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Journal of No. 118


July 4th, 2003

Bachelor Party (edited for her pleasure) @ 10:54 am

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Dinner at Tam O'Shanter. MMMmmmmmm.... I had meat wrapped in more meat.
Afterwards, there were a few stupid primate tricks.
After that, we all arrived at Brian's ahead of Ian....
Ian walks into an empty room. There's a nerf-gun on the table with a message reading "You have ten seconds". Ten seconds later, Brian's house turns into a nerfy first person shooter, as the collective nerf arsenal of Enigma is unleashed on Ian, who gives as good as he gets.
Then a few games of "Whose Bachelor Party is it, Anyway?" including a guest appearance by a disguised grey.
We discover that Ian knows basically nothing about his bride, apart from her past roommates from Monica to "She-No-Here!".
Big Trouble in Little China.
Plenty of Moonshine and Guinness.
And then some late-night poker, at which I triumphed(*).
The last hand (around 4AM) was Anaconda with a high-low split. A lot of money is already in the pot, and four cards have been rolled: Graydon's showing two pair, Ian and I are both showing 4/5ths of a jack high flush. Does Graydon have the boat? Does Ian have the flush? Do I have the flush?
I know the answer to the last question, which is 'no'. Since(?) a lot of low-hands had been played, I kept as my last card a deuce, giving me a pair.
I can't go high, because Graydon's already beat that, so I go low, hoping that Ian has the flush. We declare for hi-lo and CATASTROPHE: Ian is going low. I suddenly feel like a dark grey mummified blotch of chewing gum on a hot sidewalk somewhere in a benighted rectangular state -- Ian has no flush, I deduce, he has a jack-high crap-hand, and that stupid pair of deuces has cost me the hand.
I toss out my matching two and stifle a sob.

---flashback to ten seconds ago at the word CATASTROPHE. Shift to Ian's POV---

CATASTROPHE: Mike is going low. I suddenly feel like a dark grey mummified blotch of chewing gum on a hot sidewalk somewhere in a benighted rectangular state with a steaming semi-liquid pile of dogshit on it -- Mike has no flush. No matter what he has in his hand, my pair of jacks is going to beat it...

We broke up around 4:30, and I hit the sack around 5:30 this morning. Caught 3 hours of sleep, and now feel much better after a disgustingly huge meal at IHOP.

I hear that (most of) the ladies at the bachelorette party enjoyed the performances of "Marvin the Sex Machine".

(*) - My least triumphant moment was as I was dealing 'Follow the Lady' and forgot there was still one card left to be dealt. When I was called on card six, I showed my five three's. A great deal of folding commenced after the seventh card came around. Except for Graydon who hadn't been paying attention. So apart from Graydon's nickel, I lost a whole round of betting with five-of-a-kind in my hand.

---------------
Next stop: BBQ!i
 
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Journal of No. 118