Archive Dec 2009: Bond18

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The story of the Bond18 Christmas party

Before my trip I threw a birthday party in my apartment for my friend Lachie. At our high point we had perhaps 40 or 50 people in the place and everyone had a blast. We decided to make it a semi regular thing, and leading up to Christmas we decided that the weekend before the holidays we'd have our bash. I got my friend Tim involved and we set things in motion; Lachie would sort the DJ's and equipment, Tim did the promotion, and I stocked up on booze plus hired two models to work behind the bar for the party.

Lachie invited friends from his music scene, I invited a small amount of guys from poker, and both Tim and I got onto friends in our local pick up community and let them know what was going down. There was only one rule for the pick up boys; they must bring a girl or show up in a group with an equal or above girl to guy ratio. We set our party for Saturday the 19th from 9pm to 4am and got the word out.

The night of the party the boys rocked up early and helped set **** up. The models got there early too so I oriented them with the apartment and what their jobs would be. We had considered setting one of them outside the door, but we quickly realized we would need both to work the bar. We strung up decorations around the flat and then I went upstairs to put signs on the doors to the bedrooms. The apartment is three bedrooms but Jarred and I are the only ones living here, so the middle bedroom was decided as the "designated sex room". I put a "NO ENTRY" sign on our rooms, and then a different sign on the middle room:

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I also placed a few condoms in the top drawer on the side of the bed, because being thoughtful is how I roll.

Lachie had lined up a number of DJ's to play for us, and Tim got on the tracks as well. I decided that although I would drink over the course of the night, I'd make sure not to get totally smashed so I could stay in control of my own apartment. After that we just let the people roll in and the mayhem ensue. I ran around the party for the first three hours greeting people, making introductions, and checking the noise level outside the apartment.

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Our bartenders.

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A very discrete photographer.

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At our high point we must have had 75-100 people in there. Not many pictures reflect that, but this one will give you a sense for it:
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The man himself and our photographer for the evening, Damo.

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Tim gets cozy with one of the models.

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Lachie takes a moment off from party running duties.

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A little after midnight Lachie and Tim told me that they would take over the managing duties for a while so I could knock off and enjoy myself. I grabbed another beer and made my way around the party for some banter. I either knew most of the people I ran into or they came up to introduce themselves, but I'd seen one hot, tall girl in a white dress hanging around that I had no clue about. While chatting to my friend Martin I noticed her sitting over on the stairs by herself looking bored. Given the situation of the party I went up and said the most obvious thing that occurred "Hi, I don't think we've met."
"Oh hi, I'm XXXXXX."
"Nice to meet you, how'd you hear about the party?"
"Oh I came with my friend Liam."
"Ah okay cool."
"I actually know who you are though. I've read your blog. I like what you wrote about pick up."
"Thanks! Wait...what?"
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"Yea, I've read the game and known about that stuff for a few months now."

We hung out chatting on the stairs for a few minutes before I suggested we go outside where it wasn't so loud. We continued talking mostly about pick up; how most guys treat women, what it's like for her knowing about it on a girls side, how the sexual double standard for men and women is incredibly retarded, how she doesn't give a **** about what anyone thinks of her, how epic I think it is that she knows all this stuff. Perhaps five to ten minutes into our chat she looked me in the eyes and said "It's kind of loud out here, do you have anywhere more private we could chat?"
"Lead the way."

I took her hand and walked her through the party, desperately attempting to avoid eye contact with anyone who might stop me to chat. When we got upstairs we found several people waiting outside for the bathroom in the hall and a couple girls in my room looking to grab things from their purse's (as I'd turned my room into storage for the night.) Seconds later Lachie came up the stairs and told me that security was at the door and needed to talk to me. I was not pleased.

