Yes ladies and gentlemen, we had a homegame again the other night with the same bunch of people and guess what? Biscotti entered the room, had a look at all the poor guys and left with some 45 € profit. I have to admit, I was running reasonably good. No, I was running like hell.

I made my first move of the evening when I was not even sitting on the table yet. I decided to cook a nice and healthy meal for myself when the game was already supposed to be on for like an hour. This way I got the players sitting on the table a little on tilt already. Besides, healthy meals keep me in great shape so I can conquer some grapes in the near future. My second move was wearing an awesome distracting tshirt. While everybody was guessing after what was exactly on it, I picked up a full boat with my Hellmuths and doubled up against the fat kid. He was so confused by my genious play that he decided to go broke another two times in like seven minutes.

The Turkish guy meanwhile used his own methods to command the table: he just threatened to pound one’s player head with a ‘matrak’. I guess that must be some archaic Turkish weapon or something. He happened to have picked up a new 32 year old girlfriend from South-America btw, I think she must be hot because I think all South American women are hot. We played some more hands and the Iranian Dutchman, who was dressed like a moron but nothing new there, was having (I have to admit) an awesome read on the table. That sucked in one particular hand, where I flopped a set of jacks. I led out immediately and he mucked his toppair stating I had exactly this hand. I tried to throw in a little bad acting by saying I had AK (also toppair) but he didn’t believe it  from the start.

I was able to build up a nice stack the rest of the evening, playing aggresively against the two rocks and having patience against the loose jobless guy, who played almost 90% of the hands. That’s my formula of winning every time: outflop the good players and outplay the bad players. That’s how I rule my kingdom!