I Guess It's Official

This is now a poker blog.

I played in my first Wil Wheaton tourney tonight. And boy did I nozedive pretty damn fast. The best hand I had the whole time was a pair of nines. But I'm not pissy or anything. And I promise, no bad beat stories. I've had problems in the past dealing with anger when I bust out of a tourney, and I'm trying hard not to let that happen again. Cause I'm a grown-up. But I will take a non-politically correct minute to bitch about the person sitting beside me the whole time. This person's avatar was a super close up photo of a face with huge cheeks and I couldn't even tell if it was a guy or a girl. Whoever it was, it played every... single... hand. Granted, I'm a pretty tight player, probably a little too tight, but no way in hell would I be reckless. I got blinded away until my M was so low I had to pick a hand and push. So I pushed with 4,5 suited preflop. I know, I know, not the best hand to push with, but I was seriously gonna get blinded away if I didn't take a chance. The table folded all the way aroud until it got to Cheeky 'tard, who of course called. And who of course caught a pair to bust me out. I was outplayed, and I can't argue with that. Thing is, I'm gonna have the afterimage of that grinning avatar burned into the back of my mind all night. I'll dream about Cheeky 'tard coming to get me wearing a too tight red catsuit while carrying a 6 foot tall pair of scissors.

Oh well, guess I need to stare at pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal for a while and burn a different afterimage into my mind.