I finally uploaded a crappy quality video of Oscar's patented "fetch the tissue trick." Mrs. Dynamite sneezes, and Oscar runs and gets her a tissue. S-T-U-D.
He's the frickin' MAN.
He's the frickin' MAN.
-KD
Friday, May 26, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Nads
Oscar got neutered today. Sad, I know, but we didn't want him getting some bitch pregnant. Here's an old picture of his huge junk pre-op.
In addition, he got 4 teeth pulled - baby teeth that didn't fall out. The vet wanted them out because otherwise they cause all sorts of plaque buildup and infection problems later on.
Oscar is pretty pissed right now. He's all drugged up, laying in bed, giving me the sad face. I'll post some post-op pics, including his lampshade that he has to prevent him from pulling at his stitches.
In less depressing news, WickedChops proved their wicked interview chops once again by interviewing TJ Cloutier. It's not as good as their Kid Dynamite interview, but it proves that they have the chops to get a sit-down with TJ.
Bloomberg wrote a story about a Wall Street blog today, LeveragedSellout.com. It's absolutely fuckin' brilliant stuff - a satire on Wall Street (especially investment banking) life and culture. Apparently the kid who writes it doesn't even work for an investment bank, but gets stories from his friends that he adds artistic license too. The result is a brilliant satire, which some of his readers seem to miss the sarcasm and subtlety of, as can be seen in his comments.
Reading LeveragedSellout.com will bring back memories of American Psycho, one of my all time favorite movies, starring Christian "Batman" Bale (side note: the character Bale plays in Batman Begins is basically the same character he played in American Psycho - and he plays it to perfection). American Psycho is the ultimate satire of over-indulgent Wall Street culture, and of getting caught up in the Material World. If you haven't seen it, rent it ASAP. The book, by Brett Easton Ellis, is also exceptional, although much more graphic and gruesome than the movie.
until next time,
KD
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Homegame Action
The weather cooperated yesterday afternoon, and we set up the table in my backyard for a 7 hour session of PL Hold'em and PL Omaha.
On the very first hand, H0nus stacked Drew in an unraised pot when they both checked the flop, and H0nus made his gutshot straight on the turn at the same time Drew made 2 pair + a flush draw.
H0nus later gave me those chips on this hand:
Mergie raised to $7 UTG, and H0nus called in the cutoff. Ollie called in the SB, and I called in the BB with 2-5 of diamonds, announcing "I want you all to know, I have a really bad hand - I warned you."
When the flop came 6c-4d-3d my rags were now the nuts, with a re-draw to the mortal nuts - an open ended straight-flush re-draw. Now, on to the important business - how to make money! I bet $10. Mergie folded, and H0nus raised to $25. Ollie folded, and I bumped it to $75.
H0nus starts to think. After a minute, I tell him: "I know what you have: K-J of diamonds." "Better," he says, "I have a big pair." "Uh oh - how big?" I ask, "Not bigger than eights right?" I'm deep inside his head now... Now, H0nus and I have had many a battle in the past, and he knows I love to push him around, so he thinks his J-J is good, and he's not crazy to think so. He goes into the tank for a full 3 minutes, and finally elects to put me all-in for about $67 more. I beat him into the pot, and my hand holds up.
The Chairman, Jay G, one of the founding members of the KD homegame made a triumphant return to the game. Although he and Greg continued to push for a session of PL 7CS high-low, several of us held out, in the interest of not losing our stacks in that unruly game. We instead settled on PL Omaha, and I made a monster laydown in the first orbit:
I limped UTG with A-2-7-8 single suited, and called when Mat made it $7 from the small blind. Mergie came along for the action. The flop came A-9-2 with two hearts (not my suit), and Mat bet into me, $15. I had a very bad feeling here, and just called the $15, as did Mergie.
The turn brought an ace - a card I really didn't like, even though it made me aces full. Mat again bet $40, and now I really didn't like my hand. I called the $40 though, and Mergie folded. Mat is a pretty tight, smart player, and I don't think he's betting anything less than the nuts here - A-9-x-x.
The river was the four of hearts, completing the possible flush draw, and Mat hemmed and hawed before betting $100 into me. I KNOW I'm beat - how can I call? I'm not THAT much of a hold'em playing Omaha novice - I know my hand is vulnerable, and against this specific opponent I'm in deep trouble. I shake my head, "How can I call?" "What's that? You call?" Mat inquires. "No, I didn't do anything yet."
I continue to deliberate, and finally say "Now I'm just trying to decide if I should muck my hand face up or face down!" Mat nods and says, "Just muck already - hurry up," and that seals it for me, I lay my cards face up. Jay has a look of horror on his face - which surprises me. I'm almost expecting him to say "Nice laydown," but instead he tells me "I make that laydown, exactly, NEVER." And Jay knows exactly what he's doing. In this situation, I could make the call if Mat kept his mouth shut, but I got a serious read on him, and I felt supremely confident in my fold, especially since Mat didn't show me a bluff after I mucked face up. Mat teased me off and on for the next several orbits, but eventually told me that he did indeed have A-9 along with the flush draw.
I only played one more pot of interest, when I found JJ - Friday in Vegas - in the small blind. Mat opened for $7 on the cutoff, and I made it $24 to go. Mat called.
The flop was A-A-6, and I check-called a $35 bet from Mat.
The turn was another 6, and I checked again. Mat bet $65, and I thought for a long time, before moving all-in for $87 more. I had decided I wasn't going to fold, and thus my decision was between
a) moving all-in, in which case I get called if Mat has an Ace, and otherwise take the pot down (if Mat has KK or QQ, he probably calls here too - I can't get a better hand to fold),
or
b) call and check the river with the intention of snapping off a 3-bullet bluff when Mat bluffs the river. The risk there is that he can spike a K,Q or underset on the river, and he may not bluff the river anyway.
I decided to move in, and Mat folded quickly.
We played until 11pm, with a spotlight and a lantern on the table, until finally the action dried up and we called it a night. All in all, a good time was had by all, and I came out with a monstrous $40 profit, much of which was due to my winning the race for the odd chips when we all cashed out.
until next time,
KD
On the very first hand, H0nus stacked Drew in an unraised pot when they both checked the flop, and H0nus made his gutshot straight on the turn at the same time Drew made 2 pair + a flush draw.
H0nus later gave me those chips on this hand:
Mergie raised to $7 UTG, and H0nus called in the cutoff. Ollie called in the SB, and I called in the BB with 2-5 of diamonds, announcing "I want you all to know, I have a really bad hand - I warned you."
When the flop came 6c-4d-3d my rags were now the nuts, with a re-draw to the mortal nuts - an open ended straight-flush re-draw. Now, on to the important business - how to make money! I bet $10. Mergie folded, and H0nus raised to $25. Ollie folded, and I bumped it to $75.
H0nus starts to think. After a minute, I tell him: "I know what you have: K-J of diamonds." "Better," he says, "I have a big pair." "Uh oh - how big?" I ask, "Not bigger than eights right?" I'm deep inside his head now... Now, H0nus and I have had many a battle in the past, and he knows I love to push him around, so he thinks his J-J is good, and he's not crazy to think so. He goes into the tank for a full 3 minutes, and finally elects to put me all-in for about $67 more. I beat him into the pot, and my hand holds up.
The Chairman, Jay G, one of the founding members of the KD homegame made a triumphant return to the game. Although he and Greg continued to push for a session of PL 7CS high-low, several of us held out, in the interest of not losing our stacks in that unruly game. We instead settled on PL Omaha, and I made a monster laydown in the first orbit:
I limped UTG with A-2-7-8 single suited, and called when Mat made it $7 from the small blind. Mergie came along for the action. The flop came A-9-2 with two hearts (not my suit), and Mat bet into me, $15. I had a very bad feeling here, and just called the $15, as did Mergie.
The turn brought an ace - a card I really didn't like, even though it made me aces full. Mat again bet $40, and now I really didn't like my hand. I called the $40 though, and Mergie folded. Mat is a pretty tight, smart player, and I don't think he's betting anything less than the nuts here - A-9-x-x.
The river was the four of hearts, completing the possible flush draw, and Mat hemmed and hawed before betting $100 into me. I KNOW I'm beat - how can I call? I'm not THAT much of a hold'em playing Omaha novice - I know my hand is vulnerable, and against this specific opponent I'm in deep trouble. I shake my head, "How can I call?" "What's that? You call?" Mat inquires. "No, I didn't do anything yet."
