Off for the weekend

Last night I returned after an over-long hiatus, to my regular Thursday night game. It was great fun as always and reminded me why I love playing so. And the best part of the evening was when I looked at my hole cards and saw the 7-9 of hearts.

I often choose a "bad" hand to play with all night -- meaning that it's a hand that if I played strictly by the books, I would always fold (unless I was unraised in the big blind) -- but that I decide to play to randomize my style. For a while it was K-3, but now I'm changing night to night. Since I had just written about the 7-9, I had picked it. Now, when I get this hand, I play it like it was Aces. I raise before the flop. I raise after the flop. Last night the flop came 10-10-5, with one heart, giving me exactly nothing. But I bet it like I held the 10 and eventually, everyone folded to me. I knew, I knew none of them had a 10. It was great. It was a pretty exciting night, hand-wise, though, with full houses beating lesser full houses more than once. I beat 8's full of Aces (888aa) with Aces full of 8's (aaa88), then later saw Aces full of Jacks beat Aces full of Tens. Now that's a bad beat.

And I left a winner to the tune of $67. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I'm off to a place without the Internet this weekend so I can get some serious work done on the book. Wish me luck.

“Do you still believe in luck?”

Today, after sending a congratulatory e-mail about the book to me, the ex-boyfriend I went to Vegas with sent me another. It said, simply, “P.S. Do you still believe in luck?”

He and I are still friends, and I remembered the debate we had over my baffling belief in luck, despite the fact that I’m an atheist. I was impressed with the fact he remembered, so I’m going to answer.

From Dictionary.com:

Luck, noun
1. The chance happening of fortunate or adverse events; fortune: They met one day out of pure luck.
2. Good fortune or prosperity; success: We wish you luck.
3. One's personal fate or lot: It was just my luck to win a trip I couldn't take.

I know that much of luck is perception. I know that it’s unlikely that you’d flip a coin and have it come up heads 6 times in a row. That would seem lucky, if I had bet it. But if you flipped a coin a million times the chances are far slimmer that in those million tosses, there would never be 6 heads in a row. And that luck breeds luck often because when one good thing happens, you’re more confident, happier, people like you more, more good things happen and it builds on itself.

But I also feel like I have been extremely lucky in my life at certain moments. Like if I bet on that coin to land its 7th heads in a row, I have a better chance now than I ordinarily would. It makes no sense.

It happens too in poker – going back to being on a rush, what makes you feel lucky is not just getting hand after hand of good cards, but that you stay in for the one after the cards stopping coming all Aces and paint, on some unsuited rags like 7-9, that you play just because you had a good day July 9th, and what the hell, you're on a rush! And the flop comes down 9-9-7. It’s flabbergasting. It’s when you start thanking the Poker gods, just in case.

I’ve read theories that there might be an evolutionary reason that people are prone to faith. That an ability to imagine a higher power to make sense of what they did not helped those humans survive. A genetic code that builds our brains with a “god” part.

I believe this world is pretty much it. But I also like to believe that things happed for a reason and maybe my belief in luck comes from that part of the brain.

All I know is sometimes you can’t explain everything. So yes, right now I feel lucky. We’ll see how I do at the game on Thursday. In the end, does it matter if I win because I’m truly lucky or because I believe I am?

5 PM Tuesday in LA

Is the hot time to call new clients in Hollywood 5 pm? Two of the agents who I expected to hear from and one I didn't just called. How odd and cool.

I guess I have to book my flight to LA.

Poker Class

Thanks to all the ladies who came to the women's poker class at Hope & Union. I think it was a definite success. It was really helpful for me to see when I was talking over people's heads and what I needed to learn to explain better. You forget after you get immersed in this world that not everyone knows words like "ante" "check" and the difference between calling and raising. And you've gotta get that stuff down before you can start talking about bluffing and position. And I think everyone learned something :).

Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to host another class until after I turn in the book -- I was just talking to someone in Atlantic city at the Taj about touring the poker facilities and so on, and she asked when I was planning the trip. I said, not this weekend but the next and she said, so August 7th, then? Holy shit! August 7th is the weekend after next! So so much to do before then.

For instance, fix the keyboard on my computer. Which is what I'm waiting and waiting to get done right now at Tekserve in Chelsea. I'm glad the nice people here have computers for me to use while I wait. Cause I can't waste time!

