Sukkah Depot, Baba Ghanoush and Cameron Crowe

It feels like Vegas today. Ninety five degrees beneath a cloudless sky, the air thin, parched, and smoky. Though the billboards that line Pico Boulevard proclaim that Pechanga is the shortcut to Vegas, one deep breath outside today was all that was necessary to transport my mind up I-15. That, and the Party Poker Bad Beat Jackpot hitting $575K while I stopped home at lunch to play a quick hour session.

You know, I felt sorry for all my orthodox Jewish neighbors walking around in that heat in their black synagogue garb yesterday-- talk about a day of atonement. Plus all that davening. Sheesh. The all-white clad Kabbalah crowd heading toward Robertson seemed to be doing better than their conservative counterparts sweltering while queing up on La Cienega. But lemme tell you, this Shiksa loves nothing more than some good Jewish holidays. Yom Kippur-- that's a sublime day off from work. Passover-- that's some kickass brisket and an excuse to get drunk. So what's next. That's right kids. Stop... Sukkah time!

The Sukkah Depot just opened at the end of my block. Either there, or at any of the other roadside Sukkah stands that are sprouting up along Pico like Christmas tree lots in December , you can purchase a white canvas tent-like structure held up by large poles for about $99. According to Showcase, a certified Bar Mitzvahed Jew, people put these things up in their backyards to celebrate some sort of harvest festival. When I pressed him further, he said "look, I have important office busywork to do here in order to justify my existence! Look it up on Wikipedia!"

Well Wikipedia tells me that the Sukkot is indeed a harvest festival, specifically one remembering the time when the Jews were on their journey to the Promised Land, so they slept in these huts called Sukkahs on the way there. Ergo, once a year immediately after Yom Kippur, some Jews put these huts up in their yards and essentially live in them for eight days and nights.

Point is, all our neighbors have sukkahs. The ones immediately on our right started setting one up today and, as they did last year, plan to run The Godfather on a big screen inside the sukkah. And, being Jews, that means LOTS of free food. Seriously, last year we couldn't stop by for ten minutes without having half a dozen tupperware containers thrust into our arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday, I tried eating some of that macrobiotic Cyndy Violette crap. A new heath food joint called Solar Harvest opened up not far from my office and I decided to give it a whirl. I had never eaten half the shit on the menu. I mean, what the fuck is hijiki? And I wasn't really into an entree based around the "bean of the day." The "Mediterranean Platter" sounded inoffensive enough, so I ordered it, along with a side of lentil salad. I took it to go, went back home and fired up Party Poker as I spread out my healthy feast. The pita and hummus were good, the tomatoes fresh and the whole grain tabouli didn't taste too much like parsley. The lentil salad was pretty tasty if not a little heavy on the vinegar. However, to the side of this meal's colorful components was this heap of greyish glop. It almost looked like oatmeal, but had a more runny consistency. I grabbed the takeout menu to see what the offending substance might be. Baba Ghanoush? Wasn't that made of eggplant? This didn't look like eggplant. Was it tofu eggplant? No, an eggplant is a vegetable. There is no need to tofu-ize it.

I leaned in and sniffed the grey heap. It didn't smell like eggplant, then again, it didn't really smell like anything. My laptop beeped at me and I looked up at my table and folded a Jack-four offsuit. Then I googled "baba ghanoush." Sure enough, I was right about it's basis in eggplant! I like eggplant. So I took a piece of the pita and scooped up a big mouthful of baba ghanoush. You know that feeling when you taste something you clearly don't like but are in a position where it would really be a mess to spit it out? Well, that's how I felt as I winced at the distinctly non-egglplant taste of the alleged baba ghanoush hitting my taste buds. Just then, my table beeped at me again. Pocket kings. I clicked raise and scrambled for a napkin. No napkins in the bag! Fuck. My face screwed up at the runny, dull non-eggplant eggplant glop still on my tounge as my opponent three-bet back at me. I capped and made a break for the kitchen. No paper towels! There was no choice but to swallow. I nearly gagged and tried to concentrate on the pita part of the taste as I forced it down. What the fuck part of the eggplant WAS that? I chugged water and sat back down as the flop came out K-8-2. At least I won a nice pot, though my appetite for macrobiotic cuisine had definitely waned.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Right now, I'm loving the Elizabethtown Soundtrack. Tom Petty, Ryan Adams, Patty Griffin, Elton John, and other goodness. There's something about the song choices Cameron Crowe makes that just let you taste the themes of his films through music. They're also, more often than not, the actual songs he listened to while writing the scenes. Those who know my favorite films know that I'm wild about Cameron Crowe, but somehow, I just wasn't wild about Elizabethtown when I read the script about 2 years back. Crowe's films have a way of lifting me up and reminding me why I'm in the movie business, but this one didn't do it for me on paper. I'm hoping hoping hoping that the onscreen finished product changes my mind, but I have a feeling that I'm gonna walk out the theatre even more in love with the songs but frustrated by the picture.

At least if that sucks, there's great football this weekend. And someone's gotta hit that freakin' jackpot!

Change the Master and Slowing Down

Some guy called my office today to see if I'd be interested in giving a screenwriting master class online. I totally laughed at this dude on the phone, thinking it was some elaborate fucking joke that some biz friends may have orchestrated, but it turned out to be the real deal. Turns out some former colleagues recommended me. I'm still cracking up at the thought, because I don't consider myself a master at really anything, but if some fresh, eager L.A. transplants chasing the dream think it's worth it to plunk down cold hard cash to hear my advice, I'd say the least I can give them is the truth. Not in a bitter mean way of course, (like get out of town you naive dreamers, this place will eat you alive I say!) but I doubt I'll sugar coat anything. For example, if you want to "make it," for Christ's sake don't write some blithering indie ensemble drama because it's your "passion." Write Wedding Crashers 2. Because that movie will actually get made. Wait, that was too bitter.

I played my usual slew of SNGs last night, but I also hopped over to the Party Bad Beat Jackpot tables when I saw that it was up over $375K. I sat 2-4 for a little over an hour and picked up $130 for my first positive LHE cash game session in what seems like months. Granted, I haven't been playing Limit Hold'em on any sort of regular basis since maybe July, but did it ever feel good to book a winning session again.

You know what was the difference this time in my play? Nothing really. Except for the fact that I SLOWED DOWN. I thought things out. I didn't just pop in a raise on the turn (like every other California limit player) without stopping for a minute and thinking through the hand. I played tighter than usual, and I'm usually pretty tight. I didn't go too far with dicey hands. And I took my time with decisions. I think it made a HUGE difference in my play. Perhaps it was my real problem with limit all along.

I don't believe the jackpot has hit so I'll certainly be giving LHE another go tonight. With Hollywood closed tomorrow for Yom Kippur, I may even make my way down the 10 Freeway for a little Commerce action after blissfully sleeping in. If any LA Bloggers get the same jones tomorrow, I'll be the strawberry blonde girl in the Full Tilt hat sitting 4-8.

Donk'd: The Rehab Report, Week 1

If I were to write about this weekend at the tables, I'd have to write about bad beats. Yet, I don't feel like re-living them as my ass is still bruised where it was kicked again and again and again by the deck, and I know none of you really want to hear the gory details. All I'll say is that 7 of my 20 SNGs ended in bona fide, 90% to win or better, money in with the best of it, bona fide suckouts. Four were of the runner-runner straight or flush variety and that was really too much to handle in one day. So many of the tables I landed at on Party were just fucking weird. For instance, I don't think I've ever sat an $11 single-table there where 8 players were left at the $75-150 level. Now, I can say I've done it twice. For some reason, Stars and Full Tilt's donkeys at the $22 and $33 levels were far more beatable for me this weekend, especially in those late-night hours when I'm so glad I'm on west coast time because the east coast college kids are all playing silly at 5 AM. Here are the sad stats:

$11 NLHE SNGs: 17 played. 5 cashed. -$60
$22 NLHE SNGs: 2 played, 1 cashed. +$28
$33 NLHE SNGs: 1 played, 1 cashed +$48

Total SNG profit for the week: +$16

The worst of it is that of the 20, I didn't win one. Tres pathetique. But I will not judge myself harshly. Say that again. I will not judge myself harshly. There are 80 SNGs to go.

Micro Limit O8: -2.37 (59.25 BB). Still a donkey, but not hemorraghing cash at it.

Various LHE/NLHE cash games: -79. This number would be positive were it not for one hand. My rockets were sucked out in a 4-way capped pot on every street when the fish next to me rivered two pair after calling the whole way with QT. That was a $95 pot. But my $$ was in with the best of it the whooooole way.

Tournaments: + $27.22 I played one $11 one where I went out in the middle after picking up very few hands, though later in the day, I cashed in the $24+2 $6K Guaranteed on Full Tilt, which I entered via a token won in a $4.40 SNG. Finished 25th of 296 and picked up $42.62. Pretty happy with my play in that one, especially that I stayed aggressive near the bubble.

Overall Week 1: -$38.16. I think Showcase made more in $5 SNGs last night than I did all week!

And now, the first installment of...

Change's HAND OF THE WEEK

The Setup:

Here's an interesting situation I ran across last night. I'm in an $11 SNG on Full Tilt. It's the second level with 20-40 blinds. Everyone is still in with similar-sized stacks. I am dealt the Jh Jd in the cutoff seat. A loose player on my direct right raises to 120, or 3x the big blind. I re-raise him to 360. The button folds, and the small blind, whom I don't have a great read on yet, cold-calls the 360. The original raiser also calls 240 more. There is 1120 in the pot going to the flop.

The flop is Q 3 6, all spades and the small blind immediately pushes all-in for 1380. He has me covered. The first raiser folds. It's the rest of my chips (1080) to call here with 2500 total in the pot now. What's the right decision?

The Thought Process:

My first instinct in this situation is that my opponent made an all-in bet as a defensive move to protect his or her hand. There's no way he would have pushed in with a made flush-- it makes no sense. The all-in here is a bet that discourages action rather than encourages action, unless he's pulling some tricky move, but that also makes no sense at this stage and at these stakes. No way I'm giving him credit for being that creative/fancy. So I think he has some sort of a hand here, but it's very vulnerable. Likely an Ace-high or King-high spade draw with AK. He could also have a medium to high pocket pair, like TT, JJ, or QQ but I'm doubtful of AA or KK. Why not AA or KK? I think he would have moved in over the top of my raise before the flop. This guy wanted a flop with this hand. I also feel like TPTK with the AQ is also unlikely, given the out of position flat-call of my re-raise pre-flop. AQ is a pretty easy muck preflop in that situation.

The Math:

1. What price is the pot offering me? It's 1080 to call to win the 2500 out there. So I'm being laid about 2.3-1. I need to be sure that I have at least a 43% chance of winning here in order to call.

