Born 30 something years ago into a card-playing clan in the North of England: the low-roller's poker odyssey has taken him from the school common-room via down-trodden Midlands' casinos, smoky Cotswolds pubs, celebrity Soho drinking spots and of course the ubiquitous world of cyberspace to the home of poker itself, Las Vegas. Join his search for juicy take-downs, great pot odds and the occasional back-door straight as he goes for glory.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Ass Juice
One of the highlights of last night's frolics was our stint at the Double-Down dive bar. The bar's speciality was 'ass juice' - still unsure of its contents, but it worked for us. I've posted a photo of our new friend 'Crash' from Santa Barbara. We proceeded from there to the poker tables at the Imperial Palace, where our cards ran dry but our throats didn't. Stu managed to lose his passport and $3K at the blackjack tables. I explained to him today how that might have come to pass, as I saw him, wandering round the restrooms with his pants around his ankles having handbags with a punter. He's still in denial about this but it may explain why his passport was found by the cleaner in the trash. Stu taxied home early, we got back at 9, still laughing and still toasting the King of Spain. I woke up feeling surprisingly good and the day has been getting better ever since. Poker has not been on today's agenda - tomorrow we're all back in the fray, me at the $1K Bellagio deep-stack. I'm off the drink and feeling good - we have an invite from Doyle Brunson to a poker party at Sapphires strip club....Evil Dennis is plotting again.
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