I went downstairs and spoke to security remarkably politely for how bad they had just ****-blocked me. He said there had been a noise complaint and that we'd have to turn the music off. I apologized for the disruption and told him I'd take care of it. I went back inside and told the DJ that we had to cut the music or I risked eviction, prompting him to ask if he could finish his set. They are a proud bunch those DJ's. I told him that wasn't possible, then jumped on the table and started yelling at everyone that we were going to have to shut the music down but the party could go on. Additionally I had surprise for them, that we had arranged a burlesque show! Tim's ex-girlfriend Anita set up a little space and got to work on her show, which I watched briefly before returning upstairs in search of XXXXXX. I found her with a group outside my door, and made a few seconds of banter before I said "Want to see my balcony?" We stepped inside my room. "Smooth" she teased me. "Well all smooth lines aside I actually wouldn't mind going out on the balcony and hanging out for a bit, you seem really interesting." I wasn't bull****ting or anything; I never get to talk to girls who know about pick up before meeting me and I found the whole thing fascinating. We talked for a bit but eventually the tension became a bit too much so I leaned in and started kissing her. A moment later we were inside on the bed, furiously making out and losing clothing. We had just gotten down to our underwear when a girl from outside my room called in begging for her purse. I looked at XXXXXX quizzically; "It's cool" she told me. "Yea! Okay!" I called out. The girl came in apologizing profusely while I stood there in my underwear and XXXXXX lay on the bed in hers. She hustled out and I returned to bed as quickly as possible. Thank God I didn't get too drunk.

We had sex for quite some time. When it was done I got up and my legs were so blown out that I accidentally stumbled and smashed over the wine bottle she'd brought upstairs, soaking my floor in red wine. After I cleaned it up we lay in bed for a moment. "Man I want to see Avatar" I remarked.
"Oh my God I know! I can't wait for that!"
"Sick! Let's go, let's go to Avatar right now!"
"It's like 2am or something."
"****ing details! Well I wish we could just like, fall asleep right this second, wake up instantly, and go to Avatar. Stoned of course."
"Oh absolutely, you have to see it stoned. Do you have some here?"
"Naturally. Want to smoke?"
"I'll go get it."

I went downstairs and found perhaps a couple dozen people left at the party. I was ambushed left and right by drunks while I scrounged about for my weed, simultaneously attempting to make chat that didn't seem overly rushed and rude yet get back to the naked girl longing for pot in my bed. When I returned upstairs I ground up some weed and rolled a joint. We stood by the door to the balcony smoking it and I sized her up for a moment. "How tall are you?"
"About six-two."
"Whoa seriously? Hold on stand next to me for a moment in front of the mirror." We did and I realized she was roughly an inch taller than me, just as she'd said.
"Damn, you're the first girl I've ever slept with that's taller than me."

The remainder of the evening was spent lying in bed talking about this and that, being interrupted by girls begging for their purses who got them given back by me in my underwear, and smoking another joint while discussing how excited we were for Avatar. We fell asleep with me joking about how she was tall enough to be the big spoon. She left sometime early in the morning; I can barely remember.

In the morning I came downstairs to a thoroughly ruined apartment. I called the cleaning guy. With an apartment too trashed to play poker in and a beautiful day outside I decided there was only one responsible thing to do; go out and chat up girls during the day.

Note: I messaged XXXXXX about writing this blog entry and whether she wanted anything left out to which she replied "Haha full name and address? (I don't know either) Nothing particular dude, write away."

On that day, seven years ago

I can still remember the first time I played poker with my friends. It was just a little over seven years ago, and I was recently 18. We were at a friends house watching a Monday night football game playing five card draw for what I believe was a 10 dollar buy in, though it might have been five. I know for certain that I lost 20 dollars.

At that point in my life I was strongly considering a stint in the military; I wanted to be a marine. My parents were terrified at the idea, but I had already met with the recruiter twice and was keen to sign the papers. My interest in gambling began in sports betting, and I would run around during class with a sheet with all the games betting lines, offering it to whoever might want action. I had a job I hated at Damon's restaurant, an obsession with bodybuilding, and not much else going for me. I was an average student with no concrete ambitions, awkward with women to the degree of uselessness, and lacking any legitimate talent outside of the motivation to be a huge meat-head. But then I found poker.

