Pokerama-rama! Now with more beer!

Beer, brewing and poker, with possibly some inane drivel on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

In March I played 25k hands, qualified for the IronMan freeroll on Fulltilt for playing 27 days out of 30, and made triple the amount in rakeback from raketherake than I ever had before. It was a good month.

In April? I played just enough hands required to lose the $60 I had after cashing out the previously mentioned rakeback payment(one hand), missed both the IronMan freeroll($30k prize pool, and I was pretty much guaranteed $150 for just showing up), and the raketherake freeroll. If you look up the word "idiot" in the dictionary, you'll see a giant picture of me.

Then again, if you're the type of person that has to look up that word in the dictionary, who's the idiot now, Retard? That's what I thought.

I did, however, play at a home game last weekend, which was much more fun than all the 25k hands I played the month before, combined. It could have something to do with being completely shtanked (shitfaced in addition to being tanked) and having the other people still being terrible that made it so fun.

At one point I looked at my hole cards to see that I was dealt quad 5's. I obviously tossed them because I was positive I'd been dealt an unplayable omaha hand, only to realize that not only were we not playing omaha, but the cards I'd thrown in the muck had, by some miracle, been pared down from 4 to 2.

Another time I was really, really drunk? At the Playboy Mansion.

I should really look into becoming a professional segue man, because that sentence was a thing of pure, fucking beauty.

Anyhow, when you attend a Playboy Mansion party(you know, in case you're ever invited), the alcohol is free, which totally explains why I paid at least $80 in tips that night. It also explains why I had to fight off the urge to throw up in the shuttle bus back to the parking garage. As anyone that was there can attest to, slumping in my seat and slurring (while everyone else is cheering through a happy downhill ride) is how I accomplish such a magnificent feat.

But for the life of me, I don't understand why I wasn't asked back. Can anyone enlighten me here?

What was my point? Oh, right; that I went to the Playboy Manson charity event last year, and this year's event sounds like it was much more fun, not to mention controversial.

All I got out of my experience was a crippling hangover and pair of underwear ruined by a Mansion-sized bout of the sharts.

I got hosed.