Monday, October 23, 2006

Saturday Afternoon In the Drunk Tank

It was an odd gathering of circumstances that led me to play in Saturday’s freeroll.  In the morning, I logged onto Stars and played a few hands of $200NL while I drank my coffee.  My daughter had a soccer game at 1:15 and I was just killing time before I had to go shower.  Out of nowhere, I wondered when the monthly freeroll for VIP members was scheduled.  A few clicks and then, “Hey, it’s today!”

The registration didn’t open up until an hour prior to starting, and at first glance, I thought the maximum number of registrants was only 1000.  I figured if I hurried back from the soccer game, I could register in time.  I had nothing planned for the evening since most of my friends were up camping in the mountains of North Carolina.  Note to readers:  I am not a camper.  Blood need couch, TV, shower and access to pr0n.  Ugh.

After a successful viewing of my daughter’s soccer game where I had to sit in a beach chair on the sidelines and strenuously cheer for her success, I got back home in time to register.  Not soon after, I realized that the max entrees was 10,000 not 1000.  Then I realized that the pay level started at 243 with a whopping $3.  Anything short of the final table was going to be a monumental waste of time.  But rather than be pessimistic, I took the opportunity to work on my struggling tournament game.

My first hand of the tournament, I was dealt pocket Kings.  Nice start.  Well, maybe.  The classic pocket magnets attracted the Ace high flop.  But I managed to win a medium-sized pot when my opponent bluffed the river.  His check on the turn told me he didn’t have an Ace.  I was right and we were off.

Now, the important stuff.  In hour number one, my alcoholic beverage of choice was a Bloody Mary, recipe courtesy of Shep Tiltstein.  It uses a clamato juice base rather than straight tomato juice.  Go ahead, say clamato out loud.  My wife hates the sound of it.  It seems almost menstrual.  But it tastes damn good.  Add in some Lawry’s seasoning, Chalula sauce, Worcester, garlic salt and pepper and I’m in spicy heaven.  It’s no wonder I finished hour number one as the chip leader.

I took the lead thanks to the freeroll moron.  You know the type.  Push nearly every hand and obtain a massive chip lead.  He doubled me up when my pocket 9’s overcame his 74s.  Then, he tripled me up when his A2 failed to suck out on my AK.  A poor bastard with pocket Jacks called two all-ins, but didn’t hold.

Hour number two beverage of choice?  A glass of Shiraz.  I like wine.  Sue me.  I especially like how you can mispronounce Shiraz.  “I like the way Shiraz tastes on my tongue.”  See, that’s funny shit to me.  But the alcoholic content was somewhat diluted because after hour number two, I was in 15th position.

Hour number three saw me open a bottle of Diet Heineken.  It tastes decently enough like regular Heineken, but the reduced caloric content allows me to maintain my current notch on my belt.  Sometimes though, I feel bloated after drinking it.

During the third break, I really, really, really had to go to the bathroom.  So much so, that I didn’t have time to make my signature Grey Goose dirty martini.  I was going to finish off this sucker with my pinky extended, sipping out of my thin-stemmed beverage wear.  Sadly, I had to redo hour number three’s beverage and go with Diet beer from Holland.

I survived the fourth hour and we were at the final table, only five handed.  I had come into the final table as chip leader, but the average stack size was dwindling to M-values of ten or less.  But luckily, during the break, I was able to shake up my Grey Goose concoction and sip that thing to victory.  There’s not much more manly about poker than sipping a drink and pushing virtual chips into the pot.  Nothing.

And so hours later, I took home a very legally obtained $468 because I had not wagered a cent.  Suck it Frist!

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