I felt like singing a Wilson Phillips song for BG last night as I feel the pain he’s going through with his job and hope there’s more chicken and frites goodness and less corporate politics in his future. I’ve always been a firm believer in the train of thought that hard work = being rewarded for that work.
This was a poker blog at one time and occasionally I mused about playing, strategy, and how to tilt even while playing $.50/$1 limit hold em or O8. The stakes have been raised, then lowered, then raised, then Fristed, and now I’m in grind mode. Grind does not equal playing ABC poker any longer and my spreadsheet has rewarded me with more ups and downs then found at the Bunny Ranch in Pahrump during the NBA All-Star weekend. The bad part is more variance to stomach; the good part is a steady increase in mobneys.
Did it really take me almost two years to become profitable solely on the cards and not how many raked hands I could blow through? The game has finally changed for me as I actually look back at hands now and become visually disgusted by some of my actions. Sure, I’ll bitch instantly about that “suckout”, but lately I’ve been replaying those hands that I wasted money on bad reads as the bankroll killers.
Twice last night I called down in a spot between two bettors knowing I was in-between the nut low and a strong high hand. Why? Because I had notes on the opponents for being weak and what better way to battle weak players with weak cards right?
** buzzer **
Sorry Johnny, for your stupidity, you just won our complimentary home version of “I've Got A Secret” (not an entirely horrible show on the Game Show Network) in which you tell yourself your secret and giggle for hours while scrolling through high school girls’ MySpace pages convincing yourself you are special enough for Mi$$y69 to be her personal friend.
I know I blamed PokerPeaker’s ability to sit down in an IM chat with me and instantly have some cold deck wipeout my night’s profit ala Macy in the “The Cooler”. The blame was squarely on my small shoulders, for the wasted bets that should never have sent an electronic pulse to Full Tilt’s servers stating “yes I’d like to give the frog icon some money”.
Did I mention I only lost $8 after counting nearly $200 lost in stupid bets/calls? Mental toughness is something I lack when I hear something like Phil’s cat claws-on-chalkboard-performance last night on Idol. If they needed someone to butcher a song and turn the number one show on TV into Billy’s Bar and Grill Thursday Karaoke and $1 tap beer/wings night, I’ll do it for a guest spot on “Girls Next Door” as the playmate’s special, slightly geekish, chalk white personal assistant for the day.
Grotto time, for the sake humanity, will not be aired.
Thanks for dropping by, now cast your votes America… and PLEASE don’t pick that kid Sanjayeyajaeyiuy with the dog chew toy pitched voice. His 15 minutes were up once the sister got the boot.
Edit: Due to laziness and a certain baby's penchant for waking daddy up at 1am... I spaced out on Pauly's latest "Truckin" issue!
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