Shoe Money Tonight!
Pollak welcomes Martin to the Lounge, reminds him that the San Carlos Foundation still gets $5000, and congratulates him on the gutsy move of participating, since apparently Martin's never played Texas Hold'Em. Pollak rehashes the game until Martin pretends to cry, but he can't even do that for laughing. Pollak says they call it the Losers' Lounge but he renames it the Lounge for Nonwinners. He advises Martin to watch the game on the Nonwinners' TV set and make fun of his colleagues. Martin: "I will."
After the commercials, we're back at Pollak's desk, and he says, "Still pretty early in this administration's term -- that's called a 'play on words.'" God, thanks for the bulletin -- I had no idea. That's called "sarcasm." If this is a sample of this guy's comedic ability, things are in an even worse state than I assumed. Chip count: Timothy has 20,700; John, 10,900; Richard, 9,800; and Allison has 8,600. Pollak: "That's the order of succession; let's get back to the game." Wait, dude, was that a play on words? Don't leave me hanging here!
Phil explains, as the next hand is dealt, that with fewer players, you want to relax your idea of a good starting hand, and play more hands, because the blinds are coming around faster. Or something like that. Honestly, I am just not following this. This round, we get a look at Allison's segment; she's playing for the National Breast Cancer Coalition Fund. She affably describes herself as a little too competitive, and admits to "throwing things" -- cards, ping-pong paddles, whatever. Yikes. I wouldn't have taken her for the sore loser/anger-management-problem-having type. She seems like the epitome of a good sport. She thinks it would be great if she were the big winner, "because no one expects it." Apparently, her dad told her that her nostrils flare when she lies, and she attempts to demonstrate. It's fairly hard to see much nostril action. She laughs and says, "That's my talent!"
Back to the game: Allison's got a good hand, but everyone's betting quite actively, except Timothy, who must have folded when I started thinking about what to use as an accent colour in the bathroom. Richard chomps his gum and blows bubbles, and the pot keeps increasing. John suddenly gets four sixes just as Richard increases the pot to over ten grand. Allison has five spade cards, and she raises the pot another three grand. She's also got two pairs. I'm not sure what Richard's doing, because his hand doesn't seem so great, but what do I know? John seems mildly dumsquizzled by Allison's last bet. John re-raises, Richard folds, and John says, "Claudia Jean...." Heh. Allison goes all in. The audience hoots and applauds, but Pollak tsks-tsks. The pot is $21,600. Allison laughs as they show their hands, and she realizes she's lost. She seems pretty good-natured for a sore loser. She takes her cocktail and hugs and kisses everybody before wandering over to the Losers'...er, Nonwinners' Lounge, mumbling that everyone was telling her to be aggressive, so she had to try. As Pollak welcomes her, she makes a big L for "loser" sign with her thumb and index finger against her forehead. As they sit down, the couch is so low that between her long legs and the high heels, Allison's knees are about level with her boobs. Comfy. People were shorter in the '50s, I guess. Or maybe it's just that whole swingin' drinkin' lifestyle: you're closer to the floor when you slide off the couch. I don't know. Allison's a champ and makes the best of it. Pollak tells her that the good news is, now she gets to get liquored up. Allison: "Now? I already am!" She admits to getting more nervous out there than she thought she would. They discuss her play for a while, and she summarizes: "I was fearless and I lost a lot of money." Pollak: "And that's a lesson for you kids out there: You have to be careful while being fearless." He adds, "This will get more exciting, believe me, the more you drink." Well, that's obviously my problem right there. Dry as a bone, as usual. Damn this wacky Amish-Muslim lifestyle of mine!