Meet me Tonight In Atlantic City

"Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City" - Bruce Springsteen

I haven't been to A.C. since 2000 I think, when I visited the Trop on a Friday night with some friends from work. I remember it vividly because I had tweaked my back so badly that I couldn't take my shoes off - pure, debilitating pain, only mildly eased by the seemingly endless string of pocket aces I encountered in my low limit hold'em session.

Now, all grown up, I was ready to trounce the fish in the 2-5 NL game, but first things first: bankroll. I IM'd Dirty Dave Thursday afternoon, telling him that, like a true pro, I'd already scouted out the Citibank branch locations in the area: NONE.

"Ahhhhh... The essence of the EV hound: Capitalization," Dave responded. Yes... Indeed - nothing worse than being lucky enough to find a six sigma game and not have the bankroll on you to withstand the variance. So I wanted to make sure I was rolling with ample ammunition. Later that afternoon, when I heard one of the locals complain to his buddy that the reason he was waiting for his marker to come through was because he didn't want to be walking around with $4k in his pocket, I decided to just keep my mouth shut. Please... $4k? That's lunch...

Nevertheless, there's still no real easy way to get to A.C., so I had to settle for the bus. Clearly not glamorous, and I took an endless amount of shit from my colleagues at work all day long about who I'd be sitting next to on the bus, but when I got to Port Authority, it was a piece of cake. There were probably 15 people on the whole bus, so I didn't have to crowd in next to some wacked out Asian slot jockey drinking onion juice from a mason jar.

Backing up, I had arrived at Port Authority 30 minutes earlier than the targeted 3:30 bus to the Tropicana. The ticket-takers at the 3pm Greyhound bus to Resorts explained to me, "No, you should wait for the Tropicana bus, so you can get the bonus there." You see, you get a voucher for $20 in free play or free food or some combination thereof, for whatever casino you go to.

"Umm, I think I'll just get on this bus, and then take a cab to the Tropicana from Resorts," after all, I'd get a Resorts bonus anyway on this bus, and I clearly figured to make more than $20 in 30 minutes at the poker table anyway!

The bus ride down was smooth, apart from a woman two rows behind me yapping loudly in Spanish, but the approach to Atlantic City is a real downer. Vegas it is not. While Vegas was engineered and then rebuilt with visual perfection in mind, all of Atlantic City seems to be like Caesar's Palace: a melange of shit thrown together and built upon, constantly added to, never done right. It just looks depressing. I elected to not wait the extra 30 seconds on the bus to receive my Resorts bonus, instead choosing to get my ass to the Tropicana ASAP. Passing up such a freeroll is a violation of all my gambling ethics, but I knew they were trying to pull the old "deal him a hand where he has to split 8's or something else to make him dig into his pocket for the extra bet" maneuver. You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to trap Kid Dynamite with that crap.

Exiting into the Resorts bus area was pure depression. I had been clinging to the hope that I'd appreciate Resorts, the original A.C. casino, and see some old school nostalgia, but all I saw were old school old folks, done pumping their $20 in nickels into the slots, lifelessly waiting for their buses back to The Home. I ran like a crazed rat in a maze trying to find a cab out of this dump, eventually hailing some off duty guy from a side street.

This cabbie was an old white guy, writing on a sign in his lap like the one a begger would hold. I craned my neck to read his masterpiece: "Wanted: washed up crack whore. Retarted children ok. Black girls welcome," was all I could see, as he covered up his work, but I liked this guy already. The cab ride was only about a mile, but fuckin'A the A.C. cabs are expensive: the meter starts at $2.90, and seems to tick $.20 every 5 seconds. I later noticed that the catch is that there is an $11 maximum, which basically means almost any ride will cost you $11.

I stroll up to the front desk at the newly (2 years ago) renovated Tropicana, and hand my i.d. and credit card to Magdelena, the desk clerk. "Vhat kind of vrooom vooold you like?" She asks me, in a Russian accent. "Non-smoking, king bed," duh.. Do you know who the fuck I am? I'm surprised that she apparently DOES know who I am, as, after punching the keyboard for 3 full minutes, she calls the manager over to help her find "something high," which, in Tropicana parlance, means a room in their new Havana Tower.

Magdelena hooks me up with the Havana Tower upgrade, and I'm thinking "FREEEEEEEEEROLLLL" as I take the elevator up to the 54th floor to find a perfectly nice room with a fantastic view of the sprawl that is A.C., including all the casinos, the new Borgata, and the ocean.

I quickly change into my standard poker room gear: Red Sox hat, hooded World Series Champion Sweatshirt, card capper, bankroll: Let's roll. I hit the poker room, and find an open seat in 2-5NL, $500 max buy in. The game was pretty boring: there were about 6 locals who were rocky, and a few local young guns were later mixed in. The youngsters could mix it up, and had the potential to bluff you off a hand, but it usually wasn't hard to figure out where you stood in a hand against them: they tended to play too tight, especially coming from the game I'm used to in the city.

A super tight old lady local made a comment when I followed up a $20 preflop re-raise with and $80 pot sized flop bet, saying "You have nothing - that bet screams of weakness." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? Do all of my pot sized bets scream of weakness? Don't I always bet the pot?" "No, you sure don't," She told me, and I made a mental note to be sure to hammer any pot I was in with her, as she interpreted my larger bets as weaker hands. Unfortunately, I didn't get the opportunity to play a big pot against her, so I resorted to showing her my hammer - I mean, The Hammer.

I made it $15 with the 7d 2d and got called 4 times. The 5-6-8 two diamond flop hit me about as hard as it could, and I bet out $45. Everyone folded, and I shook my head and tossed my hand faceup, "Best hand I guess," I shrugged, as I could see the locals seethe. Next orbit I raised again out of position, this time with AdKd.

When the flop came with 3 rags, I bet the pot into my grinder local opponent, explaining "I don't have deuce-seven of diamonds," and he shook his head and mucked A-K faceup, complaining "I can never hit a flop." Now this would have been the perfect time to evaluate my implied tilt odds by tabling my own hand faceup, and explaining, "No, I just play it better than you do," but I decided it would be easier to win at this table if I used the license to steal pots, rather than inciting the locals to play back at me - in which case I would have to make real hands.

The one enigma at the table, a loose cannon Ghetto Basher who seemed to bet with impunity but was very difficult to read put a series of beats on me when he proved I wouldn't be able to push him out of pots. I decided I'd have to make a hand.

When he called a raise I made from the cutoff with AhJh, I was ready to take another crack at him on the JsTsTc flop. He bet out $25, and I smooth called.

