The Poker Express

After spending Christmas night in Nashville with the Burgundy family, Philly and I were not at all excited about doing the kid-related stuff that the rest of the family would be doing on Friday and Saturday, which we perceived as involving way too much holiday cheer and not nearly enough holiday beer. Just call us Mrs. and Miss Scrooge (or, "lushes").

One of us (Philly) pointed out that we were in such close proximity to Tunica (well, three and half hours away), that we might as well drive down there and stay for a night. Because, when it comes to casinos, she and I are like moths to a freakin' flame.

Also, as usual, Philly had a couple of free nights at Sam's Town, so we figured we'd only be paying for gas, food, and whatever money we wanted to gamble with. So we packed up The Poker Express (also known as Philly's Mazda CX-7) and hightailed it to northern Mississippi. Where, for the life of me, I can't understand a word anyone says. But anyhoo.

After checking in and getting settled, we headed straight for the poker room, to see if there were any Texas Hold'em tournaments going on that evening. There was one scheduled at 7:00 p.m., and we both decided to enter it.

And guess what. I won! My first win in a "real" tournament! (I've won a free tournament before, and I've also won a one-table satellite tournament, but never one where there were 56 people and a sizable pot.) Okay, so actually I chopped the pot with three other people. BUT...I was the chip leader. And I probably could have played it out, but I was pretty damn happy with the amount I won ($1,000), and to be honest, I was also getting kind of hungry.

As is always the case when I play poker, I became a better player as the tournament progressed (at one point managing to come back from only having one chip!), and I also learned a few things. Such as:

1. I am a much better poker player when I take Xanax.

2. The best words you can hear during a poker tournament are: "Congratulations. You've made it to the money."

3. Always beware of a man who's drinking pina fucking coladas at the poker table.

4. Playing poker with strangers is much more fun than playing with people you know.

5. Playing with men is much more fun than playing with women.

6. Playing with twenty-something men sucks. (P-R-I-C-K-S.)

7. Being the only woman at the final table is a high in and of itself.

and

8. Actually WINNING a tournament is the most fun you can have with your clothes on!

At one point while I was at the final table, some guy came up to watch (we had several onlookers) and said, in reference to me, "Chip leader and drinkin' a beer. That's my kinda girl." Hehehe. I told him to call me later. (Not really.)

I guess winning must have given me the poker bug, because I'm already planning our next trip!

Piece of Cake

Holy crap. Someone sent an Orange Juice Cake to The Firm today, and I practically had to lock myself in my office to keep from eating the whole damn thing. I asked around and managed to find the recipe, and if you're wanting to make something delicious for Christmas breakfast, then I would highly recommend this.

Orange Juice Cake

Cake:
1 box yellow cake mix (Duncan Hines Classic)
1 box instant vanilla pudding
4 eggs
1 cup orange juice
½ cup oil

Mix together and bake in a bundt pan at 325° for 35-45 minutes.

Glaze:
1 cup sugar
1 stick butter
½ cup orange juice

Mix together in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn down slightly and boil 2 minutes. Pour over cake while still in bundt. Let it set for 30 minutes (if possible).

I love the "if possible" at the end. As if people are going to be ripping it out of your hands the moment it's done, and letting it cool for 30 minutes is just completely out of the question.

On second thought, having tried this cake, I think 30 minutes is definitely out of the question.

P.S. While searching through The Firm's recipes (I work with a bunch of Southern women, so of course we have a recipe file), I found one for "Wiener Casserole." Really? Is that what we have to call it?

Because You Asked.

In a recent comment, someone requested an update on Cal. I'm sure you guys have noticed that I haven't mentioned him in awhile.

Turns out, I was right. Long-distance "dating" is not for me. It's nothing against Cal; I'm just not one of those people who likes to spend a lot of time on the phone. I'd rather be doing more productive things at night, like painting my nails and watching movies.

Incidentally, I watched Tootsie for the first time last night. Hilarious. Best line of the movie: "Does Jeff know?"

I about died.

Anyhoo, the bottom line is, I'm single again. Which, according to one of my manfriends, was bound to happen sooner than later. I think I have relationship A.D.D.

Inquiry

Has anyone ever tried hypnosis as a way to quit smoking? My aunt did it a couple of years ago, and I don't think she has had a cigarette since. I'm wondering if other people have been this successful.

I'm also curious whether you have to actually want to quit smoking in order for hypnosis to work.

See, my problem is, even though I know that cigarettes are incredibly unhealthy and make me feel (and smell) icky, I still love them. I think of smoking as a way to decompress, and when I'm at home in the evenings, it's an excuse to go sit outside for a few minutes, which is something I don't really do otherwise (at least not when I'm by myself).

But I hate being dependent on nicotine, and I hate being ashamed for doing something that is so politically incorrect.

Basically, I have a love-hate relationship with smoking.

I've tried Chantix, and although it works really well while I'm actually on the medication, I've found that I start smoking again every time I quit taking it. And I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to take this stuff indefinitely.

So...any thoughts on hypnosis?

