Party Time
What the fuck is "L.A. Chic" to be exact? That's the dress code for the Full Tilt party that will beheld at a club in the Wynn Casino called La Bete on Tuesday night. See, this is the major reason I choose not to live in La-La land. To me, L.A. Chic means... dress like hipsters. I don't do that. I loathe all things hipster. I'm afraid if I show up in a Hawaiian shirt, that I'll get turned away and miss my opportunity to get rocked on free booze. Alas, I throw together something at the last minute.
Yeah the parties are cropping up. On Friday it was Nolan's book signing. Tonight it's the Full Tilt bash. I also got an invite to another party. I bumped into two hot chicks. Once they saw my press credentials for "Fox Sports" they wanted to invite me to their party, which is an opening of some film about poker. It was being held at the Palms a few hours before the Full Tilt party. Free booze. Red carpet. More hipsters and leggy blondes with implants the size of globes. Since I have to work, I can't do both parties. But I will not pass up on the Full Tilt bash. I wonder if Hank is coming into town for that?
I also got an invite to Doyle Brunson's party on Friday. I heard that there's a celebrity that I adore who will be there. I won't say who she is, but I will do my best to get a picture with her. I wonder if I could get Texas Dolly to call Al Cant Hang for a Dial-a-Shot?
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Monday, July 04, 2005
Radio Free Pauly and Other Articles
Here are some freelance articles of mine that have been published in the last week:
I taped my interview with Sean on Sunday morning for the Lord Admiral Card Club Radio Show and Podcast. If you don't know by now, it's the best podcast dedicated to poker in the universe. Over the last few months, I've become a huge cult figure in Canada. I'm happy to be a part of their amazing show.
Sean and Brent are working hard every week to get their podcast done (for free) so stop by and show your support.
You can download the MP3 of this week's show... Episode 33: Here. (Right click and Save As)
You can download the MP3 of last week's show... Episode 32: Here. (Right click and Save As)
We discuss the fourth week of WSOP action including Doyle Brunson and other cool poker stuff. The Poker Prof is interviewed. Plus my brother Derek had his blog, Poker in the Weeds, picked as "Blog of the Week" by Sean and Brent. Congrats Derek!
If you want to catch up and listen to previous episodes, please visit their archives over at Brainscat. Stop by their site and download the extra nuggets. Thanks again to Sean and Stacks for having me on.
Here are some freelance articles of mine that have been published in the last week:
1. Phil Ivey Wakes Up to Win 6th Bracelet (Poker Player Newspaper)Moving on...
2. Small Stakes Hold'em Book Review (Poker Magazine)
3. Dan Schmiech Beats Gabe Kaplan for First Bracelet (Lasvegasvegas.com)
4. Allen Cunninghan Becomes Million Dollar Man (Poker Player Newspaper)
5. Doyle Brunson Makes History (Fox Sports)
6. Canadian Annoucner Wins WSOP Bracelet (Poker Player Newspaper)
7. WSOP Crowns Oldest WSOP Bracelet Winner (Lasvegasvegas.com)
I taped my interview with Sean on Sunday morning for the Lord Admiral Card Club Radio Show and Podcast. If you don't know by now, it's the best podcast dedicated to poker in the universe. Over the last few months, I've become a huge cult figure in Canada. I'm happy to be a part of their amazing show.Sean and Brent are working hard every week to get their podcast done (for free) so stop by and show your support.
You can download the MP3 of this week's show... Episode 33: Here. (Right click and Save As)
You can download the MP3 of last week's show... Episode 32: Here. (Right click and Save As)
We discuss the fourth week of WSOP action including Doyle Brunson and other cool poker stuff. The Poker Prof is interviewed. Plus my brother Derek had his blog, Poker in the Weeds, picked as "Blog of the Week" by Sean and Brent. Congrats Derek!
If you want to catch up and listen to previous episodes, please visit their archives over at Brainscat. Stop by their site and download the extra nuggets. Thanks again to Sean and Stacks for having me on.
Office Space
Media Row: Otis, Dan (standing up), Pauly, BJ, and Heather
OK, I complained a lot about some of the harsh hours and my living conditions, but let me tell you about the folks I get to long hours with... they are some of the nicest and most hilarious people I have met. When you are covering poker tournaments for 15 hours straight, you must develop a good sense of humor.
Lisa from Poker Wire and I got into a weird conversation and it eventually steered towards sex. At one point I asked Lisa what the strangest thing she thought about during sex. She quickly responded, "Thinking about clipping my cat's toenails." That had us cracking up for a good ten minutes. It's never a dull here in media row.
