Grinding, round 2 session 1

Another nice session, +$250 in 20 games. In addition to that, I got to know a rather nice dude, who goes by the name of "ub40baby" on Cake. He normally plays $100 HU, but switches down in low traffic hours. He's quite a good player, and also hates playing me (which i take as a compliment).

Anyway, thats basically it on the poker front, now for important things (beer and a movie).

Oh, and Rugby World Cup final tomorrow! And what a final it promises to be! I found a nice poem in one of the comments sections on one of the BBC blogs, which is so good, it simply has to be shared with the world:

Ode to England RWC 2007

The USA came, and fought with valour, they could not win, but changed our pallor. Next came the Boks with all their might, and we went down without a fight.
And then Samoa, they ducked and weaved, but in the end they too were peeved.

The tide had turned toward our favour, England at last had time to savour. That cup is ours we sought to dream, to wrest it from, will take some team.

The Tongans came, and came on strong, but joy for them did not stay long. They played with flair and were audacious, and in defeat, were ever gracious.

By now with all, the quest to keep, had passed the rose and gone in deep. The doubters, fools and insolent, had sorely missed our real intent.

Then came the Aussies, sleek and brash, felt England, was there to thrash.
But soon against our Aussie "muckers", we stunned them with our mauls and ruckers. Not one inch did we relinquish, we give them reason to hate the English.
In the fray they were to cower, to England's all pervading power.
The hype before, had some believing, that England's finest would soon be leaving. The final act conveyed the truth, again the Aussies were shouting "struth"

The victory there was oh so sweet, but still the work was not complete.

The French were up with loud Oui Oui's, for they'd dispatched the sad Kiwis. And so they felt, like all the rest, that they could beat the very best.
The French could taste that golden loot, and lost all thought of Johnnie’s boot. The Paris party did go hail, but not because of England's fail.
All Frenchmen wandered in a daze, brought on again, by "les Ingles"

To move ahead, turn back the clocks, as once again we face the Boks. They're big and strong and have a cause, the Afrikaners and the Boers. But Englishmen believe their rite, and this time round will give a fight. We'll wear them down, and find a root, to feel the sting of Johnnie’s boot.

And at the end, the final whistle, where is the shamrock, leek or thistle.
No gold and green, no black, les blues, they've all gone home to jeers and boo's. And in the glare, the field of light, left standing are the men in white.
The men of England have prevailed, and all the rest have simply failed.

The morale of this story goes, the Champions still wear England's Rose!

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In short: COME ON, ENGLAND!