Heads Up!

It must have been my junior year in high school, 1993. I threw discuss on the track team, and we were practicing indoors, in the double sized gym, throwing hard rubber discusses.

I was sitting on an aluminum bench, talking to Nick, when suddenly, our conversation was shattered by the sound of a discus slamming into the bench next 18 inches from me. I looked up, incredulously, at Coach Moran, giving him the ultimate "what the FUCK?" look without saying anything.

He was already coming toward me, smiling, with his hands up in a peace offering pose, trying to explain himself, "Look, I knew the discuss wasn't going to hit you, so I didn't want to yell something that would cause you to move into it's path." Kenny, a 6 foot 5 260 lb. defensive lineman, who had thrown the disc, now grunted "heads up," and chuckled, as he picked up another disc.

So why do I bring up this seemingly random story? Well, I'm glad you asked. You see, Oscar has taken to peeing on people in the Small Dog Run. He wanders around, and then, with little warning, lifts his leg and hoses down an unwary target.

Now, sometimes Oscar is out of ammo, and it's just a harmless leg lift, and sometimes he has juice left, but misses his target. However, there are times when he manages to label someones leg with pee.

So my dilemma is, as I see Oscar lift his leg, do I

a) shout "Oscar NO!" and draw attention to it, which, although perhaps making me look like a responsible dog owner, will highlight the fact to the victim that they are getting peed on, and usually does nothing to deter Oscar anyway. It will also highlight the fact that my boy is a people-pee-er.

b) stay silent, hoping Oscar has no ammo left, or will miss their leg

c) count on the person not to notice anyway

Today, I opted for option a), but Oscar lifted his leg anyway, and nailed a lady sitting on the bench, who then, in horror, gasped, "Oh my goodness! is that on ME?" I snatched up Oscar immediately, and took him out of the dog run, all the while cursing this idiot who wasn't paying attention and blamed my baby! I mean, you have to understand, this shit happens in the dog run - that's why you don't wear your fancy pants, and that's why you pay attention when dogs are sniffing around at your feet.

Anyway, who could stay mad at this face:

Happy New Year to everyone.



-KD

Kid Dynamite Plays Poker!

Many posts ago, this blog was started as a POKER BLOG! Lately, I've played so little, it's morphed into a little soapbox for me to rant about all things Fergalicious. Tonight, however, I played poker again! In a big way.

Let me keep this short and sweet: you know a poker game is huge when you walk up to the table of a 5-5NL game which you know to have a $750 max buy in, and see so many chips on the table that you have to confirm their denominations... "Blacks are $100, greens are $25 right?" I ask, feeling like an idiot, but wondering how there can possibly be almost $30k on the table.

"Yes," I get the reply, and eager stares from the sharks eager to take the money of the guy who doesn't know the chip values. Fortunately, I know most of these players, and despite (or because of) their six sigma play (open raise to $50, or $75, reraise to $200, which can be cold-called 3 times. Most hands are straddled or double straddled, so it's basically a 5-5-10 NL game), I manage to book a nice win in 3 hours, playing very few hands.

until next time,

KD

Happy Holidays

Kid Dynamite, Mrs. Dynamite and Oscar Dynamite

Vegas December To Remember 2006: Marty Up!

Friday.

As always, I had the trip details fully planned. Not the rookie "pimp shirt and straw hat to impress the young sluts" details - the "there are 30 free seats on the 3:20 pm flight out of Newark, so even though I'm booked on the 4:30pm flight, it shouldn't be a problem to walk on to the earlier flight" details. The fact that the early flight was on a smaller, less comfortable Boeing 737 instead of the 4:30 flight's 757 was a sacrifice I was willing to make - yeah, I'm willing to bet I'm the only guy who knew that it was a different kind of plane. Like I said, this isn't amateur hour.

I consulted with Dirty Dave, as always, Friday morning, explaining to him that Continental offered the option to change your flight to the earlier flight on that day for $25. He suggested I just book it, and not worry about it.

"But Dave, we're talking EV here!" I'm always looking to save a unit.

