Played poker over the weekend at Donkey Puncher's, who now has a kegerator with two taps of unlimited homebrewed wheat and IPA.

I was pretty impressed with the contraption that he put together himself. If there were an M&Merator, I'd be all set.

Now having a taste for SoCo limes thanks to alcanthang, I brought over a bottle of SoCo but no grenadine or lime juice at the bar, so we couldn't make it right. Because of the kegerator and DP's whiskey that smelled of permanent magic marker, the SoCo was saved for another time.

We only played two games -- no-limit Hold'em and no-limit Omaha Hi, both with $0.25/0.50 blinds. And many straddles.

I got off to a good start, flopping back-to-back sets. One won, one lost.

Cracked AA with JJ when flopping another set. The deck was really hitting me, and entirely coincidentally, when I dealt.

Why can't these hands be online?

Online poker is rigged.

I didn't get into any hands with DP (unlike the Hammer vs. Hammer that I lost last time). DP raised a hand with the Hammer, flopped a set, then rivered the Hammer boat.

Later in the evening we switched to Omaha, where I flopped a flush draw and gutshot straight, turned a set of Queens, then rivered a full house. I bet out $40 on the river, then when I was put all-in, I thought I was up against a flopped set. As soon as I called, I said, "You don't have quads, do you?"

He apologized and said he did.

He had two 7s, indeed flopped a set... then rivered a 7.

Live poker is rigged.

Or Omaha anyway.

Just after DP dealt, we had a $1 game (that increased a buck each round) of reaching into the muck for high card. Next round was low card. Then I contributed a combination of two cards, so J-10 was equal to A-7, but it confused all of us in our drunken states and probably should've been simplified to blackjack hands.

Sensing a lull, DP and I lit up the table with gay duets from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera, whose lyrics are universal enough that I claim can be used in response to any situation.

When the remote control was lost, for instance, DP could've said, "Where in the world have you been hiding?"

Phantom was on the brain because I'd just heard different lyrics from a Sydmonton workshop before it premiered, never knowing there were different lyrics. Same music with Sarah Brightman and Colm Wilkinson (before Michael Crawford), but weird-ass literary, laughable lyrics (so the current lyrics are laughable, but wait'll you hear the others). Here's a YouTube of "Angel of Music" to get you started. "These slaves of fashion/Screaming their vain praises." Bleah.

Ordering from Pete's Pizza was as delicious as usual, but the cheese caused some of us to fart uncontrollably ("help me make the music of the night" -- Phantom) and others to get so backed up that we ravaged our home toilets. One person had a vacation in DP's bathroom, saying he broke his record for longest continuous fart. The next person discovered that the farter's shit had come back in the toilet, it being so disgusting that the toilet rejected it. Or maybe it was like Lassie, trying to return to its owner.

The funniest moment of the night was still later in the evening, when I dealt hold'em and declared one unrevealed card from the second unshuffled deck acting as a wild card if anyone held that card.

It was revealed alongside the river card. One person bet hard, another called, then the first person threw his cards into the muck and said, "I fuckin' didn't understand the rules!" and ran to the bathroom.

He'd thought the card was wild in addition to board and held cards and kept his poker face till the end when he got called.

Alas, the guy who got drunk, donked $400, and pissed himself wasn't there, so we didn't have any wild hands and Mrs. DP didn't have to scrub urine from the hardwood floors. It's a tough call between the two, but one is almost worth the other. ("…the senses/Abandon their defenses" -- Phantom.)

When we became shorthanded and after the NCAA games, we ordered pay-per-view porn.

Playing cards is surprisingly relaxing while watching naked pillow fighting with busty blondes. ("What sweet seduction/lies before/us" -- Phantom.)

We bet on who would win, and contestants were shown in an extended montage in states of undress, 3-lb. free weights, and jump roping before entering the ring

That should've been the first warning. Anyone knows a pillow fight is on a bed. And of the four, only one was busty and one was not blonde -- not even "down there." We should've gotten our money back for the bait-and-switch, but felt compelled to see it to the end.

I picked Malibu who easily trounced her opponent by Round 2 against half-hearted throws. I kept yelling "the face! the face!" but realized that was probably against the rules.

I wasn't so lucky with my second choice of Cassidy, who practically threw in the towel when she was pinned in Round 4. The other girl from the streets grabbed both pillows and started whirlybirding my poor Cassidy with her unfair advantage of wearing tube socks. Apparently there were no judges, because any other nude pillowfighting contest would've called foul.

And just like the beginning of the poker evening, I won one pillow fight, lost one, and ultimately won $5 for the evening.

"Sometimes it seems/if I just dream" -- Phantom.