I knew it was what I wanted for my life near instantly. I would sit and watch every second of the WPT or WSOP broadcasts and could rattle off hand after hand from each episode. I thought the pros I watched were amazing and I'd have arguments with friends about who was the best. I was a full blown fan-boy. I started playing at every opportunity, and read any book I could get my hands on. I lost all interest in military enlistment. When I told people this was what I wanted for a career they shook their heads and asked if I had a gambling problem. At the time I didn't have words like "equity" or "variance" to explain myself, all I knew was that the game seemed to be the only place I could actually focus my mental energy.

It went on that way for years. In college I'd sit in the back of class with my laptop open, watching the afternoon $100 rebuys on Stars and wishing I too could be playing. Eventually I found out the campus had wireless internet and classes were spent playing instead of watching. I was surrounded by theater students killing themselves trying to get a leg up or land the big part and I couldn't possibly have cared less. When one of my professors told me I should audition for his elite acting program I thought he might have a seizure when I replied with "Ah thanks, but that would be too big a time commitment away from poker."

The game has a quick ostracizing affect. I began falling away from my friends, electing to stay in and play tournaments instead of go get drunk many weekends. By the time I moved to Australia and found myself in a long term relationship I realized I didn't have a single friend outside of the poker world. It stayed that way for over three years. Unless you're careful and proactive to prevent it, the game will separate and isolate you from regular society. You live on different hours and think in different ways. You have to watch the way you talk; not in the risk of vulgarity but that you might be accidentally rude. Poker players talk about money like a tool (which it is for us) and wind up forgetting that we bluntly discuss hands that involve most peoples weekly pay check like they are nothing. It's not unusual for the bulk of a persons social circle to be made up of people from their industry, but in ours it comes with so many consequences. It's an industry rife with liars, cheats, and scumbags, not to mention a guy to girl ratio that makes the military look like the Playboy mansion. I am not complaining though, because this world is what I am now. There's no going back to the real world when a simple Google search will turn up videos of you drunkenly lighting yourself on fire or stories about the time you let that girl stab you during sex. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The only thing that concerns me is poker's longevity. There are many good signs about the industry; new markets taking off, the WSOP ratings going up in key demographics, growth on most major online networks, the continuing giant fields every summer in Vegas. However, this is an industry that cannibalizes itself, where once money reaches certain hands it's no longer in circulation. It wouldn't shock me if the game remained profitable throughout my lifetime, but it also wouldn't shock me if it became far less lucrative in the next few years. It's why day after day, week after week, for the whole year, you'll find me billion tabling the day away and posting on the strategy forums by night. Seven years ago failure would have sucked, but it would have been easily redeemable. Today it is out of the question.

See you on the tables.

Tiger Woods isn't a sex addict, he's just retarded

I never liked Tiger Woods. I never disliked him either, as far as I was concerned he wasn't interesting enough to feel strongly about. I was always a John Daly fan; a big fat guy who crushed the ball, smoked on the course, drank and gambled all night, dated a Hooters waitress, wrote a tell all book, and despite his flaws was just so lovably human. Sure Woods could win every golf tournament imaginable, but nothing about his personality or style was particularly engaging. As we all know, it turns out Tiger Woods was a lot more interesting than we gave him credit for. Too bad he's a lying, sell out piece of shit.

Some might think that I might have some sympathy for Woods given my lifestyle choices. And sure, I can understand the desire to sleep around, which would be particularly hard to resist were you a rich and famous sports star. But I have no sympathy for Woods, only scorn and vitriol. Woods is the kind of guy that gives ladies men their often deserved bad name, a liar and cheat who will risk anything and everything to get off. What truly disgusts me about Woods though, is what a colossal fucking sell out he is. They call him the billion dollar sportsman, and we all know he would have never got that kind of money had he been out in the open about his drug use and girl chasing. No, had he been that kind of guy with his golf talent he only would have earned several hundred million dollars, because a sponsorship from Playboy and Trojan doesn't pay quite as well as Buick and Nike. Lord knows you just can't live the appropriate baller lifestyle on nine figures. He could have been himself though, instead of lying to his family, his fans, and all the people that looked up to him.