Amy Calistri is always making me laugh. She just walked over to me and said, "Guess which poker payer has the biggest cock?"
Media Row: Otis, Dan (standing up), Pauly, BJ, and Heather
OK, I complained a lot about some of the harsh hours and my living conditions, but let me tell you about the folks I get to long hours with... they are some of the nicest and most hilarious people I have met. When you are covering poker tournaments for 15 hours straight, you must develop a good sense of humor.
Lisa from Poker Wire and I got into a weird conversation and it eventually steered towards sex. At one point I asked Lisa what the strangest thing she thought about during sex. She quickly responded, "Thinking about clipping my cat's toenails." That had us cracking up for a good ten minutes. It's never a dull here in media row.
Amy Calistri is always making me laugh. She just walked over to me and said, "Guess which poker payer has the biggest cock?"
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Sundays Are Fundays
The WSOP media director said that someone had been looking for me. Nolan explained to me that someone stopped by the media room twice to seek me out.
My initial response, "Was it a chick? And, was she hot?"
He laughed and told me it was a guy. My fan told Nolan that he was an admirer of my WSOP coverage on this poker blog, on Lasvegasvegas.com, Poker Player Newspaper, and Fox Sports. Unfortunately, he stopped by the only time I wasn't at the Rio. I have to work seven days a week and have not had a day off since I started covering the WSOP on June 6th. I've been trying to take half days off once a week. Because Friday did not have any final tables (a rarity), I took most of the day off and part of the evening to attend Nolan Dalla's book signing and meet Stu Ungar's widow Madeline Ungar and chat with Peter Alston. I missed the mayor by a few minutes.
The other night, like at 3 or 4am, I was playing in a MTT on Full Tilt. I know, I'm a loser. I live in Las Vegas and I sit in my room on dial up, playing online poker. The main reason I subject myself to that misery is so I can multi-task and read/answer all my email while I am folding all my junk hands. Hey, if I could take my laptop to the table at the Mirage, I'd be doing that. Plus it seems that the Rio is the last place I want to play cards when I get off of work. However, I'm always working late. Once I leave the Rio, I have two or three hours of writing a head of me at home. That's why I never go to sleep before 6 or 7am. Back to my point, I was playing on Full Tilt and some guy name Bdiddie (I'm sure I'm getting the name wrong, I apologize in advance) wrote in the chat box, "How's the Redneck Riviera treating you?"
Wow. I happened to be playing in a MTT with someone who reads my poker blog. Pretty cool, huh? I've been recognized by readers before, but this was the first time since the WSOP started and my readership has increased substantially since then. Too bad I was knocked out early. I also ran into a guy earlier in the week at the Rio who said the same comment about the Redneck Riviera. Otis can verify that strange, yet flattering experience. I also met Debbie that same afternoon and she had been reading my blog for over a year, probably longer.
One of my first fans, NYC Poker Babe, stopped by yesterday. She's been reading my blog since I started it almost two years ago. Anyway, she's in town for a few weeks so at least I have someone from New York to keep me sane. I also bumped into Bill Rini, who is in for the weekend with friends. Again, seeing familiar faces while I'm in the trenches is a definite morale boost. Earlier in the week, Hank987 and his wife stopped by to say hello. Ryan and his wife came by to see Felicia and stopped by to say hello.
Thanks to everyone who sent me nice thoughts and comments regarding my last post. I'm much better than you think. I use my blog to vent and articulate thoughts that are festering inside of the hallways of my mind. Once I get it out, I'm always better. I know that I got 2 weeks left and that rest assured, I'll be enjoying every waking moment that I have here. I mean, how many people get to have Doyle Brunson sit five feet from you while you are at work?
Random Doyle Brunson factoid of the day: He has one black crutch and on the top of the black leather handle, the words "Texas Dolly" are stitched.
I know a lot of friends have been worried about me. I'll be fine. I lose my shit once every two weeks, so it's expected. Jay Greenspan lost his mud the other day. The life of Otis has been a rollercoaster. Everyone who's been here for four weeks knows that at some point you get sick and you lose your mind. I've had both happen to me so I can glide into the final stretch. I'm prepared for the main event.
I'll get plenty of rest when the WSOP is over. I plan on partying for a day or so, then sleeping for a few days. The week after the WSOP will be devoted to relaxing with some time alone to write for myself and away from the blogs. I have friends coming in from New York City including Senor from Rhode Island, so I'll be much better once I can slip into tourist mode and hit up strip clubs with Grubby and wear obnoxious Hawaiin shirts. Plus I have some interesting side trips planned once the WSOP is over. I'll be staying in Las Vegas through mid August and in the meantime, I'll hitting up Santa Fe, L.A., and Boulder over a few weekends. I'm really excited to see Trey Anastasio Band play at Red Rocks with my buddy the Joker. Plus Sound Tribe Sector 9 is opening up for Trey so you know that show is going to be smokin' hot.