I continue to deliberate, and finally say "Now I'm just trying to decide if I should muck my hand face up or face down!" Mat nods and says, "Just muck already - hurry up," and that seals it for me, I lay my cards face up. Jay has a look of horror on his face - which surprises me. I'm almost expecting him to say "Nice laydown," but instead he tells me "I make that laydown, exactly, NEVER." And Jay knows exactly what he's doing. In this situation, I could make the call if Mat kept his mouth shut, but I got a serious read on him, and I felt supremely confident in my fold, especially since Mat didn't show me a bluff after I mucked face up. Mat teased me off and on for the next several orbits, but eventually told me that he did indeed have A-9 along with the flush draw.
I only played one more pot of interest, when I found JJ - Friday in Vegas - in the small blind. Mat opened for $7 on the cutoff, and I made it $24 to go. Mat called.
The flop was A-A-6, and I check-called a $35 bet from Mat.
The turn was another 6, and I checked again. Mat bet $65, and I thought for a long time, before moving all-in for $87 more. I had decided I wasn't going to fold, and thus my decision was between
a) moving all-in, in which case I get called if Mat has an Ace, and otherwise take the pot down (if Mat has KK or QQ, he probably calls here too - I can't get a better hand to fold),
or
b) call and check the river with the intention of snapping off a 3-bullet bluff when Mat bluffs the river. The risk there is that he can spike a K,Q or underset on the river, and he may not bluff the river anyway.
I decided to move in, and Mat folded quickly.
We played until 11pm, with a spotlight and a lantern on the table, until finally the action dried up and we called it a night. All in all, a good time was had by all, and I came out with a monstrous $40 profit, much of which was due to my winning the race for the odd chips when we all cashed out.
until next time,
KD
Friday, May 19, 2006
Happy Fuckin' Friday!
Have you seen this video? If you're not from Boston or Chicago, you may have never seen a "piss trough" urinal before. They are really unmatched in male bathroom camaraderie - a bunch of dudes standing at a big long tub peeing into it while trying to act normal. Unmatched. This dude at Wrigley takes it to an entirely different level when he does a facefirst dive through the trough. Wow. Speechless.
I was walking into my apartment today with Oscar - who was wicked unruly on our walk. As I pulled my keys out, I looked at him and said "What's up Wild Man? What's the deal Bad Boy?" And a dude walking by stopped 5 steps past my place and started looking at me. Now, you have to understand, I live in a pretty gay neighborhood (not that there's anything wrong with that.) I suddenly realize the misinterpretation - this guy thinks I'm talking to him... I open my door, and look back - he's still looking at me. "Umm, I was talking to the dog," I explain. Johnny Cakes. He looks disappointed, shrugs, and keeps walking.
Until next time,
KD
I was walking into my apartment today with Oscar - who was wicked unruly on our walk. As I pulled my keys out, I looked at him and said "What's up Wild Man? What's the deal Bad Boy?" And a dude walking by stopped 5 steps past my place and started looking at me. Now, you have to understand, I live in a pretty gay neighborhood (not that there's anything wrong with that.) I suddenly realize the misinterpretation - this guy thinks I'm talking to him... I open my door, and look back - he's still looking at me. "Umm, I was talking to the dog," I explain. Johnny Cakes. He looks disappointed, shrugs, and keeps walking.
Until next time,
KD
Thursday, May 18, 2006
That's the Spirit
I sent out an email to my "homegame" list, planning a Saturday afternoon poker game at my place. Mergie won the award for best decision:
"I did have a second date planned for Saturday, but Poker comes first. If she can't understand that, then she's not worth dating anyway. I'm in."
Attaboy Mergie.
Oscar and I just got caught outside in a thunderstorm. He friggin' HATES the rain, and tries to refuse to go out when it's raining. Unfortunately, I already have a note today from my dogwalker that notes that Oscar didn't do a "#2" this afternoon, so we're going out tonight sooner or later - rain or shine... This is my life.
-KD
"I did have a second date planned for Saturday, but Poker comes first. If she can't understand that, then she's not worth dating anyway. I'm in."
Attaboy Mergie.
Oscar and I just got caught outside in a thunderstorm. He friggin' HATES the rain, and tries to refuse to go out when it's raining. Unfortunately, I already have a note today from my dogwalker that notes that Oscar didn't do a "#2" this afternoon, so we're going out tonight sooner or later - rain or shine... This is my life.
-KD
Monday, May 15, 2006
Johnny Cakes
So did you see Sopranos this week? There is a great scene where Vito is doing some actual construction work, as opposed to the no-show construction work he's used to doing. There is a voiceover of Vito's inner monologue, basically saying "It must be 10:30 by now - don't look at your watch - save it - enjoy it," etc... then there's a cut, and Vito is still working, he's saying to himself "It's gotta be 11:30, maybe 11:45 - look at the angle of the sun - ok - go ahead - check your watch," he's just trying to make it to quitting time. He checks his watch: 9:55am. "FUCK ME!" Vito yells out loud - and I couldn't help but laugh - as I've definitely been there. Me and Vito are kindred spirits, only he's gay, fat, Italian, a total douchebag, a Yankee fan and a mobster. Other than that, he's just like me...
Oscar went to the groomer this weekend, where he got a stylin' trim. We just came back from yet another trip to the vet. He's trying to preserve his league leading status atop the West Village Animal Hospital appearances list. This time it was for a mysterious intermittent leg injury that he's been having. The vet couldn't diagnose the problem, but did surprise Oscar with his not-so-favorite test: the rectal thermometer. I was thinking, "Um, his leg hurts, he's not sick," but what the fuck do I know - I'm not a vet. I thought he had a luxated patella, which, in English means a bad kneecap. Little did I know that dogs only have kneecaps on their hind legs - the front legs are their arms, and thus have elbows. Oscar fought the backdoor intrusion like a champ, but I had to hold him and settle him down, as the last thing I need is a BROKEN rectal thermometer inside of him.
How about some ACTUAL POKER CONTENT at Kid Dynamite's World? I haven't played recently, but I have still been watching, among other poker shows, the World Poker Tour (hey, I'm a stockholder!), which is almost unwatchable in the wake of the stellar "High Stakes Poker" (season two debuts the first week in June!). So this week was WPT Tunica - Gold Strike, featuring Gavin Smith, Scotty Nguyen, and Michael "the Grinder" Mizrachi sitting right next to each other in that order. Scotty and Grinder are the chipleaders, and play a pivotal pot early, where Scotty has 4-4 in the small blind, and Grinder has 5-6 in the BB. Forgive me if I get the action wrong, but I think it was very close to this:
Scotty limps, Grinder checks (Grinder may have made a small raise, not sure).
Flop: K-x-7, rainbow. Scotty checks, Grinder bets around 1/2 pot, Scotty calls, and says "You're going to check the turn, so I call now."
Turn: 4, giving Scotty a set, and Grinder an open-ended straight draw. Scotty checks. Grinder says "He wants a check, give him a check" and checks behind.
river: 3. Grinder goes runner-runner nuts! Aiyahh! Scotty checks, and Grinder bets out about 2/3rds the pot, perhaps slightly less.
Scotty starts to think. He cuts his chips - and at one point he even says "I can't believe I could just call you here," but continues to cut his chips, and there is no action ruled. After several seconds, Scotty stacks his chips into the pot as he says "RAISE," and reaches back for his raising chips. Grinder, in a complete brain fart, turns his cards over!
The tourney director is called to make a ruling, and SOMEHOW, he rules that Scotty can just call the bet! Huh? There is no way that's correct. Scotty is obligated to a min-raise at least. Gavin Smith pipes in something about how "there was reason to believe he was beat," but I really couldn't catch what he was trying to say, or figure out if that had something to do with the Floor's decision.
Anyway, this was a pivotal hand, as Scotty would have clearly had a tough time getting away from his set of fours on this relatively non-threatening board against a player as aggressive as the Grinder. Scotty would have check-raised the river, and Grinder would have come over the top. Scotty may very well have had to pay Grinder off with his set, as he fears only a bigger set and exactly 5-6, and suspects that Grinder's re-raising hand range is wider than that. Then again, maybe Scotty would get away from it, who knows. In any case, it was a huge mistake for the Grinder, who ended up finishing second to Scotty.
