Separated At Birth, Poker Edition

I sort of have a poker blog, but only in the way that people who've abandoned their about to be foreclosed mansion still have a home. I really just have a hard time saying anything interesting about poker that Dr. Pauly doesn't say better, which made finding a genuine voice too difficult. Also, I took a break from the game to find some balance, which I finally did. I still play poker, actually quite a bit these days. I took 131st out of 4191 in the $3 MTT rebuy on Pokerstars the other night - so close, so far away. The guy who crippled me ended up in the final 4 - congrats to him and boo for me! Regadless, I finally posted something new to the poker blog, but in case you're not one of the 3 annual visitors I've had there in the last three years, I figured I'd post it here for my other 296 annual visitors, most of whom are here to read about the South African Lottery or to find an e-mail address to call me an asshole for what I said in the Lakers Blog comments.

Anyway, I'm not sure if anyone's ever noticed this, but Minnesota Twins 1st Baseman Justin Morneau and annoyingly good at everything and good looking poker pro Eric Lindgren must secretly be brothers. They look more alike than Dack & Dirk Rambo did. They're like the Olsen Twins of the Guys Who Are Better Than Me At The Things I Love. Check it out:

"Morneau (seated next to Tully's Current Tall Inaccessible Blonde Dream Girl Erin Andrews)"

"Lindgren"

2 Down, 2 To Go

Well, that was easy enough. My Round 2 match in the Tournament of Champions went about the same as the 1st, although the start was a little shaky. I had no clue that the Black Rock Desert was in Nevada or that Hello, I Must Be Going was Groucho Marx's theme song (however, I do know that it was the title of the last Phil Collins solo album that I could tolerate). After that, I went on an answering spree that dashed the title hopes of my opponent Robert. Most people seemed impressed that I knew so readily that the only two states in the Union that outlaw self-service gas pumps are Oregon and New Jersey, but when you've been to both, the annoyance of long full-service pump waits are not easily forgotten. As an aside, I still have no idea why those states retain such archaic and pointless laws - are the filling station employees' lobbies that powerful in those particular regions? The final question was another fastball right over the heart of the plate: In 1990, what 42-1 longshot beat *at this point I chimed in* Mike Tyson for the heavweight championship? Other than baseball, I know more about boxing than any other sport, so I appreciate the trivia gods for hooking me up. My prize for this round was a Parrot Hands-Free Speakerphone that I will may use, give away or sell. Does anyone (that means the two of you who are still reading this after finding me from a link on the LakersBlog) know if these are good or not?

Robert was an extremely gracious loser, and I felt bad about defeating him. I have an odd internal dichotomy - I am beyond competitive and despise losing at anything, from bag-tossing games to H.O.R.S.E. tournaments on Pokerstars. However, I always feel really badly when I beat people (other than Kristopher Parker, who deserves everything he gets on the rare occasions that I best him at anything). When I'm playing a game, I literally hate my opponents. I wonder if this is a residual effect of the competitive household I grew up in and the pleasure I got from beating my oppressive older siblings in the games we played.

Next up: Round 3 vs. Patrick, on Wednesday, August 6th. Listen in to see if I can drop an A-Bomb on my opponent that day or if I'm going to end up like Hiroshima myself (Aug 6th is the 63rd anniversary of the Enola Gay's special delivery). Patrick is very good, so I have my work cut out for me!