2. What do I have left if I fold? I'll have 1080 and be the table short stack, though it's certainly enough to work with at this early stage of the tournament.

3. What will I have if I win? I'll have 3580 and be the dominant chip leader.

4. How do my red jacks stand up to my opponent's potential hands?

JhJd vs. AsKd 52%/48% (Ace high flush draw)
JhJd vs. ThTc 90%/10% (underpair, no spade)
JhJd vs. TsTc 58%/42% (underpair, with spade draw)
JhJd vs. JsJc 32%/68% (we have the same hand but he has the spade draw)
JhJd vs. QhQd 2.5%/97.5% (overpair, no spade)

Since I'm in no way a math savant (though as I write this out, I'm realizing that this situation does make for an excellent case to become one) in these sort of situations, I find that I make my decisions more on "feel" and instinct than anything really specific when it comes to the math. In this situation, my read was that there was a very strong chance, perhaps more than 50%, that he was making a semi-bluff with the Ace high flush draw. The all-in bet this early in the SNG to protect a big pot out there, the frequency of which I see this move (and my read turns out to be right), and the fact that he did not reraise me before the flop to define the hand right then and there were all factors I weighed as the clock ticked down. In the end, I concluded it was a 50/50 situation; either I was crushed or slightly ahead. Plus the pot was laying me a great price. So I called.

OK, but was my call mathematically correct? After the hand, I ran the "Harrington Math" based on my thought process. I weighted the probability of each of the hands he could have-- I thought there was at least a 50% chance that he was on a semi-bluff with the flush draw, and I assigned 10% to each other hand where I was a huge dog (an overpair with a spade, an overpair without a spade, an underpair (TT) with a spade, the other two jacks, and a bluff).

Opponent's hand my % to win x prob. he has that hand

Ace high flush draw (.52)(.50)= 26%
Bluff (.90)(.10)= 9%
Js Jc (.32)(.10)= 3.2%
underpair w/ spade (.58)(.10)= 5.8%
overpair no spade (.025)(.10)= .25%
overpair w/ spade (.043)(.10)= .43%

Total probability for my hand to win: 44.68%
With the pot offering me 2.3-1, this was just enough to call.

So what would you do in this situation? And how did this hand end?

My opponent turned over the two black jacks and won the pot when the ace of spades fell on the turn. I was knocked out in 9th place.

I welcome any and all criticism.

28 Days

Thank you to everyone who wrote such great comments on my last blog. You bolstered my spirits and made me truly not regret my last post. As for the hole, it's patched, the spackling is dry, and tonight the paint goes over the whole mess. And for now we're done with Pot Committed: the Karate Edition.

As I was procrastinating returning a slew of phone calls this afternoon, I did some thinking about what my new short-term poker goals should be, and what sort of time period I should shoot for. And then it came to me.

Drug rehab lasts 28 days, so why shouldn't poker rehab? I'm checking myself in!

Halloween is 28 days from today. In addition to my efforts to stop mentally beating myself up after a bad run, I have five concrete, poker-related things I'd like to accomplish before October 31:

1. PLAY 100 SNGS TO BOOST MY BANKROLL. This will be my primary form of poker for this month, and for me, this is not an unreasonable amount to shoot for. Plus I fucking love these things. 75% of these will be $11 SNGs, 25% will be $22 SNGs. I'd like to play the vast majority of these on Party since they're softer, quicker, and I'm sufficiently 'rolled on that site already for this experiment. Not to mention the beauty of Pokertracker compatibility.

2. STICK TO A WEEKLY TOURNAMENT BUDGET. On Saturdays, I need my tourneys. Telling myself I'm not going to play MTTs is like telling myself I'm not going to eat chocolate. It just won't happen. In reviewing my results from the summer, I've actually been running well in MTTs and steadily improving my play. However, tourneys are the easiest way to piss away all that SNG profit. Ergo, I get two a week on Full Tilt, plus the 500 point freerolls, which are excellent practice. Also-- it hasn't been a problem for me lately, but playing tournaments during the week is not a good idea for me. I'll continue to stick to the weekends.

3. PLAY NON-HOLD'EM GAMES ONLY AT THE LOWEST OF LIMITS. I think I have Drizz and Princess Maigrey to thank for this idea. I was reading Drizz's post about the 0.01/0.02 PLO game they played last night and it reminded me that I had a few pennies left on Stars. 30 of them to be exact. I played some 0.02/0.04 Omaha 8 at lunch and the play was no better or worse than the 0.50/1 or 1/2 games at Full Tilt where I donked off over $90 last month. And I turned that 30 cents into 66 goddammit! This will be my new venue for developing my non-hold'em games, and I can do it with virtually zero bankroll pressure. Though I enjoy Stud, Razz, and Stud 8, October will be about Omaha. From everything I hear, online O8 games are great and getting better and in order to be able to take advantage of that in the future, I need to build my skills. Plus, O8 is funnnnnn and a great way to break the HE monotony.

4. PREPARE TO RE-APPROACH LIVE AND ONLINE LHE CASH GAMES. Not in October, mind you, but I'd like to take some time this month to re-read parts of Small Stakes Hold'em and Jen Harman's Limit Hold'em chapter in Super System 2, as well as continue to review my Poker Tracker data from that bad downswing I took earlier in the summer. Limit Hold'em used to be my best game. And I miss my crazy L.A. casinos. The games there are always good and I think they need a visit from me later in the fall. Even Hollywood Park.

5. POST A "HAND OF THE WEEK." It can be a winning one or a losing one, it should just illustrate an interesting poker situation I was involved in. I'll post the hand, analyze it the best I can, and welcome any comments or advice.

That's my plan and I'm stickin' to it.

Fixing a Hole

"Welcome to Osh Hardware, how can I help you?"
"Hi, could you tell me where I could find a drywall repair kit?"
"Aisle 15."
"And do you really have like, a kit or is there a bunch of seperate stuff I should get?"
"Well it depends. How big is the hole? Is it like a nail hole?"
"No, it's bigger than that."
"How big?"
"Like...foot-sized?"

Only an hour earlier, I had been sort of enjoying my Sunday morning, doing normal (for me) Sunday morning things. I was up, drinking Diet Coke, and playing a couple of SNGs on Party while CNN droned in the background. Showcase finally woke up around noon while I was on my third SNG. I had finished 3rd in one, 4th in the second, and was playing four-handed in the third with a healthy stack. He asked me if I was in the mood for breakfast at our favorite diner, which I was, and I told him I'd be finished within 15 minutes. Then I bluffed the wrong guy and lost about half of the stack I had worked so hard to build. And then two hands later, in a "fuck it" moment, I pushed in with JJ and got sucked out on a bad river card. It was a dumb-all in move, because I could have just raised and probably moved my opponent off his hand on the flop. But I was on TILT. Not just from the hand before or the morning's three disappointing SNGs, but from an entire weekend of hours and hours and hours of play with NO money. I logged off, closed the laptop and went into the bathroom, to steam and calm down and to try and get ready for our diner brunch.

That brunch would never happen, because the minute I shut the door, rage just consumed me. I was beyond pissed off. How could I spend this much time on my game and not be able to cash a fucking thing this weekend? I'm a smart person. I read all the fucking books, I analyze all my fucking trouble hands, I try so fucking hard but WHRE ARE THE WINS?! WHERE'S THE CASH?! I just wanted to kick something. Usually I'll settle for the rubber trash cans outside or my pillow-top mattress, but this time, the wall was the closest thing available, so I kicked the wall. I kicked it three times. And it felt pretty good. Unfortunately, I chose the same spot for all three kicks, so on the third one, my bare foot punched straight through the drywall.

Showcase was really pissed and he had every right to be. As I cried and apologized and promised to pay for everything, he said to me, very calmly, "You know what? You have a problem. Because now you're punching holes in our walls because of gambling."

Maybe I did have a problem.

At the hardware store, I bought a drywall patch, a small hand sander, a bucket of spackling stuff, and one of those spatula-like things that spreads the spackling stuff. I spread some newspaper beneath the size 7 1/2 hole, and started sanding the edges of the opening. Mike Matusow stared back at me from the cover of last month's Card Player, which was stacked on top of Lucky and US Weekly on the edge of the bathtub. As I sat and sanded, I wondered, is that what I'm bound for? Sick degenerate-land? Could I really be that bad or at least headed in that direction? And what had REALLY made me so angry, because we all know it wasn't just three SNGs or even 48 hours of sub-par results that made me kick the wall. It went much deeper than that.

Phil Gordon writes about the "Sick Gambler" in his new treatise on No-Limit Hold'em, "The Little Green Book." He says, "Sick gamblers are soothed by losing. It's the only way that they can confirm just how unlucky, undeserving, and cursed they are... They expect to get beaten. They expect the river card to help my hand. They expect that every time I'm on a draw, I will get there...They are going to lose their money, at this table, another table, or the craps table. Someone will end up with the chips." Matusow is a textbook example of this sort of behavior (though, perhaps in its most extreme form). Losing $200K on a couple of sports bets while in jail? Hurling a new laptop into the swimming pool after a bad beat online? That's a sick gambler.

Was I a sick gambler just because I kicked a hole in my bathroom wall? Probably not. But I certainly had been playing like one before I went postal on the lavatory. That morning, I had sat down at my laptop EXPECTING TO LOSE. I was expecting to lose because I had been running bad for about a week. I was expecting to get unlucky because I was having the kind of weekend where my set of nines would be sucked out by my opponent rivering a set of queens. How could I possibly expect to win when my mind was telling me that I was already a loser? Moreover, why was I feeling like such a loser? It's not like this was my first, second, or even fifth truly rough patch as a player. I hadn't even lost much money at all this week. Overall, I was positive for September! So the question wasn't really just WHY was I feeling like a loser, it was WHY NOW? And if poker could potentially make me feel this low and self-destructive, why was I continuing to spend so much of my time on it?

Why was I playing anyway?

I played my first hand of Texas Hold'em at a Friday night home game in late 2003 with a bunch of assistants from the office. I was in the middle of both a practical and an existential crisis, as my longtime boss had just left the company I worked for and within the next two weeks I was either going to finally and deservedly be promoted after 3 years of 60 hour weeks, or tossed out on my ass with a severance check. I loved Vegas and I loved Celebrity Poker Showdown (especially that cute host) so why the fuck not try it myself. I left that game at 5 AM with a fistful of twenties, having come in second in the tournament. Two weeks later, I was indeed promoted and let out a huge sigh of relief. I was an executive now, and though executives first and foremost try to conduct business over expense account meals, a lot of shit happens on the golf course, or on the basketball court, or on surfboards off Malibu Pier. Well poker could be my social game since I was in no way shape or form a golfer, a baller, or a surfer. And I loved it. I loved the game so much and started teaching myself in earnest. And I started to actually get good at it.