Until next time,
KD
Oscar went to the groomer this weekend, where he got a stylin' trim. We just came back from yet another trip to the vet. He's trying to preserve his league leading status atop the West Village Animal Hospital appearances list. This time it was for a mysterious intermittent leg injury that he's been having. The vet couldn't diagnose the problem, but did surprise Oscar with his not-so-favorite test: the rectal thermometer. I was thinking, "Um, his leg hurts, he's not sick," but what the fuck do I know - I'm not a vet. I thought he had a luxated patella, which, in English means a bad kneecap. Little did I know that dogs only have kneecaps on their hind legs - the front legs are their arms, and thus have elbows. Oscar fought the backdoor intrusion like a champ, but I had to hold him and settle him down, as the last thing I need is a BROKEN rectal thermometer inside of him.
How about some ACTUAL POKER CONTENT at Kid Dynamite's World? I haven't played recently, but I have still been watching, among other poker shows, the World Poker Tour (hey, I'm a stockholder!), which is almost unwatchable in the wake of the stellar "High Stakes Poker" (season two debuts the first week in June!). So this week was WPT Tunica - Gold Strike, featuring Gavin Smith, Scotty Nguyen, and Michael "the Grinder" Mizrachi sitting right next to each other in that order. Scotty and Grinder are the chipleaders, and play a pivotal pot early, where Scotty has 4-4 in the small blind, and Grinder has 5-6 in the BB. Forgive me if I get the action wrong, but I think it was very close to this:
Scotty limps, Grinder checks (Grinder may have made a small raise, not sure).
Flop: K-x-7, rainbow. Scotty checks, Grinder bets around 1/2 pot, Scotty calls, and says "You're going to check the turn, so I call now."
Turn: 4, giving Scotty a set, and Grinder an open-ended straight draw. Scotty checks. Grinder says "He wants a check, give him a check" and checks behind.
river: 3. Grinder goes runner-runner nuts! Aiyahh! Scotty checks, and Grinder bets out about 2/3rds the pot, perhaps slightly less.
Scotty starts to think. He cuts his chips - and at one point he even says "I can't believe I could just call you here," but continues to cut his chips, and there is no action ruled. After several seconds, Scotty stacks his chips into the pot as he says "RAISE," and reaches back for his raising chips. Grinder, in a complete brain fart, turns his cards over!
The tourney director is called to make a ruling, and SOMEHOW, he rules that Scotty can just call the bet! Huh? There is no way that's correct. Scotty is obligated to a min-raise at least. Gavin Smith pipes in something about how "there was reason to believe he was beat," but I really couldn't catch what he was trying to say, or figure out if that had something to do with the Floor's decision.
Anyway, this was a pivotal hand, as Scotty would have clearly had a tough time getting away from his set of fours on this relatively non-threatening board against a player as aggressive as the Grinder. Scotty would have check-raised the river, and Grinder would have come over the top. Scotty may very well have had to pay Grinder off with his set, as he fears only a bigger set and exactly 5-6, and suspects that Grinder's re-raising hand range is wider than that. Then again, maybe Scotty would get away from it, who knows. In any case, it was a huge mistake for the Grinder, who ended up finishing second to Scotty.
Until next time,
KD
Thursday, May 11, 2006
One of Those Days
Fuck Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck.
Man what a fucking day I'm having. Phone ringing off the hook regarding work annoyance after work annoyance... Then I walk into my apartment and the light bulb blows - and I can't find the light-bulb-changy-extension-thingy to reach it.
I've been on simmering TILT since Saturday, when I sat down to watch the Kentucky Derby with Mrs. Dynamite. My man Big Show was at the Derby, and ready to place a wager for me. I asked Mrs. Dynamite to pick two horses. "Barbaro and the #13 horse," she replied matter-of-factly. Of course, I didn't call Big Show and have him buy a ticket for me - it's more of a heads up friendly "who can pick the best horses" wager between Mrs. Dynamite and myself.
Murphy's Law: she woulda nailed the FUCKING EXACTA! Paid $550+ on a $2 bet. SONOFA... "If you'd given me a grand to bet we'd be rich right now," Mrs. Dynamite points out. "I woulda done it too," she adds... This coming from the woman who was scared to bet the free match-play chip at a casino on our St. Maarten vacation many years ago...
So at least the Sox thrashed the Evil Empire on Tuesday night, with the play of the game being Big Papi scoring from second on a hard hit ball to Matsui - unheard of to see the big man truckin' like that. I only wish he'd pancaked Posada at the plate.
Last night I had the misfortune of being at Yankee Stadium when the Sox blew a 3-0 lead and lost 7-3. And, there's nothing like having to listen to the game highlights on the radio of the car on the way home - when I'm jammed in the middle of the back seat. Big Papi did hit a monster dinger to the third deck in right field, and also beat out a deep infield hit! Speed!
At least Dirty Dave made me laugh today: There's been a takeover saga on Wall Street regarding Aztar corp - owners of the Tropicana. Several companies are locked in an outright bidding war for the company, with the latest bid now some 40% above the initial bid. Never mind that the valuations placed on the company are way out of the range of anything ever attained on the Vegas Strip - it's like the Dutch Tulip Mania or the Internet Bubble - these guys are DYING to own Aztar. So I ask Dirty Dave, "Can you believe this fucking Aztar?"
he replies:
"Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. "
and I smiled and laughed out loud. Dirty Dave, Analogy Master, had nailed it perfectly once again. The bidding war was, in poker parlance, like watching opponents sit across from the table and fire pot-sized raises at each other in an attempt to take the pot down - only no one was blinking.
anyway...
-KD
Man what a fucking day I'm having. Phone ringing off the hook regarding work annoyance after work annoyance... Then I walk into my apartment and the light bulb blows - and I can't find the light-bulb-changy-extension-thingy to reach it.
I've been on simmering TILT since Saturday, when I sat down to watch the Kentucky Derby with Mrs. Dynamite. My man Big Show was at the Derby, and ready to place a wager for me. I asked Mrs. Dynamite to pick two horses. "Barbaro and the #13 horse," she replied matter-of-factly. Of course, I didn't call Big Show and have him buy a ticket for me - it's more of a heads up friendly "who can pick the best horses" wager between Mrs. Dynamite and myself.
Murphy's Law: she woulda nailed the FUCKING EXACTA! Paid $550+ on a $2 bet. SONOFA... "If you'd given me a grand to bet we'd be rich right now," Mrs. Dynamite points out. "I woulda done it too," she adds... This coming from the woman who was scared to bet the free match-play chip at a casino on our St. Maarten vacation many years ago...
So at least the Sox thrashed the Evil Empire on Tuesday night, with the play of the game being Big Papi scoring from second on a hard hit ball to Matsui - unheard of to see the big man truckin' like that. I only wish he'd pancaked Posada at the plate.
Last night I had the misfortune of being at Yankee Stadium when the Sox blew a 3-0 lead and lost 7-3. And, there's nothing like having to listen to the game highlights on the radio of the car on the way home - when I'm jammed in the middle of the back seat. Big Papi did hit a monster dinger to the third deck in right field, and also beat out a deep infield hit! Speed!
At least Dirty Dave made me laugh today: There's been a takeover saga on Wall Street regarding Aztar corp - owners of the Tropicana. Several companies are locked in an outright bidding war for the company, with the latest bid now some 40% above the initial bid. Never mind that the valuations placed on the company are way out of the range of anything ever attained on the Vegas Strip - it's like the Dutch Tulip Mania or the Internet Bubble - these guys are DYING to own Aztar. So I ask Dirty Dave, "Can you believe this fucking Aztar?"
he replies:
"Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. Pot. "
and I smiled and laughed out loud. Dirty Dave, Analogy Master, had nailed it perfectly once again. The bidding war was, in poker parlance, like watching opponents sit across from the table and fire pot-sized raises at each other in an attempt to take the pot down - only no one was blinking.
anyway...
-KD
Monday, May 08, 2006
Pissahs
So I'm reading Peter King's column this week, and he tells of his trip to Fenway for the Sox-Yanks series. In the newly renovated bathrooms at Red Sox Bar Cask and Flagon, King runs into a guy who, marveling at the new digs, blurts out, "Wow! What'd they do with these pissahs?"
As a Boston native, I long for the days of drunken' Bostonians using words like "Wicked" and "Pissah" - and even the only-understood-by-fellow-Bostonians: "Wicked pissah," which I think is the equivalent of England's "The Dog's Bollocks," also known as "The Nuts." So to recap: Pissah is a noun meaning "urinal" or an adjective meaning "cool". Wicked Pissah is something very good - like Big Papi hitting a 3 run homer in the bottom of the 8th against the yankees.
