It was a my husband just downloaded a bunch of episodes of Long Way Down and has started watching them while I'm playing a game kind of way.
Dear poker gods, I am very sorry, but Ewan + Charley + motorcycles + Africa > poker. And thank you for understanding this and not conspiring to make me lose more than I did.
Chin up, babes.
I'm off early today due to re-scheduling the Grade 8's for their drama presentation.
I don't have to teach the grade 8's today (see above).
My paycheque has about $200 more than it normally does thanks to a Pension Plan overpayment.
My new insoles have eased that nasty pain in the arch of my right foot. Thank you, Dr. Scholl.
I get to have a girlie pajama party on the weekend downtown with my two best buds. Don't doubt that dial-a-shots will ensue. Edit: Note to Tuckfards (and any others) - I can't Dial-A-Shot you if I don't have your number, so email it to me if you'd like to aid me in supporting Telus Mobility.
I didn't suck too badly last night in my close-but-no-cigar BBToo quest, busting when my slick fell to PokerEnthusiast's TT. I'm even happier about my not sucking too badly when it's taken into account I was watching Alien Resurrection at the same time.
A week from today, from right now, I'll be on my way to Vegas, and Hunny Bunny is coming with me.
I have another to add. DO NOT set a professional bartender loose to create a cocktail for you unless you are prepared to face the consequences. I did, and the bartender at the MGM Sportsbook made me raspberry martinis in 4 different ways, each more creative and lethal than the last. The end result was a nifty bar tab, a stellar hangover and this moniker from Pauly:
There's lots of plans going around, but the best one I've seen is this from Otis:
Play poker during the day. Have fun at night.Simple. Classic. Flexible. Purrfect.
I made lots of plans during my first WPBT gathering. I didn't know what to expect, and I wanted to make sure I met everyone and did everything. I even downloaded all the spreadsheets and schedules into my PDA. I tried to keep up with everything.
The result: $124 cell bill (fucking Canadian roaming charges for text messages!), a slightly panicked am-I-missing-something feeling, and the knowledge that the best times just kind of happened.
I took a much more relaxed approach to the last one I attended, and even while nursing a killer koff while surrounded by smokers, I enjoyed it much more. I'm looking forward to the fun, like I can't begin to tell you.
It'll be BIG FUN.
And while I haven't made any concrete plans, Hunny Bunny has. He wanted to have something to do on Saturday while we degenerates play poker (couldn't convince him to play, alas), so he's rented one of these for the day.
Am I jealous? You betcha.
To those who read me via bloglines, yes, I usually know that a Kings over Sevens boat beats a Sevens over Twos boat. I got caught up in the creative process, and had a brain fart. Jules and Bayne pointed it out (thanks!), and I corrected it.
Now stop bugging me, Waffles.
Instead I worked on some Christmas presents for family (I took the Handmade Pledge for family gifts this year), and watched The Women filmed in 1939. I love old movies from this time period, and still can't quite believe I've never seen this one about friends, enemies, and gossip. The clothes are dated, but the themes are certainly long-lasting. The whole cast is women...not a man to be seen which amuses me as the whole story seems to revolve around men.
Tonight there are two games running; the Bodog Blogger game that I can't get into since I'm Canadian (booo Bodog!) and the Monkey game which is where I'll be heading. Formerly the weekly WWdN, the Monkey game is like the Friday Night Blogger game for me - fun.
Jules arrived safely on Sunday and we got to chat for a little bit as we hit the Swiss Chalet (you know the holidays are here when it's time for the Festive Special) before dropping her off. I'm glad to see her, even though the reason for her having to come is a sad one.
We're planning on getting together with the Martini Goddess on Saturday for a girls night. I'm so happy that the next two weekends are earmarked for nothing other than adult fun. Coz like I mentioned to Gracie in the girlie chat, we all need some BIG FUN now and again, and it's been a tad too long.
Last night's donkament had the usual financial outcome, but was +EV for big fun. As well as the usual faces we had a whole bunch o Canucks with some of the Tuckfards, Pokertart and Astin donking it up. Hey, even the Rooster joined our silliness :-)
I blew a nice lead during the rebuy period and played the rest of game a bit of a shortie, but still managed to last until 8th. No money, but still an accomplishment in my book. Congrats to NutzCarson, Pokertart and Gdogg for being in da money.
You may have noticed a slight change in the look of this here blog. There's a long boring story, but the short story is I'm a doofus who overwrote the template file by mistake, and no, I had no backups. And yes, I do work to teach a whole group of people how to manage, store and back up their data effectively.
