Shark Attack!

CARD shark, that is. Yes folks, I’ve had my first official run-in with Texas Hold ‘Em…and it was a doozy. Let me set the scene:

SETTING: Dimly lit room above Crow Restaurant in lower Queen Anne, Seattle; bad renditions of songs that weren’t that great to begin with are being karaoke’d by the bar; beer and homemade wine freely flowing; ties are loosed, heels traded in for flats/sneaks; every ten minutes, blackberrys chirp with new emails and faces are illuminated, awash in blue from their screens.

ATTENDING: The entire department, including interns who look like they’re not old enough to be partaking in the festivities; P/P/Ds are tanked; staff are filled to the brim not only with Busch Beer, but also on the meatballs that keep coming in steady supply from the kitchen (the sauce for which was purchased from the 7-11 down the street 30 minutes before the party started).

THE GAME: Texas Hold ‘Em Poker; $30 gets you $2800 in chips; there are 25 players, only 5 of which are women; blinds go up every twenty minutes; 3 tables going simultaneously.

Two hours in, the game is down to just 6 players–myself included. I’m up $10k in chips, consistently winning every 3rd or 4th hand and I’ve managed to clean out not only my boss, but the 6 other Partners, a handful of mangers and staff, and the head of our department. It all came down to one hand…a hand I wish I could take back.

Everyone had folded except myself and an adroable Senior Manager named Marty. My hand was crap, but I had this GIGANTIC PILE of chips in front of me! I was invincible! A crowd had gathered around the table in anticipation, comments about my ability to take the hand filling the air. Still waiting on the river card, Marty surprised everyone: “All in.” It was back to me, $7500 to call.

I should have looked at my cards again and re-evaluated my position. Had I done so, I would have realized that, despite my pair of Queens, the likelyhood that the river would complete the rest of my hand was slim to none. I would have known that I couldn’t win. But I was convinced that such a bold move on Marty’s part meant that he was probably sitting on less than I was. So I did it:

I called his bluff.

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I lost.

It didn’t take long for the rest of my $2500 to slowly get picked away by Marty and the rest of the table. I had lost not only my money, but my confidence–my mojo–as well. In the end, I finished final four, winning back my $30 buy-in. But that fatefull hand is one I’ll never forget. And I’ll never look at a pair of Queens the same way again.

“It’s Christmas time in the city…”

Well, only one week until Christmas. The shopping district downtown Seattle is adorned with white lights and bustling with holiday shoppers, and the financial district has been twinkling with green since Thanksgiving. I’ll admit that, even with the snow over the weekend, I’ve not been in much of a holiday mood this year.

But all that changed when temps dropped to the mid-twenties this morning, and I was greeted with this view from my office:

The crystal clear air and view of the snow-topped Cascade Mountains* reminded me not only that Christmas has arrived, but how much I love life here in Seattle.

And with any luck, we’ll have another glorious sunset like this:

If this keeps up, looks like clear skies for Santa and his Raindeer!

For more reasons why winter in the Pacific Northwest is breathtaking, head on over here to see pics of the recent snowfall in Portland, where my Scomerican friend is spending her holidays.

*In my hurry to type this post *ahem* while at work, I had a brain fart. Those are the OLYMPIC MOUNTAINS, as pointed out by an old friend. Uh, how long have I lived here?!

Being YOURSELF: The New “Cool”…

I was recently posed with the challenge of trying to describe myself in one paragraph. ONE! Can you imagine?! I know it doesn’t sound like a difficult task, but try it! Try to express, in 300 words or less, what makes you YOU. (In fact, if you can do it and it fits in the comments section of this post, I’ll send you a prize.)

For me, it was hard to know where to start. I mean, the general goal in putting oneself in a nutshell like that is to express–in no uncertain terms–your utter awesomeness, amazability, uniqueness, your own singular brand of “cool”. I figured the best way to get the ball rolling was to make a list. But as my list grew longer and longer, I began to realize that while everything on my list was true, I felt like they painted a picture of an awfully BORING person–not “awesome”, “amazing”, or “unique”, let alone “cool”. I wanted to sound COOL, and I wasn’t quite sure how to get there. I decided I needed to do a little research…afterall, I was a history major, and if there’s one thing us Liberal Arts majors know how to do, it’s reasarch. So I turned to the ultimate source of all things “COOL” in Seattle: The Stranger (Seattle’s alternative newspaper).

