Aw, so sweet

When I told Mr. WPY that I would have to get a security clearance if my new job prospect materialized, his immediate reaction was to offer to serve as a reference for me, if I wanted.

I was both amused and touched. I bit my tongue and refrained from mentioning the several high-powered establishment professionals whom I've known for decades who will be happy to vouch for me.

He really is a nice guy.

Well

A. I am a little bit tipsy. Three neat shots of Jack Daniels will do that to a girl.

B. I took second in my A league. I rule.

C. There was the following conversation, after Mr. WPY busted out early and yet lingered around me:

"Do you want to get together later this week?" (Me.)

"Oh. I can't. I've got my hotel opening this week. But next week." (Him.)

"Give me a holler." (Me.)

"I'll give you a holler." (Him.)

He better fucking give me a holler. The ball is now blatantly in his court. I have done my part.

D. I gave Mr. Forearms a brief backrub (which I say with all due modesty I am very good at). He is scared of me. HIS LOSS.

E. Previously mentioned buff boy hit on me again. I gave him reason to hope. He is a gifted toucher and hey, I could use a little touching.

F. That which is forbidden becomes that much more desirable. If I'm going to get a security clearance, I must strictly eschew all illegal drugs. I don't do illegal drugs. Ever. But the moment they became strictly and forever out of bounds, I wished I could dabble. I won't, of course. So I got a little tipsy and I smoked a couple of cigarettes instead. (Regular smokers forget the effect that nicotine can have on the unhabituated. Major body and head rush. Very pleasurable.)

G. One of these boys is gonna give it up to me in the next month. It will either be Mr. WPY, or it will be Mr. Forearms, or it will be Buff Boy, or it will be Mr. Actuary (about whom I haven't written much, if anything). I am sick of sitting around in solitary splendor. Attention must be paid. And one of these guys is going to provide the requisite wherewithal. I'm just saying. First come, first served.

We interrupt this increasingly poker-oriented blog...

...to bring you potentially life-changing news.

I just had an astonishingly brief, yet apparently effective job interview. (I think when the bossman shakes your hand at the end and says "Welcome aboard!" you are entitled to consider that it has gone well.)

There are still hurdles to jump. For one thing, the prospective employer has to actually get the government contract. And then I have to *gulp* actually obtain a security clearance.

But if those two things happen, there is a very high degree of probability that I will be gainfully employed within a month or so.

Talk about 0 to 60 in 60 seconds or less!

But wait! There's a poker angle! The only reason I ever heard about this job is because I play poker with one of the program managers.

Poker networking FTW!!!

So confused

Oh my god, I am so confused.

This evening I sat to Mr. WPY's right for all the time I played (which unfortunately wasn't very long, as I had another bad run), and the vibe coming off him was so hot it was like sitting next to an electric heater. When we weren't playing, it seemed as if he followed me from one end of the room to the other.

We continue to have snatches of fascinating conversation.

This is starting to make me crazy. (Starting? This has long since made me crazy.)

I think I'm going to try the following: "Hey, I have an idea. Let's get together over a meal and talk about everything BUT poker. What do you say?"

Fuck the poker. I can find someone else to talk poker with if I have to.

(God knows if I'll actually have the nerve to do this. But I sort of hope I do.)

Oops, he did it again!

I was in a deep slumber when I heard my cell phone ring in the other room. I stumbled out of bed to go answer it, because my sister has been in a bad way the last several days, and I wanted to make sure to answer if it were she.

Which it was not.

It was he.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Um. Sort of."

"Dude, it's 10:30! Were you up really late playing?"

"Yes. But I was victorious!"

"Well, that's all that counts, then."

I climbed back into bed. There ensued a conversation about poker logistics, in which I confirmed that I would play tonight's game. I'm likely to see him there. He could have learned all this from the evite.

But now he already knows what my voice sounds like when I first wake up. (Cheater.)

Winning is more fun than losing

Fortunately, I won tonight. Free pub poker, I took away first prize and some free money. I do not feel in the slightest bit guilty that I beat out an 85 year old woman, a former blackjack expert, to do it either. Hey, she drubbed everyone BUT me, and was the massive chip leader when we went heads up.

