Divine

So, today's tasks include cleaning the kitchen surfaces, cleaning the bathroom, cleaning the litter box and all the pet food and water bowls, helping make the beds, and probably some sweeping.

I'm really looking forward to all that.

But before I went out gaming last night I promised the PhantomWife that she could play foreman to my dogsbody today.

She's still feeling like hell because of the fertility treatments, and yesterday I left her here alone to go have fun at the WeHO gals' home game.

I did have a lot of fun, too. Came back lighter in the pockets, (could have been a bit lighter; more on that after the break), but I learned a hell of a lot, and the hosts were extremely gracious. Great bunch of people showed up. If they'll have me back I'll definitely go, and hopefully have my inner donkey held more in check. (But I love my inner donkey....)

But before going into (only a little more) detail, I would like to discuss my ideas on Divine Intervention.

Leaving the game last night, I mentioned to Karol that I had the theory that God talks to us all the time, and we just refuse to listen. There's an old joke about a guy who prays fervently every night, asking to win the lottery. After years of this God finally appears before the guy and says "Lenny, I'd love to help, but you have to buy a ticket!"

Last night Divine Intervention worked hard to get me to not go. First bad break: As I left the house, I had ~$150 in my pockets. My plan was to take $250; that would be enough for the $30 buy-in for the tourney (figured I'd only buy in once; if I busted out early I'd just watch things until the cash game started) and $200 for the side games.

I was getting a late start because for some reason I thought the starting time was 9:00; when I went to send the directions to my cell phone I had misremembered and the actual time was 8:30. Aaargh. And more about those directions later.

So I walk over to the local liquor store, stock up on booze to take, pay with my bankcard no problem. Walk across the street to the ATM to take out another $120. "Transaction denied." WTF? It's not a Chase ATM, but it is a Bank ATM, so it shouldn't be a communications problem, but I can't even get a balance. "Transaction denied."

Okey dokey. I'll try an ATM at my destination. Walk to the subway, get lucky with my transfers, and I'm at the correct subway stop (corner of Church and 18th street) in plenty of time. Flip my phone open, read the directions, head west on Church Street looking for Ocean Parkway.

But first, more cash. Find an ATM. Same result.

This is the point where I'm thinking about how God might be telling me to fold this hand.

(Still don't know what was going on there. Nothing looks odd on-line with our accounts, no messages about suspicious activity or anything. I'm thinking it was just a general network failure, but who knows?)

So, I hit Ocean a lot sooner than I expect. S'Okay, I start looking for the number given, and figure that's about the right time given the building numbering. So I walk a ways and find the right number.

Except it obviously ain't the right number.

Crap crap crap.

Look closer at the street signs. This is Ocean Avenue I'm on. Directions said Ocean Parkway. So wearing my best donkey expression I ask a random stranger "Excuse me, is Ocean Avenue the same thing as Ocean Parkway." The lady is very nice; she's obviously had to deal with the brain-damaged before. She tells me Ocean Parkway is at least a 30 minute walk away. It's now 8:25

Backtrack.

And of course I am now totally turned around.

When I get there I duck back into the subway station, look at the map, and become even more confused if that's possible, and I'm in minor freak-out mode because I'm already 10 minutes late (that's right, I'm not a native New Yorker), but I see where the problem is; somewhere in the recent past I have lost the ability to tell my right from my left, my east from my west.

I find True West and start hoofing.

So, I hit Coney Island Parkway, I'm 20 minutes late, I don't remember Coney Island Parkway from the map in the subway station, and I'm in one craptastic bad mood, and I don't trust myself to know shit from shinola, directions-wise. I use my lifeline

411. Brooklyn, NY. Safeway Car Service. Connecting. Press one to speak with an operator.

"I need to be picked up. I need to go to YYY Ocean Parkway, I'm at the corner of Coney Island Parkway and Church Avenue, and I am totally lost."

"Which corner?"

I contemplate North, South, East, and West and answer honestly "I have no fucking idea."

"Do you see the auto parts place?"

OMFG.

"Yeah, it's across the street."

"How about the pizza joint?"

Actually, I'm on the phone right now with God. Who knew he worked for Safeway Taxi Service? And maybe He doesn't mind if I play poker tonight after all.

