New York City
2:07pm. I should be working on an article for the Swedes, but I'm not.
I'm sitting on my brother's couch while watching a NY Knicks pre-season game and flipping back and forth between the game and reruns of The OC on the soap opera channel. It's the episode where Mischa Barton's character experiments with lesbianism. Hot girl of girl action. Much more interesting than the inept Knicks.
I fired up PokerStars. I'm a junkie. I can't contain myself. I have to play sometimes. Anything. I put myself on the wait list for a PLO table and found a seat at a 15/30 limit hold'em table. I sat out one hand and posted my blind.
First fuckin' hand... I'm dealt Ac-As at the cutoff. UTG raised. Player in middle position re-raised. I capped it. Big blind joined the mix. Four players. The flop was Kh-10d-7c. UTG bet out. Player in MP folded. Time to figure out if he had K-K or Big Slick. I raised. the BB folded. UTG re-raised. Well fuck me. Maybe he's got a set of 10s? I called. Turn was 8s. I check-called. The river was the 3h. I check-called again. He showed 7s-7h for a set of 7s. Aces cracked on the first hand.
14 hands later, I found 8-8 in the small blind. I called a raise from late position and then the big blind three-bet. I flopped top set and cracked the big blind's 9-9. I almost recovered the remainder of the funds I lost on Hand #1.
I forgot how cute Rachel Bilson is/was. Delicious. I completely stopped watching the Knicks game.
On the next hand, Karma swings back the other way. I picked up 9-9 and raised. Four players. The flop was 8 high and I lost to a player with 8-8. Ugh.
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