Free money is, let's face it, is the very best kind of money.

Okay, maybe the money you give away to needy people is the best kind of money. Free money is the SECOND BEST kind of money. But I'll take it!

Tomorrow is my Main Event satellite. Wish me luck.

Variance Is Beating Me Like A Drum

Wow, have I been losing. I'm mean LOSING. Losing! Loserama time!

It's been ugly ugly ugly, this downswing. I'm watching with disbelief as my made hands get destroyed over and over. The one card in the deck my opponents need? They get it. Guaranteed.

Blech.

50 -> 400

Through a combination of winnings and various bonuses, I have turned my initial $50 deposit into more than $400.

Despite the fact that this is ~ objectively ~ peanuts, and that if you reckoned the hourly wage I'm earning for my time there'd be some child laborer in Bangladesh getting better paid, I am inordinately proud of this achievement.

I had originally planned to build up to $500 and then move up in stakes again. I think, however, that I would be wise to postpone the next step up until I reach $600. I've experienced enough swings at the current level to inspire a certain level of caution over the prospect of the next increase.

I am absolutely convinced that I can continue this steady progress if I continue to exercise Bankroll Discipline FTW. From little acorns mighty oaks do grow.

Gorgeous Weather, Loose Ends

I have so much to do, and so much of it is deeply unpleasant or uninteresting, that I am entirely unmotivated to get started on any of it. I'm sitting outside of my local Starbucks thinking about all the stuff I'm currently not doing.

While detrimental to my self-esteem, no doubt, it is strangely both relaxing and anxiety-provoking.

How on earth am I ever going to manage having a regular job again? I have completely lost track of what it means to be a productive member of society.

Bankroll Discipline, For The Win!

As you may recall, I recently moved up in stakes. I'm now playing the $5+.50 SNGs on 'Stars. Things started out pretty rocky at the new level, but the last bunch of games have definitely gone my way. I'm also currently playing only one table at a time (mostly) at this level, as I make any needed adjustments.

BRAG: My 'roll is now over $300. The bigger stakes make for bigger swings as well as bigger potential profits, but the lower rake contributes to a better ROI.

BRAG: I just qualified for one of the weekly WSOP freerolls. All I have to do is beat a gajillion other people some Saturday and I win a package to the Main Event. How hard can it be??? (so j/k).

At the moment: Poker... +1.
Everything else: Meh.

What I Wish I'd Said

My cell phone rings. I'm outside, walking down the street. I fumble the phone out of my purse. Despite the glare on the screen I can make out that it's Mr. WPY. For some reason, I decide to pretend I don't know who it is.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he says.

"I'm sorry, who is this? It's too bright out for me to see the caller ID."

"It's [Mr. WPY]."

"Oh hi! What's up?"

"You're supposed to know telepathically it's me. "

"My bad, I'll work on that."

"You could at least give me my own ringtone."

"That's an idea."

What I wish I'd said: "You're going to have to call me a lot more often if you want your own ringtone, buddy!"

All he wanted to know was what time tonight's game was. Sigh.

Mixing it up

I'm glad I have a variety of poker outlets.

I play free pub poker games. I play tournaments in two different home leagues (I call them the A and B leagues both because I started in the A league first, and because I think the overall quality of play is better there.) I play cash in a bunch of home games. I play online on two different sites (FullTilt and PokerStars). And although mostly I play no limit hold'em, I'm splashing about in Razz and Omaha a bit too.

From time to time I go to a casino, either AC or Vegas generally, and play in both tournaments and cash games.

The variety is useful in a couple of ways. If I'm running bad in one context, I frequently find that's offset by running good or at least okay in another. Adjusting to new environments, new people, and new games keeps my brain limber and my observational faculties primed and sharp.

And, let's be honest: it's not just the variety. It's the sheer quantity that's great. I can get a game whenever I want one.

Tax Hell

Ugh. My Dad's. Mine.

The paper. The money. The horror.

The old saying...

"Lucky in cards, unlucky in love." ~ Well, maybe there's some truth to it.

