Outdrawn

You know, I'm starting to hate tournaments a little bit. Really, when I run bad I run worse than anyone I know.

I get my money in good over and over. And I get outdrawn BY FREAKING TWO-OUTERS over and over. Honestly, these days I'm surprised if my hand holds up when I'm a 80% favorite.

Knocked out of the WSOP series tonight by the same slowrolling asshat again ~ again! ~ when he spiked a set on the flop with JJ vs. my KK. The guy is fuckin' kryptonite to me. He is also the luckiest SOB I've ever seen. For what it's worth, I played a good game tonight, largely mistake and regret free. I did my best. I just got hosed.

On the plus side, Mr. WPY won the game, and we're cross-staking the whole series so at least I get my buy-in back. (I only hope he doesn't come to regret having made the deal. And god help these guys when I finally start to have my hands hold and my draws hit.)

[Update: Three days later and it happens again. Same guy. My AA vs. his Q10 off. Oh how I hate him.]

The Package

So I got him a present. Generosity begets generosity. I ordered Gus Hansen's Every Hand Revealed from Amazon.

I tracked the package. Fedex showed it as delivered on Monday. But he didn't say anything about it at Tuesday's game. Hmm. Odd. (We did play two tough heads-up minitourneys together. It was lots of fun, but I could barely muster my "C" game because I'm so gaga. Pathetic.)

On Wednesday, I sent a chatty email suggesting he keep an eye out for an incoming package. He said something about not having been home yet, but he'd look for it. A few hours later I got a text message announcing that he'd gotten it and telling me I rocked.

My paranoid brain immediately deduced that he hadn't been home either Monday or Tuesday night.

Or, you know, Fedex lied.
One or the other.

In the meantime I get another email enthusing about the book. And he's decided to play the WSOP series, so that's yet another night in his company every month. He's occasionally using a rather cute nickname for me that he invented).

I proposed we eat and talk before tonight's inaugural WSOP series game. He demurred, "I'd love to but...[insert list of things to do]." Sigh.

There will be tears.

Grinding

Having suffered relentlessly lately from bad outcomes in low-stakes online tournaments, I've turned my attention on PokerStars to the microstakes cash games. I'm currently playing .10/.25 full ring games, multitabling, and trying to play a super-disciplined but ever-so slightly creative game.

In the last day or two I've been on a pretty sick heater, and the bankroll which started at $50 is now over $550.

I was playing the .5/.10 game, but I moved up largely in order to garner more frequent player points (FPPs), so that I could clear another bonus. If I can manage to earn roughly 200 FPPs by July 27, which should be pretty easy, I'll get a $100 boost to my 'roll. I'm not seeing a detectably greater range of skill at this level, so I'll probably continue to grind away at .10/.25 for awhile. It's pretty clear I can beat these players, so I might as well just keep at it.

I am beginning to understand why many players prefer cash games to tournaments. You can have an edge in tournament play, but it's harder to make it pay than it is at a cash table. Tournaments are all-or-nothing propositions, and one turn of bad luck can send you to the rail, even if you've been playing beautifully (for days, in some cases). In a cash game, if you're playing at a level appropriate for your bankroll, and bad luck causes a bad player to get the best of you a few times, you can buy back into the game, stay at the table, and bide your time for the opportunity to win it all back and more.

My studying is paying off; I can't wait to take my game to a casino table and see how I fare live.

Here We Go Again

Mr. WPY was back from Vegas and playing last night. He was in fine form, and is on his way to tying my league record for consecutive cashes.

He was also looking absolutely, incredibly wonderful. Tanned and rested and *gulp* fit. Oh. My. God. If I'm lucky, between sightings I manage to forget how entirely splendid he is. But that has the effect of making the refreshing of my memory that much more devastating. The man is beautiful.

When he arrived, he beckoned me out to his truck and bestowed upon me not only the signed Doyle poster but also one from Annie Duke inscribed "Chicks Rule!" I took this as excuse to throw my arms around him and give him a big hug. I'd tried to hug the guy before and always had the feeling he was a little uncomfortable with it. Not this time. A little surprised, maybe, but definitely not uncomfortable.

I thanked him for thinking of me. He said, "Of course!"

Lots of table chat. He was relaxed and forthcoming. I busted out fourth, and stayed to deal. He went out third, and stayed to help. Or something. We left the host's home together, and then parted ways at our vehicles.

When I got home, after a detour at another game, there was an email from him waiting. All poker-related. But still, he's done this lately. Like before he went to Vegas, he phoned me after the game (we hadn't had a chance to say goodnight), and brought up something about the game. It seemed odd at the time, and my thought was that he just wanted to touch base with me. I shrugged it off, however, since when I called him back he had company at home, and my thoughts went immediately to the cupcake of despair.

Now I'm back in the soup again. I am tickled beyond all measure that he went out of his way to fetch those tokens back from Vegas for me (and, I may add, for no one else). He is utterly charming to me and, let's be frank, I adore him. I predict another round of out-of-control pining.

Gah.

Why I Love Him

This evening I've been getting a series of MMS messages from Mr. WPY, who is in Vegas after spending a family vacation floating around Lake Mead on a houseboat.