"Friday afternoon to Vegas? Those seats could disappear in a hurry," Dave cautioned with the words of an experienced Sensei, but I decided to roll the dice.

I arrived at Newark airport around 2pm, and as I was walking through security, my phone rang: an automated message from Continental airlines, telling me that the 4:30 flight was now delayed until 7pm. Fuck. Dirty Dave was right again - there was the 3 sigma event that would result in a rush on the 30 open seats on the earlier flight. The problem was, I was too early, there wasn't even anyone at the gate yet.

I took my place 8th in line at the Continental customer service line, staffed by a single agent. Twice I called the 800-number to try to do the transfer on the phone, but I gave up, not wanting to wait 10 minutes on hold, and figuring it would be easier to do in person anyway. 30 minutes later I was "next" in line when the couple behind me got through to customer service on the 800-number, and made the exact switch I was trying to: 4:30 Vegas flight --> 3:20 Vegas flight. I jokingly handed my boarding pass to the woman on the cell phone, and mouthed "change mine too," with a big grin. The guy she was with urged her "yeah - change his too," and then two more people handed her itineraries! She hooked me up, getting my flight changed, while I made small talk with the guy - who told me they were staying at the Imperial Palace, which sent off my Spidey sense: why would two normal looking people from the NYC area be staying at the IP... unless... they were bloggers? I calmly waltzed up to the agent to pick up my new boarding pass, and waited for the couple, offering to buy them a drink.

We cruised over to the airport bar, and, armed with vodka&tonic, rum&coke and gin&tonic, made more Vegas small talk. "We're kinda meeting some people out there," the guy explained, vaguely. "Not the blogger crew - is it?" I was straightforward. Two shocked looks came back my way, as the guy asked "are you going for that too?"

I explained that I wasn't really part of the blogger cool crew, but that I did indeed write a little. The woman exclaimed with a flourish, "Well, meet the Boy Genius!"

"Holy Shit - BG in the flesh? You're the horse racing degenerate!" Thankfully, BG knew to take this as a complement. I extended my hand and explained, "Kid Dynamite, I've read your stuff."

"And may I present Maigrey, the Poker Princess," BG introduced, as she took a mock bow.

"Bobby Bracelet is your real brother right?" I asked, and BG admitted as much reluctantly. He got Bob on the phone, and I finally got to talk to the Legend himself. BB told me that there was actually a solid chance he would be booking a last minute flight to Vegas, but that I had to keep it quiet. I resisted the urge to try to pick off BG with inside information on a prop bet, instead lifting his offer when he let me choose what kind of product the group of salesmen gathered at the table behind us sold: tangible (ie, drugs) or intangible (ie, HR, payroll). I eyed the group of young, coed boozers, and said "intangible." BG went right over to them and got the answer: Payroll! I had him on tilt before we'd even boarded the plane, as I collected on the wager.

After three drinks, I decided I'd check on the status of our newly delayed earlier flight, and found that after pushing it back an hour, they'd re-instated the initial departure time! We scrambled for the gate, and BG flaunted his Elite frequent flier status by waltzing onto the plane, larrying his drink, while I had the presence of mind to bring mine with me.

***

Touching down in Vegas, I bid farewell to BG and Maigrey, and double timed it to the taxi line, prepared for the worst. I called Dirty Dave from the line, and he mocked me, asking "Taxi Tilt yet?" but the line was less than 15 minutes, and I'd located the Big Show in the Wynn poker room before 7:15pm. I dropped my stuff in the room, and repeatedly tried to raise Chops on the cell, but got a "THAT NUMBER IS NO LONGER IN SERVICE" message. The fucker got a new cellphone THAT day, and didn't give me the number. D-ball.

We decided to head over to the Venetian to check out the 8pm tourney which has a fairly decent structure, and attempt to find Chops, as he'd mentioned that he and Snake would likely be there. I did manage to find the dynamic duo, easily identifiable by Snake, a dead ringer for Jared Leto. It was great to finally meet Chops, the legendary Vegas porn producer, and likeminded blogger. Snake isn't nearly as degenerate as he should be, given his rock star looks, stable of Atlanta hookers, and Wicked heritage, but then again, I don't know what I expected from him at a poker tournament. (note: Chops is not, in fact, a porn producer, and Snake may or may not have a stable of Atlanta hookers.)