As I got more serious about improving my game over the next year, work started sucking. Not sucking as in, I was letting assignments slide or getting in trouble-- it just wasn't as invigorating for me as it had been in the past. Right before my promotion, I had been on a movie that was in production, but that film was finished now. I wasn't keeping such crazy hours and flying to location on eight hours notice and doing conference calls with writers in Europe at 4 in the morning. My time was more of my own and the time I now found myself with, I filled with poker. And the more I realized that my new gig wasn't everything I thought it would be, the more I played. Work sucked for a lot of reasons, but I think the main reason I started getting so bored with it was because my job wasn't the challenge it used to be. And I'm the type of person that needs a challenge (and to succeed at it) in order to feel complete and save myself from that evil inner critic I can't quite kill. I knew that even on days when my heart wasn't in it and I was running at half-speed, I could still do my film job well and no one would ever tell me otherwise. With poker, though, every single hand held a new intellectual challenge. It was pure. It was risky. There was huge potential for failure. And it sure was more fulfilling than reading half a dozen body-switching comedies per week. Plus, I could make money at it. And I did start making money at it.

So that was why I started to play. But what about the "why now?" Where had all that anger come from? It was actually so simple. I was angry at myself. I was angry that I had even sat down when I knew I wasn't in the right headspace to do so and I was angry about how I had subsequently played my hands and donked off my chips. I was still angry about how I had played a big hand the day before that ended up costing me a whole tournament. Most of all, I was angry that I had done all of these things when I knew better. No one is harder on herself than I am. And that really has to stop if I want to take my game to the next level. Beating myself up will only make me lose.

In "Ace on the River" Barry Greenstein wrote that good players are honest with themselves. As I sat on the edge of the bathtub yesterday afternoon, spackling over the now-patched hole in the wall, I realized not only how much pressure I put on myself to win, but also how the money had become too important to me. The monetary goals I set for myself were WAYYYYYY too big and long-term. Like "pay off school" and "get out of debt." Poker may eventually enable me to do those things (and I have paid off one card with poker money) but in order to be a consistent, winning player, I have to rid myself of thoughts that poker can solve my financial woes in the short-term. Yeah I got robbed and got a lot of shit stolen. Yeah my car is a piece of shit and my apartment building is falling apart. Yeah I'm 28 and I'm really sick of earning pretty much the same salary as I did when I was 21. But that's where I am right now, for better or for worse. It'll take a lot more than a couple of winning months to change that.

I hope I haven't terrified you all with my honesty. As a first step before returning to the felt, I'm going to think about some short-term goals that might help me re-focus my game. Hell, I think writing this post and "blogging it out" has helped me re-focus and identify some of my biggest weaknesses. But I'm definitely not going to play tonight, seeing as it might scare Showcase. And I don't think I'm ready yet. I might be in a day or two.

But not until I finish fixing this hole.

Poker Stars Blogger Championship

Now what could be better than a free tourney with a bunch of poker-obsessed lunatics like myself? Hammers will be dropped. Suckouts will be plentiful. Alcohol will be consumed.

I have registered to play in the
Online Poker Blogger Championship!

This event is powered by PokerStars.

Registration code: 7414439

What's an S-N-G?

The building next door to my office is being knocked down. Not imploded or anything, because that would be pretty hard to do without leveling a whole block here in congested downtown Beverly Hills. Rather, their process is more of the slow, painstaking wrecking ball variety. Every ten minutes or so, the floor in here vibrates much in the manner of an earthquake around a 4 pointer or so. The Big Man, true to form and consistent with the maturity level of your typical sicko rich guy mogul, actually made his assistant call the City of Beverly Hills to see if she could "make the noise stop." And when the city pretty much told the poor assistant to fuck off, The Man wouldn't stop at that. He had her get his lawyer on the phone. No word yet on if an injunction has been filed to stop the construction on the grounds that it is too annoying for one of Hollywood's Power 100 to possibly handle.

I've actually had to deal with work this week. There's shit to read and notes to write and research to do. I had a couple of drafts come in on the same day, so hopefully, this will be just one of those short bursts where I'm super-busy for a couple of weeks, and then I can go back to being my usual slacking poker-playing self. I've been playing a couple of SNGs each night, but that's all I can really get it up for right now.

Showcase, on the other hand, is doing quite the opposite. A few days ago, he got an email from Pokerroom (where he has a long-dormant account) saying we miss your business and we'd so like you to play again, and oh, here's a free ten bucks so you can get started but you have to accumulate 40 player points to cash out. Showcase loves nothing more than free money.

So he turned to me and asked quite innocently, " What's an S-N-G?"

Ahh sweet music to my addled ears! Even if he does call them S-N-Gs instead of SitnGos like us more seasoned degenerates.

Now Showcase only plays Limit Hold'em. Actually, he regularly destroys me heads-up. He's played the 3-6 at the Mirage and the 4-8 at Mandalay Bay and did OK. We even tried hitting Commerce a couple of times together, but his idea of a session is 3 hours and mine is about 8 so that never really worked. But he's never tried a SNG. Until now. We fired up Pokerroom and I showed him where the limit ones were, how to buy in, and told him to play super-tight until some donkeys knocked each other out. Then, if he felt stuck, I said I'd help him out.

Whatever. He didn't need my help. He came in 3rd in his first one and won the second! The only advice I needed to give him was to stay aggressive and play more hands when it got shorthanded. He's played six now and cashed in three. I think we have him hooked, people. Now we'll just have to see if he cashes out after hitting 40 points or comes back for more. I'd put money on the latter.

As I said to Rini, I'm 50% in for WPBT Imperial Palace. The only thing that could stop me is my company's holiday gala, which is sort of an un-missable thing, even if I'd rather swallow razor blades than attend. Things happen at this shindig. I was promoted at this shindig two years ago. And unfortunately, I still need a paycheck. I really hope it's not on the 10th.

Full Tilt Comcast

Comcast just cost me my tournament. I'm ready to throttle someone. In fact, I just came back in from outside, where I steamed for a full ten minutes and kicked some trash cans. Then I fell flat on my ass when I lost my balance.

The Full Tilt $10K guaranteed was MINE tonight, I tell you MINE! I was riding a nice chip lead at the end of the 400-800/100 level when my fucking wireless internet decided to crap out long enough for almost half my stack to be blinded off. When I got back on, blinds were 600-1200 and two fools had seemingly quintupled up and were riding 80-100K stacks, which was nothing compared to the 21 I had left. Oh, and one was directly on my right. Didn't pick up a single hand after that and finished 17th. At least I got in through a $4.40 SNG and didn't buy in...

As I mumble and grumble and take big big bong hits to get off tilt, Kathy Liebert is likely partying it up after her 3rd place finish tonight at the WPT Borgata. Though I'm not so sure that's how she rolls... Best ever finish for a woman in a WPT event, besting Jennifer Harman's 4th place at the Bellagio 5-Diamond last December. Mazel Tov!

I should tell Showcase it's safe to come out of his room now.

Week(end) in review and Vegas in December?

Bean has come and gone, putting an end to a fun, alcohol-and couture-soaked week away from poker. I don't think I've ever seen anyone drop so much coin on designer duds in one four-day period than Bean did on this trip. Can't blame her though, since I hardly think all of Western PA has the boutique selection of a single block of Robertson Blvd. We also selected some threads for her to take home to her adorable, but fashion-challenged boyfriend. We think the Seven Jeans will do him good, though Showcase claims that Sevens push the boundaries of male metrosexuality. This, from a man who owns "You Sing Stephen Sondheim."

The break from the tables did me good, and I had a profitable weekend online. Won a couple of $30 SNGs on Full Tilt and cashed a few others. Won a super satellite into next weekend's Full Tilt $25,000 Guaranteed tourney (which I'd REALLY like to do well in after bombing out in the last few of these). And then there was the 500 point freeroll-- with one seat awarded to the $200K Guaranteed at the end of October. I fell just short and came in 2nd out of 129. My opponent just had too big of a chip lead going into the final table to overcome, but I think I really gave him a run for his money-- our heads-up battle went on for almost half an hour even though he held about a 9-1 chip lead over me.

I just read Bill Rini'spost about the December blogger gathering in Vegas. I'm new at this blogging thing, but I sorta kinda wanna go and meet everyone. And seriously, like I need an excuse to go to Vegas? Especially when I'm only 4 hours away? I'm going to think on it seriously this week. Visions of that soft, touristy 1-2 NL at the MGM are dancing in my head and distracting me as I futiley try to concentrate on work...

I snagged some tix to the FLIGHTPLAN premiere from a biz friend so Showcase and I will be doing it up on the red carpet tonight. Party (and OPEN BAR) to follow at the Amanda Sheer Demme Tropicana Bar at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. This will be the first (and likely the last) time we are admitted to said venue. That is unless we're packin' some good blow and are on the bony arms of Lindsay Lohan sometime in the future. We'll try not to humiliate ourselves. Or at least return with a good story and a cameraphone photo for the Defamer.

Bean and the Sangria SNG

I picked Bean up at her hotel in Downtown L.A. around 7 last night. After squealing and girl-hugging like we hadn't seen each other in years (8 months but who's counting) I noticed that a horde of young geeky boys waiting in the cab line were staring at us. "Are those your co-workers?" I asked. "They're totally fixated on us." Bean replied, "yeah, that's just because they're not at all used to being outdoors, let along seeing two girls touch each other." We jumped back in the car and took off down 6th Street toward the west side, as the freeways were totally jammed. 6th is also kind of a great route for a quickie L.A. tour. We pass Alvarado Street, where I bought my first fake ID. And then Lafayette Park. You've seen the big fountain in movies. It's also famous for it's vibrant scene of narcotics salespeople. Koreatown is next as we continue west. Used to be sketchy, but now it's rapidly gentrifying. Reasonable rents make it home to countless unemployed writers and non-trust fund kids in the agency mailrooms trying to scrape by on less than 400 a week. And then, Hancock Park. A fancy east-coast town with curving streets and old-fashioned lampposts dropped into the middle of the L.A. grid. And finally, past the behemoths of Park LaBrea and up Crescent Heights into ever-crowded West Hollywood.

Bean is in L.A. for a conference. She works in sales for a small company in Pennsylvania that sells highly technical software to companies like NASA and Boeing. She knows nothing about software. I mean NOTHING. I honestly have no idea how she does her job, and if you ask her, neither does she. Don't get me wrong, Bean is smart. We both went to the same top-ten university. She was an art history major and was never inclined toward anything scientific or computer-related at all. In fact, she's a genius writer and I had always hoped she would pursue that in some way. I'm sketchy on the details of exactly HOW she landed this gig after working in art museums for three years after college, but it had something to do with her computer-geek ex-boyfriend hooking her up with the job when she was seriously in need of one. She's happy there, loves the people she works with and makes decent money. Pretty much the opposite of my job right now.