These messages are coming only to me. (Yeah, first thing I checked.) They are pictures of famous poker players he's taken, with little messages attached.

The most recent one is a picture of a Doyle Brunson poster, inscribed by Texas Dolly himself to me. Mr. WPY's attached message was, "Somebody says hi. When he found out I knew you, he insisted."

Wish I were there doesn't even begin to cover it.

Mr. WPY for the win! Accept no substitutes.

Ethics

Poker is a predatory undertaking. The object of the game, specifically, is to take as much of other people's money as you possibly can while abiding by strictly defined rules (and also, one hopes both for the good of the game and general civility, within the bounds of poker etiquette as well).

It is to be assumed that people sit down at the table voluntarily, and are equally free to stand up and walk away when they please. No one is forced to play or forced to quit (unless they run out of money, and then it's not that they are "forced" to quit but that they no longer have the requisite wherewithal to play).

But the reality of it is, in fact, otherwise. You cannot play poker as intensively as I do and not know this.

I see the compulsive gamblers. I see the people so desperate for social interaction that they essentially 'pay' for company by losing at the table. I see the people who ~ despite all ongoing and mounting evidence to the contrary ~ believe they can score big in the game and thereby dig themselves out of a financial hole. I see the people whose emotional state is so precarious that I'm convinced that one more bad choice or bad bit of luck will tip them right over the edge into some sort of abyss, with potentially disastrous consequences for them and/or the people around them.

I don't want to play with those people, but they are everywhere. And they are not always easy to spot right away. Sometimes you only realize how bad things are three or four hours into the game. And maybe only after you or others have relieved them of a buy-in or two. I hope that the empathy which helps make me a good poker player never deserts me. I do not wish to be blind or indifferent to the suffering of others.

Tonight, for the second time in a week, I found myself feeling uncomfortable about some of the other players in the game. I no longer wanted to participate in what looked like a trainwreck in progress. In both cases, I could have stayed and undoubtedly continued to prosper in monetary terms. Instead, I bowed out, while suggesting to the individuals still there that it might be wise to stop. In one case, last Saturday, they agreed and the game came to an end. This evening, however, I left the game still roaring, and the various conflagrations were actively being stoked. It didn't look good to me, and I departed ~ once again taking a friend aside (Mr. Actuary) and telling him I had a bad feeling about the situation. But he had dollar signs in his eyes and didn't want to quit; his greed was impairing his judgment, in my view, as badly as compulsion was twisting the behavior of some of the other players.

I do not want to be on either side of that equation. This is why I like tournaments: defined buy-ins essentially mean a built-in stop-loss. Nobody with the merest modicum of common sense is going broke playing in a tournament.

Cash games are another matter, and this is why, when all is said and done, I prefer to play cash in a casino. Casino play has overhead associated with it. You have to deliberately GO to a casino. You have to be prepared to pay a rake. You probably are paying for food and drink and lodging. You are actively going there to engage in gambling activity, and you know it's going to cost you something. The vast majority of people playing poker in a casino know what they are there for, and they can afford it. Yes, you'll run into the degenerates, the people who are desperate or mentally ill, but they are easier to spot and they are very distinctly a small minority. If I find myself at a table with such a person, I will generally seek to move.

I am well aware that avoiding the problem doesn't solve it; just because I'm not contributing to it directly doesn't mean it isn't still there. Those folks are, to some extent, seeking out their own destruction. I can't fix them, but I can at least do my best not to exacerbate their troubles.

I am okay (more than okay) with not profiting as much as I might otherwise, as a result.

Is any of this a reason to condemn poker playing, or gambling in general, to the point where it should be anathema to an ethical person?

I don't think so, in much the same way that I don't think that most things consenting adults do which are fine and fun in moderation but dangerous in excess should be banned, prohibited, or shunned. Properly handled regulation, licensing, and even taxation could be good ways to fund necessary health or rehabilitation measures for those who, for one reason or another, devolve into a bad state as a result of their gambling. I believe it is possible to play responsibly and, by example and by advocacy, to help others to play responsibly. Driving it underground through legal sanctions only, ultimately, makes things worse for people who are already troubled. The libertarian in me also believes that people shouldn't be entirely sheltered from the consequences of their own choices and actions.

Is it the best and most ethical way to spend one's life?

Definitely not. Aside from the minor benefit of facilitating the redistribution of wealth from less to more intelligent (for several different definitions of that term) people, poker-playing has no redeeming social value whatsoever. Its entertainment value is, at best, morally neutral. For those who play a lot ~ like me ~ I believe it's imperative to participate in some kind of really morally constructive activity to bring balance to our lives. I am on the lookout to add something like that to my life in a deliberate, well-organized way.

Still Rolling

Making the mobneys [again: not a typo, slang] in live games, both tourney and cash. The poker drawer is plump.

These days, online has been an exercise in frustration. I'm a winner at FullTilt's $5 6-max SNGs, but that's it, basically. PokerStars SNGs are just a bad-beat fest for me. After the umpteenth 3-outer-inside-straight-draw-gets-there-on-the-river, it's pretty hard not to go on full-scale, atomic monkey-tilt.

