Also bought in for the first 1000 no limit holdem tournament.  I had 20 dollar last longers with all the greats and past champions.  Joe Cada, Jerry Yang, Chino Rheems, Jeff Madsen, and Steve Tapakis AKA (The Big Show)  He finished 12th at the Aussie Millions main event.  Not surprisingly to me, they all busted out in the first level.  As they rolled by my table to pay me my money, the other players were like

“Who the Fuck are you?”

And I was like, “Fuck that shit, you better recognize”.  I played great on day one.  Never got any real hands or into any trouble.  Just stole and value bet everything and was able to slowly chip up when necessary.  At the beginning of the day we starte out with 2601 players.

After 10 levels of play we finished with 276.  I had 44k in chips.

Thought i had only 42, but 44k was what i somehow had when i stacked my chips up on Monday.  Sundays 1b field was alot smaller.  They had 1800 or so.  So the total amount was 4481 players.  When we combined for day 2 play, There were 481 left, and we were 40 from the money.  The small stacks started falling off right away and the big stack motherfuckers who had no business being there in the first place were donkey their chips off right and left.

I got involved in a big hand when I was the big blind with K2 of spades, and this cocksucker who was chip leader at our starting table kept minraising with dick all.  Blinds were 500 and a 1000, and we were 1 from the money.  So he makes it 2k.  I call.  Why the fuck not?  Flop is AQ2.  I check, and idiot fag checks behind me.  Turns a 2.  I bet out 4k.  He raises to 16k.  I’m like “We’re one from the fucking money, what are you doing man?  So I call.  I check the river, because now I’m thinking this little bitch probably has a boat on me, and it’s not worth me finding out.  He pushes all in, and I’m like “you little cocksucker, we’re one from the god damn money, and you’re pulling this shit.”  Then the floor guy gave me a language warning.  So i’m steaming.  I’ve got trip 2′s, and I’m not gonna be knocked out on the bubble, but this little bastard has been playing like a retard.  So I fucken call.  He turns over 10 2.  I turn over my K2 and show he’s out kicked.  We’re in the mother you motherfuckers.

HAHA.  Eat that shit.

And now I”ve a pretty good chip stack too. I grind away the rest of the day, and just try to avoid bad beats and coin flip situations, but as the day wears on, I’ve got no choice but to start getting involved.  in the 8th round, the fagget to my right is in the small blind and looks as if he shaved his ball hair and glued it to his face.  Not a good look by the way fella’s.  He gets a little desperate and goes all in with 33k in the small blind.

I’ve AK in the big blind.

I didn’t want to call, because i hate coin flips.  I think for a minute and give my whole you’re an idiot speech to this cat, then i call.  Fag nut in seat 4 is like “That’s a slowroll” where I replay “you would probably call pocket 22′s a slowroll fag.”  Small blind turns over J6.  I dont seem to do very good against that hand.  Fucken flop is a jack.  Normal.  Fucken normal.  So i double this little bitch up.  The very next hand.  I have 10′s, and this little bastard ships it again on the button.  So I call.  Again he has a Jack, but with an 8 kicker, and hits his fucking Jack.

Just like that, i’m down 100k.  I’m down to 80k, and starting to feel the pinch.  The guy ships my chips all over the table, which is no shocker.  That’s just normal stupidass luckbox pocker at my expense.  I grind away and just float and somehow hang around for 2 more levels.  The 2nd to last hand of the night, i fold QQ to KK preflop.  Guy in seat 3 limps in and it was suspicious, so i just called, and the dude to my left who has been running hot all day raises to 70k, and seat 3 ships it. I instant muck, but i showed the drunk idiot to my right my hand before I do.  Seat 3 has KK, seat 8 has AK.  And he rivers an Ace.  I’m in seat 7 and seat 6 is like, “how do you make that fold.  You’re the man.”

