November Reign

After my glorious run to Level 7 of The Mookie, I bitched and moaned and threw a bunch of stuff. Then I ate some candy.

I was monumentally frustrated, basically folding for an hour and then losing a race. So many unplayable hands and I dropped 900 chips with The Hammer, which isn't such a good hand when someone flops a set.

I'm playing poorly, no doubt, but not hitting a single flop kind of adds to the misery. I'm taking a 10-day break after tonight's Riverchasers event, party because of the poker, but also because I've got a lot on my plate and want to focus on that.

Including NaNo. Yes, I'm doing it. I stayed up until midnight last night and dutifully banged out 230 words.

“Would you like to try our new Sauvignon Blanc, sir?” the girl behind the counter asked, a vacuous grin plastered on her face and a wine bottle poised over the empty glass in front of me.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Free alcohol before noon on a Wednesday? What more could I want?”

Her smile waned a little and her eyebrows knitted above her blue eyes. She was hot, this community college blonde, but diversion from her prepared script wasn’t a strong suit. She poured.

“The Blanc is drier than the Chardonnay and has a hint of apple and cinnamon…”

“Hey! Like oatmeal. So maybe I can expense this as breakfast.”

“…and is slightly tinny.”

Her pretty, unmarked face went blank then, so I just stared at her with an expectant grin. What now, sweetheart? I swore I could hear the gears of her brain turning, searching her banks for some kind of response, but she failed to find it in her memory of the four-hour training session she must have surely endured to gain her current employment. So she simply spun away and retreated to the end of the bar to commiserate with her colleague, an unkempt boy with pins or somethingorother stuck in his face who looked even younger than she.

Giddyup.

I also have a weekend away planned and a Thanksgiving turkey project to do with AJ. Let's not get crazy, though, I'll still be betting on football, where I'm crushing the mythical online sportsbook and continuing to get my arse handed to me over at Fantasy Sports Live (Bonus Code: Speaker). I actually had a great last week, until the Saints gave up a meaningless TD to the Niners late, dropping me from 2nd to 4th in my Blogger contest.

My problem at FSL has been staying away from the chalk, i.e. Tom Brady. I've tried to win every week without him because of my pathological hatred for both the Pats and Favorites. Clearly not a good strategy and one I've not adhered to in the Sportsbook where money on the Pats is money in the bank. This week included. Seriously, New England is better than Indy and Belichick is schemeing the shit out of teams. They carved up a solid 'Skins secondary last week with no trouble. They seem to be reveling in the Villian's role and what better way to wear the Black Hat than to physically dominate the Colts and America's Favorite Pitchman.

Pats by two touchdowns. At least. Just 'cause I hate 'em doesn't mean I don't respect their skillz. Best team we've seen in the NFL in nearly 20 years, since the '89 Niners, I'd say.

See y'all tonight. If I raise, just call. With any two. You'll win.