We ground it out in the 70 person tourney for several hours, before I bowed out in 21st place. Snake held on for 15th, and Big Show bubbled at 11th. After doubling my stack courtesy of a total doucheball in the 2-5NL game, Big Show and I left to go crush the Venetian double deck blackjack game, with Chops still alive and fighting at the final table! By the time Chops stopped by to tell us he'd taken down third place, I was down $304, and we said our goodbyes before heading back to the Wynn to regroup.

Saturday.

Big Show and I hit the Wynn's Terrace Point Cafe for breakfast at around 10:30. A 20 minute wait for an outside table evaporated instantly when I explained to the hostess DYKWTFIA - that she was talking to Kid Dynamite and the Big Show - in the flesh! Cheeseburgers and fries fortified us for a leather ass session in the poker room, and absorbed residual toxins from the night before.

There was a blogger tournament scheduled at Caesar's at 1:30, but as much as I wanted to meet some of the people whose prose I've been reading, I couldn't tear myself away from the 2-5NL games at Wynn and Mirage. We started out at Wynn, and I treaded water in a mediocre game for several hours. Eventually, Big Show and I headed over to the Mirage, where the games were actually softer - I think it's due to the lack of walk in Fish traffic at the Wynn. It's not that the Wynn games were especially tough, just not nearly as juicy as I'd expected - and nothing like the game at the Venetian the prior night, or the Mirage that same day. In a bizarre twist, both Big Show and I managed to get felted in the first orbit of our respective 1-2NL games at the Mirage, which we sat in for less than 15 minutes while waiting for 2-5NL seats.

I played some of my best poker, and had all of the young nits at the table fearing me like the grim reaper. One cockchugger asked the dealer to rabbit hunt a flop, after I'd made a big re-raise and then preflop laydown with QQ, and my opponent showed me KK. The dealer obliged, as I eyed Big Show across the table and tried to figure out if I'd fucked the hand up. As she flipped up a Q high flop, the table erupted, but I was stone cold. I got my revenge the next day, when I played with the same rabbit hunting mother fucker (more on that to come.)

Big Show took a series of beats, and I was unable to make anything exciting happen, so after 8 hours big show made an Orange Chicken run and we recessed to a dinner of Panda Express in the Mirage sportsbook. Big Show and I were dragging a little, but we decided to roam the strip, checking out the legendary Pinegar Twins on the dueling pianos at Harrah's (you know, the twins who both look like weathered Tara Reid?), and observing the action at the outdoor Carnival Bar.

We returned to our old favorite, the IP, but the lack of cellphone service prevented me from bumping into the ample assortment of blogger colleagues who were likely there at that very moment. Big Show and I dropped almost two dimes in less than an hour, and our favorite pit boss Frank offered to buy us breakfast. "No thanks, I don't want to get sick," Big Show replied without missing a beat, and we laughed our way out the door.

Feeling our age, we dragged ourselves back to the Wynn, where I couldn't make it to the room before succumbing to the effects of Panda Express. Big Show hit the room to change, while I annihilated the first stall in the Wynn Shops crapper, and scooped two passes to Lure - the Wynn's "Ultra Lounge" on my way upstairs.

Changed into more presentable gear, we made our way back to Lure, where, before we even had a drink in our hands, we ran into old friends of the Big Show. This group of degenerates was on their way to Tryst - the Wynn's nightclub, and big Saturday night scene. We were invited to tag along, but were mindful of not wanting to fuck up the reservations this crew already had. Somehow, in a feat of pure will, the leader of the group bullied the Wynn club host into letting all FOURTEEN of us in on the same table reservation - and I don't even think he greased the host! The two bottle table for 7 became a table for 11 dudes and 3 girls, and still with only two bottles required! This was almost a positive EV play, as we dodged $30 cover charges!

Lure is pretty insane - a big open club with a giant waterfall in the middle, and wings on both sides of the ensuing pond. As Big Show and I pounded pint glasses of red bull, vodka and cranberry, two young sisters dancing on the banquette made eyes at us. I made a motion like I was throwing up in my mouth, and the sisters suddenly disappeared.