The turn was the 9c, and he bet out again. $45. Hmmm... I smooth called again.

The river was a card that didn't really help me: the Ace of diamonds, giving me two pair, but I was either already way ahead or drawing to a jack. GhettoBasher bets $70 into me, and I shake my head, realizing that seemingly pretty ace didn't help me, before I call. He tables 3s4s sheepishly, and I rake the pot.

In the only other partly interesting hand from the night, GB raised to $25 UTG, and one of the YoungGuns called, before I re-popped it to $125 from the cutoff with AcKc. GB stared me down. I stared back at him. Bring it on, Muthafucka. He mucks. YoungGun seems anguished. "You have aces or kings?" he asks me. I ignore him. He's talking to himself out loud. I look him right in the eye, a look that conveys one message: "Do...you...know...who...the...fuck...I...am...?"

He mucks QQ faceup (I told you they were tight! smooth call then fold with QQ here?!?!) as I tell him "Excellent laydown."

I end the 5 hour session up only $136, and promptly give back a quarter of that at JakesDogHouse, the specialty dog store the have there for some reason (I guess for people like me who miss their pets!) buying things for Oscar: a sleek Patriots doggy hat, and a soft chewey bone that squeaks and rattled.

stay tuned for part II of the trip report to come...

-KD

Customer Service, and the Opposite...

First the customer service: (quoted from Cardplayer.com):

On Sunday evening, PokerStars.com held a $215 “second-chance” World Series of Poker multi-table satellite for those who may have taken an early exit from the huge qualifier held the same day, which attracted 7,377.

The second-chance tourney didn’t attract nearly that many people to the evening tournament, but still generated enough of a prize-pool to send another 21 players to the WSOP main event.

So imagine the players’ frustration when, with 25 people left, PokerStars.com’s site went down for almost an hour, the first time that Lee Jones, the site’s poker room manager, can remember that happening in more than a year, he says.

But the wait would be worth it for all the players, especially the short stacks who were facing elimination before the outage. When the site came back online, the people at PokerStars.com decided the right thing to do would be to award all 25 remaining players a $12,000 WSOP prize package.

And the other side of the coin: (also from CardPlayer.Com)

A group of seven poker pros (Howard Lederer, Annie Duke, Andy Bloch, Phil Gordon, and past World Series of Poker champions Chris Ferguson, Greg Raymer, and Joe Hachem) have filed an antitrust lawsuit against World Poker Tour Enterprises, claiming that WPTE violates antitrust laws with the release form they require all players to sign, which allows WPT to use any players likeness in any way they choose.

Now this isn't a case of a bunch of whiney pros bitching about how these companies are making money off of them - they have a very legitimate gripe (each of the players involved already has a contract with a different company guaranteeing that company the exclusive use of their names and images). Read the article.

“This is about the control of your own name and likeness and in poker that’s all we have,” Lederer said. “You could find yourself endorsing products you don’t believe in. I should be able to make that decision. I don’t want the WPT deciding for me.”

Well, the WPT is a made for TV product, so Howard's point can't be taken to the extreme where each player has to agree to each camera shot used - but I certainly don't think WPT should be able to use Lederer's image to endorse products without his permission.

“I’ve been trying very hard to get a fair release,” Ferguson said. “Sometimes this release conflicts with deals you already have.”

-KD

Where the Sand Turns to Gold

Worm: You know what always cheers me up?

Mikey Mc D: No, what's that?

Worm: Rolled up aces over kings. Check-raising stupid tourists and taking huge pots off of them. Playing all-night high-limit Hold'em at the Taj, "where the sand turns to gold." Stacks and towers of checks I can't even see over.

Mikey Mc D: Fuck it, let's go.

Worm: Don't tease me.

Mikey Mc D: Let's play some cards.

I couldn't take it anymore, and for some reason couldn't put together a Vegas trip, but Atlantic City was the undeniable force. After a week of complaining about hotel room prices and lack of poker room rates for unrated players, I decided to take Friday off and book Thursday and Friday night at the Trop in A.C.

Of course, as soon as I told Eric I'd booked it, he told me he could no longer make it, which left me with two choices: a) play poker in the city, where the Friday game is usually weak and ends early, or b) go solo to A.C.

I hit up the Vortex and asked him his advice: "What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

"Go to A.C. and play poker for 48 straight hours, getting up only to go to the bathroom."

Excellent advice, and as an added bonus, Vortex himself will be there Friday night, and I'll try to crash his beach house on Saturday.

I haven't been to A.C. in 5+ years, so if anyone has any advice on where to play no limit hold'em (1-2NL or 2-5NL or something like that) - I'm looking for the best game that doesn't cap stack sizes at something too small (ie, 2-5NL $250 max buy-in is retarded).

And if anyone will be in A.C. Thursday or Friday, let me know.

until then,
KD

Poker, Booze and Memories

PokerStars and FullTiltPoker each had a big WSOP Main Event satellite yesterday. Pokerstars' 150 seat guarantee ended up drawing a staggering 7377 players at $370 each, which resulted in an incredible 234 Main Event packages ($12k value). Fulltilt's 100 seat guarantee attracted 3050 players at $535 each, which was good for 127 Main Event packages ($12k value). Unfortunately, I didn't play in either of these satellites.

Last Friday night me and Dan drank heavily in preparation for the dual-billed Bob Weir & Rat Dog with String Cheese Incident show at Radio City Music hall. When we arrived, as Weir was already blazing into Casey Jones, we proceeded to abolish any trace of sobriety either of us had a whiff of. I've never been a big Dead-head, although I am a fan of many of the jam band era torch carriers: Phish, String Cheese Incident, Deep Banana Blackout, etc. Although I had definitely come to see String Cheese, I thoroughly enjoyed Weir's set. Radio City is without a doubt the best mid-capacity venue I've ever been to. The concourse area is unrivalled, and the interior is incredible: wide open and immaculate.

For some reason, although alcohol (I was drinking various machinations of vodka) is a short term memory eraser, I find it to be a long term memory enhancer. As Weir jammed into Sugaree, I had a flash memory of my mom dancing to the song and singing along. I drunk dialed Mom, who got the false impression that my life is much more glamorous than it seems, and that this concert is a much bigger deal than it actually is. Some random drunk dude walking by wanted to talk to her, so I handed him my cell phone in true jam band spirit and laughed as I imagined my mom on the other end of the line wondering what the fuck was going on.