I will start doing the classes again in late September and my plan for the next one is to do it Holdem only. It's what I can teach the best.

Tonight, another night of poker -- this time meeting a women pro based here in NYC. I'm going to be testing out my iTalk attachment for my iPod to record the interview -- hopefully it'll work.

Meanwhile, noone's calling any numbers at all here at the speedy Tekserve. I may be here a while. Crap.

Casino Gambling

I've spent part of today trying to plan a trip to LA and Vegas and reading Casino Player Magazine. I'd forgotten how insane Vegas is -- I remember when I went in 1996, my basic summary of the place was: Disneyland for Adults. One of my favorite spectacles at the time was Treasure Island, where the boat sank in front of the Casino every half-hour and the victorious pirates shouted Yar! Come on in and spend all ye gold coins.



The whole place is sort of surreal. Everywhere we went, me and my then-boyfriend kept getting accosted by people offering to marry us. Eating dinner: You guys are so cute! We have a chapel you know! No? What about dessert? Ice cream? With a cherry on top? And maybe a ring? Just the cherry then. Maybe it was because I was a bleach blonde then. Yes, it looked awful.



Today, I've learned that there's swim-up blackjack at the Tropicana, and get this -- soon there'll be a monorail. I thought that was more of a Shelbyville idea.

But I'm looking forward to the trip. I also spent some time today in between writing and reading watching Owning Mahoney, which is based on a real guy who stole a lot of potatoes from Canadian banks, only to lose it all gambling. It was a hard movie to watch -- I always cringe when I watch a movie where you just know the character is going to fuck up everything horribly. It's easy to see how a gambling problem escalates though -- and frightening.

I'm not immune -- I mean, a lot of the movie took place in Atlantic City, and one of the other reactions I had to this movie is: Hmmm... I should probably check that place out.

Acknowledgements

If you read this blog for more than maybe 2 or 3 seconds, you might notice that I love my friends and I think they're great. Well, they are. That's just the truth. A funny thing that my friend Amanda called me on is that before I even started on the first chapter, I began composing my acknowledgements page. I'm outrageously excited to be able to put down in print my heartfelt thanks. Yeah, fuck it, I'm going for total corn here. I've put down an application for permanent-resident status in Happy Land, in a gumdrop house on Lollipop Lane!

Two that got added to the page just yesterday:

When I heard from Plan B studios, I felt panicked and out of my depth. I turned to my friends and family friends for help, one of whom, Marilyn gave me some really great advice which calmed me considerably.

Later, I talked to my friend Vanessa, who writes for (ironically) the show Las Vegas. She's going to talk to her agent for me, and had the very sage advice to think about what I want. Do I want to sell my novel? Do I want to write the screenplay for this nebulous, based-on-a-thin-premise book? Do I want to write articles for magazines? Sell my short-story collection?

It's an incredible opportunity and I'm planning on spending some serious time this weekend thinking about what, in an ideal world, I'd like to come of this. Also writing. I have to get back to writing. I have less than 30 days now for the first half. I'll be putting in my application for dual residency in Panic Land on "I Loathe Myself" Way shortly, I imagine.

Oh, and also I'm going to be talking to someone from NPR or something about my dating experiences on Salon.com's personals. This has gone beyond ridiculous. But I guess the lesson here is, if you keep putting yourself out there, eventually something may come of it.

On a rush

In poker, when you hit a real winning streak, you say you're on a rush. It's a great feeling when you keep getting great cards hand after hand, and watch your chips multiply. You can't believe your luck.

Well, sometimes this happens in life, too -- and I'm riding it. After I agreed to the contract yesterday, I guess someone at Adam's Media posted it on some kind of Books-under-contract/in-progess list or Web site like Publisher's Marketplace.

I had no idea this existed, but I guess film people do, because before I left work, I had received the first email from an interested film company. I was, to put it mildly, excited. All I've written so far is the table of contents and a single chapter and already the film people are coming? I thought. This is INSANE. It's non-fiction. There's no plot. Which is a good thing since I was never good at plot.

