I have so much to write, so little time.
2011 is winding down and that means a mad dash rush to get enough Total Rewards tier points before the end of the year, so I don’t fall back to the dreaded Gold Card. Mary, at the other end of the spectrum, has that diamond fever which consumed me in early 2010. All of which to say, if it’s a day that ends in y, the Crackhouse crew is driving down the AC Expressway and making the hard left into the Harrah’s self park garage.
In addition to my poker problem, I’ve also developed a diamond club rolls problem.
They are SO delicious that I stuff my face with them AND stuff my pockets. Shh… don’t tell, I don’t want my access revoked prematurely. The last time I drove down with Mary, Alceste stayed behind, with what is either consumption or black plague. So, the whole way down, I played the “are we closer to Alceste or the Rolls.” The title of this game is funnier using Alceste’s real name because alliteration is always hilarious. But then he would cough his germs on me and my puny girl immune system would crumble and I would die.
Traffic was ATROCIOUS, so we spent a good THREE hours being closer to Alceste. There was a lady and the tiger moment when I had to choose the “cars only” side or the “cars and trucks” side. I chose poorly. I watched all the “cars and trucks” people whizzing by and just knew they were rushing to the diamond club to eat all the rolls. Sadly, I was right.
When I finally got to AC, the diamond club was out of rolls. I spent a lonely twenty minutes chewing on dried breadsticks just to get my carbs fix. Upside? The nice diamond lounge ladies said they liked my new haircut and glasses! Downside? I’m in that place so often, the nice diamond lounge ladies notice when I cut my hair and get glasses. Sigh.
It’s been a while (read: 10 days) since that trip, so I don’t exactly remember everything that happened… UGH, though there was some gross ass PDA at my table that I will never be able to unsee, but I know the first night I was up about a hundred after a roller coastery session, but the next morning I got that horrible bad luck dealer woman. After the first few weeks of 2010, when she consistently dealt me the second nuts, I learned my lesson and just got up from the table, whenever she sat down, and took a break. At some point in early 2011, one of the other players at the table said that when I left, the dealer announced “she hates me. Every time I sit in the box, she leaves.” I laughed and thought nothing of it, but a few weeks after that, I was actually sitting at the table (because it was my big blind and I didn’t want to miss the bad beat, if it hit) AND THIS CHICK DEALS ME OUT! I was livid and stormed away for the half. But after that day, I just decided to stick it out and just fold. Then, I got all employed and wasn’t playing at all, so it didn’t matter. Fast forward to last week:
I’m in manic hours racking mode and now that Harrah’s has these strict limitations on walking away from the table, I pretty much just sit there. Devil woman sits in the box. I fold and fold and fold, finally, I decided to give her a try with Kd5d… An awesome diamond Le Dawn. I am Big blind. Button raises to $7… heeey, that’s what *I* was going to do! So, I call. Flop is a beautiful 9d2dKh I check, some dude bets $10, call, call, button raises to $25. I call, everyone else folds. My heart is beating real fast. Turn? 7D! Huzzah! I check. Button bets $40. I raise to $100 putting him all-in. He calls with pocket tens.
I win! I win with devil woman! Oh man! Oh happy day! I win another small pot with her, decide not to push my luck and fold out the rest of her half.
ABOUT ONE HOUR LATER, she’s BACK! But hey, I’m feeling okay. The curse is broken! I have a phat stack! Third hand of her push, I get pocket eights. I call. Then old man raises to $12. Three people ahead of me call, so I call, even though I know devil woman is not giving me a set… Q89. OH. MY. GAWD!! I can’t breathe! Old man bets out $40. I immediately figure he has Kings or Aces and he’s doing the big continuation bet thing to push out the straight drawerers. I see my opportunity to double through him right now, before a scary card comes.
I shove for my whole stack, about $270.
HE INSTA CALLS! I AM DOING THE RUNNING MAN IN MY HEAD!
He flips over his cards and I hear someone say “set.” Hey, how’d they know what I have? I haven’t shown yet! I proudly turn over my hand and I hear the table groan all empathetically.
He has queens.
“Wait? Set over set?” I ask glumly.
“Yes, hon,” devil woman moves his cards closer. Better to see them with your new glasses, the devil woman implies.
She takes all my chips away.
I shoulda known.
I need a roll. Or thirty.