So I'm trying a little experiment: multi-tabling microstakes full-ring cash at PS. So far, it's proven modestly profitable. Multi-tabling takes the sting out of any one bad beat, and the players are so generally awful that it's hard not to come out ahead overall. I'm starting to recognize the regulars, and just stay out of the way of the competent ones. If I had the use of something like PokerTracker I'm sure I could do even better.

I don't know whether I'm deluding myself or not, but I really feel as if I'm getting my feet under me in cash games now. I'm not playing scared at all anymore (which is absolutely, positively key), and the unpressurized environment is affirmatively enjoyable compared to the relentless squeeze of tournament play. The fluidity of playing at one table, for many hours, as some people come and go and others switch gears is just fascinating. I can see that there's pretty much an endless road of improvement to travel.

Game selection remains essential. I leave some games because, despite the fact that they play like complete morons, obnoxious drunks make the experience so unpleasant for me that I don't play my best game either. Nor do I play in games where people's disregard for the stakes is so obvious that my entire bankroll could disappear into the variance aether while they're digging into their pocket for their nth rebuy of the evening.

And I'm striving to only occasionally play at tables where I'm noticeably outmatched. My ego is healthy, but I know when it comes to this game I'm not All That And A Bag of Chips; there are a lot of players who are better, much better, than I am. Likewise, it's important for me to learn and grow as a player, and playing with my superiors is definitely one way to do that, but tuition at the School of Hard Knocks can be pretty pricey. I think maybe a ratio of 1:12 is about right (and with stop-losses firmly in place).

I'm looking forward to my next foray to a casino, where I can test my supposed improved cash skills against a broader field.

No AC for me

Alas, my ride to AC bagged out, and circumstances generally conspired to make it impracticable for me to get to the Ladies Tournament. Oh well.

Actually, there's a bit of a story there. What really happened is that some of my A League people who had originally indicated they might come along decided that it was too rushed, and the Monday morning work day would be too daunting after a late night of driving. So that left me, S., and her husband M.

They were actually talking about leaving their two relatively young children unsupervised for an entire day in order to make this trip. I have to say, the idea of that made me pretty uncomfortable. Then, S. took me aside and said she was worried about M. on his own at the blackjack tables. It would have been okay, she said, if some of his buddies were along to moderate his behavior, but she was afraid he'd get in over his head if he was on his own for hours while we were playing in the tournament.

So I quickly assured her that I was okay with not making the trip at all. Which, although a disappointment, was also (for the above reasons) something of a relief. Honestly, I didn't want to be the occasion for utter degeneracy.

Of course the end of result of this decision was that a bunch of us ended up playing all night at S. & M.'s place. My hot streak died down a bit, as my best result of four games was a second.

It is much easier to spot and disapprove of degeneracy in others than in oneself. I am, I hope, at least aware of THAT fact. One challenge created by immersion in the subterranean but intense poker-playing subculture is that one is generally surrounded by people who are at least as addicted as oneself. Self-monitoring is hard. My non-poker-playing friends become even more precious to me by virtue of being able to hold up a less distorted mirror on my behavior. I am striving to give serious attention when they voice concerns about the choices I make.

Running Ridiculously Goot

Oh how I love it. Took down another tournament tonight. I'm up A LOT in the last four days.

It looks like a group of us are making a dash for AC on Sunday early A.M. so that S. (she of the "are you guys dating?" question) and I can play in the Ladies Tourney of the Borgata Open. I can only hope that my rush continues.

Mr. WPY played as well this evening, and finished third. I continue to completely adore him, and he continues to be charming and friendly as heck. Still not a hint of movement from him, though. Rats!

But you know what, I am not defeated. I'm not. That man likes me, I'm in no doubt whatsoever about it. In fact, I suspect that he likes me more than he knows, or than he is willing to admit to himself. And I really, really like him. We have a thing going on, of some sort. Given my recent adventures, I'm rapidly becoming immune to fear of rejection, and I'm getting progressively more and more shameless. One of these days when the circumstances are right, my friends, I'm going to offer to rock his world; should he choose not to take me up on it... well, I will consider it his loss and move on. (I might shed a tear or two, but I'll recover.)

Hear me roar, people!

Running Goot

[The title: not a typo, poker slang.]

Things have been going pretty well for me in live play lately. I won my B League season points race, and got the prize money tonight. I've been playing well and making small but consistent profits in cash games. I've been cashing at my A League tourneys.

Online, not so much. I'm getting sucked out on so much, it's a wonder I don't have hickeys.

With the way things have been going for me in live games, I'm thinking maybe I'll make a dash for AC and the Women's Tourney at the Borgata on Sunday. It may be time to break out Ye Olde Pinke Baseballe Cappe again.

If I can get a cheapish room, I may go up on Saturday.

When the love affair becomes a committed relationship...

Words of wisdom on the game from Bad Blood.

Foxwoods Run

This afternoon I made an impromptu sprint to Foxwoods ~ about 250 miles and 4 hours or so round trip from Boston. All that for just 2.5 hours of 1/2 NL! A ridiculous ratio.

It was my first experience of time drop rather than a rake. I'm not sure how I feel about it overall, but I sure didn't appreciate the guys who sat there endlessly mulling over their choices. Raise or fold, baby!