If Woods had been open (and not married) about how he rolls the guy would have been my hero. A dude who takes drugs, sleeps with loads of women, then rocks up in the morning fresh and proceeds to be crush everyone else would be just so epic. I'd have posters of him on my wall and write him fan mail asking him how it's done, how to balance it all at once. Instead he constructed an elaborate web of lies which covered, as far as we can tell, his entire personal life. Now he's claiming to be a "sex addict", because apparently, he isn't tired of insulting the public's intelligence just yet. With incredibly rare exceptions, "sex addiction" is what men who get caught being men like to claim to gain sympathy when they simply don't have the balls to own up to their horny behavior. Given what I've seen in the poker industry, if every guy who routinely cheated on his wife or girlfriend were a sex addict then the vast majority of the industry is badly in need of professional help.

Fuck Tiger Woods and the Buick that coward rode in on. Daly for the win!
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Success and failure

I've been actively posting on the 2+2 tournament forums since early 2006. In those days Party was the highest volume tournament sight and Paradise poker was thriving. I got myself involved in the community as quickly as possible, and wound up befriending most of the major posters of that time period. I keep sporadic contact with many of them on AIM and MSN, and in the case of the active live players often run into them at major tournaments. Having dropped out of college and spent so much time moving from country to country they became the closest thing I had to a normal social circle for many years.

It's been fascinating for me to watch their evolution in both poker and life. Some guys have faded away never to be heard from again, some have gained success on an enormous scale, and in the case of many they simply burned out and chose to pursue different options in life. It makes me sit back and wonder what causes some guys to fail and some to succeed. It makes me wonder how a Superman like Shaundeeb can crush tournaments the way he does but one day just up and quit (though we all know he'll be back.) It makes me wonder how seven years into this I can't possibly imagine doing anything else for a living while so many around me detest their occupation.

After mulling this all over for a while I've come up with a list for what I think creates success in the poker world. It is not listed in order of significance:

1. Bankroll and money management: Although I'm not putting these in any particular order, if there's one thing I felt comfortable for placing at number one on this list it's definitely bankroll management. When I went back to look at the "Things it took me a while to learn" article I wrote on bankroll management it seemed woefully inadequate and so I'm writing a more complete entry on the subject. There is an endless list of negative consequences to fucking up your bankroll management. It will absolutely ruin your long term equity; if you take a shot in a very soft game where losing means inhibiting you from playing your normal stakes for some duration then you might not even be gaining equity by playing in the game. The emotional devastation of losing all or a major portion of your bankroll can be crippling and wreck your will to grind. Some guys in the poker community are admired for their willingness to go broke; I'll never understand that one (though watching someone like Isildur1 degen it off is certainly entertaining.)

2. Volume and grinding: Very few guys can get away learning and mastering this game without putting in much volume at it. My roommate Jarred Graham has become one of the best all around players in Australia (in terms of being good at many things, I would personally argue the best) within just a few years of play. He's a smart guy, but not some kind of freakish genius. He mostly became as good as he is because he worked his balls off playing nearly every day of the week during the period he was coming up. My personal mentality on grinding is "If you can fit it,(and it won't substantially cut your equity in other tournaments) play it." You can find me in a $24 freezeout the same time I'm playing a $100 rebuys. I really don't give a shit about only being seen in the high buy in or "pro's" tournaments and grinding the small ones reduces my variance.

One of my favorite authors is Malcolm Gladwell, a common choice amongst poker players. I would recommend everything the man has written but of particular interest for poker players would be his most recent work Outliers. In it, Gladwell discusses that in almost every example of enormous talent or ability the subject had put in at least 10,000 hours to achieve mastery in that field, yet the public often confused them for a natural genius in their specialty. He can elaborate on the concept much better than I can but the message is simple; if you want to be good at this you had better put in the work.