But then this morning I came into the office and found a voicemail waiting. Its content can best be described by the subject of its accompanying email:

FW: BAD ASS GIRL'S GUIDE TO POKER / Plan B Entertainment (Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston, Brad Grey)

That's right. Brad Pitt's (and his wife, whatever) production company is interested in obtaining the film rights to my "Book." If my work-in-progess is gathering this kind of attention, I can only imagine the film frenzy over some of the others. I mean, hello? TV's Ginger's book? Bank.

Anyway, when I heard the news, I basically lost my shit at work. So much so that I sort of crumpled to the floor, hysterically laughing and crying, loud enough that a co-worker asker if I was okay. I assured her I was Uber-fucking-tastic. That's not a direct quote. I wasn't that eloquent.

I have no idea if anything will happen with this, but it's safe to say it's amazing.

And um, while I was writing this, I just got an e-mail from someone at New York magazine. I'm talking to a reporter tomorrow about playing poker for an article she's writing about poker.

I seriously cannot believe my luck. It's INSANE. Like being dealt aces twenty times in a row. What are the odds?

3-2-1 Contract!

It's official! It's on! I have just received an actual, bona fide contract.

I'm too excited to write more, but everyone's excited about poker this week. It's not just another fad!

Another Lovely Day

Even though I'm still waiting, anxiously to hear back about the contract and worried that I've jinxed myself by talking about the book before I have the signed document in my hands, I still feel pretty fucking stoked tonight.

When I came out of the subway this evening, a cover of "Feeling Good" by Muse came on in my Yay! mix on my iPod and I was greeted with this beautiful sky:



It's the kind of sky that I love, with the clouds cutting the light into visible bands as the sky shifts blues. It turns out as jaded as I am about some things, I'm a sucker for beautiful skies and sparkly lights. I have a Pavlovian response to fireworks. Which involves delight and sprinting madly to insure a good view.

So back to events of the day.

For those of you who read my previous dating blog, you might remember in May I submitted to Esquire's Brutally Honest Personals and they liked my entry and a fella named Tyler told me I was up for the August issue. I forgot all about it until the other day when I was browsing in Barnes & Nobles and saw that the August issue was already on the stands. Ah well -- no biggie -- I'm not dating anymore anyway. But today, I heard again from Tyler. I'm in for October. It's hysterical. How does everything happen at once? I find it funny that I'm getting into the pages of Esquire for this after being (extremely nicely and personally) rejected when I submitted fiction there. Of course it happens when I no longer care.

Now I'm off to bone up on the rules of Omaha in case I want to teach it at this Sunday's poker class. If you're a lady and you want to learn to play poker, e-mail me and let me know.

Playing Cards with Cheney

Ron of beatrice.com passed on a very funny account of what might happen in a poker game between Dick Cheney and a regular Joe Schmoe. Funny stuff -- it's nice when two things you're interested in come together like that.  It's like the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of the mind.  Mmmm.... satire.
  
 

The way habits come back to us...

It's really funny for me to see myself falling right back into the habits I had while writing my MFA thesis -- it's sort of like visiting with a past self. I'm also vacillating between feeling excited in a very 14-year-old girl about it all and feeling very adult because I have things like a lawyer and I'm getting an accountant.

For instance:

Yesterday for an early-morning break from "writing" (meaning: setting up a poker class I'm teaching, reading other poker blogs...) I mopped my floor. It was too dirty to lie on, you see. Naturally! Of course, you say. As my housemates from my junior of college can verify, I sometimes like to lie on the floor to calm down and think. And I like to clean before I write. I don't know why. Put it to a need to have an eccentric writer thing if you want. My ex used to come home sometimes and find me scrubbing the bathroom and say, "How's the writing going?"

Other ways I convince myself I'm "working": While eating lunch, I watched the only TV of the day, 30 minutes of Rounders with my table of contents and a pen in case I had any brilliant ideas.

And today, besides this really, really fascinating and essential blog post, I cooked enough pasta and vegetables to last me for 4 meals while I made the phone calls of the day. Next? I spent an hour fiddling around with photoshop, reworking pictures I took earlier (in the procrastination week) of playing cards.



This is relevant how? Because I truly needed to put that Queen of Hearts graphic in the side bar? I'm ridiculous. But at the same time, now I've gotten to the point where I'm ready to start writing for real. No joke.

All Mixed Up

I know it's partially because Marlon Brando passed away, but my father is playing "Luck be a Lady" as sung by the late great on his radio show right now. But I know he's also playing it because he knows I'm listening as I spend this weekend working on the first chapter of the book. What a good dad.