I called my boy Leeroy, as I knew he'd rather be at the show than up in Boston with his girlfriend, but he didn't answer. When Weir ripped into my alltime favorite Dead song, Throwing Stones, I had a flashback to 1993, when I first heard the song in my best friend Greeny's Toyota 4-runner. "Remember that fucked up compass that showed the horizontal balance level of the car?" I called him and asked him, "That was completely useless, but that's what I think about when I hear this song - 1993 in the red Toyota 4-runner, cruising around Needham." Greeny appreciated the memory and laughed, as I jammy-danced around Radio City.

When Weir's set ended, and a group of 4 kids sat down behind us, looking like they couldn't have been a day over 16 at MOST, and took out their barrage of mind altering substances, I immediately thought of my boy Ara, and hit him up on the cell. Ara is my one friend who has a huge penchant for exaggeration, yet at the same time, any story he tells you is likely to be completely true. I remember a party at his apartment on Pratt Street when we were both in college in Boston. It was New Years Eve 1996, and every time I get the spins (you know - where the room starts spinning when you close your eyes?) from drinking too much I'm instantly transported back to the floor of Ara's bedroom, where I had passed out with a vicious, yet thoroughly enjoyable case of the spins. Back in 1996, the spins meant I was drunk - in 2006 the spins mean I better think carefully about how I'm going to avoid puking. So on NYE 1996, Ara comes into the bedroom at 4am, ranting about a brawl and a fight and blabbering like he was under the influence of a plethora of class D substances. Knowing he's one to stretch the truth, I stirred briefly from my alcohol coma, and told him "yeah, uh huh, sure... ok. see you in the morning."

When I woke up in the morning, Ara took me out into the snow covered street, and my jaw dropped as I saw crimson blood stains paving the way. "What the fuck happened?" I asked him. "I told you. Some kid tried to steal a handle of my gin. So we threw down." "What? Are you fucking crazy? The street is covered with blood!" Ara grinned, and laughed: "I told you my roommates and I are not to be messed with." Basically, it was the original "Do you know who the fuck I am?" moment, and every time I drink till the room spins it comes back to me like yesterday.

Anyway, all of this happened before String Cheese Incident even took the stage and whipped Radio City into a frenzy of awkwardly dancing young white kids on mind-altering drugs. I'd write more about SCI's set, but to be honest, it was all a blur, ending with a perfectly Floyd-esque "Shine on You Crazy Diamond," dedicated to Pink Floyd founder Syd Barrett. For just one night I felt like Dr. Pauly.

good times...

-KD

You Gotta Fight...For Your Right....

As one of my online poker pro friends put it, "read this, and then go here."

So today, thanks to a BusinessWeek.Com article quoting none other than "Mr. Dynamite," I generated a record number of hits. Alas, it's somewhat unfortunate that I was unprepared for this deluge, which swamped even the referrals from WickedChops after the stellar Blogfiles interview. I would have loved to have had a quality post up, like Wesson Girl, or Six Sigma Sunday.

In fact, the issue at hand is immensely important. The US House has passed the bill prohibiting internet gambling. Of course there are the perfectly hypocritical carveouts for horse racing, where the politicians have political and financial interests. If these doucheballs had any fucking clue how much money they could make by taxing online poker ($4.3 BILLION annually, according to the PokerPlayersAlliance), there'd be no excuse for them to pass such a contradictory bill - there's no excuse as it is! From what I hear, the bill will have significant problems being signed into law by the Senate, whose constituents tend to actually think about what the fuck they are doing when they debate such bills.

I am clearly in favor of legalizing online poker, but I am against online casino gambling: online slots, online blackjack, online roulette, etc. These games of chance are pure negative EV, and a guarantee that all participants will lose in the long run. So am I against casinos? Of course not - the difference is that with online gambling the "access = addiction" argument comes into play. I do not believe we should facilitate a way for users to be able to be guaranteed to lose their money online, and for problem gamblers to feed their addiction.

On the other hand, how can I be in favor of online poker? It's a game of skill - but does the "access = addiction" argument still apply? I don't think I'm being hypocritical when I say "no." When I read a 10 page New York Times online article about a college kid who blows his tuition on online poker, and then ends up robbing a bank to pay back his debts, I don't think it's the same as if the kid were playing blackjack. Poker is a game of skill. The fish can take the time to learn and study the game. That's a fact. It's not easy, and there won't always be a point in time where anyone can become a winning player, but the fact is, if you're blowing through all the money you can get your hands on playing poker online, YOU have some responsibility that goes BEYOND addiction. You can't just say, "Hey, they gave me access - they fed my addiction." With online poker, I don't buy that excuse. I guess the most important point is that you can be addicted to online poker and still be a winning player in the long run - that's not true in blackjack and the other casino games. The problem in poker isn't the addiction - the problem is improper play, or maybe false illusions of poker playing ability.

Look, I know firsthand how easy it is to donk off all of your chips online. There's a disconnect with reality - you're not pushing money, you're not even pushing chips - you're pushing buttons. Clicking a mouse. Watching digital animations float across the screen. It's like a video game, and It's very easy to lose track of the reality of "I just called a pot sized river bet with ace high, and I know I'm losing" Perhaps the most important skill in online poker is the ability to keep your composure and not go on TILT. My friends who make their living online say this, and I'd guess that top pro (and noted online addict) Mike "The Mouth" Matusow would say the same thing. Mouth is a great example - he's acknowledged publicly that he's addicted to online poker, and has a problem with it. That doesn't mean it should be banned - it means he needs to work on his problem and address it - which he's doing. Mike Matusow does not play his best poker game online, and that's why he loses. When he's playing his best poker game, be it online or in a card room, he's a winner. Online poker is not the problem.

So, fight for your right to play poker online, or I won't be able to maintain the high standard of living to which Oscar has become accustomed...

Until next time,
KD

Blah Blah Blah

Zinedane Zidane blah blah blah. Materazzi blah blah. We all know about the headbut, but what a lot of people don't realize is that Zidane has this kind of mean streak - he's not quite Rooney-esque, but he'll mix it up. In any case, there's no excuse for his behavior, even if Materazzi called his mother a terrorist, which Materazzi denies. My favorite quote is from Zidane, as told by Materazzi:

"I held his shirt for a few seconds only, then he turned round and spoke to me, sneering," the Italian defender told the newspaper. "He looked me up and down, arrogantly and said: 'If you really want my shirt, I'll give it to you afterwards.'"

So watching the World Cup Final was kind of a lose-lose situation; I am really not a fan of Italian soccer, on account of their dramatized dives and defensive oriented play. On the other hand, although I like Thierry Henry (despite his own ridiculous dives) and Zidane, I really can't think of a situation where I would ever cheer for France. I mean come on - for Fuck's sake - it's fuckin' France.

