Two Days in the Life

A series of non-chronological vignettes in which our Heroes invade Las Vegas and abscond with cash and liver complications.

Enlightened Poker Despot

Aladdin Poker Room. 1/2 NL. My Drunk Needle dangerously in the red. I flop top pair with J8o in the BB. My pot-sized bet is called by the Mouth-Breather to my left. Turn jack gives me top two and the dance is repeated. River 7 puts a possible straight out there and Barely Functional Retard pushes all-in over the top. As I ponder my connundrum, the drunken haze parts and I suddenly see everything clearly. Because Einstein flips his cards prematurely, showing 84o for lesser two pair.

I let him keep his extra money, taking only the amount of a call. Why? Because I am a humanist. And because I want others to share in his remaining stack. Okay, it was really because I had not yet decided to call his raise, so, in some strange chivalrous place in my brain, I do not punish him for his insolence. Dealers and players alike marvel at my benevolence. But also...

Don't Forget Your Chips

I owe a debt to MrSubliminal who rode in from the Soup Kitchen and rescued Bob and I from a -EV cornholing at the hands of Barbary Coast blackjack dealers. He ferried us off to the Aladdin where we each bought into the game for $100. As we walked away from the counter, the brush calls after us, "Do you want your chips?" handing Bob two extra stacks of redbirds to go with our buy-ins. Bonus poker.

Mistaken Identity

A phone call, as related by Bob's friend S.

"Hello?"
"Is Bob there?"
"Who?"
"Bob?"
"I don't think so."
"This isn't Bob's phone number?"
"Oh, you mean Bobby Bracelet?"
(Sighs; eyes rolling) "Yeah."
"Okay, hold on."

Soft Landing

I am an artist with the dice. My throws flutter like clouds, with the form and action of a Jamaal Wilkes jumper. All silk, no effort. Naturally, after hitting my second or third point, the suits start to get anxious. "All the way down, sir." Hah. I continue to rain numbers, soft kisses on the back wall. Pay the line. Then the comedians come out.

"These are the lightest dice we have, sir."
"Would you like to hit from the ladies' tees?"

Trying to unnerve me. Nice try. In for $100. Out for $225.

Otis, My Man

Through a Greyhound Mist, I see a 49er streaking to pay dirt on a punt return. Who the heck is #18? Otis Amey. Excellent name. Never heard of him before, though. Which is reasonable, as a graphic soon shows he changed his name from Fred this week.

Did I Say That Out Loud?

Cashing out of the Aladdin game, barely coherent at this point, the following conversation takes place:

Cashier Lady: That's 479 dollars, sir.
Me: FOUR-HUNDRED SEVENTY-NINE DOLLARS?!?!?! (Use of bold and all-caps denote the ferocity of my volume)
Cashier Lady: Stop yelling.
Me: I'm sorry. (Pushing her four dollars) Here, buy yourself something pretty.

Rule #1

I call an aggressive player's all-in on the River with unimproved AKs. He mucks before seeing my cards, saying, "You got me," then proceeds to mumble about how he "can't play with these players." I respond,

"You can't bluff a calling station."

Purple Profit Eaters

I go 7-1 in the sportsbook on NFL Sunday. The Vikes, and their 60 yards of total offense in the first half, ruin my morning 4-game parlay (thanks anyway though to the Bills, Bears and Jags). But I hit a 3-teamer (for $250) in the afternoon courtesy of the Lions, Giants and Cowboys (oh my). I lay a hundred on the Colts in the ESPN game and am so confident in my wager that I sleep through the first three quarters. In my room, not at the bar.

Killing Them Softly

Early on in our Aladdin poker session, I get 64o in the BB and call a wienie raise to $5. The flop is 875 rainbow. This is a hand I usually play pretty fast, especially online. It's far from impenetrable, but, you know what, let's try something different.

I check, pre-flop raiser bets $15. A call behind and I call, as well.

Turn is a jack. Ugh. Down to the third nuts, but we'll note the action. I check. Pre-flop raiser again bets $15 (I put him on AK, AQ based on the size of that one). Call behind, and I figure that guy for a 9 or a ten in his hand, figuring he'd let us know sooner if he was sitting on the straight. Unless he's playing it like I am. I call.

River is a King, which gives me an instant erection. I check. Pre-flop raiser bets $40 and other guy drops. I raise to $120. He calls. He mucks.

Final Stats

Hammers played by Blogger contingent: 5
Hammers successfully dropped: 4
Dial-a-Shots attempted: 1 (AlCantHang)
Successful Dial-a-Shots: 0 (AlCantAnswerthePhone)
SoCo Shots Consumed Regardless: 1
Number of times I thought I was gonna puke: 1
Number of times actually puking: 0

This Loud Guy Again?

For no reason that I can recall, I blurt out the following to a crowded lounge of gridiron fans:

"I LOVE FOOTBALL!!!! I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!!!!!

Fortunately, the level of drunkeness in the room was pretty high and people actually appreciated the sentiment.

Michigan-based Additions to the Esoteric Blackjack Glossary

Bust Nasty v. Dealer, we kindly request you hit to 26.
Hognut n. Dealer, we kindly request you give us an 8 (derived from the similarity between a hog's testicles and the number 8 and requested using a hand signal/milking motion)

Zing!

The proper response, as related by bartender Toby, to Excalibur employees' insistence on ending every transaction with a cheerful "Have a Royal Day!" is "Shove it up your Royal Ass."

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

I'd like to thank Bob, his Michigan traveling partners (fine people, salt of the Earth folks who good naturedly listened while I babbled on and on about the wonder that is AJ), MrSubliminal, Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman, Mandalay Bay cocktail waitresses and, last but not least, Otis Amey for the smashing good time.