I am the man.  So I get and give my high fives and we go to the last hand of the night. I’ve only 140k left in chips and we’re starting the next day with 6k and 12k.  So seat seven raises to 25k and i look down at 10′s again.  I look at him and say I’ve got you beat.  And I move in.  He thinks about it for a while and says, you lay down QQ and move all in when i raise.  Then he calls with AQ.  Fucken AQ.  Such a fag.  I tell you, in fields that Goddamn big, there are so many idiots that just get lucky again and again and again.  They put their whole tournament life on the line with coinflips.  I hadn’t won one yet.  Flop is a Q.  I’m out in 42nd place.  12600 is my payday for that suckout.  Such a dissapointment, because you make all the right moves and get none of the results when it matters most.  I do get to play my way through as many events this year as possible now.  But damnit, just 41 players were between me and a bracelet.

I’m waking up in a few hours to play the 1500 no limit. Jerry Yang, and Steve Tapakis have last longers with me again.  Ricki Lake gets in in a few hours and we’re gonna root each other along. Will update my facebook and twitter pages to let everyone know how i’m doing, if you even care that is.  This is the WSOP baby.  Fuck all you’ll.  I’m here representing, and I’m here to win. And for all you haters out there, Suck my Black Dick and gargull my nutsack.

Get Rakeback with Makeitrake

Makeitrake, the Rakeback Provider #1 offers you great rakeraces & rakechases, Poker Bonuses & some of the best rakeback offers available! Sign up for Poker Rakeback with Makeitrake to benefit of detailled statistics of your rakeback, and much much more. Sign up for Rakeback now!

This was the weekly email i send out for my poker schedules. Obviously I wasn’t in the greatest mood after the aussie millions tore me a new one. The truth is I got every call i wanted. AA against JJ, KK against QQ twice, 10′s against 5′s, and QQ’s against 66′s. I lost with all of them, and was 0 for 4 with my sets. I got all the calls I wanted, the ones that’ll pay me off in the long run, but the Aussie Millions Main Event was not kind to me. As far as the rest of the trip goes, I had a blast. Went on the internet and found a dodgeball league about 40 minutes away and went and tore it up on the dodgeball court over in Australia. Also made alot of very cool contacts. Tony G and Marsha Waggoner both took a piece of my action for the main event, and alot of the poker sites swapped information with me for possible future sponsorship. Sat and met with 888 poker (very cool guys), Full Tilt Poker (Said if I ever make it onto any featured table, he’ll have his guys come patch me up for any future events), and Party Poker. Party Poker actually has already paid off. Early last month I won a WPT celebrity Invitational Ticket for the tourney happening on Saturday at Commerce Casino. But because of my commitment to play in the Aussie Millions, I decided to sale that ticket and use the money towards that. I was able to get 11k for it. Well a friend at Party Poker was able to get me in that tournament anyways as long as I agree to wear their gear, and that in itself is very cool in my oppinion. I basically get to have the cake and eat it too. Alot of great things have happened since then, my second restaurant has opened in Down Town L.A., I’ve booked a part on the movie Soul Surfer about the chick who got her arm eaten off by jaws. Extreme Room makeover has picked my poker room to do an episode on. I’m going to Tahoe for the Celebrity tourney with Donny Walburg, Jeremy London, and Canseco (Whome is still a dooshbag, but we’ve worked our shit out), and then possibly to New Zeland in April for their poker championships. That is if they come through with their free buyins. Life has been a rollercoaster ride, but mostly on the up. An old friend has come back into my life, and even though there’s alot of history between us, the love hasn’t faded. Only problem is she’s married, and I’ve a wonderful girlfriend. Timing is always shitty. That girl Kesha has blown up and wasn’t a friend of mine, but wasn’t an enemy either. She was dating my dodgeball friend Costanza, and was even out in Vegas for the world championships a few years back playing with us. She was cute, but she was drama. Always fighting with Costanza for not having enough sex with her, but he’s alot older than her and guys aren’t built to outlast the energizer bunny in the sack. So I kept clear of that. But i’m glad at her success. I’m a big fan of seeing people succeed.