Full Tilt, 9:00 PM EST
$1 + $1, unlimited rebuys + one add-on, NLHE
Saturdays with Dr. Pauly
PokerStars, 4:20 PM EST
$10 + $1, Pot Limit Omaha
Australia. Land of kangaroos, koala's and didgeridoos. But more importantly, it's the land of both Aussie Millions and my best pal, the Loud one. Since she moved down under, I'd been trying to bet my butt down there, but the cost is a tad prohibitive for me. But thanks to the wonderful Al and the cool cats at Full Tilt Poker, here I am combining my obsession with poker and a visit with my partner-in-crime. Being here is Oz is definitely a dream come true.
And it's been great hanging out with her and Graham, letting them show off their city to Hunny Bunny and I, and catching up over dinner and drinks. The long conversations only highlight how much I miss her being around.
But today is all about poker, the main reason for Full Tilt sending us down here. Getting ready was a blur; all I know is that now I'm at the entrance to casino, clad in Full Tilt swag with Hunny Bunny holding my hand to calm me down.
Every time I walk across a casino floor, my adrenaline ramps up. I guess that's true of everyone, really. There's something about the happy jangling of the slots and the flashing lights that's engineered to excite us along with the almost tangible scent of money and hope in the air to entice us.
But this....man, this was like mainlining caffeine. I think I started to vibrate even before the plane touched down, and now as I walked through the Crown Casino to get to the Las Vegas Poker Room registration area it was hitting epic proportions. Like the time I ate a half pound of chocolate-covered espresso beans, my heart was pounding and my thoughts were darting around like a hummingbird on speed. And my hands were shaking so badly I briefly wondered how I was going to even sign my name. Maybe they would accept an X instead.
Standing in the line to get my seat assignment didn't help. I tried to mimic everyone else's bored/vacant calm, but I was as jangly as the slot machines. Poker permutations and card combinations kept running through my head along with the constant mantra of "holy crap, I'm at the Aussie Millions". I was so deep in my own thoughts I didn't see Pauly and Change100 until they were right beside me, grabbing my ass like it's a secret blogger handshake. (Oh wait. It is.)
I jumped; Change100 laughed and gave me a hug while Pauly just gave me that crooked smile and said, "Relax. This is fun, remember?"
“Fun.” And even though my palms are sweating, my heart's racing and I feel faintly nauseous this is fun. “Man, I am one sick puppy”, I say, laughing and give them another hug.
Finally I get my table assignment, and wander around trying to find my table while trying to look cool and composed. I give up, and ask where table 42 is. I hear the quaver in my voice and give up on cool and composed. It's like being subtle...I just can't pull it off.
I'm the last to be seated at the table. I say a brief hello, tuck my purse between my feet and hand the dealer my card. I take a deep breath and look at my table mates. All are men, and there are a lot of Full Tilt triangles at this table. Two of the men I sort of recognize from somewhere or other, and one I utterly recognize – Chris “Jesus” Ferguson.
I think it took me two orbits to get the stars out of my eyes, to relax and enjoy myself. I settled in to the rhythm of the game, giving myself little pep talks and playing my game.
Frankly, it was pretty much a blur. I made steady gains with only minimal losses. In retrospect I'll feel that I played too tight and that I should have ramped up the aggression on a few hands, but then again, hindsight is always 20/20.
But now it's the final table bubble. Somehow I have managed to last to this point where everyone has tightened up to the point where they don't talk anymore, they squeak. I have to admit though, I'm as clenched as the rest. I'm not the shortstack at the table, but I'm not breathing easy either. Luckily the blinds had just moved past me when they went up, but the blind raise has made me even more uncomfortable with my M, and know I need to make a move soon.
The cards are shuffled and deals them out. I've got the button and I'm really hoping there's something playable here. I've been opening up my play a bit in late position and am poised for a steal. I cup my hands over my cards and hunch over and see.....a 7 of hearts and a 2 of diamonds. Oh, hell no. I'm not opening it up that much, for crissakes!
Fold fold fold.... everyone folds in front of me. I place my hand over my cards to slide them over to the dealer too, but some impulse make me say "all in" and push my chips out instead of my cards. Holy hades, what the hell did I do that for??? The left side of my brain is going apeshit, while the right side is smiling ever so slightly. I'm striving for my impassive teacher face, hoping that none of this shows.
Small blind pauses, looks at his cards again, then folds. Phew.
