The good thing is that a lot of my life at home is the complete opposite at work. At work, I'm pretty organized, efficient, and get stuff done.
At home, all I want to do is play online poker, eat, and sleep. For me, "online poker" is one of my primary levels under Maslow's hierarchy of physiological needs.
Like being a functional gambling addict, I'm a functional procrastinator.
Now I have to clean the apartment because it's being shown tomorrow, which is why I'm delaying by writing this. (I'm busted again from Full Tilt, but I've made Iron Man for the month so Maslow can suck it.)
I have less than a month to find a place. I want something in walking distance or at least a short bus ride to work, and I want a nice kitchen and a nice bathroom, so I can maybe invite people over for a nice dinner and a nice shit.
That would also require furniture, which I still haven't purchased after 3 years because I still feel like I could get fired at any moment, and I need to be able to pick up and move easily. I've always marveled at hobos or The Incredible Hulk, who could fit all their belongings into that little bindle as they traversed the railroad tracks to a sad piano tune. The Hulk had even less belongings, as he always busted through his clothes anytime anyone made him angry. A couple Anger Management classes would've saved a bundle on his clothing budget.
A new apartment near work goes for roughly double what I'm paying now for my squat studio -- and the neighborhood would be considerably worse than my current one. Go figure on that one. Why can't I stay another year and put the extra money to a monthly car payment (plus furniture, even), and still have enough left over to blow on gambling?
Beats me. Could've asked that last year as well. Procrastination again. I like not having to worry about a car, particularly when dealing with the brutal 16 months of winter every year. My car was totaled by a snowplow on the first midwest snowfall I experienced (I later blew the insurance money playing online blackjack), so I wasn't subjected to the horrors of winter driving that I left behind in D.C. when moving to Vegas.
Car problems aren't what I'm eagerly looking forward to, either. But can I deal with trudging through the snow to wait for a late bus, getting fatter by not eating healthy (my kitchen consists of an untouched oven/stove and a refrigerator storing Ben & Jerry's), and squashing dozens of ants every day for exercise?
We'll see. The physical act of moving my ass at all surely takes the top spot on the procrastination list.
— —
Monday, June 08, 2009
How not to flirt
It was a beautiful summer night in Chicago, made even better by just being Friday in general to kick off the weekend, and I joined some friends for martinis and shots at my local bar.
This is one of two local bars that has Coffee Patron, which the bartender keeps handy because it's her favorite tequila. I like this bar because they have a $3 burger with fries on Mondays, $5 martinis on Fridays, and all the waitstaff drink throughout their shift.
And not just any drinks but Jameson.
Our server Lacie said when she interviewed, they asked what her favorite drink was. She was hired on the spot after she said Jameson, and shots were poured to celebrate.
Lacie doesn't have the hardcore redneck vibe going for her that the other servers do, but she seemed sweet and friendly.
I brought up my standard prop betting on the server -- pets, birthplace, tattoos, etc.
The rules: we each make a bet and collect the pot if we're correct. If none of us are right, the server gets the whole thing.
"What kind of car does she drive?" I asked the group. I took out a $5. They said "no car" but didn't look willing to play. I reduced my $5 to a $1, but it wasn't enough coaxing.
The girl in my group said that it was somewhat degrading and not at all flirting by wagering on the waitress.
Even though I've moved from Las Vegas, it hasn't moved from me. But I have to remember that not everyone is in a gambling state of mind.
My friend also said she thought Lacie liked me because of the mutual flirting she picked up, and I shouldn't spoil it.
We were one Zombie, two martinis, and two Coffee Patrons into the night, and I asked Lacie what the girliest shot on the menu was.
The fallback was going to be a Chocolate Cake with the backup of an Oatmeal Cookie.
Lacie instantly said both with no hint of derision, particularly since she was a Jameson woman.
We went with the Chocolate Cake (Frangelico, vanilla vodka, sugar around the rim, and a lemon), and as always, it was delicious.
I tried to get the group to go for a Jameson so I could buy Lacie one too, but it was too soon and we had to let the liquid settle.
