Are Four 'A's Good?

There is nothing in the world so satisfying as a beautifully executed trap. As a woman, I still run into tables (not just individuals) that are certain that I couldn't possibly have idea what I'm holding. At the end of the day, I suppose it is to our advantage to let everyone think that brushing our hair uses up most of the brain power we possess. I don't mean to perpetuate the stereotype, but keeping my mouth shut and acting confused has paid off in a number of situations. About 8 months ago I found myself seated next to some big dogs at an important satellite table. I was dealt KQh in late position on the third hand, tripled the pot amount, got 4 callers, and flopped the straight flush to the King. Will wonders never cease? Trying not to pee my pants, I casually studied the faces around me. I noticed someone familiar, staring back at me, and realized it belonged to an old high school friend's little brother. I had never played against this fellow, but I'd been hearing a lot about him for the past few years; he was making quite a name for himself accross the country. He gave me a goofy grin that said he'd recognized me all along, and gushed "I used to have the hugest crush on you." My heart deflated. He was still in the pot. The Ac and Kd sealed the deal, as I "reluctantly" called every enormous raise, with only one player folding. First to act gave the ultimatum, and I responded with that "what the hell" shrug and moved all in; we found 2 more callers without a moment's hesitation. I will spare you the details, but it did not turn into a very happy reunion.

Saturdays are for Poker

All right...it's Saturday...2:06 pm....I am supposed to be at work until 8pm, but it just ain't gonna happen...called in the troops, and I'm off to the Press Box for a little NTN poker....meet you there.

Hold'em VS a Happy Home

If you haven't learned this gem yet, please pay close attention. Playing poker with your significant other can be a dangerous thing. All the therapy in the world cannot undo the damage. My husband and I often play in the same Sunday game, but I have never faced him at a final table, let alone head to head. This past weekend, it all came crashing down. Before leaving for the tournament, we had a few choice words about calling the "all-in" rather than going over the top, pissing off the other players, and allowing a short stack back in the game. Silly me, I thought we were clear on the subject. Cut to 8 hours later, 4 players remaining. I think this would be an excellent time to defer to aliases. Let's call my fella "Lee." I was in seat one, "Lee" in seat 2, "Jake" in seat 3, and "T-Bone" in seat 4, with pay-outs for only the top two finishers. I was the chip leader, with Jake a close second; Lee and T-Bone were distant 3rd and 4th, with enough chips to play only a hand or two. Unfortuneately, Jake voiced the obvious game plan, stating that he would take T-Bone out, as I worked on Lee. This didn't seem to sit well, but poker is poker. Then the unthinkable happened; I doubled Lee up almost instantly, with Jake following suit shortly after. Lee is a bit of a kamikaze (I have heard him say "I don't fold" on more than one occassion), but he hit some nice hands. I ended up taking T-Bone out shortly after; then came the mayhem. Lee had torpedoed his way into 2nd, and Jake had assumed the role of short stack. Jake's few chips should have been a no-brainer. Between Lee and I, he should have been out of the game in no time. It seemed however, that no matter what I bet, Lee would raise (or at least call) because he didn't want to be left out of any kind of a pot. This of course, gave Jake serious pot-odds that he couldn't help but call, and he kept taking hands that he would never ordinarily play. Shaking my head in disbelief, I tried to remain calm as my man fed me to the wolves. No amount of shin kicking mattered...dirty looks went unheeded. The game went on like this for some time. I was breathing fire. My pocket queens were trampled by a pair of 2s; my suited slick lost to 67 offsuit, and on it went. I had finally lost it with my hubby. Embittered, and now shortstacked, a Confucious-like voice repeated the mantra "In order to live, one must be prepared to die" inside my head. I added the phrase "and take one's husband with them," and it was game on. Eventually, a few hands came my way, and I was able to eliminate Jake from the game, simultaneously recouping some chips from my dear hubby. Finally back in the drivers' seat, I decided that I was not in the mood for head to head competition at the moment, and went all in on the first hand, with a K9 of diamonds. Lee called with an K8 of spades. I couldn't believe my luck! The flop came K82, and I wished I had never met him. A rag on 4th convinced me that I could breathe fire, and turn him to stone with just one glance. And my 9 on the river reminded me how very much I love him.