We decided to take a lap around the club, and, swimming our way through the sea of bodies, came across none other than Tiltboy Phil Gordon himself! I grabbed him by the back of his leather jacket, as I shouted at the Big Show - "Holy Shit - PHIL GORDON!" Phil, not quite sober himself, took the assault well, honored that we had recognized him, and extended a hand in thanks. I'd waited so long for this moment, that I blew my shot - I failed to circle him, instead just shaking his hand and continuing through the mob.

In a move of unprecedented Ghetto-tude, the gentlemen occupying the table nearest the dance floor began throwing fistfulls of $1 bills in the air, which threatened to cause a frenzy. Big Show used his height to grab some of the loot, but was embarrassed when he realized they were singles, and there was a serious awkward moment as people came to this realization, each urging the person nearest to them "No, YOU take it."

Thoroughly plastered now, we somehow decided that the Wynn poker room would be a good idea, and sat down in a shorthanded 1-3NL Peach Chip game. I picked up AA on the first orbit and trapped Big Show for 1/3rd of his stack, and somehow managed to avoid giving it back 5 minutes later when I wriggled out of a trap set by a SSS - Sober Sneaky Scandinavian. He flopped a set vs. my top pair, and made a tremendous overbet on the river, attempting to convey a bluff. Somehow, blood alcohol content over .15, I managed to sniff out a problem and muck my hand, and as Big Show got felted yet again, we called it a night.

Sunday.

Big Show got up early to lay down some NFL wagers, as I tried to resist the allure of the trappy road chalk - in this case, Atlanta - 3. Dirty Dave had assured me that it was ok to fall off the wagon to get felted by trappy road chalk in Vegas, but I was not gonna do it this time. Even if I KNEW that ATL and New Orleans were locks today - I had quit NFL gambling. When these two games came through easily, I was, of course, severely tilted.

I called Bobby Bracelet at 9:30 am, as he'd left me a message earlier at 2:30 when he did in fact make it to Vegas. Surprisingly, he was still rolling dice at the IP - an impressive show of endurance.

When Big Show returned, we cleaned up and headed downstairs, veto-ing the poker games at the Wynn, and heading back to the Mirage. We were on the list for a newly starting 2-5NL game, and killed time in the blackjack pit by the poker room, playing face up double deck (booo!) until I got the signal from the poker room that our game was starting.

Again, I couldn't take advantage of the fishy table - suffering some vicious cold decks (flopped flush under flush and managed to lose only 1/2 my stack!) while Big Show continued to run into brick walls. There was only one player at the table who I could beat - the knobgobbler who had asked to rabbit hunt the deck on my QQ vs KK laydown the prior day! I doubled through or felted this dipshit FOUR times, setting a new personal record. When he left, Big Show and I did too, returning to the Wynn to prepare for another big dinner at SW Steakhouse.

Playing Wynn Pai Gow before dinner, we received the ultimate accidental insult from our dealer: "Did you guys just get here? You look fresh." He was attempting a complement I think. I turned to the Big Show: "Holy Shit. We have a serious problem. I cannot BELIEVE he just said that." We were forced to implement the Pai Gow Martingale system to punish the Wynn for it's indiscretion, and took several units out of the game, obviously frequently punctuated by one of us screaming "PAI GOW" at the top of our lungs. Marty up!

After feasting on Kobe strip, and listening to stories from Big Show's friends that were so funny I almost threw up at the table from laughing so hard, we continued to drink hard, and eventually ended up back at the Wynn Black Chip double deck game late night.

I sat down, and managed to lose NINE hands in a row, working myself into a state of unprecedented tilt. On the tenth hand, I had a hard 16 against a dealer 7, and was already standing up to walk away from the table in disgust, when the dealer painted a four on my hand,, and I made a comeback. I doubled up the next hand, and blackjacked the next, and suddenly I was only down a few units! The Wynn doesn't use mechanical shufflers to do the work between shoes in their double deck game, and when a kid hopped in for one hand on the top of the deck in a new shoe, spiked a blackjack, and walked away, I was incredulous.

