Life on the Streets

Listening to Matusow talk about losing money is like listening to a hooker talk about losing her virginity. You expect it to be interesting- but all you end up thinking is God I'm glad I'm not you.

--Apefish, on 2+2

Amen to that. If we were, we'd have a rap sheet rife with drug convictions, not to mention an irritating personality, a complete lack of common sense, and a list of creditors longer than Enron's.

I shouldn't harsh on the Mouth too much though. He provides entertaining table talk.

Speaking of talk, I've heard quite a bit of talk the past few weeks about a 10/20 limit holdem game in Manhattan that goes every day and a 20/40 game in Brooklyn that goes on Wednesdays. My completely uninformed opinion is that the 20/40 is juicier than a tree-ripened peach on a hot summer day, but there's a problem. Wednesday is the day of the Crackhouse game. As many times as I have tried, Dawn Summers has warned me that I'm never getting banned from the Crackhouse. "What would the Crackhouse ho's do without their pimp?" she always asks me. "We'd fall into a frenzy of playing hands like king-three offsuit. Offsuit!"

That's usually about the time that I slap the bitch. Hard. I may only be 130 pounds, but that's 130 pounds of FURY. You don't want that coming down on you, believe you me.

Dawn's got a point though. As the pimp, I have responsibilities. I can't go chasing the first pretty 20/40 game I see. Until I find myself a sub-contractor, a like-minded businessman, an entrepreneur, if you will, my primary obligation is to my ladies -- which means no 20/40 for me.

Three 6 Mafia had it right. It's hard out here for a pimp. Be glad you're not me.