Finishing your laundry (or half of it) feels quite excellent. It's like you've actually accomplished something grand. It is completely irrelevant that it is necessary for every day--or perhaps that's part of it; sustaining your own life. There's a small feeling of power a fellow gets from that, and any bit of power I can gather to myself at this point is welcome--hell, I'll pay it to come.
It's lunch time and my roommate Fred isn't here, but Ben Folds is blaring from his computer. He came back to turn it off, but I said "No, whore. Leave it." And he did. His taste in music generally puts mine to shame, and Ben Folds has really grown on me since I first moved here. He's really a lot of fun to listen to--I just caught myself bah-bah-bahing to the horn section of one of his songs about five seconds ago. It is quite excellent. Or for the sake of not repeating phrases in the same blog, quite kickass. Ben Folds gets a spot on my list, though. He gets it somewhere around where The Darkness and The Strokes are living, cause damn he's fun. Oh, and I also want The Mars Volta and/or At the Drive-in. Now. I'm going to ask my parents for some of that shaz. As well as any other bands I can think of.
Oh, and guess what else kicks ass while also sucking said ass? Well, yesterday was another round of the College Poker Championships. At my low point, I had 15 chips (we had started with 1,000). The hand after I was knocked down to 15, I was automatically all-inned since I was big-blind (which was normally 20 chips). I won that hand with something like 7-4 offsuit. Next three hands I also won--with better hole cards, of course--, and I got back to about 800 chips. Then I won another big hand and went to 1,925. After that I did a whole lot of fluctuating, a whole lot of clinging. In the end, I wound up in 20th place out of 2,147 entrants and I won $4.50. The bad news? Dear Eric was there. I remember going to his table after I had managed to knock myself down to less than 1,000 again after my 15 chip episode, He had something over 9,000 chips. We talked and laughed with each other; we were feeling great. I wasn't really counting too much on making it much further, but Eric had the stuff to kill everyone.
Poker is, unfortunately, much too much luck. Eric was sitting to he right of this maniacal raiser who essentially made it impossible for ol' Erico to do much of anything, and he missed pot after pot and stagnated. Thankfully, Eric was moved before the damage became excessive, and freakishly enough, I wound up at the same table as he. By this time, the amount of people left in the tournament was being winnowed down. It was getting to around 250. The top 215 would qualify for the next round of the tournament which is going to happen in a few months or so. Eric went all-in somewhere--I wish I remember his hole cards. But the tragic part, ladies and gentlemen, is that he bit the bullet on that hand. He got 216th place in the tournament. Quite a cruel fate for a fellow who had been so dominant before, who as I recall had at least one other episode where he was doing well before getting suddenly and painfully shot down.
I did well after that, and Eric stayed for a while and cheered me on. He even called me a dumbass when I went all-in on a pair of nines with a four kicker. I would have lost that hand if it weren't for the river which came up as another nine. Lady Luck was watching me through my trials and tribulations, I guess.
So now I'm in. Eric isn't. And the $4.50 I won? I managed to burn it all stupidly again. Bad beats at small-money tables lead you to put in all you've got to try to get revenge. Not a good strategy, sadly. So that's $9.20 I've won at tournaments so far that has been senselessly squandered. Alas, I am learning.
Oh, and there's this girl. Wait--I'd better stop there. But I will tell you that she's quite awesome--hell, she's quite excellent, for risk of repeating a phrase. But I dare not say more. Because I'm a dick. Don't worry, though. I fuck pussies and assholes. I'm useful. ^.^
Long live Alec Baldwin. Hasta la byebye.
It's lunch time and my roommate Fred isn't here, but Ben Folds is blaring from his computer. He came back to turn it off, but I said "No, whore. Leave it." And he did. His taste in music generally puts mine to shame, and Ben Folds has really grown on me since I first moved here. He's really a lot of fun to listen to--I just caught myself bah-bah-bahing to the horn section of one of his songs about five seconds ago. It is quite excellent. Or for the sake of not repeating phrases in the same blog, quite kickass. Ben Folds gets a spot on my list, though. He gets it somewhere around where The Darkness and The Strokes are living, cause damn he's fun. Oh, and I also want The Mars Volta and/or At the Drive-in. Now. I'm going to ask my parents for some of that shaz. As well as any other bands I can think of.
Oh, and guess what else kicks ass while also sucking said ass? Well, yesterday was another round of the College Poker Championships. At my low point, I had 15 chips (we had started with 1,000). The hand after I was knocked down to 15, I was automatically all-inned since I was big-blind (which was normally 20 chips). I won that hand with something like 7-4 offsuit. Next three hands I also won--with better hole cards, of course--, and I got back to about 800 chips. Then I won another big hand and went to 1,925. After that I did a whole lot of fluctuating, a whole lot of clinging. In the end, I wound up in 20th place out of 2,147 entrants and I won $4.50. The bad news? Dear Eric was there. I remember going to his table after I had managed to knock myself down to less than 1,000 again after my 15 chip episode, He had something over 9,000 chips. We talked and laughed with each other; we were feeling great. I wasn't really counting too much on making it much further, but Eric had the stuff to kill everyone.
Poker is, unfortunately, much too much luck. Eric was sitting to he right of this maniacal raiser who essentially made it impossible for ol' Erico to do much of anything, and he missed pot after pot and stagnated. Thankfully, Eric was moved before the damage became excessive, and freakishly enough, I wound up at the same table as he. By this time, the amount of people left in the tournament was being winnowed down. It was getting to around 250. The top 215 would qualify for the next round of the tournament which is going to happen in a few months or so. Eric went all-in somewhere--I wish I remember his hole cards. But the tragic part, ladies and gentlemen, is that he bit the bullet on that hand. He got 216th place in the tournament. Quite a cruel fate for a fellow who had been so dominant before, who as I recall had at least one other episode where he was doing well before getting suddenly and painfully shot down.
I did well after that, and Eric stayed for a while and cheered me on. He even called me a dumbass when I went all-in on a pair of nines with a four kicker. I would have lost that hand if it weren't for the river which came up as another nine. Lady Luck was watching me through my trials and tribulations, I guess.
So now I'm in. Eric isn't. And the $4.50 I won? I managed to burn it all stupidly again. Bad beats at small-money tables lead you to put in all you've got to try to get revenge. Not a good strategy, sadly. So that's $9.20 I've won at tournaments so far that has been senselessly squandered. Alas, I am learning.
Oh, and there's this girl. Wait--I'd better stop there. But I will tell you that she's quite awesome--hell, she's quite excellent, for risk of repeating a phrase. But I dare not say more. Because I'm a dick. Don't worry, though. I fuck pussies and assholes. I'm useful. ^.^
Long live Alec Baldwin. Hasta la byebye.
1 Comments:
At 22 November, 2004 13:50,
Eric said…
Let the record show that I went all in with AK, after the flop came up 6-9-A, and some ass picked up two pair on the turn with his weak A-10.
Ah, well. Good job Cantay!
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