Poker

Seeing as I'm in the mood (eleven JDs), I'll write a short section about the fortnightly Poker Society nights at the student union. Last year I was President, and so I had the wonderful job of getting plastered and still having to usher people around, and count tiny little chips as they flew through my increasingly intoxicated fingers. This year, one of my good friends has taken over my duties so I can now feel free to once again get absolutely wasted and play some cards. In all honesty, I play better when I'm pissed. God knows I chat at the table, my banter is probably almost unbearable for some people, but that's the point, I incessantly ask about what hands people have, why they're playing the way they are, and why they don't give me their money quicker. After a load of practice, all this nonsense info I'm given begins to make sense, and in my drunken haze I can actually file it into useful an non-useful info.
For my sins, I'm not a bad player, and am proudly in profit, much to the delight my bank account and my benefactors. I currently hold the record for most final tables at the Uni poker nite, althougth my most wins record has been eclipsed. My meagre overdraft continues to get supllemented by poker takings, although I must admit that the game tends to drag and that a "real" job would be fine by me.
Over the past 2 years I've not done badly. Of course, I've been in and out of love with the game more times than a Shakespeare character but I've pulled off some useful triumphs. My first big win was turning $6 into $1000, and buying my beautiful girlfriend a plane ticket to Nepal with me 10 minutes later. I've also been lucky enough to win $1500 as a first prize in a weekly tournament, two weeks in a row. Apart from that, I supplement my tiny finances with the odd hundred quid from time to time, eked out on the increasingly boring, increasingly slow tables of the electronic superhighway.
It might not be glamourous anymore, it might not even be cool, but it pays the bills until I can cure people.