Week 23 - Fri Jan 19, 2007 (Make-up game for the dreaded ICE STORM of 2007)
1st ($35/ 10pts): Margaret "*snore* "Huh? Wha? Blinds? What blinds?" Bridgeman
2nd ($0/ 7pts): Adam "Playin' Crappy Cards Like A Master" Joseph
3rd ($0 / 4pts): John "Blonde Bombshell" St. Denis
Low Stakes / 6 Players / 1 Table / 1:25 Endtime
'Twas Friday night, and only five of us were playing. Some of us were thrilled by the dually occurring circumstances of a) not having to get up terrifyingly early the next morning and b) having only five players; thus increasing the probability of an early night.
John started the evening off putting us all on tilt with his newly-peroxided hair, goatee, eyebrows, AND EYELASHES. (Seriously, nobody could make eye contact with him for like an hour.)
Table talk for the evening revolved around the usual highbrow topics: speculation as to the quality of Mick's blowjobs, the dividing line between softcore and hardcore porn (e.g. erect vs. flaccid, "bush" vs. "pink,") and the mixture of Darvocet and alcohol that Dallas had mysterious knowledge of (the "Darvorita"). Also thrown in were some references to Beckett and Pirandello to ensure that everyone knew we had attended at least one humanities class in college.
The poker action was conservative and tight; chip leads came and went with regularity. (Margaret, your morning reporter, is probably the wrong person to recount the action, as she tends not to remember anything that happens.) Salient points that she does recall include blowing an early chip lead to John when, despite a neon sign over John's head, she refused to believe that he had hit two pair. John hit two more huge hands - that are escaping me at the moment - and remained in the lead for a great deal of the game. (Sadly, as the blinds increased, his cards dried up, and the nurse-to-be was not able to staunch the bleeding.)
Dallas stuck around for a marathon dealing session as Mick, Margaret, John, and Adam shoved chips back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth some more. Mick, still in pain from the broken arm, took a much-needed pass from dealing, but stayed awake to provide increasingly loopy commentary.
When it came down to Adam and Margaret, the much-anticipated "early-ending game" was already at about 1:00 A.M., and no end was in sight. Chip stacks again slid back and forth on the table as if we were well-dressed high-rollers on the Titanic. (Ironically, the only two people at the table that DID NOT seem to be having fun were Margaret and Adam, as the other three were punch-drunk and absolutely hysterical.)
Adam played crap cards like a champ; Margaret got the cards, but was hesitant to go against Adam's juggernaut bets. Finally, it came down to Margaret's loose call on a Q-8; it was the final nail in that coffin that we were all envisioning as a more preferable destination than the poker table by that point.
2nd ($0/ 7pts): Adam "Playin' Crappy Cards Like A Master" Joseph
3rd ($0 / 4pts): John "Blonde Bombshell" St. Denis
Low Stakes / 6 Players / 1 Table / 1:25 Endtime
'Twas Friday night, and only five of us were playing. Some of us were thrilled by the dually occurring circumstances of a) not having to get up terrifyingly early the next morning and b) having only five players; thus increasing the probability of an early night.
John started the evening off putting us all on tilt with his newly-peroxided hair, goatee, eyebrows, AND EYELASHES. (Seriously, nobody could make eye contact with him for like an hour.)
Table talk for the evening revolved around the usual highbrow topics: speculation as to the quality of Mick's blowjobs, the dividing line between softcore and hardcore porn (e.g. erect vs. flaccid, "bush" vs. "pink,") and the mixture of Darvocet and alcohol that Dallas had mysterious knowledge of (the "Darvorita"). Also thrown in were some references to Beckett and Pirandello to ensure that everyone knew we had attended at least one humanities class in college.
The poker action was conservative and tight; chip leads came and went with regularity. (Margaret, your morning reporter, is probably the wrong person to recount the action, as she tends not to remember anything that happens.) Salient points that she does recall include blowing an early chip lead to John when, despite a neon sign over John's head, she refused to believe that he had hit two pair. John hit two more huge hands - that are escaping me at the moment - and remained in the lead for a great deal of the game. (Sadly, as the blinds increased, his cards dried up, and the nurse-to-be was not able to staunch the bleeding.)
Dallas stuck around for a marathon dealing session as Mick, Margaret, John, and Adam shoved chips back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth some more. Mick, still in pain from the broken arm, took a much-needed pass from dealing, but stayed awake to provide increasingly loopy commentary.
When it came down to Adam and Margaret, the much-anticipated "early-ending game" was already at about 1:00 A.M., and no end was in sight. Chip stacks again slid back and forth on the table as if we were well-dressed high-rollers on the Titanic. (Ironically, the only two people at the table that DID NOT seem to be having fun were Margaret and Adam, as the other three were punch-drunk and absolutely hysterical.)
Adam played crap cards like a champ; Margaret got the cards, but was hesitant to go against Adam's juggernaut bets. Finally, it came down to Margaret's loose call on a Q-8; it was the final nail in that coffin that we were all envisioning as a more preferable destination than the poker table by that point.
1 Comment(s):
One thing you did not mention was also that it seemed like every hand contained a Q for the better part of the night. And often the irrational play of one's QX paid off - as exemplified by the final hand.
Additionally I do feel compelled to brag on my self a bit. I'm quite proud to say that with four players left and Blinds at 1500/3000 I took what should have been a mortal wounding from Margaret B. But though I was decimated to only 5K is still managed to fight my way back to a monster chip lead. I was something like 2:1 when Margaret and I went heads-up. And that is of course when the (sewer) flood gates of 72os and the like opened onto my head.
This is to take nothing away from Margaret. You can't win without playing well!!
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