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Poker Blog established in 2003 as the first stop for poker news, poker stories, and bad poker advice.

August 31, 2005

New Orleans and Us

by G-Rob

Tonight I took a long stroll down what is an ever shortening memory lane. There have always been good reasons to keep New Orleans in our thoughts. I've had some incredibly good times there. So I've scanned the archives for some "Poker Blogger" connections to the Crescent City. Later tonight, I'll add my own facorite New Orleans Story. I encourage you to do the same.

Here's one connection for starters, from a site called "Legends of America"

Poker in the United States was first widely played in New Orleans by French settlers playing a card game that involved bluffing and betting called Poque in the early 1800's. This old poker game was similar to the “draw poker” game we play today. New Orleans evolved as America’s first gambling city as riverboat men, plantation owners and farmers avidly pursued the betting sport.

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Permalink | G-Rob's Thoughts

August 30, 2005


by G-Rob

Not long ago, I wrote a post here about Ultimate Bet. They totally screwed me on a tourney buy-in and I withdrew my roll.


After a good time away, I was lured back by the soft MTTs. Now they've done it again. If any of you, dear readers, put any real money into a Ultimate Bet account you are a fool. Just like me.

Tonight Otis and I bought into a $30+3 tourney. Both of us wasted more than an hour, then we both got screwed.

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Permalink | Online Poker

August 29, 2005

Limpy Gimpy

by G-Rob

I had to stop at the S&K on the way to work. We have this giant rear screen projector as part of the new fake-TV set, and I have to wear a sportcoat that fits. For a good year or two I had my weight totally under control, but as is usually the case, I lost focus and gained pounds. In my job things like weight and hairstyle, the dimple in my tie and the fuzzballs on my coat, are under constant scrutiny. My General Manager is the undisputed KING of dapper dressers and last week he called me into his office for a momumental chat.

Just moments before my last workday of the week, before a short vacation and knee surgery, he stopped me in the hall and said, "Make sure you come to my office before you leave today, we need to talk about something important."

Later that same day he asked again, in the way that any boss actually ASKS for anything, "Don't forget, you can't leave today without talking to me first."

So after my story was written, and all preparations were made, I visited the plush corner office ready for, at best, a dressing down. I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong, but the first words out his mouth were these, "I hope you know I DO like you," he said, before turning to actually face me, "but you may take this the wrong way."

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Permalink | G-Rob's Thoughts

Book'em, Bloggers

by Otis

This weekend, Mt. Otis finally recovered from Bradoween. It was nothing a little Stanley Steamer, Glad Trash Bag Co., and FEMA couldn't handle. There were many things left behind. A set of Copags and chips (recovered by The Mark), an Old Navy shirt (oddly, in my kid's nursery), two pair of sunglasses, a pair of girls high-soled flip flops, two coolers, two tables, and more gross stuff on my lawn than I care to inventory.

Also left behind was the Al Can't Hang Experience Banner. That belongs in Philly. As such, I'm going to hand-deliver it to Al next month. My only regret from Bradoween was working too hard and not spending enough time with my friends. As such, I hope to see many of you in Philly for the Bash at the Boathouse on September 24. Mrs. Otis and I are making the whirlwind trip and I recommend you do as well. In the extended text, I've offered a little incentive.

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Permalink | Otis' Thoughts

August 25, 2005

Bradoween V: Five Years in Suburbia

by Otis

I sat on the edge of my suburban tract, my back to the railroad ties, and my voice a cracked mess of overuse and abuse. When I tried to hit a note I could on almost any day, it came out in an ugly squeal. So, I leaned back, rested my chin on the edge of my guitar, and picked few notes as the first hints of sunlight started to rise over the horizon.

Like the poor young guns who hadn't lasted the night and passed out underneath trees or on storm drains, I was on the edge between finished and disaster. And when given a choice by Iggy and Daddy, I chose disaster. Because, I'm not finished until the party is. And if the waitress at the Waffle House doesn't notice that we're arriving by cab at the same time church services are starting, she certainly won't realize we brought our beer with us.

