blonde poker forum

I hope you realise that I’m laying various parts of my anatomy on the line here, but you have a right to know.

As those of you who attended the bash will know, the buffet was served in two sittings. Half the field would dine at the end of the first two levels, the other half an hour later.
I was in the first half, and, as is my habit, I was watching the clock with the intention of slipping away a hand or two early so as to be near the front of the dinner queue. This plan was hampered somewhat when Simon Trumper asked if he could sit behind me and watch me play a few hands. I told him that he couldn’t possibly learn very much in such a short space of time, but he said it was too good an opportunity to miss. Well Simon is a good kid, and in my humble opinion he has a lot of potential. It would have been churlish of me to refuse, so I agreed to let him stay. Truth to tell he is extremely bright and makes an excellent pupil.
Simon will never know my reasons for calling off one third of my chips with A9 and then passing to a bet on the river. He was looking at me with a puzzled frown and shaking his head slightly when the dinner bell went. (Sorry Simon)

I arrived at the buffet table almost at the head of the queue, I was faster than most, but not quite as fast as the lady who stood in front of me, namely one Tracy Dell, or DingDell as we know her. I always thought the “Ding” part was a play on the words “Ding Dong Dell”, but now I suspect that it was inspired by her favourite sound, the microwave finishing.
You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but my god she can eat. She packs it away like it’s going out of fashion. She must be built like a Tardis, bigger on the inside than on the outside, it’s the only explanation. When I arrived she was measuring one plate against another, eventually choosing the one that was a few centimetres bigger. I may have taught Simon Trumper a thing or two at the poker table, but Tracy gave me a master class in selecting food from a buffet.

First up, the salad. She knew instinctively that this was a –EV option when it comes to space taken up on the plate v calories provided, however, for the sake of appearances she picked up a small lettuce leaf and arranged it so that it looked like a lot, then she got to the proper food and really demonstrated her plate-loading skills. I will never quite understand how she managed to pack so much into a small area, she must be an expert in Japanese construction techniques and quantum physics. To a casual observer, the plate didn’t look too overloaded, but had anyone listened carefully, they would have heard the table groan slightly as she set it down.

She ate, save for the occasional burp, with quiet concentration. The sight of her arm moving between plate and mouth reminded me of the machinery constructed during the industrial revolution, crude, but oh so effective. When it came to dessert she knew all the tricks, asking me to get her two pieces of cheesecake because she “didn’t know which one to choose” then slipping yet another portion, complete with a large quantity of cream, into a specially constructed handbag. She took large swigs from the cream jug when she thought no one was looking. Occasionally, in her haste she would slop a little onto the floor, this she would rub into the carpet under the table with a slow rhythmic motion of her foot, all the while maintaining an expression of complete innocence.

Did I remark upon her gastronomic display at the time? No, I did not. I was just thankful to leave the table without having any of my extremities bitten, as it turned out, I managed to escape with nothing more serious than a light dusting of crumbs and saliva.

How does she manage to trough like this and maintain her figure? All I can put it down to is some sort of strenuous nocturnal physical activity (your guess is a good as mine) and colonic irrigation.

Go for it Stillhair!

She's going to smack you round the head with the dirty end of her hose when she reads this.

I was thinking more of placing the ends of the hose in different strategic orifices!!

lmao...class!...atleast the last post you'll ever make was funny Mr Red.

I wouldnt have your back to Tracy again Red ............ you'll be the one who ens up with the hose in your jacksey !!  ;whistle;

rotflmfao

That may just be he best Red Post ever.

Thanks Tom, I'll never be able to look at Tracey the same way again.

 rotflmfao ;thankyou;

Oi - i wouldn't mind but nothing in this post is true!  I knew commenting on Mr Reds greediness at the buffet would get me in trouble!

I got a text from Pokerron telling me to read this post -  I thought this was about the top I was wearing.... ::)

80-1 this is all porkies

800-1 Dingdell to win bb5

GFY

 ;scarymoment; lol

400-1 then

Surely you could only call it a top if it actually covered the top part of your body? How Markpenn kept his concentration during the heads up match goodness only knows :D

;)

He must've kept his head up!

Hmmmm.................now I was on Tom's table before the dinner break and whilst I know my observational skills may be a little off but I think I might have noticed Mr. Trumper sitting on old reds shoulder. So if you follow this through the rest of it is probably ficticious as well.

Mind you Tracey is well known for ravaging the buffet,  in fact Luton regulars are well known for taking it in turns to keep her in the final hand to ensure that the rest of us get the food...............needless to say judging by my waistline they have been picking on the wrong person again

OK, I admit it, it was a lie.(although strangely enough, the bit about Simon and the A9 was true) I was just testing myself. I'm trying to work up enough courage to tell the truth about Beverly Pace, aka cbass.

That, Mr Red I venture to suggest, would be a step too far, even for you.

Don't do it!

lol. Top post!

i demand the truth. or pistols at dawn. my dudgeon is high

Is it dressing to the left or right sir