Yesterday afternoon I received an email from Party saying that I had a fitty dolla biwe (pitchas of POW! Pitchas of POW! I've been saved by my pitchas of POW!) waiting in my account. Before yesterday, I had whittled it down to .87; not even enough to play one hand of blackjack. Boo.

And today, I woke up with enough phlegm in my throat to choke Taylor Rain, and decided to stay home from work.

Coincidence? I think not, Party Poker. I think not.