After a Saturday night spent at the bar with Stephen and drinking shots with liquor-induced friends, Sunday was tough. Asprin cured my symptoms, but Steve mixed vodka and redbulls with white russians. His belly was not happy throughout the entire day.
Deciding to leave Steve in a fetal position on the couch to play poker out in Webster, I threw on sweats, a hoodie, a scarf, gloves and my uggs. Since his car is a stick, I awoke him to move his car out of my way. He looked at me and said, "You look like the Salvation Army threw you up." Nice guy, huh. Jerk.
Placed 7th out of 12 players. I couldn't catch a hand and had a re-raiser to my left up until the two tables merged. Sucked.
Monday, November 3, 2008
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