love wins

This post is a hodgepodge.  Not a sexy word but if you could see what I was wearing right now... 

And so keeping with the mood, hodgepodge it is.  There’s exhilarating gambling discussion within. I know my audience. I know what you people want. Sometimes I sell out talking about big real world stuff but this post has it all.

Case in point, I arrived in front of an empty parking space about a second after another car arrived on its opposite side.  Was she headed down the lane to take the spot or was she headed down the lane to leave? I gave two beats and seeing no turn signal, I took the spot.  After I parked the woman didn’t move her car. Obvious to me now she wanted the spot I got out and this is what went down:

Lady who doesn’t know what a blinker is: “I was going to park there.”

Person who is able to properly analyze a situation and act accordingly: “So why wasn’t your blinker on?”

LWDKWABI: “I didn’t know you were a racist.”

There’s so much wrong with this interaction, I can’t. 

I won’t.


I felt something in my eye for a couple of days and I was due for a check-up anyway so I went to my optometrist. I had been up 31 hours by the time my appointment rolled around and usually I wouldn’t go but there’s this thing in my eye and my eye is sort of important so I went.  Number one; my peripheral vision test was so bad the tech had to tell me the test had started because I wasn’t reacting to anything.  I wasn’t seeing anything flash in my side view. Then she gave it to me again with the same result.  The doc told me some people have off days and my eyes looked otherwise healthy but that my boxing career was over.  That news was hard to take.

Number two; he couldn’t see anything in my eye but did notice some inflammation so this man wanted to flip my eyelid over like little kids sometimes do and if he saw something he said he could swab it with a cotton stick. What?  No. Is he crazy? No. Not happening.  He sent me home with eye drops and told me if nothing changed I had to come back in two days. 

Nothing changed. 

I took drugs, put on my big girl pants, marched into his office and pleaded with him to treat me with kid gloves.  I let this professional eyelid flipper do his thing and you know what was in my eye?  Three eyelashes so far up they couldn’t escape on their own and this man swabbed them. My day was done after that, I needed a nap.

Alright gamblers, here’s what you’ve been waiting for.  Pass out the dessert and drum roll please…

Over the last year “hustler twitter” has really grown.  And with that a handful of users regularly post very specific ways to beat certain games.  I’ve read the same exact sentiment from three of these people and it’s in the vein of them just wanting to “help” people.  They like helping people.  Etcetera.

My condensed view is this: It’s true. These posters are helping a slew of new people take advantage of things they would not normally be privy to.  If you were already established in the scene you can feel the impact.  More people who were probably in the casino environment already either as other types of advantage players, poker players or casual gamblers now know what to look for and how to approach situations because of the considerable uptick of posted detailed instruction. And with this, livelihoods are being wrecked.  People who had already been hustling for a living are having their income destroyed.  In my view the help being given to a new population is less meaningful than the hurt that’s happening to established hustlers and that’s a net negative.

But, you all do you.  I’m not here to argue about it.  If you disagree just chalk it up to me being a racist.

yo dos


When I was 18 years old I was playing guitar with bands in Vegas bars. When I hit 21, I graduated to casino lounges.  High-end joints like Excal, Stardust and the old Oasis in Mesquite. 

A life to envy.

We also had a weekend gig at Gordon Biersch.  I’d get off work dealing at the Monte Carlo at 7:30pm (yes when I was 21 I was a dealer, obviously I just said that) and I’d rush over to GB for an 8 pm start: 3 sets, done at 12. I had a Mesa Boogie tube amp that was super heavy and no joke, every night after we played I would be lugging this thing to my car while drunk guys hit me up and not once did any of them offer to help.

Which leads me to my next story.

While working at MC I was sexually harassed constantly.  The pencil (scheduler) would tell me I looked good in different demeaning ways every day. I mean that doesn’t sound awful, right?  I’m a wimp?  But every day, every single day dealing with his comments was really frustrating. 

The real harassment came from the top though.  The Ensign family were heavily involved in MGM at one point (family of disgraced cheating husband Senator John Ensign).  John’s younger bro David Ensign ran The Hacienda Casino in Boulder City where I broke in as a dealer a few months before I got the job at MC.  David, who told me he watched me deal from a camera in his office, would come into the pit at MC, where he didn’t even work, get really close to me and tell me I was hot, etc.  Like wtf man, c’mon really?  So one day I go to HR with a complaint about David.  The woman in charge told me, “That’s not sexual harassment.” 

Cool.  #MeToo

My stint at MC didn’t last long after that.

Side note: I was put on the Big 6 a couple days a week, which doesn’t constitute as sexual harassment but it sucked nonetheless.  The pencil claimed the drop was bigger when I was on it so there I stood, spinning that huge wheel, with dread in my soul, wishing I hadn’t dropped out of college, was born rich, or could suck it up, take off my big girl pants and be a dancer.  I would have happily dug ditches those days instead 100%, no question.

