A Bitch of a Week, Pokerwise/Seriously, I Never Learn

This was the first Poker Report in which I made reference to Bert's delicious barbecuing . Seriously, if he endorsed a grill, I'd buy it, even if I don't have a place to keep it or to even barbecue. It's also the first Poker Report in which I started referring to Bert as the inventor of stuff.

Last week was Memorial Day, a day I had off from work, thank Christ, and I got a call from Bert, inventor of the Bert Death Spiral and toothpaste. There’s going to be a barbecue at his house, and there’s a good chance that a poker game might break out. Barbecue and the possibility of poker? I’m there, dude, I’m there. I got there pretty quickly, 'cause I like to haul ass in my ride, but I would have gotten there even faster if I hadn't seen CHP cruisers all over the goddamn place. I get there, and, because Bert, besides inventing the Bert Classic and the automatic teller machine, can work a grill, the food was tasty.

We retire to the kitchen table (we had been outside, enjoying the lovely weather), and set up for the game. There were three of us: my big bro; Bert, inventor of the Bert Light and the internal-combustion engine; and me. What happened, transpired, went down? There’s no gentle way to say this: my big bro beat the hell out of me, almost as if we were little kids again and I had dented his Tonka truck. I lost $33.25, which isn’t a lot, but this was the most I’d lost in nearly two months, and it happened in about only two hours. Early, he out-boated me when he caught on fourth, slow-played it, and let me hang myself with my aggressive bets on fourth and fifth. Toward the end of the game, when I was on a bit of a run and looking at the possibility of getting close to even, he caught on fifth to out-boat me again. That was cold-blooded.

Bert had been way down, too, but he managed to get close to even by taking my money for the last half hour. Then I had to drive home and get ready for work the next day. Great.

3 June 2005: You know how I’ve played a few times with that one guy who gets a little carried away? Well, because my usual Friday-night game wasn’t going to happen (everybody was booked), when one of my co-workers suggested a game at his crib, I didn’t have a reason to say no. So we played again, this time with a bunch of co-workers who hadn't played with us before, and, while that one guy seemed to hold it together a lot better than he had before, he still got loud and a little mean, and, of course, I was distracted and unhappy, just like I knew I would be.

I’ve just never felt comfortable around people who’ve had a few too many; I keep waiting for the thing to get ugly, and, even if it doesn’t, its mere possibility makes me all jumpy.

I know what you're thinking: Well then, you whiny bitch, why don’t you just say that you can’t play? Excellent question.

1) I have a hard time saying no to people. Seriously, it’s sad that I don’t want to let people down.

2) I try to have faith in people and I believe in redemption, so I have to believe that it might turn out okay.

3) It’s poker, bro, it’s poker, you know?

Well, I paid out again, though not that much. I did manage to hold it together much better than I had before. I just played a lot less hands than I ordinarily would have because a lot of people were staying in, hoping to catch to their drawing hands. People trying to catch usually pay out to tactical/seasoned players, except when so many people stay in that one of them is bound to catch. There were a ton of family pots (where everybody stays in for the showdown), and there was no way I was going to stay in for those. All in all, even though I lost, I didn’t feel too bad because I kept my head straight and didn’t let the nincompoopery bother me too much.

Poker Problem: What is up with my right knee?