Weird Sh*t

I very rarely see movies at the theater any more, mostly because the time between a film's original release date and the date it gets released on DVD has become ridiculously short. Unless I see a movie on opening weekend, or unless I just hear from a lot of people that a movie is really great, I'm usually content to wait until I can get it from Netflix. (On the other hand, seeing a movie during opening weekend can sometimes prove to be a mistake, like, for instance, when I went to see Sex and the City on the day it came out and wanted to KILL half the people in the audience. With that one, I kind of wish I had waited.)

Anyhoo, this past Friday night, I had intended to go downtown with a friend, to check out all of the Christmas lights and maybe grab a few drinks, but when I heard that the temperature was going to be in the 20's, that plan lost a lot of its appeal. Which is how I ended up at the indie movie theater, to see Synecdoche, New York. A guy I work with had literally gushed about this movie, saying that it was the best film he had seen in ages and that it had instantly become one of his all-time favorites. With a review like that, I had to go see it, right?

Wrong. That movie is weird.

The thing is, I like to think of myself as the type of person who can appreciate weird, independent-type movies. I enjoy movies with a subdued tone (a la The Royal Tenenbaums), and most of my favorite films are the quirky, cult-classic types. But Synecdoche, New York...I just didn't get it. I mean, I think I understood its message or theme or what have you, but it terms of how that message was conveyed, it was just weird. Not that I wouldn't mind watching it again, but I definitely wouldn't put it in my list of favorites.

And speaking of "weird," I discovered something very, very odd this weekend, so odd that I'm really kind of dumbfounded by the strangeness of it. But first, I need to share a little background information. Several weeks ago, on Halloween night actually, I met a guy at a bar. (Imagine that.) After we chatted for a few minutes, he asked if I'd like to go out sometime, and because he seemed nice enough, I gave him my number. It was actually a couple of weeks before we met for our first date (in the meantime I caught a cold), but during the interim he befriended me on Facebook, which is something I guess most people do these days when they meet someone, if only to do a preliminary check on whether that person is, in fact, somewhat normal. After checking out this guy's profile, I wasn't sure whether we were really compatible for anything long term, but I figured, what the heck, there's no harm in going out a couple of times.

So...this guy and I went out for the first time on November 14th, and then again on November 21st and 28th. After our third date, I never heard from him again, and as much as that's a blow to the ego, I didn't really mind him not calling, because as I mentioned before, I didn't see us having much of a future. Of course, we're still friends on Facebook, which has the benefit (not) of allowing you to see exactly what someone is up to, even when you don't necessarily want to know.

And this is where the weirdness comes in. You're not going to believe this, but when I signed on to Facebook yesterday, I was greeted by the news (via the newsfeed page that you see when you log in) that this dude got MARRIED on Saturday. Yes, that's right, only two weeks after going out on his last date with me, this guy has now promised to spend the rest of his life with someone else. I know what you're probably thinking: either he was just getting his last kicks in with me before tying the knot, or he suddenly rekindled a relationship with someone from his past and decided he couldn't live without her.

Here's the thing, though. Everyone he knows appears to be just as shocked as I am, at least judging from the responses on his Facebook wall. It appears that this guy has completely lost his mind.

As Philly astutely pointed out, the only thing that would have been weirder would be if it turned out that the reason he never called again was that he had died. Although, I don't know. This is pretty weird.

Of course, I hope for the best for this guy and his new family (apparently, he's a stepfather now, as well), but damn! That was quick.

Also on the topic of weirdness (what is it with me today?), I have been craving the strangest foods lately. Yes, I realize what that is usually a sign of, but I honestly don't think that's the case here. My first craving was for a Whopper from Burger King, and that one can be explained by the fact that it seems like every time I've turned the radio on recently, there's been a commercial for Whoppers. Before yesterday, I hadn't eaten a Whopper since high school, but last night, I just had to have one. I guess that's a sign of effective advertising.

My other craving has been for banana popsicles. I had two last night, and then another one for breakfast this morning. This one is a little weirder, I think. But I honestly think it was due to all the wine and rum I drank on Saturday night, and I was really just thirsty. For some reason, banana popsicles hit the spot. I think that banana is definitely the best flavor.

Too Picky?

I was talking to my ex-boyfriend Slim the other day, and I was giving him a hard time (because that's what I do best) about the fact that he never wears cologne. Not that I think all guys should wear cologne all the time, but you know, it's nice every once in awhile. If only to cover up the sweat.

Me: Did you wear it when you went out with that one girl?

Him: No.

Me: Well, that's why she never went out with you again! I mean, hell, I've stopped seeing guys for less.

Him: Yeah, but you don't count. Your reasoning is flawed.

Me: My how-I-decide-on-a-mate reasoning?

Him: Yes.

Me: You're probably right. I do have a lot of deal-breakers.

Him: Yeah, like, "Doesn't wipe his feet off before he comes in."

Me: Come on, that's huge. It's not just the mud on the carpet, but it's what it REPRESENTS.

Him: What does it represent?

Me: Lack of conscientiousness.

