Dale Earnhardt, Joe Montana (college), Babe Ruth

Happy Blog Anniversary to Me. Three years. 3. Yeesh. The only thing I've ever held on to for longer than three years was that condom in my wallet during high school. No, it's not still there, smartass. I got a new wallet.

My holiday was nice, thank you. The weekend that followed it, not so much. I wallowed in existential filth (Who am I? What is my fucking problem? Where did I put the peppermint lotion?), as I am wont to do from time to time, but I have successfully belly-crawled from the muck. I went 72 hours without a shower. I reeked like a portable toilet at Woodstock. Police showed up at the apartment because neighbors reported a "dead body" smell. I didn't win any parlays.

The BBTwo is draining my bankroll slowly but surely. I've felt quite solid about the my game lately and, in fact, I was "in the zone" last Wednesday for The Mookie. I'd played exquisitely (playperfectpokerplayperfectpoker) for better than two hours and was mid-pack down to 20. I had doubled up early when an unfortunate player limp-called my button raise. He had A9 s000000ted. Seriously, people do this against me all the time. The flop, naturally, had an ace and a nine. But also a two, which went nicely with the pair of dueces in my hand. Later, down to three tables, we were six-handed and I picked up QQ in the SB. A short-stack pushed for about half what I had left and I jammed to isolate, as the BB had twice my stack. You know the BB woke up with KK. Six-handed. Shortie had AK. Three premium hands out of six. RNG douchery personified.

In the Riverchasers event on Turkey evening, I had the pleasure to play a) sober and b) on dialup (Time spent downloading FT software on Mom's computer: Thursday). Yes, my mother's home is a farmhouse in the 1850s. No booze, no hi-speed. I played well for an hour, more agggressive than usual, because my Mom was giving me shit about playing poker on Thanksgiving, so when my suited Big Slick was re-raised at Level 8, I shoved in against riggs. He agonized for a while over his QQ, but finally called, correctly pegging a race. And you know how races end up against me. Not only do you win, but you make quads. Awesome. I can only win a race when riggs is dealing. Ah, those were the days.

I was really looking forward to last night's MATH. I love (love, love, love) a good re-buy. Last night was not a good re-buy. My table--dear people, bless them all--was not the proper environment for a re-buy. They were holding onto their stacks ($10) like Mormons. (I believe it was Lavell Edwards who said, "When Mormons go on vacation, they carry two things: the Bible and ten bucks, neither of which they take out of their pockets.") Now, I can exploit a tight table, and did end the re-buy period up a grand from my starting stack (plus one re-buy off the top), but there were 130 re-buys total and I'm guessing less than 10 came from my table. One guy wasn't even there. So, while others were amassing chips, we were grinding out small pots. Which put us at a slight disadvantage as we moved to the knockout stages and bigger stacks arrived.

I raised pre-flop twice in the knockout stages. Someone had AA both times. The first time, it would have worked out for me. jeciimd was short and simply called with his rockets on the button. But then The Fat Guy re-raised from one of the blinds. I had to fold my pocket deuces. The cost was too high, roughly a third of my stack, to go set mining. The flop had a two. So did the river. Awesome.

The second time, I was down to T2400. It was the 100/200 level, so I was close to push and pray, but I figured a raise of just 600 would signal to the table that I wanted action. They duly folded around to the BB who pushed and I, in a bubble of pristine clarity, called with my Suited Hammer. Though I paired on the flop and picked up the flush draw on the turn, AA sucked out on me. Fish.

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I have finally started the Anticipation Machine regarding Vegas. I've found the best way to deal with existential filth is to drown it in alcohol. I learned that from Dr. Phil. He also advocates making a complete ass out of yourself, which I'm also good at, though not as good as drizz. So Vegas is coming at the right time.

thg (who loves pocket jacks) has already posted some betting lines. I'm gonna offer straight cash. That's right. Mobneys. I'll give $1 to the first person to:

Ask F-Train if he's been working out.

Ask Betty if she's a stripper (I might donate extra for lasciviousness level).

Ask Iggy if he's ever been to Humpy's.

Ask Uncle Bracelet to help with the math.

Call DonkeyPuncher on the phone and ask what time we're supposed to meet at Spearmint Rhino.

Actually, on the last one, I'll give a dollar every time someone does that. I'm willing to go to $100.

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I'm thankful for three years in this space and finding all the good fortune that eludes me on the felt in the friendships I've made.