I've been having a nice little run of luck in my pub games, finishing second and first recently. My social life, however, is flaming wreckage. (I can't bear to discuss the latest details of the debacle. Maybe later.)

On the other hand, since I moved up in stakes on PokerStars, it's been one catastrophically bad situation after another. Lose lose lose lose lose. Mostly on the bubble. I hate poker.

So maybe my social life is due for a turnaround?

The Ferguson Falls Before Me!

I finally won the Ferguson.

And it only *cough* took 5 hours and 19 minutes.

And it was Razz.

But still! I won the Ferguson! I am queen of the universe!

And now, next time I meet Chris Ferguson I can tell him I won his namesake tourney. How cool is that! (Maybe he should be intimidated by me! As if. :D )

And if you want to see what life is like for women who play poker, check out the delightful reception I got when I posted in the 2+2 forums about my success.

This response actually made me laugh:



[Oh, and I also cashed in the Midnight Madness tournament. Fear me, people!]

Movin' on Up!

Here we go, people. On to the $5 games. Big stakes, baby!
(Heh.)

At Least One

Well, I established a couple of things this evening.

1. I am still a damned good poker player. (I took second in my B League, and would have won except for an ill-timed encounter with pocket aces.)

2. SOME people find me quite attractive, thank you very much. Some buff, handsome, and charming young men, to be precise. Well, okay, at least ONE such creature.

It is with great personal satisfaction that I report having been the object of a very delightful seduction attempt this evening. This is a guy I've seen on the scene for months, and with whom I've always had a cheerful flirtatious interaction. He put the full court press on tonight, and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Some people have a gift for touching without being threatening or obnoxious, always just the near side of too much or too presumptuous. He is one such person, and it was truly a pleasure to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention.

He made it clear that more (much more) was available, should I wish it. And yes, I was definitely tempted. (But, you know, maybe another time. Or not.)

All I can say is: Ha! SOME people don't know what they're missing. SOME people are failing to perceive the possibilities right before their eyes. What a shame. What a waste. What a pity.

But folks, I am here to say ~ whatever rumors to the contrary I may perpetuate to my own detriment ~ I still got it, baby. And phooey on those fools who fail to appreciate it.

The Cupcake of Despair

It should have been a great night. I overcame my fangirl nerves, shook Andy Bloch's hand (he's surprisingly tall) and actually asked Chris Ferguson (surprisingly not all that tall) a poker strategy question. I was hanging out with Mr. WPY and I was happy.

The event itself proved to be something of a dud, but the two of us and a couple of other poker cronies were all keyed up to play. Mr WPY offered to host an impromptu cash game at his place. We all made phone calls and managed to put a group together in about 45 minutes (man, I know a bunch of degenerates).

He has my favorite poster of all time in his bedroom (I hadn't seen it before), the Taittainger champagne lady in yellow behind the tulip glass. I saw that and I thought: "It's so meant to be!"

Wrong.

I was hungry, and he fed me the cupcake of despair.

It was an innocuous looking yellow cupcake with chocolate frosting. "It looks homemade," I observed.

"It is," he affirmed.

And with that, I realized the jig was up.

Needless to say, this is not a man who produces baked goods. So where does this homemade cupcake come from? From the previous reliable purveyor of oven goodies, no doubt.

There was no vibe last night. None. I'm toast.

Nada

Nothing. Not gonna happen.

Crap.

Time to regroup.

The Dream

"Have you ever had a lucid dream?"

"A what?" he asks.

"You know, a dream where you know you're dreaming."

"I guess."

"I had a dream like that the other night. You were in it."

"Really?"

"Yes." I say. "I remember reading about how to have a lucid dream. You're supposed to remind yourself, as you fall asleep, to look at your hand. Then, if you remember to look at your hand in a dream, you can realize you're dreaming."

"Have you ever done that?"

"In this dream, you and I were having an involved conversation about something. Maybe it was poker. But the unusual thing was, we were also holding hands." I swallow. "That's how I knew it was a dream."

He takes my hand. "Are you dreaming now?"

"Yes."