In Like a Lion

Ah....March. I cannot describe how happy I am to see February's last day pass. As with many of you, I put an unnecessary importance to monthly results, arbitrary as they are among the true "one long session" devotees. But still, the month measurement scale is as convenient as it is meaningless.

I posted a very good January, which was especially sweet coming off the horrible December that I traditionally have. Then on February 1st, I hosted a home game and dropped 4-figures, which unfortunately set the tone for the remaining 27 days. Add in a rather poor performance in the FTOPS tournaments and you wind up with a big minus sign leading your Excel sum(x:y) cell.

Looking back at last year, my record of winning to losing months would go 8-3-1. That's decent enough to get me into the playoffs via wildcard.

This year, I've started off 1-1, which while not worrisome, is still disappointing since December's drop was so precipitous. So just like last month, I'm hosting a home game to start off this month. My goal is to not lose $1000. Aim low I always say.

****

February can go pound sand with respect to physical health too. Not mine, but my family's. My daughter set the tone with a bout of stomach flu, which led to my son's being sick for 6 days with the "regular" flu. Just as he was getting better, the wife decided that the family's phlegm production was too low and began manufacturing mucus at breakneck pace.

Me? I'm not sure what's happening. I've either avoided getting ill, was immune to begin with, or am simply incubating a killer cold that should hit me right about the time I press the "publish" button on this jinx-machine known as blogger.

****

Alas, no more celebrity sightings for me. Two days after Renee Zellweger embarrassed herself to get closer to my physical presence at the gym, I saw Rudy Giuliani at a local steak house during lunch. I thought he may have come to town to discuss the future of online poker with me in preparation for a presidential bid. Not the case.

I figured such things come in three's, and was eagerly awaiting my next fortuitous meeting with the rich and famous. Who would it be? George Clooney? He's in town too. No, not him. Perhaps a porn star? Jenna Jameson? Nope. Wasn't her.

It was sad that my third encounter happened Saturday night at a company sponsored dinner party. The night's entertainment was none other than the King. Elvis. The Fat Elvis. Nothing like seeing an Elvis impersonator wrap his sweaty scarf around some young, drunk female employee on the dance floor. We left after he began his third song.