Monday, February 23, 2009

GRATITUDE: mysterious poker night gremlins

Those of you who know me well would probably describe me as "a shining example of non-stop refinement and class", or maybe "humble". I am sad to have to burst this bubble and tarnish my pristine image, but it is necessary for me to relate an embarrassing epilogue chapter of my super-exciting Monday update in order to distribute proper gratitude and credit for an amazing poker night miracle.

To preface: Some of the gang and I deployed the highly sought-after and legendary EPIC HAPPY HOUR on Friday, which lived up to its name. Indeed, we accomplished the one concrete goal that we had set for ourselves (because setting goals is an important part of personal development), which was to get kicked out of The Sloop. Victory! Afterward, I decided that I desperately needed a victory hot dog from a street vendor, so I made the choice to undertake the long and dangerous journey back toward my home, which would take me past the hot dog dude on Ballard Ave, instead of crashing at Heenkenstein's pad which was nigh at hand. Victory Hot Dog was a huge personal success, but it also put me home extremely late.

The next day, Dread Pirate Colins calls and wakes me up because his car battery is dead and he needs a jump so he can make it to basketball. Under ordinary circumstances this would not be a problem, but I had abandoned my car in Fremont at the outset of EPIC HAPPY HOUR the day before. My rough plan, originally, was to somehow get to basketball and afterward bum a ride to my car. Anyway, taking pity on Dread Pirate Colins' situation, I decide to get my car beforehand instead, and since it was sunny out, I decide that I should jog to my car. Well, where I had parked in Fremont ended up being a lot further away than I envisioned, so I ended up being pretty beat by the time I got to my trusty steed and galloped triumphantly to DPC's aid. And then we played basketball.

Between the lack of sleep, running, sunshine, and basketball, I started to fade at 5ish or so, but a bunch of dudes were coming over to play poker at 7, so I powered through (because I'm a superstar) (no). ANYWAY, the point is, I was sleepy, and then poker night happened.

Okay, so poker night was fun and awesome and filled with pizza and beer, as poker nights are want to do, but at some point around midnight I noticed that I was no longer making decisions based on what cards I was dealt. Every once in a while, I would realize people were looking at me, and this was my cue to do something with my chips. I think I went all-in against Apollo, like, eight times, for no reason other than it didn't seem like anyone else was going to go all-in against Apollo randomly that hand. I was truly a poker god on Saturday.

I eventually decided to retire my god-like poker skillz to give the others a fighting chance at glory, and also because I was out of money. I left the game and sat down on my couch to converse with Taco about the finer points of something (maybe food? whatever it was, I USED MY WORDS GOOD). Probably mid-conversation I decided to rest my eyes.


I awoke sitting up in the middle seat of my couch, still clutching a half-finished beer, mouth agape as if with an unfinished word. It was dark. My stereo was turned off. The poker chips were all put away. Most of the empties were consolidated by the sink. The pizza boxes were gone. The table was cleared off. The front door was closed. In other words, A MIRACLE HAD HAPPENED.

Okay, so Heenkenstein and Jason had left before I had fallen asleep, but PIPS, Taco, Apollo, Borujewkksiehcisoew, Dread Pirate Colins, Hobo, and Steueueueck were all still around the last time I was conscious. DPC and Hobo are probably the loudest people I know, and there was music playing, and all of the lights were on, and I still just don't see any way someone could fall asleep while sitting up in those conditions.

Regardless, it seems clear that the dudes must have eaten something after midnight and transformed into adorable and courteous little cleaning gremlins, who silently swarmed over my apartment with their magic wands of cleaning and restoration. I have to give it to you guys: You are the awesomest poker night gremlins EVER. I totally owe you all a late-night tidying-up while you're asleep.

Also, someone left a food bank challenge cookbook. (?)

UPDATE: Hahaha, I just remembered that in addition to everything being clean and turned off, someone also left a slice of pizza on a plate in front of me, and a $1 bill next to me on the couch, perhaps as a tip for being such a great poker host. You're welcome. Also, YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST.


Kyle said...

Just be glad the vote to write on your face with a sharpie was filibustered in the Senate.

Grant said...

Yeah dude, I am actually a little bit disappointed with the lack of poker night facial literature and/or artwork. I mean, I'm glad you guys apparently went with plan B, which was to clean my apartment, but in the future, I expect more shenanigans.

Or was it that you just couldn't find where I keep the markers?

cary said...

Online poker was just turned up a notch when Doyle Brunson himself decided to help other people play the game.