Half Asleep in Frog Pyjamas

I can't even begin to explain how buried in work I've been this week. It goes without saying that I've never been this swamped by work before. The fact of the matter is, I'm not certain my work has ever interfered significantly with my social life before. When I told my boss that he laughed, and those of you with actual careers are probably doing the same, but this is the first job I've had where the "opportunity for advancement" didn't mean shifts assigned by seniority. It makes me wonder if I'm really cut out for this whole "real job" thing. I don't think I really excel at the sort of long-term thinking that makes a typical career very likely. On the other hand, I can't go back to waiting tables. It's too late for that now, was too late for that the first time I got a $100 tip. Among all my other addictions, I'm addicted to money as well -- after all, I'm living in a material world, and I am a material girl. And money is one of my few addictions that's still socially acceptable.

All of which just illustrates the necessity that I take some time off to hone my poker skills. I was pretty excited tonight when I finally had enough time to sit down in my pj's for some quality time with my laptop again. I've played for a few minutes here and there throughout the week, but this was my first opportunity to really play with my winnings from the tournament last Sunday, so I found a juicy .25/.50 table on PokerStars and waited for the blind to come around.

Of course, nothing ever goes as planned... it's a hell of a notion. While I watched one guy at the table call down two raises with king-high, my friend R called. R was good friends with my first roommate after I dropped out of college, and she's just sort of "hung around" ever since. Not that I don't love her, of course, but she's the sort of person that strangers will eventually kiss, just to shut her up. Every few months I get a call, either because she's forgotten the band that did that one CD or because she just saw a movie on TV that we saw together six years ago or... well, you get the idea.

Tonight was neither of those, however. Actually, I really thought that R had been the first to commit a breach of the unspoken ethics that surrounds my relationships with most of my "old friends" these days. Secretly I was glad, but I acted a little shocked when she asked if I knew how to get ahold of X. Of course, I'm not supposed to, but I do still know how. My naughty little brain just keeps track of stuff like that, files it under Important even if I don't want it to. Anyway, I acted bit cagey with R, just in case she was checking up on me or something, but the further into the conversation, the less sense she made. When I pleaded ignorance, she asked if another mutual friend A might know. Now A was never really into that scene, and that seemed an odd choice of people to metion.

"WTF?" I exclaimed. "Why would A know?"

"Well, he is her brother."

I admit it took my a good thirty seconds (and probably a few embarrassing sentences) before I figured out what should have been obvious right there. She was trying to get ahold of A's brother Ed. Should've been obvious from the first; R calls me for lost phone numbers far more often that for drugs anyway, as often she's the hookup for the latter and incapable of keeping the former. Anyway, that straightened out, I convinced her I had no idea and got off the phone.

Due to the confusion, I'd been distracted when the blind came around and clicked to sit in on auto-pilot. I was also on the phone when I saw the flop for free and near-free in the big and small blinds with absolute trash and folded to the first bet I saw. When I finally managed to free myself from the conversation, I woke up 15c down, having just called with a Q6o from the button. Not normally a call I'd make with four players in the flop plus the blinds to come, but well... still not terrible from the button at least. Small and big blinds both stay in and the flop comes A84 with two hearts. As the table is checking around to me, my brain is frantically trying to recall small details of what happened while I was on the phone. I'd hoped to uncover some clue whether I'd managed to look tight or just stupid when I'd mucked the two last ones. Unfortunately, no details had escaped the black hole of R's conversation, so when the bet came to me I spun my wheels for a moment before putting out the 25c flop bet.

I expected to have to fold to a raise, one of these players must have an A or a flush draw, but instead saw three folds and three calls. It occurred to me that one of the three might be slow-playing two pair to keep extra players in, even though there was a flush draw. But what were the other two on? Ed... er, X?

The turn was a blank, the 10c or something. Again it checked around to me, but this time I'd lost my nerve. There were too many players, one of them would call me down, I could almost smell it. I checked so fast that thought they were at a hockey game for a second.

The river was an 8h, and my mouse drifted as if of it's own accord towards the location of the inevitable fold button. That made the top half of the drawing hands out there. Which, it occurred to me, is about as good an idea of my cards as these guys could possibly have. "She could have any of those drawing hands for that flop bet," they were thinking as they checked around to me. It was so clear I could almost read it in chat.

I stuck 50c in the pot confidently this time, and the folds were done in the blink of my eyes. "Hmm," I thought. "Tight table. Tight, and rather unlucky."

Of course, I went on to lose my whole stack over the next three hands. AT to AJ (Ace up + J kicker), KK to Q8o (Qs and 8s with an A), and KK (again, next hand, really) to AA on a flop of QJT. The poker gods are capricious, rewarding good play but punishing good cards. They're almost as bad as that G-d character everybody is always talking about.

Okay, that's it, I have a presentation at 10am and there's only so much coffee I can drink between when I wake up and then. Tomorrow (or this weekend for sure) on Diary of a Poker Slut: At least two stupid PokerTracker questions, my next installment of My Poker Heroes, and pining for Las Vegas. Plus: Viewer Mail. Don't miss it! :-)