Poker > Sex (a.k.a. How One Develops a Gambling Addiction)

I was planning on writing a different entry tonight but now I want to write about how I just tripled my money in a cash game of poker and now I am really really really really really really happy. So instead I'm going to write about how awesome poker is.. or more specifically how awesome winning at poker is.

Winning at poker feels so good that it makes you feel high for at least 24 hours if not more. I would say the only good feeling that lasts longer is having an obsessive crush on someone, but that always ends badly. The feeling of winning at poker never goes sour. Even if you lose the next time you play (we'll get to that later), that's a totally different game and you can compartmentalize it in a completely separate place from your winning at poker feeling, which you can bottle up and make last forever.

Because you only have to win one time at poker to have that feeling can last you through several bad games. You can always justify losing, and chalk up winning to your skills and cunning. Of course for most people that's not true. Luck has a lot to do with it. The very best poker players are so skilled that they barely need to rely on luck at all, but for everyone in the tier of poker I play in (which is most poker players), well most of us are just about the same.. some a little better than others, but anyone can win a poker game just as easily as we can all lose one.

But winning feels so good that you completely forget about the mistakes you made and focus on how well you played those few hands that earned you $40 (not exactly high stakes poker). That high can carry you through all of the shitty hands you played when you were getting frustrated and went all in with a pair of 7s just to scare someone off who then they took all your money because they had three queens and it was obvious to everyone but you.

And when you lose at poker... well it feels rather humiliating. It is a pride-killing blow, especially if you are under the impression that you are a great poker player and not, like the rest of us, merely lucky every once in a while.

Whenever I lose at poker I replay each of the mistakes I made, particularly the last one, and try to justify my actions. The process starts with "No, that was a really smart play. The odds were in your favor. You had to call, you had him beat until the end. It was just luck you should have won that hand" and then turns into "you would have spent that $20 on drinks if you hadn't played poker. You'll just not buy groceries tomorrow to make up for it, you can live on rice for a few days can't you?"

And what makes the difference between those two feelings is usually something so small. Your entire disposition can be drastically altered by just these one or two cards.

Tonight that card was a 9. I was up by ten dollars in what we had determined was the second-to-last hand. I got pocket Jacks and then the flop showed three cards lower than mine, 10, 8, 7. I was betting against one of my friends and it was quickly escalating. Another 8 came out on the turn. I thought I had it in the bag. There was no way he had a third 8 with all that betting. I went all in.

And then he called. At this point I was shaking uncontrollably because that is what I do when I bet money (even if I think I'm going to win a hand). Evolution failed me with that trait.

My friend flipped his cards. Pocket Queens.

The difference between going home with nothing and going home with triple the money I started with rested on one card. I could only win if I flipped a Jack (trip Jacks) or a 9 (straight). My friend flipped the next card, and there was the 9.

Unless you are also a poker addict I'm not sure I can describe how good you feel when that happens. It's like a mixture of relief, shock and unbelievable exuberance. I've never done heroine or cocaine or extacy, but I can't imagine how any of them can make you feel as good as it felt to see that 9 flip.

And I was playing well before that. I had stayed in and slowly accumulated cash and I would have been fine going home with what I had before I got those pocket Jacks. And if I had lost all my money I would have stared off into space the entire ride home, trying to tell myself that it was not a stupid call - I made the right decision and I could not have known he had pocket Queens; I am a good poker player and I will win money next time... and none of it would have made me feel better.

And the probability of that card coming up was SO unbelievably slim.

But it did.. I didn't lose. I won. And I am so fucking happy.
Even if it was just because of a little luck.

Crazy Book

I keep a diary. I do this because if I didn't keep a diary I would probably turn into a crazy person.

About 99.2% of the time when one of my friends finds out I have a diary they ask "ooooh can I read it!?" And the answer is no. No, you cannot read it, and that goes for everyone. It isn't as if there are any secrets in there. I'm not badmouthing my friends behind their backs and three-way calling them with their boyfriends on the other line (at least not since I was twelve years old). I tell my friends what is going on with me for the most part. I tell different people different things based on how well I know them and what I usually talk to them about.

It's not like that. My diary is not full of secrets. It's full of crazy.

My diary is where I unleash crazy me. I don't like to get angry in front of people. I don't like to get sad in front of them. I generally do not like sharing any emotions with people aside from happy and giggles. Sometimes I get a bit emo and quiet but that's as bad as it gets. And that means that I tend to develop some pent up anger. I get rid of it in two ways: I either rant to close friends (pretty mild stuff), or I write in my diary (crazytown).

I do not want these diaries handed down to posterity. I might keep them with me so I can read them again when I'm older and have a good laugh, but if I ever suspect that I might be about to die, I'm going to burn them all. Diary me is crazy, irrational and almost the complete opposite of real life me. Diary me talks about boys almost 100% of the time. Diary me has filled up almost an entire book with entries about one guy... not once, but twice (2 different guys, at least I'm not that crazy).

Real life me is ashamed of diary me. I want to slap diary me across the face and yell, "GET IT TOGETHER, WOMAN!" But alas, if diary me didn't exist then I wouldn't be a rational, well-rounded person.

Everyone has a little crazy in them. Some of us want to share it with the world and some of us make a conscious decision not to. I don't really understand why some people choose to rant about ex-boyfriends on public online forums, but the rant itself... not too unusual. All I'm saying is if you don't think you have some crazy in you then you are probably the biggest crazy you know.

In any case, I'm not very well represented in these books. I once made the stupid decision of letting a couple of my friends read one in middle school. Actually one of my friends stole the diary from out of my room and I caught her with it when I was over at her house one day and this piece of paper slipped out that I knew had stashed in my diary and then we got into a big fight... my life was so much more exciting back then. Anyway it did not turn out well - they each finished the book and looked up at me with an expression of horror that I wasn't really expecting. I just hadn't given any of the entries a second read. Little did I know that this is where I had been hiding all of my most disturbing, embarrassing qualities for years.

Still, although it doesn't really represent me the way I want it to - I have other things that I'd rather have people read to get an idea of who I am - my crazy book is really important for my well-being. At the end of every crazy rant I do usually come to some rational conclusions, and that is what everyone else sees; not a stable, level-headed person, but the end result of hours and hours of crazy exhausted on paper so I can go about my regular life like a sane person.

My Creativity is 100% Borrowed

So I have decided to start writing again and I have changed my blog layout... mostly because I have been reading this blog by Allie Brosh nonstop for the past week or so. She is very funny and lot more talented than me. But that's what almost always inspires me to start writing again. Usually I read another blog and thing "OMG this is funny! I should do this!" Then I copy people.

Except no one reads my blog so it's ok.

Well, whatever I'm going to keep writing it anyway. Right now I'm starving and I haven't eaten anything because I went running and when I got back I spent about 3 hours on Paint making my cool heading.

P.S. My heading is really cool. If you will notice it features all kinds of characters form my blog: South Park me playing Mario Galaxy on Wii and eating a cheeseburger (a McDonalds double triple cheeseburger probably), my cat May (who is not mentioned in the blog but I will write about her eventually because she's mean as shit), evil Mario plant, BTK killer, and thanksgiving turkey that gets slaughtered by Sarah Palin (loose interpretation)

Snack attack.