Vegas Bachelor Party Timelion v. 5
A timelion, for those that don't know, is a large cat trained by shaman to meow or roar, depending on your proximity, on the hour every hour. These cats when released into the wild or when escaping after killing their keepers usually starved as mid-stalk they'd announce it was four o'clock. Or not. Scroll down for the real definition.
It's 5 am or so on a friday in Las Vegas. I'm now steamrolling my two opponents in a limit hold 'em game. I tell them they are going to make me rich. After the casino's cut and the tips we fire out there may be $60 on the table for me to win.
5:07 SB (which stands for SuperBill a persona rarely seen in 6 years but accompaning me on my bachelor party) to his two tablemates on a 2-4 limit game: You thought your husband and wife hustle was going to work on me. But see, I figured you out. Like a first base coach I stole your signs.
Man: Doesn't a first base coach give...
SB: That's why I'm up $12. Pay the Lion. That $8 pot is mine! I'll play ya'll as long as you want to play. You are going to make me rich. Now, I'm pretty sure I saw you, madam, on a WPT final table, makes no difference that you are hiding you skills here on the low rent table, I recognize you missus Selbst. But don't worry I'm not going anywhere, as long as you two want to play I'll play. Right JoAnne?"
Dealer: Eeeeets Joan.
SB: Let me stress, I'm here for as long as you two want to play.
5:07:13 Dealer (at the other table): Seat Open
SB: Um, good luck and good night.
5:07:55 SuperBill drops his whites onto the table and adds some hundos to the tally. The stinkeye is liberally applied to everyone. They are reminded that SuperBill will unburden them of their chips. Looks are exchanged that were half "Look at this ahole" and the other half "This guy is going to lose all his money."
5:08:12 SB lose an all-in pot. Pay attention to the times every once in a while. Otherwise this would just be about lions. Down one buy in. I believe Virge calls it advertising. The table is excited as SuperBill pulls out another few hundos. In about one orbit (or 10 hands) SB has blown half of that buy-in. The table is very irritated at the drunken stooge but happy to have him there.
5:10 Win first pot. Table has labeled SuperBill a maniac. Willing to call him down with rags. They also hate him. This is very promising.
5:30 Won my buy-ins back, sitting on a ton of chips. Engaging the wiseacre with taunts about how his chips want to run over to the table and play with mine. SB asks if he has stack envy.
5:32 Never count out the mad Texan. Tex told me he'd try and make it out if he had a good night at Shorties. I receive no phone call from him. I assume it wasn't a good night. Strike that, wasn't a great night, he was at Shorty's I'm sure it was a good night. Read SouthPaw Rounder's blog on that place.
5:33 Friend in Seattle farts in the mouth of different sleeping girl.
5:33 SuperBill is the only one awake from the bachelor party.
6:32 am Have great reads on everybody at the table. They all want to bust SB. SB makes a bluff on the one tight guy, shows it, and then the guy becomes irate even though he's been laughing at my nonsense prior to that. This play confirms I'm a maniac. Wiseacre is kind enough to tutor SB and tell SB why that bluff was such a dumb poker move.
SB: Hey have your seen your chips recently. They appear to have left home. And these chips in front of me look a lot like yours. Well, all the chips look-a-like but these look especially like the ones you used to have. Yes, they have your dirty fingerprints all over them. Were you eating nachos earlier? Or do you hands just smell like cheese. You like cheese? You want some Fromundacheese? ... No? O.K.
Table: Fromundacheese?
SB: From unda my balls.
7:30 am SB has really tightened up even though table hasn't noticed. Proceed to win pot after pot as the table alternates trying to run down SuperBill with second pair. You can make so much more money when you are hated. There's no question about it. The problem is being that guy. Nothing redeemable about SuperBill. I'm almost embarrassed to exagerate about him.
8:00 am (Maybe it was 9 maybe it was 10 but the first Caesers Tournament is about to start). I got two racks of chips in front of me. SB takes his winnings and tells the table he's leaving. Three or four players also cash out pissed.
"I'm the asshole?"