I found myself on my street corner, where there is a French Bistro and an Italian restaurant directly across the street from one another. There was a plethora of people pouring out into the street outside of each place, with open air, perfect weather, and multiple TV's. I started out at the Italian place, I Tre Merli, enjoying their plasma screen tuned to the Spanish broadcast.

I later joined my friend Rony across the street at Les Deux Gamins, where I quickly came to the conclusion: "I guess I'm cheering for a power outage in Germany. Is it possible for no one to win?"

Still, the atmosphere was tremendous - with groans of anticipation and relief trading back and forth between the two places as shots were fired and attacks denied. Deciding the world's most important sporting event by something as arbitrary as penalty kicks is a complete travesty - as overtimes progress, they should remove players from each team, first 9v9, then 7v7 after 15 minutes, until someone scored. Anything but the arbitrary pk's.

As Italy clinched the Cup, I Tre Merli erupted, as the French sulked across the street. Good sports that they were, several of the French fans came over and doused the Italians with their celebratory Champagne which was now for naught, as the Italians sipped Prosecca (that's Italian for "Champagne" - I think).

Overall, I'd give this World Cup a solid C+/B-. The games pretty much sucked, but at least they were on at relatively normal hours, as long as you had access to a TV at work. FIFA has a lot of work to do cleaning up the dives that seem to have taken over the game.

until next time,

KD

Futbol Quick Hits

A few quick bits of soccer humor for you:

This satire of the Italian National Team's training session is well done.

And I absolutely love this "Rooney gets revenge" clip. The cutout faces, Christiano Ronaldo's text message to Rooney, Ronaldo's stepovers, and Rooney's vocals ("take that Ronaldo, you cheating twat!")... Great stuff.

-KD

Vegas Baby?

I lay awake this morning at 2am dreaming about poker... Raising from the cutoff with 4d5d. Bluffing the river in the Wynn peach chip game, simply OWNING the game. Young made-for-tv superstars coming over the top of my AA preflop. Rope-a-doping the local wannabe pros in the Mirage 2-5NL game with a dizzying mixture of passive-aggressive play. Six Sigmas at the Mirage. Hitting the IP late night for some ridiculously drunk double deck blackjack where we STILL had a remnance of an edge on the count. Getting thrown out of the Frontier for working a 1-15 bet spread in their super deep penetration double deck game.

I emailed Eric this morning, telling him I was ready to book the trip, just give me the go ahead. I'd scouted planefares and hotel rates already, and I was confident that there were stacks and towers of checks worth of dead money awaiting us all over the strip. Alas, it wasn't meant to be, as E-dub couldn't make it next weekend. Instead, I'll hit up String Cheese Incident at Radio City on Friday night, and perhaps A.C. the weekend after. Vegas is imminent in August. An unavoidable collision course.

-KD

Smorgasborg

Props to goalkeepers Jens Lehmann of Germany, and Ricardo of Portugal for coming up with multiple huge saves in each of their respective penalty shootouts to send their teams on to the semi-finals. Lehmann's final save led to the call of the weak from the Spanish announcer crew: "JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS JENS LEHHHHHHHHHHHMMMANNNNNNNN."

While England failed to show up for the entire tournament, and was justly eliminated by Portugal (side question: why the fuck is Beckham wearing long sleeves if he was complaining about the heat?), France finally played up to their caliber, and absolutely dominated Brazil. Even Ronaldo's utterly embarrassing dive near the top of the penalty box as time wound down (which was actually called by the ref, and earned France a yellow card) wasn't enough to save Samba-land. Those of you who don't know France's striker, Thierry Henry, should take the time to look up some of his highlights. He's a perennial goal producer for Arsenal in the English Premier League, and is one of the top few strikers in the world.

On Saturday night, we visited NYC icon, Katz's Deli. Katz's is in a league of its own - not only for their completely unparalleled pastrami, which I can best describe as "RIDICULOUS," but also for their old school nostalgia. Everyone entering the big, cafeteria-like deli takes a little ticket, almost like you get when you go into a parking garage. When you go up to the counter to order, you give the carver your ticket, and he writes the price on it (about $14 for a pastrami on rye). He also gives you a little taste of pastrami while he makes your sandwich, hand carving the freshly steamed pastrami. If you respond by throwing a few bucks into his tip cup, you get a nicely stuffed treasure which quite literally dissolves in your mouth. (wow, that sounded kinda obscene - I was talking about the pastrami.

In poker news, Danny Negreanu finally got under Mike "the Mouth" Matusow's skin on High Stakes Poker, when Danny mocked The Mouth for having to borrow money to play in the game. After Mouth paid off a river value bet from amateur Fred Chamanara, Negreanu needled further, mockingly reading a glossary definition from a book Phil Laak slid across the table to him: "Payoff Wizard: Someone who calls bets on the river when they are losing. P.O.W." Laak chimed in, "Page 158 Mikey." Great stuff.

Oh - and there was a hand where Mouth and Sammy Farha got all in, in a situation where neither of them really wanted to be all-in (Mouth came over the top of Sammy with middle pair, and Sammy insta-called with his flush draw.) Before the players saw each other's cards, they not only agreed to run it twice, but also "saved" most of the final re-raise: meaning they decided to just play for what was already in the middle. This is a total fucking joke, and both players should be embarrassed... There is no crying in baseball, and there are no takebacks in poker... Ridiculous.

In MORE IMPORTANT POKER NEWS, my boy Eric "E-dub" Lindauer was featured in TheSportsman.Com's Online Kings writeup. Of course, I was furious when I read the article "When a friend gave him a copy of David Sklansky's classic text..." You see, that "friend" was none other than Kid Dynamite! Eric and his wife and baby boy showed up unannounced at my apartment Sunday morning, and I immediately challenged him to a series of heads up freezeouts to punish him for failing to give me credit for teaching him everything he knows. I planned to thrash him in the style of sensei-student / master-pupil, even though he's like a friggin' learning computer, and probably one of the best in the world (yes, I mean that) when it comes to poker math and theory.

I dispatched Eric in our pot-limit hold'em freezeout, and quickly throttled him in pot-limit omaha. I then took pity on him and let him choose limit hold'em for the next freezeout. Now, Eric is a limit hold'em master, and well, I am a no-limit assassin now, so I figured to be a huge dog here. After E-dub cold-decked me early when he turned a gutshot straight draw vs. my top two pair, I fought back valiantly, from a 3-1 chip deficit to a 3-1 chip lead. Even though our starting stacks were only 25 big bets, we played for a solid 90 minutes, before finally agreeing to a draw. I took it as the highest compliment when Eric told me, "I don't feel like I have a very big edge against you."