The Full Tilt pro, Chris "Jesus" Ferguson, is in the big blind and pauses too long. It's starting to look like my internal prayer of FOLD will not be answered. I'm doomed. Even worse, I'm setting myself up to be mocked and derided by everyone in poker. Well almost everyone; poker bloggers will get it. They'll still mock me, but they'll get it.
I see him look at me out of the corner of my eye, but I keep staring at my chips, and say nothing.
He pauses. "I think you've got me covered. How much have you got?"
I glance over at him and put all my Katitude attitude into the smile when I say "Enough". I keep my hands folded on the rail, and nod to the dealer to count my chips (no way I could do it with my hands shaking they way they are!), and it looks like I have him beat by just over T1000.
He pauses a bit longer again. My heart is beating so fast, I'm beginning to wonder what a heart attack feels like.
“I call”, he finally says. And flips over AK spades.
Oh hell! Dominated. My only thought is how I am never going to live this down with the bloggers. But I smile as I turn over my 72 offsuit.
The table goes wild. People are already congratulating Chris, but over the din I can hear some of my blogger brethren start to sing MC Hammer's “Can't Touch This”. I look at Chris and say “Nice hand”. He just smiles and nods slightly.
I feel oddly calm as the dealer prepares to turn over the flop. There's that small moment of grace, when you've put your fate in the poker gods' hands. There's nothing more you can do, the cards will fall where the cards will fall.
The dealer slides the cards, separating them with an infinitely painful slowness.
Seven of spades.
Two of spades.
Queen of spades.
The table goes nuts. Me, I start laughing - "man, those poker gods have a very twisted sense of humour" I say.
The dealer taps the table, burns and turns a 6 of diamonds. No help there.
The pause between this and the river card seems to go on for a small lifetime. I'm silently cursing my lack of control, that one misguided impulse that's crippled me. Ah well, I think. Makes for a good story. I take a breath, preparing to say “good game” to Chris and the table.
The river card is shown... AND OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!!
THE TWO OF HEARTS!!!!!
And that is how I made the final table at Aussie Millions.
I know that Vegas Vegas is around the corner, but I like having things to look forward to, and the thing I look forward to most these days is connected with bloggers and IIF's.
So I have a few initial questions for y'all....
- Are you interested in coming to Eh-Vegas?
- When would be good? I'm thinking between Feb-April so it doesn't conflict with other blogger get-togethers.
- Where? Big home game, at the local club, Niagara Falls (option 1 is good for hanging out, options 2 and 3 are good for cash games after the tourney) or a combination thereof?
No, I've not suddenly lost my pear-shaped physique and returned to the day of long legs, lean torso and perky boobs (I wish). Rather, I'm channeling my inner teen, primarily along the thought processes......
Nothing is my fault. The world ends four feet from my body. I am flawless; it's the rest of the world that are great sucking idiots. I mean seriously, can't you all see how fabulous and clever I am? I deserve so much more. You should reward me just for gracing you with my presence. How dare you even suggest otherwise?But I'm an adult now (?), these thoughts are now running along a pokery vein....
My losses are not my fault. The poker world should end four feet from my body. I am a flawless player; it's the rest of the online Full Tilt world that are great sucking idiots. I mean seriously, can't you all see how fabulously and cleverly I played that last hand? I deserve so much more than a bubble (again). You should reward me just for gracing you with my presence. How dare you even suggest otherwise?As I say to my students, someone needs a big healthy dose of get-over-yourself.
This reality check has been brought about by Drizz's last post (Who's the real Donkey?) where he has this great quote:
A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame someone else.Well call me a failure, as I haven't been blaming myself for any of my crappy performance on the felt for months. This is quite funny, because I've been blaming myself for all kinds of stuff that really is beyond my control.
-- John Burroughs
(SIDENOTE: My mind is truly a messy and confusing place. I blame the drugs in the 80's. And if I knew then what I know now...I'd still do 'em.)
On to other topics, thanks to all for the comments, IM's, emails and calls. It's been a rough week and it's this kinda stuff that pulls me out of bed in the morning.
Especially number three. And it's been ages since I had an onion sandwich - Thane, it's much better with the addition of some good, old cheddar *grin.
I spent the weekend indulging in steak, chocolate pie and martinis at the Martini Goddess' house. The weather was gorgeous for November, and it was a good time.
I'll be very honest here, and say that I'm forcing myself to write. And it sounds like it.
