NEVER trust aces

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)

P-p-p-poker

MGH and I bonded over weird shit.
We were decent friends throughout our lives, but being that I was four years older than him, I always treated him like a snotty little brother.
Then, at 18, he went all fucking Kafka on us and metamorphosed into some handsome man-child (Ok, so it's a little opposite of what really happens in the Metamorphosis). His transformation occurred in '07, and I remember thinking "Holy shit... he's... really, really cute!" But, because of the fact that I had known him since he was a diaper-wearing three year old, I felt so freakin' dirty thinking that.
Well, then came '08 and the magic of Guitar Hero... along with the magic of hard liquor every night for about two weeks... and an ultra strong bond was formed (but I will definitely never try something like that again).
One day, in the middle of taking a video game brake, my love for Texas Hold 'em came up in conversation... and that's when he started to work me-- he was going to make me great.
After about a month, he turned me into a poker shark (an internet one, since he was 18 at the time and he could only gamble on-line. Plus, my poker face SUCKS, I vasodilate easily, so that wouldn't be good).

We Bonnie and Clyde-ed the tables, and all was great.
Then Olive Oyl entered the picture and I retired from the game. I was in no mood to be MGH's partner in crime with this new bitch in the picture (bitch who doesn't understand basic algebra, much less the concepts of probability). This was also when I self-enforced my isolation from the guy, in order to recover from the heartache. Anything related to gambling was off-limits by default.

Well, I have finally reached that level where I'm fine being his friend. After various texts and phone calls, we managed to iron out the (MY) issues. Something in my heart just switched back to "friends" mode, and we're back to being besties (I had missed that. Now I'm definitely leaving that "think of him as a baby brother" switch flicked on-- for good).
Anyway, now that my heart doesn't sink each time I think of MGH, I can go about my life and do things like the good old days.
This includes poker-playing.
Back when MGH hooked up with Olive Oyl, and I did the whole banishment thing, I withdrew all the money I had made at the poker site... so I wouldn't be tempted to play. So yesterday, when I felt like playing, I had to get into the freerolls and work my way up in order to make some sort of money.
It was 12:30 AM, I was practicing makeup techniques AND taking my second practice GRE exam, and I though "Fuck, I'm bored... let's see what's up at the Omaha Hi tables." I entered a $150 freeroll with 7.5k others... and somehow, I got lucky.
The hours passed... and I kept kicking ass and wiping out two, sometimes three players at a time. Problem with this was that I was in the tournament until 5:30 in the morning... when I finally lost at 9th place because I was too tired to give a shit and went all in with a stupid hand. Ninth out of 7,500 donkeys. Kind of nice.

So uh... it appears I'm reverting to my insomniac, poker-playing ways.

Hopefully I don't pass out while at the club with the bridal party tonight (these girls... I love them, but shit! They know nothing about bachelorette parties. Going to the same fucking club, doing jack shiiit... and I'm forced to join due to being one of only three cousins the bride has in town. This is when I wish I really did have a poker face to go with my game).