Bounds? What Fucking Bounds?

My hubris knows no bounds. I have been flattened in poker over the last eight hours. I had the ol’ account up to $745, but it’s quite a ways down now. How, you ask? Well, you live by the sword and you die by the sword. As Wirkus said, maybe I shouldn’t have tangled with the five-handed tables, but I did anyways and for the last week was on quite a good tear. I guess I foolishly thought that it meant I had improved my play. Nope, because for the last eight hours I’ve leaked motherfucking chips like di-a-fucking-rhhea. Every time I speculate nothing hits. Every time I hit the big time, some fucker spikes a small two pair on the river to take my $80 pot. Don’t know what to say? Sorry Poker Gods? Whatever, I’m goin out for dinner and a movie.

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