.
I tried $2/$4 limit for the first time and thought I did well until the very end, when after three tough hands I finished $35 down in a bit of a daze. That's nothing to what CC suffered yesterday, but I was still bummed, considering several times I was up quite a bit, and I've always prided myself on not donking off a good night.
CC had several good suggestions for my game (including the shocker suggestion of the century, raise more preflop, gosh I thought I was pretty LAG, I guess not).
Thanks, man.

* * *

I have had ONE entry for the baby pool. I have heard some rumblings that more want to enter.
To enter, send me $5 via Paypal (dengl5@earthlink.net) or via my Poker Stars or Full Tilt accounts (I'm pokerpeaker).
Tell me what you think the birth date will be of the twins in the email you send me.
If this is a dumb idea let me know, too. I thought it would be fun. I'm not profiting from this at all. This might just be stupid. Maybe a little pimping would help?
The official due date is June 3 but twins, as you might guess, don't get carried for 40 weeks. So what will it be?
Hmmm....


Edit: I actually don't know if I'll enter. I think I have an unfair advantage to inside information. And I don't want people to think this pool is as rigged as online poker.
I've also had people wonder when they can enter.
Well, OK.
The deadline is APRIL FOOL'S DAY.
April 1.

And some want data. I'll post data when I know it.
Here's what I know now.
Kate had a great pregnancy with Jayden. She was dead on on the due date last time and had a quick and (relatively) easy delivery.
Mostly what I hear is we are lucky to carry twins 35 weeks, although a twins blogger just told me she went 39 weeks with hers. The babies are growing normally right now, meaning it's possible Kate could have them sooner or later, depending on your thought process.
The official due date is June 3.
We're going to consider ourselves "on call" from mid-April on.
And if we do have a scheduled C-section (Kate didn't need one the first time), that date still counts, so good guess.
Three slots per date. You can enter up to five times.
Good luck.

Say Hello World to a new blogger contest

Say hi to Baby A. Or maybe it's Baby B.
Already I can't tell them apart.
One of the advantages (one of the FEW advantages) to having twins is you get ultrasounds every month, and your insurance company has to pay for them, given that they are a requirement and not something you just do to find out if your baby has a stem on the apple or not (in both cases, still not, which is cool because after raising a hyperkenetic electron toddler boy, I'm hoping for something slightly less, well, active).
And that brings me to my point.
I believe my audience is my family, a few friends, some virtual poker buddies and quite possibly some baby lovers now that a twins site that I highly recommend (link to the right) even if you DON'T have twins has linked me. Well, all of you might be interested in this.
I want to start a baby contest.
I thought about some sub-categories for all you degenerates who have to gamble on everything, including the opening coin toss, but let's just make this easy, OK?
The category is When Will The Babies Be Born?
This is a fun one for twins. I"m not going to help you out too much (Daddy gets to pick a date too), but basically it's wide open from 34 weeks on. Some mothers carry all the way to 39 weeks or beyond, some have them at 33 weeks.
The official due date, meaning full gestation, was June 3.
Here's a little handicapping. The babies are growing normally for one baby, let alone two. They are a pound-and-a-half each. The average weight for twins is a little more than 4 pounds. Kate had a perfect pregnancy with Jayden and delievered two days before her due date.
Good luck.
I don't want to make this too complicated, but I'll allow three picks per date. Once that date is full, no more, so it's first-come, first-serve. I'll split it if I do get more than one, BUT the person who picks it first gets a bit more.
I also thought this as a fundraiser for the twins, but I don't want to be crass, so all the money that goes through me will be given to the person closest to the date.
It's $5 to enter. Since this is just outright gambling instead of poker, we can use any money system we want instead of Neteller and our government won't care. You can get it to me in three ways:
1) In person, where I"ll keep it in a white envelope in a secret location.
2) By PayPal. My email is dengl5@earthlink.net.
3) My Poker Stars or Full Tilt accounts. I"m pokerpeaker on both of those. If you do that, however, let me know through e-mail so I can keep track of it.
This is most definitely a one-time offer. Let's just say the doctor will, er, TAKE CARE of me as soon as I know those babies are healthy. Apparently I"m dangerous.
You can enter up to five times.
If you have any questions, reach me at the e-mail above or simply comment on the site. And save the "how could you gamble on your own children" lines, please. This doesn't benefit me in any way, and I think there was a Brady Bunch episode once about a baby pool. We're just having fun here.

