Against All Odds
In the last three weeks, I've done two things that you degenerates out there would have lost money on had you wagered against me, a bet that would have undoubtedly been the chalk. One, I went to my local Indian casino and played 4/8 w/Kill for seven hours. Two, I hung out at my mom's on a Saturday night, which is about the most boring, spirit-crushing thing a man can do at my age.
I smoked in neither circumstance.
Eff you, haters!
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I made guacamole last night. At 10 p.m. For no reason other than I got a wild hair up my ass to eat my guacamole, which is the finest in this land and others. Naturally, I didn't have any chips on hand, so I just smeared the finished product on a whole wheat tortilla. Got damn.
This morning, I slathered some on a turkey sandwich. I'm gonna eat that soon. Show it who's boss. Give it "what for."
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The 4/8 game was awesome. In the first orbit, I raised with The Drizz and got three-bet. Folded to action on the KQx flop. The three-bettor was a middle-aged woman who was catching all manner of ridiculous straights on the evening. This time, she had K4s and turned two pair to win the pot.
This is the sort of game where I usually get crushered and that evening was going no differently. I was down to about $80, half of what I started with, when I got pocket 7s in a Kill pot. I raised and got 486 callers. The flop came down 752, in a lovely shade of rainbow. I bet and got three callers, including the Straight Lady from above. The turn is a 6, which is, in a vacuum, a little ugly. At this table, it's an Iron-Clad Scare Card.
Still, it's checked to me and I bet. I get called and then Straight Lady raises. Gutter hit. With my re-draw to at least a boat, I've got the odds to call the $16 (and whatever the other dude had, he felt like calling, too), so I do, leaving me one bet in front of me. I stand and yell at the dealer, "C'mon!"
A deuce comes on the river (um...Hammer Boat anyone? Wait, it gets better) and as Straight Lady bets, I say, "This is a big pot I'm gonna win." Win it I do, her 84s no good, and I spend the next 10 minutes stacking $1 chips. I tipped the dealer $10 for that river and when I finally have all my chips in towers, the total is $217. Add the tip to that. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Weird, huh? I thought so, too.
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I haven't made guacamole for 6 months. It's not the kinda dish you make when you're eating by yourself. Last time, I left it behind, to be enjoyed after I was gone, which is a nice way to live life, I think, and all too infrequent.
5 Comments:
You and your crafty titles. Now I have freakin' Phil Collins stuck in my head.
I'm in need of some live poker, and shall sedate it this weekend even if it means remaining sober!
You still need to treat me to your guac . . . I'm skeptical, as mine is pretty darn good.
What outfit were you wearing?
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