My Dad taught me the hands. I don't remember how old I was. I know the first time I played for real money was in high school. All of the cool jock kids played quarter ante dealers choice games. I got to sit because of mutual friends. Everybody kept their change in Crown Royal bags. I remember being blown away that people were bringing fifty or one hundred dollars to play with. I got my ass kicked. I really didn't understand what was going on. I saw one pot of Acey Deucey for like $300. Some how a watch was on the table. Maybe eight years later, the kid that lost that pot got got convicted for rape. That's what I heard. I didn't play again for a long time.

Rounders. Internet poker. Now, I'm sitting on a patio in Las Vegas watching a cockroach carry a piece of paper towel back to where ever he came from. I'm forty two years old. I'm drunk as hell. I just avoided my second DUI. I pulled up wasted at a local convenience store. Two Metro officers where in the parking lot. Eye balling me hard. I had to straighten up and suffer. I bought my six pack and made it home.

Now, I'm writing this. I'm a drunk. I'm an alcoholic. I have a gambling problem. I've got a wife. I have two kids. I have a part time job. I struggle to pay the bills. If it wasn't for the wife and kids... I'd probably just cash it in.

But...

I'm smart as ****. I mean genius level IQ. I'm hard too. I've been knocked out a couple of times. I've knocked out some mother ****ers too. I've spent some time in jail. I know what's waiting for me if I don't get it together. That's booze talking. I'm scared.

I love poker. I love these PG&C threads. Something inspiring about cats wanting to come up.

Me too.