I’m writing this from home. That’s not good. Well, it’s good… it’s a nice enough house I guess… mind you, the bathrooms upstairs could use a little updating… but you know what I mean. All things considered I’d rather be in Verona. But it was not meant to be. Again. I hung in for awhile, long enough to have to move tables 3 times (which is never helpful), stole a few blinds, lost a few blinds, but was never able to get the double-up I so desperately needed. So when I was down to about 12 big blinds I was pretty happy to look down and see a pair of tens. I was still happy when I got called. Not so happy when the caller turned over KK. My nemesis. I went out in about 165th or so. What can you do at that point?

I could make up all sorts of excuses but I won’t. The truth is I could have performed better. I could have done a better job of maximizing my winners, and avoiding some losers. I generally had great starting hands (had “slick” about 8 times, got called on my pre-flop raise every time and flopped blanks). I simply couldn’t hit any of my flops. But I shouldn’t need to. Too often post-flop I found myself the intimidatee instead of the itimidator. And that shouldn’t happen. And I’ve no real explanation for it. My trigger-finger was a little light-hearted this trip. It’s an exingency that I will have to acknowledge and make the proper adjustments for next time. Enough said.

The trip home was uneventful give or take. More rain, less peeing (ironic, in it’s own twisted way). The border-guard was a knock-out. You know, as border-guards go. Like a cross between Teri Hatcher and Phoebe Cates and Tanya Roberts. Actually come to think of it, she looked a little like Ruth Marshall. She asked a barrage of questions. I think she liked my car. Remember Tanya Roberts? Now THAT was an actress. IMO the most underrated and under-appreciated of all Charlie’s Angels. Heckuva thespian.

OK, see ya next time. And there WILL BE a “next time”.