News of the Weird

Blind man accused of having sex wih guide dog is weird on so many levels.

Seattle man dies while having sex with a horse is another bot that makes me feel all warm and fzzy inside.

Only in Oklahoma.... Drunk woman arrested for giving birth. I dunno what's worse... the fact she was drunk or was drinking Beast Lite?

Day 6 World Series of Poker Main Event

Well I finally made it to Binions despite another rowdy night at the Redneck Riviera. There was a big bust last night and Las Vegas Metro police swarmed the area. They took down a drug ring a couple of buildings down. These ragged drug dealers guys are more sophisticated than you think. There are two lookouts, a point man, the muscle, and the contact. The first lookout stands out front in the driveway with the point man who runs up to your car asking you how much "rock" or "tweek" you are looking to score. The second lookout is perched up on the third floor balcony of the bulding across the way. And the contact is the guy who gives you the drugs. He's the guy who hands over the rock. The muscle answers the door and pounds the shit out of you if you make one false move. I heard that the lookouts ran away while the muscle got shot and the contact and pointman were taken away in handcuffs.

Anyway, the laundry room was buzzing about the bust last night. One old lady was bragging that she was interviewed by the local TV station. All I could think was, "Who's getting hauled away next?"

Moving on...

You can read my recap of yesterday's action on Fox Sports. They gave me the headline: Lurking Shark.

I put money on Phil Ivey at 300-1 before this event started that was several weeks ago. I'm obviously rooting for him. The big story is Greg Raymer. If he can make another final table, he'll prove to everyone that last year's win was not a fluke. He's impressed me so far. He made one final table already this year and he's looking for his second. Of course everyone's attention will be on Mike Matusow. Will he maintian his chip lead? Will we witness the "Mike Matusow Meltdown?" As it gets closer and closer to the final table, the bigger the implosion will be... if it happens. Can Tiffiany Williamsen continue her Cinderella story and become only the second female to make it to a final table? Will Andy Black make Ireland proud or can one of the other 27 players remaining survive today's meat grinder and make it to the final table in hopes of trying to snag $7.5M. Can Phil Ivey a regular in the "Big Game" win his first big one?

Go visit my poker blog to find out!

Raymi = Yummy

Thanks to BG se nt me this post Interview with Raymi. Nice, very nice. I haven't been able to read her blog in weeks!

More Vegas Stuff

Last night I told the cabbie to take me to home. He flat out said, "I used to live there. You gettin' along with the hookers and drug dealers?"

I swear, the Redneck Riviera has a well-known reputation around town for being the place to get a $20 crack whore and a $20 baggie of rock. If it weren't for the strippers, I would have moved out a long time ago. But then I'd have no material. Who wants to live in the Rio anyway? Jay Greenspan has been here since Day 1 and he hasn't seen sunlight in weeks.

A couple of hippie kids (or spun out wookies as my buddy the Joker would say) moved in to the adjacent complex. There are at least five of them in a mini-school bus. I assume they are heading out East to catch the Trey Anastasio Band tour. There are two white guys with dreadlocks longer than Bob Marley ever had. There are three girls and two of them have hairier armpits than me. I hit on the clean shaven one.

Of course, they have a puppy. What is a neo-hippie clique without a puppy? The girls have weird names like Astral, Rainbow, and Jupiter. They walk around in a half-daze. I wonder what the fuck they are doing in Las Vegas?

Moving on...

The only time I spend outside is when I'm standing around sweating my balls off waiting for a cab. I walk for one minute from the drop off to the front of the convention center. Then it's a three minute walk down a dimly lit large corridor with doors to other convention rooms all over the place. Right now there are more pre-teens in town for a dance competition. It's nerve racking to see so many underage girls dressed up like strippers and the Hilton Sisters. I shuffle by numb to all of them.

I rush by all the tourists who are trying to buy t-shirts or get pictures of their favorite overrated poker pros. I glance at the hotties that the various poker companies hired. Imperial and Let's Poker hired college girls and they have that fresh girl-nextdoor look that I like. They wear tank tops and short jean shirts or skirts. Bluff hired models and actress wannabes who wear tight shirts and spread out all over the poker room and hallways. They are near perfect, but dumb as shit. Absolute hired strippers and porn stars. They have fake boobs the size of beach balls and I swear I must have seen half of them dance at Cheetah. When I walk past the, I have this strange feeling I've seen them in a dozen or so adult films. I like the hot Swedish girls that sell the poker chips. If I only spoke Swedish...

Hanging with Wil

Go stop by Wil's blog and read some of his latest entries. I was mentioned in one called doubled up inside. Here's a bit:

I hung up the phone and made my way to the bathroom. For the first time since I got there, I didn't feel the need to shove my way past the throngs of tourists meandering through the too-narrow walkways.

After a quick piss, I called Doctor Pauly, and told him the news.

"Oh man, I'm sorry." He said.

"Thanks," I said. "Where are you?"

"I'm paying too much for a chicken sandwich," he said.

I laughed, because I knew that meant he could only be in one place.

"I'll be right there," I said. Ninety seconds later, I was.

I hardly know Pauly at all, but I like him. We have poker, writing, blogging and getting busted out early in common, so he was the best friend I had in the room. It closed a circle to see him after I busted, because he was the last person to wish me well before the tournament began.... More

Some Vegas Stuff

I woke up yesterday to the sounds of things breaking. My wake up call this morning was a "domestic dispute" and it involved a meth-addicted couple up on the third floor of my unit at the Redneck Riviera. It looked like a scene from a bad romance movie. The skinny guy with bad tattoos was standing outside while his girlfriend threw all his stuff off the balcony and shouted obscenities. The last remains of a VCR were scattered on the walkway while he dodged the heavier items. Dozens of articles of clothing were spread out while several onlooker gawked until Las Vegas metro police showed up. I expected to see a COPS camera crew jump out of a production van.

Just another Sunday morning. Don't any of these people go to church?

I had a weird ride with a cabbie this morning. He looked like Stu Ungar and his name was similar to a friend of mine. Very freaky. If you don't know, the first novel I wrote was about a Brooklyn taxi driver. One of my favorite stories so far at this year's WSOP was my buddy Jeremey running into the chick from Taxi Cab Confessions. He was more geeked out about that then playing with Johnny Chan.