It's the night before the big tourney and all through the house, things are starting to take shape. Even a mouse. That doesn't make sense, but I thought, you know, it should rhyme like that Christmas poem does. 'cause I'm all about iambic pentameter. Shit, now I'm going to have to look up iambic. Hey, I got it right.
I've got my table, Shep is bringing his custom table, Random101 is bringing his table-top and 5 additional chairs. I've got my custom ceramic BadBlood chips, Otis is bringing his clay (real) pokerchips.com chips, Falstaff is bringing both his ceramic Nevada Jacks and NexGen chips.
Most importantly, MrsBlood is cooking her custom meatballs and baking her custom chocolate chip cookies.
Better yet, I've got 100 proof SoCo, Patrone tequila, Grey Goose and Three Olives vodka, and some beer. Gotta have beer.
Bustout victims will get their choice of honorary Maudie-steel-chair-memorial-Tequila shot or Pre-Boathouse-AlCantHang-SoCo shot. I know, tough choice.
By Monday, I should have plenty o' pix, stories, and maybe even some sound bites. I'm oh so very psyched.
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