8:10 am Join tournament. Here's where the memory is as blurry as it gets. Memory is a funny thing. SuperBill never blacks out or forgets anything he just doesn't rush his memories. I had a friend who used to black out and then deny he did what we said he did. On one of his tamer nights he used the oven in our apartment as a percussion instrument, timing the slamming of its door to match his chant "Kappa Kappa Gamma, Kappa Kappa Slamma, I slam Kappa Kappa Gammas." Our next door neighbors were Kappas. No lion was paid, his mating song was unsuccessful. Obviously, the oven door did not survive. Like many things in his hands at 3 am in the morning they were quickly and always much to his surprise broken.
After one night when a lazy boy had been dismantled, by accident of course, and we brought another one of his destructions to his attention, he said, "I never do the things that you say I do. You just know that I can't remember what I did last night, so you blame everything on me because you know I won't remember." I loved the logic. This was the same guy who kicked a guy in the knee and tore his ACl to shreds and immediately said, "There's no way you can blame this one on me."
Anyway, my memory from a lack of sleep and an excess of chicken drop shots at the Pai Gow table draws a blank on most of this tournament. When my friends had woken up and started the day, SuperBill was still alive with two tables to go. SuperBill was also behind a mountain of chips. Apparently, the F-Bomb isn't allowed because they heard SuperBill drop it about 20 times and his friend the bemused mustachio'd floorman give him a warning each time. The other players were exasperated. Finally, the F bomb flys out of SuperBill's mouth one more time.
Floorman: I have to give you a penalty.
SB: I don't get a f**king warning?
Much laughter. Floorman thought SuperBill was HE-LARIOUS. One of that .01%.
Floorman: You have to get up. One orbit penalty (which means ten hands have to be dealt around the table with SuperBill not in the action but his chips going toward the blinds and antes as if he was there and his cards just being folded--explanation for the nonpoker playing friends reading).
SB: I have to get up?
Floorman: One orbit penalty. It's got to go around the table before you can sit back down.
SB: Go around the table before I can sit back down?
SuperBill of course walks around the table and sits back down (fully knowing the rules).
SB: One orbit. Deal me in Dealer. And what is your name?
Dealer: Eeeets Joan.
It's 5 am or so on a friday in Las Vegas. I'm now steamrolling my two opponents in a limit hold 'em game. I tell them they are going to make me rich. After the casino's cut and the tips we fire out there may be $60 on the table for me to win.
5:07 SB (which stands for SuperBill a persona rarely seen in 6 years but accompaning me on my bachelor party) to his two tablemates on a 2-4 limit game: You thought your husband and wife hustle was going to work on me. But see, I figured you out. Like a first base coach I stole your signs.
Man: Doesn't a first base coach give...
SB: That's why I'm up $12. Pay the Lion. That $8 pot is mine! I'll play ya'll as long as you want to play. You are going to make me rich. Now, I'm pretty sure I saw you, madam, on a WPT final table, makes no difference that you are hiding you skills here on the low rent table, I recognize you missus Selbst. But don't worry I'm not going anywhere, as long as you two want to play I'll play. Right JoAnne?"
Dealer: Eeeeets Joan.
SB: Let me stress, I'm here for as long as you two want to play.
5:07:13 Dealer (at the other table): Seat Open
SB: Um, good luck and good night.
5:07:55 SuperBill drops his whites onto the table and adds some hundos to the tally. The stinkeye is liberally applied to everyone. They are reminded that SuperBill will unburden them of their chips. Looks are exchanged that were half "Look at this ahole" and the other half "This guy is going to lose all his money."
5:08:12 SB lose an all-in pot. Pay attention to the times every once in a while. Otherwise this would just be about lions. Down one buy in. I believe Virge calls it advertising. The table is excited as SuperBill pulls out another few hundos. In about one orbit (or 10 hands) SB has blown half of that buy-in. The table is very irritated at the drunken stooge but happy to have him there.
5:10 Win first pot. Table has labeled SuperBill a maniac. Willing to call him down with rags. They also hate him. This is very promising.
