I Just Wanted Some Barbecue: I’m at Koffeeheads, my free WiFi/good coffee place, on Saturday, trying to get caught up on a bunch of writing—poems, stories, posts for my website—when I get the call from Bert, inventor of the Bert Classic and the neutral density filter, inviting me to his casa for a little celebration for his daughter, who’s starting college in a few weeks. Celebration equals free barbecue, so I say that I’ll be there. Bert, inventor of the Bert Light and the disposable camera, then mentions that his brother, Oscar, and my big bro will also be there, which means that there will be at least four poker players at this celebration.

I understand, my man, I understand. You really can’t get more than three serious poker players together in the same space without a game starting up, and you’ve always got to be ready. For example, I carry a poker chip set in the back of my car at all times, on the theory that you just never know when a poker game is going to break out. You’re at Costco and you hear reverse implied pot odds, and you strike up a conversation, and, next thing you know, you’re up to your ass in a serious poker game in the back of some sketchy auto body shop, hoping like hell that nobody shanks you out with a screwdriver. Or you're playing some hoops at the park and you see some guy on the other team wearing a Cardplayer Magazine T-shirt just like the one that you picked up at the World Series of Poker in June. An hour later, you're dealing hold 'em in a conference room at a doctor’s office. Or you’re out in the 'hood, scoring some weed and—never mind, I’ve said too much. Now, none of that’s happened yet, but the point is that it could.

As we’re starting up, I say that I can’t stay too long because I have lots of work to do, probably until around midnight. My big bro says that he needs to take off even earlier, around 11:00 p.m., so I don’t feel too badly about my having to make an early exit. Pretty soon, though, my big bro gets on his cellie and starts calling people over for the game.

So, how does come over for some food turn into a poker game that doesn’t break up until 2:30 in the morning? It’s funny how everybody ignored every single thing that was said about leaving early. Leave at eleven becomes I’ll go at twelve becomes I can stay until one becomes Okay, maybe 'til two becomes cashing out at two-thirty in the morning. I’m not complaining, just sort of becoming aware that it’s probably impossible to get serious poker players together without them ending up itching to play and then eyeing each other like starved predators. I mean, my big bro is my big bro, and I would kick ass, kill, or die for him, but I would be more than happy to take his last chip, and vice versa. It's never personal. Business is business.

Bizarre Hand of the Night: I had intended to deal out Omaha, where every player gets four cards, but I was talking and dealing and, before I knew it, I had started dealing out a fifth card to everyone. Somebody jokingly said that we should play a hand of five-card draw so that we wouldn’t have to call a misdeal and lose valuable poker-playing time. We thought that it’d be a hoot, so we go for it.

Now, nobody plays draw anymore, so it was a little weird to play without having common cards and with only two rounds of betting.

What do I see in my hand? 2-2-4-4-7. I had two really crummy pairs, but we had all checked it post-deal, so I got to draw for free. I took one card, knowing that the odds against me (I had four outs out of forty-seven cards: a little better than 8.5%) were pretty bad. The card I had drawn was a deuce, giving me the 2-2-2-4-4 boat. Boats are pretty hard to beat in draw, so, when everybody checked and my big bro, who was sitting directly to my right, bet the max, I re-raised the max. Everybody folds and my big bro calls. I know that I’ve got it won, but I feel like a schmuck because of how I had pulled it off. My momentary inability to count to four and then catching against such long odds ended up making me nine dollars, most of which came from my big bro, who I’m surprised didn’t beat me to death with a chair. Sorry, bro. I still feel pretty stupid.

Bad Beat of the Night: Omaha’s just been dealt out, and I’ve got K-10 diamonds with two other high cards. I’m going to have high straight and flush draws, along with draws to high two pairs and boats. The flop comes with two diamonds and a non-diamond ace. I hadn't paired with the board, and it was going to be hard, but not impossible to fill a straight, but I did pick up a nice diamond flush draw for the turn and the river.

The turn is a diamond, the board hasn’t paired, so I’ve got a huge hand, one that’s only vulnerable, as long as the board doesn’t pair on the river and open me up to losing to a boat, if somebody is holding both the ace of diamonds and any other diamond card. I thought about betting right then, but, I checked it with an eye toward check-raising any bet that came at me. Some might say that this was a risky play because, if nobody bets behind me, then there will be a free fifth-street card, and you never want to give free cards if you’ve got a solid hand. I figured, though, that with the players at our table, somebody would swing the steel. Ivan obliged by making it $2 to go, and, when everybody folded out and it was my turn to act, I said, “Make it four.” Before I could even get my chips out there, Ivan said, “Make it six,” and I responded by saying “Make it eight.” Just like that, the hand had gotten intense.

What am I hoping to see on fifth? I don’t want the board to pair because I lose to boats, and I especially don’t want to see the ace of diamonds because, though it would mean that I had made the highest possible flush to my king, if Ivan bets, then I would have no choice but to think that he was holding American Airlines, pocket aces, and was betting a set of aces that had become quad aces. Basically, I’m hoping for rags to come on fifth: a junk card.

What do I get? A junk card that doesn’t pair the board. It will potentially be a battle of pairs vs. two pairs vs. straights vs. flushes, a battle in which I am nearly unbeatable. I bet the max, and Ivan immediately re-raises. My natural inclination was to bet right back at him, but I sensed a great disturbance in the force. I just call.

Ivan shows a diamond deuce, which goes quite nicely with his ace of diamonds to give him the nut flush, along with about twenty of my dollars. Fucker.

Ivan had been holding another ace to go with his diamond ace ace, and he had made a set of aces on the flop. He wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how much I bet. So, not only had Ivan made the nut flush, but if the board paired, he would have had the nut boat. In other words, he had had outs to improve from his nut flush, and I didn’t. I was, as they say, drawing dead.

It was just like on Friday night, two days before. I have the second-best possible hand, and there’s only one card that can hurt me. You (by you I mean me) have to bet that hand because the odds of anybody actually holding that exact card are pretty slim, one in forty-three, a little over 2.3%.

In Summary: After all of the action, I ended up $7.25 ahead, but that number’s a little deceptive. My miniscule profit makes it look as if I weren’t swinging away in the middle of the fray. I started out about $45 down when I played way too many marginal hands, then I started catching and playing at a reasonably acceptable (to me, anyway) level and pulled about $50 ahead, took an ass-kicking from Ivan that left me with $5 in profit, but won one tiny hand at the end.

Epicurean Epilogue: Oh, yeah, about the barbecue. After I got to Bert’s, we hung for a little while, and as soon as the non-players left, we got the game going. As the game was breaking up and we were chillin’ in the kitchen, it occurred to me that I hadn't gotten down on any of the food. Soon, I, along with some other stragglers, was eating meat right from the bowl with my hands, savage-carnivore style. It was all very manly.

Hey, Bitch, I Haven't Really Laughed Yet: Yeah, I’m still not feeling very funny lately. I did just call myself a “bitch,” though; that’s kind of funny.

Poker Problem: Caffeine: how much is too much? I ask because Big Daddy (I’m Big Daddy) is having trouble sleeping.