A Mountaineer Mauling

Made it down to Mountaineer yesterday for some $1/2 with the hillbillies. Made a couple of bad reads and got pummelled. Had A/K in the cutoff, mid position guy (pretty solid) makes it $12. I call as does a donkey I recognize as a regular. Flop is AK2 w/two diamonds. Checks to me, I bet out $25. Donkey calls, solid guy ups it $75. I shove, donkey folds, other guy calls and snaps off his set of K's into me for my stack. I had to get up and walk that one off. I think I misplayed it, I should've either folded or flat called, the turn was a 2 that made a flush and paired the board. Seeing that card I could've easily folded.

Later on, I get some internet wonders at my table. They start making it $35 preflop every hand (why don't they just sit at the $2/5?) I get JJ, one of them does the $35 thing and I shove over top of him for his last $105. He snap calls, KK of course. Just to rub it in, he has a higher diamond and makes the nut flush on the turn. Oops. Several hands later, I call a $10 raise with 5/7s on the button, flop comes 4-6-A two spades. The raiser shoves his stack in, and I call. He has A4, and I brick out again. I played a 5.5 hour session and didn't make a single straight or flush, didn't flop a set, and only had a pair higher than 10's three hands (JJ twice and AA once). I've been running so fucking bad it's ridiculous. Yes, you can argue the 5-7 hand was a bad preflop call but I had position and got about the best possible flop for it. My streak is still alive at 8 straight visits to Mountaineer without a positive cashout (one break even session).

So, in non poker news I found a baby bunny today. It was hiding behind the service valves on an air conditioner I was working on. It was pretty scared, and it's nest had been destroyed by the neighbor's cat. His littermate had not gotten so lucky, he was mangled in the front yard. I put Mr. Bun Bun in a small box with a washcloth and took him with me. After a couple phone calls, everyone said go put him back because his mom would come back for him. So, I drive all the way back to this call and when I lift him out of the box...he's dead. Stiff. In rigor, couldn't have been dead an hour. I promptly secured the box in several layers of funeral grade plastic bag and interred his remains in our Rubbermaid crypt/trash cannister.

I wanted to get out to Dave's tonight, but I don't own a car anymore (turns out if you stop paying the loan the greedy fuckers come and take back the car). My work truck is lo/jacked to it's not going anywhere except work. I guess it's time for me to go get a beater.