Speaking of Boston bar memories - I remember vividly my senior year, late one night at Whiskey's on Boylston street. I finish using the pissah, and one of the sinks is filled to the brim with puke. I hold my breath and clean up at the other sink, while I spot a dude hanging out in the bathroom eyeing the puke-filled sink. Feeling that something needed to be said, I tried, "Wow - I'm glad I don't have to clean that up." "I do - that's MY job," the poor sap replied, in despair. "Sorry bro' - what are you going to do?" I asked him. "I think I'm going to quit." he replied, quite honestly. Good times.
In other news, Oscar has "graduated" from puppy kindergarten. He has the diploma to prove it. Yes - it's on my 'fridge. I spent Saturday morning pulling two ticks off his face - fuckin' disgusting. Ticks are the most vile creatures you could imagine - their entire head burrows under the dog's skin, and their bodies plump up with blood. Usually if you dab them with a cotton-ball or q-tip soaked with rubbing alcohol, they will release their grip, but Oscar's two ticks were very close to his eyes, so I had to be very careful. Mrs. Dynamite and I couldn't subdue the little warrior with out tightest grips, and it took us several hours of coercing and restraint before I was able to extract both ticks with a pair of tweezers (making sure not to pull off the body and leave the embedded head.) I'm told Frontline flea & tick medication works well in preventing the parasites, and he'll be on that shortly.
until next time,
KD
As a Boston native, I long for the days of drunken' Bostonians using words like "Wicked" and "Pissah" - and even the only-understood-by-fellow-Bostonians: "Wicked pissah," which I think is the equivalent of England's "The Dog's Bollocks," also known as "The Nuts." So to recap: Pissah is a noun meaning "urinal" or an adjective meaning "cool". Wicked Pissah is something very good - like Big Papi hitting a 3 run homer in the bottom of the 8th against the yankees.
Speaking of Boston bar memories - I remember vividly my senior year, late one night at Whiskey's on Boylston street. I finish using the pissah, and one of the sinks is filled to the brim with puke. I hold my breath and clean up at the other sink, while I spot a dude hanging out in the bathroom eyeing the puke-filled sink. Feeling that something needed to be said, I tried, "Wow - I'm glad I don't have to clean that up." "I do - that's MY job," the poor sap replied, in despair. "Sorry bro' - what are you going to do?" I asked him. "I think I'm going to quit." he replied, quite honestly. Good times.
In other news, Oscar has "graduated" from puppy kindergarten. He has the diploma to prove it. Yes - it's on my 'fridge. I spent Saturday morning pulling two ticks off his face - fuckin' disgusting. Ticks are the most vile creatures you could imagine - their entire head burrows under the dog's skin, and their bodies plump up with blood. Usually if you dab them with a cotton-ball or q-tip soaked with rubbing alcohol, they will release their grip, but Oscar's two ticks were very close to his eyes, so I had to be very careful. Mrs. Dynamite and I couldn't subdue the little warrior with out tightest grips, and it took us several hours of coercing and restraint before I was able to extract both ticks with a pair of tweezers (making sure not to pull off the body and leave the embedded head.) I'm told Frontline flea & tick medication works well in preventing the parasites, and he'll be on that shortly.
until next time,
KD
Thursday, May 04, 2006
F U E.S.P.N.
So I'm watching the Sox-Jays game on ESPN-HD. In the bottom of the second, 3-3 tie game, the Red Sox have the bases loaded with 1 out, and Mark Loretta coming to the plate. Suddenly, ESPN cuts away to a live Barry Bonds at bat. Not a split-screen view - they fucking CUT AWAY to Bonds! I am forced to watch Bonds ground out, and then the ESPN studio announcers take another 30 seconds before throwing the game back to the Fenway broadcast, where I see the Red Sox in the field! What the fuck?!?! The announcer casually mentions that Loretta hit into a double play.
Can't the fuckin' geniuses at ESPN come up with a better plan? They clearly don't want to sacrifice their valuable add time and show Bonds' at-bats during a commercial, but they could at least give us a split screen! Bonds isn't even close to the home run record - he's close to taking over SECOND PLACE! FUCK! Would anyone know if they just "pretended" that the Bonds at-bats were live, when in fact they were 5 minutes delayed until there was a suitable time to show them? Does anyone care about a Bonds at-bat if it's not a homer anyway? I'm certain there was not one Red Sox fan watching the game who was thinking "I don't care about Loretta and Big Papi coming up with the bases loaded - I wonder what Barry Bonds is doing right now."
fuck you ESPN.
-KD
Can't the fuckin' geniuses at ESPN come up with a better plan? They clearly don't want to sacrifice their valuable add time and show Bonds' at-bats during a commercial, but they could at least give us a split screen! Bonds isn't even close to the home run record - he's close to taking over SECOND PLACE! FUCK! Would anyone know if they just "pretended" that the Bonds at-bats were live, when in fact they were 5 minutes delayed until there was a suitable time to show them? Does anyone care about a Bonds at-bat if it's not a homer anyway? I'm certain there was not one Red Sox fan watching the game who was thinking "I don't care about Loretta and Big Papi coming up with the bases loaded - I wonder what Barry Bonds is doing right now."
fuck you ESPN.
-KD
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Beast
So I'm lying on the couch watching the Sox-Yanks game, and I hear my wife howling from upstairs "Help! Aiyahh!"
"What's the matter?" I shout up the stairs.
"He's attacking me while I'm on the toilet!" Mrs. Dynamite squeaks back, while trying to fend off the attacker:
"What's the matter?" I shout up the stairs.
"He's attacking me while I'm on the toilet!" Mrs. Dynamite squeaks back, while trying to fend off the attacker:
Yep. Oscar. The little guy has learned to identify optimal attacking times: like when his target is on the toilet, and thus less capable of defense... He got me with the same move this afternoon - it's harder than you think to defend yourself from a crazed Oscar using one arm, while you try to wipe your ass with the other...
This is my life...
-KD
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Blogfiles
The Kid Dynamite Blogfiles is up on WickedChops. I just got back from Boston, so I have some catching up to do, but in the meantime, check out the interview on WCP.
-KD
Thursday, April 27, 2006
State of the Union
So my main man Chops over at WickedChopsPoker did a "blogfiles" interview with me yesterday - it should come out very well when he posts it on his site later today. Dying to know who's at Kid Dynamite's dream poker table? Head over to WickedChops and check out the interview (I'd link to it of course, but it's not up yet). WickedChops should be on your daily blog-perusing list if it's not already. Someday Chops, Dirty Dave and I will team up to write the great American screenplay. I hate to put up a post that will bump the immortal David Williams post from the top of my blog, but the WickedChops - Kid Dynamite Blogfiles interview will be worth it.
Pokerwise: Still trying to rebound from the back to back poker disasters of two weeks ago, I have re-focused my game, and am playing flawless poker. I played 90 minutes of live 1-2NL on Monday night, for +$276, and 2 hours last night, for +$467. In between, I crushed Jordan's homegame tourney, but settled for second place.
Puppywise: Oscar is the cutest fucking dog you've ever seen. He's such a stud it's absolutely incredible. Take a look:
Pokerwise: Still trying to rebound from the back to back poker disasters of two weeks ago, I have re-focused my game, and am playing flawless poker. I played 90 minutes of live 1-2NL on Monday night, for +$276, and 2 hours last night, for +$467. In between, I crushed Jordan's homegame tourney, but settled for second place.
Puppywise: Oscar is the cutest fucking dog you've ever seen. He's such a stud it's absolutely incredible. Take a look:
Drinking straight from the bottle - Boone's Farms Style - only he's drinking a $40 bottle of Pinot Noir from Napa. I told you he was spoiled.
In other news, Mrs. Dynamite was making Matzoh Ball soup last night, from some leftover chicken I'd made the night before. Since we're on vacation this week, and we've been hanging out in town, we've been trying to take advantage of the free time to cook dinner. My wife would definitely win any "Shikza Matzoh Ball Soup Making Contest."
I peer over Mrs. Dynamite's shoulder and ask: "You like making the matzoh balls small eh?" I try to make them the size of your nuts," she replied instantly and honestly. Touche. Blogworthy. Lemme tell you though - when the matzoh balls were done, they were effing huge baby.
I'm off to Boston for the weekend with the Mrs. and the puppy. We're doing an annual canoe relay race on the Charles with our families. So far I'm 3 for 3 in "years getting poison ivey on my legs" even though I still haven't seen the fucking ivey.
I'll leave you with one more Oscar picture for the weekend...
until next time,
KD
Monday, April 24, 2006
The American Dream
Warning: NSFW: links are not suitable for work.
So this NEEDS to be addressed... The David Williams Story.
