Steffi had a Jimmy Buffett pre-concert Caribbean-themed party that I attended with my siblings, and cocktails were served. And of course Sherry and Cyndi made sure that we all had costumes. Here's mine:
Now I know that a few of my detractors and trolls will be saying Damn that fat guy sure sweats a lot!, but believe me, that isn't sweat--it was raining so hard at the time that this photo captures how wet I got while scurrying from the truck to the front door--and I was wearing a fleece jacket, too! All that rain water soaked through in the ten seconds it took me to hustle the thirty feet from the driveway to the living room! It was like running under a waterfall.
Anyhow...
I've had a pretty damn dull week, truth be told. Last Sunday, there wasn't one suitable casino job listed in the paper, but I managed to do a whole bunch of online applications for a few jobs. Unfortunately, I've not heard back from any of them yet--it's a buyer's market here in the Neon Detroit, and unless you know somebody, interviews and auditions are very scarce. I think I'm gonna give it another few weeks of looking, but if I don't find something soon, I'll probably load up the truck and go be a bum back in Tennessee. That's what the family is rooting for, but believe me, I'd rather stay put. We'll see...
Since I've got nothing else going on, I've been playing a lot of poker. I've been mostly grinding away at the 4-8 limit games, making about $300 this week. I'd rather be playing no-limit, as I seem to do much better at that, but right now I'm taking it very easy with the bankroll. I played an epic 18-hour session on Friday-Saturday, but I never got more than $80 ahead or $35 behind. Talk about a grind.
But I still need another five hours of play during graveyard hours at Sunset Station by Tuesday morning at 9:00 am to qualify for their graveyard free-roll tournament next week. Basically, they were trying to drum up business at night by offering a free-roll, but you had to get 75 hours of play on the books in six weeks--much tougher than you can imagine. Right now, there are only eight people with a legitimate shot of making the tourney, and one of the guys is gonna be out of town. The prize pool is $3000, so I've talked to a couple of the other guys, and we're probably just gonna chop it up--If all of us make it, it's still over $400 apiece. So I've got to get down there and play again tonight to make sure I have enough hours in before the deadline.
After my 18-hour grind, where I basically just broke even, I came home and slept like I was dead. I woke up at 1:30 this morning (Sunday) and called down to the poker room to see if they had a game. They did, but by the time I got down there, it was pretty weak. However, I played for about an hour and a half before the table broke and managed to scoop a $105 win for my effort. Amazing huh? I couldn't win a damn thing in 18 hours, but then I go back eight hours later and win a c-note before I finished my second drink.
But I've been involved in some great games this week. One night, a kid lost over a thousand dollars at my table playing 4-8 limit! Do you have any idea how hard it is to be that bad? It was such a juicy game--and not only that, there were a couple of other dumbasses in the game, too. AC was working the floor that night, and eyeballing the stacks, we figured that there was more than $4500 in chips on the table--that's on a game where most people buy in for less than a hundred bucks!
I was playing on Saturday afternoon, sitting in my lucky seat #3 at my favorite table, and there was an old dude in the game who comes in a couple of times a month. The guy is 100 years old--no exaggeration--and can't hear shiat, but he's still got all his marbles upstairs. Or so I thought. At one point, in the middle of the game, he just stood up, reached down the front of his pants, spent several seconds adjusting the package, and then pulled his hand out and sat back down again like nothing happened. Everyone was looking at each other with that same dumbfounded WTF just happened??? look on their faces. It was pretty gross.
Luckily, or unluckily, for me, on that very hand I had my pocket Aces cracked and lost a sizable pot to somebody with pocket Tens who hit their two-outer, so I hit the ripcord and called it a day. No need to stick around and get any of the chips that had century-old ball funk on them, so I made a quick escape. I'm pretty sure that was the poker gods way of telling me that it was time to go, anyways.
I'm gonna spend the rest of my Sunday afternoon and evening cleaning the house and doing chores. My sister Cyndi arrives tomorrow morning for a week-long business trip, and she's coming over first thing. We're gonna go out for brunch before she heads off to do her thing for a few days, then on Thursday night she's got a rezzie back here in Henderson at a nearby hotel so that we can hang out and goof off before she heads back to Tennessee on Friday. I have fully prepared myself for the come-back-to-Nashville pitch, which I normally would stoically refuse to listen to, but the longer I go unemployed, the more chinks there are in the armor.
Talk to y'all later!
Mikey
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