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Permalink | Bradoween

Rickey be Rickey.

by G-Rob

As a young left handed pitcher, my favorite pro was a crafty verteran with what I assumed was a similar delivery. I actually chose Steve Carlton as my baseball idol before I saw him play, I just admired the statistics on the back of his card. I'd happily swap any of the big rookies, and their more valuable debut cards, to my equally nerdy friends just for a late career action photo of a man who played the way I wanted to.

Rickey Henderson was different. I've never been fast and I'd only bat leadoff if the previous inning ended with our 6th man. We'd have those long debates up in my room about who was the better base stealer, and I'd take anyone over the arrogant swagger of the longtime Oakland A. The better the numbers on the back of Rickey's card, the more I wanted them out of my hands as if each base hit was another burning degree.

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Permalink | Poker Theory

August 22, 2005

The Clone

by G-Rob

I was on the other side of the building, deep in one of those conversations that men only engage in after unhealthy libation. Most men will shun the doctor, barricade emotion, and put forth the cool facade, but somehow Southern Comfort has the same coercive chill as an hour with Dr. Phil. Yes, dear friend, I love you, too.

Only one thing could break our manly composure. Only one thing could shake us from our drunken faux-compassion. A visiting physician barreled around the corner, turned on the garden hose, and yelled, "You're late for the wet T-Shirt contest!"

Welcome to Bradoween V!

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Permalink | Bradoween

Bradoween in (Moving) Pictures

by Luckbox

I didn't take many... but here they are. If you'd like yours added to this gallery, please email them to me.

Before you check out the pictures below, you could watch this little movie. It's mostly safe for work:
The Money Shot (Quicktime 6.5 required)

Or watch this movie, it involved GRob getting embarrassed, which means it's good fun for all:
Over the Top (Quicktime 6.5 required)

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Permalink | Bradoween


by Otis

There's likely a lot I will write soon about Bradoween V, but I need to thank a lot of people for making everything come off as good as it did. Bear with me.

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Permalink | Bradoween

August 21, 2005

Coming soon...

by Otis

words about Bradoween V. At the moment, I'm feeling every one of my years in much the same fashion as a guy who drank until the sun came up and then went to Waffle House with Iggy and Daddy.

I owe everyone who helped out with this year's event a great deal of gratitude. The 'Ween was another fun event with poker, stupid games, and, yes, oddly enough, a wet t-shirt contest.

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Permalink | Bradoween

August 18, 2005

Sometimes, It's All About 3rd Place

by Luckbox

It was Wednesday night pool table poker again, and I was hoping for a big turnout to help me get a little more tourney work before Bradoween weekend. We had 17 show up this time. And in Lousiana, we don't have to worry about the cops showing up.

I played pretty solid despite not getting very good cards. The best hand I saw early on was AQo. I raised it to 3xBB (150) and got two callers. The flop came down AKJ. I decided to get cute, which was pretty dumb considering the range of hands that beat me with that flop.

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Permalink | Tournament Action

August 16, 2005

A Source familiar with UFP

by G-Rob

I was working on a campaign story many years ago when a press agent called. My tiny station covered the buckle of the corn belt, though everyone there was in suspenders. The Democrat hailed from the west end of the state where people were as sparse as real breasts in Vegas. The Republican served as mayor in the city that housed the capital and the state university. The agent was from one of those campaigns.

By mid-October I hadn't endeared myself to either side. I'd only arrived in the state in August, and in just two months I'd embarrased one guy with comments he'd made about state employees, while the other threatened to kick me out of a press conference. Still, I knew the guys they'd hired to schmooze the media and even us rural mid-state stations got a hand job sometimes.

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Permalink | G-Rob's Thoughts

August 15, 2005

Misc. Rules

by Otis

Iggy posted the link to Modern Drunkard's 86 Rules of Boozing.

It reminded me of the weekend, which I had largely forgot, but I know started with poker and ended...well, with these new rules for myself.

