lol^

if you are talking aout "the armenian express" that guy is NOT a poker pro. He plays way way way too poorly to beat basically any game I have ever seen.

[QUOTE=Ron_Burgundy;4007046I once shouted at Tony G across the casino, CAN YOU FEEL MY POWER BABY? ON YOUR BIKE!!![/QUOTE]


link to video PLZ lmao

I did aswell, it is a shame that the fbi and atf kicked in the door and shut the play down, also the place in medway if you were familiar. I was not too impressed with his game at all.

I played with Tom Schneider's wife once.

Would u mind elaborating on this one plz?

I love it, I love it...

nh, wp sir

I was at my favorite generic watering hole, smoking Luckys and sipping gin, always gin. Bad country music played low, almost drowned out by the clatter of billiard balls as a couple of locals took a game of nine-ball far too seriously. Darlene, whose impending meth habit would ultimately endear her to young town virgins wishing to lay down their cherry, was dancing listlessly with some local cowboy wannabe I recognized but didn’t know. Ernie was working bar by himself, or would have been had there been anyone near it. Thelma Suzie, the bar wench, had left early. Tuesdays here were slow death, a wake with nothing but an empty promise.

A short, squat figure strolls in and begins talking to Ernie. Ernie listens, then looks over at me before walking over. The figure follows Ernie with eyes that peer intensely through epicanthic folds.

“Chinaman wants a game.”

I kept my eyes on Ernie.

“Blood match?”

Ernie nodded.

I looked over at the bar. The man was wearing a shirt that looked as if a box of neon crayons had been in the pocket when it had been last washed. He stared back.

“Alright”

I broke the Chinaman’s gaze, got up, and ambled past the tiny dance floor. Darlene swept her fingers through the long backside of Cowboy’s mullet in a clumsy attempt at endearment. Arrangements for location procurement had clearly begun. Smart money was on Cowboy’s El Camino.

I went through an open doorway with a sign that specifically forbade it’s usage by non-employees. I heard Ernie’s voice.

“Right this way, Hop Sing.”

I took the chair facing the door. I learned from the old timers, and this was a lesson handed down by Wild Bill Hickok his ownself.

The Chinaman entered the room, followed by Ernie. I stayed seated, but held out my hand and introduced myself. He shook my hand with a firmer grip than I expected.

“Call me Chan”

His accent was more Houston than Hong Kong, though a slight oriental lilt was present.

“That your first name or last”?

He chuckled.

“Last, but everybody calls me that”

So, Chinaman had a name. And from the sound of it, he really was a Chinaman.

He sat down as I asked “How much?”

“Ten” he said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out ten greasy, wadded hundred dollar bills, straightened them, and put them in the middle of the worn red felt.

Ernie looked at me as he swept up the bills. I nodded. He left the room. He was gone for two minutes. Chan and I spent the time staring at each other. Nothing was said.

Ernie walked in with chips and an uncracked deck of Bicycles. He gave us each an equal amount of chips, broke the seal on the cards, pulled them out and fanned them across the felt. I pulled out a six, Chan pulled out a three. I had first deal.

Antes were thrown. “Seven stud” I declared.

********************************************

For four hours, things broke even. We pretty much played the Hoyle poker section. He seemed to have an affinity for Texas Hold ‘em, a rather silly little game of two hole cards and five community cards. Kiddie poker. Then he played it with a twist. No betting limits.

I’d played like this before, but it was strictly a sucker’s game. You could lose your whole stack in one bad beat. We knew some Texans who actually played it, but they were garbage players. We loved nothing more than to see those ridiculous ****kickers walk through the door. That no limit hold ‘em crap was just an elongated game of “Who’s Got a Bigger One?”. Texans have had issues since us Tennesseans saved their bacon from that deluded **** eating field rat, Santa Anna.

He had a slight edge, less than fifty bucks, and called his precious No Limit Hold “em. The cards hit me. Jack and nine of clubs. I threw in a token bet, he answered it.

The first three cards were a queen, a ten, and an eight. I had a straight. Thought about slow playing it, too. Nothing scary on the board. But, if I took this hand right now, I’d take the edge back. I tossed in the token bet. He raised. I called.

The next card was a two of spades. I checked, and he pushed about a third of his chips in. I read him for the high pair or even a flush draw. I called.

The final card was trash, six of diamonds. I had the best possible hand.

I checked, and he almost jumped out of his chair to push all of his chips into the middle. I quickly called, and a queer, sickly look crossed his face. He turned over a queen and a seven. The queer, sickly look turned dark when he saw my straight.

He jumped up, said something in his native tongue, and reached into his pocket. I figured he was reaching for more cash, out of habit, but I still reached down to feel the reassuring steel of the piece in my boot.

That touch turned into a full-fledged embrace when he pulled out a large pocket knife, a lock-blade pig sticker. Time seemed to shift into slow motion.

He flicked open the knife, and I was in pull mode, ready to drench the felt with Chan’s brain and blood. Then things took a weird turn.

Chan flipped the knife toward him, grasped it with both hands, and held it perpendicular to his gut, the tip just touching the fabric of his high-octane shirt.

I loosened my grip on the pistol, but kept it hovering close. I was dealing with an amateur, here, and he was still subject to panic, despite his little masquerade.

“You fool. Hara-Kiri is a jap tradition. You’re a chink.”

He smiled.

“You’re not as dumb as you look, round eyes.”

He spoke calmly, and casually folded the knife and put it away.

