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WPBT Trip Report: Part 1

Early on in the planning for the Winter blogger gathering, there was talk of a cooking challenge. Contestants would include BG, Otis and of course, @astinto. It was also decided that I would be the judge and cooking would happen at CK's house. A few weeks after all this was decided, I was gently informed that all these plans existed merely in my own head.
"What?"
"Yeah, you made all that up, sweetie. BG isn't even coming to the Winter gathering!"
Dammit! It's my senior year protest prom all over again! I am always so SURE these conversations happened in real life with other people.
Cest la vie. With the cooking challenge out, so was I. I shouldn't really be travelling anyway, I had a job to be looking for.
So it was I became a target for the #getdawntovegas movement. I was promised Tom Brady and Zac Efron and cats not eating my face. But I held firm. Had. To. Work.
I was out. And then Alceste decided he was going at the last minute.
And since Alceste is my role model in all things, not involving holding a steady job, I thought I could figure out a way to do Vegas on a Saturday and get back to work by Monday morning. Nope.
The best I could swing was Monday afternoon and the price for that ticket was a hundred bucks more than I was willing to pay.
Sad panda strikes again.
So I gnashed my teeth at all the drunken happy tweets from the IP and the MGM.
I shook my fist at the sky and wondered about a God that would let STB08 hit quads in a hand he played from the bar AND let him get paid! What next, lord, Tony Romo wins a Superbowl?
Oh, the antics and the hijinx! I wanted in.
And then my boss announced on Friday afternoon that they were closing our project early. This would be the last day! I didn't have anywhere to be Monday MORNING!
To say, I ran, not walked to the travelocity website, well...that would be a lie. I don't run. (This will soon prove to be a lie too.) I found a flight rountrip for $210. What the what!
There were tons of seats on my Saturday morning flight, but only one middle seat left for the Monday night leg. I plugged in my credit card info, and hit purchase. It didn't work.
I tried it again five more times. Nothing.
I called travelocity directly because I figured it was a computer glitch and I didn't want to lose that seat. I was informed it would be an extra $25 to book over the phone. Boo. Fine, stupidfaces! But the operator couldn't get my info to work either. Blurgh. She suggested I try another card.
The only other credit card I use was locked in my car glove compartment. In my basement garage!
Why won't Mastercard let me be great?
I hung up and ran all the way from my 12th floor apartment to the car AND BACK!
My final act before collapsing to the floor, was to drag my laptop to the hardwood with me. I logged back into travelocity. Not only were my flights still there, the price was now $180! Woo hoo.
(A week later, while trying to use my card at a gas station, the Mastercard was again declined. I threw a Naomi Campbell level fit and made he try it again: declined. I blamed his machine, left all the items on the counter and stormed out. And *then* I called my credit card company. Evidently someone has been using my card to purchase hundreds of dollars of itunes and Scottish currency, so Citibank put a hold on the card until I could be reached to confirm the purchases. They apparently don't know about my not answering numbers I don't recognize policy.)
I booked, packed, texted Alceste and tried to sleep. Ah, who could sleep! I would be in warm, sunny Las Vegas in a matter of hours!
Ha!
It was like 40 degrees and raining when I landed at Mcarran. No need for my usual stripping off of coat and sweater layers. It was cold.
I managed to get comped rooms at the Rio for the weekend, so I went straight there to dump my luggage and stuff.
Alceste said he was having breakfast with CK and Ftrain at the IP. Now, I love me some IP, however, after an...um...unsettling dining experience there last year, I will never eat there again! But I figured I'd swing by to say high before heading over to Caesar's to register for the tournament.
Alceste had ordered some weird face sized chocolate chip pancake and once my mouth started the sentence "that looks..." I had no choice but to end with "gross."
So I skipped dining with them and walked back to Caesar's with Pauly, Derek and Chang100. The last longer team that edge out my own last longer squad by 8 points to take third! I was totally bouncing off the walls to see everyone, though I knew I'd missed the best night. I knew this because upon making my surprise appearance at Caesar's I was informed that my late arrival made me one of two people in all of Vegas that the Rooster didn't owe an apology to! Damn it! Yet another year stuck on the D list for Dawn.
I am the absolute WORST when it comes to names and faces, but a few familiar ones jumped out right away:
I saw Carter and Falstaff and @astinto, California April and CJ. I ran into Katitude in the ladies room and I was all "Hi, Kat!"
But she was all *blank stare* why is the crazy lady talking to me in the bathroom? Then she did a double take and was like "I thought you weren't coming!"
It was funny.
Then I ran into Drizzle and Al Can't Hang and my absolute favorite, Iggy! And then my phone rang and it was my mother. My mother who probably thought I was in my bed in Brooklyn.
Ruh roh.