If you're interesting in improving your poker skills, Eric offers poker coaching. Contact him at e_lindauer at Yahoo to discuss the plans he offers - you cannot help but become a better player when you deal with him. You can also visit his website. If you tell him Kid Dynamite sent you he'll give you 10% off.

A big time BBQ is imminent, happy Independence Day to everyone.

-KD

Carpet Muncher

My dog Oscar is a carpet muncher... No - it's probably not what you think, he ACTUALLY eats carpets! It's a new habit - he chomps on the edges until they shred. I caught him in the act yesterday, and made a shocked sound - he looked at me with guilty eyes and took two steps back, then lay down, and rolled over on his back... Can't stay mad at the little guy.

The World Series of Poker is underway. Cardplayer.com will have full coverage details, and I'm counting on the boys at WickedChops for quality summaries.

I'm a big soccer fan, and I think the World Cup is one of the best sporting events out there, but this year's games have kinda sucked. I remember the 1994 World Cup for it's fast paced, wide open, full throttle play, and 1998 was the same way. The 2006 World Cup seems to be classified by the return of the exaggerated dive that made Americans hate soccer players in the first place. I never learned the "go down like you got shot by a bb gun in the hamstring" maneuver that almost ALL teams now seem to use as a staple - I always tried to stay on my feet when I got hit. Whereas in the old days we could count on a few dramatic Latin teams to take dives every time a player came near them, now it seems almost standard.

Sunday's Portugal - Netherlands game was one of the great all time games, featuring a record number of yellow cards. People are SHREDDING the ref for losing control of the game, but if you watched the game (and I sympathize, as a former official) - the game started to get rough, and he did exactly what he was supposed to do to try to TAKE control: he started handing out yellow cards the way I hand out stacks of chips when I have A-Q (which is to say, liberally.) Unfortunately, the players decided to completely ignore him, and continued to take cheap shots at one another. The ref was actually later quoted as saying something to the tune of how he was actually surprised that the Dutch players played so dirty, while he expected it from Portugal.

The highlight of the game came when Holland violated a classic piece of soccer etiquette: a Portuguese player was hurt on the field, so Portugal played the ball out of bounds. When play resumes, the accepted play is for Holland to take the ball and kick it back to the Portuguese side. However, the Dutch player with the ball, I think it was Van Persie, decided to dribble it up the field instead, as several Portuguese players watched in awe. A Portuguese midfielder took matters into his own hands (a la Kid Dynamite 1996 style) and crushed Van Persie from behind, earning a yellow card. The next time Van Persie got the ball, he was mauled again by another Portuguese defender. I think he got the point.

The quarterfinals will hopefully provide some incredible games, as all 8 teams are top notch. England has sucked thus far, and will be facing a depleted Portugal team that has given them a hard time lately in international play. France finally woke up and played decently against Spain, but will have a tough time with Brazil. Argentina-Germany figures to be a tremendous game, and I like Ukraine over the always over-dramatic Italians.

until next time,

KD

The Perfect Weapon

In college, I worked a few summers as a host and food runner at Legal Sea Foods in Chestnut Hill, MA. We'd get our share of "celebrities" - "The Human Highlight Reel" Dominique Wilkins, Mike Greenwell (yeah baby - Red Sox superstar for a very short time), former Celtic non-legend Eric Montross, and former Celtic legit-legend Robert "The Chief" Parish. I'll never forget the look on the old yenta's faces when Chief walked out of the dining room late Friday night, his head skimming the light fixtures - let's just say that there aren't a plethora of seven foot tall black men in Chestnut Hill. But the greatest story by far was

The Day Jeff Speakman Came to Town

It was a weekday at lunch - prime time for the restaurant, and we had an hour long wait for a table. I was using my charm, along with the similar skills of Josh, the other host, to pacify the throngs of fish-hungry patrons eager to sit. Suddenly, a woman comes up to our host stand, with full confidence, and explains, "I have Jeff Speakman in the car." Now you have to understand, Josh, myself, and Dave the Bartender are probably the only three people in the entire town who knew who Jeff Speakman was, but this woman, his agent, was acting like he was Tom Fuckin' Cruise or something.

We both reply in unison, "THE PERFECT WEAPON?"

She nods.

"Bring him in!" We declare, with no hesitation.

"Hey Dave," - I shout over to the bar - "Jeff Speakman is coming in!"

"THE PERFECT WEAPON?" Dave is down with it. We are laughing hysterically, realizing the irony of all three of us knowing this "star."

Speakman walks in, with another guy (sadly, NOT Michael Dudikoff, The American Ninja), and his agent, and we seat them in a table near the window. He has a head the size of a pumpkin - and hands like bear paws. Biggest friggin' head I've ever seen. His agent knows we're fans, since, well, we know who he is, and gives us business cards, telling us, "call me, I'll send you an autographed picture." I carried that business card in my wallet for at least 4 years, but I never did call.

Speakman's crew needed directions to the airport, and I got to go over and talk to him, drawing him a map on the back of the Legal Seafood placemat. Ahhh.. the good old days...

I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman on the street outside my apartment today - but even a brush with a Best Actor Oscar winner was nothing compared to the day The Perfect Weapon came to town.

-KD

Quotable

"I'll put the fuckin' straddle on you pussy" - Mike "The Mouth" Matusow on High Stakes Poker.

"There are no asterisks in this life, only scoreboards, and ours is currently reading: FUCKED." Ari the Agent on Entourage.

Play of the Week: Antonio "The Magician" Esfandiari, after getting all-in preflop with AA vs Sammy fairways A-9, watches the board come K-J-x-Q-T for a split pot. Instead of getting mad that this is at least the third time he hasn't won with aces in this game (at least he didn't get stacked this time), Antonio goes over to the two hired blondes at the bar to show them his chip tricks. He does the brilliant "rising chip" move, and the best part is the reaction of the girls: the one he's chasing hardest has the "oooohh, you are such a stud," face, while the other has the "Rocks'n'Rings are such a bunch of fuckin' tools, I can't believe you think girls like that crap," face. Antonio has the "I can't win with aces, but I can get laid at will with my magic skills and international exotic looks" face. After all, he can, and I quote directly from his website: "Mesmerize the gals with his gaze." No bullshit. I did not make that up.

until next time,
KD

Dog Whisperer

So do you want to know how friggin' awesome Oscar is? First of all, on Mother's Day, I took him for a walk early in the morning, and on the way he stopped to pick up a flower, stem and all, that was lying on the ground. He carried it home for Mrs. Dynamite! UN-REAL! He never carries stuff that he finds on the street, but he clearly is a genius. Then, after he chewed up my headphones a month ago, Mrs. Dynamite asked him "Oscar, what are you going to get {Kid Dynamite} for Father's Day?" (Nevermind that we call me "dad" and her "mom" - you KNOW he's our baby!). Oscar runs over to the night table where my headphones are, and picks them up! We'll get him new headphones! S-T-U-D. That's my boy.

