It recently occurred to me that I've played a mere hour of poker ("poker, . . . I hardly know her") since returning from Vegas the second week of June. I drove up to the Shoe to play on a Saturday about a month ago, but wasn't feeling great; and, when I sat down, it turns out it was a table of maniacs. I had two decent hands -- AJ and TT. I raised both, and got three bet both times. In fact, the TT was eventually 4-bet shoved before action got back around to me (incidentally, I would have rivered a Ten-high straight to take a $600+ pot, but, that's besides the point). I was otherwise card dead, and, after an hour, I left. I haven't played a hand since.
My free time has basically been consumed by a combination of (a) working and (b) following America's pastime. Earlier in the week, I was tempted to get up to AC this weekend to throw some chips around. But, then, last night, I arrived home and found a package from FedEx awaiting my arrival -- my 2015 Jets season tickets. And, it hit me, baseball will soon be coming to an end. Indeed, August is generally the last month I catch live games (post season bases, aside, of course). I mean, once September comes, it's hard to justify spending a Saturday or Sunday at a baseball game, when there is delicious football to be consumed. So, ultimately, I opted to stay in town and catch the Nats - Rockies series at Nationals Park. And, next week, I'll be driving up to The Yard for what may, perhaps, be my last Orioles game of the season. Finally, the following week, I'll be in Denver for the Mets - Rockies series (before beginning a 7-day road trip through the Badlands, Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons to get my mutha-fuck'n nature on!). Anyhow, I'm sucking the life out of this bases season. No regrets during the long winter off season. And, of course, #LGM.