I first read about the David Williams Story on NeverWinPoker.com, but it seems that the story has been circulating for years throughout Williams' old circle: the Magic community. Basically the story is this: Williams needed cash, so he appeared in a porno in which he spends a significant chunk of time chomping on the poop chute of a washed up C-level porn star.
There is a blog, StarkNakedPoker, with all the details of the saga, including links to video clips.
Now I can't be sure this is actually David Williams - it certainly looks like him, but you can bet your hershey highway I'd use it to put DW on TILT if I ever sat with him... "Wow.. Bad beat.. that sucks ass... No offense David..." "Anyone want to order food? I'll have a tossed salad... Oops - Sorry David." The possibilities are endless.
But here's the bottom line: If it is indeed David Williams in that video - kudos to him. What's a better poker story than this:
Young aspiring poker star gets taken to the felt, broke, and has to raise a new playing stake. Instead of playing on someone else's money for a share of the profits, he pimps himself out in a low grade porno, eating the ass of some Skinimax reject from 1985. Young Star takes the porno profits and enters a satellite for the WSOP Main Event. Young Star wins the satellite, and parlays the entry into a 2nd place finish, $2MM + payday at the World Series of Poker. That's better than the Mikey McD story from Rounders. That's the American Dream: wake up broke, eat ass, parlay payment into millions. Boo Yah.
I mean seriously, who hasn't eaten a little ass on camera to raise a buy-in when they were down to the felt and the game was still good? I can't be the only one... Guys? Guys???
No shame David - just pop a piece of Dentyne before you talk to me.
(Disclaimer: KD has never tossed salad on camera)
-KD
So this NEEDS to be addressed... The David Williams Story.
I first read about the David Williams Story on NeverWinPoker.com, but it seems that the story has been circulating for years throughout Williams' old circle: the Magic community. Basically the story is this: Williams needed cash, so he appeared in a porno in which he spends a significant chunk of time chomping on the poop chute of a washed up C-level porn star.
There is a blog, StarkNakedPoker, with all the details of the saga, including links to video clips.
Now I can't be sure this is actually David Williams - it certainly looks like him, but you can bet your hershey highway I'd use it to put DW on TILT if I ever sat with him... "Wow.. Bad beat.. that sucks ass... No offense David..." "Anyone want to order food? I'll have a tossed salad... Oops - Sorry David." The possibilities are endless.
But here's the bottom line: If it is indeed David Williams in that video - kudos to him. What's a better poker story than this:
Young aspiring poker star gets taken to the felt, broke, and has to raise a new playing stake. Instead of playing on someone else's money for a share of the profits, he pimps himself out in a low grade porno, eating the ass of some Skinimax reject from 1985. Young Star takes the porno profits and enters a satellite for the WSOP Main Event. Young Star wins the satellite, and parlays the entry into a 2nd place finish, $2MM + payday at the World Series of Poker. That's better than the Mikey McD story from Rounders. That's the American Dream: wake up broke, eat ass, parlay payment into millions. Boo Yah.
I mean seriously, who hasn't eaten a little ass on camera to raise a buy-in when they were down to the felt and the game was still good? I can't be the only one... Guys? Guys???
No shame David - just pop a piece of Dentyne before you talk to me.
(Disclaimer: KD has never tossed salad on camera)
-KD
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Surprise
Statcounter.com is a cool web tool that let you look at stats on your web page, such as how many unique visitors you have, how many page loads, how people got to your site, and what keyword searches your site was a result for.
I can only imagine the surprise on one douchebag's face when he searched for "barbershop hot lather shave gentlemen" and ended up with Dirty Dave's legendary guest post about a poop gone bad at Truefitt and Hill in Vegas on Six Sigma Sunday.
I also get a lot of hits from searches like "Phil Hellmuth Douchebag," "Sean Sheikhan," and "Peyton Manning's Wife."
I was going to write a post about Oscar's throbbing boner (uh oh, now I'll show up in some more totally fucked up searches), but as Bones noted, I don't have a good picture to go along with it, so I'll hold off for now. I'll throw in a bum-sniffing pic instead.
I can only imagine the surprise on one douchebag's face when he searched for "barbershop hot lather shave gentlemen" and ended up with Dirty Dave's legendary guest post about a poop gone bad at Truefitt and Hill in Vegas on Six Sigma Sunday.
I also get a lot of hits from searches like "Phil Hellmuth Douchebag," "Sean Sheikhan," and "Peyton Manning's Wife."
I was going to write a post about Oscar's throbbing boner (uh oh, now I'll show up in some more totally fucked up searches), but as Bones noted, I don't have a good picture to go along with it, so I'll hold off for now. I'll throw in a bum-sniffing pic instead.
good times.
-KD
Friday, April 14, 2006
Sinking
Yesterday's session hurt. Thinking back about the session, I was very happy about my play in general: I took one vicious beat, missed a big draw, ran into one pretty cold deck, and was beaten by a better hand in another pot. The fourteen hundred dollar loss sucked, but I felt good about my play. I vowed to keep my composure, get back on the train, and start fresh today.
Today, I ground my stack up early, and then quickly got stacked by Chris on his first hand: I raised to $10 UTG with Friday in Vegas: JJ. Chris called, as did JD and one other, and we saw a 6-7-8 flop with two diamonds.
I bet $50 and was called by both players. On the turn, the jack of diamonds came. Aiyahh... speaking of cold decks. Chris has been playing ridiculously fast and loose lately, so I'm not planning to check-fold here. I bet $150, and he moves all-in for $180 more. Fuckin'A. I call and he has K-3 of diamonds. The board doesn't pair on the river.
Can I get away from this hand? Perhaps. This is one I can complain about all I want, but I didn't need to lose $330 more here on the turn. Indeed, the jack of diamonds was the worst card in the deck for me on the turn, but it's also conceivable I can give up on this pot against two opponents. The bottom line was, against these two opponents, in this game, I wasn't prepared to do so.
I rebought, and really focused. I played some of my best poker: managing to dodge bullets in difficult situations while fighting to stay afloat and maintain my discipline.
I raise to $15 in EP with KQ, and 5 players called me. I bet $75 into the flop of K-T-6, and Billy R on the button thought for 20 seconds before moving all-in. I had about $550 left, and he had me covered. Now, Billy was the one who stacked me a while back with AA vs. my KK, making a similar overbet which I called preflop. We've talked at length about that hand, and Billy knows that I'm a thinking player. So while I'd normally have to muck this KQ without hesitation, Billy is deep inside my head: I know that he knows that I know he's done this to me before... Does he put me on AK and expect me to call here? In any case, Billy is not the type of guy who puts his money in the pot in a situation like this drawing dead. At best I'm up against an open ender, or a flush draw. At worst I'm drawing almost dead to a set. I muck. Feel good about it KD.
I gained a lot of confidence when I beat my nemesis, Billy R, in the following pot:
Larry raised to $15, and Billy called. I was in the SB with JJ again, and made it $55 to go. Both players called. The flop came: 8-4-2. I checked. Larry checked. Billy bet $65, I called and Larry mucked. The turn was a nine, and I checked. Billy makes a comment about my subtle pinky finger check, and checks behind me. The river is a deuce, pairing the board. I check again. Billy bets $140 and I call, raking the pot when he shows 3-3. I like the way I played this hand: Billy is a very tough player, and I maximized my value here.
I was in for $1000, with about $950 in my stack, when I made the biggest mistake of the past two days - and it cost me. I can make all the excuses I want, and try justify my play, but the bottom line is, this was one of the worst calls I have made in recent memory. I can only hope this play is a lesson to someone reading this. Here's what happened:
I was in the SB with AA. There was a straddle, and two callers, before Ivan on the button made it $35. Now, Ivan is a big donater in the game: he's loose and wild, and will call down big bets with marginal hands. The strategy for beating Ivan is simple: make a hand and bet it.
I raised to $85, and everyone folded to Ivan, who said "You want $50 more of my money eh? Ok." and called.
The flop was Q-6-4 rainbow. I bet $100, Ivan called. This could mean he has a queen (he may frequently raise a queen here, but will also smooth call), or any pair between 6's and Q's.
The turn is a 3, and I bet $250. Ivan says "I'm all-in," and I jump up from the table. Fuck. The dealer burn a card and goes to deal the turn card and the whole table yells at him to stop - as I haven't acted yet.