Him: So you're telling me that you would stop seeing someone because he forgot to wipe his feet off before he came into your apartment?

Me: Well, not after the first time.

Him: You're crazy.

I think maybe he's right.

Season's Feastings

Anyone who has worked with Southern women knows that, during the holidays, we like to eat at the office. A lot. Cookies, muffins, cakes, snack mix...you name it, and one of the ladies you work with has probably brought in enough of it to feed a small army. And no matter how much of it she brought, it was almost completely gone within twenty minutes. I say "almost," because no one likes to eat the last serving of anything. It's like it makes us feel guilty or something, as if everyone who took the rest of the servings felt bad at all as they wolfed them down.

Today, one of the ladies at my office truly outdid herself, making breakfast for the entire office (thirty-something people). And it wasn't just the usual muffins or coffee cake...nope, she made cheese grits, biscuits and gravy, and fruit salad with pecans. I mean, I'm lucky to get out of bed on time every morning, much less be up early enough to prepare a Paula Deen-style meal for everyone. Sheesh.

And last week we had our annual Holiday Luncheon, which involves all of The Firm "staff" preparing lunch for the attorneys, in order to thank us for all that we do. (Shouldn't it be the other way around???) Of course, the staff eats as well (not just the attorneys), and thank goodness they do, because most of the attorneys here are men, and from what I've noticed, they're very hesitant to try anything that they can't identify every ingredient in. Despite the vast array of casseroles and salads that were available, I noticed most of the attorneys sticking to the more "traditional" items, like ham, turkey, green beans, stuffing, and deviled eggs.

I, on the other hand, took a small (and by "small," I mean "hefty") serving of every single dish there, resulting in several sheepish looks from my co-workers, especially when I cleaned (and practically licked) my plate. I may be small, but I can eat more than most people I know. Some of the dishes that I thought were especially yummy were the pineapple casserole (which I'd heard about before but never tried), the 7-layer salad (a perennial favorite for me), the hashbrown casserole (it rivaled Cracker Barrel's hashbrown casserole, and that's saying a lot), and the cheesy artichoke squares (because I pretty much love anything that involves artichokes).

I am not lying when I say that, after lunch that day, I couldn't move for several hours. It was definitely worth it.

With The Firm's annual Attorney Christmas Party coming up this weekend (whoever said the caste system was dead obviously hasn't been to The Firm) and our office-wide Christmas Party/Lunch coming up next week, it looks like I'm going to be resorting to wearing sweatpants for the next several weeks. I'm sure a lot of you can identify.

Holidaze

I don't know if it's the fact that it's been abnormally cold for the past few weeks, or if it's that all of the talk about The Recession has me afraid to spend any money, but I have been VERY late in getting started on my Christmas shopping this year. Like, just-bought-my-first-present-yesterday kind of late. And I have eleven people to buy for (not including myself, of course), so I have a lot to do between now and the 25th.

I've been told by both of my parents (separately, because they're divorced) that we'll be having a "modest" Christmas this year (translation: you ain't gettin' shit), so I guess I'll be buying myself a few of the things on my wish list, like one of those new, inexpensive mini-laptops, which are apparently called "netbooks." I know I could just get a BlackBerry or an iPhone if I want to have portable Internet access, but I still like the idea of pulling out my laptop at the coffee shop and clacking away on a keyboard. I just don't like the idea of carrying my (current) laptop.

(FYI, I just Googled the word "clacking," to make sure that I was using it correctly, and you don't even want to know what that word's definition on Urban Dictionary is. Rest assured, I'm referring to the traditional meaning. At least in this post.)

In other news, on Saturday I went over to a friend's house to watch the SEC Championship, which I really had no stake in at all, but was watching anyway, in hopes that Florida would LOSE. Unfortunately, it didn't quite go that way.

There was a group of us hanging out to watch the game, a few girls but mostly guys. It was my favorite kind of "fest," if you know what I mean. (Philly is reading that, going, What in the hell? Football fest? Beerfest? What kind of fest???) It was a fairly uneventful afternoon and night (i.e., I was home by 11:00), but my favorite part of the evening was when one of the guys' girlfriends called on her way over, to see if anyone needed anything. Big mistake. I can only imagine what the cashier at the gas station was thinking as this 115-pound girl approached the counter with two cases of Natty Light and then proceeded to ask for two cans of dip. (Keep in mind, we're in the South).

Even more priceless was what our friend said to the two guys standing in line behind her, when they looked at her sheepishly after she asked for the dip. "I'm out," she said with a shrug.

Shucks.

It has been brought to my attention that my blog is now listed as a secshully explicit website at several of my readers' workplaces.

Okay, first of all: Seriously???

And second of all: Sucks to be you guys!

And now that I wrote the word "sucks," I probably just got banned from a few more workplaces.

What am I supposed to do, y'all? Quit cussing? Quit writing about the juicy stuff? (Wait, I don't write about the juicy stuff...that much.)

You know, if men didn't sit at their desks looking at pourn all day (and yes, I misspelled that on purpose), then workplaces wouldn't have to ban websites. Purvs.