Let me first start by offering thanks to the few of you who've left encouraging feedback. It's most appreciated.
Where we were? Right! Once SuperGirl's 'expectations' were realigned, we sat platonically, logged-in and registered for a PokerStars.com tournament. This was of the $3+ variety whose top winners would get seats into larger tournaments, eventually to win a seat in the WSOP.
Fortunately, this concept was lost on SuperGirl and so winning this tournament, or at least getting to the final table would serve convincingly that I bear the minimum levels of Poker Mediclorines (is it May 19th yet??) to destroy the mortal competition.
And so it begins. Good cards, good results, good vibes. It's a Disney movie and I'm the star. Good luck and winning seems to cultivate an uncanny circumstance of biased reflection and philosophy: My impressions of online tournaments are limited to the one I'm playing in right now! I see that most people revel in associating their poker handles with icons of their dogs, kids, or sports/movie symbols. I can't help but notice that at the tables at which I happen to be assigned, the amazingly inconspicuous lack of poker skill of a given player can be correlated to the likelihood of having an image of themselves, their Pomeranian (or other similarly annoying dog), or some freakishly miniaturized "vast" Midwest landscape. Conversely, seems the talented players use images conveying some rudimentary understanding of Photoshop, a fascination with apocalyptic or KGB Teddy-like themes, or any cursory interest in the Simpsons or SouthPark.
I'll look forward to your comments when you see what I've chosen.
I slash, cut and pillage my way to 1st place (70k in chips), with 47 players out of 163 remaining and 4x the average stack. Once I can figure out how to import a screen shot to this mess, I'll do it. I mix up my play, bluff occasionally, use my stack effectively. Get my share of good cards and exploit them as expected and perfectly. I don't get drawn into any wars and play a solid game, picking on the small stacks and avoiding chasing down false glory to medium sized stacks.
I'm confident. I sense SuperGirl is hyper-interested now -- but I think she has it in her head still that the 70K in chips equates to 70K greenbacks to do with as we please. No matter. If this is what it takes, it's a concept I'm in no hurry to clarify.
What follows is not the stuff of legends. It is most certainly not going to make me the object of SuperGirl's, flush-with-cash desires! It is the stuff of nightmares and distraction and esteem draining matter. I might as well change my handle image to that of a portrait of me in front of the Grand Canyon with all three of our dogs smiling idiotically though we're made of wax.
I just stopped getting cards. Just like that, I went from blessed to cursed. For the remainder of the tournament, I couldn't back-up a bluff with anything and lost my credibility, aura and stack. Instead, I was ravaged and left for a stream of vincibility and softness.
If I got royalty, it was a Jack, and it came with a 4 or lower. I had no pocket pairs and anything connected went unsuited and no higher than 8.
The ultimate winner of the tournament, who had been in 11th position at the time of my prtSr with around 23K in chips, went on a mad rush. Raised everything and stopped getting called. When he did, he had the goods.
Finally, down to 2 tables, when I got KQd it looked like the best hand I'd ever see again, and thus an all-in proposition if ever there was one. I run into "Electronutz" and his pocket QQ's. No sign of a straight, diamond or King anywhere on the flop, turn and river that came.
I could have been playing with 4 cards in my hand, none would have been on the flop. "Good night, thanks for spending 4 hours of your time with us; have a Frequent Player point on your way out."
I'm out in 13th place. Kicking myself for allowing the 20K's through 40K's to (use your best Russian accent>