"What the fuck was that? Top of the deck? He must have shuffle tracked it!" Now, I was joking of course, but this drew an INTENSE amount of heat from the Wynn pit personnel. Two pit bosses came over and casually joked back, "What do YOU know about shuffle tracking?"

"Huh? Who doesn't know about shuffle tracking?"

"About ninety nine point six percent of the population," he replied without a smile.

The Chinese dealer joked in broken English "They from that school - M.I.T."... now, you see, we actually ARE from MIT, a fact I'm sure the Wynn could easily verify, and some of my best friends are blackjack masters from the legendary MIT team. Big Show doesn't even have to mutter "How's the back room in this place" - the heat is on.

Not content to slither away, and impressed by the sudden flurry of activity in the pit behind the table, I raised my voice in the best line of the weekend: "If you're looking for me in Griffin, I have a moustache in that picture!"

The pit manager standing over the table offered me a black magic marker, joking, "Here, hold this up." I promptly felted myself in rapid fashion, and ventured alone to the Pai Gow table.

After being up several hundred in Pai Gow, I pressed my luck and lost a series of multi-unit hands, again finding myself felted, while the Big Show had joined me and was rapidly ascending the prescribed Martingale progression. His $75 bet had become $150, then $300. When he got to $600, he was moderately tilted, threatening to give back his blackjack winnings.

"Marty up! Last night in Vegas!" I urged him, and he pushed two hands at $1200 before finally scooping a pot and breaking even at the Pai Gow table, bellowing what was probably the loudest "PAI GOW" on record at 4am in the history of the Wynn casino.

After a few hours of restless sleep, I woke up, cleaned up, and packed up, making the always depressing Vegas Exit.

final PnL:

Friday:

Venetian Tourney: $-180

Venetian 2-5NL: +$613, 2.5 hours

Venetian double deck: -$304

Saturday:

Wynn 1-3NL: $-23 2 hours

Wynn 2-5NL : $-43 2 hours

Mirage 1-2NL: -200 0 hours

Mirage 2-5NL: +260 6 hours

I.P. double deck: $-750

Wynn Pai Gow: $+495

Wynn 1-3NL late night: $+27 1 hour

Sunday:

Mirage 2-5NL: +$36 5 hours

Wynn double deck: $-1000

Wynn Pai Gown: $-500

grand total: $-2059 playing table games

17.5 hours of poker: +$490

until next time,

KD

Finger Sweep, Dentyne Ice, ATM

The Vegas 2006 December to Remember trip report is imminent - some highlights to whet your appetite:

-meeting BG and Maigrey in Newark airport by accident as we tried to get on an earlier flight after our flight was delayed for several hours, and managing to figure out who they were (I used my powers of deduction after they said they were staying at the IP and I continued to ask leading questions, as I know that no sane people from New York would stay at the IP unless they were meeting the blogger crew). Unfortunately, I didn't hang with any of the rest of the bloggers all weekend.

-Dominating the Venetian Friday night tourney with Big Show and the WickedChops boys - I finished 21st, Snake pulled 15th, Big Show bubbled at 11th, and Chops chopped it up with third place!

-Proving that you can get 14 people (including 11 dudes!) into Tryst on a Saturday night with nothing more than a reserved table and 2 bottle minimum (note: SEVERE persistance required).

-Bumping into a wasted Phil Gordon at 2am at Tryst, but being too drunk myself to have the presence of mind to circle him.

-Implementing the Martingale System at the Wynn Pai Gow tables... and Big Show having to win an $1100 bet to break even (PaiGOW!)

-note to self: do NOT joke about shuffle tracking a the Wynn $100 double deck blackjack tables.

-stacking the same dipshit FOUR times in one session at the Mirage 2-5NL game. He happens to be the same guy who asked the dealer to rabbit hunt the flop on a monster hand the prior day where I layed down QQ vs. KK preflop. The dealer mock-flopped: Q high... I didn't flinch, but got revenge by stacking him 4 times when we played again the next day.

-Aces holding up!