We met up with Showcase in WeHo and had some fantastic tapas and a pitcher of sangria for dinner. Stuffed mushrooms. Sliced steak on top of blue cheese potatoes. Fantastic bacon-wrapped dates. We caught each other up on gossip about all the snotty fuckwits we used to know in college, one of whom is now a national correspondent for NBC News. Showcase and I had seen him on television in a yellow rain slicker during the hurricane coverage. Bean was so surprised she almost fell out of her chair. "Ohmygod. Peter's on NBC? I kissed him once at a frat party freshman year and he told me he wanted to be a newscaster!"

After dinner, we drove back to our place and smoked a couple of bowls while I outlined for Bean the basic points of No-Limit Hold'em. I explained what beats what, the button and the blinds, how to bet and raise and some basic starting hands. Then we played a few hands heads-up and discovered that Bean has perhaps the worst poker face of anyone I know. She made it an early night since she had to be up early for her computer geek convention. After she left, I smoked some more. Then I had a beer. Then, apparently, I decided to play a SNG. I only know I played a SNG, because this morning I saw the results illegibly scrawled into my poker notebook in glitter pen. I think I came in 6th. I think I went out with kings. I think I called someone an assclown donkeyfucker. And then I passed out.

Sangria + SNG / Sensi Star = -EV

5-10 kicks my ass, and other weekend delights

Gotta make this one short. I have to duck out of la oficina in a few minutes and get on the freeway. Bean, my best girlfriend, confidant, and college roommate is in L.A. for four days and we're hittin' the town. First on the agenda is tapas y mucho sangria at this new place called The Courtyard in WeHo. Then either out again to some hip dive or back home for a few bongloads and a lot of catching up. I adore her. Think hilariously neurotic obsessively style-conscious JAP in Marisa Tomei's body. That's my Bean. So probably not a lot of poker this week, though she really wants a lesson so she can play her boyfriend heads-up.

The Full Tilt 5-10 LHE was full of retarded fish this weekend in the late-night hours. Got a lot of bonus cleared, but dropped about 25 bets. I know I made a few mistakes, but my hands were just refusing to hold up. Meh meh meh. Fishies win. Blech. Still doing well in SNGs and NL ring games and made up the losses there-- why am I not playing the hours I need at those tables and continuing to bleed at LHE? I'll post some hands soon and at least attempt a strategic post. Though it may be pathetic. I also polished off the Annie Duke book and have a lot to say about it. Review is brewing in my head.

OK time to make my escape...

Katrina Tournaments

The devastation in the wake of Hurricane Katrina has left me floored. I was glued to the news on CNN for days, something I don't think any of us have felt since 9/11. And in terms of the human toll, we know now that it'll be far, far worse. For those of us so far away, the best thing to do is to open our wallets. And for poker players, this is made so easy with all of the charity tournaments happening online. I signed up for one on Poker Stars and played the Friday one on Full Tilt. Didn't get tremendously far, though it was hardly the point. I was seated at Pauly's table early on and picked up a pot off him. I said hello, but I think he must have missed it in the chat box amidst all of the shoutouts from his legions of loyal readers and fans. I busted out somewhere around 280th in that one.

Ultimate Bet is running three more relief tourneys this week with buyins from $5+5 up to $150+150 and some cool prizes for the final table. There's a dinner with Annie Duke, private lessons from Antonio Esfandiari (Rocks & Rings not included) and of course, a truckload of signed Phil Hellmuth books up for grabs. Check it out.

I did manage to have a good weekend at the tables. I took third in two Full Tilt multis back-to-back, putting my tournament profits back in the black. Man it was good to make a couple of final tables after bubbling, bubbling, bubbling so many of these friggin' things over the past few months. You have enough of those and you start to think you don't even know how to play this game! I re-read the end of Barry Greenstein's book right before I played, and I think it made a lot of things finally click into place for me. I'm also continuing to rock the Party Poker SNGs for a nice profit. So while my NLHE play is steadily improving, my limit game still sucks ass. I managed to drop $200 two-tabling the Party 2-4 before winning about $110 of it back by the time I quit at 3 AM. I really have to figure out what the fuck is going on there.

Showcase and I also hosted an impromptu home game with two of our new neighbors, Scotsman and Iowa. Though I took down the first of our two SNGs with ease, I busted out first in the second one and became the perma-dealer. I was also drinking heavily. Iowa had bought my a forty from the local bodega, and being primarily a smoker, I was silly tipsy in no time. In the end, it came down to an epic heads-up battle in the end between Showcase and poker newbie Iowa, who had never really played the game before that night. Though I adore him, he didn't even know that KQ is a great hand heads-up. Of course Showcase lost. ;) But these things matter little to him, as I would have been pounding the walls if it were me. We're definitely hosting more of these. Especially if we could round up more people to play. But this is L.A. and Angelinos looove to flake.

I'll be bonus-clearing on Full Tilt tonight again, because lord knows that takes a while. That is if I don't have to read some idiotic spec.

Trip Report: Ladies Night @ The Bike

"You gonna win this thing for us?"
"I'm gonna try. Lifestyle change, remember?"

Just as I turned to head out the door for the Ladies Night tournament, Showcase stopped me. He grabbed the Brazilian voodoo rattle thing a friend had jokingly given us after the robbery to "purify" the apartment. He shook it, sang an impromptu chant and I spun around in circles. Then he grabbed all four aces out of the deck on the coffee table and rubbed them all over me. I promised to call in on breaks and headed for the car. I had given myself a whole hour to get to the Bike and just crossed my fingers that the freeways weren't a mess and that the air conditioning would hold up in the 90-degree heat. I fired up Prodigy and the White Stripes for the drive. 10 East, 5 South, 710 South.

I arrived with twenty minutes to spare. I signed my life rights over to Steve Lipscomb, bought in, and grabbed a Red Bull and a Zone bar from the gift shop. As I walked through the main poker room toward the Pavilion area where my table was located, I noticed a cloud of smoke hanging over the room and realized it must be the dry ice pouring out of the WPT set, which was not-so-subtly concealed behind tall black curtains in the far corner. The WPT Legends final table was in progress, broadcast throughout the casino via closed-circuit TV, albeit without hole card cameras, but with Linda Johnson's blow-by-blow announcing. Both bars were packed with people watching the action and chattering nonstop, speculating about what hands each player had.

"Kenna made his flush there."
"Nah, he's just betting the scare card. That other dude has about second pair."

I found Table 53 and got settled into seat 6, discovering that I narrowly avoided a VERY bad table draw. Alexandra Vuong and Sharon Goldman were seated only one table behind me. Sharon wore both a nose and a belly button ring to my surprise, her Birkenstocks further enhancing her hippie-girl vibe. She talked animatedly to a friend of hers about how much she hates playing live. We were about 20 minutes late getting started, so I just sat and tried to focus and calm my nerves a bit. Having not played a big tourney since the WSOP, I was physically shakier than I had expected. Sweaty palms and such. I was starting to regret the Red Bull. I breathed deep, threw Radiohead on the Ipod, and shuffled my stack of pink $5 chips. Were they specially made for us I wonder because aren't they usually red? As the cards went in the air, I noticed Pokerwire's Jen Creason at an adjacent table, WPT press badge around her neck, being sweated by Andy Bloch. There were a lot of male "sweaters" there, hanging onto the rail six feet above a pit full of poker-playing women. What a nice reversal. I was in heaven.

I picked up exactly two hands in the first two levels. I had AK in middle position, raised it up and was called. The flop missed me, but I threw out a continuation bet and my passive opponent folded. I was able to make a late-position steal with K8o a few hands later, but otherwise, nada. Just deuce-fours and jack-threes and other garbage. I went to the first break with pretty much what I started with, 800, give or take. I called Showcase from the bar and told him I was still alive. Still a little shaky, I decided that it was time to cure my sweaty palms syndrome with what one of my favorite dealers at Commerce calls my "Magic Corona" as it tends to loosen me up a little and unleash my inner Layne Flack. Which is what I needed if I was going to survive much longer. Rounds were only 30 minutes and the blind levels were pretty steep.

My table broke almost immediately after the break and I was moved into the main room. It looked like there were still about 30-35 tables left. Now I got a good look at which "stars" were in the house. Kathy Liebert was still in. So was Karina Jett. Barbara Enright had on one of her tradmark hats. I spotted Erica Schoenberg, the former MIT Blackjack payer who appeared on the Poker Royale: Young Bloods show a few months ago. Also Jeena Burnett from the final table of the 2004 WSOP Ladies, Allyn Jaffrey Shulman, Shirley Rosario, Shannon Elizabeth, and a stunning, tanned Isabelle Mercier who wore a cool customized black Pokerstars hoodie with the words "No Mercy" Mercier in white on the back.

At my new table was An Lee, who finished second to Jennifer Tilly in this year's WSOP Ladies. Several of the other women at the table seemed pretty intimidated by her. Since I was playing so few hands (because I was still not catching ANY cards whatsoever) she was giving me some respect. When I finally did pick up AQ and reraised her all in with 600 left in my puny stack, she folded pocket sevens to me. An was sweet and friendly, but very tough. She's only been playing for "six or seven" months. I asked her how she learned the game. "Books... and TV. That's really it. No one taught me." My heart sang.

Finally I caught a few hands and won a couple of uncontested pots and a couple where my opponent folded on the flop. Then no hands again for two levels. Just nothing. 24o three times in a row. 25. j6. Nothing I could do anything with because the blinds were getting to a level where any raise would commit me. Tried a couple of late position steals but got action and had to dump it when I missed the flop.

Down to only 425 with 50-100 blinds, I got A6 off and pushed. I was called by a steely blue-eyed lady in the big blind with A8. Flop was no help for me but I turned a 6. I literally jumped out of my seat and yelled "SIX!" I was still alive! I did the same with K9 of spades a few hands later and was called by A4. I doubled up again when I made a flush on the turn. It took tow hands where I was all-in with the worst of it, but now the cards started coming a little bit and I chipped up to about 6000 when the ante hit. An Lee went out after two brutal hands-- both times she had her shortstacked opponent dominated and both times she was outdrawn on the flop.

Once the ante hit people dropped like flies. I kept the music on, kept focused on my table, and tried to ignore where we were in terms of the money. I've had a recent history of not only bubbling a lot of tournaments, but becoming EXTREMELY emotional after doing so. And in most of those bubble situations, I wasn't playing aggressively enough when the money was in sight. I was playing to cash, not playing to win. I told myself that this time I was playing for first. That's it. I would not be a pussy when it got down to the bubble, I'd go out swinging. That focus helped me play very aggressively through the first three ante levels, even though I stll wasn't picking up big hands. I didn't see a pair higher than eights for the entire tournament, and the AK I got in the first level would be the only AK I got all night.

