I may wear sunglasses this time. I never have before. It's not in my nature. I prefer a baseball cap, pulled down low over my eyes, and perhaps a fake moustache when I'm feeling saucy.
See, dear reader, this will not be just any other poker game. This will not be a game where friends laugh it up when they win and suck it up when they lose.
In this particular poker tournament, when one player busts out, he'll be busting out for good. Or, at least, for a good long while.
You know the man behind the pocket cowboys. He's the man who brings you Up For Poker. He's the man that picked a fantastic career move over an occasional poker game with friends.
CJ is moving to--of all places--Lousiana. If it weren't for the poker rooms within driving distance, the unending supply of gumbo, an ability to honestly celebrate Mardi Gras, and the sweet southern accent of the prettiest ladies in the parrish, I'd think he was crazy. That and the fact that he's moving to one of the top positions in his profession.
So, how do you say goodbye to a guy who doesn't frequent strip clubs, doesn't attack the tequila bottle like he'll never see another, and doesn't have time to go to Vegas?
You organize a poker tournament. That's what you do, muchacho.
So, tomorrow night, we're buying in at 8pm in celebration of a man we call CJ.
Three Up For Poker contributors will be there. And I just may have to wear shades.
The next time I may be able to redeem my pride, I may be doing it in Lousiana. And trust me, friends, redeeming yourself in Lousiana is a tough thing to do, what with all those parrish pretties and poker rooms around.