Hey, Variance, can we talk? Good, good.
I was just sitting over here, you know, thinkin' 'bout stuff, and...
How'd that feel? Not very good, huh? I bet you weren't even expecting it, either. Bob and weave. Stick and move. Those are my mottos.
Now you know how I feel about you at this very moment. I understand that I'm cool, handsome and whatnot, so you're just naturally attracted to me. All the lizzadies are. But that doesn't mean you had to follow me around all weekend, from tournament to tournamet, and repeatedly feel the need to spastically say Hello! when I'm near the bubble. And the fact that in 4 out of the 6 tourneys you decided to knock me out when I was holding pocket aces, well, that was a nice touch, but wholly unecessary, really it was.
I'm not even sure what kind of point you're trying to prove here. What, that I'm a sucky player? Check. Mission accomplished. That I'm a momma's boy with daddy issues? Well, I don't know about that. I'm still trying to figure out what that means.
What do you get from the guy(or girl) that calls off 3/4 of their stack against my AA while they're holding K9c? It better be some mind-blowing deep-dickin' or piles of hundred dolla bills, y'all, or you're seriously getting gipped.
It's not that you eventually always find me that makes me so mad. It's that in every single last one of these tournaments, I had been playing pretty damn well. I'd finally shed my super passive skin and had chipped up quite nicely all the way around. I know it sounds crazy, but it's like I'm finally starting to get it. Hey, it sounds as crazy to me as it does to you.
But apparently getting it doesn't necessarily get you there.
How the hell should I know? I'm just the player, you're the one directing the turn of the cards. In the future, though, I'd appreciate it if you'd allow my aces to hold up just once, and you know, stop going all Lucy on me by pulling the damn football away yet again.
Thanks. As much as I am (your) dirty little whore, poker just isn't the same when I'm on my back.