A question recently popped into my head due to the whirlwind of a weekend with the softball team at Treasure Island casino.
Is it more fulfilling to be the worst player on a winning team or the best player on a losing team?
If there was anything to describe the play at the poker tables over the weekend, I can’t imagine Webster came up with a word for it. Blind five way capped straddles three times in a row ended my blood red runs at the tables, as I scooped up the pittance of chips left over. In over nine hours played, I managed to get one pocket pair higher then nines, which promptly squashed the small and big blinds for their forced $4 total when I raised one off the button.
I watched a portly asian girl with large glasses and a penchant for shaking uncontrollably if she had hand, call down three bets on the river with nine high on a paired board that was also four flushed. No, we were not playing four card poker. A scary skater dude with pierced nose, lips, and probably other needlized body parts to go with his flaccid way of placing chips into a pot that took longer then sixty year old guy waiting for his Cialis to kick in made a game I’d never been in.
I was immediately straddled every hand by the Vietnamese hospital worker to my left who translates for the doctors, excellent chair selection by yours truly since he seemed to also be the one solid player in the game. Figuring his homage to Michael Bennett meant he was an oft-injured running back who can’t get through the holes of his game, the #32 jersey was a simple statement that “I’m a Vikes fan, and hope to all that is holy that Peterson is half the showstopper he should be”.
Somehow I managed to post a decent sized red number over the weekend and will need to reload from the online accounts for a little tourney I’ll be playing in June. I wish I could detail a little more about the guy who looked like Francis “Chainsaw” Gremp after a shave and a shower from “Summer School”, who managed to tilt the rest of the table by turning his last $100 into $400 within an orbit by playing blind, but I must get on with my newly busy life of shuttling around in my pimpin 87’ Cavalier which my brother and dad graciously fixed up after a burst water pipe or something mechanical that a number cruncher like me wouldn’t understand.
Thanks for dropping by, now please go and watch my plunge on the BloggerPokerChallenge leaderboard looking up at the blogfather (which is damn tough to do at 6'4"), as I free fall out of the top 10, then top 20, due to not being able to play or making superawesomelevel15styledstealattemptswithsOOOtedcards and breaking myself.
A test... Lindsay Lohan's left nipple piercing photo is not here.