Oh, on an unrelated note, I saw a fight this morning, but I'll save that story for Monday or Tuesday.
The WSOP media director said that someone had been looking for me. Nolan explained to me that someone stopped by the media room twice to seek me out.
My initial response, "Was it a chick? And, was she hot?"
He laughed and told me it was a guy. My fan told Nolan that he was an admirer of my WSOP coverage on this poker blog, on Lasvegasvegas.com, Poker Player Newspaper, and Fox Sports. Unfortunately, he stopped by the only time I wasn't at the Rio. I have to work seven days a week and have not had a day off since I started covering the WSOP on June 6th. I've been trying to take half days off once a week. Because Friday did not have any final tables (a rarity), I took most of the day off and part of the evening to attend Nolan Dalla's book signing and meet Stu Ungar's widow Madeline Ungar and chat with Peter Alston. I missed the mayor by a few minutes.
The other night, like at 3 or 4am, I was playing in a MTT on Full Tilt. I know, I'm a loser. I live in Las Vegas and I sit in my room on dial up, playing online poker. The main reason I subject myself to that misery is so I can multi-task and read/answer all my email while I am folding all my junk hands. Hey, if I could take my laptop to the table at the Mirage, I'd be doing that. Plus it seems that the Rio is the last place I want to play cards when I get off of work. However, I'm always working late. Once I leave the Rio, I have two or three hours of writing a head of me at home. That's why I never go to sleep before 6 or 7am. Back to my point, I was playing on Full Tilt and some guy name Bdiddie (I'm sure I'm getting the name wrong, I apologize in advance) wrote in the chat box, "How's the Redneck Riviera treating you?"
Wow. I happened to be playing in a MTT with someone who reads my poker blog. Pretty cool, huh? I've been recognized by readers before, but this was the first time since the WSOP started and my readership has increased substantially since then. Too bad I was knocked out early. I also ran into a guy earlier in the week at the Rio who said the same comment about the Redneck Riviera. Otis can verify that strange, yet flattering experience. I also met Debbie that same afternoon and she had been reading my blog for over a year, probably longer.
One of my first fans, NYC Poker Babe, stopped by yesterday. She's been reading my blog since I started it almost two years ago. Anyway, she's in town for a few weeks so at least I have someone from New York to keep me sane. I also bumped into Bill Rini, who is in for the weekend with friends. Again, seeing familiar faces while I'm in the trenches is a definite morale boost. Earlier in the week, Hank987 and his wife stopped by to say hello. Ryan and his wife came by to see Felicia and stopped by to say hello.
Thanks to everyone who sent me nice thoughts and comments regarding my last post. I'm much better than you think. I use my blog to vent and articulate thoughts that are festering inside of the hallways of my mind. Once I get it out, I'm always better. I know that I got 2 weeks left and that rest assured, I'll be enjoying every waking moment that I have here. I mean, how many people get to have Doyle Brunson sit five feet from you while you are at work?
Random Doyle Brunson factoid of the day: He has one black crutch and on the top of the black leather handle, the words "Texas Dolly" are stitched.
I know a lot of friends have been worried about me. I'll be fine. I lose my shit once every two weeks, so it's expected. Jay Greenspan lost his mud the other day. The life of Otis has been a rollercoaster. Everyone who's been here for four weeks knows that at some point you get sick and you lose your mind. I've had both happen to me so I can glide into the final stretch. I'm prepared for the main event.
I'll get plenty of rest when the WSOP is over. I plan on partying for a day or so, then sleeping for a few days. The week after the WSOP will be devoted to relaxing with some time alone to write for myself and away from the blogs. I have friends coming in from New York City including Senor from Rhode Island, so I'll be much better once I can slip into tourist mode and hit up strip clubs with Grubby and wear obnoxious Hawaiin shirts. Plus I have some interesting side trips planned once the WSOP is over. I'll be staying in Las Vegas through mid August and in the meantime, I'll hitting up Santa Fe, L.A., and Boulder over a few weekends. I'm really excited to see Trey Anastasio Band play at Red Rocks with my buddy the Joker. Plus Sound Tribe Sector 9 is opening up for Trey so you know that show is going to be smokin' hot.