You guys, where am I going with all this?


Man, I hate long posts.

I guess I can wrap this baby up by saying in my illustrious AP career I haven’t been harassed, sexually or otherwise, by other APs simply for being female (okay maybe one time by APs, poker players and floor people def a different story).  Yes, some of my opportunities have been different from my male counterparts, like not being able to fire big money (though I’ve had my moments) but it’s much easier for me to feign innocence.  Who actually thinks the young girl at 3rd betting ten bucks, can’t add up her hand and doesn’t know basic strategy is running the table?  Not a lot of people.

K, post too long.  Here’s a song. Es bueno.

successful scouting

I was in the casino looking for an edge when I found 4 donut holes for a dollar.  They used to be 3 for a dollar. Was the cashier mistaken?  Should I tell her?  Or should I just hand over my dollar, take the 4 donut holes and bolt?

I took them, walked away briskly but didn’t exactly run, and went about my journey looking for a monetary edge. 

Later that night, I was waiting at a slot machine for a lucky seat at a blackjack table.  There was an elderly man sitting in the seat I wanted.  He had a huge stack of red in front of him and was betting five dollars a hand.  It was going to take forever to bust this guy.  Finally, four hours into the dealer's shift, the senior got up and left.  I raced over to the table and quickly sat down.  I sat down in a puddle of pee.

What.  The.  Fuck.

There were no other chairs in sight and with the game on and my BP at the table, I had to start reading the hole card immediately.  After a few minutes, a teammate brought me a new chair. For four hours I had to sit in pee soaked jeans.

I think we won a lot that night, I honestly don’t remember anything but the donut holes and the pee.  It was too traumatic.


wild west

It was approaching midnight in Tahoe. It was the second night we were without an opportunity to play. All of us were exhausted. This weekend's crew consisted of Hua, myself and my friend Razor who I brought along because she was out of work and needed to make money. I told her she could have 10%  of my my half to hang out with me. Having a friend around never hurts for cover and she could run errands, like securing lucky seats. 

Hua was asleep in the bedroom of our two room suite. There was a game 4 hours away starting at 5am. A good game, perfect info in a casino that took heavy action. I went in to wake Hua up and tell him to get a move on. We were going to hit the road.

"No, I'm tired."

"Come on Hua!"

"Fine, but you're driving," Hua roared as he pulled himself out of bed.

"Are you sure you trust this guy?" Razor, who had only met Hua yesterday, asked.

"Yea, he's just grumpy. Let's go!"

I drove us the 4.5 hours to a casino in the literal middle of nowhere. We had about twenty minutes till game time. We parked, and separately hurried in to the casino to try and predict the lucky table that our lucky dealer would end up on. 

5am rolled around and Joseph, that morning's target, came right to me. It was glorious. Immediately Hua took his place at first base. I could see every card, 100% perfection. 

Three hours later we were stuck 30k. Almost our entire trip bankroll. I called the game, we were done. 

Now what?

Hua volunteered to drive 4 hours south to another team member's house to get us more money.

Fast forward to 5am the next morning. Same situation. Razor and I at third base and Hua at first. The only difference this morning was that we couldn't lose a hand. Less than half way through the session we were up 90k. Hua kept giving me the leave signal. I didn't want to leave, I wanted to win 90k more! He was adamant though. Fine. Session over. 

Hua's opinion was that it was dangerous for us to have a 6-figure win and we were safest to quit at plus 90k. 

We kept the chips to cash out at a later date and hit the road, driving into the sunset. Up 60k for our 4 day trip wasn't bad and Razor was happy to make some money. 


don't you think

My first AP move was sitting outside of the grocery store on a mechanical merry-go-round and waiting for other kids to put their quarters in, which would make every horse on the merry-go-round move, not just theirs.  I clearly remember one set of parents, on to what I was doing, pull their child away and say something about how I was taking advantage of the situation.

Whatever they said made me feel bad.  I was 8 years old and I think it was shame.  Shame for doing something that someone else thought was wrong.  I never pulled that move again.

At around the same age, inside the Safeway that had the merry-go-round outside, I was shopping with my Mother and there was a change box above the candy bin where if you put in a nickel in you were allowed to take a sample.  My Mother told me to just take a piece of candy and not worry about it, so I did.  Soon after, tired of shopping, I went outside to wait for her in the car with my Dad.  The store manager followed me out, approached my Father and told him that I took a piece of candy without paying my nickel.  My Dad yelled at me, saying something about being disappointed.  For whatever reason, I couldn’t get the words out to tell him that Mom said it was ok.  I just sat in the back seat, scolded.  My Dad said he wouldn’t tell my Mother because she’d be too upset.