Warmup
I finished 4th in The Mookie. I currently love myself. That's the whiskey talkin', a little. And also a bit of "I played damn good poker," a trait that has been in frighteningly short supply lately.
But...fear not...I'm still an idiot. I sucked out once, down to 12 players (8 paid) when I open-pushed short with A6 and out-flopped AT. I also laid my tournament on the line not once, but twice, with The Hammer. I got Mean Gene to lay down 77 with an egregious over-re-raise push (putting him so much on tilt he got the blinds the very next hand with a Hammer of his own) and then open-shoved all my chips into the middle at the Final Table, only to get sucked out on by surflexus and his AQ.
Speaking of Gene, he's Bonafide, landing a gig at the UltimateBetBlog, a well-deserved appointment even if it means he won't be joining the rest of us Proper Football fans watching Arsenal-Chelsea at the tail end of a 24-hour bender next Sunday morning in Vegas.
And to those of you who so kindly donated to my prize pool tonight, look me up in Vegas and I'll give it back in a cash game. In spades.
3 Comments:
I blame the secret you-know-what happening you-know-when for losing my concentration during the Mookie.
Fourth place. If only I'd had the cojones to call with those sevens. Damn those middle pairs, damn them!
"Oh Brother Where Art Thou" is one of my favorite movies of all time. Hmm, maybe put it on right now...
Dammit, I'd friggin LOVE to watch Chelsea-Arsenal with Al there. Now I'm tilted again. Wonder if Abramovich has hired food tasters with all the Russians going down with that oh-so-common Polonium poisoning?
I'll bring the java if you can scout out where to take in the footie game. See you next week.
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