1220 players entered on Thursday. My girlfriend had been talking all week about going and making an attempt to play on Friday.  She’s starting to enjoy poker and is actually getting pretty good at it.  She still has alot to learn, but still, she’s better than most.  I still had no intention of playing, but then I saw how pretty she had dressed up to go, and realized every horny bastard would be hounding her all day if I wasn’t there.  So as she was literally going out the front door, i told her to hold up.  Grabbed my shirt and boots, and was officially going to commerce to play in Fridays 2b 500k event. Women.  We arrived early, about 11 am, because we had no desire to be alternates.

Walking into the Casino this early just allowed us to see the all night grinders still grinding away.  I noticed a good friend of mine Jim Lemkin whose a regular at my games.  He had won the 50k guarantee the previous friday and walked away 22.5k richer.  I was glad to have had the honor of watching him make a comeback heads up to take it.  Walked over and said good morning to him.  Was a good thing I did too.  He had a room there, and gave me the key so my girl and I could go sleep until the tourney started at 2pm.  Otherwise we would’ve just took a nap in the car.   We being poker people, have the craziest sleep schedules.  So we were tired.  Jim did us a solid.  Connie and I paid our entrance fee’s, and went up to the room.

I was given a great table draw.  In the main room at Table 15.  Meant I wouldn’t get moved for a while.  Had no idea where Connie was seated.  When the time came to play, my table was weak as hell.  People chasing every draw known to man.  Bluffing with 72.  Raising with 24.  Just idiots being donkeys.  I loved it.  Just sat and waited.  Established my table image as a rock.  And then doubled up with my KK, AA, and AK’s.  Level’s went up every 40 minutes, and the blinds started out at 25 25, so even though we’re only starting with 3000 in chips, it’s a patient mans game.  Waiting was the key.  I find that most players can not play under pressure.  My table was towards the front of the room, and my back was facing the long line of alternates waiting to get into the game.  People were dropping like flies.  While I was sitting there I enjoy talking and getting to know the other players around me.  I find that being friendly at the poker table has it’s perks.  People just feel less compelled to crack you if they like you.  After getting to know everyone for a little while, it was the 3rd round I think, a familiar name came up and started railing me, and this helped give my table image a major boost.

Kenna James was standing behind me and talking to me.  He had become friends with my girlfriend at the last Dream Team Event.  He actually won that.  He and my girlfriend had swapped info, and he started playing at the poker house she works at.  Im pretty sure he has a crush on her, but he’s been real respectful and he and I have even become friends somewhat.  He was an alternate for this event and while he was waiting, he was just watching how I was doing.  That made me feel a little special.  The entire table wondered who the hell I was, and i just flat out told them, I’m a nice guy.  People like me.  As the day wore on, all the alternates had gotten in, and I had increased my chipstack tremendously.  Connie had gotten knocked out in the 2nd or 3rd round and was playing the cash games and walking around and saying her hello’s to friends and whatnot.  We know alot of poker players.  I had been using my table image to my advantage and started increasing my chipstack big time.

I was definitly a big stack.  Had made it to just before the dinner break, and the donkey to my right who had sat with me all day had sucked out on 2 all in players and taken the lead at the table as far as having chips.

I had 38k, he had maybe 40k.  I’m in the small blind with AA, 4 people limp in.  Blinds are 400 800 with 75 ante. I bump it up to the 13k.  And 2 players fucking call me.  The flop is  345 rainbow.  I go all in, and get 1 guy to fold.  The button however who sucked out to take the chip lead, thinks about it, looks at me and says “I feel like gambling”.

Calls with Q8 of diamonds.

Granted there was no straight draw, or flush draw.  This is the dream call everyone wants with my hand.  Before anything else happens, I call the guy an idiot.  The Turn? 6. The River? 7.  This motherfucker runner runnered a straight on me.  Was again reminded about how much I hate Commerce players.  Out of 1289 players, I was out in 180th.  Called my girl to go and steamed out.  On the way home, was just in disbelief on how bad my luck was and pissed off at how donkey retard poker play seemed to always be rewarded against me deep in tourneys.  Was very dissapointed.  Got home, saw a movie, played some online poker, and just continued to shake my head on how idiots seem to thrive in this game.  Around 4am, i still couldn’t let it go, and I turned to my girl and told her, “I’m going back and playing again today.  Those fucking players are garbage.”  And just like that we were in the car and on our way to commerce at 4am to reserve our spots.