"You're where?"
"Um...Las Vegas. It was a last minute thing. Um...a couple of my friends are getting married."
"Which friends?"
"Oh...you don't know them...uhm...it's starting. I gotta go."
I made it back to my seat in time to see Onafolddraw awarded the Gigli for busting out first. Frankly, I was glad. I never want to bust first, so with that particular honor already bestowed, I could play poker. Or try to anyway. I was pretty aggressive with a couple of Le Dawns and some suited connectors, then stupid Otis had to stupid raise my continuation bet and I had to stupid fold. So sad. And lonely.
I logged in to twitter to cry about it, when I saw a tweet from poker grump saying Dawn Summers was at his table. Heey, *I'm* Dawn Summers. I look around, but didn't see the signature brown sweatshirt. Yes, I do imagine everyone to look exactly like their twitter avatars at all times. I can't wait to meet Tae the talking jeep! I finally spotted the most likely Poker Grumpish guy and asked if he was him. (Huh? What? English, woman, do you speak it?) He said he was him and I waved! But then I realized that with BadBlood to the left of me, Otis to the right of me, Stupid Asian Alan button raising all my big blinds, Luckbox, the lady that takes the pictures AND PokerGrump at my table, I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of surviving this table. I outlasted a number of people though, thanks mostly to PokerGrump going on a player busting heater, the likes of which would make Darvin Moon proud! (Except Darvin would be confused about PokerGrump having the best hand when all the chips hit the middle.)
Haha the one hand I remember besides, the back to back pairs which lead to my demise, involved Luckbox shoving with maybe four big blinds with J3 and Pokergrump calling him with A3.
He pretty immediately flopped a jack. He sprinkled a bit more luck powder and managed to river himself a jack too! The core of my starting table lasted to the second break. Otis' bounty: a Flavor Flav sized clock which hung from his neck, announcing "Hammer Time," did not. It evidently fell from its string right into the urinal.
And he fished it out! AND AWARDED IT TO THE POOR SAP THAT BUSTED. From the Gigli to the Peepee!
Ewwww
After I busted, I went back to my hotel room to nap and charge my phone. This quickly turned into play poker and charge my phone. Nothing of note happened during the session, maybe I made $6 over my $100 buy-in, but mostly I was just biding time and drinking Jameson's.
The Rio is not on the strip. So, I had to take a shuttle bus back and forth. The shuttle to the strip was full of these well dressed, white, what I thought were, businessmen. Not so. Turns out they were college students celebrating the 21st birthday of one of their merry band! Whoa! They looked OLD! The bus driver got into the party spirit and put on "Play that funky music white boy" while the birthday boy and some chick grinded upon one another in the aisle. Then she put on that "Midnight train going anywhere" song and we all sang along until we reached the strip.
I got back to Caesar's in time to see the final table: Talk about a Poker blogging All-Star team! Al Can't Hang, F-train, Alceste, @Astinto, Obie, some kid with hippie hair and a chick I didn't know!
"Maaaan, what the hell? F-train's still in this? I'm WAY better than him! I want to rebuy" I said, pouting.
This was met with AlCan't Hang's
"The rail says what?"
Boo.
I hung out on the rail with CK watching and tweeting when the kid with the long hair said something and I was like "wait a minute...I know that voice..."
It was JOE SPEAKER!!
DUUDE!
I immediately tweeted "DUDE Joe Speaker has hippie hair and is aging backwards!! WTF??!!!!" I assume his deal with the devil is coming along nicely. Later he goes "how did you not know it was me? You said hi to me earlier!"
This is where I point out that decades ago, when I realized how much I suck at the faces/names thing, I quickly learned to pick up on signs that someone knows me, and can totally fake my way through entire interactions with them. It's a gift.
But wow! Joe Speaker's at the final too!
Blogger tournaments are SO Rigged!
I took a seat in a cash game. I was sitting to Carter's right. Then I noticed Metsfan getting up with racks and racks and racks. I asked if it was a 1/3 game, he said yes, I called lucky seat and switched.
I won at the game, but really I was railing the final table. F-train got picked off bluffing by @astinto and busted from the table in 7th. Al had the chip lead and after Alceste busted out 4th, the three remaining: Astin, Speaker and Al talked about chopping. Al had the chiplead and so wanted first and the trophy. The other two were willing to give him first, but insisted on playing it out for the trophy.
"Don't you think you can win it?"
Astin asked.
Leading to my patented Oh Snap and a tweet that said "@astinto's mouth is writing checks that his chip stack can't cash!"
Al then threw his arms in the air and said "no chop!"
He then lost all his chips but the ante. But those ante chips were just enough for him to outlast Speaker and go heads with with Astin for the Golden Hammer and all the marbles.
In the end, Astin proved me wrong for the second time! (Earlier, he had gone all-in on a three way hand and I tweeted he'd busted, but nope he had survived with a few chips left) The Golden Hammer was going abroad!
Au revoir, Hammare. (Which I assume, is the proper Queen's French.)