Now back to working on clever titles for the Table of Contents...

Livin' the High Life

So it's been hard to concentrate this week, and rather than sitting and checking my e-mail 20 or 30 times an hour to see if a response had come to my counter-offer (what would you call that, anyway, a counter-counter-offer? And if I still want adjustments, is that a counter-counter-counter offer? I can't count that high), I decided to take my $66 in winnings from Wednesday and spend it on beauty and sushi.
 
Screw those Metronaps, a much better and more relaxing way to spend a half hour is in one of those massaging chairs, having someone make your feet look pretty. In my case, that's impossible, so I'll amend that to prettier. I even sprung for the 10-minute massage, just so I could keep napping.
 
And upon return, there it was, the counter-counter offer. My lawyer is out of the office, so I guess I have the weekend to mull it over. But I'm happy. I just don't understand all the crazy language. Much, as I imagine, many people feel when I talk to them about poker. There's so much slang to learn! But that's part of what I love. 
  
update (3 pm): Wow, the wheels turn fast. Lawyer found. Terms explained. Offer accepted. Now I just have to finish my sample chapter and revise the table of contents. I deliver them on Monday and in return I'll receive one brand-new. shiny official contract.

NY Players Club

Last night my friend Dave opened the door to a whole new world of poker: the underground club. I had been a few times to the Ace Point Club to participate in their no-limit Holdem tournaments, but it's primarily a backgammon club that holds poker tournaments twice a week, not a true underground poker club.

After enjoying some free corn and sangria at the Find Outlet Bastille Day sample sale (you gotta love a shopping frenzy that comes with a free BBQ), I did some research on the competition and skimmed through a stack of poker books at Barnes & Nobles. There's really nothing like my book out there, which is great news. The beginner books like "Poker for Dummies" are almost unreadable -- I've actually got the DVD of that particular treasure on my netflix queue.

Around 8:30, Dave arrived and met me in front of the building. I have no idea how "secret" these clubs are so I'm not going to say where it was. This early on in my poker career, I don't need to burn any bridges.

We were buzzed in through one door and then went through a second and there I was in the midst of a hectic, bustling scene. Four or five young men were hanging out in front of a big screen TV which was showing a tournament going on at Turning Point Casino as the floor manager flitted to and fro calling for dealers to start tables and games. Dave introduced me to one of the owners and explained he was showing me around the joint. He introduced me to the floor manager and started pointing out the games going on in the first room. On one table, he said, was a "live game" -- which just means it's being played for real money as opposed to tournaments, which you might pay $50 for $500 in chips.

The "live game" was $30-$60 (meaning raises must be either $30 or $60, nothing more or less each time) Holdem and at it, he pointed out two pros, one of whom was Mickey Appleman, who I've seen on TV playing in the World Series of Poker.

What's both crazy and great about poker, and much of its appeal, is that if I had had $1000 to lose, I could have sat down at that table and played with Appleman. People do this sort of thing all the time -- spend thousands just so they can say they've played with a legend. But as my bankroll is not such that I can afford to lose more than a hundred bucks or so on one night, I declined. When the book contract is signed and I get that first advance... I've decided to use that first 1/3 of the money for poker. I think I can write a lot of things off -- but I need an accountant.

There was a small tournament going on, and in the other second room, Dave sat down at his game -- a rotation game which, he told me, has been going on in one form or another for 14 years. Rotation games mean that you play one kind of poker -- Holdem, Omaha, Crazy Pineapple (which I have zero idea how to play) --- for one round and then switch to another. I sat behind him and he told me what was going on and a quick lesson on hi/lo Omaha.

Soon, a $3-$6 limit game of Holdem was going to start, so I jumped in. I filled out a membership form and sat down with $100 at this live game. There were only 5 players -- which in poker terms we call "short-handed" -- one of whom was a woman about 60. The others -- an Asian Californian, a gray-bearded fellow who it turned out would be my head-to-head opponent for the evening, and a tiny young guy wearing a U of M hat and a t-shirt that declared "Come to Upstate NY!" A few others came in and out, but it was pretty much the five of us for the next two hours.