Now, the easy reasoning is "It's Ivan - he could have anything, I call," but I'm smarter than that. More importantly, I know Ivan's smarter than that. Ivan is very difficult to put on a hand, but the bottom line is, he's extremely unlikely to raise me here with A-Q, K-Q a weaker Q, or any other hand I can beat. I don't think he has KK, but I do think he'd play KK like this. Ivan is not stupid - he usually has a hand like two pair or a bigger made hand here. I know this - it's an easy laydown.
I look at Ivan. "I have aces." I tell him. "That's not the hand I put you on," he responds. Muck. Muck!. Muck the hand KD - the voices in my head are screaming. You cannot be winning. But it's IVAN! I respond to the voices. He could have anything! You know that's not true - come on - you're plenty good enough to release these aces.
The table calls the clock on me. I ask Ivan "If I fold will you show me?" "No," he answers. If he says yes, I'm calling in a heartbeat. But he said "No" - of course he did - he has a monster and wants me to call! This is such and easy fold I can't believe it. I count and recount my chips. I stand up and scratch my head. The dealer counts down. 30 seconds left.
I stack my chips. I'm mucking. I shake my head. I look at Ivan. "Ten. nine. eight. seven..." and a last thought goes through my head, proving I've hit rock botton: If I win this pot, I could dig myself out of the hole I've been sliding into for the last two days. My hands, as if acting on their own, push my $550+ chips neatly into the pot, as I watch in horror.
Ivan turns of 6-6: he flopped a set. The river is a ten, and I shake my head. No excuses. Digging myself out of the hole? Come on... I just dug myself into a hole that I have no chance of getting out of. Bad call. "It's Ivan, he could have anything" simply doesn't work as an excuse for a good player, which I envision myself as. Despite my brilliant play over the session, this one mistake cost me about $1k. It wasn't bad luck. It wasn't a cold deck, it was a bad play.
I rebought, got ground down to $225, and lost my remaining stack with 2-2 in this cold-deck situation that typified the victim mindset I fell into: Ivan made it $20 preflop and 5 of us called. The flop came Q-Q-2 with two hearts. It was checked around. Turn: 8 of hearts. Bobby checked. Ivan bet $85. I moved all in for $205. Bobby called. Ivan called. I show my had to Sal, next to me, and he pats me on the arm, whispering "There you go!" "I am not winning this pot," I sigh to him, beaten.
River: Jack of hearts: Bobby bets $300 and Ivan mucks. Bobby turns over - I don't even need to see it - I know already: Q-8. Unreal. I toss my 2-2 on the felt, eliciting moans of worthless sympathy. Could I have bet the flop? Of course - but it wouldn't have made a difference. Bobby does not release a queen here. And my equity in letting the flush draws chase their heart drawing dead was more than worth it anyway, considering that a queen isn't folding. Cold Fucking Deck.
I walk out into the rain without an umbrella, and manage to laugh at the situation. More bad fucking luck. More cold fucking decks. Then I think back to the fact that the big pot I lost had nothing to do with luck - NO EXCUSES - it was my own stubbornness, TILT, and desperation that cost me an extra $550 with aces in a hopeless situation.
I hit "play" on my Ipod, forgetting where I had stopped the music. Pearl Jam: Alive. "Ohhhh, I'm still alive," Eddie Vedder wails, as I laugh again, and smile at the omen: yeah - I'm still alive. I'm shaking my head as I walk toward the subway in a slow, steady rain. The next song comes on: Why Go: with Vedder shrieking "Why go home? Why go home? Why go home?" Is someone trying to tell me something? I look for the hidden message... But I'm going home: I know why....
Today, I ground my stack up early, and then quickly got stacked by Chris on his first hand: I raised to $10 UTG with Friday in Vegas: JJ. Chris called, as did JD and one other, and we saw a 6-7-8 flop with two diamonds.
I bet $50 and was called by both players. On the turn, the jack of diamonds came. Aiyahh... speaking of cold decks. Chris has been playing ridiculously fast and loose lately, so I'm not planning to check-fold here. I bet $150, and he moves all-in for $180 more. Fuckin'A. I call and he has K-3 of diamonds. The board doesn't pair on the river.
Can I get away from this hand? Perhaps. This is one I can complain about all I want, but I didn't need to lose $330 more here on the turn. Indeed, the jack of diamonds was the worst card in the deck for me on the turn, but it's also conceivable I can give up on this pot against two opponents. The bottom line was, against these two opponents, in this game, I wasn't prepared to do so.
I rebought, and really focused. I played some of my best poker: managing to dodge bullets in difficult situations while fighting to stay afloat and maintain my discipline.
I raise to $15 in EP with KQ, and 5 players called me. I bet $75 into the flop of K-T-6, and Billy R on the button thought for 20 seconds before moving all-in. I had about $550 left, and he had me covered. Now, Billy was the one who stacked me a while back with AA vs. my KK, making a similar overbet which I called preflop. We've talked at length about that hand, and Billy knows that I'm a thinking player. So while I'd normally have to muck this KQ without hesitation, Billy is deep inside my head: I know that he knows that I know he's done this to me before... Does he put me on AK and expect me to call here? In any case, Billy is not the type of guy who puts his money in the pot in a situation like this drawing dead. At best I'm up against an open ender, or a flush draw. At worst I'm drawing almost dead to a set. I muck. Feel good about it KD.
I gained a lot of confidence when I beat my nemesis, Billy R, in the following pot:
Larry raised to $15, and Billy called. I was in the SB with JJ again, and made it $55 to go. Both players called. The flop came: 8-4-2. I checked. Larry checked. Billy bet $65, I called and Larry mucked. The turn was a nine, and I checked. Billy makes a comment about my subtle pinky finger check, and checks behind me. The river is a deuce, pairing the board. I check again. Billy bets $140 and I call, raking the pot when he shows 3-3. I like the way I played this hand: Billy is a very tough player, and I maximized my value here.
I was in for $1000, with about $950 in my stack, when I made the biggest mistake of the past two days - and it cost me. I can make all the excuses I want, and try justify my play, but the bottom line is, this was one of the worst calls I have made in recent memory. I can only hope this play is a lesson to someone reading this. Here's what happened:
I was in the SB with AA. There was a straddle, and two callers, before Ivan on the button made it $35. Now, Ivan is a big donater in the game: he's loose and wild, and will call down big bets with marginal hands. The strategy for beating Ivan is simple: make a hand and bet it.
I raised to $85, and everyone folded to Ivan, who said "You want $50 more of my money eh? Ok." and called.
The flop was Q-6-4 rainbow. I bet $100, Ivan called. This could mean he has a queen (he may frequently raise a queen here, but will also smooth call), or any pair between 6's and Q's.
The turn is a 3, and I bet $250. Ivan says "I'm all-in," and I jump up from the table. Fuck. The dealer burn a card and goes to deal the turn card and the whole table yells at him to stop - as I haven't acted yet.
Now, the easy reasoning is "It's Ivan - he could have anything, I call," but I'm smarter than that. More importantly, I know Ivan's smarter than that. Ivan is very difficult to put on a hand, but the bottom line is, he's extremely unlikely to raise me here with A-Q, K-Q a weaker Q, or any other hand I can beat. I don't think he has KK, but I do think he'd play KK like this. Ivan is not stupid - he usually has a hand like two pair or a bigger made hand here. I know this - it's an easy laydown.
I look at Ivan. "I have aces." I tell him. "That's not the hand I put you on," he responds. Muck. Muck!. Muck the hand KD - the voices in my head are screaming. You cannot be winning. But it's IVAN! I respond to the voices. He could have anything! You know that's not true - come on - you're plenty good enough to release these aces.
The table calls the clock on me. I ask Ivan "If I fold will you show me?" "No," he answers. If he says yes, I'm calling in a heartbeat. But he said "No" - of course he did - he has a monster and wants me to call! This is such and easy fold I can't believe it. I count and recount my chips. I stand up and scratch my head. The dealer counts down. 30 seconds left.
I stack my chips. I'm mucking. I shake my head. I look at Ivan. "Ten. nine. eight. seven..." and a last thought goes through my head, proving I've hit rock botton: If I win this pot, I could dig myself out of the hole I've been sliding into for the last two days. My hands, as if acting on their own, push my $550+ chips neatly into the pot, as I watch in horror.
Ivan turns of 6-6: he flopped a set. The river is a ten, and I shake my head. No excuses. Digging myself out of the hole? Come on... I just dug myself into a hole that I have no chance of getting out of. Bad call. "It's Ivan, he could have anything" simply doesn't work as an excuse for a good player, which I envision myself as. Despite my brilliant play over the session, this one mistake cost me about $1k. It wasn't bad luck. It wasn't a cold deck, it was a bad play.