* * *

We've had famine (well, I was puking and hungry and couldn't keep anything down except Jello), we've now had floods (a flood of snow, does that count) and the only thing left is fire or a horde of locusts to keep me from skiing. I was going to go this weekend for the first time this year but all highways are closed because of...snow.
The irony kills me.
Now THAT is a bad beat worth writing about.
I don't know if I"ll get to go skiing at all this winter. I'm just cursed is all. The fire will probably be in March, when global warming kicks in and melts all of it.

Good luck in the pool. Let's have some entries!

I hate this holiday - maybe

Every year I'm reminded why I hate Valentine's Day.
It's the worst of a long series of corporate-engineered holidays designed to "encourage" (i.e. do it or the expiration date will become a sad reality on that box of condoms you have for "when the moment is right") you to spend money.
Every year women (and sometimes guys) look on in envy at work here as an endless supply of barbershop quartets, roses, high school choirs, violinists and balloon pushers express the love of whomever paid their bill, all within the earshot of co-workers.
Every year restaurants are overwhelmed with those wanting to share their love over a beef fritter and garlic mashed potatoes, with two-hour waits already in place by 4 p.m.
And this year my present of Recess Peanut Butter cups (mmmm, at least I'm getting something out of this) was consumed by my two labs, who will not, as a result, win this year's Man's Best Friend award presented by Snoopy. Kate broke the news yesterday.
I was scribbling into my card to Kate yesterday about how much I truly do love her and how I know how good she'll be with the twins when I flopped a set of jacks on a two-suited board. I was already up $30 and was having visions of virtual dollars that I may never be able to withdraw dance in my head. I bet and got two callers. I bet the pot on the turn, and when the third suit came on the river, I called a bet that was one-fifth of the pot.
Three hearts.
Guy got his flush.
So I was back to even for the night.
See? I hate Valentine's Day.
And yet.
Yet it occured to me that I hadn't really said how much confidence I have in her until the card came her way. I hadn't thanked her lately for being such a good mom to Jayden. And I found my own card from her expressing her own confidence in me about our impending chaos times two.
Jayden lately is starting to, shall we say, assert himself, preferring to get a headstart on the terrible twos (which will come when the twins are born) in order to beat the rush. We bought a new computer last week, partly for him, and now if we don't allow him to spend six hours a day on it (which we don't, an hour is all he gets) playing the Little Einsteins rocket game or a Reading Rabbit Toddler game, he flops on the floor and screams like we've extracted one of his molars.
Which is not exactly what you need to see when you know that two more are on the way, and you know that not only are THEY going to be tough, but you worry about your other one, too, and how he'll respond to suddenly having his time with Mom and Dad divided into thin slices like the pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving when your 20 cousins come to visit.
So Kate's words made me feel good.
OK. So maybe it takes a corporate holiday to tell each other how much you appreciate them and how much you love them. Sad but true. I'm certainly no hopeless romantic (helpless is more like it), so if it takes a holiday to get me to say those things, and I do need to say those things, then I might just start supporting it.
Besides, I'm really looking forward to those Recess Peanut Butter cups next year.

Re-sucking out on the worst beat of all

Despite my cynical journalist's mind, my tendency to view anyone with suspicion and my prickly and somewhat selfish nature that makes getting close to me about as easy as walking barefoot through a field of tire-popping goat heads, I truly believe people are good.
I believe most people do not have it in them to steal, to cheat, to lie. I believe it goes against their nature.
And that belief was severely tested starting in April.

I saved and scrapped and, er, won some good money from poker players (that last line won't exactly inspire thoughts of the American Dream, I realize, but screw it), and finally I had enough money for a new computer. My old iMac, God Bless It, was a little outdated. Actually, it was about as outdated as wood paneling.
Being the smart consumer I am, I went to Ebay to find a good deal. I had bought many things from E-bay in the past and, as a result, saved hundreds of dollars. CDs, video games and dog toys were just some of my purchases. I sold many things as well. Never once did I have a problem. One of my friends bought a car from E-bay. It was a gem.

