Winehouse Takes a Bad Beat, Taming the Cock (With Photos!), WPO Off to a Great Start!

I was on the fence about doing a blog post.  I really should be getting ready for work and heading to Tunica early so I can be social and say Hi to everyone at the WPO.  I haven't been down there since it started Thursday, which is unusual for me.  However, while checking my email one last time I ran across this particularly delightful headline on MSNBC.

Best. Attempt. Evar.

Suicide attempt? Really? Wouldn't this, by definition, be a suicide success?  If in fact Amy Winehouse's death was even in the ballpark of suicide, I'd say she did a bang up job. Attempt, my ass! I like the morbid humor of the song "Rehab" now. I wonder how long it'll be before scandalous photos of her death come out.  She isn't high security enough for extensive measures to be taken to avoid it.. like with Michael Jackson or Liz Taylor.  So you know someone was snapping iPhone pics while they cataloged the scene of the non-crime.

The WPO is off to a huge start. I'm surprised.  I mean, it's always pulled big crowds.. the second largest annual event in Tunica, eclipsed only by the WSOPCE at Harrah's in Jan. But I really didn't expect fields of 300 plus.  The economy hasn't been very supportive of poker, and we're an especially poverty ridden region to begin with.

I work grave the next five days, and I'm staying on property at Goldstrike during my entire work week.  Which means I'll more than likely live in the Oak Hall Ballroom with the poker players.  Which suits me just fine.  I love these events.  It was the first event I ever went to in Atlantic City that hooked me on poker and working in this industry.  The familiarity among acquainted players, the 100,000 chips clanking in unison, the mass exodus during dinner break.  I love the electricity in the air, the exhaustion of both the staff and the players around 2 am, the hangovers at noon the following day. I know those of you who play for a living, or tour with the circuit will say "It gets old after awhile.." but really, this has been my life for years now. Five plus, I suppose. Longer, casually. You'd think the luster would have worn off by now.

Goldstrike needed this surge of business, and the spillover will make the cash action at Horseshoe better than ever. I'm looking forward to getting to work tonight and seeing everyone I've been out of touch with since the last event.

I've been spending a lot of time out at the farm lately, hanging out with mom.  She enjoys going to Estate Sales, and I'm voyeuristic by nature, so I sometimes go with her.  This house we went into this weekend had a massive sunken living room.  I submit to you, exhibit A:

You see inventive design, I see party pit.

The picture doesn't really do it justice, but the sunken span is about 20 feet wide.. and it's a solid four foot deep.  Why anyone would do this is beyond me, but it brings to mind the question.. what would YOU do with this space?  The lovely elderly lady (Now committed to some old folk's home in Texas), made it a sitting area. Perhaps I still have the mentality of a 22 year old, but I immediately see this space filled with balls from Chuck E. Cheese.  Do you have any idea the parties we could throw? Seriously.

Today while at Mom's, I went out to the chicken coop.. one of my favorite places on the planet, and liberated a few of her caged chickens.  I'm the chicken enthusiast in the family, and she's naturally cautious about introducing roosters to hang out with one another.  I've spent hours, hundreds and hundreds of hours, hanging out with chickens.. so there is very little about their brain I can't tap into.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, that is a tattoo of a tribal chicken on my arm. I told you I'm a dedicated enthusiast.
Please ignore the Catholic School Girl throwback getup. That's another story.

Chickens are the greatest pet a person can have.  They make you breakfast every single day, and if one has the audacity to go rogue, you can eat it. They're genuinely happy to see you, they have imaginative personalities and they can be beautiful. I've had chickens that were so delighted to see me, they'd hop into my lap and flop over to have their bellies petted. Really, until you've owned a few dozen, don't judge me. I have a 12 inch tattoo of a tribal chicken on my right arm for a reason.

Today's Killer turned Kitten. My new BFF.

When dealing with an aggressive rooster, in today's case a Bantam Minorca, the fastest way to break their Napoleon Complex is to pick them up and carry them everywhere with you for awhile.  This particular little bird screamed bloody murder when I accosted him, and by the end of my time out there, he was laying on his back cooing like a newborn.  He's my new BFF.

Moving back to poker...

The world series is over.  Sam Barnhart got 17th.  This is all old news by now, but I'm still really happy for him. As I said in either my previous post or my column (I get them mixed up), this is just the beginning of the Mississippi poker season and I'm looking forward to it.  I haven't been to the Beau Rivage since January and I am long overdue for some dolphin watching and bad beats.

I'm going to actually go make some sense of the bird's nest that is my hair right now and make my way down south.  I hope to see several of you at the WPO, especially as we draw closer to the main event the first week in August.