He never broke my gaze, nor dropped his smile as he sat down. He drummed his fingers on the table, and finally called for me to deal.

There were no more chips in front of him.

“This is a blood match. You know what it means to go further”

“Yes.”

The air in the room seemed to flatten.

"Alright. Your call."

Since he was on the firing line, he had game choice. He called for his beloved Hold ‘em. I dealt.

He lost, no drama. He was dealt a 9 10, I had K 10. A king fell first card over, and held up.

He knew the rules. This was a blood match. He had commitments to honor.

************************************************

I drove to my place. Ernie stayed with Chan while he got his affairs in order. They showed up, and Ernie led Chan up to the steps and almost bolted away. Ernie never could stomach the ugly results of a blood match.

Chan bowed slightly, and I pointed to the bathroom.

“You’ll need the facilities, and it would be better for all involved if you would change into the outfit hanging on the peg. You can have a cigarette when you come out. ”

He solemnly went in and shut the door. Ernie had frisked him thoroughly, and the room was Spartan. No window through which escape was possible, and nothing that could be used as a weapon. It was used only by those unlucky enough to lose.

He emerged in a French maid’s outfit. A little snug, but not bad. Fishnet stockings and high heels. Impractical for the matter at hand. But this was a blood match.

I handed him the wooden implement.

“Don’t forget the rafters. Then vacuum, and the dishes. Also, mowing, and don’t forget to edge.”

It wasn’t pretty. It was screamingly hideous. But my place was spotless.

I saw Chan on television a few weeks ago. He’s done well for himself.

I played with Johnny Moss. Must have been around '92 or '93; can't remember exactly where, but it might have been the Stardust in a rare (for then) NL game. His wife sat behind him the whole time. He was very old and very slow, but still played aggressively. I must have played with him for 3 hours or so and he hardly said a word to anyone; most, of course, had no idea who he was or that they had just played with one of the legends.

Played with Liz Lieu a lot back when she was A DEALER not some "casino owner" lol or whatever story she is telling at the moment. Also back when her ears were still parallel to her face, she had purple hair and no tits. It is amazing what surgery can do. She was reallly ugly. Her sister is very pretty, and naturally so.
Also played a lot with David Chiu, back when he too was A DEALER and not some "shift manager" which is his latest story. This really makes no sense, the dealers then were making 80 to 90 k a year as opposed to floors making about 24 k per year.
I don't know what it is about turning pro that makes you have to pump up your past.

doesn't anyone get it, that is a scene from rounders....

Humor, a concept lost on some people.

orly??

i would love to see what your wife looks like either now or at 50.

Played in a tourny with Chris Moneymaker in St. Louis...the only known pro there. He was hosting the tourny. I outlasted him but came up short right before the final table.

He did very well at the cash games. Cashed out for about $6000 playing 2-5 PLO with a $500 max. buy-in.

since when has Shannon Elizabeth been a pro?

Was playing a bit at the Trump Plaza and convinced a "pro" that his 66 on a flop of 556 was no goot, went all in on the river with KK, he said "I have the nuts", I said, no dear sir, I have 5555, save yourself the $102 into a $342 pot and fold. He thought for a few minutes and laid it down & then I showed the kings and he tilted in a few hands, awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!































some pro

I played with Sam Grizzle a couple of years ago. While I was waiting for the 30/60 LHE game, I took a seat in the 15/30 LHE. Sam opens in early position, folded to me on the button, I 3-bet AQs, blinds clear out and he calls. Flop comes Ten high, one of my suit. He bets, I raise, he folds, and says why waste such a big hand by raising me out of the pot? I decline to respond or show my hand and just muck, take the pot and like 5 minutes later get my seat in the 30/60 game. I was surprised to see Sam Grizzle in such a small game like 15/30, but this was before I knew that he was basically broke all the time.

Word!

I played 2-5 NL holdem with Vin Diesel at Bellagio. His first time playing he said. Some guys from his entourage also played, all quite bulky individuals but seemingly non too bright. I stacked one of his guys when he called me down with some crap like 5 high. I lost that money back to Vin in some other hand, he seemed to catch on quicker than his buddies. They played for about an hour and left.

Also, I saw Phil Laak playing 10/20 at another table.

1k tournament with Tommy Vu @ Bellagio:

Raise and multiple callers including Tommy, gets to button who announces "ten g"

Folds back to Tommy who looks pale... "Thats first time I heard that in twenny year... where I come from that mean "F*CK your entire homeland"

everyone laughs

pwned @ 10/20 at the bellagio?

just noticed this vaguely entertaining thread. a few years back (the first time the wsop was in the amazon room) i played the razz event at the wsop and my starting table featured ted forrest and robert williamson III. RW3 talked non-stop and played the razz really poorly. at one point he and ted made some semi-bitchy remarks about annie duke.

about every 5 minutes a different guy would approach ted, they'd talk quietly for a little bit and then ted would pull out a huge wad of $$ and peel off a bunch of hundreds and give them to whoever he was talking to. only once did somebody come up and give forrest any money. huck seed kept coming over to ted as well telling him about hands on his table - it sounded like forrest had put him in the tournament (this is just a guess btw).

i also lost a a key pot (for me) where for some stupid reason i called with a king doorcard (i was the bring-in). it was only later that i realised that the guy i lost the pot to was prahlad friedman - him and forrest were easily the best players at the table btw.

it would really make this thread if durrrr or stinger or somone was like i sat in my room and played with myself, now theres playing with a pro