Why I Lost Poker Night.

First I would like that mention that Jamie is a great person and I only make fun of the ones I love. Except I do hate his blog, so here we go.

There I was in second place. I was close, so close to winning the game. If I got two lucky hands, I would be the owner of 4 dollars and 2 I.O.U's. To my left, the man in women's sunglasses smugly calls everything I raise. The boy across from me starts squeaking angrily about the cards he keeps getting. The dealer has lost everything. And to the right is Fabrizio, but he isn't important.

This is poker night.

The football game is blaring behind me, and UT is losing badly. I think they should have done more blitzes because Florida always walks it out, but what do I know.

Pictured: Football

I have an 8 and a 5. I start cackling. "Cackle," I cackle, and the man in women's sunglasses glares at me. The boy who squeaks folds, and he flails his hands because Boy Scouts are weird. The boy is Jamie.

Pictured: Jamie W. as a child.

What should I do? Should I fold? No, I can't fold. Then I'd be just like Jamie, the squeaky boy scout.

No, I raise 1000. Smug kid calls it. I cackle. The cards are out, and I have nothing, but my nothing is better than Smuggy, who is too embarrassed to introduce us to his girlfriend. Too bad, because Jamie and the dealer alright followed Smuggy to his girlfriend's house!

Pictured: Jamie now.

HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA. "I won" I say. But wait, who is taking the chips? Those aren't my hands. My hands are beautiful, and his are chunky and horrible.

It was Fabrizio. 

FABRIZIO DIDN'T FOLD? HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO PLAY! 

And then I tried to cackle, but I cried instead.

Lesson of the day: Fabrizio exists, and he never folds whenever I forget that he does.