Merry Christmas!

I have a really awesome Winter gathering post, but I figure nobody is reading blogs again till after New Year's, so...we'll save it to open 2010 with awesomeness!

You guys are the bestest! All the best to you and your families and good luck at the tables!

They Always Hit (Dawn)

Moe: Okay, punching isn't your thing. But that's okay. You're not that kind of fighter. What you're gonna do is stand there while your opponent gets exhausted from over-punching. -The Simpsons

I often writes posts and retell hands so that you guys can give me advice on how to be a better low limit cash game/tourney player. Or so you guys can critique my play and help me seal leaks. This is not one of those posts. The only appropriate comments to this post will involve soothing calming words of encouragement or, in the alternative, creative painful ways to hurt the dealers and villans involved in the $1500 I paid for playing poker in the past SEVEN days.
SEVEN.
Jesus.
So sure, you can take this opportunity to say how you would have done x,y or z differently and come out without a $1500 loss, but know that I will hunt you down, find you, and kick you in the shins. And lest you think "ooh, well I'll get to see the Liberace sneakers in person!" Nope. I'll be wearing ugly Nike hightops from tenth grade.

Okay, now that we're clear and everyone is sufficiently in poor Dawn, poker sucks and that bad bad man's penis should fall off mode...

After rather suddenly losing my job last Friday, I decided just as suddenly to fly out to Vegas for the blogger tournament. They were offering a last longer prize pool, so I hooked up with Alceste and California April for team "Last Minute." I stole a few pots early, until Otis picked me off and I decided to behave. Then I went card coma. Not dead, but a lot of big aces, that wouldn't hit. And then I got pocket kings. A guy two in front of me, who I guess had about ten big blinds left, shoves. I take my 17 big blinds and stick them in the middle. Everyone else folds. The dealer, an Asian *woman* flops the ace right away.
Crippled, I get pocket sixes.
I shove.
The Luckbox calls me with KQoff. And well...they don't call him the "doesnthitbox." He flops an open ender and hits the straight on the turn. I busted out somewhere in the middle of the pack and my last longer team bubbled just out of the money despite Alceste's amazing run to place fourth in the whole tournament.
Ok, but whatever, it was only an $85 buy-in tournament, with 7500 chips and 20 minute levels. You win some, you lose some.
But then, whatever… devil this is, climbed aboard my cash game and fucking pulled the wheels right off my entire train.
I would say it started with this hand:
I am in the CO with QsJs, it's been limped. So, I limp. And yes, I personally have never won a hand with QJ, though I've been beaten with it, and I even noted to myself "self, just fold it. You never win with it." But instead, I called myself names and ignored my own warning.
Flop 8sTs2s.
OH MAN OH MAN. You see, self? You're so stupid. That's why nobody likes you. There's a bet to $17, I raise to $60. He calls. He has like $400, I have $190 after my $60 bet. He calls.
Muzzerfocker.
No more spades...please God in heaven.
Deuce of diamonds.
He checks, I shove.
No more drawing, I am going to take this pot down right...
"Call."
Huh? What the what now?
I get a sinking feeling and don't show.
River is a red ten.
"Do you have a boat?" he asks.
"No. Flush."
He turns over Ks4s.
I muck. And rebuy. I lose that rebuy to Alceste on a classic Alceste suck out. Hate him.
Later that night, I end up at IP with CK and we round up a table of bloggers to play. We are splashing around terrorizing tourists for a few hours and then Law Chica and Onafolddraw, Travis joined us.
At this point, it changed into…umm...remember the “kiddie game down the street” crack that Matusow made? What's the opposite of that? Advanced Organic Chemistry game? Yeah, like that.