"The pizza place is across the street too, on the other corner."

"Okay, cross the street, keep walking straight on Church, you're three blocks awasy."

From this point forward, the Mut will use Safeway Taxi whenever possible, and tip liberally.

But note to self -- never rely on written direction (especially when they're limited to 127 characters) when you could just print a map.

So I arrive, finally, a little before 9:00. Things are just getting set up, people are finding seats, and I think I wasn't even the last one there, but I could be mistaken on that.

So my state of mind wasn't what you'd call the best to get started, but, hey.

As to the poker itself, I was pretty happy with my play before the first break; got some very good cards for a while, including rockets at one point and making a boat at another, busted some people out -- (Sorry, Dawn, et. al., I don't have the monster memory for hands that you folks do, at least not when I'm in meatspace) -- and had a pretty big stack going.

Then there was the bourbon incident, which I will not discuss here.

It's a good thing I love my inner donkey, I guess.

Anyway, afer the breaks the structure of the tourney was such that the blinds were bleeding me dry, I'd gone pretty much card-dead, my smallish suited connectors were being mile-missed, and when I'd get a middling hand (J9 off, which I generally like to play) play in front of me would drive me out because, well, just because. At one point a very good player who I read as pushing people off cards raises up to what would be about 30% of my stack, I've got K9 suited (and even though I know it's a crap hand, I love the whole "K9" abbreviation and they were, well, suited) so I go all in. The gentleman whose handle I do not know flips rockets, and I'm busted in 9th, IIRC. I decide not to re-buy; 2000 in chips gets through one round of blinds at that point, and it just doesn't make sense.

Not unhappy with the finish, really, considering it was my first live experience.

Cash game starts. Being very poor, I buy in for $80 with nothing behind because that last $20 for the max buy in is spoken for. (I will not try to get back to the subway station on foot; Safeway Taxi, take me home.) I know I don't have enough to really play, even at .50/1 blinds, but I want to hang around and learn.

I'm wasn't happy at all with my play in the cash game, but that just goes back to the "scared money" addage. Nothing was hitting, I started fishing, and I'd become a calling station, loosing a dollar here, 5 dollars there, playing awful.

Finally, in early position, down to about $50 of my original $80, I decide to push next decent opportunity, just because. I get pocket 8s, say something about making a stand, go all-in. Folds to Karol, who has a real hand, and calls with KQ. This is actually pretty much what I wanted; coin flip, with me a little ahead. Her king hits, I'm felted.

Later Dawn tells me I should have played those for less up front, and of course her logic is impeccable. I didn't know what was coming after; someone could have woken up with a monster pocket pair after me and I would have been dominated, I might have spoiled a hand with monster earning potential should a third 8 have been destined for the flop and everyone folds, etc. The problem with that was I wasn't getting a read on anybody, I felt like I was bleeding money away, I knew the 8s had good (obviously not great, but good) show-down potential, and if I could buy a small pot it wouldn't hurt my confidence or my table image. If I'd been in a position to re-buy chips, I would have done exactly what Dawn suggested. As is, I decided to try to get lucky, and I didn't. C'est la vie.

So I stuck around until the end afterward watching, trying to learn something.

Thoughts:

• A lot of pots get won without showdown. I knew that intellectually, but it's different seeing it in real life. I realize that my ability to put people on hands on-line (and I really am pretty good at that) comes from seeing hands flip. I need to think about how much I use that as a crutch.
• On-line limit hold'em bores me to tears, but in the real world I should probably start there if I go to Atlantic City.
• Another crutch: my 2.8M PSD bankroll. (Yes, I got home, went to bed, and couldn't sleep, so I was again Up for Poker. Another hour of play, another 50K PSD.) It's a nice feeling knowing you can go all-in at any time and re-buy for the max if your monster draw misses. Bankroll counts.
• The distractions in a live game are much more of an issue. Simply tracking the action takes a level of concentration that on-line doesn't require. Oddly enough, that makes focusing on the cards easier, because I have to focus or lose it entirely.
• Finally, the WeHO girls rock. If either of you read to this point, thanks for inviting me; I had a great time.

Bankroll status: 2.75M PSD -- 0 USD (Sigh.....).