-another VIP dinner at SW steakhouse, and stories that almost made me throw up at the table because I was laughing so hard.

*

*

*

Today, as I related poker hand details to Dirty Dave over IM, he got geared up.

"I'm so psyched to play some NL tonight. I just got the text from the club manager: Game is ON tonight."

"You get the heads up when Chester James shows up?" I was jealous.

"Yeah... wait... I have my girl's Holiday Party tonight... POPOZAU!" He was tilted by the realization.

"Marty up!" I urged him - figuring the Martingale System can solve any problem.

"Double my alcohol intake continuously until I get sent home?" Dirty Dave came up with the solution right away! Marty indeed!

"Awesome! Boot --> Escape --> Rally" I countered.

Now, Dirty Dave is the King because he came back with the perfect plan, succinct and inimitable:

"Finger Sweep, Dentyne Ice, ATM." Either you get it or you don't.

I still can't stop laughing.

until next time,

KD

Vegas Prep

There are varying theories about how to best prepare the body for the sleep deprivation that occurs in Vegas. Now, Dr. Pauly is not an amateur. Not at all. Dr. Pauly is a professional degenerate, but I have to disagree with his sleep theory. Pauly, knowing that all good atheletes must train, suggests depriving the body of sleep, in an attempt to prepare it for the stresses and strains it will face in Vegas.

The Kid Dynamite/Big Show hypothesis, on the other hand, suggests stockpiling sleep, so that your body is well rested and prepared for the assault. As Dirty Dave, junior assistant on the research project put it: "It's like sleep-doping." You pile extra sleep into the body, which the body uses while in its deprived state in Vegas. After all, you wouldn't go for a long training run or 2 dozen beers the night before running a marthon right? Treat Vegas like the marathon - rest up, and be prepared to go balls out.

Speaking of marathons, I'm told there is one this Sunday in Vegas. Although I was once spotted running up and down the strip at 8am on a Sunday morning in Vegas, I will certainly not be running a marathon, 1/2 marathon, or any variation of a marathon. I hear my boy Snake over at Wicked Chops is running the 1/2 marathon on Sunday, but if he thinks that's going to get him out of normal Vegas obligations (ie, hookers and blow), he's going to be very sore come Sunday afternoon. Anyway, I wish him, and any other masochistic fuck who wants to run a marthon in Vegas, good luck.

Hopefully, the collision of Kid Dynamite, Big Show, and the entities that comprise Wicked Chops Poker will result in some stellar-as-always trip reports, but until then, enjoy the musing of Vegas trips past:

2005 Vegas Winter Assault

Jan 2006 Vegas Winter Assault

The Incomparable Six Sigma Sunday

You can find all my past Vegas trip reports in the "posts of fame" section of the sidebar.

until next week,

KD

SNL Tilt

What is the friggin' deal with Jack Black? His Band "Tenacious D" is a joke right? Yet they just played Madison Square Garden! Does anyone have attendance numbers for this show? Did 20,000 people really pack MSG to see Tenacious FUCKING D? I don't know about you, but Jack Black sends me into a TILT frenzy every time I see him. His non-stop schtick is more annoying that Fergalicious, and it's all he ever does!

This weekend, Tenacious D was on Saturday Night Live, and lo and behold, it's like Jack Black's schtick routine with some guitars mixed in. Holy shit - I'd rather listen to a medley of the 3 crappiest songs of all time: PoPoZau, Fergalicious, and Bringin' Sexy Back. I think that says it all.

There was actually a funny moment on SNL this week, when Amy Poehler, during weekend update, was talking about Britney Spears' new panty-less habits, and her lack of pubes too: "I remember the time when a woman's baby garden was the size of a slice of New York City pizza." Good stuff.

Oh - check this shit out: a recent search that this 'blog came up on, courtesy of stats from Statcounter.com: "Ed Hochuli and sexual positions." Wow. Freaky. I don't know which one of you fuckers was trying to find out how the most jacked ref in the NFL likes to hit the hole, but I'm impressed - and surprised that FridayInVegas came up as a result. Go Google.

Vegas is imminent: 5 days and counting.

-KD