So I didn't go to Langerado. After a February that took me from New Zealand to Las Vegas to Denmark and back to the warm spring breezes of the Los Angeles basin, my wallet and my psyche weren't in shape for a four-day trek into the Everglades. Over the months that led up to the festival I heard whispers about costumes and RVs and the absolutely stellar crew and felt pangs of regret and thought about where I could scare up the money, but ultimately, my decision was made for me when I realized the weight of the situation.
There would be camping involved. No hotels. No air conditioning. Potentially heavy mud and rain conditions. Not to mention a bug population that necessitated the use of preventative sprays and repellants and the like.
Homie don't camp. In my 30 years I never have. That's not to say I never will, but I don't know if poor Pauly would want to handle my maiden voyage into the wild. My outdoor sleeping experience is confined to one night spent on a very comfortable lounge chair in the backyard of a house in the south of France and another spent on the upper deck of a houseboat on Lake Powell, Utah when I was about 12. Though reading all the trip reports now makes me wonder about all the fun that might have been, in my heart of hearts I know that I probably wouldn't have survived. Though Otis' bacon biscuits looked mighty fine.
While Pauly's been away I've been doing a lot of two things. Going to the gym and playing poker. I know, I hear all of you gasping around the globe and it's not about me donking around on Full Tilt. I haven't belonged to a gym in well over 5 years and since I had more or less a 3 month block of time where I'd be traveling minimally, I went and got myself a month to month membership at a small, semi-private gym in West Hollywood where they actually allow such things. They're used to gypsy actors coming in and out of town for films and on the first day I worked out there, I ran into a girl who's a new series regular on a quirky medical series. We were both in our college theatre program at the same time and had one of those "where do I know you from?" moments before we figured it out. It's quiet and never crowded there and definitely not a see and be seen sort of place. Though I ended up so sore I could barely get up out of a chair after the first week, I'm sort of getting back into the swing of things and remembering how to work out properly. Way back when I was just a 24-year old D-Girl, I used to see a personal trainer twice a week and thankfully all the pot I've smoked since then didn't kill off the brain cells that held onto that information.
Hitting the gym again is an absolute necessity given that it's almost time for me to gear up for another long summer at the WSOP. Last year I started walking every day for the few weeks leading up to the Series. It certainly helped, but this year I want to take it further so I don't end up being a total wreck at the end of it. Being as healthy as I can right now will certainly pay off when I'm keeping vampire hours and living off of Asian chicken wraps from the Poker Kitchen.
I've also played a fair amount of poker as of late. I guess I'm on an online binge since I've barely had the time since before Christmas to play. Mainly I've been sticking to grinding it out at SNGs and have shown a slow but steady profit and a good ROI for the stakes I'm playing. It might go faster if I played more tables like these 8 and 12 tabling robots I compete against every day, but I really can't profitably play more than 3-4 tables at a time. So I'll stick with what's working for the time being. I've picked up tokens on Full Tilt here and there and played the $28,000 and $32,000 guaranteed a few times and made some small cashes, the best of which was forty-somethingth out of 1100 or so. I've also played a few BBT3 tournaments but am not really sweating leaderboards or anything. Though I bombed out about halfway through the field in Miami Don's Big Game, I made the final table of the Mookie the last two weeks, finishing 9th and 3rd. I feel that I'm playing well and have been more vigilant about analyzing key SNG hands. Reading Lee Nelson's Kill Everyone while I was in Australia certainly taught me volumes about optimal bubble and late-stage play and I'd recommend it to anyone.
Though at this moment, it is 70 degrees outside, breezy and crystal-clear. I think I've been inside for too much of today.
(And a rousing Happy St. Paddy's Day to all my Irish, Catholic, Irish-Catholic, American ex-pat Irish, and amateur alcoholic friends of all faiths and backgrounds!)