Oh, on an unrelated note, I saw a fight this morning, but I'll save that story for Monday or Tuesday.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Nevada Blues
Sometimes late at night the loneliness sinks in deep and buries itself underneath your skin. In the distance I see the skyline of New York City, but it's not New York. It's just the fuckin' casino off in the distance and sometimes I look up and see the collective fakeness of this place and it makes even more homesick. Depression looms especially when you let your guard down allow yourself to be swept away by the collective grief.
Las Vegas has a desperate side. It's the sad part of this bitter city that very few people live to tell you about. There are losers every where you look. Everywhere. In line at the buffet. Your cab driver. The old lady at the slot machine. The retarded frat boy wearing sunglasses at a micro limit poker table. And especially the hookers who work the bars at various sports books all over the city. These are the some of the lowest forms of life you will ever come across. It's like everyone's a crackhead but no one smokes crack. Instead of crack, you insert your vice of choice. Sports betting. Slot machines. Blackjack. Roulette. Craps. Poker. Every aspect of Las Vegas was built on loser's money. The bright lights on the Strip? Paid from your Grandma's losses at the slots. The gaudy facades of the megalithic hotels and casinos? Paid by your uncle's dice throws.
If you fly in one day and fly out three days later, you overlook the depravity. Folks like to say they love Vegas. Those are the same people who never ventured off the Strip. They never spent enough time to catch a real glimpse of this city. They don't get to see the look on the faces that a lot of the locals have after been haunted by gambling ghosts and demons for years. That hot waitress at the bar in the Bellagio, the one who kept flirting with you? She's not so hot after you realize she has two kids and goes down on Eurotrash businessmen twice a day to support her $200 a day cocaine habit. How about your favorite poker player, someone who might even aspire to be? He's not that cool after you realize he loses just as frequently as you do, except his loses are in the hundreds of thousands, not a couple of hundred and that the next tournament he wins was not motivated for his love of the game, rather he was motivated by the need to pay off his investors in a timely fashion and avoid getting his legs broken by Russian thugs named Boris and Ivan.
I am tortured by the distant buzzing of jackpot machines in my dreams. I hear the rednecks down the hall arguing about something peculiar. I can smell the urine soaked pants of a whino who passed out in my stairwell. I can sense my sanity leaving town on the next non-stop flight to JFK airport. Some nights I wonder if I will be able to survive another month of living here.
Sometimes late at night the loneliness sinks in deep and buries itself underneath your skin. In the distance I see the skyline of New York City, but it's not New York. It's just the fuckin' casino off in the distance and sometimes I look up and see the collective fakeness of this place and it makes even more homesick. Depression looms especially when you let your guard down allow yourself to be swept away by the collective grief.
Las Vegas has a desperate side. It's the sad part of this bitter city that very few people live to tell you about. There are losers every where you look. Everywhere. In line at the buffet. Your cab driver. The old lady at the slot machine. The retarded frat boy wearing sunglasses at a micro limit poker table. And especially the hookers who work the bars at various sports books all over the city. These are the some of the lowest forms of life you will ever come across. It's like everyone's a crackhead but no one smokes crack. Instead of crack, you insert your vice of choice. Sports betting. Slot machines. Blackjack. Roulette. Craps. Poker. Every aspect of Las Vegas was built on loser's money. The bright lights on the Strip? Paid from your Grandma's losses at the slots. The gaudy facades of the megalithic hotels and casinos? Paid by your uncle's dice throws.
If you fly in one day and fly out three days later, you overlook the depravity. Folks like to say they love Vegas. Those are the same people who never ventured off the Strip. They never spent enough time to catch a real glimpse of this city. They don't get to see the look on the faces that a lot of the locals have after been haunted by gambling ghosts and demons for years. That hot waitress at the bar in the Bellagio, the one who kept flirting with you? She's not so hot after you realize she has two kids and goes down on Eurotrash businessmen twice a day to support her $200 a day cocaine habit. How about your favorite poker player, someone who might even aspire to be? He's not that cool after you realize he loses just as frequently as you do, except his loses are in the hundreds of thousands, not a couple of hundred and that the next tournament he wins was not motivated for his love of the game, rather he was motivated by the need to pay off his investors in a timely fashion and avoid getting his legs broken by Russian thugs named Boris and Ivan.
I am tortured by the distant buzzing of jackpot machines in my dreams. I hear the rednecks down the hall arguing about something peculiar. I can smell the urine soaked pants of a whino who passed out in my stairwell. I can sense my sanity leaving town on the next non-stop flight to JFK airport. Some nights I wonder if I will be able to survive another month of living here.
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