For such a short session I both did well & got lucky. I flopped a set of 7s and managed to double up. I took down a modest pot preflop with pocket queens, and my JJ held up against a dopey Q9os all-in. I played pretty snug, only showed down my big hands, and was thereby able on my last hand (in late position) to bluff five limpers off their hands with a ten dollar raise.

Overall, I spent about $32 on time and tips. And about $25 extra bucks on gas. I left the table with $245 more than I sat down with. I am pleased.

Foxwoods' poker room is huge. I wasn't especially looking, but I think it's possible that I was the only woman playing within a three-table radius. Just amazing.

The good news for me from this little expedition is that I am getting much more comfortable at a cash table. I'm raising more, playing some speculative hands in position pre-flop, and not laying down to every whiff of aggression. I may one day be a decent cash player.

Donkeys 'R' Us

PokerStars $3 6-max turbo SNGs. Enough said.

I have never experienced so many bad beats in a row in my life. People making terrible calls and getting sickeningly lucky.

They are morons, and I'm unbelievably aggravated.

It is quite possible that a largely poker-free week will be good for me.

I am Cougar, Hear Me Roar

Life is an interesting proposition. I don't think any bookmaker would have given you accurate odds on the outcome of my Memorial Day weekend. That said, I do like a surprise.

Another marathon night at Casa Benito. I was a shameless flirt (why? because I could be). The eventual upshot of which was two of us making out like teenagers on a rocky promontory overlooking the Potomac at 10 AM in glorious sunlight. "Fun" doesn't even BEGIN to cover it.

Vegas Boy. Go figure.

I think you would all very much enjoy the cat-ate-canary grin on my face. And considering the week I have coming up, I'll take all the goodies I can get right now, thank you very much.

And again

I am insane.

The sooner I am gainfully employed the better, because otherwise I will start doing this for a living. And nobody wants that (except maybe me).

I have once again qualified for a Main Event satellite, this coming Saturday. What in God's name will I do if I actually win a seat?

Oops, I did it again

Up all night, playing poker with da DC boyz ~ after cashing in my usual Tuesday night A-league game. I haven't laughed so hard and so long in ages. Truly an intensely entertaining evening. And it does my self-esteem no harm whatsoever to play great poker and actually be admired for it. (Second marriage proposal over a poker table. Heh.)

I have now befriended a young man ~ hereafter to be known as Vegas Boy ~ who is seriously planning to move to Las Vegas and play poker for a living. It should be interesting following his progress (and hey, I may have a free place to crash next time I visit).

How I'm ever going to catch up on my sleep is a whole 'nother problem. Oh well!

My Life in Poker

Thursday I take second in my B League, scoring some decent dinero. I remain points leader for the quarter (by one).

Friday, I play in a cash game. All night. Again. Only overlap in the cast of characters is TH. I had much fun and I made a bunch o' money. (I add yet another inappropriately young man to my roster ~ I shall dub him Mr. XM. Heh. Score one for the first marriage proposal I've ever received over a poker table. I expect to be invited back often; the boys simply can't believe they got beaten up so badly by a girl. Good news for moi.)

Saturday, I play two tourneys with my A league, and place 3rd in the first game. Break even for the night (minus the cost of gas to Manassas).

And finally, finally I claw may way back to over $400 on Pokerstars, after suffering just an endless series of setbacks at the $5 +.50 tables.

The only bad news, really: I'm pining for Mr. WPY and couldn't keep myself from texting him yesterday. He answered virtually instantly, but there's no way he's pining for me the way I'm pining for him.

Unequal pinage: not a good thing.

Entitlement

Words to live by.

You are not entitled to play bad just because they are playing bad. You are not entitled to tilt on the grounds that anyone would tilt after the terrible luck you've had. You are not entitled to play a marginal hand as a reward for folding correctly before the flop many times in a row. You are not entitled to call all the way when you are beat, just because you have a big pair in the hole. And no matter how good you play, or how bad they play, you are not entitled to win. If you have time and money, you are entitled to a seat at the table. That is all.

~ Elements of Poker, by Tommy Angelo, p. 75

And, in conclusion:

Men are insane.

Mr. Actuary called me twice today (at around 5 pm and then at about 11 pm) to try to get me to come out to play. Fortunately, I'd decided to cross the river to Virginia, where I could play cards for free AND eat fabulous chiles poblanos (molé sauce, FTW!).

Okay, maybe he's not insane, he just thinks of me as "poker buddy par excellence." Or something.

Nah. I detect the agenbite of inwit.

Too bad for you, Mr. Actuary! You have unimpressed me.

Degenerate Behavior

No trip to AC. The logistics proved too challenging for this week. (Which is fine.) It remains to see whether it will be rescheduled.

In the meantime, I actually stayed up all night playing a cash game with Mr. Actuary and some others, which was insanely fun. Clearly, once I re-enter the normal working world, this sort of behavior will not be an option. I am getting my ya-yas out, and I intend to enjoy it while I can.

Last night's A league game found me seated, once again, next to Mr. WPY at the final table. I am now quite clear that there is an approach-retreat pattern in effect. The cooler I am, the more he engages. (Boys are silly.) He has, however, agreed to play in Thursday's extracurricular tournament, and we'll probably eat dinner together beforehand.

