I'm thankful for my little sister. She's 26, but a buck-o-five soaking wet so I can still say "little." I'm thankful for her quiet wisdom and calming spirit. I'm thankful she can make me laugh at myself when I'm taking the world too seriously.
I'm thankful for the incredible opportunities I've had this year. To write, to travel, to meet new friends. To cover the World Series of Poker and live in Las Vegas. To get wasted in Dutch hash bars and dance barefoot in a field in Tennessee. To hobnob with professional keno players and witness a grown man eat crayons. And for all of that, I suppose I'm thankful for the Big Man's hatchet boy who fired me last February. Were I still trapped in my ivory tower on Wilshire Blvd., it's safe to say I wouldn't have experienced 10% of the beautiful madness I have this year.
I'm thankful for the low-limit online poker players so ravaged with insecurity that they feel the need to throw their entire bankroll on the table in a $0.50-1 game when I beat them a pot. It tells me everything I need to know about their poker game and their penis size. I'm also thankful for the ones who stack off with top pair weak kicker in the first level of a tournament, since I really enjoy doubling up early.
Most of all, I'm thankful for the people I've met through this very space. The men and women who have bucked me up when my game was down, bought me shots of a certain sweet amber liquid, put me in cabs when I was too drunk to function, and with whom I shared many many laughs and pints at the Tilted Kilt. You have enriched my life in ways I can barely express without my eyes welling and a lump forming. I can't wait to see you all in two weeks' time.
And lest you think this post is wholly sentimental, here's some pictures of food from last night!!
I learned last night that this candlestick got its dent when my granmother hit my grandfather over the head with it. I always thought it fell in an earthquake.