Detox, Dismissal, and Scooping Layne

"He's someone I definitely would have rushed" - (former fratboy) Showcase on Pauly

Our favorite doctor has left Los Angeles. I miss him already. It was one helluva 23-day ride and I don't think my brain cell count or my cholesterol level will ever be the same. Last night I slept something like 16 hours trying to recover. What a way to transition from 60-hour work weeks into the neublous sun-bleached daze of Hollywood unemployment. I think I need to spend this weekend sobering up and eating nothing but vegetables.

I know Showcase won't forget Pauly's visit either. He's still seeing Stacee! She came over to our place for dinner last night before they headed off to an improv show at the Groundlings. She sucked down three glasses of chardonnay along with her salmon filet as she made me insanely jealous with tales of Vegas weekends with her parents' high-rolling friends. Private jet flight out, comped suites, free spa services, the whole nine. Even Showcase's eyes were as big as saucers at the thought. I didn't hear Stacee slip out at 6 this morning for her drive of shame back down the 405, but I did hear some serious high-pitched gasps and moans as I drifted off to sleep last night. I don't think Showcase has stopped smiling for over a week now.

* * * * * *

Shortly before I was unceremoniously sacked from my Hollywood gig, I was nailed with Jury Duty after 6+ years of dodging the L.A. Superior Court system. I had postponed it a week when I found out Pauly would be in L.A., but couldn't move it again when he decided to extend his trip. So I had no choice but to roll the dice and just hope I'd get rejected. On Sunday night I crossed my fingers and called into the automated system thingy and did a little dance of joy when I found out I was off the hook for Monday. I did the same thing the next night when I wasn't needed for Tuesday either. But on the third day, I had to suck it up. My presence would be required at 7:30 AM Wednesday morning. This meant a 6 AM alarm. I groaned and made sad faces at Pauly. I honestly could not remember the last time I had to get up at 6 AM, though I could recall with astounding detail the last few times I had gone to bed at 6 AM.

I arrived downtown around 7:45, dragging my barely conscious body into the courtroom cafeteria for 24 ounces of bad coffee before heading for the jury room. I filled out my paperwork, pinned the "Juror" badge to my shirt and staked out a row of three adjoining chairs that I hoped to monopolize. No such luck. An older professor-type set up shop, laptop and all, right next to me. I curled up into my single chair and attempted to doze off.

After 3 hours of cramped uncomfortability and spotty sleep, my name was called along with about 30 others and we were sent up to the seventh floor and ushered into a courtroom. I took a seat in the front row between a young hipster guy and an old Russian woman. As the clerk began explaining the case and introduced the lawyers and their clients, I took note of the judge's name and it rang a bell in the far reaches of my memory. There was something familiar about it.

The judge took the bench and explained that this case would likely take over two weeks to reach a verdict. Oh no. I was not down with that. He asked for a brief show of hands of who would be able to serve for that length of time. Less than a dozen volunteered. The rest of us were asked to write our excuses down on a slip of paper. I made up some yarn about having a bunch of important job interviews in the next couple of weeks and said a silent prayer. The bailiff collected the papers, and the lawyers disappeared into chambers to look them over.

A few minutes later, the judge retook the bench and began dismissing jurors one by one as he leafed through the excuse papers. Finally he got to mine.

"Hmmm. There's something very familiar to me about your name."
"You know, I was thinking the exact same thing about yours."
"It definitely rings a bell."
"Do you have a son named Sean?"
"I do."
"Went to Harvard-Westlake?"
"Yes."
"And the University of Chicago?"
"Yes."
"I went to prom with your son."

The courtroom erupted in laughter. The Judge cracked up too and shook his head in bewilderment.

"You're dismissed!"

Best reason for getting thrown off a jury EVER. Eight hours of excrutiating waiting later, my service to the County of Los Angeles was complete.

* * * * * *

Now for a little poker content...

I am currently 0-13 in the $6.60 Full Tilt token SNGs, or, what my friend Facty has affectionately termed "The Marshmallow Peep Sex SNG." I certainly never knew that humping sticky, squishy sugary bunnies could sting so badly. I mean, a big fat donut hole? Is that really possible in these things? I was making an attempt to stock up on tokens so I can start working my way into some Full Tilt WSOP satellites for cheap, but it doesn't seem to be working. The Peeps hate me. I seem to run smack into monster hands at every turn.

I had some more terrible 3-6 cash sessions on Stars today. I flopped two pair a lot when others flopped sets and turned flushes. I flopped straights a lot when others rivered boats. And I turned a full house that made a guy's quads. Yay me. The bloodshed continues.

Variance. Ain't it a bitch.

Here's the weird thing. In the face of all the losing I'm doing at limit hold'em, I'm beginning to win consistently at Omaha Hi-Lo. I've been sticking to 2-4 and 3-6 limit, but took a shot at the 5-10 a couple of nights ago on Full Tilt when I saw that Layne Flack was sitting in. The presence of a pro like Flack, Erik Seidel, or Mike Matusow really draws out the fishies. I'd say a good third of the table had only a vague idea of how to play. I sat in for about an hour, and "hit it and quit" to the tune of +147. I also got to do this:



I was in the big blind, BTW-- lest you want to mock my cheesy hand.

If my lazy ass is up in time tomorrow, I'll be playing in the Stars VIP Freeroll at 12:30 PST. I cashed for a whopping $5.25 in last week's where I finished 72nd out of 1120 or so. I may also take a swing at Sunday's WPBT Player of the Year PLO tournament on Stars if I'm up to it after the $1M Guaranteed. This is a pretty cool little tournament series Byron is running for bloggers. Check out the details on his site. I'm a total fish at PLO, but Pauly gave me a few tips during his visit.

Who am I kidding? My buy-in is yours.