Pump up the Jam

Music is a huge part of my life. It is also an important part of any social gathering, including home games. You're never going to please everyone, so you might as well play your favorites....they make you listen to Boney M. At my place, changing cds is no small feat...if a disc is actually in the correct case, it's most likely scratched, and try as you might, you can't ignore the Minipops version of Brown Girl in the Ring skipping. I have recently discovered the perfect solution...it's an online radio station called Pandora. All you have to do is enter a few artists you like, and it'll keep the great tunes coming. I swear...it's like being the hot chick at the bar in the tube top who always hears her favorite songs (for some reason.) If you don't like a song, give it the thumbs down and skip it...it will omit songs with similar characteristics. If only life were like that...I didn't particularly care for the 2-7 off-suit you dealt me last hand...If you could just go ahead and deal me a nice high pocket pair, that'd be great...that suited A-K you tossed me was perfect...keep up the good work! We'd like to know your favorite poker tunes...we're making a mixed tape. A few bands to watch for: Waste of Aces (stemming from a lethal combination of copious amounts of liquor, a '4-track, ukelele, and a 3o foot yacht',) Thee Pirates, and Raised By Wolves (featuring frontman and gaming guru Billy Bones) Up the Ante, JJ.

Bones Knows

A shout out to Billy Bones of Sparrow Guitars. We look forward to the Vancouver tournament this March. Billy is the West Coast King of Poker, Pinball, Ratbikes, and Guitars. You can visit Billy at www.sparrowguitars.com or find Billy and Krista's band at www.myspace.com/raisedbywolves

Oh, Danny Boy

Daniel Negreanu is our favorite. He is what the game is all about. His approach to poker, and, it seems, life in general, is nothing short of astonishing. Have you seen this guy with his mother? It's unbelieveable! If there is a kinder soul on the face of the planet, we sure haven't met him! Good luck at the WHUC!

Chip and a Chair

The next All In By 8 Ladies' Texas Hold'em Tournament begins at the traditional 8pm on Saturday February 10th. Costumes are optional. We will be hosting a large freeze-out tournament next month, open to the public...don't forget to vote for your favorite buy-in amount. Postage stamps, sticky pennies, and unruly pets will no longer be accepted. Please remember...we like to smoke. if you are asthmatic, bring your inhaler. Any unattended children will be given unlimited espresso and and a free puppy.

Girls, Girls, Girls

The ever-vigilant (and vengeful) All In by 8 Team found this delightful item. It's a good thing it actually reads "for girls," or we might have simply been content mocking it amongst ourselves. I haven't belonged to an all-girl club of any kind (save a creepy week of Brownies when I was about 9.) We love poker. Anytime, anywhere. And every once in a while, we like to have a tourney amongst ourselves. Back to regular play, we'll beat you with pink cards if we have to . Up the Ante, JJ.

We Mean it Fellas...

Seriously, guys....it's Ladies' Night. We don't care if you wear a dress, drink Tia Maria, or bake like Martha Stewart. You cannot goad or cajole us into letting you play. Go to the strip club or something. Don't even think about taking my bike.

Marty and Porkchop

My dear dogs, Marty and Porkchop are a bit of a distraction during home games. Besides the expected crotch sniffing and having to go outside to pee every 7 minutes, I have been advised that they are the foulest smelling dogs on the face of the planet. An especially gassy Pitbull-Great Dane cross, Marty is at least 70 pounds. A small child would not suffice for supper. They continually hound my guests for love, attention, and snacks. They shed on their clothes, steal their shoes, and swoop in for unwanted kisses at every possible turn. I've also never caught anyone cheating.
Up the Ante, JJ.

We Three Kings

What simply has to be my favorite poker story of all time originates from last years' Station Classic. My father was visiting from overseas, and I'd managed to pique his interest in a high stakes game, as he was having a bad run with blackjack and craps. We were seated at opposite ends of the same table. Now, my father is not a cheater...collusion would never cross his mind. But there are a lot of things that do not cross my father's mind. Don't get me wrong...the man has a Degree for every day of the week, but he tends to be somewhat obtuse, and even self-involved at times. Now, being so close to the US border, we get alot of Southerners attending our tournaments, and there happened to be the most stereotypical mark sitting next to my father...ten gallon hat, chaw in cheek, and hundreds falling out his back pocket. It was from a Lynch film. Easy pickings, pigeon, and patsy rolled into one. After many a heinous hand, I'm sitting on pocket Queens, and start building the pot. A few hopefuls stay in to see the flop, including old "Lucky." The flop comes 3-Q-K (rainbow) and I'm doing all I can to keep from peeing my pants. Then started the feud...the old codger wouldn't raise, but called everything. Please keep in mind that I've seen this guy play 2-7 suited more aggressive than one would a pair of aces...I knew he wasn't simply inviting action...all I can assume is that he's tilting after being knocked out of the tourney, and has the money to play any damned hand he feels like. And then, for some ungodly reason, I see him lean over and show my father his hand at 4th street. How the dealer missed it, I'll never know, but come 5th, my father is humming away...a Christmas Carol, of all things...and then it hit me..."We Three Kings" were going to kick those Ladies' asses; classic Brunson/Reese. I backed out of the hand as gracefully as I could, and thankfully, he showed 'em, in all their glory. No one at the table, including old "Hickory," noticed my father's tune...including my dad. He swears to this day that I'm making it all up. I think my dad finally gave up on poker. He had a tell or two.

