You know what really clears a muddled mind? Losing at poker.
Today was spent running around the Rio... rooting for people.
Everything was fun... the thought of the endless possibilities had me buzzing with excitement.
I saw all but ONE of my poker favorites... yeah, I have those. After all these years of distancing myself from the poker world, I realized I'm still completely enthralled by this skill... and the people who excel at it.
The dudes are still hot as fuck, and the girls are still intimidating as fuck.
Anyway, I spent my morning at the Rio, but left at noon to hit the gym. It was the worst hour I've had in a while. I kept checking my phone, dreading a text from M telling me he had busted out of the tournament.
But no... it was so fucking exciting... because he'd send me updates on how low his stack was running, and I'd calm him down... and when he'd triple up, I'd keep him level headed so he'd avoid pulling overconfident moves.
After gym time was completed, I went home and washed up as soon as possible... just to head back out to the Rio to catch more of the action.
I was STILL so overjoyed by the fact that 6 in the afternoon had rolled around and M was STILL playing. Six hours in a turbo tourney is pretty fucking praise-worthy.
Anyway, I strolled around the different ballrooms (I believe 12 of them were seeing action), checking out my favorite players... checking out the gorgeous men... then heading back to the room where M was competing.
I walked into the enormous room and was startled by the sight. The room was completely empty except for a single corner... 1/6 of the room. There were only 20 tables left of people playing, and M was one of them.
As I took my place in front of the cord that held us plebeians apart from the poker rockstars, I locked my sight on M's baseball cap. I then proceeded look at the people in the remaining tables. Not even five seconds into my scan, I saw M stand up.
Oh God no...
I thought perhaps he had pulled a huge move... and he was so excited he was standing... or maybe he had a cramp... but then he started walking towards me.
N-ohhhh!
I remained silent only because there was a large number of spectators... but my heart broke the moment M made eye contact with me.
He busted out 200th, with pocket aces (as in, he had a pair of aces). He went all in, and would have quadrupled up, but the chip leader at the table scored a straight on the flop (first three of five cards drawn).
That felt like shit, I can't imagine how much that's amplified for M.
I'm still bummed out about it, and I didn't spend a single dime today, OR waste six hours sitting in a chair lying my ass off.
On our drive to the Rio we discussed ugly hands. Verbatim, I said "Pocket Aces... NEVER TRUST pocket aces. Don't go all in with that shit." I then told him the story of how I got so black-out drunk the winter of '09 in Mexico, where I played tequila-shot poker, and lost an 8-shot bet because I was an idiot who trusted pocket aces.
My psychic vibe is out of control.
(Off topic, sort of, but a little in line with the psychic vibe: this weekend M and I chatted like we did back in '08, the height of our friendship. We were talking up a fucking storm... like literally two besties. He let me in on a secret of one of our mutual friends... well, technically it involves three of our mutual friends. I always knew something was fishy between one of our dude friends and one of our female friends... and today I found out that they were indeed fucking, all behind the back of the dude's girlfriend... who is friends with ALL OF US. I may have mentioned my suspicions last year, when I hung out with all the young kids from the bay, and I mentioned how one of the chicks was definitely in love with one of the coupled dudes. THEN we spent the rest of tonight rummaging through M's ex-girlfriend's page. AND he said what I had been saying all of 2010: "What the fuck did I see in her? Now that I look at her... she's... ugly... What the hell was wrong with me, AnoMALIE?" I would have cried over this maybe a year ago... but now? It made me laugh... not at the expense of the ex, but at M... and my own luck. Fucking wack how time validates me... when it's too late for anything. This is how my entire life is going to be spent, I'm sure... might as well get a fucking sense of humor about it... can't be fucking crying all the damn time)
Today was spent running around the Rio... rooting for people.
Everything was fun... the thought of the endless possibilities had me buzzing with excitement.
I saw all but ONE of my poker favorites... yeah, I have those. After all these years of distancing myself from the poker world, I realized I'm still completely enthralled by this skill... and the people who excel at it.
The dudes are still hot as fuck, and the girls are still intimidating as fuck.
Anyway, I spent my morning at the Rio, but left at noon to hit the gym. It was the worst hour I've had in a while. I kept checking my phone, dreading a text from M telling me he had busted out of the tournament.
But no... it was so fucking exciting... because he'd send me updates on how low his stack was running, and I'd calm him down... and when he'd triple up, I'd keep him level headed so he'd avoid pulling overconfident moves.
After gym time was completed, I went home and washed up as soon as possible... just to head back out to the Rio to catch more of the action.
I was STILL so overjoyed by the fact that 6 in the afternoon had rolled around and M was STILL playing. Six hours in a turbo tourney is pretty fucking praise-worthy.
Anyway, I strolled around the different ballrooms (I believe 12 of them were seeing action), checking out my favorite players... checking out the gorgeous men... then heading back to the room where M was competing.
I walked into the enormous room and was startled by the sight. The room was completely empty except for a single corner... 1/6 of the room. There were only 20 tables left of people playing, and M was one of them.
As I took my place in front of the cord that held us plebeians apart from the poker rockstars, I locked my sight on M's baseball cap. I then proceeded look at the people in the remaining tables. Not even five seconds into my scan, I saw M stand up.
Oh God no...
I thought perhaps he had pulled a huge move... and he was so excited he was standing... or maybe he had a cramp... but then he started walking towards me.
N-ohhhh!
I remained silent only because there was a large number of spectators... but my heart broke the moment M made eye contact with me.
He busted out 200th, with pocket aces (as in, he had a pair of aces). He went all in, and would have quadrupled up, but the chip leader at the table scored a straight on the flop (first three of five cards drawn).
That felt like shit, I can't imagine how much that's amplified for M.
I'm still bummed out about it, and I didn't spend a single dime today, OR waste six hours sitting in a chair lying my ass off.
On our drive to the Rio we discussed ugly hands. Verbatim, I said "Pocket Aces... NEVER TRUST pocket aces. Don't go all in with that shit." I then told him the story of how I got so black-out drunk the winter of '09 in Mexico, where I played tequila-shot poker, and lost an 8-shot bet because I was an idiot who trusted pocket aces.
My psychic vibe is out of control.
(Off topic, sort of, but a little in line with the psychic vibe: this weekend M and I chatted like we did back in '08, the height of our friendship. We were talking up a fucking storm... like literally two besties. He let me in on a secret of one of our mutual friends... well, technically it involves three of our mutual friends. I always knew something was fishy between one of our dude friends and one of our female friends... and today I found out that they were indeed fucking, all behind the back of the dude's girlfriend... who is friends with ALL OF US. I may have mentioned my suspicions last year, when I hung out with all the young kids from the bay, and I mentioned how one of the chicks was definitely in love with one of the coupled dudes. THEN we spent the rest of tonight rummaging through M's ex-girlfriend's page. AND he said what I had been saying all of 2010: "What the fuck did I see in her? Now that I look at her... she's... ugly... What the hell was wrong with me, AnoMALIE?" I would have cried over this maybe a year ago... but now? It made me laugh... not at the expense of the ex, but at M... and my own luck. Fucking wack how time validates me... when it's too late for anything. This is how my entire life is going to be spent, I'm sure... might as well get a fucking sense of humor about it... can't be fucking crying all the damn time)
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