Grubby at PokerWorks

Thanks to everyone for their kind words about my grandmother. Amy, she would’ve enjoyed the toast.

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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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Reeling off the best July for my bankroll ever, I trudged through August with a whopping 11 losses in a row. The highlight of my month was skulking into Hustler to play 6/12 with a full kill and meeting Ruthie, with shoes so great I had to ask to take a picture, along with the novel Hustler carpeting.

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• Getting my (only) pocket aces cracked by Fuel, who runner runnered quad tens after going all-in pre-flop.
• Holding and petting a clay donkey intermittently throughout the tournament.
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I can’t even begin to write about Vegas over Easter weekend since it was a blur of late nights, loads of beer and surprisingly two shows and only one buffet. I didn’t go to sleep before 5am each morning and awoke before 11am each morning. I did get more sleep than grubby though.

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