So when I saw the new Mac computer for $1,270, well, given my past with E-bay, as well as my believe, again, that most people are good, I bought it. When the guy said he couldn't accept Paypal, I went to the bank and cut him a cashier's check. When he asked, a little impaitently by e-mail, where the money was, I sent it right away. He returned my calls twice, sounded like a good guy and told me the tracking number for the computer was on the way.
A week later, I had that sinking feeling in my gut that I was beat. My cynical nature? My poker player's instinct? Finally recognizing the neon glare of the warning signs? It's possible. I called my bank. No, there was no way to cancel the cashier's check.
OK, I'll give him a chance.
I called him every couple of days. No response. No answer. I continued to call. Nope. I e-mailed him many times.
I started to get angry. I threatened him, eventually, telling him I would go to the police in the hopes that I wouldn't ever have to do so. I swore once. Not proud of that, but eventually, I started to think rather long and hard about that $1,270, a lot, lot, lot of money for me, and I started to believe it was gone.
No, no, no, I thought.

So let me say one more thing about me. I don't like to feel like I'm being taken. This stems from my years of junior high school and elementary school, when I was one of the whipping boys, the guy you picked on a recess. I've lived the rest of my life determined to never, ever let anyone push me around. To many degrees, this has not served me well, taking far too many statements the wrong way at work, not allowing criticism, even valid criticism, to pass without a proper defense, or even dismissing relationships if I'm feeling ignored, even if it was not intentional.
But in other ways, it has served me well. I'm a good reporter because I not only don't care what people think (for the most part, I'm not bulletproof, especially when it comes to people I respect, like many of you reading this), when someone tells me to bugger off, it makes me three times more likely to get them.
I really, really don't mean to sound like a badass here. This will sound tough, arrogant and just plain stupid, but here goes.
I'm not someone you want to fuck with.

So I dug through the transaction files on E-bay, and of the 40 different pages, I found his address and phone number. I printed off every file I could. I contacted others on E-bay who dealt with him and got written responses of how he screwed them from three. I copied off every document that had anything to do with the police, contacted a friend there and took a deep breath and went to the police.
The cop there was sympathetic but said he had no jurisdiction over him: The guy was from Philly, and the Philly department would have to handle it.
It was July, three months after the guy took my money.
After another month, after no response, I got the detective to give me the fraud inspector's name, and many phone calls later, after another month, he said he would look into it. It took him another month, but one day at the Tribune, my phone rang.
"Yes, this is (the guy's mother), and we were contacted by the police. I'd like to send you your money back."
I was floored. Imagine suddenly finding $1,270 in your couch after you thought it was gone for good. Soon after the detective called me and asked if the mother called me about the money. I said yes and thanked him profusely.
I'd like to say it ended there, but it took another three months to get all my money back. She had to send it in increments, and it took many phone calls to get her to send them. In fact, at the end, I had to treat her the same way I treated her son, and every time I felt sorry for her, I reminded myself what her son did to me and quickly got over it.

A week ago, the final postal money order arrived in the mail. After eight months, I had my money back.
And I have a couple detectives who could have said "buyer beware" to thank for that.

My belief that people are good was severely tested for several months.
Now I believe it more than ever.

Clank

“There were a lot of similarities to how we played Saturday, except this time we made shot. The difference between playing average and playing great is whether the ball goes in the hole or not."

— KU Coach Bill Self after last night's victory against K-State.

Last night was, I hope, the climax in a week of brutal beats, tough breaks and a downright disgusting display of suckouts. I wasn't going to write about it. There's enough of that shit around already, and I really don't want to be Waffles.
I was really having a hard time letting last night go, however, even after I stopped playing, fired up Zelda and then watched "X-Men III" (my review: Eh). I took it to bed with me and woke up with it. Until I read that quote above.

My Jayhawks have had an up and down year, and Saturday they faced the same kind of gut-wretching loss that I've taken all this week, ahead by Texas A&M, the conference leader, to start counting their chips before they were shipped, and instead the lead was chipped, chipped and chipped, until they blew the final 6 points in a minute-and-a-half and lost at magical Allen Fieldhouse.
They played pretty well but fell to the No. 8 team in the country and lost.
The shots, as Self said, didn't go in.