We had a dealer -- or rather, many, as every half-hour they switched. In a club like this, or in casinos, there's a "rake" -- a fee for the house. It depends how they decide what it is. Every 1/2 hour I forked over $3 to the dealer -- and when I won big, I tipped a buck. It's just good manners to give a tip after you get two straights in a row. Which I did.

I played well, and it was good to see how I had to adjust to playing with people I didn't know -- I stole a few pots (meaning I bluffed, representing, for instance that I had an Ace when in fact I had nada. Bumpkus. Divided by squat) but not as many as I can in my regular game. Still, at the end of the evening I was $66 richer. Not bad. I felt pretty rock star for my first night there, to tell the truth. My bearded opponent kept saying "I can't believe you rivered it again." But I didn't always. The more I play, the more I see instinctively the "outs" for my hand and the pot odds.

Let's just say, as I told the owner, I'd be back. I've been bitten by the poker bug.

Yippee! Hooray!

It looks like I'm writing that book. In the next two months.

I'm in a little bit of shock right now but mainly I feel:

YAY!!!

Gambling is Fun...but not with your life

So, I'm happily running to the catch an L train this morning, "A Little Less Conversation" -- the Junkie XL remix of the Elvis song -- playing, and a nice man sees me coming and holds the doors for me.

But as I jog up, my iPod flies from the pocket of my sweatshirt and onto the tracks. I let the doors close and the train pulls away.

Shit.

I can see it lying there, still playing along.

"You drop your walkman?" one of two boys asks me. I guesstimate their age at 12.

"Yeah," I say. "My iPod."

"Shit," they say.

Now, when I was younger, I used to ride the L everyday to and from high school at Stuyvesant. I have many memories of friends jumping down into the tracks to retrieve something or other, and safely coming back to the platform.

As I thought this over, one of the boys said, "I'll get it for you."

Even though I know better from stories I've heard from a friend who I know is going to be mad at me for doing so, I jumped down, after telling the kids, "Let me know if a train is coming and help me up if I can't do it myself." I couldn't let a 12 year old take the risk for me, and he looked ready to jump.

I'm pretty spry, and after 3.5 years of martial arts, I know how to hoist myself and jump over things. My heart pounding, I easily jumped back up.

The boys walked off as nothing had happened, and my iPod is fine. It was playing (you can't make this shit up) Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life."

Yes, yes, I promise not to do it again. When I got to work, I of course was greeted with this sad news from Gothamist.

Everything's Coming up Toby!

There's a new Teen Girl Squad!

Be sure to click on the "o" in its over at the end.

Happy Decemberween!
Also: Click on the green light on the top of the comptuter screen for the cutest thing ever.

People = Total Rock

These past few days have really made me realize how much I love the people in my life. Yes, I'm that corny, shut up.

For instance: I called this friend of my father's who I've known since I was a teen. He's a pretty serious poker player and I wanted to talk and to ask about his girlfriend, who plays poker professionally. He called me back today and we talked for 1/2 hour, he emailed me about places to play, and then called at 6:30 to invite me to go over with him and his girlfriend to play tonight. Obviously, I didn't go. But seriously, how nice.

Anyway, everyone has been so excited and helpful about this book (and other things) that I have just spent a few minutes dancing madly around the apartment dancing to a mix I've simply titled, Yay!

Included on it are the following songs:

Viva Las Vegas -- Elvis. At his best. It makes me want to start throwing shiny coins in the air and yell wheeee!

The Gambler -- Kenny Rogers. The classic gambling song, no question. Now every gambler knows, the secret to surviving: Is knowin' what to throw away, and knowing what to keep.

My Favourite Game -- Cardigans. Not really about gambling, but it has the word game in it and a good beat. It's one of those songs that always makes me smile, despite the fact I associate it with my ex. I think that makes it clearly an empirical favorite.

Luck be a Lady -- Guys and Dolls. It's one of my favorite musicals and I loved seeing Nathan Lane sing it on Broadway. But more than that, I love that a friend of mine was once in a video store looking at the box of On the Waterfront and the video clerk asked him, "So you a Brando fan?" and my friend of course he said he was, to which the clerk said, "Me too. Hey, you want to hear my Brando impression?" Of course he did. To which, as you might have guessed, the clerk made a big production of getting into character and then launching into Brando's movie rendition of this song. Classic. And probably true!

The Gambler -- Madonna. Yeah, so I've bothered to find a digital copy of this song, so what? I know it not her best, but it's better than her latest.

