Saturday, Part A; aka “Dear lord, please don’t let me puke on the felt.” (4)

Ouch. Definitely a martini ouch. Juliette insists she needs to eat; she needs “blotter” before the WPBT. Her first impulse is to order steak and eggs. Eggs. EGGS! And she claims to be my friend. After I make known my objections to her eating eggs, she settles for French toast. One look at it and I’m waiting for her outside the restaurant.

We then head slowly and carefully to the Poker room @ Ceasar’s, enlisting Bill Rini to help prop us up along the way.

April has arranged a killer day; Linda, Jay, Michael and Howard all speak eloquently and even in my…delicate…state I’m laughing and enjoying every word. Then it’s Phil’s turn and the Roshambo tournament.

Roshambo – is that an American thing? I swear I had never heard called anything but Rock Paper Scissors until a month or so ago. We get in the two lines, and I find I’m across from Maudie – don’t worry, I say, I rarely win these things. Sigh. I’m truly sorry Maudie, I usually don’t win! I swear! You’ve seen me play poker, right?

So I make it to the second round and look up to see Phil Gordon pointing at me and saying “you’re mine”.

I think the cosmos paused in their orbit. In that pause, that blink of an eye, my hangover disappeared, the sun shone, the ozone layer healed itself, global warming cooled and a lasting peace in the Middle East was obtained. All was right with the world.

In retrospect he probably recognized a transparent fish; in any case, I played Rock Paper Scissors with Phil (PHIL! Phil TOUCHED MY HAND!), the object of my poker hero worship (he has a GREAT voice. I so dig a good voice, even more than a good butt). After a couple of draws, he got me with two in a row. I walked away to hear Jules say “you were done by Phil!” Done by Phil...swoon. Is it a bad thing that the first thought in my head is how that would make a good blog post title??

If anyone has a picture of that I’d gladly pay for it, if only to prove to Hunny Bunny that it happened.

I took my seat to find I have Veneno to my right and Aimlessly Chasing Amy to my left. To Amy’s left is Bill Rini. Veneno goes out in spectacular fashion, against Ryan’s Royal Flush. She misses the Gigli prize by mere moments. I’d feel very bad for her if she hadn’t just won the Roshambo and acquired an hour poker lesson with Phil. My one coherent thought/mantra until my table is broken goes something like you-are-so-outclassed-don’t-fuck-up.

When I changed tables I found myself beside the one person I really wanted to meet more than just about everyone else – Gracie. Watching her play online has taught me to be patient, and wait for the cards. Reading her blog has shown me it’s ok to let yourself peek out around the edges a bit. And through her I was able to see what baby armadillos look like. *grin. She is just as lovely and fabulous irl as she is online.

I have no clear idea of how I lasted until the just past the second break. The best hand I got between the first and second breaks was a pair of nines. I was on the button and just waiting for a chance to act when Linda raises heavily in front of me. Suddenly my nines look less than fabulous so I fold. After that it was all down hill. I’m down to a blind left in chips and I see 72. OK. As in other blogger events, I decide to choose the honourable way out – suicide by hammer. I’m all in. The guy in seat 3 (sorry, I’m bad, bad with names) calls me and flips K J. Flop shows a King and I’m out.


Saturday, Part B; aka “Well that went differently than expected!” (5)

After the WPBT, J and I head to the Rio – she’s going to enter into a SnG satellite and I just need to see it. It’s the sound that hits me the most; the low murmur of voices barely audible over the sound of the chips. The clicking of the chips seems an almost organic sound; like crickets and grasshoppers on a hot summer day. It seems a constant level until you really listen, then you can pick out the patterns of crescendo and decline.

And I got bitten. I thought I might play a table as well and maybe get into Sundays Ladies Event. The rest of this story can be found here; I’m too lazy to type it again.

The choice has been made, and I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I'm no longer trying too hard. I leave J to her fate and grab a cab. The cabbie told stories that will linger in my mind forever. I’d rather they didn’t, to be honest - toothless gandmas shakin' their thang...shudder. Got to the castle and dicked around until I met J, then off for a decent meal involving lots of water, green veggies, pasta and more water. My body was once more happy with me.

Saturday, Part C; aka “Can your pussy do the dog?” (6)

J decided to get some rest; me, I’m a glutton for punishment so I shower and make myself presentable for Storming the Castle. No one’s around yet so I join the 3/6 limit game. It’s a quiet table. Then Eva (one of the most lovely people I've ever met, both inside and and out) comes over and I realize I’ve been sitting beside GMoney all this time! D’oh! We proceed to talk about poker, blogging, and music (where we have a surprising amount in common) while drinking. Interspersed with this is some actual poker. OK, now I’ll admit I wasn’t too on the ball in terms of playing; I was having way more fun chatting with G and saying hi to all the bloggers who stopped by. But I seriously think that the Excalibur dealers need to lighten up. I don't expect the cameraderie of Binions, but I don't expect that much 'tude from people in the service industry either.

Once more I’m taught a lesson in why poker and booze don’t mix, and shortly after Maudie joins us, I’m out.

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(4) Jules at the WPBT
(5) Me to Jules, at the Rio
(6) GMoney to me, as we’re talking old 80’s music - it's an old Cramps song, btw.