When you love probability, you find yourself appreciating the beauty of futile perfection, even when it's at your expense. On Saturday night, I hit the felt in 31 hands. I didn't win a single pot. I only went to showdown 3 times. The bar chart of my stack size over time shows a steady, stately descent to zero. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do to prevent a result like this. All you can do is sit back and enjoy its perfection.
I reupped for the max, and played even poker for another 50 odd hands before hitting a pothole; I lost $14,428 on a hand I got too frisky on. Unfortunately, before I had a chance to build my stack back up, the table quit on me. I decided that was a sign to call it a night. Due to the oddity of the table quitting on me, I forgot to save the final stats.
number of hands played: 85
delta: $-54,826
balance: $3,141,446
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