3. Emotional control: At his peak, a poker player should be 100% non reactionary. Nothing should phase him, and his emotional investment or interest in the outcome of a hand should be zero. Guy's like Ivey and Antonius are masters of this trade; they could be shot in the leg or have Scarlett Johansson call begging for sex and the difference between reactions would be non existent. Then again, both those guys have so much money it's not hard for them to be so disinterested. People often wonder why the Scandinavians are often such excellent natural poker players, and while I have no proof on the matter I'm overwhelmingly confident it's because they are a naturally cold and logical people. Meanwhile many of the players from more..."passionate" countries, tend to be pretty fucking awful.

Unfortunately, it seems difficult to practice being detached and disinterested so many hours of the day and not have it spill over into your personality. After seven years in poker I've reached a stage where nothing bothers me in anymore. I took a one outer for almost my whole stack 20 minutes into the WSOP main event this year and shrugged then laughed a little. Conversely, friends and women I date routinely describe me as "cold", "detached" and the ever common "robotic." I'm still looking to find the balance with this one.

4. Taking breaks: For all the practiced and developed emotional control, most people stay fairly human. This means they burn out and get exhausted of the game frequently enough that a break here and there will do them good. Hell, I know for sure that having spent six of the last eight months traveling (and most of that time getting wasted and chasing girls) has done wonders for my mentality; all I ever want to do anymore is grind. I suppose if you feel happy grinding seven days a week 12 months a year with no breaking I wouldn't advise you to stop, but most people seem to need a breather from time to time.

Even small breaks to pursue a passion outside of poker will be beneficial. We've all got external interests, and hopefully with the money you gain from grinding hard at poker you can actively pursue them. For me it's dating, going to the gym, and getting stoned, but it might be any number of different things for you. Need a recommendation? Call of Duty on Xbox360, that shit is awesome. God I wish I had more time to play.

5. Staying in shape: This is so totally underrated amongst poker players. Near everyone knows you function better mentally when staying active physically, and it's nowhere close as hard as most guys make it out to be. Many of us grew up playing a sport and if feasible, I'd recommend picking it up again. Otherwise, for guys who are grinding hard it's really not that expensive to hire a dietitian and personal trainer who will make corrections to your diet and keep you motivated in the gym. Only a few active sessions a week and editing out junk food will make a noticeable change within a few months not only aesthetically, but in varied other positive aspects.

6. Being social with your other poker players: Learning this game alone is very hard. Having other guys to compare thoughts with, calibrate your ranges, swap notes, and motivate each other is invaluable. It's obviously in my best interest to say this, but coaching is a good idea for many guys too. I've paid four different guys for coaching at some point (Adam Junglen, NoahSD, Mike Watson, and SEABEAST) and every time they found ways to make me better. Shit, I ought to hire someone for a session some time soon considering how much grinding I'm going to be doing.

Routinely talking poker with contemporaries will do wonders for your game and social life when you travel to tournaments. Lord knows how much I learned in friendly conversations with Luckychewy, MikeJ, JayPez, Gobboboy, Randallin, Eagles, Jarred Graham, Steve Leonard, and on and on. I discovered little on my own in this game; I am merely a composition of smart peoples thoughts channeled through my own style and discipline.

Sydney APPT 2009

Sydney has always been one of my favorite stops in the tour. I arrived late in a cool sumer evening the night of the 28th off a 10 hour flight from Honolulu, having missed all relevant preliminary events. Every day after that was perfect outside. As soon as I arrived I found my Australian friends at their apartment in Star City.

Naturally we rolled a number of joints and passed them around. We went downstairs into the lobby and ran straight into a line of eight police men with a drug dog. There was a moment like a Western movie showdown, where everyone stares seemingly forever into each others eyes; the very blurry and red ones in our case. The dog went staight for Stevo, the most stoner looking one of us, and the police pulled him aside. Twenty minutes and one thorough search later and we were off to dinner. Nobody had been carrying.

I decided to play the first day one and get it over straight away. It wound up going extremely well and finished with the chip lead for the day with 104,000 up from the 30,000 starting stack. The key hands were:

Hand 1:

Blinds 200/400, ante of 50.