I had an M between 6 and 10 through most of 150-300/50 and 200-400/75, kept vigilant track of where it was and when it was getting critical, and realized that at least seven of my ten opponents had no concept of inflection play or low stack play. They seemed only willing to go all in once they were down to a desperation level. As a result, I picked up a lot of pots by reraising all-in before the flop and on the flop. Going to the third break I had about 8000. I called Showcase again and he was so psyched I was still alive.

Break ended and I was moved to my third table. Eight tables remained and five paid. Blinds are 300-600/100, so it's 1800 a round. About 15 minutes into the level, I picked up J9 of diamonds on the button after everyone folded to me. I had just won a nice pot, so I decided to just raise and hope to pick up the blinds and antes and bust the big blind, who would certainly be all in on this hand. I made it 2600 to go and the small blind, a very chatty, very butch lesbian gave me a "what the heck" look and called. She was playing a lot of pots, but could be moved off a hand when she missed the flop. The big blind pushed in as I thought, which didn't even cover the raise.

The flop came 8-T-6 no suits. Lesbian checks to me, BB is all-in. I feel like lesbian missed with big cards. She would have certainly bet a pair. I have a little less than 6000 left. Lebian has me covered, but not by much. I move in on the flop. She thinks for about 30 seconds before saying "I think I need to gamble" and calling. Now I know I'm toast. Lesbian turns over AQ, BB has 26 of hearts. None of my 14 outs hit and after an excrutiating count by the dealer to make sure she had me covered, I'm out in 54th place. Nine out of the money. A WPT camera recorded my entire bustout, even following me out of the tournament room. Thankfully I was graceful, took it very well, and wished the other ladies good luck. I stepped into the Ladies' Room and saw myself in the mirror as I waited in line. I was smiling. I hadn't even noticed.

After washing all the chip scum off my hands, I peeked back inside the room to see if I recognized anyone still remaining. Karina Jett and Barbara Enright were the only "name" players left. I had outlasted Liebert, Mercier, Goldman, Vuong, Lee, and 91% of the field. So what if I wasn't taking home 170 bucks had I clammed up and folded into the money. I probably could have done that. But it was never the plan for me. I was giving myself the chance to win the thing. Had I hit that last hand, I would have had well over $20,000, been top ten in chips, and really could have gone somewhere with it. But I felt fine. And that was so strange. I guess it's like when a runner makes his first 9-minute mile. It's faster than he's ever ran, but now he's set a new record to beat.

So that's what I'm looking at last night as. A personal best. 54th out of 566 is nothing to be ashamed of. Percentage-wise, it's my highest finish in a major live tournament and I've played fewer than ten. I've had dozens of online final tables and three outright wins, but I feel better about this finish than any of them (well, maybe except for winning my WSOP seat) not only because I played well and never gave up, but for the way I handled myself psychologically and emotionally. There were no tears for Change tonight.

At valet parking I saw Mike Sexton and the new Shana Hiatt, Courtney Friel. She looked sort of plastic and had a clear affinity for spray-on tanning. Shirley Rosario also waited for her car, puffing on a clove cigarette. I spotted a cute redheaded girl who was at my table and went over to her. She had busted only four out of the money, but also seemed OK about it. She asked me what I had when I pushed in on her preflop a few hands before I had busted. I had AJ. Turns out she made a good fold, mucking A9 suited. We chatted as we waited for our cars and she told me I should try out the 2-5 NL at Commerce. In turn I told her to show up around midnight on a weekend and check out the limit games if she ever felt like taking on some intoxicated donkeys.

I drove home with "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab for Cutie on repeat. The freeway was clear and the city quiet. I arrived at my door shortly before 2 AM. Showcase was asleep and for the first time in weeks, it wasn't unbearably, psychotically hot inside my apartment. I was wired and more awake than I'd felt all day. I was never going to sleep tonight. So I smoked a fuckload of pot, fired up Party Poker, and destroyed a SNG. This time, there was no need for a Magic Corona to turn on the Layne Flack switch. I just left it all out on the table. Unbelievable, I know, that I'd want to play MORE poker after six hours in a tournament, but I did. I love this game. I love learning it, I love knowing that I've improved a lot this year, and I love that it's hard. I love that 566 ladies showed up and played some great poker last night. Most of all, I love that I met so many great women who love playing as much as I do. Though I don't think I've seen so many lesbians in one place at one time outside of a bar on Santa Monica Boulevard.

So no lifestlye change tonight, but perhaps an even better mental one.

The Politics of Ladies Night

My first boss in Hollywood gave me a Ten Commandments of sorts when I started in the industry to guide me through all the angst and fear and nausea I was sure to experience in the coming years. The first one, of course was the most important principle for anyone to understand when entering a business completely based on perception, self-promotion, and the acquisition of money. It's really very simple. Hollywood is not a meritocracy. Think about it for ten seconds and you'll realize how true it is.

Like many in the poker world, I was pretty surprised when this year's lineup for WPT Ladies Night was released. I'd long been speculating about who would be included, especially given that most of the "name" female players had already participated in the first two seasons' outings, and thus, would likely not be included a second time. This time, the powers that be had to think a little deeper. So with Harman, Duke, Liebert, Violette, Gowen, Ng, et. al on the rail, upon whom would Steve Lipscomb and Co. bestow the four golden tickets? Isabelle Mercier already has hers punched as defending champ. And of course, there's the one slot I'm estimating about 600 of us will be competing for tomorrow night. But for those other four slots, like anything in life, or in Hollywood, it's all about casting.

So how does the "invitation-only" lineup shake out? We have Marsha Waggoner, Cecelia Mortensen, Aidiliy Elviro, and Jennifer Tilly. Some of those choices are surprising. Others I wish I had sidebet on before the press release came out.

In the movie business, we love lists. Writers lists, directors lists, cinematographers, composers, and, of course casting lists. We make them, pore over them, and discuss them ad nauseum. It's really how we justify our presence and salaries as development execs. So let's take this showbiz process and apply it to Ladies' Night. What would this "casting" list look like? I guarantee you someone at WPTE made one.

First rule of the casting list. You throw everyone on there that's remotely appropriate and pare it down from there. Sometimes we call it the "kitchen sink" version. Off the top of my head, mine would look like this:

Nani Dollison
Aidiliy Elviro
Barbara Enright
Patty Gallagher
Kristy Gazes
Melissa Hayden
Karina Jett
Linda Johnson
Connie Kim
Kathy Kolberg
Jennifer "Jennicide" Leigh
Liz Lieu
Cecilia Mortensen
Erin Ness
Carmel Petresco
Lucy Rokach
Jennifer Tilly
Jerri Thomas
Mimi Tran
Marsha Waggoner
Renee Wexler

Who had a particulary great year among these ladies? Gazes and Jett racked up some major finishes, Kristy in the Full Tilt Championship and Karina in the London Open. Mimi Tran made 4 of her 10 WSOP cashes just this year. Liz Lieu, typically a high-limit cash specialist made a final table in the largest preliminary event field in WSOP history. Surely these accomplishments should factor in.

Johnson probably can't play because of her role as WPT commentator, as much as we'd like her at the table. So she comes off the list. Patty Gallagher would be entertaining for sure, but they'd have to have a producer on standby to bleep out all those f-words. Ness, by her own admission isn't a pro and though she may have a great future in the game, she's too green for this crowd. Same with Petresco, Leigh and Kim. Good players all, but maybe next year for them.

Next, let's think about each "slot." What roles are we trying to cast here? I'm guessing the stucture isn't too rigid, but based on last year's lineup, it looks something like this:

1. Defending Champion (Clonie Gowen)
2. Bicycle Club qualifier (Lavinna Zhang)
3. "Superstar" player (Cyndy Violette)
4. Up-and-comer/cash specialist/ TV-table bubble finisher (Sharon Goldman, who took 7th in the 2004 WPT Invitational)
5. Up-and-comer/tournament specialist (Isabelle Mercier, who had just turned pro and was already a somewhat familiar face to audiences from WPT Paris)
5. Representative of the "old guard" (Wendeen Eolis)

So it's essenitally a split between newer players on the circuit and experienced pros. We take that into consideration and narrow our list. Which is when the third element comes into play. Who does the audience want to watch? In other words, what combo makes for the best TV?

As a representative of the "old guard" of more experienced pros, Marsha Waggoner is an excellent choice. 2 WPT cashes, 16 WSOP cashes, 7 WSOP final tables, and a 2nd place PPT finish this year at Bay 101. She's aggressive, colorful, consistent, and married to Cowboy Kenna James.

Cecelia Mortensen is another fantastic choice, this time in the "up and comer" category. 5 WSOP cashes, 2 WSOP final tables including one this year, and 1 WPT cash. I watched her at the WSOP this year and she's definitely a force to be reckoned with and possibly the player I'd fear the most at that table. And she's married to 2001 WSOP champ Carlos Mortensen.

OK so we need two more. A superstar and a rising star. Here's where the casting gets a little funky for me.

In the role of the superstar we have a Hollywood star, WSOP Ladies' Champion Jennifer Tilly. A monkey could have predicted this. You can make the case that the WSOP Ladies Champ should automatically be included in the lineup, but if so, where was Crystal Doan last year? Hmmm... manicurist or Academy Award nominee? I wonder. No other major finishes to speak of for Tilly, but come on, you knew the minute she won that thing she was getting an invite because she's famous. WPT needs those ratings more than ever this year. And she's dating the Unabomber.

Our other rising star is Aidiliy Elviro. She started playing major tournaments only this year and has a nice short-term record with one cash from the WPT Reno event and one other cash in a $1K NLHE event in Tahoe. And she's married to Michael "The Grinder" Mizrachi.

Now do you see this year's theme emerging? I don't know who Isabelle Mercier is shacking up with, but all four of her invited competitors are dating or married to some of poker's biggest names! This includes 3 WPT Champions, two from just this past season. (Mortensen won the Doyle Brunson North American Championship in October 2004, Mizrachi the L.A. Poker Classic in February 2005, and "Unabomber" Laak the WPT Invitational in February 2004).

Moreover, how do these "casting choices" reflect the female poker-playing world today? WPT Ladies Night is arguably the most visible women-only tournament on the planet. Does it say that dating a poker "star" is the best road to success for female players? It sure seems that way by this lineup. And while I can't deny the playing abilities of any of these women, as they've all won far more money among them than I could ever dream of, I'd bet my whole bankroll that aside from veteran Waggoner and famous-actress Tilly, the successes of Elviro and Mortensen's husbands on the WPT had a helluva lot more to do with their invitations to this event than their own successes would have dictated had they been married to "non-pros" or evene "non-name" players.

