This post is being beamed to you directlyfrom the friendly people at Northwest Airlines!
That's what I would be saying if airlines weren't stupid and actually provided wifi on all domestic flights. But they don't, and we already went over why. So, the next best option is to use my time on this airborne dildo by writing, and then immediately hitting post when I disembark. Since I don't have the luxury of using Onelook like I normally would 75 times a post, "disembark" may or may not be the word I was looking for. In fact, it may not even be a word. So, don't expect this to be the last time I use a word uncorrectly.
Also, I'm forced to use my laptops thumbpad thingy because there's no room to use my awesome optical mouse. I hate using the thumbpad. They're made for retards and since I'm not a retard, I am incapable of using one in a productive manner. Don't argue my logic, please, I know of what I speak.
So, yeah, I'm on a flight to Vegas, and I'm pretty sure I'll be the last to arrive. I texted Bobby B.--because talking on the phone is for gay men and 16 year old girls--and he was already at the Excal thanks to being able to get standby, and Kent arrives sometime around noon. That's everybody, right? Well, not quite. It seems that there are 115 people playing in the tournament this go 'round, of which I know approximately 10 of the bloggers.
And that's the tough thing about these trips; the more bloggers that sign on, the fewer I ultimately am able to read.
I can see it now; someone will introduce themselves by their blog name--and I hate it, but it's the nature of the this silly game-- and I'll cock my head to the side like a confused puppy and act my way through the introduction like I've known them all along. Like they're old friends. Buddy ol' pal, can I buy you a drink?
You don't drink? Really? That's crazy talk. I've only met two people in my entire life that don't drink; one because of a liver transplant early in life, and another, a guy on my soccer team we've dubbed "Last Year Mike" because the only thing he's good at is taking up space. I digress.
I was teeter-tottering on whether or not I was actually going to play in the tournament tomorrow becausee, I've played exactly two MTT's and three SNG's in the past month, and my game hasn't been in a place where I felt comfortable forking over $80 as dead money. And dead money in this group of hooligans and functional drunks is not a good thing to be.
A few days ago I deposited the lowly sum of $25 into PokerStars with the intent of ripping through a couple SNG's to see if poker still sucked eggs or not. Oddly enough, I finished in the money in both and felt like almost invincible. But I still didn't win enough to make the WPBT a freeroll for me, which I would've liked.
That happened this morning.
On the absolute last hand I could possibly play before I had to catch the bus to catch the light rail to catch the tram to the airport so that I could get on this very here plane that I'm typing on right now, I was dealt Kings. I stacked two players when I hit a set on a benign flop and they decided to go to war before it got back to me. One jammed his small stack in with a king and no kicker, and the other jammed a much bigger stack with a jack high flush draw. Idiot. I filled up on the river and I was out the door after relieving them of the obvious burden that cash was bringing to their bankroll.
So, I'm pretty sure I've almost totally kind of decided to play in the tournament tomorrow morning. The final decision won't be made until 9:55 in the am, though. I didn't know that you were allowed to be out of bed in Vegas at 10 in the morning unless you were still awake from the previous night. It's a law, right?