CK made the sickest fucking call I've ever seen in real life to win a ~$700 pot off Law Chica who was bluffing every street with five high even though the board BOTH flushed AND straightened. CK CALLED WITH THIRD PAIR.
AND IT WAS GOOD.
She also cracked Metsfan's Queens with Queen eight in a “calling on the flop with a backdoor clubs draw and going runner runner to hit on the river kind of way”.
DO. NOT. MESS.
At this point, Caity starts to button straddle (weird thing they allow in Vegas, forcing SB to act FIRST preflop and button gets to act last BOTH preflop AND all subsequent streets.) She has been doing this to thwart Travis' attempt to UTG straddle. All fun and games until...right?
In middle position, I call the button straddle with ATsooted. The flop comes A T 8. Travis leads out for $20 (everybody has about $200, including me after doubling through lawchica with a flopped boat versus her flopped trips.) I IMMEDIATELY pop it to $80. Everyone folds. He goes "um...ok" and calls. Turn is another 8, he checks, I shove. He calls and shows 84off.
I rebuy. Two hands later, Travis has UTG straddled, I limp from MP with pocket sevens. A bunch of other callers come along. Travis raises to $22. I shove. It folds back to Travis, he says "I run good against you, Dawn" and he calls. I turn over my hand. He says "oops." And turns over 78off. Flop? 456.
I was going to get up, as I have a two rebuy max rule at IP. But it was supposed to be a friendly blogger cash game, so I didn't want to look like a sore loser dick (which I TOTALLY am, by the way, I just didn't want to *look* like one on this particular occasion). Alas, while the third rebuy lasted longer than the second, I would lose that too by night's end when I shoved with an open ender/flush draw and got called by AK high. OH, and the hand before that? I limped with 35sooted from the small blind. Flop A 3 5, I bet, this old dude calls. Turn is a 5, I check, old dude goes all-in for $95, I call. He has A5. So my open ended/flush draw shove was for like 60 dollars or so. Blah.
I leave IP angry and confused. I check the sign above the building. That was the IP, right? The one in *Vegas*? But... but...where's my money?
I go back to my hotel and I can't shake the loss off. So...
I buy in for $100 at the Rio $1/3 game. They're doing that button straddle bullshit too.
A lady has raised it to $17. I have $87 left. I have queens on the button. One guy calls her and I shove. The lady calls. Other guy folds. She has KING FUCKING JACK OFF.
Flop? Oh, K J T, of course. Then she says, all sympathetically:
"What a cooler for you to get queens when I have king jack!"
WHAT? You had KING JACK, ASSWIPE, NOT KINGS.
I want to vomit on her.
Instead, I rebuy and tilt lose it raising with suited connectors and continuation betting busted draws.
I finally go to bed at like 6:30.
Next morning, I decide to shake it off.
Get your head together, Dawn, you can win today!
No. No, I can't. I am an idiot. I manage to only lose $80 before getting on the plane home.
Fine. Whatever. Vegas.
We'll soothe our wounds in Atlantic City.
Fat chance.
My first night was so painful. As per usual, none of my big aces hit, no draws hit and I didn't get any sets. But I was being cautious. As I texted to Alceste "I'm scared. There are still flops from Vegas I see when I close my eyes."
I played ten hours and made 20 dollars. Oh well, better than a loss.
On Saturday morning Alceste went off to play in the WSOP Circuit event. My back was killing me, so I knew I couldn't sit in one place long enough to be able to focus on a tournament. I played cash.
I played with the following rules: You DO NOT play KQ KJ, QT, or AT. You will limp/insta fold AK, AQ or AJ for $10 or less preflop. You will fold them to any bigger preflop bet. You're not the kind of poker player who hits draws. You will NOT draw. This means you will NOT play suited connectors of any kind, with the exceptions already specified.
DO YOU HEAR ME.
Yes'm.
Using this system, I was up to about $240 when this happens:
I checked my BB with JToff.
Flop? As Ks Qd.
I check.
Big Fat Man who had me on mega tilt bets $15. Two people call, I raise to $50.