More Bad Beets

A new Bad Beat Rule was finally instituted at the local Casino Poker Room this year. It happens. A tip of the hat to Scotty Nguyen. I would also like to take this opportunity to say a heartfelt thank you to the altruistic soul who hit my car 3 times (yes, I did say 3) in the casino parking lot on the weekend. You should be much more careful what you eat for supper...bad beets bite back.

Bad Beats

Bad Beats are a fact of life. We can whimper, whine, and wail all we like, but it's not going to change a thing. I lost to quad 5s last week in a large tournament, and I'm still having nightmares. Conversely, I went all in (shortstacked) on pocket 10s the other night, and abruptly came face to face with pocket Kings. They were held by a dear friend, and very good card player. With a nerve-racking flop of 9-J-K, an 8 came up on 4th. I advised the dealer to look at the river first, and get a head start if it was a Queen. Will wonders never cease, that all important Q appeared on 5th for the straight. The guilt sure can stick with you. A word of advice...Toronto cops will always stick together when it comes to a bad beat (absolutely no pun intended.)

All In Logos

We'd sure like some feedback on these logos...we'd love to see yours as well (designs, that is.)
We look forward to hearing from you. Up the ante, JJ.

Trash Talk & Hors D'oeuvres

Ladies' Poker Night is a funny thing; it's a little more refined than the usual game, but the trash talk still manages to sneak in at a few crucial moments. The canapes and cocktails were delectable, with Peach being the drink of choice...peach schnapps, peach cider, peach coolers...a little disconcerting for even the girliest of girls. Even though almost every one of us is at some crucial stage of our stop-smoking program, it seemed we were playing in a burning building. And then, there's the pot. I personally cannot smoke pot and play poker. It amazes me the savvy with which some people can...most of my friends are seasoned professionals. Shuffling alone would prove much too daunting a task.

The 3rd game ended the evening around 5am. I won the first 2 games, but was out, and dealing to the last 2 standing by 4am. It was one of those "all-in-gone-wrong" episodes, not really a victory, but rather a confusing combination of several too many beverages and an uncovered bet, with both players grabbing for the chips at the end of the hand. A split pot was not entirely a fair solution, but our newest player didn't seem to mind an equal number of chips, as chip value hasn't proven a particularly relevant factor in her world to this point. She is learning fast, however, and playing some really nice hands. I sure hope she doesn't hold a grudge.

I still love to play with the guys, but Ladies' Night is a refreshing change. The biggest differences, to my untrained eye, would have to be as follows:

mini eggrolls and shrimp cocktail VS stale potato chip remnants
home-made cookies VS home-made bongs
Chianti VS Canadian in a can
Cat Stevens and the Cars VS Slayer and Sabbath
passive aggressive pandering VS pugnacity and porn

My favorite line from Ladies' Night... "I got three aces...suited."

And so it Begins

I work every day from 11am 'til 8pm...supposedly. I have recently discovered that if you show up 6 minutes late, and leave 9 minutes early, you can shave 15 minutes off your workday with few people being the wiser...if, that is, you are the boss. Don't get me wrong...I have an inestimable work ethic...I just really love to play poker.

I host a weekly game, and play in a few others. It seems that poker always starts at 8. How it happens is beyond me, but invariably, poker games begin at 8pm. My new trick is to leave at 7:51pm, which allows for me to be seated at any poker table in town by 7:59, just in time for that all important first hand. It also allows me to be all-in by 8:00.

It is 7:26 now, so I guess I'd better get crackin'...

All In By Eight is the new moniker for our ladies' poker tournament, held every Saturday night, at, you guessed it, 8 o'clock....and what a great handle it is. Our new clothing line will be out within the month...photos will be posted soon! We are still hoping that the infamous Red Hot Poker Tour will make its' way to the Prairie provinces, 'cause we sure like their style. Poker isn't always about deep pockets...we love the lack of buy-ins and the abundance of smarts (not to mention the aggressive, antagonistic, cut-throat nature of their game!) Until they arrive, however, we will have to be content with competing in our own little domain.

It is so much easier to find a game these days, thanks to the new-found popularity of Texas Hold'em. I have always loved poker...I was country, when country wasn't cool. Please don't allow my narrative to mislead you...I did not say I was always a good poker player. In fact, sometimes I think I should take up knitting. But hot damn...do I love to play poker.

I would love to ramble at great length about this subject, but it's 7:50, and as you all well know, I do like to be all-in by 8.