Resistance is Futile

The next (and last?) WPBT satellite to WSOP Event #2 has been scheduled.

Iggy's got the goods. Do as he says. Look into his eyes. You're getting sleepy.

Seriously, it's the least you can do for The Man. Considering the amount of time I (you, the American People) spend in Uber-ville, I can only imagine The Man hours required to assemble those epics.

I'm already registered (#8!). Was browsing the site, as well. Only about 500 players on there last night, which means we could probably take the whole thing over if we wished. Noticed some tourneys that look to have big overlays, with guarateed money and small fields. Might have to take a run at those in the coming days.

The tourney is open to readers as well. I wonder if my non-blogger readers (I know exactly who you three are) are up for it. Whaddya say, fellas?

Now hop around and quack like a duck.

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I have not had much of a chance to get in my requisite poker hours this week. When the dear and patient wife is ovulating, you do not want to say "I'll be up in a few." No, you do not. Drives your implied procreation odds way down.

I did manage to get in a few orbits of $2/$4 on Stars last night, though. And boy did I sit the right table. LAGs to the left of me, calling stations to the right. Every species of fish imaginable was present and accounted for. They may as well have had neon signs on their foreheads. Took me all of an orbit to see what I was obviously up against. It was one of those times where I was three steps ahead of the table. I provided commentary to the wife the entire time.

"I'm gonna limp here with my Big Slick in the small blind."
"Why?"
"Because the big blind is gonna raise and I'm gonna 3-bet."

"My kicker sucks, but I've got him beat. He's playing second pair."

"He's gonna raise my bet on that flop. I'm just gonna call and check-raise him on the turn."

Done. Done. And done. Snatched 18 BBs in 45 minutes. It was like a symphony and I had the baton, baby. Just one of those days when you feel infallible.

I've been dabbling at $3/$6 online for a few weeks, but not quite ready to make the jump completely. I have the bankroll now, but haven't been playing enough limit to feel totally comfortable. I'm also kinda going through a psychological thing where I don't want to kill my 'roll before Vegas and am therefore loathe to risk larger chunks of it as the weekend draws closer. I keep my poker/gambling money militantly separate from "real" money and would hate to have to head to Cibola with a withered stake.

I realize this is somewhat counter-intuitive, since my results lately have been beter than good. I was playing fine and dandy and worry-free with a third less bankroll only 3 weeks ago. So I decided to just pull out my Vegas money now. Stash it in a drawer and quit playing like a sissy. This is the part of my game I really have to work on the most, the psychological aspects of money. Time to go to the bookstore.

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I never did get around to making a wager with Mr. CantHang on the Liverpool-Chelsea semifinal. If you haven't heard, I--oh, and Liverpool--won, holding the Blues scoreless for 180 minutes over two legs. Incredible, even more so for a team employing Djimi Traore. I still do owe Al a bottle of SoCo from the Carling Cup Final, so maybe he can be talked into a rousing rendition of "You'll Never Walk Alone" at some point during the Vegas proceedings. Or maybe he can talk some strippers into singing it. I'm easy.