Freerollin', Dancin', and the Story of My Balls

So yesterday night did indeed kick ass, much as I thought it would. Around 5:00pm, the roommates and I headed to the Rio to play our PokerNews freeroll. I think there were 60 of us playing, and I managed to make the final table. Time was getting on, and we chopped it up ten ways for $500 each. That was 4th-place money, and I was starting to get a little bit short, so I was fine with that. I also collected on two little last-longer bets. Ship ship.

Then it was time to head to the Palms for the PokerStars Burlesque Party. It was poppin'. Rain is a pretty nice place, and free bars on every side of the room could make even the lamest of parties light up. This was no lame party either. We walked in to smokin' hot girls dancing under spotlights in the corners of the room. There was also a circular trapeze thing over the middle of the floor, and there was another scantily-clad female up there shaking her proverbial groove thang. And every so often, they would open the stage curtain and put on a short burlesque show. Hotness.

The majority of the PokerStars pros were in attendance, including Daniel Negreanu, Joe Hachem, Humberto Brenes, Victor Ramdin, Hevad Khan, and a very-drunk Bill Chen. Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell, of UFC fame, was there as well. The party wore down around 1:00am, as a lot of the attendees had to wake up early to play (or cover) Day 2 of the Main Event. I was smashed, and not that tired, so I followed Chris Boncek, Garry, Leon, Mark and his girlfriend out to the Palms casino floor where we huddled around a fresh blackjack table. I was running good and somehow managed to turn $200 into $2,225 in about two hours or so. Ship ship that too. That put me up almost $3,000 on the day, which was sorely needed following my recent spending binge and a couple losing sessions in a row on the poker tables.

Wait, back it up. Important details left out of the PokerStars party. And even the freeroll before that. So, at said freeroll, about halfway through, I got moved to the table of my arch-nemesis, Joe Schepis. The cockbag Joe Schepis... not to be confused with any other Joe Schepis. (This is only going to be fun because he reads my blog, apparently. It's not even worth mentioning apart from that.) It's hard to describe with real words why I loathe that dude. There's just something about him. He's "that guy", if you know what I mean. He's a know-it-all who talks to people as if he's the only one who is informed on a particular subject. That high and mighty thing really gets to me. The only person that likes Joe Schepis is Joe Schepis. He is an utter and complete tool box.

So anyways, just a couple hands in, he's up to his usual Hollywood shit, taking forever to make a decision and just being an ass to the whole table -- all his workmates, mind you. I ask him once to hurry it up, and he says, "Why, are you gonna blog about it?" So that's how I found out he googled his own name and found himself in one of my previous -- and related -- blog posts. He gets moved a short time later and eventually ran out of chips, much to my delight. But there was carryover cooking.

Fast forward to Rain, about the time the night calms down and everyone is sufficiently hammered. I am standing on the upper level overlooking the room and enjoying myself with a little group of us PokerNews-ers. Joe comes out of the shadows, walks up to me, doesn't say a word, and with a full windup, punches me squarely in the balls. It is literally the hardest I've ever been hit there, and it dropped me right to my knees. Everyone was on Joe, telling him how fucked up that was, but I couldn't do anything about it at that particular moment. I found one of the lounge couches and hung out there until I regained feeling in my nuts. As soon as my legs started working again, I stood up, walked straight over to Joe, and drilled him in the face. I guess I drew blood above his eye, but I really couldn't see much. We tussled for a minute or two, and then again one more time before we left. I honestly don't know how he fared, but I think I got one or two more fists on or near his face. He had me bent-over in a headlock at one point, so I attempted to return the ball-striking favor, but he didn't even flinch. Interesting.

It was pretty fucked up, unless I'm missing something here. I have never really gotten in a fight with anyone. I'm either very agreeable or a total pussy. But seriously, where's the one place guys are simply not allowed to aim for when fighting another guy? That's right boys and girls. The balls. At least I was hammered enough to get back on my feet quickly. Although, I honestly wish I had been stone-cold sober so I could have caved his face in properly. If anyone deserves it, it's Mr. Joe Schepis.

Fortunately, I had the aforementioned amazing session at the blackjack table, and riding home counting my money did well for the pain.

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Today, I was back way too early to cover Day 2a of the Main Event. It went well-enough, I suppose. Credit for that goes to Dave "F-train" Behr, who was kind enough to take the second half of my shift so that I could go home at the dinner break. He refused, but I shipped him $60 for being so generous. For the short time I worked, I had a good time trying to size up Schepis' facial situation without being too conspicuous about it. I was also railing Jeremiah Smith for a while. He was a big stack all day, and was even the chip leader for exactly one hand. They are still playing now, but I have an eye on the live updates, sweating him from across town. Jeremiah is really a monstrous tournament player. He makes all the right moves early on and knows how to use his stack. Take it down, fool!

I made it home a little after 8:00pm, puttered around for a bit, wrote this, and now: bed. I swear, this is going to be the best night of sleep ever in the history of mankind. I will get to that catching-up thing soon, I swear. Until then.