An arse of a Weekend

After last weeks epic weekend, this one was always going to be a bit of a let down i suppose, and after a horrific performance from me on Thursday (league night) i thought the Circus on Friday could get me back on track. To my frustration i'm ready a bit early and rather than hang about at home, i decide to head to the G, entering the tournament with the sole intention of playing like an absolute arse.

Within 5 mins, mission was accomplished. Raising with any two cards, shoving with any draw, calling all-ins with middle pair, etc etc all saw my stack up to 14k quite quickly. At this point my table image is as bad as those two demonic kids who have been in the news lately and when i wake up with pocket queens, i manage to get a lad to commit his entire stack with only pocket 5s on a J 8 6 flop, helping me on my way to the FT with the second largest stack. The FT starts slowly, and two of the short stacks get doubled up with the worst hand coming out best each time. By the time the blinds pass me, i'm down to 5 big blinds and shove from the button, only for the small blind to snap-shove with AK (this could be a good time to look at my cards).. J 5 off bricks the world and i'm out first for £60, arse!

The £75 freezeout at Circus the following afternoon goes well from the off, until Ramsey tells me the unmanned chipstack next to me is owned by Andy Harrison, which i knew could only mean bad things were to come. As expected, he sends me to the rail not long after arriving after i give him absolutely no credit for a two on a K 2 2 flop and bet every street with my king, what an arse! He did at least go on to split the prizepool with a few others, so my chips went to some use.

Unable to face any more poker i get a timely txt from a mate and we head off into town. After a few drinks down the Ouseburn, bumping into a few ex-colleagues, we head into the city centre where we were greeted with the personality and charm that is the doorstaff of Newcastle. The point of queueing to get into any bar when you could simply walk to the one next door and get straight in annoys me right from the off, but the line was only 8 deep, so we waited. Knowing we wouldn't get in (there being more than 2 of us tends to be a problem with doormen these days) we split up, and queue in twos, spaced randomly in the line. We get to the front of the queue and the doorman quietly suggests "no groups of lads" to which i look around, seeing two total strangers behind us. I say "uhh, there's only 2 of us mate". The doorman then goes on to tell us that he'd seen us join the queue with the 2 lads behind us. Now, not having the first clue who these two were i said "well, we don't know them". The doorman then offers us the best deal of the night and says "well, put it this way, if you come in.. they don't, it's as simple as that!".. .. prompting my mate to say "uhhh.. alreet" to the doorman, and an "unlucky!" to the lads behind us. Sooner or later you're only gonna get into bars if you're on your own! "two lads.. sorry mate, thats too many, we don't let groups of lads in".. arse!

Moral of the story.. just stay in the Cluny and drink out of plastic glasses like you're a bairn, albeit a bairn with serious alcohol problems. (FYI: keep away from Grolsch Blonde.. truely awful).