I hold AKo in the BB.

My stack: ~26,000

HJ: ~8000

Jason Gray in SB: ~36,000

Preflop: Folds around to the HJ, HJ raises to 1100, folds to Australian tournament regular Jason Gray in the SB who makes it 4100. I debated making it 13,000 to look massive or just shoving, and I elected to just shove by putting 24,000 of my stack in. The HJ folded and Jason tanked and made the call.

Flop: K 7 5 rainbow

Jason shoves, I call, he shows QQ. The hand held and Jason said he knew I would play AA or KK that way (which I would to balance my range.) Seems I should have elected to go the 12,000 route and possibly gotten him to fold the QQ.

Hand 2:

Blinds 300/600 with 50 ante.

I hold KsQs in the SB

My stack: ~60,000

BB: ~30,000

Preflop: UTG limps, 1 fold, MP1 limps, folds to me in the BB, I complete, BB checks.

Flop: Js Tc 4s

I lead 1200, BB makes it 3300, folds back to me, I make it 11,000, he shoves, I call. He has JTo.

Turn: 9c

River: X

He looked at me so pissed for getting it in there. Pretty sure he thought I was a massive donk to get it on that draw, that or just generally upset about the situation.

Hand 3:

Previous round we'd played a similar hand where I raised button with J7o he calls big flop A52 check/bet/call, turn 5 check/check, river 8 he bets I fold. I had generally been very aggressive on the button but not very aggressive post flop after the flop unless I had a hand.

Blinds 400/800 with 75 ante.

I hold JcTc on the button.

My stack: ~85,000

BB: ~40,000

Preflop: Folds around to me, I raise to 2000, SB folds, BB calls.

Flop: Ks 5h 2s

BB checks, I bet 3300, BB calls.

Turn: Ac

BB checks, seemed like a really good spot to double barrel and I figured that if river bricks off I should bet any non K, A, or possibly J, T. I think he sometimes calls turn with a king since the ace is a clear scare card, but folds basically every king if I bomb dud river. Clearly bluffing a K or A is a bad idea, and a J or T might be enough showdown value to check back in case he has some kind of mid pair he's hero calling, plus some of his range will be stuff like KJ and KT. I bet 7,200 and he called fairly quick.

River: Qh

Easy game, I bet 16,500 he quickly calls and said he knew I had nothing when I turned my hand over.

By far the most interesting event of the day was the bikey fight though. In Australia bikey is the term for a biker gang member, and they are quite prevalent here in Sydney (and many other major cities as well.)

There was a roughly 60ish year old man playing in the high roller event during the late afternoon of day 1a. A big ass bikey came in and started shouting.

"Stay the fuck out of my business!!!" he threatened in the middle of the room, looming over the old guy.

"I reckon your a rat" returned the old guy.

"A fucking rat!" And with that the bikey lunged upon the old guy and started delivering massive blows to his face. He held his face down then punched up while the old guy struggeled to get free. The room stopped of course and everyone stared at them in awe, not daring to interfere with the enraged bikey. The combantants were perhaps three meters away and it occured to me that at any moment they could smash into where I was standing so I jumped over my chair and stood behind the table. Roughly 10 seconds later they smashed directly into where I had been standing while the bikey rained down punches on the old guy. The floormen attempted to jump in and break up what they thought was a fight and didn't realize was a massacre, so they started holding down the old guy resulting in an even worse thrashing. "You've got the wrong guy!!!" everyone kept yelling.

I'm not sure how long it took security to get there but it seemed forever. When they had finally pulled the bikey off him the old guys face was beat to pieces and he was bleeding all over the place. We sat back down. The dealer asked if we wanted to finish the hand. I said that we did; my straight lost to an over straight. The tournament director put everyone on a must leave the room 15 minute break and we all stood around taking turns making fun of Terrence Chan for not leaping in and destroying the bikey with his jujitsu (though in fairness, you'd have to be completely fucking nuts to start a fight with a bikey that wasn't yours.)