He also peed on a guy's leg at my mom's retirement party this weekend. Alpha-dog cannot be denied.

-KD

Blogger Championship

Alas, I was unable to defend my 14th place finish in the World Blogger Championship of Online Poker (Freeroll, courtesy of PokerStars). I was cruising along, with about $4200 in chips, 40% above average, when I was moved to a new table, where 6 of the nine players were sitting out! problem was, one of the two other players had $22k in chips, and would NOT get out of my way! I actually managed to get stacked on a table with 6 hands worth of dead blinds! Un-fuckin-real. What should have been the perfect opportunity to steal free blinds became a nightmare when the big stack got in my way... and smooth called me... then check-raised me: 4 times. Fuck.

until next time,
KD

Awards

World Cup Celebration of the Day: Ecuador's Ivan Kaviedes, who pulled a bright yellow SpiderMan lucha-libre mask out of his shorts and donned it after scoring his team's third goal in the 90th minute. I did a little research, and it seems the celebration was a tribute to their late striker, Otilino Tenorio, who died last year in a car crash. Good stuff.

World Cup Play by Play Call of the Day: GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL de Suecia! After Sweden's Freddy Ljundberg scored the game winner in the 89th minute. Pioneered by Andres Cantor, and imitated by millions around the world. It never gets old.

Douche-ball Poker Play of the Week that Worked out Better Than Anyone Possibly Could Have Hoped: Danny Alai in High Stakes Poker. $100 antes, $300-$600 limits, with a $1200 straddle. Fred "dead money" Chammanara limps with A-7 suited. Danny Alai limps in the small blind with K-K! Huh? Limp-re-raises rarely work from the small blind Danny, and to make matters worse, Sammy Farha was the big blind - do you really want to play this pot out of position against Sammy and Fred, when Sammy will call the straddle with any two cards? But lo and behold, Sammy raises $5k more. As if Danny couldn't walk into any more luck, Fred re-raises all in for about $15k! Danny now pops it, Sammy folds, and Danny stacks Fred. I still hate how he played it.

And if anyone is wondering what doucheball means, it's the new douchebag. You heard it hear first.

until next time,
KD

Are You Ready for Some Futbol?

World Cup Fever is here. Walking home today, I saw people gathered outside a local cafe, 2 deep into the street. Hmmm - I wonder what they're filming in there that's attracting such a crowd - then I realized it was just spectators for the Brazil-Croatia game. Kaka scored the game winner, earning the "Best Name of a Goal Scorer Thus Far" award. This morning, the small island nation of Togo (which I could not find on a map if you offered me $50 million), earned the "Best Celebration After a Goal" award by doing something that looked like a cross between a cowboy jerking a horse's reigns, a begging puppy, and a hopping bunny. Good stuff.

I've had a recurring dream for the past 10 years or so that I have a big final coming up for which I'm completely unprepared. In my college days, this dream caused serious angst, and as the years went by, the panic slowly subsided, replaced by a sort of "hah- it was just a dream" relief. I had the dream again last night, but didn't even remember it until I walked down into the subway this morning. I also have a recurring dream that I'm playing big bet poker and my cards change on the river. In the wild game I played in last week, this actually happened to one of the players - on the river, his opponent announced "straight," and he claimed "flush" as he turned his cards over to scoop a $2,000 pot. The only problem was he didn't have a flush - he'd misread his hand. Oops.

Today Oscar and I went to the "Small Dog Run" at Washington Square Park. In this little area for dogs smaller than 25lbs, Oscar is one of the bigger dogs there, and seems to enjoy himself more. He did something new today: he tried to pee on a girl wearing a sundress. She was paying attention, and dodged it, but 3 minutes later he tried to pee on another woman! Whoa boy - easy! After luring everyone into a false sense of pee-free security 25 minutes later, Oscar returned to his first target, who was staring off into space, and unleashed a stream right on both of her ankles. I watched in horror/amusement from across the run, and my wide eyes darted to hers: she didn't notice! After a few seconds, it hit her, and she looked down, mouth agape, as my hand flew to my mouth to surpress my laughter. I apologized, but wasn't about to offer her my t-shirt to wipe off Oscar's assault. Oscar is clearly staking his claim to everything within this dog run.

On the way home we met a woman with a tiny black Chihuahua. "This is Lil' Negger," she introduced him. Whaaatttttt? I looked at Mrs. Dynamite. Mrs. Dynamite looked at me. L-I-L N-E-G-G-E-R? She mouthed to me, confirming. I shrugged. In New York City you really can't be surprised by anything anymore.

Until next time,
KD

$300 Bad Beat Umbrella

I woke up at 2am and realized I'd left my umbrella at the poker club. Fuck. Insta-TILT sets in, as I lie awake sweating. I just won $260, but I'm fucking furious that I forgot my umbrella, even after asking the guy next to me to remind me to grab it on my way out... Oh well, I'll just stop by on the way home from work to play a little and pick it up. Yes - like a well crafted sitcom, you KNOW where this is going...

No one likes to hear bad beat stories, so I'll save you the gory details, but suffice it to say that it cost me $300 to get my umbrella back, and one Friday Afternoon Tilt Inducing beat in a $700 pot.

And it didn't even rain.

Aiyahhh!

Here's a further analysis/discussion of the most interesting hand I played (LIKE A TOTAL PUSSY) last night: I was UTG + 1. UTG limped, and I raised to $10 with A-K. I had $750 in my stack, and was the shortest stack at the table.

Dave, a maniac, re-raised to $55 - ok great. However, Joe, immediately to Dave's left, min-re-re-raised to $110. Hmmm.. I've played several hours with Joe, and haven't known him to get out of line. I get a seriously bad feeling about his hand here. Mandy in the BB cold calls the $110, and Mark, the limper, calls as well. It's back to me, the initial raiser, in the middle of the action, with Dave still to act behind me.

