Joe Speaker

So I find myself in middle position with pocket 3’s…

You wouldn’t know it, but I’ve been dealt pocket pairs approximately 20 times this evening. Statisticiamagicians would tell you that I should have flopped trips at least once by now, nearing my second set of flopped trips any time soon. Unfortunately, I haven’t flopped trips yet and my M is getting dangerously low.

To my left is a donkey. Glasses, poker t-shirt, and extremely fantastical attitude about how good he really is. Which isn’t very good, or well, if you ask me because I’m goot at english.

The girl to my right has left repeatedly to hit the bathroom for blow. She has that hardened, spent body of a former stripper look. She has a skeevy white dude railbirding her and it’s obvious he’s hoping she pulls some big pots and takes him back to the room for sloppy sex and huggling.

The rest of the bunch is a smattering of your typical 2007 poker player types. Internet pro, table captain, almost hot chick who needs to lose 20lbs and get a nose job, old bitter Asian lady, and aromatic (in a bad way) loser who no doubt whacks it to animal porn.

I can beat these people.

I’ve done the math.

Early position raises the table norm, popping the 100/200 level blinds to T650. I’ve seen this play before from OBAL (Old Bitter Asian Lady) and I’m not falling for it again. The last two times she popped it from early position I had noticed that it followed a brutal loss. She played these hands very aggressive and it was quite obvious to me that it was a steam play more than a situation where she had a great hand. I was hoping to catch her and snap her off. SNAP, SNAP!!!

Though I’m low at this point, I’m not low enough that I have to push. I’m getting close but I’ve been waiting for this chance all night and I think I can double up against her with the right flop.

I call.

Flop comes 3d 4d 5d.

It figures I land a flop like this. I’ve been bitching and moaning all night about my pocket pairs not tripping, and here Jesus finally lets me trip up and it’s the worst kind of flop you could imagine. I need to go to church more often.

I’ll tell you that the mobney got all-in at this point, and that the turn and river were the 8d and the 9s, but why don’t you tell me what you think OBAL had?

Winner gets a hearty congrats on being so smart.

This will be my last post at PokerWorks. I’d like to thank Linda and the PokerWorks Team for the opportunity and my fellow bloggers for their support.

I was supposed to hang on until the end of the month, but these final September days will be spent in Key West and I don’t believe my new laptop will be a) permitted around a SoCo bottle and b) able to decipher my drunken typings.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty to write about upon my return and I assure you I will pick up the mantle back where it all started at The Obituarium, my personal blog.

Best wishes to all at Poker Works and PokerNews and thanks again for everything.

Let’s start the post off with two important announcements.

1. The $28K Guaranteed on Full Tilt has had nice overlays the last two times I’ve played it, both this week. On Saturday night, the overlay was $2K. Last night, it was $3400. Some good value there. Jump in before the Powers That Be lower it.

2. I’ll be in Vegas Oct. 12-15. Div is coming across the pond from Scotland, so I figured I’d play tour guide for him as he did for me during my weekend last summer in Glasgow. If you’re gonna be in town (or are a local) and would like to partake in some mini-blogger donkey action, leave a comment and I’ll get in touch. Div’s a swell guy, a bit difficult to understand, and he’d be more than happy to make your acquaintance.

Now, on to the debauchery.

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Among my previous acts of degeneracy and depravity, the 11 hours I spent on the couch watching football yesterday has to rank right near the top.

I was totally ready for some football.

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Changes needed to be made. Bad habits erased.

Poker? Nah. My beer gut.

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I went to see a show last night. The Barry Bonds Traveling Circus made a stop at Dodger Stadium for the opener of a three-game set.

Emotions were high and the hometown faithful showed a level of hatred usually reserved for the parking lot attendents.

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What is the odds this gets posted?

What is me repeating the number of scotchs drunk because I’m wasted?

What is my new favorite tournament on Full Tilt?

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Weird scene these days in my brain. Not unpleasant at all. Rather plush, in fact. Big comfy chairs, good scotch and a decent mix of tunes that does not include either Bonnie Raitt or Air Supply.

But it’s an unsettled place. Unthethered and random. Like I can’t sit still for a second.

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There was a moment on Saturday night that was very funny the way it played out and while it might be a “had to be there” experience, I’ll relate it today, amongst other memories.

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I survived. Three days of hot, sweaty rock. Three days of getting drunk in the pool before going to see hot, sweaty rock. Three days of navigating polo fields littered with sprawled humans.

I’m exhausted, burnt to medium well and happy to be home. But I wish it was Friday morning again.

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