Calling Patti Beadles...

In today's Morning Fix, Mark Morford declares a need to start a home poker game:

I want to gather a cluster of a few friends every week and have them bring buckets of spare change and whip up some exceptional food and enjoy much laughter and discussion and raunchy jokes and music and expensive scotch, and stay up too late until the last hand is played out and the last drop of whiskey is enjoyed and everyone goes home buzzed and askew and tired.

Mark seems to think that poker is some kind of Guy Thing, and that it's really about drinking booze and talking sex, with the cards being a kind of ritualistic glue.

Poker night. Once a week, lasting any number of hours, booze and cards and munchies and a handful of close friends, maybe a couple rotating slots for newbies. It would be beautiful and good and as I am in deep appreciative love with the female species I would happily welcome a woman to the table. Or three.

But then again, maybe not. Not that no fine callipygian card goddesses exist who could drink adeptly and bluff skillfully and appreciate the upscale whiskey-tasting experiments and more than hold her own when discussing hardcore sex and politics and religion and the cornering ability of fine European automobiles.

Does this sound like anyone we know?