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.