Sunday, November 23, 2003
Poker night is like the polar opposite of ladies' night.
On Friday night we played poker at our pal Mike's place across the street. Because Trevor and I are both Sopranos fans we insisted on calling it "The Executive Game" and enforcing a shirt and tie dress code. The plan was for everyone to bring a bottle of liquor, so that we would have a basic bar setup for the night. Then, the first person to fold in each round had to take drink orders for the rest of us. In hindsight, that gave people who were down on their luck a chance to mix strong drinks for the rest of the players in hopes of dulling their play. That's not a complaint, mind you, rather an unexpected bonus to the rule. Anyway, we all did as we were told and brought drinks to drink, but we didn't communicate what we'd bring ahead of time, so the bar was stocked exclusively with whiskey. Again that's not a complaint. It's sort of like going to a potluck where everyone brings shepherd's pie. Vegetarian shepherd's pie in my case.
I was the big winner because I doubled my money by the end of the game. That means I made ten dollars playing nickel-ante poker. Not too shabby. This morning I had a dream that I was playing poker with Trevor and two girls. I had a full house and was a hundred percent confident that I'd win the hand, but Trevor kept invoking obscure betting rules that he refused to explain. Nobody would tell me what the bet was at and I wanted to raise a lot, but I didn't know what chips were worth how much. I woke up before we had to show our cards.
Half way through the game on Friday Ryan from down the street dropped by. We sent him home to get dressed for the game. When he got home and his roommate said, "What? Was there no game?" Ryan answered, "There's a game. I just got turned away. There's a dress code." His roommate's response was, "Woah, Ryan, don't bet your rent." Even though we weren't actually playing for serious, it's nice to know the executive game facade did it's job.
On a completely different subject, I just sent an email to a friend that I started with a bad joke about a Pharoah that I returned to at the end to wrap things up. It made me feel good about my writing skills to conciously use a device like that... even if the joke was pretty lame. In the email I told her to visit this site. Hi, Ashley!
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I was the big winner because I doubled my money by the end of the game. That means I made ten dollars playing nickel-ante poker. Not too shabby. This morning I had a dream that I was playing poker with Trevor and two girls. I had a full house and was a hundred percent confident that I'd win the hand, but Trevor kept invoking obscure betting rules that he refused to explain. Nobody would tell me what the bet was at and I wanted to raise a lot, but I didn't know what chips were worth how much. I woke up before we had to show our cards.
Half way through the game on Friday Ryan from down the street dropped by. We sent him home to get dressed for the game. When he got home and his roommate said, "What? Was there no game?" Ryan answered, "There's a game. I just got turned away. There's a dress code." His roommate's response was, "Woah, Ryan, don't bet your rent." Even though we weren't actually playing for serious, it's nice to know the executive game facade did it's job.
On a completely different subject, I just sent an email to a friend that I started with a bad joke about a Pharoah that I returned to at the end to wrap things up. It made me feel good about my writing skills to conciously use a device like that... even if the joke was pretty lame. In the email I told her to visit this site. Hi, Ashley!
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