Friday after 8:30am was naught but sweet slumber. Woke up around 2pm, did some emails, some phone calls, ate a decent greasy breakfast over at the Golden Gate cafe, then went straight back to bed for more sweet slumber. In a normal poker-blogger, this would mean that life is grand for another sunrise service at the 2/4 table. Not so me. I ambled over to the Border’s for a new book and the In-and-Out for the greatest cheeseburger in the West (I still regret not having another before I left). Then it was on to…

…The Excalibur, and the Storming thereof. I was a very poor stormer — my knighthood was revoked. I got immediately on the list for NL, which took about an hour to get a seat. I bought in for $200, then proceeded to fold away small blinds, big blinds, min raises, 3-4x raises, everything. Never saw a hand to showdown in 2 hours. I finally got disgusted with myself and my crappy play, and am-scrayed with $140 of that initial $200. Went back to the Palace, grabbed a super-jumbo iced tea from the McD in the lobby, and hermitted with my book for the rest of the day and night. And unfortunately, all of that rest was just totally wasted for the next day’s…

WPBT Event at the Aladdin. About the best thing I can say about this tournament is that I was instrumental in Bill Rini’s win. That’s right, without me, it might not have happened. I, The Fat Guy, gave Big Bill a ride from the Plaza over to the Aladdin. See, I have my uses.

The tournament part of the day was fairly sucky. I get pretty pissed at these poker rooms who are more than happy to take our buy-ins, the bonus add-ons, the “voluntary” dealer tokes, the rake from the ring games played after we bust out, yet have no compunction giving us crap-shoot blind structures. I mean this in no way to reflect on CJ, who pulled the tournament itself together. That part of it came off without a hitch, and I’m deeply appreciative for what he did. Lemme tell ya, there is no way I’d put up with 60 individuals asking me questions, ignoring instructions, and generally doing their own thing. Patience of a saint. To top it off, once I realized what the situation was, I wanted a damn drink, and it took 30 minutes for the waitress to bring it to me. I was half-steaming.

Now, at the table, of course, I have the eventual winner (Rini) to my left, Easycure to my right, blank seat, on around to The Rooster, and lord knows who else. I play a crappy game of tournament poker, with one or two blind wins, and I think I pushed someone off a pot with a big bet where I would have had a winner, since I was only playing my cards. The only interesting part of the tournament for me was when the blank seat was filled by none other than Pokerati Dan, fresh in off of a night of playing local N. LV casinos. Dan figured prominently in my one memorable hand. Flopped a boat, and couldn’t induce him to go all-in, so I probably played it wrong on all streets. Still, it was just enough to last a few more levels, and I went out on something dumb, I’m sure. I forget. Doesn’t matter.

Following the tourney, of course, were cocktails at the bar playing video poker. This was the best part of the day. I talked to The Rooster forever, it seems. He had to have been just dying for me to shut up, so he could go hang with his own age group, but it was really cool shooting the breeze with the son of a chicken farmer all grown to be an international law big wig. I also bent the ear of Joe, Sr. for a little bit about all the WSOPs that he’s seen. I encouraged him to somehow, someway get his 30 years of WSOP pictures copyrighted, copied, and online for the world to enjoy. Al, of course, was ever the sweet boy and buying me St. Pauli’s Darks, and I was smoking a good cigar, so it was grand. Just the way it should be.

So, then on Saturday comes the LaSalsa Cantina. Which featured many drunken bloggers, sober bloggers, tourists doing karaoke, and lest we all be disappointed…a freaking Elvis impersonator. So cheeseball…very, very cheeseball. But the margs were good, the company was superb, the frivolity level was high. I think that, at some point, everybody there had to have stepped back into themselves, taken a look at what was happening, and said “How?” I still don’t know, but it was just great. It was at this point that the loverly Eva wound up with my hat, and I never saw it again. That’s fine…it looks better on her than it does on me.

Next up…my brave foray into the Golden Nugget and Plaza poker rooms. But before I go, I want to reiterate how much I appreciate CJ’s work on the tournament. I couldn’t do it, and I bet you couldn’t, either.

OK, we just got this nailed down. I know everyone thinks I was being a panicky drama-queen girl about going to LW, but this was on my mind and causing consternation, too. I keep telling you, I really do have lots of irons in the fire, and I really don’t feel right if I’m not giving them the attention they deserve. Especially when it comes to gambling my hard-earned mortgage money.

Wow, what an overwhelming response to Dirt’s 2nd Annual Electric Campfire June 10th and 11th.

So here’s the Dirt (ha ha)

$15.00 Admission
$10.00 Camping all weekend
RV spots are limited - $30.00 one day, $50.00 for the weekend

Friday night is ‘acoustic open mic’ till about 9.30pm then it’s Surprise Guest DAVIN JAMES to rock out the rest of the evening. If your interested in performing at the open mic or need any more info about that weekend please give Dirt a ring at 817-456-9918.

Saturday the lineup goes like this here

• Fat Boys In the Round
• Derrick Smith
• Johnny Mack
• Terry Rasor and Over The Edge
• James Hinkle
• Morris Price
• Ponty Bone

Dirt appreciates all the love and support and can’t wait to see ya on the river..

Let me give you my recommendations. Numero Uno, you can rest assured that NOBODY on this lineup sucks. I’ll give you your money back out of my own pocket if you’re not happy (the only question I’ll ask is how fast you can get your lame ass off my land.)

Can’t say enough about Davin James. Guitar-slinging Houston boy with a huge following, tons of respect from his fellow musicians, and he & the band travel in a converted horse trailer, which if you don’t love that, I don’t want to know ye. Terry Rasor is my pard in Raz on the Braz, hottest music festival in Texas. I love him and Tana to pieces. Heard his band two (three?) weeks ago at a motorsickle rally and of course, my legs hurt from bopping around like a fat white boy. Johnny Mack is a FW blues-shouter that plays a mean rub-board. Chances are that James Hinkle will join him and then go on to play a wicked set of brilliant Gibson hollow-body blues. Little secret: I’m still enough of a fanboy to be frightened of James’ super-coolness.

Most important, of course, is supporting my good buds, Dirt and Mike. I’ve written about these two hayseeds before, but I can’t be arsed to dig out the posts. Dirt and Mike aren’t brothers, but they are. They are two of the finest musicians you will find in Texas, both of them. Either one could pick up a stringed instrument and have a crowd around them doing moonshine jigs in 30 seconds. I love them both and I’m thrilled to be able to help out with getting something started for, I guess, Dirt, being as his name is on the thing. But I know Mikey is heavily involved…he’s just shy and prefers to pass (out) in the background.

Bottom line: you get a weekend of local music by some of the finest musicians in Texas, dirt-cheap accomodations (ahem-$50 off the normal price), probably a free beer or two if you walk up to the right person at the right time, river time, and of course, the company of ME. Which is priceless.

C’mon down, hayseeds!    

UPDATE: I hear that lop-eared pup Ben Wright, one of my favorite people in this world, is going to play. Wheee!