I rebought, got ground down to $225, and lost my remaining stack with 2-2 in this cold-deck situation that typified the victim mindset I fell into: Ivan made it $20 preflop and 5 of us called. The flop came Q-Q-2 with two hearts. It was checked around. Turn: 8 of hearts. Bobby checked. Ivan bet $85. I moved all in for $205. Bobby called. Ivan called. I show my had to Sal, next to me, and he pats me on the arm, whispering "There you go!" "I am not winning this pot," I sigh to him, beaten.
River: Jack of hearts: Bobby bets $300 and Ivan mucks. Bobby turns over - I don't even need to see it - I know already: Q-8. Unreal. I toss my 2-2 on the felt, eliciting moans of worthless sympathy. Could I have bet the flop? Of course - but it wouldn't have made a difference. Bobby does not release a queen here. And my equity in letting the flush draws chase their heart drawing dead was more than worth it anyway, considering that a queen isn't folding. Cold Fucking Deck.
I walk out into the rain without an umbrella, and manage to laugh at the situation. More bad fucking luck. More cold fucking decks. Then I think back to the fact that the big pot I lost had nothing to do with luck - NO EXCUSES - it was my own stubbornness, TILT, and desperation that cost me an extra $550 with aces in a hopeless situation.
I hit "play" on my Ipod, forgetting where I had stopped the music. Pearl Jam: Alive. "Ohhhh, I'm still alive," Eddie Vedder wails, as I laugh again, and smile at the omen: yeah - I'm still alive. I'm shaking my head as I walk toward the subway in a slow, steady rain. The next song comes on: Why Go: with Vedder shrieking "Why go home? Why go home? Why go home?" Is someone trying to tell me something? I look for the hidden message... But I'm going home: I know why....
Cause it's not all about some bad calls and bad beats...
Live and learn.
-KD
Soapbox
I'm a big fan of Tasti-D-Lite - the low calorie, lactose free, mostly flavorless ice cream alternative - but their hazing has to stop. Every few months when I go into my local Tasti-D for an after dinner helping of bland, not-so-unhealthy desert substance, there is a new girl behind the counter with a tag on her shirt that reads: "TRAINEE."
Now, although I consider myself smarter than the average bear, and like Bobby Bracelet, I scorn the stupid, I have faith in the ability of the average NYC employee to effectively dispense a soft serve ice cream substitute into a cone or cup by pulling a lever on a machine. Where does the training come in? Hazing. That's all. The veteran Alpha-Tasti-D-Female in residence makes this pledge wear the TRAINEE badge to let her know: "Hey - you think you've got it all figured out, but I've been dispensing wafer cones since you were in diapers," even though the veteran has only been there 4 months. Always puts a smile on my face.
And while I'm ranting: lemme talk about this New Jersey smoking ban. New Jersey has banned smoking in indoor places: bars, restaurants, etc, following in the footsteps of New York, Massachusetts, and several other states. Great stuff - I applaud them - but there is one major problem: the ban doesn't apply on the floor of Atlantic City casinos!
What? Now in NYC, when bars complained that they would lose business to the smoking ban, they were full of shit: every bar and nightspot was on equal footing: unless smokers ceased going out entirely, which did not happen, business would go on. In New Jersey, however, even though casinos already have the most addictive product on the market: the allure of easy money, their lobbyists somehow convinced the legislature to give them a monopoly on the second most addictive product: nicotine. That is a big load of crap - and local NJ business have every right to be pissed.
That is all.
I'm going to get a haircut today - very exciting - and then I will make my Ali-like return to the felt for some live NL play.
-KD
Now, although I consider myself smarter than the average bear, and like Bobby Bracelet, I scorn the stupid, I have faith in the ability of the average NYC employee to effectively dispense a soft serve ice cream substitute into a cone or cup by pulling a lever on a machine. Where does the training come in? Hazing. That's all. The veteran Alpha-Tasti-D-Female in residence makes this pledge wear the TRAINEE badge to let her know: "Hey - you think you've got it all figured out, but I've been dispensing wafer cones since you were in diapers," even though the veteran has only been there 4 months. Always puts a smile on my face.
And while I'm ranting: lemme talk about this New Jersey smoking ban. New Jersey has banned smoking in indoor places: bars, restaurants, etc, following in the footsteps of New York, Massachusetts, and several other states. Great stuff - I applaud them - but there is one major problem: the ban doesn't apply on the floor of Atlantic City casinos!
What? Now in NYC, when bars complained that they would lose business to the smoking ban, they were full of shit: every bar and nightspot was on equal footing: unless smokers ceased going out entirely, which did not happen, business would go on. In New Jersey, however, even though casinos already have the most addictive product on the market: the allure of easy money, their lobbyists somehow convinced the legislature to give them a monopoly on the second most addictive product: nicotine. That is a big load of crap - and local NJ business have every right to be pissed.
That is all.
I'm going to get a haircut today - very exciting - and then I will make my Ali-like return to the felt for some live NL play.
-KD
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Bloodbath
You know you're a pro when you can get railed in the backdoor and not even flinch. Wait - let me rephrase that, and add some details.
I played 4 hours of live 1-2NL today. The game was wild: loose action and huge pots. I bided my time, patiently mucking my trash hands and my missed flops, until, 90 minutes into the session, I played the pot I was waiting for against an action player. Two players limped, and the cutoff, Bobby, raised to $15. I called with 4-4 in the small blind, and $600 in my stack (Bobby had me covered). Two other came along.
flop: 2-4-Q rainbow. I bet out $40, and a limper called, as did Bobby.
The turn brought a jack, and Bobby flinched visibly. I bet $100, and with little hesitation, he raised it to $300. I counted down my chips: I had $460 left, which I pushed in. He called the last $160, and Eddie dealt the river:
Queen. I tabled my 4-4, and Bobby showed Q-J. Aiyahh! Railed in the backdoor for a $1300 pot - and I took it like a man. Right in the poop chute. "Chips."
Unfortunately, the rest of the session didn't get any better. I got stacked with AJ suited in diamonds after this action: I raise UTG to $10, and get 5 callers. Larry in the SB bumps it to $20 - a strange move: he's kinda on tilt, but he doesn't make this move without a hand he wants to play a big pot with. The BB calls in between us, and I debate a raise, but settle on a call. Everyone comes along. We see the flop:
2-3-Q with two diamonds. Larry checks, the BB bets out $55, and I raise to $255. It's folded to Sal who moves all-in - he clearly has a set, and I call my remaining $150 to see his set of threes. The turn brings an ace, and the river is the 7 of clubs: I'm left digging into my pocket again.
Sal took another few hundred from me when he flopped a set of sixes vs. my QJ on a A-J-6 board, and called my $25 bet.. The turn brought a jack - the only card in the deck that would get me to put more money in, as it was clear I was previously behind. I checkraised his $50 bet to $200, and he came over the top all-in, but prematurely turned his cards over! I mucked, saving my last $160 - which I lost a few hands later when my TT ran into Will's QQ.
Net for the session: -$1400. Ouch. One of my worst ever.
random thought: Have you seen Jeremy Piven's travel show? Lemme put it this way: I don't want to watch Jeremy Piven travel to India unless he's doing it in character as Ari the Agent from Entourage. 'Nuff Said.
until next time,
KD
I played 4 hours of live 1-2NL today. The game was wild: loose action and huge pots. I bided my time, patiently mucking my trash hands and my missed flops, until, 90 minutes into the session, I played the pot I was waiting for against an action player. Two players limped, and the cutoff, Bobby, raised to $15. I called with 4-4 in the small blind, and $600 in my stack (Bobby had me covered). Two other came along.
flop: 2-4-Q rainbow. I bet out $40, and a limper called, as did Bobby.
The turn brought a jack, and Bobby flinched visibly. I bet $100, and with little hesitation, he raised it to $300. I counted down my chips: I had $460 left, which I pushed in. He called the last $160, and Eddie dealt the river:
Queen. I tabled my 4-4, and Bobby showed Q-J. Aiyahh! Railed in the backdoor for a $1300 pot - and I took it like a man. Right in the poop chute. "Chips."
Unfortunately, the rest of the session didn't get any better. I got stacked with AJ suited in diamonds after this action: I raise UTG to $10, and get 5 callers. Larry in the SB bumps it to $20 - a strange move: he's kinda on tilt, but he doesn't make this move without a hand he wants to play a big pot with. The BB calls in between us, and I debate a raise, but settle on a call. Everyone comes along. We see the flop:
2-3-Q with two diamonds. Larry checks, the BB bets out $55, and I raise to $255. It's folded to Sal who moves all-in - he clearly has a set, and I call my remaining $150 to see his set of threes. The turn brings an ace, and the river is the 7 of clubs: I'm left digging into my pocket again.
