(pic courtesy of Maudie)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
The Host
This is pretty big news. I have won THE most prestigious tournament on the planet. Sure you got your WSOP Main Event, WPT Championships, WSOP Europe, EPT, WCOOP, FTOPS, blah, blah, freakin' blah!
I'm talkin' 'bout this one:
Much thanks goes to the birthday boy host himself, Dr. Pauly, who finished 2nd to me and my luckboxish type ways. Seriously, thanks again for hosting Dr., it was a metric ton of fun.
I'm talkin' 'bout this one:
Much thanks goes to the birthday boy host himself, Dr. Pauly, who finished 2nd to me and my luckboxish type ways. Seriously, thanks again for hosting Dr., it was a metric ton of fun.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Midway
Today will mark 3 weeks since I got stupid and fell. Today is also my 19th day in the cast. Sofa king tired of the left hand wipe. That's all I'll say about that. I've managed to keep the cast smelling just shy of 4-year old hockey equipment by flooding it with soap in the shower. My right forearm has probably shrunk enough so that water can flow through it. Add a little Axe Effect spray and I'm good to go.
Here's a small recap of the weight guesses for the Bash:
BamBam - 175.5
Drizz - 172.3
Peter Birks - 165.5 (and to answer your question Peter, the December trip is the 2nd weekend, however, no official tourney is as yet set up.)
StB - 175
NutzCarson - 173
I've been managing to still do legs twice a week (Tom Platz I'm not) and cardio 5 times a week, but not doing anything with my upper body is killing me. I may need to get on the program once I recover. Never have before, but what's a little back acne?
****
Poker? Yes, I've been playing. A lot actually. Grinded out GoldStar status last month and will probably do so again. I've found that .5/1 PLO has kept my attention for about 3500 hands last week and I feel happy to claim a small profit in that endeavor, something around 5 PTBB/100.
Still can't avoid the 1-outers there though, but fun is fun.
****
As a Pats fan, I'm a bit bummed at yesterday's events. I just knew something was wrong when I was at the gym watching the Jets/Dolphins game and the Pats/KC game updates seemed to be frozen while all the other games were showing progress. I figured injury and was right. Quite the nightmare if Tom's out for the year. I say grab Culpepper, he threw to Moss for years in Minnesota. How much faith do you put in Cassel?
****
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Mis-Click, Here I Come
6 weeks. Minimum. Surgery was offered to me for screws, but I turned it down. It would only have made me wear a smaller cast and would not have accelerated the healing process. Come Bash time, I will probably drink myself into a non-recoverable state.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Shift The Focus
Rather than dwell on the stupid things that happen to stupid people, let's focus on good things happening to good people.
TheTrooper97
TheTrooper97
Spanning The Globe
Perhaps you recall the immortal words of Jim McKay's "Wide World of Sports" opening sequence. "The thrill of victory..." Cue Winter Olympic ski jumper falling off the side of the launch hill. "...and the agony of defeat."
Inspired by the Summer Olympics, there was a challenge issued at Monday night's poker game. Our dealer Broc would race against anyone at the table. My ego spoke up, even willing to wager a c-note on the event. The deal was struck and the race was on. The venue: GucciRick's ever so slightly declining, very well paved front driveway. Broc is 6'5" (a fact I didn't consider) and about 250 lbs (a fact I did consider). How could I lose? PS: I ha' full house!
On came the floodlights. Someone got in their car to shine headlights on the course. Seventy-five yards were marked off as two combatants stretched by the starting line. After one false start by Broc, we had a clean start.
I fell behind early. But not so much that I didn't feel I could make it up at the later stages. If only I got there.
As I tried to boost my speed, I felt my upper body get ahead of me. If you've ever seen any video of idiots (like myself) running downhill, you know that once a certain state of imbalance is achieved, there's simply no recovery.
I did not recover.
And down I went, kind of hard. I broke my fall with my hands and rolled over once into the grass on the side of the driveway. My pride hurt more than anything. I'd soon find a nice patch of road rash on my right elbow, but other than that I thought I came away unscathed.