To me, it's distressing, but not unexpected. The minute poker crossed into the mainstream of American Celebrity Culture, poker's status as a true meritocracy was doomed. It's becoming like anything else in the media. The most famous, the most dramatic, the most scanadlous, and the most connected get all the attention. Like US Weekly covers and reality shows and clothing lines. Or, in poker's case, televised freerolls.

So who should be in there that isn't? I think the biggest case can be made for Mimi Tran, as she's by far the most successful American player not to make the lineup. But despite her amazing skills at the table, she doesn't necessarily make for great TV. And yes, that is a major factor. Even though she does have a famous-player mentor in Barry Greenstein.

Thinking about all of this brings me back to an issue I touched on in my earlier post on Women and Poker. Female players with male mentors vs. self-taught female players. Is it easier for women to find success in the poker world with a male mentor than without one? Aside from Jennifer Harman, who are the female players out there enjoying great success in either cash games or tournaments who haven't had the benefit of one? Poker is a steep, steep mountain to climb without a guide, and I want to know who those ladies are who are scaling it alone. Like I posted before, it's great if you have a mentor or a teacher. Anyone in any field should be so fortunate. But for developing female players online and in cardrooms across America without such benefits, seeing a table full of famous players' wives doesn't exactly offer inspiration. Isn't that the point of these things anyway? To get MORE women playing?

Well, I'll be at the Bicycle Club for sure tomorrow night, trying to grind my 800 in starting chips up to the final table. I've never played a Ladies' event before, so it'll be interesting to see how I fare against my fellow women on the felt. And whether it's me or Shirley Rosario or Shannon Elizabeth or some other fabulously aggressive lady we've never heard of that makes it through the field and onto the WPT set one thing's for sure. It sure as hell won't be easy. And in poker, nothing really should be. It's why we play, right?

I wonder...

Is this the monkey who knocked me out of that Poker Blue WPT Legends freeroll?

Moreover, is the costume voluntary or required?

What's even stranger is the web page that pulls up when you go to www.pokerblue.com. Now I'm REALLY glad I cashed out from there last week.

I'm still alive

Ten days since my last post. How shameful.

I wish I could say I was on vacation or in Vegas or another exotic locale, but really I'm just ticking away the rest of the summer playing poker and bumming around Los Angeles. Now you know you've spent way too much of the summer indoors when your co-workers start asking if you've dyed your hair. I get blonder in the summer and redder in the winter and my hair is probably the most strawberry it's been in recent memory, aside from that tragic auburn period in college when I couldn't stop trying out each and every shade of the L'oreal "Feria" line. So perhaps this Labor Day weekend, I'll have to finally tear myself away from the cards and deposit myself on one of our world-famous Southern California beaches.

I finally got myself entry into a bona fide Hollywood poker game at my friend Charlie's birthday dinner last week. Charlie's a producer, and his wife, Mrs. Charlie is a writer so the crowd was a little Hollywood, but not in a gross way. Some actors, photographers, other writers, and even more folks totally unrelated to film or TV. They're that rare couple that succeeds so much in the "business" yet have a fantastic, full life away from it. Which explains why Showcase and I are so nuts about them. The whole affair was a surprise orchestrated for Charlie and I must say, based on the look on his face when he came home to a backyard full of 25 of his nearest and dearest pals, we got him pretty good.

As we were digging into the salad course and polishing off our third round of mojitos, Showcase and I were chatting amongst ourselves, when I thought I heard someone say the word "flop." I kind of brushed it off until I swore I heard the same lilting British voice say "Vince Van Patten." Now, my head spun around at a blinding speed and I zeroed in on the speaker.

Me: "Ohmygod do you guys play poker?!"
The Brit: "Yes, do you?"
Me: "You have no idea."
The Brit: "That's fantastic!"
Showcase: "Seriously, you guys REALLY have no idea..."

What ensued was just an awesome meeting of the minds, and what I hope will be a great friendship. I'm sure my fellow bloggers understand what it's like to meet someone just as poker-obsessed as oneself. There's a clarity there. And kind of a sense of relief. Sort of like vacationing in a foreign country and finding that one cab driver that speaks English. So by my random choice of seating at this dinner, I had stumbled onto an entire band of poker-playing Hollywood power lesbians. And now I had a permanent invite to their "girls game."

The whole lot of us will be invading the Bike's $100+25 NLHE Ladies' tournament on Wednesday. I'm taking the whole day off to sleep in so I'll be sharp for the 7:15 PM start. This is the one where the winner qualifies for a seat in WPT Ladies Night III, so I imagine it'll be a pretty large field. I'm feeling good about my game right now, so it's great timing for me to try another large live tournament.

In preparation, I've been playing nothing but Party Poker SNGs with the (small) remainder of cash I had in my account. I think I knocked off maybe 30 just this weekend and increased my nut five-fold. I hadn't really explored the Party SNGs until now, prefering the structure and starting chips of Full Tilt's, but let me tell you (and Iggy has repeatedly attempted to beat this same notion into everyones' heads): if you are not playing on Party, you are deeply and profoundly retarded. The $20s are VERY soft and the $10s are just shooting fish in a barrel. Don't say we didn't warn you.

Showcase and I also continued our heads-up matches this weekend. I trounced him 2-0 in No-Limit, until this hand came up in the third match. I have QQ in the SB and just call. Showcase checks. Flop comes J-2-9, no suits. I check, planning to check-raise, and Showcase saves me the trouble by going all-in. I insta-call with my overpair, and he turns over... 36 of clubs? I instantly start gloating, and begin "announcing" the hand, Mike Sexton-style.

"OK, Change has an overpair, and Showcase has a, uh... backdoor flush draw and a backdoor straight draw. He'll need running clubs or a running 4 5 for a straight. Here comes the turn. OOOOOHHH, the turn is a five of spades, giving Showcase a small ray of hope here. He must catch a four or this match is history, and Change will walk off with the title. Here comes the river... IT'S A FOUR!!!"

I dropped the deck and my head sunk to the table as Showcase jumped up from the couch, stretching his arms upward in triumph. After a brief, geeky victory dance, he got to use my favorite line from Rounders on me, for a change.

"I steeeeeck it innnn youuuuu!!!!"

Why we call him Showcase

"Whatever you do, just PLEASE don't make me seem gay!"
--Showcase, upon hearing about this post

I met Showcase back in college, when both of us were overconfident theatre majors. I caught my first glimpse of him in the lobby of the theatre building sometime in the first week of school, after "Generals"-- the nerve-racking fall audition process for every show that would be mounted that quarter. Freshmen were rarely cast in anything to start off, but there he was, initialing beside his name on half a dozen callback sheets. SO smug, so happy. Add that to the fact that I wasn't called back for anything, and my first impression of Showcase equals asshole.

A few days later a girl in my dorm introduced me to her best friend from home who lived just down the hall from us. It was Showcase. But this time, we became fast friends. I had a sickeningly large collection of original cast albums at the time and we began a tradition that continues today-- "musical theatre night." All it really consisted of then was the two of us playing different showtunes on the Aiwa mini-stereo I had received for my high school graduation and taking turns singing along with our favorites at the top of our lungs. Showcase would do "Mr. Cellophane" or "One Song Glory." I'd answer that with "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" or "Being Alive" or even "Vanilla Ice Cream," just so I could show off with the high B at the end. Nowadays, we have a karaoke machine. Well, actually two. I got Showcase one for Chanukkah a couple of years back only to have my parents gift me with the exact same machine (down to make and model) on Christmas. So we keep the other one in the bathroom.

But that's not really how he got his name.

The two of us became roommates only a little over a year ago. I hadn't wanted to live with him up until then, though we had discussed it a number of times. Neither of us had a good history with people we'd lived with, and I really really really didn't want to screw up anything with us. But he was living with this bipolar fuckup of a kid who would drink two bottles of $5.99 wine from 7-11 every night before passing out on the living room sofa. At some point in the middle of the night, he would inevitably need to urinate having injested so much liquid, and in the state he was in, he'd seemingly forget where the bathroom was located in the apartment. Sometimes he'd pee himself, still prone on the couch. Other times, he'd aim into the kitchen sink full of dishes.

Well Showcase couldn't handle the urine, so we moved in together.

The name came later. He's an actor and a comedian, dramatic by nature and almost always "on." Each story is a monologue, each hummed tune an aria. To him, at least. A vertiable 24-hour talent "showcase."

At the moment, he's shirtless and barefoot, crooning "Put on a Happy Face." Well, perhaps crooning isn't the right adjective. He has broken out into full-on performance mode, as if our scuffed, slightly dusty harwood floor were the Winter Garden stage.

"And now, I'm going to sing about the gayest song ever. While our neighbors are home, mind you." I constantly tease him that he doesn't sing nearly as much as he used to since two cool straight guys moved in upstairs a couple of months ago. He was about to prove me wrong, at least for tonight.

A lilting string intro poured out of the speakers, and then, in full baritone-- "ohhhh what a beautifful morrrr-nnningg, ohhh what a beautiful day."

And I'm right at home.

Seven and a half hours of WPT Satellites

My dance card was full today. A week or so ago, I had stumbled upon Iggy's post about the massive overlay in the Poker Blue WPT Legends of Poker Freeroll promotion they were running and last night I finally made my deposit and quickly knocked off the four hours of play required to qualify. Doubled my deposit and then some three-tabling $1-2 LHE. The play was spectacularly bad. But then again, so was the site interface. The monochromatic look to the place (they're not kidding about the "blue" part) made it difficult to keep track of where I was sitting, which players had cards in front of them, and where the button and blinds were. Compounding this, was the inability for players to rotate the table (so I could at least be in the same spot at both tables) as well as the absence of avatars or any sort (so I'd have a point of reference or something to focus on). In addition, there's no note-taking function that I can find, and I searched all over the website and still couldn't find the tournament structure before the event began. But, this was a free 1 out of 138 chance at a WPT seat. I feel ahead already.

I couldn't have played any better than I did, and feel I made good decisions. The field was VERY weak-tight and I cruised through the first couple of hours, never falling below average for very long. By the second break I was in the top 20 and with 25 players to go I held the chip lead with $12,200. Blinds were up to 400-800 and as we got down to the final two tables, I kept hovering between $12-14K in chips. In early-middle position I picked up AK and made it 2500 to go. The chip leader called from the BB. Flop comes out K 8 6 all diamonds. I don't have a diamond, but lead out anyway for 3000 with TPTK. It's risky, but I'm going to find out right away where I'm at. The way this guy is playing, I feel that if he flat calls, I'm in deep shit/likely facing a made flush and can just get away from it on the turn. If he doesn't have a diamond at all, he'll just fold right here. If he raises, it's defensive. Well raise he does, pushing all-in and it's $7000 for me to call. Instinct tells me he's semi-bluffing with just the ace of diamonds (AK, AQ, AJ, AT, A8, A6 or the like). I know that's what I'd do in this spot when the blinds are high and it's a winner take all situation. I call and he turns over A4 of diamonds for the flopped nut flush. I even got another ace on the turn, but no miracle full house on the river. And I'm out in 16th.