I am resolved in both cases to apply the key lesson I have learned from poker: play your best game, have fun, and don't be results-oriented. I look forward to achieving the attitude of insouciant shamelessness that is the reward for living long enough.

Recent results

On Thursday, I won my B league tourney.

On Friday, I was third in the first game of the evening in my A league.

And I took down my second WSOP-series game tonight. But because of the stupid misconceived points structure, I missed qualifying for a share of the substantial prize pool by 2 points. It was a moral victory but, aside from the first place money for tonight's game, a financial failure. I'm rather pissed about it, and I'm disappointed that the guy who squeaked into 4th didn't even make a token gesture of sharing the prize money. If I were in his shoes, I certainly would have.

Then I went and made even more money in the cash game at the home of my prospective new team leader/boss.

This is all some consolation for the apparent doomswitch that I'm laboring to overcome online at Pokerstars.

Y'all know I can play me some poker.

The Dark Horse

Well now.

I do believe that of the contenders mentioned in a previous post, the one that has gotten the least press is the likely finisher. (Horse race metaphor brought to you courtesy of the Kentucky Derby.)

Quel surprise!

I just rummaged through previous posts to see if I'd mentioned the guy I've dubbed "Mr. Actuary" (a complete misnomer, but it'll do for now) before. Apparently not.

Which is odd. In fact, I'm quite baffled. It seems impossible that I haven't mentioned him even in passing one time.

I've known him as long as Mr. WPY; in fact, we met at the same venue. I've played numerous cash games at his apartment, and at other people's places with him. We once stayed up all night playing a heads-up game of his devising, and had a total blast. In fact, I had to run out onto Connecticut Avenue at 7 am that morning and literally get down on my knees on the macadam to beg the man with the tow truck not to take my ticketed car away. We finished the all-nighter off with a fabulous breakfast at a swanky hotel in town.

And for the record, he too is ridiculously young. Not quite as young as Mr. WPY, but noticeably less conventional and "grown-up" in demeanor. He's goofy, despite being a self-employed CPA ~ not an actuary ~ by profession. He's nice-enough looking, but not especially handsome. He plays a successful loose-aggressive style of poker. (I'm trying to think if I've ever observed him to have a losing session... nope, don't think so.)

Something has shifted between me and Mr. Actuary just in the last few days. It looks likely that the two of us will go to Atlantic City this coming week. If we do, we will be sharing a room for a couple of nights. The unexpectedly warm and lingering hand-clasps of this evening are a new and, dare I say, promising development.

All this is on the heels of Friday's game, at which I was once again faced with a Mr. WPY who was charming and personable and fun, and evincing exactly zero sign of anything beyond continued friendly acquaintanceship. The heck with it. Until such time as he steps up with tangible and concrete behaviors, I'm done. He's chock full of delightful qualities, but darn it, I need to see some initiative from him before I spend another minute pining. Life is too damned short.

Gentlemen, start your engines! (No more horses, it's on to automobiles. I'm not sure what the metaphorical implications are, but WHATEVER.)

Well

A. I am a little bit tipsy. Three neat shots of Jack Daniels will do that to a girl.

B. I took second in my A league. I rule.

C. There was the following conversation, after Mr. WPY busted out early and yet lingered around me:

"Do you want to get together later this week?" (Me.)

"Oh. I can't. I've got my hotel opening this week. But next week." (Him.)

"Give me a holler." (Me.)

"I'll give you a holler." (Him.)

He better fucking give me a holler. The ball is now blatantly in his court. I have done my part.

D. I gave Mr. Forearms a brief backrub (which I say with all due modesty I am very good at). He is scared of me. HIS LOSS.

E. Previously mentioned buff boy hit on me again. I gave him reason to hope. He is a gifted toucher and hey, I could use a little touching.

F. That which is forbidden becomes that much more desirable. If I'm going to get a security clearance, I must strictly eschew all illegal drugs. I don't do illegal drugs. Ever. But the moment they became strictly and forever out of bounds, I wished I could dabble. I won't, of course. So I got a little tipsy and I smoked a couple of cigarettes instead. (Regular smokers forget the effect that nicotine can have on the unhabituated. Major body and head rush. Very pleasurable.)

G. One of these boys is gonna give it up to me in the next month. It will either be Mr. WPY, or it will be Mr. Forearms, or it will be Buff Boy, or it will be Mr. Actuary (about whom I haven't written much, if anything). I am sick of sitting around in solitary splendor. Attention must be paid. And one of these guys is going to provide the requisite wherewithal. I'm just saying. First come, first served.

We interrupt this increasingly poker-oriented blog...

...to bring you potentially life-changing news.

I just had an astonishingly brief, yet apparently effective job interview. (I think when the bossman shakes your hand at the end and says "Welcome aboard!" you are entitled to consider that it has gone well.)

There are still hurdles to jump. For one thing, the prospective employer has to actually get the government contract. And then I have to *gulp* actually obtain a security clearance.

But if those two things happen, there is a very high degree of probability that I will be gainfully employed within a month or so.