We went back to the poker table, I paid my debt and we continued to play. Thankfully I won a decent amount to both help recoup from last week's horrible showing and compensate for my idiot athletic lack of prowess.
Gradually, however, my hands and wrists began to swell and hurt. As the night wore on, the swelling and pain kept increasing. It got to the point where it was difficult to drive home. I popped some Aleve and went to bed, hoping to wake up the next day to some minor soreness.
That did not happen.
I knew based on how difficult it was to simply put on a pair of pants that morning that I'd need to get X-rays. Long story short: One sprain (right wrist), one fracture (left wrist). I knew I was old, but had no idea how fragile I'd become. This injury does not make for a happy BadBlood. Lifting weights is simply out of the question right now. I'm not sure how long I'll be sidelined from that activity. I suppose I can still do cardio, legs and abs; but that's about it.
My right wrist feels worse even though it's only sprained. This poses several problems. Here are some things made more difficult with a painful wrist sprain.
Opening doors
Turning keys, door or car
Twisting bottle caps off sodas
Cutting food with a knife
Wiping my ass
Waving bye to the kids after I drop them off at school
Typing
Moving a mouse, although I can still click pretty well
Using a steering wheel
Lifting a drink and tilting it towards my mouth (What drinking problem?)
An obvious one I don't need to detail right here but one which everyone is probably thinking
I told my wife that if she wants any kind of action, she's going to have to do ALL the work. But she's used to it.
I have to go to a hand specialist tomorrow to see if the fracture requires a cast or anything. I'm hoping it doesn't. Perhaps I'll be back at the weights in no time. If no time means six weeks, I may end up killing someone. With my feet.
So let's turn this negative into a positive somehow. The prop bet is open for you dear readers who will be attending the bash. This morning, I weighed in at 170.5 lbs on my bathroom digital scale. Your task is to guess what my weight will be the Friday morning I leave for Philly. I'm not sure how much working out I can do between now and then, but it's safe to say I'm not going to be lifting weights for a minimum of two weeks. Will I lose weight? Will I gain weight? Your call. Closest guess gets their bar tab taken care of Friday night in Philly. And a lap dance if you Procedure it up with me.
It took four hours to type this.
Inspired by the Summer Olympics, there was a challenge issued at Monday night's poker game. Our dealer Broc would race against anyone at the table. My ego spoke up, even willing to wager a c-note on the event. The deal was struck and the race was on. The venue: GucciRick's ever so slightly declining, very well paved front driveway. Broc is 6'5" (a fact I didn't consider) and about 250 lbs (a fact I did consider). How could I lose? PS: I ha' full house!
On came the floodlights. Someone got in their car to shine headlights on the course. Seventy-five yards were marked off as two combatants stretched by the starting line. After one false start by Broc, we had a clean start.
I fell behind early. But not so much that I didn't feel I could make it up at the later stages. If only I got there.
As I tried to boost my speed, I felt my upper body get ahead of me. If you've ever seen any video of idiots (like myself) running downhill, you know that once a certain state of imbalance is achieved, there's simply no recovery.
I did not recover.
And down I went, kind of hard. I broke my fall with my hands and rolled over once into the grass on the side of the driveway. My pride hurt more than anything. I'd soon find a nice patch of road rash on my right elbow, but other than that I thought I came away unscathed.
We went back to the poker table, I paid my debt and we continued to play. Thankfully I won a decent amount to both help recoup from last week's horrible showing and compensate for my idiot athletic lack of prowess.
Gradually, however, my hands and wrists began to swell and hurt. As the night wore on, the swelling and pain kept increasing. It got to the point where it was difficult to drive home. I popped some Aleve and went to bed, hoping to wake up the next day to some minor soreness.
That did not happen.
I knew based on how difficult it was to simply put on a pair of pants that morning that I'd need to get X-rays. Long story short: One sprain (right wrist), one fracture (left wrist). I knew I was old, but had no idea how fragile I'd become. This injury does not make for a happy BadBlood. Lifting weights is simply out of the question right now. I'm not sure how long I'll be sidelined from that activity. I suppose I can still do cardio, legs and abs; but that's about it.
