Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Territorial Pissing: Another NYC Home Game
"Don't piss on my back and tell me it's raining." - Coach
Speaking of urine, I dated a girl once who had a pissing fetish. After sex she always wanted me to take a leak on her. Of course all this took place in the shower. I'm not a complete pervert. Who in their right mind pisses on their girlfriend in the middle of the living room?

Oooops, I think I cut and paste a story I was working on for the website: Pissing Tales.

Where was I? Poker. Yeah, poker. Signor Ferrari hosted another game on Monday night. It was a packed house at the Blue Parrot with some familiar faces and some new ones. The bankroll was looking thinner than a strung out model from Prague. I was hoping to build on the last few winning sessions at the Monday night games. Ferrari had on the (yawn) Democratic National Convention in the background. In between hands, I would throw out crude sexual references when both Hillary and Bill spoke. The highlights? None. I dropped $178 in a little over four hours... a losing rate of over $41/hour for you math wizards. In just four hands alone, I lost over $230. You could fly roundtrip from JFK to Vegas right now on Jet Blue for the same amount. I'm lucky I only lost $178. It was one of those nights when my full house lost to quads. I didn't play too bad, even with the usual two or three bonehead plays. I ended up with second best hand most of the night. And it sucked because I was playing tighter than ever. And the only few times I won pots were in Omaha hi/lo.
The Players:
Seat 1: Asphnxma from Riding the F Train
Seat 2: Adam (late arrival)
Seat 3: Joel
Seat 4: Signor Ferrari
Seat 5: Nicholas
Seat 6: Charlie (late arrival)
Seat 7: Ugarte (late, late arrival after his stand-up gig)
Seat 8: Coach
Seat 9: Dr. Pauly
Find out what happened... here.

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