Talk about 0 to 60 in 60 seconds or less!

But wait! There's a poker angle! The only reason I ever heard about this job is because I play poker with one of the program managers.

Poker networking FTW!!!

So confused

Oh my god, I am so confused.

This evening I sat to Mr. WPY's right for all the time I played (which unfortunately wasn't very long, as I had another bad run), and the vibe coming off him was so hot it was like sitting next to an electric heater. When we weren't playing, it seemed as if he followed me from one end of the room to the other.

We continue to have snatches of fascinating conversation.

This is starting to make me crazy. (Starting? This has long since made me crazy.)

I think I'm going to try the following: "Hey, I have an idea. Let's get together over a meal and talk about everything BUT poker. What do you say?"

Fuck the poker. I can find someone else to talk poker with if I have to.

(God knows if I'll actually have the nerve to do this. But I sort of hope I do.)

Oops, he did it again!

I was in a deep slumber when I heard my cell phone ring in the other room. I stumbled out of bed to go answer it, because my sister has been in a bad way the last several days, and I wanted to make sure to answer if it were she.

Which it was not.

It was he.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Um. Sort of."

"Dude, it's 10:30! Were you up really late playing?"

"Yes. But I was victorious!"

"Well, that's all that counts, then."

I climbed back into bed. There ensued a conversation about poker logistics, in which I confirmed that I would play tonight's game. I'm likely to see him there. He could have learned all this from the evite.

But now he already knows what my voice sounds like when I first wake up. (Cheater.)

Winning is more fun than losing

Fortunately, I won tonight. Free pub poker, I took away first prize and some free money. I do not feel in the slightest bit guilty that I beat out an 85 year old woman, a former blackjack expert, to do it either. Hey, she drubbed everyone BUT me, and was the massive chip leader when we went heads up.

Free money is, let's face it, is the very best kind of money.

Okay, maybe the money you give away to needy people is the best kind of money. Free money is the SECOND BEST kind of money. But I'll take it!

Tomorrow is my Main Event satellite. Wish me luck.

Variance Is Beating Me Like A Drum

Wow, have I been losing. I'm mean LOSING. Losing! Loserama time!

It's been ugly ugly ugly, this downswing. I'm watching with disbelief as my made hands get destroyed over and over. The one card in the deck my opponents need? They get it. Guaranteed.

Blech.

50 -> 400

Through a combination of winnings and various bonuses, I have turned my initial $50 deposit into more than $400.

Despite the fact that this is ~ objectively ~ peanuts, and that if you reckoned the hourly wage I'm earning for my time there'd be some child laborer in Bangladesh getting better paid, I am inordinately proud of this achievement.

I had originally planned to build up to $500 and then move up in stakes again. I think, however, that I would be wise to postpone the next step up until I reach $600. I've experienced enough swings at the current level to inspire a certain level of caution over the prospect of the next increase.

I am absolutely convinced that I can continue this steady progress if I continue to exercise Bankroll Discipline FTW. From little acorns mighty oaks do grow.

Bankroll Discipline, For The Win!

As you may recall, I recently moved up in stakes. I'm now playing the $5+.50 SNGs on 'Stars. Things started out pretty rocky at the new level, but the last bunch of games have definitely gone my way. I'm also currently playing only one table at a time (mostly) at this level, as I make any needed adjustments.

BRAG: My 'roll is now over $300. The bigger stakes make for bigger swings as well as bigger potential profits, but the lower rake contributes to a better ROI.

BRAG: I just qualified for one of the weekly WSOP freerolls. All I have to do is beat a gajillion other people some Saturday and I win a package to the Main Event. How hard can it be??? (so j/k).

At the moment: Poker... +1.
Everything else: Meh.

Mixing it up

I'm glad I have a variety of poker outlets.

I play free pub poker games. I play tournaments in two different home leagues (I call them the A and B leagues both because I started in the A league first, and because I think the overall quality of play is better there.) I play cash in a bunch of home games. I play online on two different sites (FullTilt and PokerStars). And although mostly I play no limit hold'em, I'm splashing about in Razz and Omaha a bit too.

From time to time I go to a casino, either AC or Vegas generally, and play in both tournaments and cash games.

The variety is useful in a couple of ways. If I'm running bad in one context, I frequently find that's offset by running good or at least okay in another. Adjusting to new environments, new people, and new games keeps my brain limber and my observational faculties primed and sharp.

And, let's be honest: it's not just the variety. It's the sheer quantity that's great. I can get a game whenever I want one.

The old saying...

"Lucky in cards, unlucky in love." ~ Well, maybe there's some truth to it.

I've been having a nice little run of luck in my pub games, finishing second and first recently. My social life, however, is flaming wreckage. (I can't bear to discuss the latest details of the debacle. Maybe later.)

On the other hand, since I moved up in stakes on PokerStars, it's been one catastrophically bad situation after another. Lose lose lose lose lose. Mostly on the bubble. I hate poker.

So maybe my social life is due for a turnaround?

The Ferguson Falls Before Me!

I finally won the Ferguson.

And it only *cough* took 5 hours and 19 minutes.

And it was Razz.

But still! I won the Ferguson! I am queen of the universe!