Saturday was expected to be the biggest turnout of the 4 day event.  And it was.  We get there to register at 4:30, and we’re alternates 70 and 71.  Saturday would have 1600 players.  I was seated at table 62, and came out swinging.  Started playing my cards hard, and going after the fish.  Knocked out 4 people in my first level.  Then ran out of steam, when my QQ’s ran into AA’s.  But was still healthy with chips.  Stayed conservative and Patient.  The day wore on, Connie got knocked out.  Kenna James got knocked out, Barbara Enright got knocked out, and they would all visit me to see how I was doing.  I was fine, patient, and just slowly staying afloat and above the chip average for the day.  135 spots were getting paid.  And it was a major grind to get to that point.  I could’ve stole pots, but I was not going to be fucking bubble boy that day.  So I just took my time with each hand and got blinded down to 11k when the bubble was finally popped.  Everyone went crazy and started going all in like there was no tomorrow.  Had to stay conservative and wait for them to either get knocked out or calm down.  Then was able to start chipping up.  As the night wore on, we had been playing for 13 hours.  And I had built my chip stack up to 180k.  I woke up with AA and would get them cracked by 44.  Fucking sucked.  If I had of won that hand, I would’ve been entering the next day as chipleader.  Of course I didn’t.  My monsters do not hold up.  I’m just not lucky like that.  I have to outplay my luck it feels like.  I was crippled down to 75k, and was able to build it back up to 92k when the final player bubble was popped for the day.

I had made the final 27 for the biggest field of the event.  I would show up on Sunday in 53rd place out of 81 remaining.  Built my stack up to 200k.  Then had JJ cracked by as short stacks 77.’s.  Then eventually my QQ all in preflop would lose to AQ.  Of course the Ace is going to come out on the flop.  Out of 3967 players, I would end up in 57th.  Had just one of my monsters held up late in the tournament, i would’ve been in a position to take it.  I’m glad I went back on Saturday.  I had alot of friends supporting me and sending me text to keep my mind in it.  Alot of the big guns were cheering for me too from both close and afar.  Jerry Yang was a big supporter, making me give updates, Marsha Waggoner, Pam Brunson, Christina Lindley, Jose Canseco, Kenna James, and Barbara Enright were all great in cheering me on.  Of course none of this would’ve happened if my girlfriend hadn’t dressed so pretty that morning.  This was the furthest I’ve gone in any field event.  It just lets me know, that I am a good poker player.  Even though my Aces got cracked 5 times, my queens cracked 4 times, and my Jacks cracked when I needed them to hold up most.  I can completely outplay my luck, and I will have no problem advancing further in the next one.

I fucking hate and love this game.

I understand that fucking thing that makes people hate making it through another day and convinces some to just give up. I feel uneasy and claustrophobic at times, and get myself into believing that a drastic change is needed or neccesary in my life. I believe we all get that way at times. None of us are ever happy with what we have in our grasp. We’re always yearning for what’s just outside our reach. Reading about DJ Am yesterday had me thinking today,”Why?” What’s the point of surviving death once just to take your life again later?

I hurt. I feel pain all the damn time. Every time I take a step, my feet ache. My fingers hurt when someone shakes my hands too hard. I’m so dissapointed time and time again. But why take your life? It’s pointless. Especially when you have so much going for you. In the land of the starving, God gives nuts to those without teeth. That’s what a good friend (Ali, one of the Pan-Am high-jackers of 1986) of mine back in Pakistan told me once. He hit that nail on the head.