In the back of The Stranger are the personal ads, where the funky kids loiter about in the hopes of finding other funky kids to bum a smoke off of and eventually shuffle down to Neumo’s with for a show. How would these people, the very definition of “Seattle Cool”, define themselves? As I started to read, I began to see a trend: all the things that used to be avant garde and unique in Seattle, were suddenly trendy and hip! Apparently while my back was turned, it stopped being “unique” to listen to KEXP, or to hang out at the Sit N Spin. It stopped being ok to just like Starbucks coffee, and instead you have to be gulping down a cup of black mud that tastes like ashtrays and pretend you like it because it’s made from free trade beans. Paying top dollar for organics at Whole Foods WAS cool, but now it’s not anymore…everyone is shopping at their local farmer’s market now, didn’t you know?

All of a sudden, it dawned on me: these kids weren’t “unique” by any means…they were all THE SAME! I was looking for “cool” in all the wrong places… It was then that I discovered, my fingers covered with newsprint, that BEING YOURSELF is the new COOL. Something it turns out I knew all along.

At the end of the day, I knew exactly how to describe myself:

I have a membership to Seattle’s Sci-Fi Museum. Yes, I went to Comic-Con last summer…and no, I didn’t wear a costume. But I think the people that did are truly dedicated fans that put me to shame. Yes, I’m obsessed with tv shows about paranormal researchers trying to document ghosts and various otherworldly phenomena. I enjoy attending lectures by Michio Kaku. I LIKE STARBUCKS, and my car doesn’t operate on bio-diesel. Yes, I like Muse, and yes I jumped on the bandwagon a little late. So what? I write poetry every day, and prefer Diet Coke from the fountain. I like laughing so hard that my body shakes in violent fits of silent hysteria. I have a penchant for Sci-Fi tv shows like Stargate Atlantis, Battlestar Galactica, and Dr. Who. I enjoy reading books on Quantum Physics that are way over my head, and am rather proud of myself when I recognize their applications included–albeit often crudely–in a popular science fiction novel.  I go to the movies alone, hate to cook, love vaccuming, and prefer the company of my cat to that of a child I’m not related to any day.

I’m Stephanie–and on February 7th, I’ll see you at Seattle’s Science Fiction Short Film Festival, tub of buttery popcorn in one hand, and Milk Duds in the other. Please bring napkins.

You had me at…narcissist?

So I get it: for some people, being single is GLORIOUS. No strings attached, no commitments…you can be with whoever you want, whenever you want, and the possibilities are endless (in theory). But for other people, being single SUCKS. Constantly in search of their next “someone”, they’ve perfected the art of painting themselves in what they think is the most positive light imaginable. And I often find it hilarious to see exactly what kinds of things people think will attract the opposite sex. What do I mean? Well…

I’m no genius , but I do happen to have a brain (and I know how to use it). When looking for a possible mate, nothing is sexier than a guy who can crack me up one minute, then switch gears and have an intelligent conversation about foreign policy or the potential of finding alien life on Mars the next minute. So I have to admit that statements like this boggle my mind:

“I don’t require females to know much…but a passion to learn is nice.”

Ahem. Yes, you heard that right. I wanted to respond “Oh, really? Thank goodness! I didn’t want to hurt myself!” *giggle* *flip hair*

Now, I haven’t always been the self-confident woman that I am now. Like many women (and men), I’ve questioned my level of hottness, the degree of ease with which I could “bag” a guy, and the desirability of my curvaceous body. But in recent years, I’ve come to recognize that–in my own way–I’m a catch. Despite my new-found confidence, gentlemen please make no mistake: flattery will still get you everywhere. So I was glad when he chose to highlight that particular qualitity in himself:

“My female friends say that I promote their self-esteem while still making them feel comfortable.”

Ah, I see! Because nothing makes me more UN-comfortable than a little flattery, and a compliment or two. I HAD to have entered some other dimension, some alternate reality occupied by tall, skinny white guys whose brains actually formulate thoughts like these, things started to get better:

“Everything good always happens to me!”

Oh! Well, that’s positive, right? No one wants to date a guy who’s living proof that karma really IS a bitch…

“I think I’m really supportive, positive, and accepting of other people…”

YESSSS!

“…but I tend to lack compassion for people who make bad decisions.”

NOOOOO!!

And just when I thought guys only wanted athletic and toned women on their arm, he was able to set the record straight:

“…she doesn’t have to be in shape. I can already run a 5 minute mile. She just has to LOOK like she is in shape.”

I sat for a moment, confused and pondering the difference between “being in shape” and just ”looking like you’re in shape”. Then I realized we’re talking about the difference between EATING and, well STARVING YOURSELF. And just when I thought there wasn’t a humorous bone in his very long, lanky body, he pulled this gem out of nowhere:

“I’m thinking about getting citizenship in an African country so I can say I’m African-American.”

If he could have read my thoughts, he’d know I was dying to ask: “How on EARTH are you still single?!”