I hated Joe's re-re-raise, so I considered folding. However, this game is probably way WAY too loose for me to muck A-K there. I thought "Hey KD, you're a stud - don't overplay A-K here - you're drawing slim," but still didn't think folding was right.

My next thought of course, as was the initial plan, was to move all-in. However, I figured to either

a) catch everyone out of line, which was a possibility, scooping nearly $400 in the pot.
b) get called by Joe's AA or KK and be up shit's creek
c) get called by Joe's QQ or worse, but have another problem because Mandy/Mark or Dave were holding some of my "outs," which was highly likely considering that they were all in the hand.

If I call, however, I can get stacked when I flop an ace or a king against a small set or two pair, but I can double up if one of my opponents holds a hand I dominate. Obviously, If one of my opponents has a hand like A-T, it makes it even harder for me to actually flop an ace...

So, what's your play here? Raise, Call, Fold???

The bottom line is that, sitting happily to Dave's right, where I don't mind letting him do the raising, trapping callers in between, and then re-raising to take down pots, THIS was the situation I was looking for. Of course, Joe got in the middle, fucked up my read and my vibe, and fucked up my plan, which caused me to abort my mission and simply CALL. Dave called as well, and we saw a Q-x-x flop, which was checked around (?!?!?)

When a seven came on the turn, Joe doubled up through Dave, with 7-7 vs K-Q. Nice trap Dave.

So, in retrospect, an all-in move would have been best preflop, had I put Joe on 7-7. I HATE his preflop play with that hand there, as it's not really a great hand to attempt to isolate Dave with there, with two very loose callers behind you in the form of Mark and Mandy, and the possibility that I decide to NOT play like a pussy and push MY premium hand as well.

Anyway, I played it cautious and Joe took down a monster pot.

In a game like this, with me in the 2 seat, maniac Dave in the 4 seat, loose wild Zeke in the 7 seat, uber-loose Mandy in the 10 seat, and calling station Mark in the 1 seat, I actually really like my position to the maniac's RIGHT. One school of thought is to sit to the maniac's left and re-raise isolate him, but I prefer to sit to his right, let him do my betting for me, and trap the field for large pots. Of course, if I'm going to use this strategy, it helps to actually EXECUTE it when the situation presents itself.

Until next time,
KD

Actual Poker Content?

Yeah baby - I actually played poker again tonight! Mrs. Dynamite went home for a few days, and took Oscar with her, so I was left with ample opportunity to take some beats, get felted, and suckout through the back door - just like a normal Thursday night (CHA-CHING!) I've been in a catatonic mood all week, which is never a good state to play poker in, but I was hoping a few suckouts with A-Q would cure my ills.

The live game I play in is sick beyond belief. It's 1-2NL, with a $750 max buy-in, which, in case you can't figure it out, means the stacks get very deep. It's generally regarded as the biggest 1-2 game on the East Coast, but that's just by the players who play in it. I think it probably is though - it plays bigger than MOST $2-$5 games. That also means that it's frequently very hard to put an opponent on a hand - and there are some SERIOUS action players. In other words, if you raise to $15 UTG, and get called 4 times, you do not feel good with your AA looking at a Q-8-6 two flushed board out of position - you had better be prepared to play big pots.

In my first orbit, Zeke raised to $15 in early position, and was called by Mandy and Mark, two loose players, before it got to me on the button with Friday in Vegas - JJ. I made it $75 to go, from a starting stack of $300, and Zeke called me. He checked the A-Q-x flop, and I checked behind him. He bet when another ace came on the turn, and was dismayed when I mucked, as he had QQ.

In the next orbit, I raised to $10 UTG with T-T, and got called 3 times, before Mandy in the SB made it $40. Mark called, and I had $228 in my stack. It was fold or move in, and in this game, it's clearly "MOVE IN." I moved in, and Mandy called me, prompting Mark to say "If you called, I call."

I shrugged, and was not happy with a final board of 2-6-J-Q-K, which was checked down all the way. I flipped my Tens faceup, and Mandy mucked (A-9 suited) and Mark showed his 8-8. JACKPOT!

After about 2 uneventful hours in which I made some interesting plays - calling big raises with big hands (A-K) and small raises with big hands (JJ) out of position, each time surrendering on the flop. The problem in this game is that If I reraise with JJ out of the BB, I'm playing a bigger pot out of position, still multiway, and losing the deception value of my hand. That, and, I'm a pussy after being away from the table for 10 weeks.

I played another interesting pot against Zeke, when in a straddled pot with 3 limpers, I made it $25 from the button with AsJs. Zeke called from the BB, as did Frank and Ben.

The flop came A-Q-8, with the Q-8 of hearts. They checked to me, and I bet $100. Zeke called quickly. I had $300 left, and he had about the same.

The turn was an offsuit 5, and before it hit the table, I was looking at Zeke, asking him, "Really?" regarding his flop call. "I have the nut flush draw," Zeke replied, as he turned the ace of hearts faceup. He checks.

Hmmm... Zeke is a smart, loose aggressive player. I ask him "Two pair WITH the flush draw? No - that's impossible - you said that before the 5 of clubs came out - you can't have A-5 of hearts...." I'm trying to put together the pieces: if I am beat (two pair) and I move in, I'm getting called... But if he's got the ace and the flush draw, he probably calls me too, in which case I'm making a positive EV pot-sized all-in turn bet. If I check behind Zeke, and he misses his flush, he may not pay me off on the river, but I may be able to catch him betting a worse ace than me, if he thinks he can run me off the hand.

He asks me how much I have left, even though the action's on me, and I count out $325. I ask "What will you do if you miss your flush draw?" "All-in" he replies.

Ok - I push my remaining chips in, and he mucks rather quickly. In reality, if I really believed he'd move in on the river with a bare ace and no flush, I should probably check the turn, but I thought my best option was to move in on the turn with my pot-sized bet. Anyway...

Dave, one of the wildest players in the game, later put a SICK move on Paul, one of the loosest, when, on the river, after check-calling $150 and $300 turn and river bets on an ace-high board, Dave went toward his stack, which was down to $680 or so. Paul interrupted him, "David - save your chips, I don't want your money," as he showed an ace. Dave paused momentarily, shook his head, and pushed his stack out anyway. "The ace doesn't scare me." Now, Dave is probably the loosest, most aggressive (and maniacal) player in the game, but he's also smart.

Paul, a pathological loose caller (and he has top fuckin' pair on a no-straight, no-flush board), mucks. On the way home later, I asked Dave if he had a hand there, and he told me no - I completely believe him.