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Permalink | Otis' Thoughts

August 13, 2005

ACTUAL Brad-o-ween Schedule

by G-Rob

Much has been written about the great annual G-Vegas festival. Few people understand the madness. As a 5 year veteran, I have certain perspective to offer. In fact, I've planned every aspect of this INCREDIBLE EVENT down to the minute. For now, I'll just brace you for Bradoween Eve...

It goes like this :


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Permalink | Bradoween

August 12, 2005

Edible tilt

by Otis

It's been a full 14 months since I wrote the following:

I didn't peel my cards off the table again, preferring instead to eat her face with my eyes. Her cheeks pulled in as she drew in on the cigar. She pulled her cards off the felt one more time. I couldn't read her as well as I wanted. Remember, her beauty put me on tilt the moment she'd climbed out of the H2-Hummer. When she lit the cigar and bathed the table in a sexual wash of smoke and casual good humor, I decided there was no way I could play the game of poker ever again.

Since that time, the Cigar Girl has become a familar face and friend. We've played against each other several times, and her husband, now known as The Mark, has warned me more than once to not ever again consider eating his wife's face.

Tonight, the subject of that game long ago came up again during a $40 buy-in single table freeze-out. And wouldn't you know it, Cigar Girl went to the freezer and brought back a popsicle.

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Permalink | Tournament Action


by G-Rob

Just overheard from my younger child's room:

AD : Waaaaaaaaah! Mommy!

MD : That's not good enough. You have to sound like you're hurt.

AD : Wahhhhhhaaahhh! Houwwwww! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

MD : That's good. But you wouldn't actually say "Ouch". It has to sound real.

AD : Oh. Oooooooooohhhhhh! Wahhhhh!

MD : See. Now daddy will give you dessert.

I'm putty. Pathetic Putty.

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Permalink | G-Rob's Thoughts

August 11, 2005

A Lesson in Patience

by Luckbox

The "Doublewide Game" has been retired. Now, it's the "Pool Table Classic." Each week, anywhere from 8 to 16 people gather around the pool table for some Texas Hold 'Em action. What it lacks in comfort, it makes up for in green felt, not to mention cup holders.

Last night, 12 people showed up, and, reluctantly, we decided to play one table. I didn't mind so much. Patience is my game and with the blinds taking longer to come around, I could pick my hands and pounce.

About four hours later, we had finished two games and I had seen two hands. That's right. I played two hands.

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Permalink | Tournament Action

Home of the Braves

by G-Rob

Near the press entrance, there are two elevators at Turner Field. The first is for fans who are too old or fat for stairs. The second is called the "press express," a two stop shuttle from the press box to the field. On Tuesday night I spent nearly 4 hours bouncing back and forth, meeting both shifts of elevator attendants, while my temper rose like the counterweight on every passing floor.

The lower level, down in the industrial core of the stadium, looks like the boiler room of every large building you've ever seen, except there are security guards every 15 feet. It's odd to walk past doors marked "Visitors bullpen" and "Braves Clubhouse" after decades of staring down at them from nosebleed seats. The corridor to the field itself is along the first base line, and we were allowed to cruise on out, as long as we stuck to the warning track.

The best part of the press box, is the lounge outside. There are hot dogs, chips, pizza and cokes served gratis for the writers. My photographer had 3 dogs, I had four, with chili. John Miller, the ESPN announcer was there, wearing too tight navy shorts and a hawaiian print shirt, shoving some sort of yellow pasta into his mouth. Skip Caray was there too, seated with 4 friends in the media lounge and clearly not enjoying his sandwich.

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Permalink | Playing For Fun

August 8, 2005

The Hammer --Grubby did it

by Otis

Please see the post below for my brother's first final table appearance

Scanning Oddjack for the latest Cinnabon update (just can't get enough of that), I happened across a link to a Newsweek story. In it, the writer gives us the following:

Playing from his home PC against a half dozen strangers from around the world, Kim won three hands with a pocket pair of aces, a two pair of kings and nines and, finally, by turning a full house from what poker pros disdainfully call "the hammer"â€"a seven and two of different suits.