My night off I went out to a jeans company party with Brooke Howard-Smith. I thought for a fashion industry party you couldn't be over dressed in a suit but I was dead the fuck wrong as everyone was in tight jeans and dress shirts buttoned all the way to the top. The only guy with a jacket on was wearing a thin tuxedo jacket paired with a massive V-cut shirt. The music was two Japanese guys connecting numerous electrodes to their face then playing buzzing noises that sort of made music. I decided to get drunk.

I left early to go watch the Danny Green vs Roy Jones Jr fight. I'd run into Danny in the elevator the previous night since he stayed on the floor the boys had the apartment and he seemed like a really nice guy, and came off pure class in the ordeal leading up to it. The guy is a national hero around here now.

I rocked up to day 2 well rested and got things up to around 140,000 before they started going wrong. I lost a couple of straight forward medium pots and then had an interesting spot vs long time Australian pro Leo Boxell who is pretty tight about putting in large amounts of chips post flop and seems to 4X and 5X often pre:

My stack: ~110,000

Leo's stack: ~130,000

Blinds 1000/2000 with 200 ante. I hold 9s 9h in the BB.

Preflop: Folds to Leo in MP2, Leo raises to 8,000, folds to me in the BB, I call.

Flop: 9c Tc Ac

I check, Leo checks.

Turn: Jd

I bet 15,500, Leo quickly announces raise and makes it 40,500, I tank and fold. I just don't think he raises any worse hands and our implied OOP aren't that awesome plus sometimes he can have a set of jacks where we have massive reverse implied.

I busted out go and go'ing 88 for 35 BB's against a guy who had flatted 100% of my three bets against him that day (three or four) and almost never folded to preflop reraises. I started with 72,000 and popped his HJ raise of 7,000 up to 22,000. He flatted pretty quick. The flop came 972 with a flush draw, shoved, and he snapped top set. That was that.

I spent the next couple nights looking to go out. Last night we finally had our big one. It started in Bondi drinking and having dinner with Brooke, his wife Amber, her friend Nicky, Peter Eastgate and his friend Neil. Those Danish dudes are chill as hell and Brooke and Amber are always pure quality. We downed several rounds of Singha beer with our Italian food, then went over to a margarita place and did a round there. I refused the tequila shot as anything brown is pretty much instant vomiting after a few college experiences.

We took things over to "The Scheaf" if I spelled that correctly and met all the Australian online boys there. Even Stevo came out, I assume the apartment was being fumigated. We kept doing shots and mixed drinks and things started getting lose. Neil somehow obtained a plastic gun and gave it to me upon seeing my excitement at his find. I jammed it into my crotch and ran around about the bar asking people "Hey!! Crotch gun, good look or bad look!?" Brooke chased me down and demanded I didn't do that in King's Cross when we went over there and I relinquished my toy to him after much resistance.

We wound up at Piano Bar in King's Cross doing more shots and mixed rinks. A hens night asked us to eat the candy off the brides neck. I jumped enthusiastically at the chance and went to town on her neck. Peter and Neil soon followed. I started flirting with the bridal party and took one of them dancing. The whole group showed up and we went about the business of getting smashed. There was an excellent band playing, and by late into the night I was hugging everyone I saw and had obtained some sort of glowing dildo from another hens night which I ran about brandishing in a threatening manner at people, from the Australian grinders, to the Danes, to pokerstars staff, to my ex Celina. Nobody was spared the sight and potential harm of the glowing dildo.

I woke up exhausted from it all today. I decided to take it easy, so I went up to the boys apartment, got stoned, and met up with Peter and Neil to check out the movie "ZombieLand". I haven't done much else since except write this blog entry, and I'll go to bed and return to Melbourne tomorrow.

It's been a long but fun month of travel. Although I never had a night so big I wound up vomiting or feeling very ill the next morning I realize now that after being alcohol free for two months in Melbourne I spent nearly every night of the last month engaged in some degree of social drinking save the ones before a tournament. It will be nice to be so clean again for a while in Melbourne.

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