Back in the Saddle again

The holidays hit hard, and my bankroll never recovered from the beatings taken at tables therin. Call it cold cards, or accuse me of poor play, regardless of the reasons, I dropped about 700 bucks over the course of three weeks. Portions of this amount were legitimately tagged for my rent which had to be achieved largely through use of roommate extortion. I decided to take a month off, and hadnt gone near a poker table since early january. I got a call from my pseudo boss at the pokulator.com website telling me to get my shit to the Wynn so I could witness the biggest poker game in history. Apparently some texas billionare dude name of Andy something plays a conglomorate of the worlds best pros including but not limited to Todd Brunson, Jennifer Harmon, Johnny Chan, Phil Ivey and Doyle Brunson. Shits are rumored to be anteing 50 grand and 100 grand and have racks in the millions in front of them, all splitting the profits they take off the robber baron.
Shit sounded pretty sweet, so I decided I would try to check the shit out, but dude has about as much right to bark orders at me as I have the right to steal chairs from my apartment lobby. One time when we were visiting my buddy at Penn State, his shit was bragging about being in the “honors dorm” and thinkin his shit dont stink. Maybe it was the people’s rebellion that coursed through my veins that day or maybe it was the Vladimir Vodka that caused me to pass out during the michigan state game later that morning, but I was going to show these “honors dorm” fucks that their shit most certainly did stink. So I did what any rational person would do, I had me and my buddy the pilgrim each grab one of thier nice revolving comfortable chairs and escort it to an upside down position in the adjacent bushes. Two of these go getters didnt walk so proud the following monday after having to stand for the entirety of the morning meeting.
My buddy nate tried to pull some of the same shit at William and Mary, but he was far more treasonous. He took a spot in the fucking “French Dorm”. You believe that shit? He started talking all sorts of crazy anti-american shit and eating crepes all the damn time. We knew a message had to be sent, so we had a weekend intervention headed up by myself with the aide of three friends. We had earlier scouted the location for the proper message and recognized the cardboard model of the eiffel tower as their national landmark, the stage was set. After dropping nate off, we snuck inside the complex and I took off running with the papyrus based model. I planted it securely under the rear tires of my neon and before nate could break through my accomplises grasp, I had successfully ripped the shit in two with the power of american steel(or more likely aluminum in the case of my neon). As Nate screamed “What the fuck are you doing you idiot?”, I repeatedly backed over the shit, until it was just pieces of confetti underfoot. We drove away laughing, and refused to answer nates cell phone calls as he cleaned up the evidence of our crimes. He claims that there was a note on the refridgerator saying “Ou est la tour eiffel?” and that he was accused many times of being the culprit, but they never had enough evidence to convict.
What Im trying to say is, I didnt get there in time to see the game. Shits had already broke the game about an hour before, and everyone was gone. You could see the roped off section, but shit had run its course. I heard through whispers and previous accounts that there was a lot of fucking action and that unreasonable sums of money were flying around the room. People had the gross domestic products of third world nations sitting in front of them dude. I, however, only had a hundred twenty. I figured I might as well break my spell, so I sat at a 4/8 game that looked happy to have me. I shat away forty dollars on draws that never came and pairs that got upstaged, as I started throwing back washington apple shots.
By about the third shot I was down to forty dollars, and found pocket aces in middle position. I raised the shit to eight and got about 5 calls. Flop came out 6,7,8 all clubs, and both my aces were red. I thought about it and said I better fucking bet to see where Im at, which doesnt make a whole lot of sense in retrospect. I got raised by a very solid player and everyone else folded back to me. I knew I was beat, but I figured the money was right, and called to see the ace of clubs on the turn. Now I was beat by any club, but I at least had outs so I checked and called. River came seven and I bet it out getting called and revealing my riverboat winner on like a 90 dollar pot. Shit was just what the doctor ordered.
The washington apples had stormed and taken the beach, but they kept deploying ships. I was now in full on jackass mode, playing up the fact that I sucked out on my aces. My roommate Russell came over to look in on a hand when I was on the button, and I showed him 7-8 offsuit, deciding to call an unraised blind. It came 3-4-5 rainbow, so I called with three other guys when someone raised. The turn came miracle six, and I was bet into, which I raised. It got raised back at me, and I bumped and got called. The river came seven and he just called my bet, laying down his seven no kicker. I swooped a huge pot and proceed to raise like 5 of the next seven hands. On two seperate occassions I put in a live straddle and got zero calls. I bet pocket jacks strong the whole way and spiked one on the river to go from fourth to first in the hand. I flopped a flush preflop raising with queen seven spades. I hit a full house with 8-2 off suit after calling a preflop raise. The whole rush I was doing that jackass stalling thing where you say “I think Im gonna….RAISE” and splash your chips out there like some kind of showmen. I also showed two full out bluffs that got laid down to, one of them with 6-2 and no pair. Shits were furious, and I was talking the entire time. “Quit stalling buddy, this is the part where you call even though you know you’re beat then I show a winner take the pot, and you shake your head. If you’re warming up your neck muscles, so be it, otherwise quit wasting everyones time.” He calls, he’s beat, I laugh in his eye, he shakes his head. One of the guys was being perfectly nice all game, and when I was like 8 apples deep, I looked up at him and realized he was down like a hundred since I last checked. I nonchalantly looked at him and said, “Boy, you used to have a bunch more chips.” Eventually, I started giving back a bunch of what Id won, but I still cashed out up a hundred twenty two. Im back dude, Im fucking back.

Back in the Saddle again

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