And now, next time I meet Chris Ferguson I can tell him I won his namesake tourney. How cool is that! (Maybe he should be intimidated by me! As if. :D )

And if you want to see what life is like for women who play poker, check out the delightful reception I got when I posted in the 2+2 forums about my success.

This response actually made me laugh:



[Oh, and I also cashed in the Midnight Madness tournament. Fear me, people!]

Movin' on Up!

Here we go, people. On to the $5 games. Big stakes, baby!
(Heh.)

At Least One

Well, I established a couple of things this evening.

1. I am still a damned good poker player. (I took second in my B League, and would have won except for an ill-timed encounter with pocket aces.)

2. SOME people find me quite attractive, thank you very much. Some buff, handsome, and charming young men, to be precise. Well, okay, at least ONE such creature.

It is with great personal satisfaction that I report having been the object of a very delightful seduction attempt this evening. This is a guy I've seen on the scene for months, and with whom I've always had a cheerful flirtatious interaction. He put the full court press on tonight, and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Some people have a gift for touching without being threatening or obnoxious, always just the near side of too much or too presumptuous. He is one such person, and it was truly a pleasure to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention.

He made it clear that more (much more) was available, should I wish it. And yes, I was definitely tempted. (But, you know, maybe another time. Or not.)

All I can say is: Ha! SOME people don't know what they're missing. SOME people are failing to perceive the possibilities right before their eyes. What a shame. What a waste. What a pity.

But folks, I am here to say ~ whatever rumors to the contrary I may perpetuate to my own detriment ~ I still got it, baby. And phooey on those fools who fail to appreciate it.

The Cupcake of Despair

It should have been a great night. I overcame my fangirl nerves, shook Andy Bloch's hand (he's surprisingly tall) and actually asked Chris Ferguson (surprisingly not all that tall) a poker strategy question. I was hanging out with Mr. WPY and I was happy.

The event itself proved to be something of a dud, but the two of us and a couple of other poker cronies were all keyed up to play. Mr WPY offered to host an impromptu cash game at his place. We all made phone calls and managed to put a group together in about 45 minutes (man, I know a bunch of degenerates).

He has my favorite poster of all time in his bedroom (I hadn't seen it before), the Taittainger champagne lady in yellow behind the tulip glass. I saw that and I thought: "It's so meant to be!"

Wrong.

I was hungry, and he fed me the cupcake of despair.

It was an innocuous looking yellow cupcake with chocolate frosting. "It looks homemade," I observed.

"It is," he affirmed.

And with that, I realized the jig was up.

Needless to say, this is not a man who produces baked goods. So where does this homemade cupcake come from? From the previous reliable purveyor of oven goodies, no doubt.

There was no vibe last night. None. I'm toast.

More Discipline

Or maybe just obsessiveness, you be the judge.

My original deposit of $50 on Pokerstars is now over $200. Fifty of that is cleared bonus, so on my own efforts I have so far tripled my money. My current ROI, taking into account rake, is about 15%. It's taken me about 700 games to accomplish this, as it's been done almost entirely at $1+.20 10 person sit'n'goes.

I have battled through to this level despite 40- or 50-game downswings that made me want to scream with frustration. I have the resisted the temptation to take a stab at higher stakes in hopes of building my bankroll more quickly. I am now 4-tabling so as to keep myself from getting overly cranky over any one particular bad beat or loss.

My current goal is to get to $250 playing in these $1 games. At that point, I will move up in stakes to the $5 tables. Fifty buy-ins should be enough to make that reasonable, assuming (which I do), that I ought to be able to beat those games at about the same rate as the cheaper ones.

[No phone call. Agggh.]

The Insanity of Hope

(My apologies to Senator Obama.)

Tonight new player S. took me aside. "You know what I said the other night, when I asked if you and Mr. WPY were dating?" Um hmm, I said. "Well, you all said you weren't dating, but I am pretty sure that he likes you."

We had been playing a cash game together, three-handed.

"I felt like a third wheel," she said. "He keeps looking at you and talking to you. Even my husband thought the two of you were together."

"From your mouth to God's ear," I said to her. I gave her a little background. I told her about the kitchen situation. Her jaw actually dropped.

"Oh my god," she said, "I walked in on that? I'm so sorry." I assured her it wasn't a problem, although the timing of her question was a bit awkward. "I could just tell that something was up. And when I asked if you were a couple, neither one of you dismissed the idea, or said 'We're just friends.' The air was thick between the two of you."

My poker game went entirely to shit tonight.

It was all about a marked change of gears from Mr. WPY (and, hell, me too). He was so much more forthcoming; that man was turning on the charm. And yeah, I gave it right back. Yes I did. Hopefully, I did not make an ass of myself.

He brought up a business idea he's working on and started asking me about my skills. We also talked about getting together to work through Harrington on Cash. He told me about the new restaurant in his neighborhood, specifically mentioning vegetarian dishes. His phone rang a couple of times and I swear to God each time he found a way of making it clear that it was not a woman calling him.

He decided not to play the second game. They were hollering at me from the basement to come down. He was smiling at me like a thousand suns. "Call me," I said.

Good lord, how will I stand it if he doesn't?

