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Kicked In The Junk

A "share" blog for fellow poker bloggers who've been kicked in the junk one too many times.
Bad beat via a two outer on the river? Boss giving you shit?
Click the Admin link below and get to writing.

Login: kickedinthejunk Password: groinpains

One outer

Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Alright, J, I had to share a little story of the one-outer on the river that just about drove me from the game.

Full Tilt Poker, probably 6 months ago.

I had been running bad for a couple of weeks and that day wasn't going much better. I was playing at a .10/.25 NL ring game and finally starting to make progress. I had run my bankroll up to around $35.00 when this happened.

I'm on the button and pick up 7-7. Three limpers and the guy before me makes it $5.00 to go. I call and two of the limpers call as well. Flop is 7-7-A and I fall out of my chair and spill beer everywhere. It checks all the way to me and I check as well, might as well trap right? Turn is a harmless 4 and one of the guys in EP leads out $1.00. The guy ahead of me raises to $10.00 and I see no need to wait any longer. I push the remaining 30 something bucks I have all-in.

Folds back around to the raiser and he insta-calls. Woo-Hoo, uh-oh. He turns over A-A for the flopped full house and what are my odds? A million to one to win? Oh no, not on this day. of course the case A hits the river and delivers a swift kick right into my nuts.

I have no problem with the way the hand was played by either of us, it was just bad luck and a recipe for going broke. Oh well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.



Friday, July 22, 2005
Two stories:

Yesterday I was on the way back from lunch with 4 fellow employees when the following conversation about poker came up. As set up, there were 4 young guys in the car (including myself) and 1 older woman. And to my local buddies who read this blog...no I did not start the conversation...

Woman: "I thought you had a poker game at your house every night. 24/7."
Poker Buddy: "Noooo...24/7...you must be thinking about the size of my junk."
Woman: "No that would be 24 divided 7."
Me & Other Two Guys: [Laughing Asses Of]
Me: "She just called you out on the size of your junk dude."

And then it happened. This is the "I shit you not" portion of the story. Not even 5 seconds after the above exchange, the following truck passed directly in front of us turning into a business complex...

Obviously I don't mean this exact truck and the Business Junkees on top, but it was a similar truck with the huge 1-800-GOT JUNK? on the side. In that moment, I was speechless. Inside, I was losing it, but I knew only my poker buddy - and you dear poker bloggers - would truly get how funny it is. I finally said, "check out that junk truck", but it was all lost in the laughter of the situation. For me, however, I knew it would make for an excellent post on Kicked In The Junk.


I made lunch for myself today instead of going out to eat. I've been trying to eat better and spend less money so it was the right thing to do. At the building I work in, there's a lobby where a few drink machines and tables are set up so you can eat and look out a huge window overlooking the parking lot and park. No one ever really sits there and the machines barely get any use because the lobby is kind of out of the way for most people. For the most part, every suite has its own drink & food machines so this one is kind of pointless. However, those tables are where I eat whenever I make my lunch and want to get away from the office. Typically I will have something to read - often printouts of my fellow bloggers posts - and today was no exception. Some capital writing out there by you guys. But that's not what this story is about.

As I was finishing up lunch I felt a rumble in the bronx (stomach felt a bit odd) and I suddenly knew some gas wanted to get the hell out of me ultra quick. I knew I was no where near a bathroom, but felt I was in a pretty safe place to drop a bomb and flee the scene of the crime. I looked to my left and right...I checked in front of me and - most importantly - behind me. All was clear so I let the air down there run its course. And though I tried to avoid any "noise", my body clearly didn't get the memo cause out came a monstrous "bbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrr." Still, I figured, nobody will ever know. And as that nobody will ever know statement hit my brain, fear struck my entire being. I had forgotten to look up. The tables were on the 2nd floor and there was a 3rd floor balcony over looking them. As I began to look up I was hoping beyond hope that no one was there, but I was also resigning myself to the fact that - because it's me we're talking about here - someone would obviously be standing right there. But I was wrong. Unfortunately for me, I was wrong because there were TWO people leaning against the balcony looking down right at me. Two women...one probably my age and the other probably in her 60's. I shook my head - accepting full responsibility for my actions - then stood up and walked out. As I write this now I am laughing, but in that moment, I was waiting for someone to come around the corner and kick me in the junk for being such a dumbass. And for the record, it wreaked something fierce.

Such an idiot.


A Left-Nut Demolisher

Thursday, July 14, 2005
Someday I'll be the one who does the junk kicking.

Just once I'd like to deliver a crushing knee to the groin of the driver
who parks his F-450 across 3 parking spaces so nobody can touch his

I'd appreciate a small window of opportunity in which I could dish out
as many steel toes to the groin that I could muster, of oblivious shoppers
who block paths, bring 40 items thru the 12 or less lane, and refuse to
realize they don't own the store.

And maybe someday I could be granted the only pass available to kick
Bush any time he mispronounces a word. Of course, I'd have to get a team
of junk kickers to handle the load, but I know I'd be up for the challenge.

A guy can wish.

Maybe for now though, I'd just take a world where I don't get kicked in the
junk. If I can't dole out any nut thrashings, then why does Jebus allow me
to consistently take them.

Take today for instance. I was having a good day at work. I accomplished
more than I had hoped I would by the time lunch was arriving. I was primed
for the second part of the day, and even more excited when one of my favorite
chinese restaurants opened back up. (Waiting on a cat shipment, maybe?)

So I sat down to eat the general's chicken with white rice. I had my Mountain
Dew, my USA Today, and Jim Rome was on the radio.

Things were good.

Until, that is, I got delivered the most brutal kick to the junk that I've received
in quite some time.

It came in the form of a reminder. The worst possible way to be reminded about
what I had forgotten.

In the battle between soft food and what should be rock hard teeth, the chicken
won. My girlyman tooth cracked. And it just so happens it's the tooth I recently
had a root canal on. Which reminded me...

Hey Bob! Weren't you supposed to get a crown put on that tooth?


Oh yeah! How's that insurance you forgot to enroll in?

~ Bobby Bracelet