The last few weeks have been meh, with lots of little things piling up to make me look long and hard at what I need to do to be a good friend, a good wife, a good sister/niece/aunt/cousin, a good teacher, a good human. And when I say good, I don't mean good as in angelic (as if I could pull that off!), I mean good as in engaged and caring. I feel like I am wildly missing the mark on all of the above.
I've been trying to get out from under these heavy thoughts. The success has been limited, although the black currant martini and the conversation of the weekend helped immensely.
But today I am filled with sadness and more than just a little smattering of guilt. When we got home last night there was a voicemail to call my cousins as soon as possible. Before I even started dialing their number, I knew.
My Aunt Eleanor passed away on Saturday.
She was the last relative of my Dad's generation; so many things I still wanted to ask her and stories I still wanted to hear - all lost now. And her mannerisms were so much like my Dad's, I feel like I've lost him all over again.
I'm taking a few days off for relief of both life and poker tilt. Hope to be back for the Mookie.
On the one hand, it's a small minor thing, an update (a very small correction to her degree designation) on the school's website that I do as a side contract, totally NOT part of what I do at the school.
On the other hand..... I really fucking hate this kind of back-stabbing bullshit. It irks me immensely.
I fixed it, but now do I...
- email the principals with the facts?
- confront her with a calendar so she knows the difference between September 5th and October 26th?
- advise her tactfully that she has used her only "get out of jail free" card, and perhaps in future she may want to rethink this kind of shit?
- let it go?
- let it go, but send them an invoice for the minimum charge?
- let it go, but bitch and moan about it in my blog until I'm suitably vented?
I don't remember my Great Uncle Will at all, as he did not come back from WWI. But my dad would tell stories.
I remember my Uncle Grant (left) and my Dad. Both were in the RCAF during WWII; my uncle flew in the European theatre, and my dad was a flight instructor, training new pilots in Manitoba.
Who do you remember?
Last night's Blogger Donkament was hella fun. A record breaking night of 35 donkeys, 251 rebuys (!) and 25 add-ons. I went out in 25th when the 3 martinis whispered in my ear and told me no, the rebuy period wasn't over yet. Damn those lying martinis.
And congrats to cracknaces for winning it. Welcome to Donkey Land; your permanent residency card is in the mail.
and inspired by something on_thg said:
And yes, I know that LOLcats are like, so five minutes ago, but I find them funny.
Well, I see that after my abysmal donkey-moron-retard play last night I've only dropped 4 points on the leaderboard.
I'm fairly pleased that the results of jinxing myself wasn't worse. And hey, I'm still ahead of Fuel *grin.
And don't forget, tonight is donkey night. Come join the rebuy madness (Full Tilt, 9pm est, pw = donkarama); as usual I plan on going all in the first five hands. Minimum.
Thank you to Surflexus and Instant Tragedy for the chat last night. Y'all know why.
I'm at the stage of the BBToo where, in the BBT orginale, I looked at my lack of progress, looked at the far btter MTT players who were succeeding, looked at how the ramped up competition was sucking the fun out of it for me, and looked at the amount of $ I was spending to try and compete in a place where I was not succeeding. And in the first BBT, I bailed.
But this time, ah this time. AlCantHang went above and beyond on this one. I WANT this in a way I didn't want the first BBT. I'm a slightly better player, my confidence is (usually) greater, and I have an extra reason to visit down under than you lot: The Loud One.
You have no idea how much it utterly sucks to be stuck in the doldrums when your partner-in-crime and BFF lives halfway around the fucking world. The Fuck x 24 post could have been avoided with the pre-emptive strike of a good bitch session over dinner and a few good cocktails. And maybe a manicure thrown in for good measure.
So I've been thinking of bailing on the BBToo. The cash I'm dumping on it would enable me to have more fun in Vegas, and let's be real here, are my MTT skills really up to the task?
But then I looked at the leaderboard, I mean really looked at it. As of today I am in 14th place. Yes I've only ITM-ed once for $16.80, but I'm higher in points than others who have ITM-ed a few times. I'm the highest ranking poker chick ATM, followed by Gracie in 26th.
Fuck bailing. I want this. I can do this. I might not win TOC seat, and if I do, I likely won't win the Big Seat, but fuck it, I'm going to play and see where it takes me.
Now does anyone have a copy of Harrington's Volume II on late stage tournament play I can borrow?
Yeah talk about jinxing yourself.
I posted the above as the Riverchasers was starting. And I'm out by 9:20. Totally misplayed a hand with Daddy, and basically gave him 2/3 of my stack to his well played set. Lost the rest to some donk when he thought that'd be pretty damn cool to call my allin with 74 s00ted.