When Lacie returned, as a conversation starter, I asked her if she knew the song "One Night in Bangkok."
We had been talking about David Carradine's death in Bangkok, and the song kept whirling around my head. Particularly the song's lyric: "One night in Bangkok, and the world's your oyster."
"And the world's your oyster?"
My friends said that couldn't be right. I began doubting it too -- that's a pretty ridiculous lyric, even for ABBA. Chess is one of my favorite musicals, I've seen it three times and wore out the two albums I had, but I never cared for that song. And even so, could I be humming the wrong lyric the entire time?
My iPhone wasn't getting reception, so I put the test to Lacie, who knew the song, but didn't recognize the lyric.
She said she got lyrics wrong all the time, which I do too when I can remember them.
"Sometimes," I said, "you're singing along with the lyrics and you don't even know what they mean."
Lacie nodded excitedly and agreed.
"Like that Kenny Rogers song," I said. "You know the one about the guy who was called a coward and told to always run away from bad situations or else end up like his father in jail?"
I was met with a blank stare, including my friends who didn't know the song.
And I knew where this was heading as my foot moved to my mouth.
"So you're singing along to this nice little country song," I said, "and then you realize that the guy's girlfriend was gang raped."
Lacie literally took a step back from the table.
On poker sites, you can self-exclude yourself to prevent donking off your bankroll. You can self-exclude yourself from casinos too, which then even makes you guilty of trespassing.
I need to self-exclude myself from my rapidly degenerating conversations.
"I mean, gang rape!" I emphasized in a joking way, not helping matters by repeating it loudly.
I tried to recover the moment, saying how it was nice Kenny Rogers and that the guy in the song finally stood up, and...
Lacie walked away.
My friends stared at me incredulously as I said what happened? We were having fun.
"I don't know, could it possibly have been because you kept mentioning gang rape?"
Lacie later appeared one more time with the check, and didn't say anything more to us.
Afterwards, I returned home, put on "Coward of the County" that was missing the gang rape lyrics and wondered if I imagined the whole thing (I didn't -- check the other YouTube videos).
I then launched Full Tilt with no self-exclusion and entered a few sit-n-gos before passing out during the first orbit (while asleep, I placed 4th in both -- always the bubble).
— —
Monday, April 13, 2009
No time like the present by grubette
It's only April and not even close to thinking about Winter Blogger events or the National Rodeo, but since I found this great deal, I thought I'd share.
At the MGM, this deal is $220 for a weekend December 11-12, 2009 and includes "all day passes" at the MGM Grand Buffet. This allows for a non-stop grubfest of food, at a buffet that's actually quite good.
I've been running hot and cold at the tables lately with nothing to note.
The other day, I was witness to a AA vs JJ $100 NL showdown pre-flop, that resulted in an Ace on the flop, then runner-runner J's for Aces full vs. quads, a $100k jackpot.
$100k jackpots aren't that unusual, and neither is a celebratory dance on a chair, as the bad beat guy did (heck, I'd be on the table stripping while doing karaoke if I won $60,000 in a bad beat).
What is unique is that the bad beat guy's day job is sitting on the 605 North Carson off ramp, holding a sign that says "homeless." I didn't believe this at first, until I talked to a bunch of people including the floor supervisor, who confirmed that on any given night 10-15 homeless people are wandering around, including the bad beat guy. Everyone I talked to also unanimously said, "Good for him."
Was I the only one thinking WTF?! I don't know his situation and don't really care, but anyone who sits on the side of the road for handouts and then uses that to play $100 no limit?? Then gets luckier than most of the poor saps in the joint to win $60k!
Good lord what has this world come to. I'm bitter for sure.
— —
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The lipids of grubette by grubette
And here we are in 2009, ready for another round of "Check out grubette's lipids."
At first blush, these appear to be fine numbers. However, my cholesterol overall number is nearly 30 points more than last year. I blame my rising HDL, the good cholesterol, skewing my results. By the way, HDL range is generally around 40-50, but the higher the better. Why this year are my HDL's at alien levels? Let's see what the experts list as ways to increase levels and how I contribute.