Not That Social -- The Von Bondies. Here's where poker leaves the music room. I just really like that the hook of this song is, "You're not that social, just a good drinker." There's a lot of these guys in the music that follows -- it's my album du week.

While I'm on the subject of cataloguing musing, some gambling related songs that didn't make the mix for one reason or another: Casino Queen by Wilco, Have a Lucky Day by Morphine, That Was a Crazy Game of Poker by OAR... and a lot of songs I've never, as far as I can remember, heard.

Now if you'll excuse me, I believe my cream cheese poppers are done.

So much to consider

I was all set on "Tits and Cowboys," as the blog name until my friend and fellow Thursday-night player, Greg, pointed out that it's not the best name for book jackets and publicity. You can't say tits on TV on that morning show. Maybe I can get away with it for a chapter title....

I'm getting get more and more excited about the book. Everyone thinks its a great idea and all the women I talk to want a copy when it comes out. But then again, I was at a 30th birthday party where people got very drunk (though not me -- I did enough damage to my liver on Friday night) and also thought it was a great idea to sing "Baby's Got Back" en masse on the rented karoake set. Since I promised the birthday boy in advance I would help start the action, I did "The Real Slim Shady" and so I think I may be partly to blame for setting the tone.

Meanwhile, I think I'm getting my hands on some chips on loan for a while, so I'm going to set up my first "poker class" this week for the ladies. The problem, of course, is where to have it since my tiny apartment can only fit 4 people around a table, tops. Hmm.

2,598,960 possibilities

Another name for this blog (though I'm leaning heavily towards keeping "Tits and Cowboys" even though my dad thinks its too racy -- to which I replied, who do you think you're dealing with? I know you read my novella. On the other hand, my mom loves the name.) has been suggested to me by the book I'm reading, the excellent Big Deal by Anthony Holden, which recounts his adventures on trying to be a professional poker player for a year. How I wish I had the money to try that! So if anyone out there wants to set me up with a bankroll, let me know.

In Chaper 4, he writes, expanding on the thought that there are 2,598,960 possible 5-card poker hands from a standard 52-card deck:

You could say that there are 2,598,960 possible permutations of each of us, which we marshal according to current demands or needs. There is nothing too reprehensible about this. Humankind, as the poet said, cannot bear very much reality. Men and women do not have to be overtly competitive to regard life as a complex adult game, whose rules are there to to be bent or even broken.

A few pages later, he quotes A. Alvarez:

What applied so cogently to money in a poker pot applied equally to the feelings I had invested in my disastrous personal affairs: "Do the odds favour my playing regardless of what I have already contributed?" I knew the answer. The only puzzle was why I should have discovered it not in Shakespear or Donne or Eliot or Lawrence or any of my other literary heroes...

I love both these quotes, but the latter succintly expresses something I've often thought over the past six months -- if only I had started playing poker earlier, I might have gotten out of my doomed engagement/relationship earlier. One of the first ideas I had for my book about poker was something along the lines of what poker taught me about love and relationships.

I honestly believe that one of the best things I've learned from poker is not to throw good money after bad. One thing you have to learn is to not think of the money you've already thrown into the pot as an investment. No matter how many chips you've tossed into the pot (or years into the relationship), that money is no longer yours. It's gone and will go to the winner. If you think you're beat, get out. It's not a matter of pride, it's a matter of knowing when you're beat and saving yourself needless loss.

But that's easier said than done, of course.

Possible Blog Names

So, what to call this blog?

The current name, Tits and Cowboys, comes from the nicknames that certain pairs dealt in the pocket in Texas Hold'em have. Two Kings are called cowboys, while two queens are sometimes called Ladies and sometimes called 4 tits. A pair of aces are known as bullets or American Airlines.

Other titles:
The Little Blind (the name for the forced bet in holdem made by the person to the right of the dealer to start the action)

The Nut Heart Flush (having "the nuts" in poker means you have the best possible hand, unbeatable. A Flush is a hand with all cards of the same suit. Hearts cause I'm a romantic)


Implied Odds (pretty much what it sounds like)

Any other ideas? Let me know what you think by leaving a comment.

Beginner's Luck

In this space soon: tale of 1st poker game. Who can wait?

Yes, this is just placeholder nonsense.