Mean Gene
Mean Gene
Pittsburgh's most decorated poker blogger, which I admit is like being the best shortstop in Greenland

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My Articles

Presto, the Arlo, & the Hammer
An Online Code of Conduct
The Ethics of Ratholing
"The Professor, the Banker..."
"Ace on the River"

My Columns

Lose the Shades
If You Can't Say Something Nice
Whither the Kicker
The Lady is a Champ?
Covering the WSOP (or not)
Statistics, Luck, and Poker
Poker and New Orleans
Managing a Bankroll
How To Tell A Bad Beat Story
Telling Lies
The Power of Poker Tracker
Advanced Card-Handling

My Greatest Hits

5 Things To Do Before I Die
Cafeteria Nostalgia
Mean Gene's Dubious Dating Tips
Poker and Business?
There's No Such Thing As Luck?
Isabelle, Je t'adore
No Shirt No Shoes No Service
Well, The Food Was Good
Good Morning, Mr. Matusow!
The Weekend of our Discontent, I
The Weekend of our Discontent, II
Books That Left Their Mark
Ode to a Fish Sandwich
Bill Simmons Ain't the Poker Guy
The Sports Guy Still Ain't the Poker Guy
Again, The Media Tackles Poker
Five Years After 9/11
Hitting Pretty Girls in the Face
Sixth-Graders Suck

Fellow Poker Bloggers

Guinness and Poker
Cards Speak
Tao of Poker
Up for Poker
Boy Genius
Chris Halverson
Poker Grub
The Fat Guy
Todd Commish
Poker Works
Bill Rini
Bad Blood
Love and Casino War
Double As
Lion Tales
Paul Phillips
Daniel Negreanu
Poker Nerd
Poker Nation
Poker in Arrears
Human Head
Sound of a Suckout
Chicks With Chips
TP's Table Talk
Royal Poker
This is Not A Poker Blog
Chick and a Chair
Go Be Rude
Poker Cheapskate
Poker & Other Stuff
Seven Two
Musical Poker
WPBT Online
Isabelle Mercier
Cardschat Blog
Amy Calistri
BJ Nemeth
Annie's Blog

Poker Sites

Cardschat Poker Forum
Barstool Sports
Card Player
Internet Texas Hold-Em
Poker Pages


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    Monday, June 04, 2007

    The Glamor, The Glitz

    I got home from the Rio around 2:30 in the morning, my ass dragging a bit. But not too bad, I've stocked up on sleep the last few days and I felt pretty good.

    Until I walked through the front door.

    It was hot.

    Not warm. Hot.

    The air conditioning in our condo crapped out. Yes, I tried fiddling with the buttons on the thermostat. I fiddled and diddled and fashizzled and nothing happened. It was 84 degrees in my bedroom at 3AM. It's 90 in the living room right now. What am I gonna do--open a window? Sure. I walked out on our balcony and it's like a kiln.

    Allegedly someone is coming to work on it, but they've been here twice to fix our spotty Internet service and that hasn't panned out yet. I've been able to piggyback on some fleeting signal bouncing around the hills but you can't depend on it.

    Of course I knew that coming out here wouldn't be all showgirls and Sinatra, but having no AC last night was a body blow. Dan's trying to grab a few extra winks at the moment, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'm just drinking lots of cold liquids (non-alcoholic, unfortunately) and hope that this gets fixed before I get home tonight/tomorrow.

    Here's a quick pick of my work station at the Rio. It's a lot more comfortable (and practical) than it looks:

    I got up and walked around a bit to see what the hell was actually going on in the tournament I'm covering and I saw Shannon Elizabeth (who'd just been eliminated) talking to Michael Craig. He just had his first WSOP cash and I wanted to congratulate him and, besides, I'm a fan (even if he's the competition and I've sworn to crush him like a grape).

    He was talking to Shannon and they were going to walk out of the tournament room together, and I thought it would be extremely bad form to butt in at that precise moment. But a few starstruck guys stopped her on the way to get their pictures taken so I tapped him on the shoulder, introduced myself and offered a quick "well done". I might've been the only person in the room who, seeing Shannon Elizabeth and Michael Craig standing side-by-side thought, "Hey, I should go talk to him." No offense meant.

    And yes, Shannon Elizabeth is quite pretty.

    At one point during the night a guy playing in the Omaha Hi-Lo/Stud-8 tournament (I get a headache just thinking of it) had three young ladies in slinky dresses stop by and chat with him. He got them chairs and had them sit near his table--and right behind me. I'm not sure what his relationship to them was (one thanked him for getting them their room) but the four of them took the time to chat at very high volume about their favorite TV show--"Extreme Makeover". One girl said that Ty Pennington had come into a place in Venice Beach where she used to bartend, and that he's only about five-ten.

    After he went back to the table the talk continued to center around Ty:

    "I thought he was gay."
    "Isn't he gay?"
    "I heard he was."
    "I thought he was."

    Etc, etc, etc. They sat directly behind me and I used my monk-like powers of concentration to focus on my tasks. The player came over later and chatted with them again, and while I didn't hear what he said to prompt this one of the girls said, "I don't think that's going to be in the pun intended!" This, they all seemed to agree, was one of the Funniest Things Ever Said. I was sad to see them go.

    I have to be at the Rio by two, so I'll go throw a bucket of ice water on Michalski to rouse him from what must be an uneasy sleep and start to get ready. It's 91, now, and I went to the window to look outside and the floor is almost too hot to stand on in bare feet. Vegas, baby. get this widget Please visit Pokernews site for more poker news, poker strategy articles or poker rules.

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