Project Number One

Longest. Break. Ever.

I don’t want to end up in Iggy’s ‘languishing’ section – oh, the ignominy – so here goes. There is probably a ton to catch up really, and I know I have some notes scrawled on one of the seven or eight scraps of paper with which I run my highly-organised life, but this will just be a skim-the-surface, state-of-the-nation, heavy-on-the-hyphens affair.

Nitty-gritty first. My pretty horrible run continued right up to Christmas and on Boxing Day evening I was reduced to playing one table of PLO8 only; I feel that the variance can be minimised more easily, without giving up too much profitability, at PLO8 than high-only Omaha. Thankfully, I won a couple of very decent pots and made a hundred bucks ($25 max buy-in at the table) to put myself back in sight of some sort of comfort zone.

Since then I’ve played a mix of PLO, PLO8 and a few two-table NLHE sit and goes, and have put another hundred bucks or so without having any real big pots go my way. The two table sit and goes are quite fun – I figured they might suit me because in real life I did really well in a couple of 20-or-so runner tournaments last year. So far I’m fractionally down after a handful of them, having managed a second place and a couple of 5th-place bubbles.

I haven’t played a whole bunch of hours over my ten day Christmas break from work, which disappoints me somewhat – but on the other hand I’ve been having a lot of fun. I’ve been watching a few DVDs, playing a new football strategy game I bought a couple of weeks ago, and – frankly – having quite a lot of sex. It was nice in particular to spend new year’s eve one-on-one in front of a log fire, rather than spending an enormous amount of money in a bar surrounded by (fellow) drunken idiots and then wondering why – again - nobody thought to book a taxi. So NYE worked out good, after an absolutely blazing row at a restaurant, over my ex yet again.

So, New Year. I don’t make resolutions, but I’d sure like to quit smoking. Project Number One, though, is to move out of my mother’s. I wound up there last February and only ever intended to be there a short while, and despite all the plusses (mostly housework and money-related) it is really driving me up the wall now. Going back to paying rent is going to be a killer, but for the sake of my sanity and happiness and privacy and self-respect it is a must.

To close on a poker note: Do you ever have that moment when you make a fairly large bet with a decent hand, your opponent folds, and you suddenly think ‘Hang on a minute, I could have had absolutely any ragbag cards and made that bet and he would still have folded?’ I guess maniacs have that moment and become addicted to it and the power of the bet. I know that I would dearly like to be more aggressive than I am at present, but I just can’t build up the bankroll required to shovel in the chips more freely. Not because I suck but because – regular readers yawn now – I am constantly drawing upon my bankroll to stretch my salary each month.

Anyway, that thought reminded me of a mildly amusing story from my poker past… Basically, the night after my ex discovered that I had had an affair some months previously (an unutterably awful moment in my life of course) she went online with a friend and played poker on my then-account at UB while I was spending a few nights exiled to my mate’s sofa. In short, in her admirably revenge-focussed mood, she attempted to throw away my money at the no-limit tables with a succession of crazy and over-aggressive bets and raises. You can probably guess what happened – she kept winning and had to give up!

She’s a smashing person and I hope she has a great birthday tomorrow.