DJ Am had fame, money, could do whatever, go where ever, do whom ever, yet still, he was so miserable he took his own life. I feel like doing that every fucking day. But that’s the selfish way out. The easy way. The cowardly way. No matter how bad it gets, it could always be worse.

The food in Pakistan was horrible. It was Dal. Sort of a lentil soup with pieces of potato and sometimes chicken. Spicy as hell, and we’d have to share it with cats. The food made me sick. Literally. That stuff would have me shitting sideways. I’d have to turn my body 90 degrees just to keep from painting the walls in my little squat toilet. I was always sick in Jail. Bad water. Bad soup. Horrible environments. God hates Pakistan. That country is not favored by any means.

During the summer it would get to over 130 degrees, the winter, you’d be freezing your nuts off. Never normal or pleasant weather. Bad food, crappy weather, sand storms, scorpions, mosquito’s, bee’s, rats, cockroaches, spiders, snakes, frogs, millions and millions of flies and dirty ass loud cats. I hated those cats. Always fighting each other at night. Stealing your food when you slept. It took me a long time to get used to things. I had to eat their food the first part of my stay, but eventually i was able to start purchasing food by having the guards bring it in for me. Give those corrupt bastards a few bucks, and they’d lick your toes if that was your thing. I remember my first bottle of ketchup. The dal, and rice, and burnt roti’s were so bad, that you just didn’t want to eat. But starving wasn’t fun. And I had to keep my strength. I needed to eat. So ketchup would fix everything. No matter how bad it got, there was always ketchup. Eggs undercooked. Ketchup. Rice too cold, ketchup. Out of toothpaste, ketchup. I would put that on everything the paki’s made for me. Ketchup is like ducktape. Very useful.

When the crazy German Ziggy (this guy was a motherfucker) was having his room searched, and the guards were confiscating all his cooking tools, radios, dirty magazines, and illegal contraband and what not, he yelled over to me, ” Erik! They’re taking my things!” Like i was gonna do something to help him, and I just casually hollered back, “Hey, there’s always Ketchup.” That was my way of letting him know, it could always be worse.

There were many times back then, and still today, that I thought about taking my own life. These thoughts suck. But I can’t ever act on them. Life is tough as hell sometimes. And I’m sure tougher for most given their circumstances. But through every dark day there’s a bright shiney day after that. So no matter how hard it gets, stick your chest out, keep your head up, and handle it. And just put some ketchup on it. You’ll feel better.

So I moved the desk and opened the door.  The room was filled with Pakistani cops.  They were pissed.  They secured me if you want to call it that.  The Pakistanis went overboard in grabbing me. Little people.  3 on each arm. The DEA agents (3 of them in all) told me not to run, which was a joke.  Where the fuck was I gonna go.

As the guards lead me across the airport, we passed the luggage where the drugs came out of, only now it had all my clothing, and belongings from my other luggage in it.  They took photo’s of me in front of it for the newspapers.  Being the smartass I was, I posed for pictures.  Fuck it,  If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna have some fun.  I figure I’d give a jest to the crowd, flip the nooseman a nickel and go down with both thumbs up. I could’ve gotten away, but where was I gonna go?

I was also under the illusion that the truth would come out, and everything would work itself out.  I was taken to another office, and the DEA agents were let in there with me, with only 1 Pakistani guy.  It was obviously his office.  He just sat at his desk and watched.  The Agents weren’t there to help me.  They were there to talk shit and try to scare me.  They told me that I didn’t have to talk to them, but it would probably help my cause if I did.  I told them what I was doing there, how I met my friend that I started working for.  What I believed I was being used to do.  They didn’t buy a word.

Everytime I got through half an answer to one of their questions, another agent would try to ask me a question, I’d be half way through the answer to his question, when another one would ask me another question, and another.  They were trying to catch me in a lie, and i realized they were just fucking with me, and not believing a word I was saying.  This just started pissing me off, and I realized pretty quick that they were just being assholes.  So I became Aude’ again.  Smartass.

