Ms. Dostoyevsky
Posted by Al Pastor
4/24/05 Oaks Club $3-6 Hold’em
12:45-2:45 PM
In $100 Out $11 -$89
Oaks Club $2-4 Hold’em
3:15-4:15 PM
In $51 Out $121 +$70
4/26/05 Oaks Club $2-4 Hold’em
12:45-2:45 PM
In $100 Out $0 -$100
Hours Played 2005: 91.25 YTD -$659
The poker room is a pretty macho bastion, or at least most to of the customers are men. Think a combination of high school chess club or D & D game and sports bar. I would gauge just about slightly less than half of the dealers are women, but less than ten percent of the players are. Most of the women who do play are older than me, in their forties or fifties at least. Younger women who sit in on the table I play at are usually accompanied by a husband/boyfriend, who sometimes is at the table and sometimes not, but who is in the club somewhere.
I remember a screening of THE WILD BUNCH on a weeknight at the Castro. Sparse attendance and my back-of-the-house tendencies let me observe that the audience consisted of single men and a few men who had brought women, but no single women or groups of women without men or even coed groups. But, I digress.
They called this woman to the $3-6 table. I forget what name she used. She was tall, close to six feet, and slim, reminding me of suburban high school basketball player, with a girljock kind of posture and bearing that could have been due to her height more than anything else. She wore an ANTICON (Hipsters are a card room rarity, too. I find this a very appealing characteristic of the environment) t-shirt and jeans, and she had a kind of flouncey haircut that curled under at her shoulders. It seemed a little too girly on her, a little out of place, and amplified her tall jockiness in a way that I am guessing was directly opposite of its intention. What I saw of her play was unexceptional, but I didn’t stay at that table long. I was losing so I moved to $2-4 before too long. What was exceptional was that once when I looked up and she was out of the hand, she was reading NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND.
It is not uncommon for a player to attempt to read at the table, but Dostoyevsky is not what one usually see. Harlan Coben or Grisham are more standard fare. I have been wagging INFINITE JEST to everywhere I go for the past few months, but I don’t look at it at the table. But anyway, I moved along to the $2-4 game, not thinking too much about it except that it is interesting to see a Russian-masters-reading-hipster-chick in my beloved Oaks and that an influx of such types might be the only substantial improvement I can see making to the Oaks.
I went about my business, recouping my $3-6 losses at the $2-4 table. Opening my car door in the annex, across-the-street lot (where I have recently learned someone was shot shortly before I started attending the club), I happened to look into the car next to mine. A white, late model Grand Am, somewhat lived in. Hertz giveaway maps, a tooth brush and a prescription bottle on the front seat. In the back seat a suitcase, a blanket and two books: PLAYING BLACKJACK AS A BUSINESS and CRIME AND PUNISHMENT.
!
As a expat Texan, I must say that I have always hated the Pittsburgh Steelers, and the only Steeler I hate more than Lynn Swann is that Neanderthal Terry Bradshaw. It is truly an honor, though, for a Houston boy, to hear the approbation from Billy “White Shoes” Johnson. Knowing Mrs. White Shoes id out there makes the whole thing worthwhile.
!
After folding hands and paying blinds for a couple of hours the other day, Tuesday, I lift my cards to see a pair of aces. I was down from $100 to less than twenty, probably $13 dollars. The bet is raised to me, I reraise, lots of people com along so there are about 8 of us seeing the flop at 3 bets apiece. Flop falls queen, jack of clubs, 9 spades. Original raiser bets, I raise, a couple of guys fold so there are 4 of us left, about $50 in the pot after the dealer removes the rake. I put the raiser on flush draw, but there is also a straight draw there, possibly already completed with something like a king-ten. I have the ace of clubs, so I have a backdoor draw to the nut (highest) flush. Turn comes ten of clubs, making the board an open ended straight, and the completing the flush draw, giving me a redraw to the nut flush. Raiser bets, I go all in with my last three chips, player behind me raises, meaning he’s probably got the high straight, raiser reraises confirming my suspicion of his flush. The river is another ragged club, giving me the high flush. Raiser bets, other guy bets. I show my ace for the main pot, and the raiser turns over the 8 and 9 of clubs for the straight fucking flush.