Big Fat Man calls.
We go heads up to the turn: Ah. I assume he has a flush draw or a weak ace, so I shove.
He says "I'm sorry. I have to call you. Sorry. I have to. How much?"
Flush draw. Oh well.
Oh, no flush draw, homeboy has pocket KINGS and turned a boat! I am stacked.
I rebuy and throw my rule book out the window. I play suited connectors. I raised with big aces, I chase my draws. I lose all my money and have to rebuy again.
I put the rules back in full force.
I grind my dang way back to $200.
Then this happens. I check my BB K4off.
Flop is K 4 8.
This dude in the lucky seat bets $8 and makes some crack like "let's keep it friendly."
I raise to $16.
Folds back to him.
"Alright, little lady, how about $24."
"Raise to $48."
"I'm all-in" He has like $145
"I call."
I turn over my hand. He shows pocket aces and goes "aw, I should have known. You haven't played hardly at all. Aw man."
Turn is a deuce.
I tell the dealer "keep it clean."
River is an eight.
Ship it.
Not to me.
I literally started muttering "It's not fair." Out loud. Repeatedly. Not yelling. Just muttering. Like. Um...a crazy person.
Alceste, who was now sitting next to me, helpfully said "I would have won that hand. I had an eight."
Super.
I just. I dunno.
Lucky seat guy took his winnings and left. I took the lucky seat. About ten minutes later, I get pocket tens UTG. I call a raise to $17 Four people see a flop of 4 2 2.
I shove my last $70 and get a call from the raiser. He has Kings. Of course, he does.
I go to bed.
Again, I am determined to play through this. The bleeding HAS GOT TO STOP, right?
My first table I get pocket fours, pocket sixes, call $12 raises and fold to a flop of overs. Down to about $75 now, I get Ace King. Doofus "$12" raiser, makes it $12, three people call, I shove.
FOUR people call me. FOUR.
Flop is 4 6 J. Turn is a 9 and the river is a 7.
There is a huge ass side pot between two of the men (other dude folded to the flop.) After the river, the original raiser shows pocket tens, other dude who has been leading the betting angrily mucks.
"How do you call on every street with tens? You're a -pardon my French- fucking moron."
"If you had better than tens you would have reraised. I didn't think you had it."
I simply muck my hand.
"That's why we have Ace King rules, Dawn." I tell myself.
I then decide, you know what, these people are idiots. I buy-in for a full $300.
This was a mistake.
I wait and watch. Mostly watching aces and kings flopping about thirteen hands in a row after my stacking.
I raise to $15 with tens, get five callers and fold to the King high board. I raise to $30 with jacks and fold to the ace high board. I call a raise with AcQc
and fold to 7h8h9h flop.
Seriously, ridiculously unbelieveable.
I'm down to about $210 now. I have AQ, raise to $10. Six people call. Oh well. I prepare to fold.
Flop: A Q 4.
Wait. What?
Those cards match my cards!
Guy bets $17, I raise to $40. Two callers.
Turn is a 7 and it checks to me.
I bet $75. One caller.
River is a 4.
I don't like it. I check, other dude bets $60.
I call.
He has Q4.
I muck angrily.
"Nice river," some other guy says.
"Naw, I don't think I needed it. I think I had her the whole way. I put her on Ace Jack/Ace King."
If I could have leaped across the table and ripped his heart out of his chest, I woulda.
Mmm.
I go back to tilt calling with draws and picture cards and shit. But once the Miami game ended, I just decided to call it a loss and go home.
And I did.
And now I'm sad.
Sad sad sad panda girl.
I’m honestly not a gambler. Okay, except for the lotto. But for that I have a system. A SYSTEM! You’ll see. But after a week like this poker just seems like nothing but gambling. Math gives you wrinkles, so I haven’t crunched the numbers to see just how crushed I supposedly had some of these people preflop/on the flop. But in the end, who cares, I’m still going home broke.
If poker is just a gamble, why am I not putting my $1500 on the roulette wheel where if I hit I get paid way better than I would at a 1/2 table. Ugh.
I cry.