Grubby at PokerWorks

Growing up on the East Coast, grubette and I would spend a couple weeks every summer at our grandparents’ house in California.

Most of the time we were sent there to get out of our parents’ way so they could have some alone time.

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On Labor Day, back from an all-nighter playing losing no-limit riverboat poker, I crawled into bed at 10:30 a.m., when a friend called asking if I wanted to check out the 28th Annual Taste of Polonia.

Food? Polish women? Casino night? How could I resist?

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I’ve been playing illegal online poker while waiting 8.5 more hours for my illegal download of “The Office” to complete.

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I’ve been entrenched in reading the streaming PokerNews updates of the WSOP, even dreaming that they ended the day early because of excessive farting.

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Did I actually just turn down a game of strip poker with four drunk girls?
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One amendment to Thursday: when I got home, out of sheer habit I launched two SnGs and then passed out before the second level. Somehow I sleepwalked to bed and when I awoke, I checked how I did: 5th and 4th. The Bubble. Man, I need to work on that. I used to play much better while asleep.

I still haven’t talked about Vegas yet, but would you rather read about my usual big slot loss (damn African Diamond with those big gorilla symbols) or read about running after drunk chicks vomiting in people’s yards?

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Thursday began as a precursor to the drunken blogger weekend that would descend onto Chicago 24 hours later.

Went out with coworkers to the Village Tap, where true to my heart, we ordered girlie shots.

Yeah, do I go to Lane Bryant to buy the brassiere that opens in the front or the back. If they’d been playing Kelly Clarkson, I’d have been all set.
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I’m not sure what it was that caused me to use a sick day and then sleep that entire day and not eat anything (a first), for fear it would come out the same way it did the previous night. Or another way.

But let’s just say that I’m naming my firstborn Imodium A-D.

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It could be the 2 liter bottle of Diet Coke that I drank half of or the gobs of sushi that I ate or the second (and final, let’s hope) losing session of $300 on UltimateBet blackjack (rigged, I tell you), or the SnGs that I fell asleep on (came in 4th on the bubble), but I’ve been having some incredibly visceral and suspenseful dreams lately that’s awaking me in the middle of the night.

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Last night, the Horseshoe in Hammond, Ind., hosted a charity event in downtown Chicago to benefit cystic fibrosis. Donations were in increments of a buy-in to their poker tournament, which awarded one winner a seat into the main event of the World Series of Poker, airfare, and hotel.

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