Sometimes they play poker…as was the case when I went into Las Vegas last week and met Marie and Greg at the Orleans Poker Room.  As poker rooms go, it’s pretty typical to find seats open and have the players and dealer tell you there is no list only to find out as you set your butt in the chair that there is a list.  It went like this:

Marie was in a $4-8 O8 game with a half kill.  There were 3 seats open.  I met Greg just as we both were walking into the room.  I took the seat by Marie, Greg went to get chips for him and me and clock us in on our poker room cards.  We were in the 3 and 4 seats and the 6s and 9s was open.  We asked the dealer to hold the 6s for Greg and the 5s said he would move over.  Woot Woot!  We could all sit and gab as we played.  This was a must move table and our names went on the list and when Greg got back with the chips, he said there was a list.  All the players went into ‘sit down, the floor doesn’t know anything anyway,’ and I had played the first hand and won it – on credit of course.  Greg took the 6s.  The dealer started calling out that a seat was open and the 7s left.  Then the 8s started racking up, I’d dealt to him over the years and we had a hug before he left to cash out.

Oklahoma Johnny Hale was in the 1s.  Frankly I do not care for him.  I’ve dealt to him off and on for years now, since way back when, and he’s a whining, mean mouthed, low limit grinder.  I’ve watched him verbally berate people for making a call and beating him.  I’ve watched him whinge and cry when he got beat, it’s not a pretty picture.  People that play every day either learn that they aren’t going to win all the time and deal with it appropriately or they become crying assholes that should have a sock stuffed in their mouth.  He needs a gigantic, woolen sock worn by loggers in the north woods.

Every dog has its day and I got to be the leader of the pack as I looked down to A-10-10-8 from the Button, with the A-8 of hearts.  It got raised, I called.  The flop was 10-3-6.  A kid at the end of the table (the original raiser) bet, we had a few hitchhikers, and Johnny was in for the ride.  I raised, hitchhiker called, the kid raised, hitchhiker called, Johnny called, I raised and Johnny held out his remaining chips – all five of them – towards me to show me that’s all he had left.  Bummer, Dude!  I nodded to the other end and said, “Yes, but he has chips.”

The kid at the end of the table called, and then Johnny did as expected, he made it a point to put all of his chips out on the table, and push his $1 raise out so we knew we were getting raised.  Suck Ass!

Everyone called.  The Turn was a 3.  The kid bet $8, Johnny pitched an ink pen in that had been laying on the table in front of him.  I looked at Marie and said, “He must’ve made quads,” as I raised the Kid’s bet.  Everyone folded around to the Kid.  He called.  The River was a 7.  The Kid checked, I bet, I don’t even think he called me.  The dealer started pushing me the side pot.  I laid my hand down, face up in front of me.  The dealer was splitting up the pot as Johnny turned over 3-6-7-4.

Marie and I were jabbering, the Kid started racking up and left.  The dealer declared that I had a low and started to slide half the pot to Johnny.  Swear to God, Johnny knew I had him beat and he reached out and put his hand on the first stack to pull it in as my end of the table vehemently told the dealer that I had 10’s full of 3’s and had the high and the low hand also.  The dealer took the stack back and looked at the board and then pushed me the whole pot.  Johnny glummer-mumbled and waited a few seconds before he got up and moved away from the table.

Yah, I know I just made him out to be a poker degenerate bum, but IMHO that’s exactly what he is.

This dog really enjoyed having it’s day.

And what else do grannies do?  They opt to take a couple of small grandchildren for a few days.  I tried to figure out if I was losing it by even coming up with the idea.  Another part of my brain said, ‘aw…come on.  let the kid in you out to play.’  So I did.  I picked up Katie and Riot in Vegas on Friday and headed for the new digs.  It was a lot of fun – they went home this afternoon (Sunday – and damn am I glad. Not that they were a huge pain, they weren’t, they were wonderful and I hadn’t seen Katie in quite a long time (it’s the parental idiot factor that grannies have no control over).  Katie is a robust, little inquisitive beauty at 17 months old.  An extremely healthy eater and what a smiley, little toothy girl she is.

When we were at the old digs, Riot was holding out his cat to Katie so she could pet the cat.  She chased it everywhere, trying to pat it, feel it’s tail, and get it to slow down.  Let’s hear it for big brothers.

And doesn’t that boy look damn good in glasses?  To his credit, he has warn them all day, every day, since we picked them up.  That in itself is amazing.

On the online poker front, I’m still stuck in a quagmire, K-K gets busted off by K-9, and a myriad of shit that makes me think online poker is rigged.

Later.  I’ve got to find another rigged online poker game before I go into withdrawal.  That’s another thing grannies do, when the going gets tough, grannies just re-buy.