Men New Era Hats

"Did you get what you wanted out of it?" Kim asked. It was our last training session. Yes, I had. I could use this.
"I bet you have a good poker face," she said. "You're hard to read. Most people, you can tell if they're having an easy time  New Era Hats or if something is painful. With you, you can't really tell —"
"My blank face —"
"It's hard to tell."
There it was again. For years and years, people had informed me I had a good poker face, when I told them I was going to play at a friend's on Friday night, or ran into them on the subway while carrying my suitcase of monogrammed chips, which was a gift from a college buddy after I was a groomsman in his wedding: "I bet you have a good poker face." They don't know a set of trips from a royal flush, but they know this fact. What they're really saying is, you are a soulless monster whose fright mask is incapable of capturing normal human expressions. You are a throwback to a Neanderthal state of uncomplicated emotions, or a harbinger of our cold, passionless future, but either way, I don't know what's going on in your head.
Perhaps I am projecting.
Nonetheless, we have now definitely waded into the waters of training area numero three: EXISTENTIAL. I can't help it if I understand everything tends to ruin. Over our heads, Skylab is eternally falling down, I can see it all, the debris raining without cessation. I was a skinny guy, but I was morbidly obese with doom. By disposition, I was keyed into the entropic part of gambling, which says that eventually, you will lose it all. The house always wins. Even for the most talented players, the cards fail for weeks or months or years, the beats are the baddest of the bad, you are blinded out of existence. Remember how I mentioned the blinds? They escalate at intervals, and if you don't keep ahead of them by doubling up your stack, they'll eliminate you. They are a Wave of Mutilation. You survive one Wave of a big blind, then the half-size one of the small blind, diminished, and then the next Wave starts gathering force down-table.
I was in tune with decay Boston Red Sox Caps  , I had it down. What I needed to do was get in touch with decay's opposing force, whatever that thing is that gets us out of bed each day and keeps us a few steps ahead of the Wave: the hope of some good cards next hand.
For the citizens of the Republic of Anhedonia, luck is merely the temporary state  Cheap New Era Caps  of outrunning your impending disasters. But sometimes my countrymen and I have to look beyond our native truths and pray. Even a temporary respite from the usual level of soul-snuffing drudgery is a blessing. Luck would have to do. You need skill in poker, but you also need the puppet master to be in a good mood every once in a while. I didn't have much skill, but I'd prepared the best I could. I suppose I could have run simulations of previous World Series on the holodeck, but I  Ed hardy Caps  didn't have a holodeck. They haven't even been invented yet. Luck would have to carry me where my training failed.
On the morning of Friday, July 8, I hopped a plane to Vegas to play in the Main Event. Like one of my beautiful losers, I would step on the scale before a live studio audience and we'd all see how much bad stuff I had shed.