Well, that was quick. For a guy that managed to pick up like 6 pocket pairs in the first hour of the tournament, including KK twice, I think it says a LOT about my ability to play this game that I finished far, far behind Pauly, who was sitting out until he finally got blinded out 22nd. It takes real skill to be a card rack and STILL play yourself out of the tournament before the first break.
Now my table draw was not exactly what I had dreamt of, with Lucko on my right elbow and STB and the Luckbox (congrats, again, CJ!!) across the table, plus a couple of people I don't know. But I was able to chip up nicely picking off some of Lucko's steal attempts early, assisted by getting AK, AQ, AT all multiple times in the early going, and typically hitting the flop pretty hard as well. 'Course, Lucko was busy locking up his seat to the WSOP Main Event while we were having our little game as well, so congrats to him on that one!
A couple of big hands came late in my tenure at the table. Zeem had just gotten to the table (Dude, lost your URL, hit me in comments and I'll link you up) and I picked up some mediocre starting hand like KJo and raised in position with it. Zeem calls, I miss the flop, C-bet, get called, hate life. Two hearts on the flop and one on the turn. Great if I had a heart in my hand. Not so much otherwise, I check, thinking "if I had really hit the flush here, I'd check." Zeem checks behind and I bet about 3/4 pot on the river with air. He thinks for a long time before folding and I'm feeling all ten feet tall and bulletproof (c'mon hillbillies, what country singer that looks an awful lot like a taller Blogfather released that as an album title?)
I pick up 99 about an orbit later, and STB raises from early position to 240. Blinds are at 30/60. I pop it to 640, and he calls. I don't like that. It doesn't make me happy that he called. He was supposed to fold there, didn't he get the memo?
Flop comes Q33 and there are very few hands that I can put him on that would both call a reraise preflop and hit that board, so I bet, thinking to myself "Self, that's a GREAT flop for 99." He calls, and I'm sure I can take this hand now. If he's got QQ-AA he reraises me there, so the only thing I'm sweating is TT or JJ, and those I can likely push out on the turn.
Not so much. He checks the turn and I push, thinking not only am I not smart enough to get away from a full house in Hold Em, but there still isn't a hand with a Queen in it that I can put him on here. He makes the call with his AQs, and I've doubled him up.
It was a really good play preflop by STB to call my reraise with a marginal hand like AQ, because I had been super-active at the table, and even had remarked that I was getting hit in the head with the deck. So he took a preflop flyer with a hand that would be easy to get away from if it missed, and when he hit it he knew he could count on my aggro style to do the betting for him, and I did. Well played, sir.
So that was 3,500 in chips gone. I manage to double through CJ when my KK was way further ahead of his 22 than the two overs he naturally assumed I was shoving with, and then went out to Lucko when my AKs didn't catch against his 88. I just thought he was stealing again, because he had been the only one at the table to stick out more position raises than me, but maybe he just happened to catch a shitload of cards when I was in the SB or on the button. Who knows.
So I went out in 54th place, but I don't think I played it too poorly. I'd rather flame out as a victim of my own aggressive play than wash out by playing too passively.
Saturday night was the end of our play's first run, and that typically means one thing - CAST PARTY!!! This usually involves consuming ridiculous amounts of adult beverages and someone getting naked. Now you know why I get along so well with all of you, it sounds a LOT like a blogger gathering. Extra special kudos go to the chick in the cast who showed up to strike the set the next afternoon and helped clean up the set between sessions of leaning into the bushes to puke. That's dedication.
Anyway, there was a part. And since we chipped in and got our director a set of nice chips for his gift, I knew there would be pokering. The chips are BR Pro Tiki Ceramic chips, since Chris and Jill's porch is decorated like a Tiki Lounge.
There was pokering indeed, of a sort. There was more drinking than pokering, and there were times that I needed help reading the board early on, but not nearly as much as my buddy Jimmy, who blew through about 4 buy-ins at $.25/.50 NLHE in a couple hours. When you measure your alcohol consumption by the yard rather than by some fluid measurement, it's not going to be pretty. I ran my QQ into O'Neill's KK once for a pretty expensive pot, but my Aces held up and flopped trips with 65 to get most of that back. I ran a few bluffs, but only a very few, because you can't really bluff someone who is betting $20 - $50 blind on every third hand. I finished up $145 for the night, marking one of my first winning sessions this month! I'd kinda forgotten what it was like to leave a poker table with more money than I sat down with.
So after the game, we put Jimmy to bed. Kinda. As the attempt was being made, Jewart ran for a trashcan to put by the bed (you know why). As he was returning, he found Jimmy holding his hat. His hat full of puke. Better than the floor, I guess. At least he didn't put the hat back on. Then he loaded up the trashcan too. JJ comes out onto the porch where me and Chris were sitting and said, in his very southern and very gay accent (think a male Delta Burke kinda voice) "Chris, I don't think you've got a trashcan that's not full of vomit now." Jewart finally got Jimmy horizontal and he crashed for a few minutes.
For a few minutes. About ten minutes later he staggers out onto the porch, and standing in the doorway announces, one hand pointing skyward, "I will not be put to bed so easily, like kitty litter."
And that just kinda summed up the evening right there.