How Can We Increase Our HDL Levels?
Aerobic exercise. I walk my dog three times a day. However, she has ballooned to 42 lbs. because she is often caught scarfing down cat food. I also bought an i-Gallop because you can "exercise while watching tv." It's gathering dust.
Lose weight. Nope.
Stop smoking. Nope.
Cut out the trans fatty acids. I believe the government and McDonald's is doing this for me.
Alcohol. Alcohol is good for HDL levels. I blame this.
Increase the monounsaturated fats in your diet. I'm not too big on oils or peanut butter.
Add soluble fiber to your diet. SpaghettiO's have 3g of fiber and grapes have 1g. That's about the extent of my fiber intake.
I have no idea. Genes maybe? Poorly trained blood testers? In either case, it's a strong indication I won't drop dead of heart disease any time soon. I'll get back to you next year.
I've been recovering from Vegas a couple weekends ago, having endured a pounding on slots but did find a shining bright spot that is pai gow.
Played on IP $1/2 NL semi-blogger table of BWoP, F-Train and a new guy Pokergrump, who said he often sees this blog on rolls because it's so similar in name. Grump was not as his name suggests, and was quite comical as a relaxed local, even casually bringing in his double scoop waffle cone and eating it on the table, to the chagrin of every other player that can't eat, play cards and stack chips at the same time.
$1/2 card playing is terribly boring. I drank more beers than the number of hands I played. I donkeyed out F-Train on one bored hand, causing him to huff off. That was like the only hand I won and couldn't even enjoy it. Even worse, I hadn't played poker in over a week so I was ready to play and rake in some chips. But it was not to be.
Mamagrub also showed up to IP that night, checking into a room over looking the Carnival Court bar, rousing even at 3am. Since my mother is more of a sleeper than a partier, she wasn't too keen on watching and listening to drunkards. Fortunately, I had another room at IP for her, complete with a bar, a pull out wipe clean sofa and mirrored ceilings.
Doug and I stayed and didn't play at the Palazzo -- there is nothing better than waking up in the morning and pushing a button to dramatically raise the roman blinds to peer out onto the Wynn, its golf course and the newly built Encore. And to realize it's daylight. And not morning, afternoon, but whatever.
We did actually visit Encore, walking through the Wynn to witness a woman having a seizure on the floor amid scores of camera wielding onlookers. Doug walked away quickly saying he didn't want to stare, but commented that she had red panties on. Both casinos are ok, overdone a bit and lacking the feeling of luck.
Ah Vegas. It's like a bad boyfriend you keep going back to.
So I finally joined the facebook revolution. Perhaps that's too strong of a word --"networking application" then. It's absolutely wonderful to see all the bloggers on there with their real names. I wonder how people have time for this .. blogging, facebooking, along with work and life. I think myself adept at multitasking, working on two applications today while also shopping for a purse and thinking about my looming paper due in a few days for one of my classes. Last two classes. Can't. Wait.
Time to go home - and walk my dog to get those HDL levels up.
— —
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
22 days in Vegas by grubette
Seeing grubby's post I counted how many days I'd been Vegas over the year. Twenty-two, not counting the seven upcoming days to round out the year. It seems like an enormous amount of time to spend someplace, but then again, I live less than an hour's plane flight away.
I'm somewhat as comp-happy as grubs is, mostly staying in free hotel rooms but not getting much else. I love Vegas because it presents opportunities - not just to make money but also to do whatever you want to do and not be judged for it. Drinks at 10am? Smoking in the bathroom? $100 bills in Devil Poker? All-in on draws? No snickers or glares here.
At an end of the year happy hour last week, a co-worker of mine showed me a picture of his wife and new baby on his phone. It was right after the baby was born, mom and baby were both naked, and they were both in a tub full of brown goo and blood from the natural home delivery. Not something you should do at a bar, no. Vegas yes, but a bar, no. I don't particularly enjoy seeing regular baby pictures let alone ones that include afterbirth.