Sal took another few hundred from me when he flopped a set of sixes vs. my QJ on a A-J-6 board, and called my $25 bet.. The turn brought a jack - the only card in the deck that would get me to put more money in, as it was clear I was previously behind. I checkraised his $50 bet to $200, and he came over the top all-in, but prematurely turned his cards over! I mucked, saving my last $160 - which I lost a few hands later when my TT ran into Will's QQ.
Net for the session: -$1400. Ouch. One of my worst ever.
random thought: Have you seen Jeremy Piven's travel show? Lemme put it this way: I don't want to watch Jeremy Piven travel to India unless he's doing it in character as Ari the Agent from Entourage. 'Nuff Said.
until next time,
KD
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Phil Fun
Thanks to Paul Phillips for providing this tidbit: Bill vs Phil. If you're having trouble getting the Quicktime video on the site to play, go to a computer where you can get it to work. It's worth it. Priceless. I give this clip to all of you as a present on my birthday. Yes - Wednesday, April 12th is the day: Kid Dynamite's 30th B'day. It's a big number, so allow me the shameless self promotion.
For my birthday wish, I can only hope that poker players all over the world will make 2006 the year of the Phil Hellmuth song, which they will sing whenever they stack an opponent... "You don't... wanna mess with Hellmuth - Why? 'Cause Hellmuth... will freakin' bust you." (sung in a douche-baggish Hellmuth sing-song voice)
A poster (The_Groove) on Paul's journal said is best: "If I had to devise a formula to create the prototypical jackass, the end result would be very close to Phil Hellmuth."
-KD
For my birthday wish, I can only hope that poker players all over the world will make 2006 the year of the Phil Hellmuth song, which they will sing whenever they stack an opponent... "You don't... wanna mess with Hellmuth - Why? 'Cause Hellmuth... will freakin' bust you." (sung in a douche-baggish Hellmuth sing-song voice)
A poster (The_Groove) on Paul's journal said is best: "If I had to devise a formula to create the prototypical jackass, the end result would be very close to Phil Hellmuth."
-KD
Spring Fever
Red Sox Nation is ablaze with a fresh season of hopes and dreams, and enamored with young gun closer Jonathan Papelbon, new ace Josh Beckett, and new faces all over the infield. Spring optimism now carries the weight of real expectations - not eternal disappointment, after the conquest in the 2004 season (which also finally featured the wedding of KD and Mrs. D).
As a Red Sox fan in New York, it comes from all sides: Big MO and H0nus send the good messages, words of Sox support ("Another 1-2-3 inning for Beckett," "Pap is a stud"). Zray represents the dark side: blasting me on AIM to tell me that Johnny "Judas" Damon doubled in his first at bat in Yankee Stadium. I retaliate by hitting Yankee fan EddieHilz with a screenshot of the AL East standings, and a simple message: Suck It. He ignores me.
We watch not only our own box scores, but those of The Enemy. Sox win... "How'd the Yanks do?" It's reflex. It's all that matters. Never mind that several baseball minds picked Toronto to win the AL East this year (I'd take the Sox/Yanks over Toronto any day.) The Yankees are the competition.
The season is young, but now that the Red Sox have finally proved to be more than the little brother who sits there and takes his beating, the rivalry here in New York is better than ever. Now the Sox have a hope. Now it's a fair fight. Well, almost fair...
But the best tidbit of the young season: Pitcher Bronson Arroyo - who the Red Sox traded to Cincinnati for Willy Mo Pena (who let a ball bounce off his glove into the bullpen for a homer today), is 2-0 with a 1.98 ERA... and TWO HOME RUNS! Yes - Bronson has HIT two home runs! Unreal.
Meanwhile, back in Red Sox Nation, Coco Crisp has a broken finger, Trot Nixon has a pulled groin, and Keith Foulke is a shell of his former self (note: Keith Foulke almost singlehandedly won the Red Sox the World Series in 2004 with impeccable pitching in zero margin of error situations time after time and inning after inning - it's essential that people remember this). On the flip side, Big Papi has a new contract, Manny is happy for the moment, and Schilling is throwing 96 mph on his 110th pitch. Papelbon has the entire town talking, and Beckett is getting fired up.
It's gonna be another wild ride.
-KD
As a Red Sox fan in New York, it comes from all sides: Big MO and H0nus send the good messages, words of Sox support ("Another 1-2-3 inning for Beckett," "Pap is a stud"). Zray represents the dark side: blasting me on AIM to tell me that Johnny "Judas" Damon doubled in his first at bat in Yankee Stadium. I retaliate by hitting Yankee fan EddieHilz with a screenshot of the AL East standings, and a simple message: Suck It. He ignores me.
We watch not only our own box scores, but those of The Enemy. Sox win... "How'd the Yanks do?" It's reflex. It's all that matters. Never mind that several baseball minds picked Toronto to win the AL East this year (I'd take the Sox/Yanks over Toronto any day.) The Yankees are the competition.
The season is young, but now that the Red Sox have finally proved to be more than the little brother who sits there and takes his beating, the rivalry here in New York is better than ever. Now the Sox have a hope. Now it's a fair fight. Well, almost fair...
But the best tidbit of the young season: Pitcher Bronson Arroyo - who the Red Sox traded to Cincinnati for Willy Mo Pena (who let a ball bounce off his glove into the bullpen for a homer today), is 2-0 with a 1.98 ERA... and TWO HOME RUNS! Yes - Bronson has HIT two home runs! Unreal.
Meanwhile, back in Red Sox Nation, Coco Crisp has a broken finger, Trot Nixon has a pulled groin, and Keith Foulke is a shell of his former self (note: Keith Foulke almost singlehandedly won the Red Sox the World Series in 2004 with impeccable pitching in zero margin of error situations time after time and inning after inning - it's essential that people remember this). On the flip side, Big Papi has a new contract, Manny is happy for the moment, and Schilling is throwing 96 mph on his 110th pitch. Papelbon has the entire town talking, and Beckett is getting fired up.
It's gonna be another wild ride.
-KD
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Quote of the Day
"I am pleased the Ministry of Culture is protecting the morals of expatriate bankers and their girlfriends." - Mick Jagger, Rolling Stones
The Stones played Shanghai, China last night, the culmination of an arduous road that resulted in the Chinese Ministry of Culture barring them from performing 5 songs ("Brown Sugar," "Beast of Burden," "Let's Spend the Night Together," "Honky Tonk Women" and "Rough Justice" ) which are, I suppose, the tool of the White Devil. The funny thing is, the ticket prices ranged from the equivalent of about $40 to $500, which meant that very few Chinese citizens could afford them, and prompted Mick's sarcastic quote above.
non-sequitors:
-I played 3 hours of live NL Hold'em last night, and finished down $235, thanks to a poor decision which resulted in my inability to release a hand that was clearly not best. I also played a few pots in fine form, which was a positive, at least.
-Bobby Bracelet is raising funds in memory of a friend's battle with cancer. If you'd like to support him, you can find the details on his web page.
-Oscar is recovering from Colitis - an infection of the colon, and he's got a bunch of new toys. Here's a picture of him pouncing on his cousin Gustav.
The Stones played Shanghai, China last night, the culmination of an arduous road that resulted in the Chinese Ministry of Culture barring them from performing 5 songs ("Brown Sugar," "Beast of Burden," "Let's Spend the Night Together," "Honky Tonk Women" and "Rough Justice" ) which are, I suppose, the tool of the White Devil. The funny thing is, the ticket prices ranged from the equivalent of about $40 to $500, which meant that very few Chinese citizens could afford them, and prompted Mick's sarcastic quote above.
non-sequitors:
-I played 3 hours of live NL Hold'em last night, and finished down $235, thanks to a poor decision which resulted in my inability to release a hand that was clearly not best. I also played a few pots in fine form, which was a positive, at least.
-Bobby Bracelet is raising funds in memory of a friend's battle with cancer. If you'd like to support him, you can find the details on his web page.
-Oscar is recovering from Colitis - an infection of the colon, and he's got a bunch of new toys. Here's a picture of him pouncing on his cousin Gustav.
-A few precious days remain until I'm officially "Old." Tonight's forecast calls for "Severe drunkenness, with an 80% chance of feeling like crap tomorrow."
-KD
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