Voy Por Ustedes

So I'm in the co-op this afternoon and it's been months since my last visit. Every thing's in a different place except the sausages and fruit. I'm a man, so I had a list. I'm in no mood to just float about buying stuff that looks appealing. I'm looking for the canned goods section and quite frankly, after five minutes of searching I was fixing to dump my trolley and go home. I certainly wasn't going to ask someone where they were. That's what they want you to do. I rounded a corner and there they were. Lucky. Is there a lesson here for us all? No, probably not.

I'm fascinated by nerds, I always have been. A dorkologist will be able to give you the exact total of nerd species so far recorded, but I'm quite certain they're second in diversity only to beetles.

In direct contrast to beetles - the lady bird being the only species of which I find appealing; I'm agreeable to all species of nerds with the exception of nauseosus dorkus interrogarius - the quiz nerd. I forget what the collective noun is for quiz nerds, I think it's an 'arrogance,' but you'll excuse me if I'm mistaken.

But anywho, in the beer garden of the Three Pigeons last night for the summer quiz, the Witney (inc. Carterton) Mob did lock horns with an Arrogance of quiz nerds, easily recognisable by the presence of fold away chairs brought from home - and much as it pains me to concede, these nimrods handed us our asses. They didn't even offer us some of their fucking chocolate. I hope they have spots this morning.

The gauntlet has been laid down though. I vow never again to lose to such an appalling gathering of 'own chairers.' It was close you see. Ooooh so close. With just one round of 12 questions remaining we were within a gnats fanny hair of their total. Two points! Just one question separated us! By Gah! The final round of "In what year" questions were our Achilles heel though.

It's only the true quiz nerd that can stow away such unnecessary data. I for example, know what caused the Iranian embassy siege, I know how it ended and I know the SAS's intervention was called, ironically, operation Nimrod; I cannot, unfortunately, recall the year; the least significant fact of the whole encounter. I guessed at 1982. It was 1980. A quizzer will tell you the when and the what, but never the how and the why. The male of the species almost certainly remains a virgin deep into his twenty's and sometimes thirties too.

The next quiz is in September, if I must become one of the them to beat them, then so be it. I shall henceforth get my learn on. I will be reborn a nerd, a quizzing Greek hidden in the arse of a gift horse, they won't suspect a thing. My own Operation Nimrod. Beware of Geeks baring gifts you chocolate eating cunts. And of course if there's one thing more beautiful than the birth of a nerd it's the agonising death throes of a defeated quiz nerd.

Today then after having some tea I sat down and got my subscribe on. I thought I'd give Poker VT a bash. Daniel Negreanu's poker training website. I felt my previous criticism's of the man were harsh and I owed him some of my money by way of an apology. Also one of the pro's on the site is little Annette Obrestad, who, despite looking a little bit like one of those fawns who live in trees in bible bashing C.S. Lewis's Narnia books, is still able to stir something deep within me, groinally speaking.

I'm not submissive by nature, but I do like a woman with spirit. I do, I do! She's very good to be fair to her. I like her style. I'm amused by how she can so matter of factly ridicule some of the top professionals in the game. Mark Goodwin for example, who proudly sports the ridiculous nickname of "Mr Cool."

A nickname I assumed was ironic, but appalling and laughably, I was to discover was literal. He is to cool what Biloxi, Mississippi is to cultural diversity - and little Annette tears his game to pieces. I was left both impressed and sexually aroused. I'm down to no more than a quarter of a bucket in fact.

So anyway yes, I shall give this little learning tool a bash for the next few months and see I'm able to absorb any of the information. I think my dreams will improve even if my poker doesn't.

I almost bought some sushi today. Fortunately at the last minute I was able to not bother. I bought a sammich instead and thank the lord I did. I don't know what possessed me to even consider such a purchase.

The day I eat food of which is the staple diet of another species is the day Satan's willy goes all small cause of how cold it's gotten in hell, that's what I always say.

In other news, I won the Fox game last night. It was a final table for the ages, almost legendary stuff. So close but yet so far to a come back of Jack Strauss proportions from Jimbo. It would have been worth making plans to have grand children just to tell them about it had he won.

With about 5 players left I Tiny Tim'ed Jimbo when I flopped a straight. So crippled was he that just 200 in chips were his lot. Two wee black chips. I was sitting with somewhere in the region of 47,000. Yet six double throughs and a couple of triple throughs later and the heads-up battle between Jimbo and I began!

Astonishing stuff. From 200 chips, I believe Jimbo actually had the chip lead when the heads-up began. On the way, aces were cracked, hopes were dashed. A dizzying fog of disbelief and incredulity shrouded the hopes of the once chip leader John of Salmon who was eventually lost to us just a few hands after Pete of Spedding, both succumbing to Lazarus's unrelenting resurgence.

At once it was left to me to destroy the blue shirted leviathan in the 5 seat. Herman Melville's Captain Ahab or Peter Benchley's Chief Brody? Fate my friends, would decide my role, oh yes. The ensuing battle following in the white watered wake of the previous frenzied attacks, were by contrast the glass sheeted calm waters of a slow strangulated murder death killing of the unrelenting Jimbo beast. The goddess of fortune had turned the tides.

Helped in someway in true Jaws style by Jimbo's boat not being big enough against my own full-house and coupled with my hitting approximately 80% of flops - ultimately it was a little one sided and quite anticlimactic. But did I really win? Did I? After such a revival is it possible to die? Is it people? Is it, when the memory lives on? These are questions only for the Gods. The Gods and Nick Berry. C'est la vie.