Hey, kids! I think I have strep throat. I'm not sure, but I'm in horrible pain! Oh lordy.
Well, that's enough pity partying. It's time now that I tought you all the game of Pluck, which I learned about a month ago while waiting with some other degenerate gamblers for a poker game to start. Pluck is great because, like baccarat, there's no skill involved; but unlike baccarat, I understand it.
OK, here's how you play. First of all, each player names a specific card (suit and value). Then all the cards are spread out face down on the table in an unorganized pile. Moving clockwise, each player "plucks" a card (get it? get it?) from the pile. Depending on what card they get, they might get money!
Here's how it works: suppose my card is the 3 of diamonds.
* if I get a diamond, everyone pays me $1.
* If I get a 3, everyone pays me $5.
* If I get the 3 of diamonds, everyone pays me $20! Give me your money!
Ah, but the money-giving doesn't stop there. After each player has 5 cards, everyone pays $3 to the player with the best poker hand (or $6 if their hand is 3-of-a-kind or better).
Believe me, this game is fun. Highlights include: picking your card and suddenly getting $80; and, getting super-drunk while you play and realizing it makes no difference whatsoever and possibly even helps. Play Pluck(tm) today.
Do you keep the same card as your pick for multiple turns, i.e., if you pick 3 of Diamonds and your first card pulled is the Queen of Hearts, are you still going for the 3 of Diamonds on your next turn? And, more importantly, does Juice Newton materialize from the middle of the pile and serenade the whole drunk group?
Whoa... Juice Newton reference. Rock, rock on.
You have to keep going for the same card throughout each 5-card hand. Technically you can change cards between hands, but if you're drinking as much as you should be, it gets confusing.
Yeah I totally don't understand why I'd want to give you money.
Hey, kids! I think I have strep throat. I'm not sure, but I'm in horrible pain! Oh lordy.
I think you gave it to me, fucker.
Ooops.
Anyway, I went to the doctor, and she said I don't have strep; it turns out I'm just a whiner. She prescribed pills that are really just giant Advils. It's like if Advil was uncomfortably huge and not candy-coated and wonderful. I'm all, "why can't I just take a handful of Advils like I've been doing?" and she's all "how much did you say you drink every week?" Fuckin' doctors.
Until I have my own blog (so, forever), I'm occasionally going to post my random thoughts as comments to the latest entries here, whether there is any conceivable connection or not. So:
Could somebody please tell Keith Hernandez that repeatedly referring to the baseball players' "fannys" ("fannies?") during a Met broadcast does not help dispel the rumor that he's gay. Thanks.
hey you. let's get drunk when i go to the atl. woo!
reply to me, because i'll probably forget to check this thing again.
and i'm making sangria tonight. mwahaha.