So Vegas beckons again in a few days. I had so much fun at the blogger winter tourney last week, this time it will be more sedate of a time. I crashed out early of the tourney when my pocket Aces met up with Iggy's AQ. Two Q's on the board and it was over. I did return to watch the final table and see Heather and Obie battle it out - congrats Heather!
I did not win much of anything that weekend, especially my generally stable Pai Gow. I probably would not have been on as much of an all-things-gambling-tilt had I not pushed twice into two different pots with grubby and lost both times. I also lost the last longer bet with grubs.
The only thing I won was at the airport before actually stepping into a casino. My dentist called me to tell me I won Zoom! teeth whitening, a thrice a year contest I've been entering for 11 years. Add that to my cat's neutering I won on a radio contest and a wine tasting party for 25 as some of the odder things I've won. One year my new year's "resolution" was to enter as many sweepstakes and contests as I could. A la Real Genius, you should win a certain percentage of your entries. I ended up with a crapload of junk mail.
Staying away from HI-G since the blogger tourney, I played two qualifiers on Pokerstars' WBCOOP (Omaha and No Limit). Got about halfway with Omaha and made 132nd in No Limit out of 500+ players. At one point, I had so many chips I could've sat out and been blinded until I came in 72nd. I think I even got as far as I did because I took a 20 minute break to walk my dog. Online poker is so awkward. Quick calls or slow plays, how can you tell if it's a connection thing or bluff or what?
A memorable part of the blogger tourney trip was Doug meandering over to the IP poker room while grubby and I played at the same table along with Rooster and donkeypuncher. He brought along an obvious hooker that he introduced around and offered to stake $100 to play. She declined and then left, but Doug didn't believe she was a working girl. At the next morning, he recalled she wanted him to buy her a water at the gift store, to which he obliged At the cashier, she threw in some condoms, saying, "We're going to need these." Who cares? It's Vegas!
— —
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The last Harrah's
Since last posting, I left Vegas, returned for the blogger tourney, and as of Friday am back again. Even my gambling friends said I was insane.
I'm dumping all my comps and stiffing casinos for the last 2 weeks of the year, booking hotel rooms, freeplay, free food, and slot tournaments at 12 different hotel-casinos.
My New Year's resolution is to rid myself of these offers, which get me to visit Las Vegas far more than I should. From Nov. 16 to Jan. 3, I'll have been in Vegas a whopping 30 days. That's too much, even for me, and even for free.
It's sort of like when a girl came on Maury Povich with her fear of pickles and Maury tried to dump pickles on her to cure her phobia.
This trip is my pickles.
First on the target list is what's become my favorite hotel -- The Venetian/Palazzo. At The Venetian over the blogger tourney, I was told I was overcomped for my 3 nights, $100 freeplay, and $50 food. Overcomped means I won't get anything more above those offers, and I'm less likely to get the same offer in the future.
But here's what overcomped also means: last weekend at The Venetian, I lost $2130 (plus $135 if you count the blogger tourney that I didn't cash in) over 6 hours of play. That's just at Venetian, excluding losses elsewhere.
Like the majority of casinos, Venetian doesn't take into account actual losses, they calculate Average Daily Theoretical. This was made popular by Harrah's, which even holds a patent on how to calculate player comps (Harrah's lost the battle of protecting their tiered system, which is why many casinos now offer Total Rewards-like tiers).
Whether you win or lose, you receive comps based on average bet and time played. Longer is always better. My average bet last weekend was $1.71 per pull. At about 12 spins per minute, that's 720 spins per hour, or $1231.20 of coin-in per hour.
For 6 hours, that's $7387.20 of playthrough.
Figuring a 10 percent hold on penny slots (from the back pages of Slots Today), I'm expected to lose $738.72. What I lost is more indicative of a 29 percent hold, but way too small a sample. And besides, Nevada's maximum hold percentage on a slot machine is 25 percent. I was just unlucky.
That I lost three times that amount doesn't come into play when calculating comps. There used to be a time when you could scrounge some sympathy out of a pitboss or host for a food comp, but as things become more and more computerized (or Harrah's-ized), even they have lost authority.
If I were to win big, however, all bets are off and I would see even better offers to lure me back and return some of my winnings.
