The past two days have been Dude Central at my place. My brother drove up from Racine on Tuesday and that night him, myself, and wwhazz played in the aforementioned poker tourney.
This week was ok, not great. Wwhazz busted out first (he was feeling ‘fuzzy’) and my brother lasted until right after the second break. I went out 16th, just after we broke down to two tables. When we hit four tables, I was chip leader at the table, but from four to two tables my stack stayed exactly the same while everyone else built up mountains of chips. This resulted in me running some plays to try to pick up blinds (not all at once or anything, maybe two plays in 45 minutes). Both times I did it, the blinds woke up with AK and pocket pair, respectively. At the time we hit two tables, I had horrible table image due to no quality showdowns + the bad plays that I had to give up on. So, with the 1000-2000 blinds about to hit me and a stack of ~6500 chips I just pushed with K8 and got called by TT. Say lah vee.
I ventured upon my brother and wwhazz playing the 1-2 NL game. My first hand: KK. I took some money from wwhazz with his AQ, but the rest of the table showed me respect. A couple of hands later I raised it up with JJ (not nearly enough though) and pushed ($65-ish) on the T83 flop. One dude called with his 8T offsuit that he called my raise with, and my bro called with nut flush draw. Brother rivered the flush; good for him. That was it for me. Wwhazz was begging me for booze $$ by the end.
My bro and me also played two rounds of golf: nine holes at university Ridge on Wednesday morning and 18 at Odana Hills this morning (Thursday). Yesterday was pretty fun; even when you’re sucking hind tit at the Ridge, at least it’s beautiful. I beat my brother pretty soundly, but he was having a really off day. We went out later and got him his early birthday present: a fancy new driver… which he used to whip the holy living fuck out of me on the golf course this morning. I four-putted the first hole, and then flung my putter about 100 yards towards the next tee box. I proceeded to play the worst round of my life, yet at some point in the middle I made eagle on a 460 yard par 5. By the back nine I was in a bad mood again, and lost 6 balls on the 15th hole, Joe Pesci-style (“Hit me. [face card] Fuck you. Hit me. [face card] Take that fucking card, and shove it up your ass. Hit me. [face card]”). I feel kinda foolish for acting a fool, but whatever, I fucking four-putted. Ride or die.
This weekend is All Crazy, All The Time. The Sausage Rage is Saturday, and I wouldn’t be surprised if our award for finishing is an ice-pick in the balls. Anything To Fuck You Over: that’s the Milwaukee Brewer’s promotional model. I guess we should have guessed that they wouldn’t take success that well. I mean, they’ve got groups-of-twenty-five-or-more tickets to sell, why should they give a fuck about the people who were buying the tickets and going to the sausage race when only 2000 hobos attended a weekday game?
Sunday my family is going to the game since my dad got the company tickets. I’ll hollar and yell at Barry Bonds for all of you. Afterwards is a family pic-a-nic. Should be fun, whazzmaster.com. HOLLLLARIT.