I just got up and came home.
4/24/05 Oaks Club $3-6 Hold’em12:45-2:45 PM
In $100 Out $11 -$89
Oaks Club $2-4 Hold’em
3:15-4:15 PM
In $51 Out $121 +$70
4/26/05 Oaks Club $2-4 Hold’em
12:45-2:45 PM
In $100 Out $0 -$100
Hours Played 2005: 91.25 YTD -$659
The poker room is a pretty macho bastion, or at least most to of the customers are men. Think a combination of high school chess club or D & D game and sports bar. I would gauge just about slightly less than half of the dealers are women, but less than ten percent of the players are. Most of the women who do play are older than me, in their forties or fifties at least. Younger women who sit in on the table I play at are usually accompanied by a husband/boyfriend, who sometimes is at the table and sometimes not, but who is in the club somewhere.
I remember a screening of THE WILD BUNCH on a weeknight at the Castro. Sparse attendance and my back-of-the-house tendencies let me observe that the audience consisted of single men and a few men who had brought women, but no single women or groups of women without men or even coed groups. But, I digress.
They called this woman to the $3-6 table. I forget what name she used. She was tall, close to six feet, and slim, reminding me of suburban high school basketball player, with a girljock kind of posture and bearing that could have been due to her height more than anything else. She wore an ANTICON (Hipsters are a card room rarity, too. I find this a very appealing characteristic of the environment) t-shirt and jeans, and she had a kind of flouncey haircut that curled under at her shoulders. It seemed a little too girly on her, a little out of place, and amplified her tall jockiness in a way that I am guessing was directly opposite of its intention. What I saw of her play was unexceptional, but I didn’t stay at that table long. I was losing so I moved to $2-4 before too long. What was exceptional was that once when I looked up and she was out of the hand, she was reading NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND.
It is not uncommon for a player to attempt to read at the table, but Dostoyevsky is not what one usually see. Harlan Coben or Grisham are more standard fare. I have been wagging INFINITE JEST to everywhere I go for the past few months, but I don’t look at it at the table. But anyway, I moved along to the $2-4 game, not thinking too much about it except that it is interesting to see a Russian-masters-reading-hipster-chick in my beloved Oaks and that an influx of such types might be the only substantial improvement I can see making to the Oaks.
I went about my business, recouping my $3-6 losses at the $2-4 table. Opening my car door in the annex, across-the-street lot (where I have recently learned someone was shot shortly before I started attending the club), I happened to look into the car next to mine. A white, late model Grand Am, somewhat lived in. Hertz giveaway maps, a tooth brush and a prescription bottle on the front seat. In the back seat a suitcase, a blanket and two books: PLAYING BLACKJACK AS A BUSINESS and CRIME AND PUNISHMENT.
!
As a expat Texan, I must say that I have always hated the Pittsburgh Steelers, and the only Steeler I hate more than Lynn Swann is that Neanderthal Terry Bradshaw. It is truly an honor, though, for a Houston boy, to hear the approbation from Billy “White Shoes” Johnson. Knowing Mrs. White Shoes id out there makes the whole thing worthwhile.
!
After folding hands and paying blinds for a couple of hours the other day, Tuesday, I lift my cards to see a pair of aces. I was down from $100 to less than twenty, probably $13 dollars. The bet is raised to me, I reraise, lots of people com along so there are about 8 of us seeing the flop at 3 bets apiece. Flop falls queen, jack of clubs, 9 spades. Original raiser bets, I raise, a couple of guys fold so there are 4 of us left, about $50 in the pot after the dealer removes the rake. I put the raiser on flush draw, but there is also a straight draw there, possibly already completed with something like a king-ten. I have the ace of clubs, so I have a backdoor draw to the nut (highest) flush. Turn comes ten of clubs, making the board an open ended straight, and the completing the flush draw, giving me a redraw to the nut flush. Raiser bets, I go all in with my last three chips, player behind me raises, meaning he’s probably got the high straight, raiser reraises confirming my suspicion of his flush. The river is another ragged club, giving me the high flush. Raiser bets, other guy bets. I show my ace for the main pot, and the raiser turns over the 8 and 9 of clubs for the straight fucking flush.
I just got up and came home.
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