Another Ten-Hour Day Behind Me

Hey, remember a couple of weeks ago when I was bitching about not getting enough hours at work? Well, my advice to you, dear readers, is to be careful what you ask for--you just might get it.

Currently, I'm in the 'feast' cycle of that whole feast-or-famine thing, and I've got more work than I could've possibly imagined. It's been a week full of long days, and today was another ten-hour workday.

I went in at 7:00 am, and there was only one small 4/8 game going, and I thought I'd be in for an easy half-day of work, which, to be honest, I was kind of hoping for. But no, it was not to be. It was steady in the morning, and while I was making decent money, it was nothing to get excited about. But around noon, the floodgates opened, and the poker room got slammed in a hurry. I swear, every fish, rounder, and tourist in Vegas wanted to play poker today.

At one point, I pushed seven tables without a break, and again, I had that problem of leaning over the layout to push pots and having that little Kintner boy my tokes come spilling out all over the dock table. But if that's the worst obstacle I face during my workday, well, I must be doing pretty well.

But it sure makes for a long day. And after awhile, once you've been locked down so long, you can easily make mistakes and misread hands, push pots to the wrong player, screw up the button or the blinds, or any number of other mildly embarrassing mistakes. Luckily, I didn't mess up too badly today, but man, once I got cut out, I was very happy to be free.

My plan after work was to go find a local watering hole and down a few icy cold beers and get something to grub on. I hadn't eaten anything all day and was starving. But as I was driving home, I saw that I had a text message from Dougie, so I called him back. We were talking for a bit and he reminded me of the T2V poker tournament that started a half-hour later--which I'd already paid for.

But I had totally forgotten about it. Hell, I wasn't running on all cylinders when I left work anyways--once I got home I realized that I was still wearing my apron underneath my Cardinals t-shirt. Yes, I am a huge dork.

Anyhow, once he reminded me of that, I canceled my plans to sit at the bar at Grimaldi's drinking a cold Peroni and reading the latest issue of Card Player, and drove through McDonalds instead. Sorry, but chicken nuggets and a fountain Coke just doesn't compare to a coal-oven pizza and a draft beer.

I got home with a few minutes to spare, logged in, and text messaged a couple of the other buffoons and told them to get their asses registered.

The tournament was fun as usual, and I was defending my title well, only donkeying off a few chips to Sticky when she Just. Wouldn't. Fold. her Ace-high nothing hand, and caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. But I think we've played together too much in the past, and she knows when I'm makin' a move, so she enjoyed putting a beat-down on me. But I made it all the way to sixth place, and when the blinds were starting to get a little pricey, I went all in with a pair of nines, and some jackass called with a pair of sevens. Of course he caught a seven on the flop, knocking me out.

But I'm not bitter. Too much. I put my money in action when I had the best of it...

Oh well, at least I outlasted Mohammed, Jugdish, Sidney, and Clayton Terry, Dougie, and Doc Al, so I got that goin' for me, which is nice. I figure, if I can't make it to the money, I can at least derive some satisfaction from outlasting those clowns.

By the way--for those of you who want to put faces to names, here are my main poker opponents that I try a little bit harder to bust every time we get together:

Terry. Don't mess with his samminch, but he always seems willing to share his chips.

Dougie. We've convinced him that tequila makes him a better poker player.

Doc Al. Repeat after me, Doc-- "An Ace is *not* a pair..."

Sticky. Don't let the goofy grin fool ya. At the poker table, she's like a cabbage fart ninja. Silent but deadly.

So those are my peeps. I can't think of a more fun group of people to play poker with. If I could sit around with them every week and drag a few pots, well, life wouldn't be too bad at all.

Anyhow, the tournament was a hoot, if only because of the funny smack talk I see posted up in the chatbox between hands. But it's late now and I'm exhausted--no more poker for me tonight. I'm gonna take a shower and then fall asleep in front of the TV, ignoring my lengthening to-do list for another day.

I was supposed to have Monday off, but that damn bad beat jackpot still hasn't hit (it's up to $326,000 now), so they asked me if I'd be willing to come in and work. I don't really want to--I'd rather catch up on my sleep and clean out the garage--but I just can't pass up the money. Famine will be here soon enough.

Mikey