I'm picking up dog $#!%

So last night's second work session wasn't too great.  In fact, it was awful.  There was a crazy player at the table who would just shove all in for $500 at seemingly random times.  It makes for a good game, in that it can be profitable, but like Ed Miller says, against these players, you "must embrace uncertainty."  The crazy player got me.  I knew he would.  They always do.  I always seem to double up the whales.

My standard deviation hovers around $300/hr at 2/5 NL.  This means, that 68% of the time, I'll either be up or down by no more than $300/hr.  It's a nice little gauge to let me know how far outside of the norm each particular session was and this one was right in there.  In 4 hours of play, I managed to double-up the whale twice for about $500 each time.  That sucks.  Everyone else in the game has managed to get a piece of him, but when it's my turn, and I have a 67% chance of beating him preflop, his 3 of clubs is what wins it for him.  Of course.  I knew this going in.

So, today, I'm stuck (poker jargon for having lost) and I'm really hating my apartment more than usual after battling the refrigerator.  Some of life's annoyances are finding me and I'm feeling mentally down.  I was reflecting on last night's sessions as I was just outside with Keyser.  Hating dealing with a dog in the hot Vegas, August afternoon sun.  I bent over to clean up his mess in the grass when some shirtless older man quickly walks by looking through the fence at me and says, "How ya doin?"

My response started out gruffly enough, but ended in a small fit of laughter, "I'm picking up dog shit."

"Oh sorry.  Yeah, I guess that says it all.  Didn't mean to bring it up.  Well I hope your day gets better."

I guess the moral of the story is; at least I'm still laughing...sometimes.

Spiking the Football

I'm in the poker room waiting for a seat.  Someone at a table jumps up, claps and thrusts his fist in the air.  I never celebrate like this at the table.  I think its because I know that at poker, unlike economics, is a sum zero game.  For one person to win, someone had to lose.  The loser is already unhappy about his loss, and I do not wish to rub salt in the wound(s).

Talkative Irishman

There's a talkative Irishman (i assume) at the table who's completely decked out in Celtics FC  attire.  Green watch, green reading glasses, green sunglasses hanging from his green striped shirt, and a green ball cap to boot.  He's got the Celtics shamrock logo all over and I can't understand a word he says....its one of those uber thick accents....I really wanna jokingly ask him if he likes Football, but I'm worried that he'll start engaging me and I don't want any part of that.

I Hope He's a Raider Fan

I really don't understand some people, but to each, his own.

Coke

Rose, a Filipino cocktail waitress here at MGM Grand Hotel/Casino poker room, just asked a player if he wanted cock.  I'm pretty sure she was trying to to say "Coke", but it sure didn't sound like it.

Bad Questions

I'm kind of a fan of the bad question; the other day, a masseuse was called over to my poker table whereupon meeting her female client, she asked, "So, you just playin' some poker?"

And today, the guy two seats to my right, after playing for 20 minutes or more, looks up from his tablet and asks, "What game is this?"  Yes, these are my opponents.
  
  

Wisdom

So this morning at Walmart (at 4 or 5 AM), I saw some guy with a large, overt, tattoo running down the top side of his left forearm that simply said,

"

W

I

S

D

O

M

".

Struck me as a little ironic.  I guess I just don't generally think of the tattooed as being all that wise, but I suppose there's no real reason to think this.  To each his own.

It did make me think how weird it would be to see someone with a tattoo that says, "I hate tattoos" or "Tattoos suck"....which reminds me of a guy that used to drive around my hometown in a truck that had "Stop Vandalism" erratically spray-painted on the tailgate.  Pretty funny...or at least it was when I was young.