Shawn G. Is a Worthless Bastard

Sometimes while I'm writing and/or reading I'll play online poker tournaments for money. When it's my turn to act, the program dings to let me know; I bet, check, or, most often, fold; and then I go back to work.

Shawn G., one of my homies from the poker crew just got back into online action yesterday, and he plays where I play. We played in two games yesterday, and, while I didn't win, I lasted longer than he did, which is just as good as winning because I got to make fun of him. It was sweet.

We said that we'd play again today, but I was in the middle of a ninety-person hold 'em tournament when he called. No problem, I tell him,  I'll just jump from table to table, so Shawn G. and I play in a nine-person game of Omaha. He's the first one out, and, good friend that I am, I immediately call to mock him mercilessly; I, by the way, took second and made more than two-and-a-half times the buy-in. At the same time, I'm advancing in the ninety-person tournament and end up finishing third, winning eight times the buy-in.

Then Shawn G. and I decided to battle in a five-dollar, heads-up, winner-take-all game of hold 'em. I'm not going to lie, I was feeling pretty confident. It took Shawn G. all of fifteen hands and about four minutes to get every single one of my chips. On the last hand, he slow-played trip tens and I pushed all-in after the turn with my two pair: sixes and tens. He hustled me like I was a rookie.

Respect, Shawn G., respect. (You bastard.)