Addiction

I am seriously addicted to poker. I'm sure you're saying "Yeah, sure, we all are.", but I'll prove it.

My work day begins much like the main character from Office Space, but instead of zoning out for the first hour, I scour the internet for anything that might've been updated. I read every poker blog I can, check 2+2 and RGP and read all of the tournament reports to see who's winning what, and where. I check every damn day. And it's been this way for the last 6 months. On Tuesdays, I eagerly await the update about Signor Ferrari's Monday night home game via Tao of Poker. I don't have a clue who these people are, but it's intrigues me, nonetheless. I keep my fingers crossed that Iggy will make another Uberpost, which will, of course, eat up another 45 minutes of my work day sifting through all the links. On a side note, every time he mentions a "Guinness fueled post", my brain reads it as "Guinness fueled crap". Not that his posts are crappy by any means. Far from it, actually. It's just that I've had some not-so-happy results after drinking a lot of Guinness, so I'm just amazed, not only at his blog, but his intestinal fortitude, as well. Good work, Iggy!

Every night, I go home and check the cable guide to see which channels have poker on. I'll mark them, sift through hand histories with Poker Tracker, and hop on Party Poker until they come on. I've watched every stupid episode of the World Poker Tour, even the reruns. Hell, I've watched all the reruns of reruns. I'll even admit to watching that stupid Celebrity Poker show. Hey, I'm not proud of it, ok? Honestly, I only watched 10 minutes of the one with Scott Stapp on it. I can't stand the guy, and it doesn't help when he says crap like "Man, I'm better than David Cross. He just got lucky." Dude, man, dude...you didn't even have a clue what you were doing! In fact, you had to have Mimi Rogers hold your hand and walk you through while you played. It's a sad, sad world where Mimi Rogers and Scott Stapp are in the same room, let alone playing poker together. I digress.

Last night, though, I had an experience that cemented the fact that Poker consumes me. What's that? Yeah, I realized that I capitalized Poker. Anyhow, last night. My friend, Twanner(short for Anthony, but how, I'm not quite sure), went out for our weekly NTN trivia battle at William's. We finish up at about midnight with the usual outcome-the ass-kicking of Twanner, by yours truly-and head over to Old Chicago because it's karaoke night. Now, for some fucked up reason, the girls in the city go absolutely bonkers for karaoke. I haven't quite pinned down the exact reason, but I think it has to do with alcohol, and lower inhibitions. Color me crazy, I know. We walked into the bar, and there were tons of girls there. Pretty girls, not so pretty girls, drunk girls, painfully sober girls; the bar had them all. Whatever your tastes, there was a girl there for you and that works for me.


We head up to the bar, get a beer, and scan the crowd. The bar area is packed with very little room to move, and I'm one person that's come to appreciate his personal space, so I have to move to a less crowded area. Twanner has to use the bathroom, so we walk over near the restrooms and kill two birds with one stone. And that's when I see it; Late Night Poker is on the tele. Now, I'm not a huge fan of the show, and other than Jesse May's colorful commentary, there isn't much to it. It's all "Pass. Pass. Pass. Pass." and the entertainment value is just not there for me. Picture it, though; I'm in a bar, drinking, with a bunch of girls, who also happen to be drinking. The implied odds of that have to be good, right? Well, no, I'm off in the corner of the bar, by myself, watching a show about poker that I don't really like but, after all, it is poker. And I really like girls. Nice, huh?

Twanner comes back from the bathroom, and we started talking poker strategy. Yes, at the bar. Yes, while there are women within earshot. I'm sure we looked like two real winners, with glassy-eyed gazes affixed to the unspectacular drama unfolding before us, and talking about the value of a check-raise.

The outcome, you ask? Not good. Shortly after the show was done, we called it a night. It's as if our brains said "Welp, poker's over, so it's best we move along. Nothing more to see here".

Yes, I have a problem, and poker is it's name-o.