I Miss Cyndi

For those who liked the idea from yesterday:

What: Become your favorite blogger and write in their “voice” (you could even change the look of your gay blog to mirror their gay blog)
When: April 1st (April Fools Day!!)
Who: Anyone who's not a douchebag or has committed douchebaggery
Why: Because poker bloggers are in touch with their sexuality enough not to be offended (I hope)

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I want to thank all the people for their praise on Monday’s post. I am not a writer, nor do I desire to become one, but I can shoot out a few metaphors and enjoy chatting on the virtual screen about card games, potty training, and hating the weather here in Minnesota.

Because that’s my world.

Pauly wrote a post recently about writing professionally and finding your voice. My voice is a simple one, suburban dad who is a cube monkey for a company he has worked at for over a decade (yes I’m only 31), who has a gambling gene passed down from his mother who gets free show tickets and hotel rooms from Mystic Lake despite playing nothing more then nickel slots. You won’t find me globe-trotting or tipping back mimosas at 4am with ladies of the night at the hookah bar in Vegas (maybe something to do during the next WPBT live event…). Just a regular guy with pasty white thighs, can hit a softball a decent length that’s never been called attractive except by one non-family member female (and its not my wife and that doesn’t bother me) and enjoys his “daily grind” a lot more these days.

I read recently about someone asking to become a better blogger. My advice is simple.

Be yourself.

Don’t create a persona like you did while trying to get into Cyndi’s Care Bears thong in high school. Not that I ever did that or went on a date right after a hockey game without showering and for some reason thought Duran Duran and Tears for Fears was romantic music for leading into a first kiss because I’m the exact opposite of Don Juan.

People are interesting in their own way, you may not be a pretty snowflake or the head cheerleader but you’d be surprised that people do enjoy reading about someone else’s misadventures while attending an old friend’s wedding and running into some one-night stand from 10 years ago... and find her wearing the bride’s dress. Mix that in with some poker-y goodness, a struggle at ANY limit of poker has a lesson behind it. And you’ve got yourself a readable poker blog.

As for blog traffic, not that I care for traffic but writing key words like Scarlette Johansson’s nipples found outside of a Thai whorehouse worker’s cock fighting sex farm. Will probably give you traffic, but not the kind you’re looking for. Unless you like web hits from perverted middle aged men who still live in mommy’s basement and chain smoke Marlboro Ultra Lights while beating off to bestiality porn.

Yes, I’m still playing poker with bad results. I am plugging some leaks I have while relearning limit hold em try to save a few bets here and there (giving people more credit for having that ace when it flops while holding TT, JJ, or QQ). I just hope to have a bankroll left when I’m done with the learning process.

This weekend I’ll be bowling for beers at a tournament in Cloquet, MN home of the Black Bear Casino. Hitting a strike with a red pin as the head pin wins you a frothy tap beer. Any tips on getting a decent buzz going before 10am besides the obvious Jag bombs? I bowl much better drunk then sober, it’s a fact, last weeks scores... (131 – 210 – 245) guess when I drank more.

Black Bear has a card room in which my ass will be finding a seat for a few hours, but due a family member’s wedding reception the following morning, it won’t be an all-night session. I haven’t had a profitable session there, as the ice fishermen seem to enjoy taking their crank-bait to me and scooping pots with trash hands. I’ll have to re-read Felicia’s guide for live play and put on my best fake smile after watching a 20BB pot go to someone playing pretty sOOted cards. I even have my line ready to say after such an occurance.

“Nice hand sir is that Liquid Lure XXX you’re wearing today?”

Thanks for dropping by, now if you haven’t read about Otis’ misadventures in Monte Carlo, go here to check it out. I think a swiss army knife, some tin foil, and bark from a Maple tree would have helped Richard Dean Anderson get out of that mess, but WWOD?