It was stupid to call off my chips, but I felt like I had to really gamble it up in order to get the chips I needed to win the thing. I didn't pick up AA, KK, QQ, JJ, TT, AQ, or AJ once the entire tournament. For the cards I was dealt, I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did. Then again, the skill level was hardly anything to fear. I'd say half the field were fellow Angelenos and Southern Californians looking for some late-August excitement down at the Bike and two grand we wouldn't have to spend on flights and hotels and rental Toyotas.

After that, I hopped over to Full Tilt and rubbed salt into the wound by playing a little Razz. $30 down the drain in as many minutes in two very close pots and the nausea rises. Starting. To. Tilt. So I go to Taco bell and get one of those Crunch Wraps. Man, those things are from heaven. A fantastic tilt band-aid.

So, feeling a bit better, I sign up for the $24+2 satellite into next Sunday's WPT Borgata Super. Again, I cruise for two hours, barely facing a major decision. I had decent enough cards, position raises were working, and I was especially proud of one really spectacular bluff (an area I've been working on). We're down to 14 from 80, 11 spots are paid and 8 seats are awarded. I'm sitting in 6th or 7th with 9100 in chips. Blinds are 200-400/50 and the table is seven-handed. I pick up KK UTG+1 and raise it to 1200. The button flat-calls and the BB calls.

Flop comes Td 9c 9d. Good flop for me. No ace, a pair on board. If either of them were calling with a pocket pair, I have them crushed. It it's a big ace, I'm way ahead as well. I bet out 2800. The button puts the confused face on his avatar for a moment, before folding. But the BB pushes all in for 11,350. It's 5000, aka the rest of my chips for me to call and I'm getting over 3.5-1 with one card to come. Most of my stack is in already and I feel pot committed. I really want to go with my read here. If it's right, I'm ahead. Go with your read Change, go with it. Trust yourself. I call, and the donkey turns over Q9 offsuit. No way I ever put him on Q9 or any 9 really calling a big PF raise. I mean, he was a moron, but not that much of a moron. And the fishies swim away with my chips.

I capped off this horrid day with a multi on Full Tilt. A better idea would have been to run a $20 bill through a shredder. Got deep again, and busted with Kings by a pair of threes flopping the set. The pain was far too intense now. Step. Away. From the laptop. Power down. Exhale. Pack bowl. Inhale... Exhale...

Now that's my idea of pot committed.

Dog Days

Hollywood has slipped into the do-nothing dog days of summer-- a place where, frankly, I'm very comfortable. The streets of Beverly Hills are overrun with tourists ferried in by the double-decker busload. The corn-fed, fanny-packing midwesterners in bad Wal-Mart shorts, the backpacker guidebook-toting Eurotrash, and the hordes of Japanese all posing for photos outside the awful faux-Italian architecture of One Rodeo will, until Labor Day, compete with the usual cast of botoxed trophy wives, leathery old-school BH dames and emaciated sitcom stars for sidwalk space. Up a dozen stories in my little world, I'm quietly rejoycing that over the course of the next two weeks, all four VPs plus the big man are taking some serious vacation time, so it'll just be us kids running the joint. It just means more time for insane prop bets and no-limit freezeouts with my PAs and skipping out early for a little No-Limit at Hollywood Park. In fact, it's 3:30 right now and I'm already planning my 4 PM lap around the office to make sure the coast is clear enough to slip away for the tables.

So if everyone's gone, what the fuck am I doing here? It's not for lack of trying. And it's not like I'd go anywhere but Vegas. So, with room rates falling as fast as the temperature rises in the Nevada desert, I thought I'd check it out and propose it to Showcase. Witness the following email conversation

ME: The thought of Vegas did make me run & check hotel rates on Expedia. $90 a night for MGM Grand 8/31-9/1??????lets???ditch?????work?????????

SHOWCASE: if you were to go with me....my car would break down on the way....the room would have been given away by the time we finally got to the hotel and everything would be sold out except for the excalibur...you'd lose everytime you got pocket rockets...and all the coke would be stolen by a joan rivers impersonator.

Pussy.

Though he's probably right. Showcase's luck has been running even further afoul than my little losing streak. First the burglary. Then a health crisis for his mom. Then a horrible debacle with his new DV camera that ended with him smashing it to bits on the living room floor (a tape got stuck inside and the douchebag authorized repair guy told him it would cost more than the camera is worth to take it apart and fix the problem...so he got it out himself). Then the fact that his new(ish) commercial agent hasn't sent him out all month. Then this, just hours ago:

AIM IM with Showcase

Showcase: hey
Me: yo
Showcase: i swear to god
i woke up in such a good mood today
Me: i heard you singing
Showcase: slept really well....happy to be alive....thinking positive thoughts
and as i'm driving up (our street) to olympic some jackass open his car door right as i'm driving by and slams it into my car
Me: WHAT
Me: are u ok?
Showcase: yeah....and my car is too
Showcase: it just really hit my side mirror
Showcase: but seriously....i couldn't even get 100 yards from home without something happening....seriously....we need to go to china town and find some witch doctor with live chickens and shit

So if you know a good Shaman or Exorcist, seriously, let us know. We've tried feng shui, burning sage, and some sort of Brazilian good luck rattle. It's all for shit. But I'm really starting to subscribe to the theory that luck does run in streaks.

3:54 now. Six minutes until my walk. I also just noticed that my Phil Gordon DVD just arrived in my inbox. Man that was fast. You trying to tell me something, Phil? (That hand is still eating at me, BTW).

Sandwiched

You'd think I'd be happy to find myself caught in a Phil Gordon sandwich. I know my sister bloggers would certainly swoon at the thought.

Last night I played a $100 two-table SNG with Phil and David Singer on Full Tilt. I don't usually play SNGs higher than the $50s, but I've found that whenever pros are at the table, the field is noticeably softer, and the play more weak-tight than usual. This was no exception, as three guys went out very early and I was able to chop out some small pots and chip up to about $2200. After I raised with AQ in late position and was flat-called by the button, the flop came down a Q high rainbow with two babies. I checked, he raised all in for his last 700 or so and I called in a shot, figuring him for TT, JJ or another AQ. He had JJ and I'm suddenly the chip leader with about $3K. Niiiiice.

A few hands later, David Singer raises in the cutoff to 250, or 2.5XBB. I find 88 on the button. I think of reraising for like a second and a half, but instead elect to smooth-call. Singer has been stealing blinds with that 250 bet for a couple of orbits now, and if the flop's not too scary I can pop it then. If I flop a set, I'll likely bust him. Phil, however, is sitting in the BB and pushes all-in for 1300 or so. Singer folds, and it's up to me. What to do?

OK, so there's 650 in the pot already, plus let's say 1350 from Phil's all-in, so 2000 total. It's 1100 more for me to call and I'd be committing about 40% of my stack if I call this bet. It's a classic sandwich play. I'd even read about it in his freakin' ESPN article. I start trying to recall what hands he'd move in with here. Certainly AK or AQ. Certainly any pair higher than sevens. Possibly any high suited connectors like 9T, JT, etc. So I figure I'm a coinflip at best, and a 4.5-1 dog at worst. I can fold here and still be in great shape with over 2700 in chips. Or I can call off almost half my stack. I'm doing some Harrington-inspired math when instinct just tells me to fold. Phil takes down the pot and makes a fish sandwich of me. The table "learns from the pros." Phil switches on the smiley face on his avatar. My pride wilts a little.

I went pretty card dead after that, eventually pushing in with A6 with about 7 BB left. The button woke up with JJ and I'm out in 7th. Once I busted, I asked Phil what he had when he sandwiched me-- AQ suited. A coinflip after all. I then asked what he would have done with the eights and he admitted it was a tough call there. Shortly thereafter, Phil busted in 6th after pushing his last 5BB in UTG with 49 of spades.

In retrospect, I think I should have called Phil. Had I won the race I would have been a dominant chip leader AND busted Phil. Had I lost, I would have been back down to where I started. Calling that all in may have been my best shot to win the thing, or at least cash. Of course, how was I to know then that I'd go totally card dead for the rest of the match, but hey, it's just one SNG.

I just ordered Phil's DVD about an hour ago. Maybe I'll learn something for next time.

I'm still getting kicked in the face at LHE but that's a whine for another post...

Time for a $15 salad.

Three Laughs

Not like I really give a shit about former WPT eye-candy commentator Shana Hiatt's personal life, but this made me giggle, as I know this dude she's engaged to. In the words of our friends at Card Player:

Former World Poker Tour host Shana Hiatt is engaged to Hollywood movie producer Todd Garner.

Former World Poker Tour host Shana Hiatt is engaged to Hollywood movie producer Todd Garner. Garner, a founding partner of Revolution Studios, served as executive producer on the hit films 'XXX,' 'Anger Management,' '13 Going on 30' and 'Are We There Yet?', among many others, and oversaw all aspects of production and development for the Revolution's motion pictures during the company's remarkable first five years.

I spit Diet Coke all over my keyboard at that last line, "the company's remarkable first five years." No mention of the toilet they're in now. Here's just a sampling of those "other" films they leave out: Tomcats. The Animal. Daddy Day Care. Master of Disguise. The New Guy. Stealing Harvard. Radio. And last but certainly not least, Gigli. Yes, people this is a genius tastemaker we're talking about. He's also fond of wearing really bad Hawaiian shirts to nearly every meeting, and recently had a basketball court installed at Revolution's new Santa Monica digs. So yeah. They'll probably be very L.A.- happy together.

And this is good for a laugh. Apparently Frank Mariani, with a blood alcohol level that rivaled his chip count, won a Stud Hi-Lo tournament last night at the Bike. My favorite line came at the end:

"When tonight's tournament ended, Frank Mariani was in no condition to give an interview, even falling when he stood up. He also postponed collecting his winnings. Asked for his driver's license, he replied, 'I'm not driving.'"

And for our third laugh, Showcase directed me to page 13 of this morning's Variety:

"ROSIE SET FOR 'FIDDLER.' NEW YORK-- Rosie O'Donnell looks poised to make her Broadway return, playing Golde in 'Fiddler on the Roof.' The Current revival at the Minskoff Theater stars Harvey Fierstein as Tevye. O'Donnell is expected, but not confirmed, to open in the show sometime after Labor Day."

I guess her bravura performance in "Riding the Bus with My Sister" did NOT go unnoticed in the New York legit circles. But the real genius casting here would be Fierstein as Golde and O'Donnell as Tevye. Wouldn't "Tradition" just have so many new meanings? And the box-office? Please. Lion King would have nuthin' on them.

