What the fuck is "L.A. Chic" to be exact? That's the dress code for the Full Tilt party that will beheld at a club in the Wynn Casino called La Bete on Tuesday night. See, this is the major reason I choose not to live in La-La land. To me, L.A. Chic means... dress like hipsters. I don't do that. I loathe all things hipster. I'm afraid if I show up in a Hawaiian shirt, that I'll get turned away and miss my opportunity to get rocked on free booze. Alas, I throw together something at the last minute.Yeah the parties are cropping up. On Friday it was Nolan's book signing. Tonight it's the Full Tilt bash. I also got an invite to another party. I bumped into two hot chicks. Once they saw my press credentials for "Fox Sports" they wanted to invite me to their party, which is an opening of some film about poker. It was being held at the Palms a few hours before the Full Tilt party. Free booze. Red carpet. More hipsters and leggy blondes with implants the size of globes. Since I have to work, I can't do both parties. But I will not pass up on the Full Tilt bash. I wonder if Hank is coming into town for that?
I also got an invite to Doyle Brunson's party on Friday. I heard that there's a celebrity that I adore who will be there. I won't say who she is, but I will do my best to get a picture with her. I wonder if I could get Texas Dolly to call Al Cant Hang for a Dial-a-Shot?
Moving on...
I'm covering two tournaments today... until I leave around 8:30pm local time to get ready for the Full Tilt party at the Wynn. Everyone I know is excited. Amy shaved her legs. I shaved, period. Even the Poker Prof will be let out if his bunker to attend the gala event.
There are hordes of media who finally arrived here to cover the WSOP. I've never been in the military, but Flipchip served in Vietnam and he compared the influx of new media folks as fresh grunts entering the jungle for the first time. The guys and gals who have been here for over a month blow them off out of principle. We all have that ghostly look on our faces, or the hundred yard stare where we look right through people. That what happens when you are here until 4am covering an Omaha Hi/Lo event, with only three spectators, only to hear the tournament director announce, "Another chopped pot!" for the twenty-second time in a row. The newbies on the other hand are all bright, chipper, and have wide smiles. They are taking photos with the frequency like a bunch of gawking tourists for central Iowa. They instantly get giddy when they see Texas Dolly or Phil Hellmuth. Like I said, after you've taken thirty-four pisses next to Jesus and Howard Lederer, it's hard to get excited about brushing past the pros you see on TV.
On a cooler note, a fan stopped me in the hallway. He was from England. I think his name was James. I forgot it already. Anyway, he said he reads my poker blog regularly and felt honored to meet me. Pretty cool, huh?
****** Live Blogging Updates ******
4:20pm... Bouncin Round the Room: I've become chummy with a couple of Deadheads here at the WSOP. One guy is a poker dealer from Colorado and the other guy is a floor person from California. Both guys have seen more Grateful Dead shows than me. They both quickly noticed my "Steal Your Face" hat and we've has some amazing conversations over the last few weeks. Nothing like having a shared musical passion (along with poker) that brings folks togther. Behold the power of Jerry Garcia. Probably my favoirte WSOP moment was playing in Event #22, my first ever WSOP tournament, and firing up a Dead bootleg on my iPod. I'll take that special moment to my grave. That memeory has been burned into my internal hardrive.
6:31pm... Bouncin Round the Room: I wish I can say that I was doing live blogging updates. That's not going to happen today. I apologize if you have a hard on for Lowball or wanted to know who's left in the $1K NL with rebuys. I got bogged down into writing not one, but two freelance articles in the last few hours. That took priority, especially since one was for Fox Sports. I also took an extended break hitting on a couple of hot Swedish girls who are selling poker chips in the hallway. I'm a sucker for ladies with accents. Can you tell that I haven't gotten laid in a while? I was going to blog the exact amount of days it's been since my last romp in the sack with everyone's favorite elevator button heiress, but I'm sure some friends of mine would bitch at me for complaining about a meager two month lapse when some of them have gone through dry spells lasting years. So I'll just keep my mouth shut and hope one of the Swedish beauties let's me buy her shots of SoCo at the Full Tilt party.
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