My right wrist feels worse even though it's only sprained. This poses several problems. Here are some things made more difficult with a painful wrist sprain.
Opening doors
Turning keys, door or car
Twisting bottle caps off sodas
Cutting food with a knife
Wiping my ass
Waving bye to the kids after I drop them off at school
Typing
Moving a mouse, although I can still click pretty well
Using a steering wheel
Lifting a drink and tilting it towards my mouth (What drinking problem?)
An obvious one I don't need to detail right here but one which everyone is probably thinking
I told my wife that if she wants any kind of action, she's going to have to do ALL the work. But she's used to it.
I have to go to a hand specialist tomorrow to see if the fracture requires a cast or anything. I'm hoping it doesn't. Perhaps I'll be back at the weights in no time. If no time means six weeks, I may end up killing someone. With my feet.
So let's turn this negative into a positive somehow. The prop bet is open for you dear readers who will be attending the bash. This morning, I weighed in at 170.5 lbs on my bathroom digital scale. Your task is to guess what my weight will be the Friday morning I leave for Philly. I'm not sure how much working out I can do between now and then, but it's safe to say I'm not going to be lifting weights for a minimum of two weeks. Will I lose weight? Will I gain weight? Your call. Closest guess gets their bar tab taken care of Friday night in Philly. And a lap dance if you Procedure it up with me.
It took four hours to type this.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
2007 All Over Again
It doesn't take much. You can string together a series of sizable wins for yourself, but if you haven't fixed all of your leaks, eventually something will happen to trigger a relapse into bad habits. Last night, something happened.
It's the GucciRick game and I started off poorly, torpedoing my first buy-in on a semi-bluff that didn't get there. As my second buy-in whittled down, I grew leery of my play; check-calling medium strength hands into other medium strength hands a small notch above mine. My reads were right, but I didn't act on them strongly enough. It happens sometimes and is a prime symptom of Hero-Call Syndrome.
Regardless, I finally woke up with a hand, AA UTG+1. It was a straddled pot, so I limped for $5. Hutch sitting directly to my left raised to $18 and then after that, WitchProject re-raised to $42. Just what I needed. When it got to me, it was an easy shove. WitchProject didn't take too long to call with his pocket Kings.
Then I heard it.
Damn GucciRick.
"I folded a King," he said. He may have well said, "You ha' two Aces, you can' lose!!!!"
Bang. King on the flop.
That's what happened to me three times in 2007. AA vs. KK all-in pre-flop and I lost. Those are killers to me for some reason. I know it happens, but hate it all the same. It's my Achilles heel, the part of me that wasn't dipped in the River Styx. And every time the long bow's arrow known as a 9:1 pre-flop favorite finds that sweet spot, I'm done.
After that, I played horribly and continued to lose. Another fine lesson in re-discovering your weaknesses at the cost of three buy-ins.
Yay poker.
It's the GucciRick game and I started off poorly, torpedoing my first buy-in on a semi-bluff that didn't get there. As my second buy-in whittled down, I grew leery of my play; check-calling medium strength hands into other medium strength hands a small notch above mine. My reads were right, but I didn't act on them strongly enough. It happens sometimes and is a prime symptom of Hero-Call Syndrome.
Regardless, I finally woke up with a hand, AA UTG+1. It was a straddled pot, so I limped for $5. Hutch sitting directly to my left raised to $18 and then after that, WitchProject re-raised to $42. Just what I needed. When it got to me, it was an easy shove. WitchProject didn't take too long to call with his pocket Kings.
Then I heard it.
Damn GucciRick.
"I folded a King," he said. He may have well said, "You ha' two Aces, you can' lose!!!!"
Bang. King on the flop.
That's what happened to me three times in 2007. AA vs. KK all-in pre-flop and I lost. Those are killers to me for some reason. I know it happens, but hate it all the same. It's my Achilles heel, the part of me that wasn't dipped in the River Styx. And every time the long bow's arrow known as a 9:1 pre-flop favorite finds that sweet spot, I'm done.
After that, I played horribly and continued to lose. Another fine lesson in re-discovering your weaknesses at the cost of three buy-ins.
Yay poker.
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