I think I shoulda stayed in the bubble bath.
And not just because of my fear of flying.
I cannot wait for Vegas.
Those five words are so lame in their capacity to describe my level of anticipation.
There's the anticipation of meeting new people, people I've chatted with on the girlie chat and traded comments with. I'm finding it oddly funny that I will be meeting Pokertart, Mr. Bankwell, Bam Bam and Pebbles for the first time while in Vegas when they are all within an hour's drive of me. Well, I won't be meeting PokerTart for the first time.... as with Astin, I'd met her in the early days of my geekdom and lost track. A small world indeed.
And then there's the anticipation of introducing my IIFs to my beloved Hunny Bunny and of introducing him to them. Well not so much anticipation as low-level fear, really. I've heard from too many that they can't wait to meet the guy that puts up with me. One even said I must be brave to be bringing him. Brave, stupid, it's a fine line *grin.
Oh and to hang with the Okie-Vegas crew again! GCox and Mrs GCox, Gracie, Maudie, Sean, Jordan, Yestbay....if only Ski and Surf would come. Weenies.
I'm looking over the list that Falstaff has posted and my breathing quickens thinking of having a shot with Al, Iggy, Pauly and Derek. And my breathing quickens a LOT thinking of Falstaff in a kilt...two words...hubba and hubba. I do like men in kilts; something about how the kilt swirls as they walk.
But I digress.
Oh and let's not forget sweet, sweet Pablo! Or Irish Jim crossing the pond for the game (hear that BritBloggers? Get the lead out!). And I can't wait to see Waffles drunkenly wax poetic about something or other, likely about the lovely Carmen.
Goddammit, I can't look at the attendee list anymore. Twenty-eight days is too long to wait. The lion's share of the 73 people on the list are people that I wish I lived closer to, so I could see them more often.
Man, I cannot wait for the 6th. To walk to the Geisha Bar in the Imperial Palace and see all my friends there, drinking and laughing and talking. Truly, a degenerate's version of heaven.
- Fuck organic bread that goes moldy after two days.
- Fuck poker and the horse it rode in on.
- Fuck November and the end of the motorcycling season.
- Fuck parents who claim I don't know their child at all, even though I interact with her more in a week than they do.
- Fuck paperwork.
- Fuck shoes that make your feet smell after only two hours, no matter what spray or insoles you use.
- Fuck NaNoWriMo. I have too much pressure this month as it is.
- Fuck bad Chinese food that gives you indigestion for three days.
- Fuck people who let their dogs shit in children's playgrounds and don't pick it up (seriously...WTF!?!).
- Fuck dashed hopes.
- Fuck sports bras that don't do what they're supposed to, leading to discomfort after every workout.
- Fuck workouts.
- Fuck knitting patterns that require you to invest in $30 worth of different needles (circular x 3 sizes, double-pointed x 2 sizes).
- Fuck expensive nailpolish that chips after two days.
- Fuck people who borrow books and dvds, and never return them.
- Fuck having wrinkles AND pimples at the same time.
- Fuck bad customer service.
- Fuck Dell.
- Fuck spam.
- Fuck pretty people who think that that's enough.
- Fuck being alone for six weeks.
- Fuck Splenda. No, it doesn't taste just like sugar.
- Fuck perky. Yeah, I mean you. Dial it back, wouldja?
- Fuck it.
Yeah, it's been a bad day. See you at the Mookie.
I'm at a $1/2 NLHE $100 max table and it's around 1:30 pm. I've been there since noon, and cannot catch a break. I've folded perfectly good hands because there is no respect here for any raises, and even less for mine. I am the lone woman at a table of ten, all are younger than me and look to fall between the ages of 20 and 40.
Except for one person, they are all playing by instinct. I think. They are calling and over-reaching, but miracle cards are hitting most of the time, and the three worst offenders are congratulating themselves that they are better at poker than the rest of us.
I've dropped a buyin already, and am $25 into my second. Some of it is bad play on their parts, the rest is bad play on my part when I got caught up in the "if you can't beat them, join them" mentality.
I'm in late position and see red aces. Two people have called, there are no raises. I raise to $15. This is an overbet for preflop on this table, but I want everyone out of the pool. Everyone folds except SB who raises to $40. This guy has played garbage, but I am wary of his luckbox capability. Fuck it I say, and push out the rest of my chips.
And turns over 5 2 offsuit.