Oh, if you haven't heard, PokerHost apparently got hacked. I'd be careful playing on any but the most legitimate sites...

Story Here.

until next time,
KD

Beam Me Up

First off, I'd like to thank Iggy @ GuinessandPoker for semi-pimping my blog. When Iggy, one of the original poker bloggers, speaks, people listen, and his site is far and away the leading source of referrals for Kid Dynamite's World.

I'm a frequent reader of ESPN's SportsGuy, Bill Simmons. In a recent column, Simmons mentioned that his "Unintentional Comedy Scale" would need to be completely re-calibrated to account for the surfacing of this classic William Shatner clip. In the simply MEZMERIZING video, from the 1978 Science Fiction Awards, Shatner gives his spoken word "interpretation" of Elton John's Rocket Man. It's flat out impossible to describe - go watch it right now (sound necessary) - I'll wait.

Ok - you watched the video? Now we can discuss it: Here's where SportsGuy was right, and some commenters seem to be missing the point: I think Shatner was completely serious when he was doing this performance. Nowadays, he's kinda a satire of himself, and he's in on the joke, but in this clip, he thinks he's the friggin' nuts. It's absolutely priceless - I can watch in on a loop, staring at the screen in awe, mouth agape. "And I'm gonna be hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh......as-a-kite-by-then......."

Finally, the animated TV show, The Family Guy, shows why it's one of the best shows on tv by parodying the Shatner clip - a reference so obscure that it's almost impossible for the average viewer to get, but if you're in on it, it's pure genius.

-KD

Bits and Pieces

I was heavily tilted by Bob Ciaffone's article in the latest Cardplayer regarding my worst nightmare: Pokertek (PTEK). If you've forgotten, the Pokertek table basically has players sitting at a table, playing internet poker against each other: each player has a display in front of them which only they can see - there is no dealer, no physical cards, and no physical chips - it's the equivalent of online poker, but you're playing against the 9 other people you are sitting with. Ciaffone calls it "the best of both worlds," as it speeds up the game and eliminates dealer errors.

Ciaffone notes: "One of the benefits of having a dealer is to keep the game moving along. For this reason, it is a good idea for a cardroom that’s using this computerized technology to designate a player in the game as the “table captain,” to keep the game moving and ensure that no improprieties take place, such as making comments during a hand about what someone might be holding."

I cringed as I read this, imagining all the old timer leatherass table captains I've met in every poker room - the last thing we need is these douchebags playing table cop.

I hit up Dirty Dave on IM, and complained to him.

"Ouch - like you need some leatherass playing Vichy cop on you,"
he's always the intellectual.

"dk" I responded - Wall Street talk for "Don't Know" - as in "I have no clue what you're talking about.

"Vichy, France: wartime rule" he explained.

"Hang on Voltaire," I blasted him with one of my favorite movie quotes from one of my favorite movie scenes of all time: let me explain.

In Swingers, Mike and Trent are in a diner, ordering some chow. Let's join the screenplay, courtesy of ScreenplaysForYou:

MIKE I'll have "pancakes in the Age of Enlightenment"
It goes over like a lead balloon.
WAITRESS And you?
TRENT I'll have the Blackbeard over easy.
WAITRESS I'll be back with the coffee.
She takes the menus and goes.
TRENT (genuinely) Nice, baby.
MIKE I should've said Renaissance, right? It went over her head.
TRENT Baby, you did fine.
MIKE (disgusted with himself) "Age of Enlightenment". Shit. Like some waitress in a Las Vegas coffee shop is going to get an obscure French philosophical reference. How demeaning. I may as well have just said "Let me jump your ignorant bones."...
TRENT ...Baby...
MIKE ... It's just, I thought "Renaissance" was too Excaliber, it's the wrong casino. She would've gotten it, though...
TRENT You did fine. Don't sweat her. We're meeting our honeys soon. You know Christy's friend is going to be money.
MIKE I hope so. (checks watch) We gotta go soon.
TRENT Baby, relax. It's just down the hall. She's gotta change... we'll be fine.
MIKE We didn't do so bad after all.
TRENT Baby, we're money.Mike tries to catch the attention of their waitress, who is passing with a huge platter containing a BREAKFAST BANQUET.
MIKE Excuse me. We're in a bit of a hurry.
WAITRESS Hang on, Voltaire.

Brilliant stuff. Anyway, in another completely random note, I saw Matt Pinfield, former MTV VJ extraordinaire on my corner today.

My knee is healing somewhat I think - I'm able to walk, but still limp slightly. Thanks for all the well-wishers. I even had three different random people on the streets of NYC offer me assistance.

Oscar's balls (or lack thereof) appear to be healing nicely - he gets his stitches out Monday.

Mrs. Dynamite and I took him with us to Philly last weekend for a wedding, and his good behavior when given free reign in the hotel room prompted us to decide to try giving him free reign of our apartment yesterday while we were at work, instead of confining him to the kitchen like we usually do. As Mrs. Dynamite put it to me when I got home, Oscar "violated the circle of trust," by pulling all the mulch out of the big potted plant we have in our dining room, running down the hall with it, and spraying it all over the bedroom. Good effort dude - back in the kitchen...

Previously, while Mrs. Dynamite was in the shower, Oscar did this with the toilet paper:

Elsewhere in my world, last night I went with some colleagues to DelFrisco's Steakhouse. I resisted the urge to comment when the waitress told us about the special: the bone-in ribeye ("Do you like the bone in? guffaw guffaw guffaw), but when I ordered the fillet, medium, she actually said, and I quote, "That's hot and red in the center, and pink toward the outside." Before I could even react, one of my compatriots blurted "JUST the way he likes it." Of course, I then had to tell my "$600 and ounce? sounds like my sperm" story.

I told you all about how Blogger shut me down for a week several months ago, since their proprietary software had decided that I was SPAM. Well, I'm on an email discussion list with some of my poker buddies, and I sent an email to the list, which my own email dumped into my SPAM folder. Ouch. That hurts. My own account think's I'm SPAM. I don't even know what to make of that.

Finally, I'm at war with Citibank: a friend of mine sent me a check, which eventually bounced when I deposited it in my account. Citi debits the check, fine, but then they also hit me with a $10 fee. What the fuck? Huh? I am the bouncee, not the bouncer - there is no fucking way I'm paying a fee, especially since I didn't even withdraw the money. I've told them this much, and threatened to close my account if they don't take the friggin' $10 off - DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM? Yeah, I know, it's only $10, but I'll spend 5 hours fighting in on principle.

until next time,

KD