Wednesday my Hawks played the Wildcats, one of our biggest rivals but a team that has acted more like our punching bag. In fact, K-State has not beaten KU, in its own arena, in almost a quarter-century. If that isn't the most embarassing streak in sports, I don't know what is.
Still, K-State was hot, beating a good Texas team at home and winners of seven straight; KU was down and facing a barrage of criticism, and many thought my Hawks might lose.
They pounced early and often and looked like world-beaters and crushed K-State.
The shots, as Self said, went in.

Lately I've thought about how poker, especially tournament poker, is much the same way. You can play great and lose because of bad luck. Horrible luck. Last night was the worst: I was a 9-1 favorite and lost on the river against the other chip leader. I win that pot and I'm a huge chip leader with 20 to go and the favorite to take down a 45-person SnG. Plus how much fun would it have been to be that much of a chip leader? Loads of fun. Instead, after a week of brutal suckout after suckout, my 90 percent favorite does not hold, and IGHN, just one of the guys finishing out of the money.
A week ago I won the Mookie. I did not suckout once (unless you count Q,J versus 6,6 as a suckout, which I don't), but I did win many coinflips. I lose one of those races, and there were three before the final table, and I"m just one of the guys finishing out of the money. Yet I won, and I felt awesome afterward. Last night I felt terrible, and I played exactly the same way. In fact, you could argue I played better last night, and all week, since I got my money in with much better odds.
My shots went in last week. Last night they clanked.
If it's that simple, why am I still so frustrated right now?

Have you seen this person?

Last seen with two kidnapped victims in a subway. Known sidewalk snatcher who writes about poker and relationships, poker and religion and some actress on "Little House on the Prairie." Recently moved to a new home. Anyone who has any information regarding this person, show up Thursday night at CC's Bash, where we'll play poker with him before arresting him. Oh, and lots of other great players too. Change 100 may even be there, so we'll roll out the red carpet. No autographs, please.


I'm in a bit of slump lately. It's funny how after a big win (The Mookie) variance seems to hit me right away. And no, I'm not suffering from Winner's Tilt. I'm suffering from shit like a total donkey getting a higher two pair than me, people hitting their draws, blah blah blah and waa waa waa. I'm 1/9 in SnGs lately, right when I decided to move up to the $11 SnGs again. Maybe it's just harder there, I don't know, or maybe it's what Change 100 was saying about the soft SnGs being a thing of the past. I"m not seeing great play. I've also bubbled three times, and only a couple hours of Zelda: Twilight Princess can cure that. I hope it turns around soon. CC's Bash would be a good place for that to happen.

I'm guiding another snowshoe this Saturday after spending all day Friday with the J-man. Then that Saturday night I have a big, live, MTT to attend for a birthday party. I'm really excited about it, as the field is mixed with inexperienced players and good players, the best kind, I've always thought. Too many good players and it turns into a grindfest, but too many bad ones and luck is too much of a factor.

I'm not as worried as some of you seem to be about Neteller. I've got $700 in there, about a fifth of my bankroll, but I find it hard to believe our government would simply seize our funds and not give them back. It may take a while, but I think we'll get it back.
Check out how Iron Girl went after Neteller, and the answers she got may help ease your concerns.
For now.

Finally, KU's got a big game against their newly pumped-up rival K-State and its thug coach, Bob "I just had a few dozen beers officer" Huggins. If we don't win that one, I'll be on Super Jayhawk Tilt, and that's far worse than Bubble SnG Tilt.

I wish I could make the Hammer Day tourney but I'll be running tonight and may not make it home until 7:30 or so. Although it looks like it's snowing right now, so I may instead get strapped in a white jacket and scream about winter please coming to an end, good God. It looks like nuclear winter out there right now with the snow and cold and low, depressing fog, and every guy I know is growing a beard and starting to wear multiple layers of clothing and generally look starved. It was supposed to be sunny today.
If the bomb does fall, we won't even realize it.
Good luck to you all if I"m not there. See you Thursday.

