Prelude to the Party

With a drizzle of rain coming down, it was time to make some money for healthy boobies at the Riverchasers charity poker tournament. Reacquainted friends over the past few hours at the bar started to huddle into their cars to head over for a stage of decent food and rebuy retardedness with not-so-invisible internet friends. I was rucky enough to have the lovely CK to my left as I arrived at the banquet hall after four Nordic guys (Bam-Bam, donkaa, Carson, and myself) piled into the back of Riggs’ truck for a laugh track that wouldn’t die down the entire weaving ride to the linen topped poker tables.

Maybe next time I’ll ask how to become an honorary Canuck. For the time being, find Bam-Bam's cigarette story. Epic.

Met the lovely Pebbles for the first, yet second time and then The Wife ruined my entire weekend behind her alluring grin by remembering to embarrass me with more Packer gear. Of course rubbing it in with a 3X World Champions hat, a cruel reminder that the Vikes’ have a 0-4 record in the big game, and might win the Super Bowl sometime before a McDonald’s is put on Mars.

Jerk.

But a hot one.

Followed in by Doc whose smile almost exceeded mine, and one that wouldn’t leave the whole weekend either. Sat down with my tray of food, chatted it up with Spaceman and the radiant one, his lovely wife Rachel about the crazy WCOOP. Then the poker happened, with Me, CK, Falstaff, then Al in a half-circle with Riggs sitting across from us all in varying states of alcohol levels and armed with stacks of 20s we played a little poker.

I think the tally for our table hit 30 rebuys, I personally put in seven of those, but I was more interested in the fun which died several hours later that night from someone who was serious about the whole thing and took Five. Minutes. Every. Freakin. Decision.

I think a fish slap would have been appropriate.

Dude killed my buzz quicker then seeing your parents having sex on a Vegas hotel room balcony, and he also cracked my aces one table before the final two table were set thus sent me to find a place to “rest my eyes” BG-style after being up for the last 24 hours. Thankfully the awesomely slimmed down version of Dawn Summers and Bacon Bikini Mary came to the rescue of myself, Otis, and Badblood offering a ride back to which I accepted any piece of real estate they would offer.

Tomorrow… Pub Olympics, Throwing my hands in the air like I still don’t care, Owning the Bracelet (but envy the hottie next to him, lucky bastard)