I didn’t care about me.  I did care about the bastard that set me up, and the others that were making these trips.  I told them straight up. “Look, I know I’m fucked.  But just in case I’m telling the truth, there are others making these trips.  At least give me the benefit of the doubt, check out the information I gave you, and warn the others.”  They didn’t listen to a word I said.  They wanted to know my contacts in Pakistan.  Wanted to know how long I’ve been a drug smuggler.  Who my drug contacts were.  How long I’ve been using.

Where I realized they were completely full of shit was when one of the dickheads told me that if I’m not given the death penalty here in Pakistan, then after I get out, if I get out, I”ll be looking at 20 years in an American prison.  I laughed at him.  Threw in his face a movie called Double Jeopardy.  Cant be charged twice for the same crime. Especially when it’s out of their jurisdiction.  Hollywood taught me something.  Told the guys they were a bunch of fucking assholes and to blow me.  Now they laughed. Let me know that I may of thought I was a tough guy now.  But that I was gonna soon realize just how weak I really was.

They opened the door to leave, and before the last Agent left, he looked at me and said, “He’s all yours.”  I blacked out shortly after the rifle hit me in the head.  I would be tortured for the next 3 days for information I didn’t have.  I would be hung up like a punching bag and used as one.  Drowned, electrocuted, and have the bottom of my feet beaten for the entire day. Was not fed the entire time.  The embassy would send people to come see me and make sure I wasn’t being treated any different than anyone else, but that didn’t mean a whole lot.  Because the way Pakistan works, they figure if you’re not gonna tell them the truth, they can beat it out of you.

I knew my mom was worried as hell, and I knew the Embassy couldn’t do anything anyways.  So I kept my mouth shut, and I took it.  And I said nothing.  On the last day, they just wanted me to admit the drugs were mine.  When the day was finally over. I was dragged out of that room a complete mess.  Not able to walk out on my own strength.  But I admitted nothing.  A week before, I was filming an MTV television show called “The Andy Dick Show”.   This week i was in Pakistan getting tortured for a crime I didn’t commit.

Life is fucking Hillarious.

Rai’s contacts came to my hotel that morning about an hour before my flight was to leave.  I had been sick and counting the minutes till it was time to go.  They brought the suitcase up to my room so that I could confirm that all the clothing was checked and accounted for.  Looking back, that was a major tale that something was wrong.  The other trips I had gone on, I would be used to carry two suitcases full of leather clothing.  This time it was only one.

I called Rai to ask him if this was correct and let him know that everything looked in good condition.   All was fine as far as he was concerned.  As I was rushed to the airport, talking with his contacts with promises that the next trip would be way better, i humored them as if I would ever return to that country.

The airport was very busy that morning, and I was directed to the customs checkpoint immediately.  There was a long line of locals. All short.  I stood out quite a bit.  The average person came up to my shoulders.  A customs officer waved me to the front of the long line.  Sometimes it pays to be tall.

While opening my suitcase I was asked a simple question.  “Business or Pleasure”  from which I responded. “Pleasure is my business.”  Hard to believe, but I did not get a laugh.  He didn’t seem to care about my suitcase and was fine with everything.  I was told to pack it up.  As I was about to go through the metal detectors, another customs agent, this one dressed in a suit, came up and grabbed my arm.  “Are you carrying narcotics?”  I simply replied, “Check it again.”

My suitcase that Rai’s contacts gave me was opened and poured out onto the table.  They escorted me to one room, and took the empty suitcase to another.  The whole time I was thinking to myself that they better get me a new suitcase if they destroy that one.  Alot of time went by, and I was worried about missing my flight.

The customs officer came back into the room holding two thin square sealed packaged.  Either green or brownish.  My memories fucking with me.  He asked me what it was.  I told him “You’re holding it.”  He said “This is ophium” (That’s how they say it in Pakistan) I responded “Why are you showing me this?”  He simply said “It came out of your suitcase.”  Like a ton of bricks dropping on me, I realized exactly what I was being used to do.  I felt so unbelieveably stupid.

Get Full Tilt Rakeback Now!