The Downswing

My limit game is fucked right now. A 120 BB downswing kind of fucked. Did my (forced) hiatus from poker and all the NLHE hours I put in leading up to the WSOP just scramble the area in my brain responsible for good limit play? I know I'm a good limit player. I know I can beat the Party low limits for 2 BB/hr. My pre-burglary Poker Tracker database would tell you that in an instant. I miss that database, not only for my reams of stats on the fishies, but for the way that beautiful, green, overall positive number would greet me as I fired it up in preparation for that night's session. I loved that green number. It said, "Change, you're a winner! You can smoke this game! Why? Because I am a mathematical statistic and I say so!"

That number is red right now. It mocks me. It spits in my face. It makes me second-guess my own ability and I hate that.

I've had downswings like this before, but not at this limit. Those all happened when I got too cocky and greedy and moved up to 5-10 before I was properly bankrolled to do so. Got my ass handed to me every time I tried that, so I've promised myself that I'll grind it out at 2-4 and 3-6 until my bankroll is flush enough that it won't feel as scary. Bad Blood posted recently on getting kicked in the face every time he took a shot at a higher limit and I could totally relate. It felt like he was reading my mind. But I'm getting off topic.

Like any good student of the game should, I spent the bulk of last night poring through Poker Tracker (or, the "Poker Tivo" as we call it in La Casa de Change y Showcase). Went over all the trouble hands and relived the nightmare of the last week. My VP$IP was still where it should be, around 20. I still had the little moneybag icon in front of my name, so I was still playing fundamentally sound poker. My aggression factor was a tick lower than it had been before-- something I attribute to temporarily playing on a short bankroll, given all the dough I've had to lay out this month for the new laptop and ipod and things that make my apartment safe. So, perhaps I was playing a little scared in some situations. But nothing totally aberrant.

So how did I drop 120 BB in just under 1000 hands? Post-analysis, I'd say 15% of it was not playing marginal hands like middle pair well in early and middle position, 10% scared play, and 75% just the shittiest luck imaginable. QQ cracked all 6 times I had it. KK cracked 3 times out of 4. Lots of agressively played nut flush draws, but like, one nut flush. Full house over full house twice in huge pots. If there were 50 key hands, I was completely fine with my play in maybe 40 of them. I discovered that I made some great laydowns where my read turned out to be correct. So unless I'm just so utterly blind and stubborn that I can't be honest with myself (and I think I can be), I think this downswing is largely due to crap luck.

So, to mix it up and get off the LHE-induced tilt, I played a couple of SNGs on Full Tilt and won both of them, which did wonders for my self-esteem, and nicely cushioned the blow I'd taken in the cash games that night. The second one, though, must have been the longest SNG I've ever played. Fo' reals. FIVE players went to break. FIVE! I've never seen that on Full Tilt before. With the blinds approaching 300-600, I had something like 5K, the guy who ultimately finished second had about $4K, and the three other morons left had around 1500 each and were pretty much just trying to fold into the money. I'm talking about folding in the BB when it comprises like, half your stack! Of course, I had a freakin' field day just pushing in on these guys over and over again and mercilessly feeding off their blinds... yum. I think I'll try a few more of these tonight, until I feel ready to grind the LHE again. I'm just not in the right headspace for that right now.

Many thanks to Amy Calistri for the blog pimpage! I'm such a fan of hers that I swear I blushed when I first saw that she'd linked me up. Even Showcase was impressed.

Women and Poker

Blogging from the new laptop!! Halleluljah! It runs so beautifully and now that my apartment has Fort Knox security, aint no burglars gettin' at my new baby.

My first read of the morning was Amy Calistri's fantastic piece on what seems to be the poker blogging world's debate du jour-- Women and the Poker Boom. There's been the McManus article, Al Can't Hang's fantastic rebuttal to that article, and a number of bloggers whose work I respect have offered intelligent, divergent opinions. Not to mention that every interview with every female pro offers a take on it, or at least the annoying question-- "does it help you to be a woman in such a male-dominated game?"

Well, I am a woman, and I'm a product of the poker boom, so here's my take for whatever the hell it's worth.

I'm a 28 year old single woman in Los Angeles. By day I work in the entertainment industry, and by night I am a poker sponge-- playing, reading, watching, thinking, and absorbing all I can about the game. By that admission alone, you'd agree that I'm wired a little differently than my peers. The urban single women I know fill a good percentage of their time away from their careers with hip bars and online dating and shopping and movies and socializing with friends. With my time, I do all of that, but mostly I play poker.

Let's face it. Women my age are more interested in dating and socializing than they are poring over poker texts or folding hands online. It sounds stereotypical, but really it's just a fact. I don't have a single female friend who is as deeply interested in the game as I am. But I can fill eight seats at my dining room table with guys who are.

When I tell other women I play poker as much as I do, I tend to get the same response. It happens in two stages. Stage 1: wide-eyed excitement/disbelief. They've seen it on TV and think it's exciting. Their boyfriends are addicted and even play the occasional session at Hollywood Park. They think you must be so cool and clever to be able to go out there and take cash off these guys and spend it on Manolo Blahniks if you want to. But... aren't those cardrooms I don't know, a little seedy? And you sometimes go by yourself? Now we transition to Stage 2: concern. You play how often? And online too? Like, for real money? The astonished smile begins its transformation into a furrowed brow as thoughts of Gamblers Anonymous and psychotherapy begin to run through their heads. You may have a different experience, but this is mine. I think I've had this same conversation half a dozen times with my female colleagues in my office kitchen since I won my seat into the WSOP. My male colleagues? They wanted lessons so they could get into the agents' games and asked me if I'd heard of this guy called Chris Moneymaker.

Is it that women lack the Alpha-Male competitive drive? Certainly not. Just look at women in business. Top colleges and universities today pretty much embed a freakin' competitive microchip in your head upon matriculation. And they're churning out more female graduates than ever before. McManus thinks it's biology-- what utter B.S. Competition isn't male or female-- it's just human. And regardless of sex, some of us have a little more of it than others. It's how we express that competitive spirit that's the issue. Women aren't expressing it by playing poker, but men are.

So let's look at some of the social realities that lead to that imbalance. I believe that more than anything else, the thing that sets female poker players apart from non-poker playing females is a fiercely independent spirit. The "lone wolf" thing. They don't care that their other girlfriends don't necessarily share this passion. They're not intimidated by the fact that 98% of their opponents are men. And they're not afraid to get in their cars and head down the freeway alone to the cardroom (because let's face it-- do you have a bunch of girlfriends you hit the tables with? I didn't think so. If you do, please email me.) We have the will and the drive and the patience to learn the game- be it via self-instruction or a mentor. Many female players I've met do have male mentors-- a boyfriend or brother or husband who taught them the game. That's fantastic and they're lucky-- anyone with a trusted teacher is. But some don't have that luxury. Look at Jennifer Harman, perhaps the greatest female player in the game today. She taught herself all the way from $4-8 to $4000-8000 against stiff familial objections. And now she's the mentor-- just look at her husband, Marco Traniello's phenomenal performance at this year's WSOP. I'd say she taught him a little somethin'.

But most girls I know just aren't like that. Now, I'm sure if you asked a married woman in her 30's or 40's you might get a different answer. I'd say most of the women I meet and talk to in the cardrooms of Southern California fall into that category. That's a statistic I'd love to know-- single female poker players vs. married female poker players. Perhaps the answer lies in there.

Amy concludes her piece with a slew of great questions to answer and issues to debate:

1. "Are there more women at the lower ranks of poker, just working their way up…but they will eventually get there? Or are women opting to stay in the areas of poker representing more consistent and lower variance returns such as cash games?"

In my experience, I see a lot more women playing cash games than I see in tournaments. It's common for me to have one or two other women at my $4-8 or $6-12 table at Commerce. I see them at the middle limits as well. Not so much in tournaments. Though I did have one woman at my first table at the WSOP, I didn't play against another throughout the rest of the event. In a 575 person NLHE tourney at the Bike last month, I busted out somewhere around the top third mark and I was the second-to-last woman standing. Online? You can never tell-- guys love to use the female avatars to try and throw people off.

2. "How is poker being marketed to women? (Because I’ll tell you, I don’t think those scantily clad women in the online ads are being aimed at me…lol)"

On the whole, I don't think poker is being marketed to women. Look at who buys ad space on the WSOP broadcasts-- beer, razors, deodorant, Viagra. This year, we even have the Levitra final table to enjoy. Well, there is that one commercial with the "hot secretary" playing poker in the office and fooling all the guys online, but that's about it. But what do you expect? If I'm a poker-related advertiser, I'm marketing to guys since they make up 98% of the players. It's just common sense. Once we girls are hitting the tables in bigger numbers, we'll have Party Poker ads in InStyle.

3. "And what about the ever controversial topic of "Women’s Only" tournaments. Have they been successful in bringing women into the main tent of poker, or just isolating them?"

I don't have as huge a bone to pick with women-only tournaments as many others do. When I select a tournament to play, I choose based on my ability to beat the field, and the money involved. That's pretty much it. If it's a Ladies Event, fine. If it's an open event, fine. Just give me a Red Bull and my starting chips. Many women think it's sexist and they're right. But if it makes some women feel more comfortable and confident in entering a cardroom, then why not have them? The byproduct is that those women who were previously intimidated now realize that it's not that scary. Maybe they'll come down next week and play the $10-20 or an open event. I hope there's a day when we don't need ladies events to get more women into casinos, but until then, I think they're fine.

4. "And role models. Who are the real role models for women in poker?"

We have a number of them. Annie Duke, mother of four. Jennifer Harman, who played for the highest stakes ever played in the face of life-threatening illness. Kathy Liebert, who has made a living from tournaments, -tournaments!- for over a decade. Linda Johnson,the first lady of poker and a true independent spirit. And Cyndy Violette, who simply steamrolled this year's WSOP. She also eats ridiculously healthy, meditates, and does yoga (I don't know about you but I kinda aspire to that, though Jack in the Box would probably miss my business). That's not to say that there aren't role models to be found in some of the newer female "stars," but these are the ones with the track records to back it up. In Hollywood terms, these ladies are the Sherry Lansings and the Dawn Steels of the poker world-- the ones who really had to hack at that glass ceiling so those of us learning and playing now don't have as difficult a time.

5. "Are the stunning, "guy magnet" women getting all the press?"

Of course they are. Just like all the stunning, "guy magnet" women in anything the media covers get all the column inches. Doesn't matter if it's Hollywood or poker or any other sport. That's America.

6. "And what about the Cinderella factor? So far Cinderella has been wearing a jock strap. Do we need our own "Christine" Moneymaker?"

We have one. Her name is Jennifer Tilly! Did you catch her on Leno? It was genius.

OK that's enough for now. Flame away. Give me your take on it. I, for one have already destroyed my workplace productivity for the afternoon (just as you are by reading this).

I can't wait to play tonight.