OF COURSE he wins with it. Even though there's an ace on the flop. He hits a four flush. With the two of
"I had a feeling," he laughs as he starts stacking the chips. Two of the players look at me and shake their heads. "So ugly," one says. "That's just dirty," the other says. They start to berate the winner for being stupid; "ssshhhhhh, don't tap on the glass" I say.
I remember Okie Vegas and how I took out Maudie and can only smile. "Happens to the best of us."
At this point, do you:
- Pull out another hunnert, and stay at the table.
- Tell the dealer to hold your seat and go stomp around for a few minutes.
- Grab your stuff, give up your seat and get outside to walk around the Falls, have lunch, people watch, and otherwise kill time until the bus home.
- Grab your stuff, give up your seat and get outside to walk around the Falls, have lunch and calm down, rethink your strategy, and go back renewed and ready to kick ass.
After 10 minutes standing at the edge of the Horseshoe Falls watching a few million gallons of water slip over the brink, I went and treated myself to a nice lunch and some time people-watching and taking notes for my NaNoWriMo efforts.
Once I'd lost the tilt and regained my sense of humour, I went back and put my name back on the list for $1/2. They had a spot open at the only limit table they were running so I slid in until a NLHE space came up.
I know it's a different game, especially at $2/5. Man, I thought the 1/2 talbe was filled with calling stations. It had nothing on this level of donkery. I was there for an hour, and the gentleman to my left was in every single hand. Every one. And chased to the turn just about every time. Yeesh. But it was definitely a good exercise on patiently waiting for the good cards. I played four hands in the hour and left the table up $50.
Oh joy. The same 1/2 table, and Mr 52 off is still here. And here I played well. I played a flopped nut flush so perfectly, I milked two players out of $75 each. After that, my raises got noticed, and I was able to get away with some steals.
The best hand was against Mr. 52. I had A9 Spades, and was first to bet in middle position, I bet $17 (the raise of choice for the table now it seemed), everyone folded except Mr 52 in BB, he just called. The flop came 9 clubs, 7 spades, 3 spades. He checked, I bet 40, he re-raised me allin. (Sidenote: I hate being on the receiving end of a check-raise.) I waited for a second thinking of the set he could have, the draws, etc...... then I called him anyway with only TPTK.
Have you ever had one of those hands where you just KNOW you've got it, that you're going to catch the right card?
He flipped over 9 diamonds and 7 of hearts and said "I have two pair" as the dealer was turning over the turn card. I knew before I saw it that it'd be an ace.
"I have two pair now too," I said with a huge grin. The look on his face was priceless. He started to tilt and foam at the mouth until I used my best teacher voice to remind him about AA vs 52.
Revenge live is as sweet as the online version.
So with that hand, I got unstuck for the day (I donked off a bit later, but was only down about $10 overall, rather than $200), but better yet, got some payback.
- I bit my nails constantly until I hit grade 10. Then I stopped. I have no idea why.
- I used to play on baseball team of the bar I worked at. For two summers I got stuck way out in the outfield after catching a pop fly in a stunningly awesome fashion. I caught it in the stunningly awesome fashion because it looked like it was going to hit my beer. I also played an entire game not knowing I had two broken toes. I broke the toes while running for the ball, realizing I was going to knock over my beer, jumping over said beer and landing badly. I didn't know the toes were broken until much later when a) I had to take my running shoes off later that night and b) I sobered up.
- I caught mono when I was in grade 9 and was off school for 5 weeks. I caught it by kissing this hot guy at a party.
- When I was 5, my dad decided to teach me to swim by throwing me in the pool. For 2 years after that I would only sit on the edge with my feet in the water, and would take them out and move back if anyone went too close behind me.
- I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would voluntarily eat oysters. I did try them once ... I really don't get it.
- I can't eat cold cereal in the morning; it makes me nauseous.
- The first album I ever bought with my own money was the Talking Heads' More Songs About Buildings and Food. The first cd I bought was Vivaldi's Four Seasons.
Would any of you care to join me on the weekend for some live pokery goodness? Rama or Fallsview, Saturday or Sunday, doesn't matter to me. Email me at badkatitude at gmail dot com.
Live poker beckons.
- Presto is not gold. In fact, it is quite the opposite.
- JJ is ok indeed.
- AA is not.
- Those who donk off a massive, huge lead are really no better than the donks they mock on a regular basis. So stop throwing stones from your glass house.
Congrats to Mowenumdown for final tabling the 24k tonight.....nicely done!