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Permalink | Poker in the News

August 7, 2005

A Bradoween Omen?

by Luckbox

Little Willie (the real Doctor) must be getting himself ready for that tough tournament action we'll all be facing in a few weeks.

He jumped into a Full Tilt multi with 167 other people and finished third.

Nice work!

Permalink | Tournament Action

August 6, 2005

Knowing him when...

by Otis


It's fun to say you knew somebody when. As it happens, the poker pro who just won the WPT event in Paris is also a writer from the UK. I met Roland De Wolfe covering the EPT last year and had the pleasure of playing several single table satellites with him. I wonder how long it takes him to strip off the media badge and throw it in the trash.

Nice job, Roland.

Permalink | Poker Players

August 5, 2005


by G-Rob

It's 1:00 PM, which means I woke up early. Last night the last players left here at a little after 3. The game was a big success, I was up huge all night, but managed to tilt away a good $100 at the final FEATURE table. Here's the play-by-play, as scribbled in a reporter's notebook.

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Permalink | Home Games

August 4, 2005

New Ground

by G-Rob

I was deeply scarred by that first blogger intervention last year. The memories are hazy, like a late summer here in the "G". Worse still there's a small tatto, shaped like the finger of a dwarf on the front of my brain. Otis and I have a love-hate sorta thing when it comes to booze, we love forcing more damage on each other's liver, and we hate each other in the morning...sort of like bran cereal in sour milk.

But the worst part of the Vegas bender was the vague suspicion that I'd had a great time. Most of my old Phish shows were just like that, a blank slate with a pleasant aftertaste. I remember chatting up the hookers at the SHERWOOD FOREST, and God knows I'll never forget their answer to, "What's the wierdest thing a John ever asked you to do?" But I have no idea what I injested that night. I always hated the idea that I was a central charater in a drama that I still couldn't recall.

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Permalink | Home Games

August 3, 2005

And now...

by Otis

a word from our sponsor. (Speakers required before you click)

Permalink | Tournament Action

August 2, 2005

What is winning?

by Otis

I stood in the hallway, a backpack over my shoulder, and an ancient feeling of anxiety tied up in my gut. This was not my battlefield. This place belonged to someone else. By some quirk of fate, I'd slipped in. Maybe the real competitors needed a practice team, I thought.

The hallways were teeming with wide-eyed live poker virgins and girthy veteran gamblers. A half-eaten breakfast sat in my stomach and tried to work its way around my anxiety. I looked across the tournament area and saw a little number two hanging over a table in the back corner.

Just then, my brother and CJ walked up and asked a question I wasn't expecting.

"Is it Sweet Tarts or Spree?"

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Permalink | Otis' Thoughts

Pictures from Home

by Luckbox

So I don't have the writing skills of my UFP brethren, but what I lack in wordsmithing, I make up for in pictures.

Just to fulfill the poker requirement, here's the 4 aces I used to knock my Dad out of our family SNG:

Notice he was playing 45o into my preflop raise. Shame on you, Dad. Needless to say, I ran over my brother, sister and father in the two games we played.

Now, click "There's More!" to see pictures of my nephew, JP. It's why I'm posting in the first place...

Permalink | Luckbox's Thoughts

August 1, 2005

"A total rambling mess for which I apologize" OR "A Novice"

by G-Rob

In each of the last few years I'd mark off the days with an "X", a full cross from corner to corner. It made my At-A-Glance calendar look like a cheap hillbilly quilt. For awhile I'd make the slash right at punchout time, just after I logged out of the system. After a year or so that time moved up, and I'd cast the day aside before heading out to lunch. Now, I don't make a mark at all.

Of course, even the NAMES of days help mark the passage of life. I promise to kill the next co-worker who laments "another Monday". Its not as if Tuesday will be any different. Really, you're just waiting for the weekend, which means you're willing to fast-foreward nearly 5/7 of your entire life.

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Permalink | G-Rob's Thoughts