The night was sultry, and I needed a good line to start this endeavor. I was planning on beginning with a brief synapsis of my victorious poker evening but would be remiss if I failed to mention my baby bro's good fortune. He and his wife have been blessed with twins, one of each, as a welcomed addition to their family. Fortunately for him his other "addition," the one to his home, is nearly complete. As this is their third and fourth child respectively, space is at a premium. Good job Steve-O. Your sperms be workin'. I can't wait to meet my new neice and nephew. Now my brother and sister-in-law are a tad bit peculiar when it comes to name selection but I am assured they are all good, wholesome Irish monikers. Since I cannot recall any Irish blood in my family we can rest assured on who is wearing the pants in the family, so to speak. I guess you don't get four children by wearing pants anyhow so that is neither here nor there. Now for the safety of the children I won't use any names but are kids really supposed to have three last names? Of course I am joking but they certainly are "different." Good for them, I say.
Now if you have found yourself reading this text then I say welcome. You undoubtably know me personally or know one of my online poker aliases or have read my commentary is some online forum or another, or are some weird stalking type or both or none or all of the above. If I left anyone out then get over yourself. I can't know everything (to which those that hate me from the forums will attest, but they are retards). .....Now I'm sitting here wondering if my punctuation is correct with such a use of parenthesis? This blog thing might take up more of my time that I am prepared to sacrifice, and it already has taken more than my wife would like, especially if I second guess every bit of grammar I scribe. But I wear the pants in this family, and now that I think of it I think she bought me these pants? She wasn't very happy when my fat ass no longer fit in my size 38's. Come to think of it, neither was I. After a few more beers I might be staring 42's in the face, or the fly since pants don't have faces. Maybe they do but my trouser anatomy could be a bit lacking. Now I will tell you that I missed my calling as a writer because you didn't even see that tremendous self-depricating pun coming and in fact are going back to reread it at this very moment. That is good shit, ain't it?
Oh yeah, das poker game. So I am sitting in the #1 seat in a live poker game earlier tonight and as usual am holding my own. I take great delight in punishing inferior players and am equally skilled at faking the sincerity required to not appear to be a complete asshole. The kid to my right, a Gulf War veteran with "Insane Asylum" tattoed on his forearms, is in a quandry. He has a very healthy stack but is soon to be considered late for work. Before he even gets dealt his cards he announces to the table that he is going all-in on this next hand so he can try to expediate the game along. I am in the small blind so I watch everyone fold around to his expected shove and look down to see A-3 offsuit. Now he hasn't even looked at his cards so it's a snapcall. Of course the big blind whines that he was going to call but begrudgingly folds. Army man flips over K-Q. Suddenly calling off over 10,000 chips doesn't seem like such a certainty, but the poker gods understand his dilemma and deliver me a flopped ace and we both are happy. Well, He lost his buy-in and a chance at the big money and now had to risk a ticket and speed to work so calling him "happy" is subjective at best. Needless to say it was elementary turning my moster stack into a tournament win. I did however offer my heads-up opponent a deal when he won two hands in a row and started making me nervous. I was thinking I made a mistake when he said "I'd be a fool not to take it." No sir, I was the fool to offer, but we drank it at the bar later so it mattered little.
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