Rattled

Here's how off kilter I was:

1. Sitting at the table with Mr. WPY, I was so distracted by my internal state that I misread the board, mucked my hand, and thereby shipped a giant pot to an opponent who did NOT have the flush to beat my two pair.

2. I then went on tilt and misplayed the following dozen hands.

3. In a funk and aggravated with myself for both my original mistake and the subsequent tilt, I failed to respond appropriately to distinctly friendly overtures from Mr. WPY.

Just paint the big "L" on my forehead, already. Gah!

Such a coincidence

There's the other story I haven't told you. The one that involves me and Mr. WPY on Saturday afternoon.

I'm in Arlington, after having had an afternoon meeting with a prospective client (not gonna happen), with an hour and a half or so to kill before my Saturday night game. I head to the public library to read a book or something, but they decide to close at 5 pm, and I'm at loose ends.

I sit in my car with the windows fogging up and text Mr. WPY, asking if he's planning to play. The answer comes back almost immediately: yes. A few more messages back and forth. He mentions being in a mall, where he may catch a bite to eat, if the electricity comes back on.

Electricity? I just passed through an intersection where the power was out. That's interesting.

Which mall? I ask him.
Ballston Mall.

Now I'm very amused. I am three blocks away from Ballston Mall, around the corner from the restaurant we had dinner at the other week. I do not ask him what he's doing at the mall.

A few minutes later my phone rings and we arrange to meet up for a bite to eat before playing. We have an engaging poker chat. And then head off to the game.

I notice that, when we arrive at the venue, Mr. WPY lingers upstairs for an extra minute as I make my way to the basement where we play. He's done this before. He does not want to be seen arriving with me, I surmise. We don't make much of a display of friendship when we've got our game faces on.

The funny thing, though, is that during the second game that night, after he'd left, someone made a teasing comment about how Mr. WPY and I had left "practically arm in arm" the previous evening. (It is true that I busted out right after he did, and that we left the premises together and talked in the driveway for a couple of minutes.) Someone made a joking reference to his girlfriend being out of town.

Excuse me, but if poker players are passing comment.... Well, let's just say I was surprised.

Where was this horseshoe when I needed it?

Well, I FINALLY won a game in my home league. This season has been an unmitigated disaster for me: only one previous cash in two months.

Tonight, I got lucky over and over on the river. My hands held up or I sucked out, sometimes spectacularly. It was the polar opposite of my experience in Vegas.

It'll be quite a while before the Poker Karma actually evens out, but this was a good start. In any case, I'll take it!

[Update: I also won a pub poker tourney the next night. The reign of terror has begun. Fear me!]

Vegas Kicked My Ass

Made good decisions. Had fun. Definitely did not profit.

In fact, I lost a lot of money.

Played well in tournaments, only cashed in one small one. Got my money in good every time I went out, but got outdrawn to the two- and three-outers. What can you do?

Played mediocre in cash games but got extra-hammered by variance there too. My last hand was typical of the whole trip: I was felted by top set over middle set. Should I have been able to get away from it? Maybe. Maybe.

It'll be interesting to see how my poker enthusiasm weathers this fairly major body blow.

Vegas, Baby!

Just about 24 hours 'til I get in a big silver bird and fly west to poker mecca.

My game plan is as follows:

1. budget of $X per day;


2. enter one major tournament daily;


3. win or cash in tournament;


4. take tournament winnings or remainder of budget and play cash games (probably 1/2 NL);


5. lather, rinse, repeat;


6. ????


7. Profit!

I also expect to hang out with the Poker Academy folks, catching up with old friends and, I hope, making some new ones.

Of course my goal is to not NEED my budget after the first day or two, but rather to be ahead. Nevertheless, having a stop-loss seems like a good idea. I know it's possible to run extremely bad (viz. some of my previous trips to AC).

Actually, my game plan really goes like this:

1. Make good decisions.


2. Have fun.


3. Profit!

Proud of Myself

I played in a cash game tonight. A couple of hours in, I was up 6x my buy-in.

And then I was brutally coolered, when my set of Queens was crushed by a set of Kings, both of us all-in on the 9KQ flop.

Why proud?

Because I didn't steam. I didn't tilt. I shrugged it off and managed to finish the evening with a profit of 2x my buy-in. I played well and maintained my discipline despite a serious setback.

I am prouder of that than I am of the actual monetary gain.

Teh Cuteness: What is to be done about it?

A lovely evening's game in the company of Mr. UC. He greeted me with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. We took turns sharing tunes via iPod/iPhone. (Apparently I play even more aggressively when listening to rap. Imagine that.)

After he busted out, he sat behind me until I went out sixth at the final table, half an hour later... playing DJ for me from his iPod. There's something very hot about someone's musical selections being piped directly into your head.

I now know how old he is, as he volunteered this information unprompted. Oy. So it appears I have collected yet another inappropriately-aged male friend of great attractiveness. Why, Lord, why?

I do enjoy the hugs though. (There are generally two per evening. Now my challenge is to come up with a way to increase that number. And the kisses, what about the kisses? I do feel there ought to be kisses.)

Bubble Girl

I should just have that tattooed on my forehead. It is sooooo aggravating.