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Today is errand day as I prepare for a 7-day stint at the World Series of Poker. I was hoping to tour a cigar factory but it seems I need to repair Memphis Red, instead. A pulley from the serpentine belt mechanism came loose. The repair is really causing me to juggle bills here as I await my first real paycheck this Thursday.
Playing poker has come to a screeching halt as I suffered my first real setback the other day and am facing a ton of bills all-of-a-sudden. I’m going to have to ask for a special arrangement for my final hospital bill as I don’t see how I can possibly pay it in one lump sum. The money simply isn’t coming in fast enough. It’s crazy — I’m making nearly $30 per hour playing poker this year, have earned an income with it every month, and still can’t play!
The WSOP is going fairly well. My days have been quite easy compared to years past — I picked the right shift for that. Plus we’re off to a better start than last year. But while work is steady, I haven’t yet had that big day that’s given me any sort of “surge” ahead. Due to being scheduled off the first couple days of the Series, I’m a little bit behind most dealers, but this 7-day stretch may catch me up a bit.
Rumor has it Michele, my long-time travel and life partner, is at the WSOP with her husband — after I requested she not come. I’m crossing my fingers I don’t see her but my co-worker said something interesting. Apparently the past couple years haven’t been so “kind” to her. He tried to convince me she’d aged 10years and isn’t the beauty queen she used to be. He was practically in disbelief and almost wondered if it was mistaken identity. I’m not volunteering to go look for her and find out…
I have a feeling dating is in my near future. I guess I’ve been getting a bit “cozy” with just the prettiest little co-worker, but am trying my best to be practical and wait until a couple paychecks to hit my account before I even ask her out for lunch. After all, it never just ends there — a girl expects you to take her out now and then.
Not much else to report except I put my birdhouse up. I haven’t hung it in quite some time on account of the large gang of pigeons that hung out behind 48 Ugly* in Phoenix. (Really, a gang. They patrolled a small slice of my neighborhood perching on one of their 3 lookout points — and then moved to the next. Silently. In all the times I ever saw these 3-dozen birds observing me on the wire, only the ringleader would make a peep. He was always the one atop the post. A very strange, ominous gang of pigeons. Even Jeepers didn’t want anything to do with them).