Bad Beat Blowout (aka I came to gamble, not to play poker!)

— Regular at the Ameristar Casino in Black Hawk: "You know why it's so packed, don't you?"
Me: "The online thing? People are bored on Saturday? The poker boom?"
Regular: "No. The Bad Beat jackpot."

It was hard not to blame the gamboolers who packed all dozen tables at the Ameristar, making us wait for a table for two hours when I came up with one of my best friends for an all-day, orgasmic, play-poker-till-you-drop-and-you'd-better-do-it-now-before-the-twins-arrive marathon.
The bad beat was more than $180,000. Just sitting at the table if it hits will net you $7,000. That's a lot of diapers.
Daddy needs some low quads!!!

I was stunned at the talk of the poker tables. Bad beat this, bad beat that, wouldn't it be great if we could hit it, blah blah blah. Yeah. It hadn't hit in months. The odds of quads over quads (or a straight flush) are about as high as Jack Bauer spending a day lounging on the couch and picking at his toenails. I was not there to hit a bad beat. I was there to play poker.
Unlike many of my tablemates.
"I'm here to gamble," one said, "not play poker."

Limit poker in a casino is always a minefield, and Colorado only offers $2/5 limit. Yes, you'll find your good players, but you'll also find many willing to chase any inside straight draw with 7,4, any pair in the hopes of catching trips, any flush draw even with a single suit out there and any pocket pair in the hopes of catching a set.
Raising works only to sweeten the pot (and as the pot builds, ironically gambooling with such fodder gets more and more correct - you'd pay $5 to win $100, right?).
I knew exactly what to expect Saturday, and I wasn't disappointed, when a Vietnamese girl all the dealers called "Angel" took her J,7 to battle against my KK, despite my re-raise and raising every turn, until the river, when she caught her 7 to go with her top pair. I was a little pissed, but I also knew that eventually, those are the players who pay you off as well. It works both ways. And I also told myself that the odds of her finishing ahead of me for the night were as high as, well, hitting the bad beat jackpot. I wasn't wrong: She burned through $300 and left the table depressed. After she sucked out with another two pair with crap against my A,Q, I silently cheered when she busted.

Bad beat story alert (but it's not mine, so I get to save $1): Twice I saw a flopped full house with a pair in the hand get beat by runner, runner card, giving the other person quads. One was A on the turn and A on the river, and then my friend lost his full house after re-raising the guy to the bone and he continued to call with his pair of 7s, and then his trips on the turn, and then his quads on the river). Ouch. That's the worst I've ever seen.

So you don't go expecting to make a ton of money or have all your hands hold up. You go to have fun. Fun, to me, still means playing solid poker, only good starting hands, betting and raising when you've got it and checking when you don't (bluffing is pointless) and being patient, but many others would disagree. That's cool. Thank you for calling down my made nut flush with your small pair.

I got my fair share of good hands. I swam through the cold streaks and rode the hot ones. I preserved my chips until I got a hand and either won or got sucked out on. It was a typical Black Hawk night.
Then I hear some screaming three tables down. Either a guy snapped when his K,K lost to 8,3 os, or it happened.
It happened.
Bad beat jackpot.
6s beaten by QQ. Both got their set on the flop, then each nailed their card on the turn and river.
"God dammit," a guy hissed to my right.
Hey, I was happy. How cool we got to see that.
And then I look down.
AA.
Oh, shit. We get to keep playing, don't we?

Play continued, sort of, as the table went bonkers. Players gazed over there with envy in their eyes. My big hand was easing my envy. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you're holding AA.
"Raise," I announced after six callers threw in their $2 blind.
A gorgeous A comes on the flop, but this is limit, so I don't even think about slowplaying it, not with two clubs out there. I bet.
Three fold, but two call. One folds on the turn and one folds on the flop when the other club doesn't hit.
OK, sweet. AA doesn't always hold up.
Happy, I excused myself and congratulated the giddy table sipping on bubbly.

I guess they weren't the only ones who got lucky that night.

I wound up finishing $35 up, making an incredible $4 an hour, meaning I could have made more flipping burgers at McHappy Atomic Burger.
But I would not have had nearly as much fun.