5:30 Won my buy-ins back, sitting on a ton of chips. Engaging the wiseacre with taunts about how his chips want to run over to the table and play with mine. SB asks if he has stack envy.
5:32 Never count out the mad Texan. Tex told me he'd try and make it out if he had a good night at Shorties. I receive no phone call from him. I assume it wasn't a good night. Strike that, wasn't a great night, he was at Shorty's I'm sure it was a good night. Read SouthPaw Rounder's blog on that place.
5:33 Friend in Seattle farts in the mouth of different sleeping girl.
5:33 SuperBill is the only one awake from the bachelor party.
6:32 am Have great reads on everybody at the table. They all want to bust SB. SB makes a bluff on the one tight guy, shows it, and then the guy becomes irate even though he's been laughing at my nonsense prior to that. This play confirms I'm a maniac. Wiseacre is kind enough to tutor SB and tell SB why that bluff was such a dumb poker move.
SB: Hey have your seen your chips recently. They appear to have left home. And these chips in front of me look a lot like yours. Well, all the chips look-a-like but these look especially like the ones you used to have. Yes, they have your dirty fingerprints all over them. Were you eating nachos earlier? Or do you hands just smell like cheese. You like cheese? You want some Fromundacheese? ... No? O.K.
Table: Fromundacheese?
SB: From unda my balls.
7:30 am SB has really tightened up even though table hasn't noticed. Proceed to win pot after pot as the table alternates trying to run down SuperBill with second pair. You can make so much more money when you are hated. There's no question about it. The problem is being that guy. Nothing redeemable about SuperBill. I'm almost embarrassed to exagerate about him.
8:00 am (Maybe it was 9 maybe it was 10 but the first Caesers Tournament is about to start). I got two racks of chips in front of me. SB takes his winnings and tells the table he's leaving. Three or four players also cash out pissed.
"I'm the asshole?"
8:10 am Join tournament. Here's where the memory is as blurry as it gets. Memory is a funny thing. SuperBill never blacks out or forgets anything he just doesn't rush his memories. I had a friend who used to black out and then deny he did what we said he did. On one of his tamer nights he used the oven in our apartment as a percussion instrument, timing the slamming of its door to match his chant "Kappa Kappa Gamma, Kappa Kappa Slamma, I slam Kappa Kappa Gammas." Our next door neighbors were Kappas. No lion was paid, his mating song was unsuccessful. Obviously, the oven door did not survive. Like many things in his hands at 3 am in the morning they were quickly and always much to his surprise broken.
After one night when a lazy boy had been dismantled, by accident of course, and we brought another one of his destructions to his attention, he said, "I never do the things that you say I do. You just know that I can't remember what I did last night, so you blame everything on me because you know I won't remember." I loved the logic. This was the same guy who kicked a guy in the knee and tore his ACl to shreds and immediately said, "There's no way you can blame this one on me."
Anyway, my memory from a lack of sleep and an excess of chicken drop shots at the Pai Gow table draws a blank on most of this tournament. When my friends had woken up and started the day, SuperBill was still alive with two tables to go. SuperBill was also behind a mountain of chips. Apparently, the F-Bomb isn't allowed because they heard SuperBill drop it about 20 times and his friend the bemused mustachio'd floorman give him a warning each time. The other players were exasperated. Finally, the F bomb flys out of SuperBill's mouth one more time.
Floorman: I have to give you a penalty.
SB: I don't get a f**king warning?
Much laughter. Floorman thought SuperBill was HE-LARIOUS. One of that .01%.
Floorman: You have to get up. One orbit penalty (which means ten hands have to be dealt around the table with SuperBill not in the action but his chips going toward the blinds and antes as if he was there and his cards just being folded--explanation for the nonpoker playing friends reading).
SB: I have to get up?
Floorman: One orbit penalty. It's got to go around the table before you can sit back down.
SB: Go around the table before I can sit back down?
SuperBill of course walks around the table and sits back down (fully knowing the rules).
SB: One orbit. Deal me in Dealer. And what is your name?
Dealer: Eeeets Joan.
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