Pseudoephedrine Dreams

I had a dream last night that my buddy Triple J called me on the phone, which is something he never does, preferring to send me cryptic three-word e-mails and anonymously comment on my gayness here on the blog, which is ironic since the reason for this dream call was to ask how my other friend Sveek was looking.

And I have to say Dream Sveek, conveniently popping up in time, looked pretty good, with a starched and pressed midnight blue shirt and tie, though his pants were a little snug. I prefer some give in the crotchal area of my slacks, though I wasn't wearing pants at the time, since I was asleep and I only sleep in my pants after too much Jaegermeister.

Then I had a dream about my parents who, though long divorced, decided to move to Vegas. I didn't get the back story why they were suddenly reunited, but was excited at the prospect of moving to Vegas until informed that I would be party to the move. Would, in fact, be a primary facilitator of the move, thereby totally screwing up my schedule for at least a week. I started mentally counting the hours I'd be spending in rented trucks on lonely desert roads before realizing there is no way in fucking hell I am going to do this because it's just ridiculous and it's also a dream.

Nyquil rules.

*************************

Interestingly, none of my best friends play poker. Part of that is that none of them live near me any longer so are unable to feel the full weight of my bad influence. In Triple J's (also answers to Salk and Horowitz) case, this is surprising since he is at least partially responsible for my introduction to the poker craze as he was the first to alert me to the WPT broadcasts, which is where my interest was spawned. If I were handicapping the group, I'd say he has solid potential, for success and for humor, since he's the most easily and hilariously tiltable human I know. He'd be like Hellmuth if you added in the certainty of things being thrown. And next to me, he's got the most gamble in him.

Sveek (Donny 7, Ron Don Majaworski, Little Buddy) would be a solid analytical player, with a strong handle on the math, but he'd get bored easily clicking and folding. Doesn't have a lot of gamble in him (the operation of motor vehicles excepted), but possesses an effective Nordic arrogance that could be intimidating.

Kool Breeze (Brent, Bread, Roll, Rollie Kol) would benefit from a live environment, his exceptionally affable--and somewhat goofy--personality the perfect table image. He's also most likely to put in the study and practice time to improve.

Schott (Stick, Throck) is hard to figure. He's always been the most cautious and I've rarely seen him wager. He is, however, an athlete and competitor, as well as even-keeled emotionally. I think he'd be tough, because he's my teammate and we rule at everything.

Of course, none of these wienies are man enough to take me on.

********************

I had way too much fun for a sick guy in that tourney last night. Thanks again. It has been brought to my attention that full disclosure is necessary, since it really is totally unfair what I did last night. Most of you can't even be expected to deal with me on the virtual felt, let alone when I pass the baton to Bobby Bracelet.

See, my computer ESPLODED! about five minutes before the second break. It not only closed all my running programs, but froze as well. I called my wingman in Michigan to play my stack, as I was sitting 6th with about 13 left, when it all went down. After some clever machinations (okay, I couldn't recall my Stars password, so we had to get a new one), Bobby sat with my stack coming out of the break. In addition, I stayed on the line with him and we played it together. That's right, two of the greatest minds in poker playing a single stack.

Being the heat of the moment and all, it didn't occur to me at how much of a disadvantage the rest of the field unknowingly found itself. And yes, during those 8 minutes or so of tandem genius we managed to cut the stack in half. NO MATTER! It was unfair to expect mere mortals to compete with this two-headed poker diety (Bacchus and Priapus?).

But it was I, and I alone, who, recovered from the computer problems that ailed me, rivered the Jack against facty. It was also I who dropped the hammer UTG. Regardless, should such complications arise again, well, tough.