It doesn't make much sense to me that casinos make this the exception, yet they don't see the player who loses $2000 per trip every trip, even if they don't make their ADT.
Why not continue to comp that player?
Last weekend, my host at Venetian said I needed another 6 hours of play at my average bet before I could start asking for any additional comps, which means Venetian wants players to play enough to an average loss of $500 per day for a free room ($1477.44 / 3 days).
This is roughly equivalent to a $1 average bet for 8 hours per day of play (about $5760 coin-in/day) in order to get a free room, confirmed by another host.
This trip, I'm again overcomped.
My playthrough was $17,232 at a higher $1.89 average bet over 14 hours (I won't say how much I lost, but you can probably figure it out).
But it also includes entry into a $50,000 slot tournament and $50,000 sweepstakes tournament, the EV of which is about $333 for both.
My intention was to stiff the casinos, but the sweepstakes tourney was enough to get me to play -- 1 entry for every 100 points.
We'll see if it pays off. With 172 sweepstakes entries, I had better win something. I bombed in the slot tournament with a big fat zero, so all my eggs are in the sweepstakes.
The person at the player's club said I had the most amount of entries she'd seen so far, with the next highest being 112.
With 300 players and cash awards to 100th place, I figure I have a better than 1 in 3 shot at hitting something. 1st place is $20,000, 2nd is $10,000 and 3rd is $5000. 51st through 100th get $50 in slot credits.
I'm writing this with an hour to go before the awards reception.
If I get nothing, the Venetian/Palazzo will soon see what hath the wrath of my bad luck.
— —
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A Thanksgiving story
After all the news coverage about the busiest travel season in Vegas, there were no lines at all -- rental car shuttle, baggage check-in, security, tram... and now I'm at the gate with 3 hours to kill.
Luckily, McCarran has free WiFi, and I multi-tabled seven tournaments and netted $54.
One was a 3-table tourney and when 5-handed I cursed a little loudly when my A10 on the button ran into AA in the big blind. And it figures that we were both the big chipstacks. He went on to win, and I went on to close Full Tilt.
Very glad to be leaving. Ten days in Vegas is way too long. I had my biggest slot wins (relative to bet size) this trip, but on the other hand, I gave it all back and lost more than I want to admit.
I overstuffed myself on more than one occasion, which caused an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom.
Besides buffets and starchy foods, the food theme this trip was Asian noodle soup.
Palazzo has Zine, which is mediocre made worse with too many scallions. Upstairs in the Palazzo shops is Mainland, which opened earlier this year but was closed while I was there.
Harrah's has Ming's Table, which is overpriced but excellent and has a $14.95 spring roll/soup/rice/entree combo (also a $19.95 all-you-can-eat soup and sushi deal, but from selected sushi). I was staying in the Mardi Gras tower and Ming's is right next to it, plus I can use my comps there.
But my favorite noodle place is Noodle Asia at The Venetian, which has the added benefit of being open till 3 a.m. Every trip I work my way through the menu and have yet to find anything I don't like. It's modeled on the late night Hong Kong noodle shops with fast service and big crowds, but you can always cut through and sit at the bar.
The morning after a particularly big late-night soupy dinner, I stepped out of the shower, farted, then went to the bathroom.
At The Venetian, the bathroom is in a closed area, and when I came out, there was something brown on the white shag rug. It looked like a little dog had visited and left a present.
I hadn't farted, I'd sharted. And there was the evidence on the rug.
I pulled out a bunch of tissues and tried wiping it off but only made it worse. Dab it, don't wipe it, was the mantra I'd forgotten when my dog made similar messes on the rug.
I used all the tissues and shifted to toilet paper, dabbing disintegrating strips of toilet paper soaked with soapy water in an effort to hide my soupy shame.
Finally I was left with specks of toilet paper and a faded dried brown stain that I could claim was like that when I got there.
The Do Not Disturb sign stayed on the door the whole trip until I left, where I piled the dirty towels on top of the soiled rug, hoping they would just collect everything together and put it in the laundry.
by grubette
Grubby's Hands of the Week
What is The Hammer?
