Yesterday I bee-lined home after work, stripped off my duds, grabbed my flannel and shrugged it on. Some people have comfort food. I have comfort flannel. It didn't matter that it was hotter outside than Rio whore during the WSOP....(just made that one up... I'm so goddamned clever).
It's a flannel shirt friends have actually begged me to get rid of (yes, I still have it). It's comfortable, trashy and I like wearing it. I was pissy... Black mood... feeling rejected by the world all the while knowing that was a lie and my mood was my own damn fault.
I curled up in my chair in the study and logged on for some Party Poker. In only a few hands I was drifting off. Logged off and took a nap in the chair. When I woke up after the power nap, online poker wasn't going to do it for me. Grabbed some cash from my stash and headed for the T-Bird, stopping for a SOBE Adrenaline Rush (sugar free) on the way. I didn't change. I wore my shirt. It matched my attitude - trashy and pissed. I wanted to look some fish in the eye and smirk as I raked in a pot.
There was only one 4/8 table open. The wait was going to be interminable so I reluctantly put my name on the 3/6. They know me by name now, by the way. The reputation is still being crafted.
I watched a 2/5 No-Limit game while I waited. Saw an $800 all-in get called - his KK went down to a flopped straight. The guy had 56. Flop was 478. The guy with the KK was a class act. Congratulated the winner and re-bought.
"Maudie! Table 4!" Bought a rack of whites and slipped into the 5-seat. I was far from feeling sociable, so I kept quiet and just played cards. A few hands in, the guy on my right staked his buddy who sat down in the 9-seat. He was a chatty, loose player. "Don't call me. I have the best hand... I'm telling you I have the best hand.. I have to bet that.. need a red card, dealer..." on and on and on. He, of course, went on a streak and nearly tripled up in a few hands - busting his buddy in the process. Buddy wasn't happy.
I managed to get a couple of pots during all that. The 9-seat left. New dealer sat - Daniel, I think. I said hello and asked him how his evening was going. Don't know why, but I was feeling a kinship with dealers. I didn't want him to be anonymous.
Then
we got a new player in the 2-seat. Had to hold back a laugh. It was the shades.
This was 3/6 limit and we were now facing The Intimidator.
He was a master at the check-call. Cleverly playing J2-off
all the way to the river, apparently on a pair draw. We were all amazed at the
crippling beat he got losing that pot.
I played a hand against him. I had a big Ace. Ace hit the flop. I bet it. The Intimidator called me through the turn. On the river I bet, he folded.
"Did you have it?" he asked, as I raked in the pot. I didn't say anything, just stacked the chips. "What did you have?"
"Two cards."
"Oh, yeah? That what you had?" He said, with a look that indicated he wanted to rip me a new one. I glanced at the the dealer and caught a hint of a smile breaking at the edge of his mouth.
"Yeah, that's what I had," I said as I looked him in the eye. And smirked.
The Intimidator busted soon after that. I left after about 2 hours of playing. I'd doubled my buy-in. Goddamn fucking felt good.
