Vroom

Poker. What can I say about poker? I think I'm kinda good at it, having gotten over a weak-tight hump that hampered me for a while. My results in the BBT4 (no links tonight, it's midnight and I've not the wherewithal or the time, as will become apparent, but I'll jam them in there in the ayem, I promise) have been okay. Okay. Perfect term. Like, when you look at the finishing order you say, "Oh, hey, Speaker hung around a little while," but nothing more than that. I've felt, for the duration, a lack of traction when it got down to bidness. And I'd say the results reflect that.

This evening's Mookie was absurd. To wit:

I lose with KK to AT.

I lose with JJ to 78s.

Both of those were all-in pre-flop, where I called shorties. On the other hand...

I beat AJ with 83 (SMTL!), when I open-pushed from the SB.

I beat KK with AK (when a third player in the hand said he folded AK).

So, really, it all evens out, but it left me with kind of a "Fuck, it doesn't matter what I THINK or what I DO, it's all fucking random."

Having come to that conclusion, at least in the short term, I brainstormed about what to do about this universal truth. There was only one answer.

The Turbo Fiddy.

It. Does. Not. get more random that that sonofagun. Nor is it my personal bag, but, heck, I had beer and still felt like playing after bubbling The Mookie (did you think I'd finish anywhere but The Bubble?).

Now, I've played the Turbo Fiddy before and this might seem incongruous, but, patience still works. It's the lack of such in others that is helpful. Armed with this universal knowledge, I got it all in with AK in the third level against QQ.

I did not win. I was left with 135 chips.

I tripled up with KQ. I doubled with 77. I, stop me if you've heard this before, beat KK with AK.

I final tabled the futchker. As the short stack. With an M of 1. Ish. 'Cause that whole traction thing took over again. When aggression and power was the rule, I could not beat anyone into the pot nor look down at anything helpful. But, again, obscene randomness. And profit. Don't forget profit.

T135 to $411. And it only took two hours.

Enjoy Some Gin and Juice This St. Paddy's Day

Cleaning Out My Closet

Not much urge to write lately, which bugs me. Normally, my response to such circumstances is two-fold:

1. Read
2. Embrace the silence

The first is self-explanatory. I get more inspiration from other people's words than any other outlet (music a close second). I just finished Updike's "Couples," an examination of infidelity (what can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment) in the age of burgeoning sexual freedom. Amazing work. Fraught with desperation and bargaining and self-pity. At one point in the novel, the main character says something like, "I expect that any second the world will cease to love me."

I can relate to that. I would say that is the primary reaction to being cheated on. Or, being a cheater. My theory is that infidelity is nearly always a product of a person's feeling of inadequacy, or lacking, within themselves, a hole that can only be filled by something, someone apart from their current life. I would wager we've all felt some measure of that feeling before. It calls on one's character, revealed in how we react.

Heh. I didn't really mean to go all that deep there, but we'll leave it for posterity.

Two, the silence. I'm prone to activity. I don't do a lot of aimless laying about (watching sports excepted). That turns into running around so often that there's no room for reflection, a staple of any writer's diet. A lot of the running is out of my hands, what with Little League starting up, me back playing soccer, a lovely relationship to tend and nurture and the dadgum BBT4, with which I have a love-hate relationship (love to play; hate all the time it takes up, love the competition; hate people flopping the nuts on me). I just haven't had the time to reflect, and thus, to write. To write seriously.

So, I'm going to blog. Less seriously. Consider it stretching.

*

Lots of fun times coming up. AJ and I will make our annual Spring Break trip to the local amusement parks. I tried to form something a little more adventurous this year, like a camping/fishing trip, but was hamstrung by time and a Little League game (I'm Stalin-esque when it comes to AJ attending every game and practice). The following weekend, I'll be in Arizona for Spring Training with Emet (whose brother has a condo in Scottsdale; giddyup) and good friend Salk, trekking in from The ABQ.

Unfortunately, there's another event that weekend that I'll be missing. This Facebook thing is out of control. I've been found by many people from my childhood and a bunch of them, soccer-related, are having a reunion/party that weekend.

When I was 11, my team were state and regional champions. That same year, the girls' 11-year-old team won the same titles. Needless to say, we were linked. In many ways. Like all the "makeout" parties we all attended together. And staying in the same hotels at out-of-town tournaments. Some serious 6th grade Spin the Bottle going on.

Anyways...I can't go (not that I'd trade my existing trip; I wouldn't), but I'll look forward to the pictures. Speaking of which these...well...these are just plain awesome:





Those are some good-looking 6th graders right there. Solid uniforms, too, especially the short shorts. On the subject of soccer jerseys, I was hunting around for a Fernando Torres jersey for Emet (who gives El Nino the Hottie Seal of Approval) because she said she'd wear one and what's hotter than a woman in a Liverpool jersey? Nothing. But I couldn't find anyplace that sells a Reds kit tailored for women. In fact, I found only one men's team that even manufactured one. Though I would say Chivas's sponsor is unfortunate for the product.


What really is there to say after that?