"I shiver when you call me BITCH in caps"
0 Comments Published by katitude on Sunday, April 06, 2008 at 11:03 p.m..
Sometimes you have weekends that were so good, that come Monday you feel rested, relaxed, and yet recharged and ready to take on the world again.
This was one of those weekends.
On Friday night, my colleagues took me out for "my birthday"; really it was just a chance for us all to unwind after the week. And unwind we did. To paraphrase that old Campbell's Soup commercial, Guinness is good food.
Actually I unwound so much that I barely made it back for the Donkament. I'm very glad I did, as the rebuys were flying fast and furious and for once it wasn't me seeding the pot - I think I only had a total of 5 rebuys plus the add on. And for those who said my first was proof that it was rigged, all I can say is darlings, if it was rigged I'd have ITM'ed WAY more often than I have. Think of it more as the poker gods throwing me a bone.
I spent Saturday doing the usual stuff I do on Saturdays when Hunny Bunny is working. That is to say, nothing. SFA. Zip. Zilch. Zero. No scratch that, I think I knitted some. And watched TCM's Bette Davis marathon all day.
I did play the Dr. Pauly PLO game on Stars, and made the final table thanks to a bunch of gatecrashers (their word for it, not mine). One of them put a random bounty on my head because my name is Kat, and the ensuing private jokery made me get my stubborn on. In other words, you want the effing bounty? Work for it. I outlasted all but one, and made sure I busted to someone not in their circle.
PPPBBBTTTTT!
Sunday was a pretty amazing day here in the neighbourhood, the first real spring day. The plan was to take the bikes to the Bike Show, however Chaos Kitty had some issues and we drove instead. Boooo. But the show was good - lots of vintage and custom bikes on display, leather everywhere, and some great people watching.
I'd had an brief IM with Riggstad about poker addictiton/compulsion on Saturday when Full Tilt went down. I'll be frank, I've been a bit worried of late, wondering if I've tipped over the edge, from "I want to play poker with you donks" to "I have to/need to play poker with you donks".
But after at the show, I am no longer worried about being addicted to poker, because I know what I am truly addicted to.
Steel and chrome. The deep rumble of cruisers and the high pitched whine of crotch rockets. The smell of oil and gas and grease. The fit of leathers that have seen thousands of kilometers. The vibration that transmits from the engine to your core via handlebars and seat. The butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling of a deep curve. The promise of the unknown around a bend. The curvey, squiggley line on a map. The journey rather than the destination. The thrill of danger, the relief of successfully avoiding it. The necessary deletion of distractions and the ensuing clarity of thought. Grace.
It's time to ride.
This was one of those weekends.
On Friday night, my colleagues took me out for "my birthday"; really it was just a chance for us all to unwind after the week. And unwind we did. To paraphrase that old Campbell's Soup commercial, Guinness is good food.
Actually I unwound so much that I barely made it back for the Donkament. I'm very glad I did, as the rebuys were flying fast and furious and for once it wasn't me seeding the pot - I think I only had a total of 5 rebuys plus the add on. And for those who said my first was proof that it was rigged, all I can say is darlings, if it was rigged I'd have ITM'ed WAY more often than I have. Think of it more as the poker gods throwing me a bone.
I spent Saturday doing the usual stuff I do on Saturdays when Hunny Bunny is working. That is to say, nothing. SFA. Zip. Zilch. Zero. No scratch that, I think I knitted some. And watched TCM's Bette Davis marathon all day.
I did play the Dr. Pauly PLO game on Stars, and made the final table thanks to a bunch of gatecrashers (their word for it, not mine). One of them put a random bounty on my head because my name is Kat, and the ensuing private jokery made me get my stubborn on. In other words, you want the effing bounty? Work for it. I outlasted all but one, and made sure I busted to someone not in their circle.
PPPBBBTTTTT!
Sunday was a pretty amazing day here in the neighbourhood, the first real spring day. The plan was to take the bikes to the Bike Show, however Chaos Kitty had some issues and we drove instead. Boooo. But the show was good - lots of vintage and custom bikes on display, leather everywhere, and some great people watching.I'd had an brief IM with Riggstad about poker addictiton/compulsion on Saturday when Full Tilt went down. I'll be frank, I've been a bit worried of late, wondering if I've tipped over the edge, from "I want to play poker with you donks" to "I have to/need to play poker with you donks".
But after at the show, I am no longer worried about being addicted to poker, because I know what I am truly addicted to.
Steel and chrome. The deep rumble of cruisers and the high pitched whine of crotch rockets. The smell of oil and gas and grease. The fit of leathers that have seen thousands of kilometers. The vibration that transmits from the engine to your core via handlebars and seat. The butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling of a deep curve. The promise of the unknown around a bend. The curvey, squiggley line on a map. The journey rather than the destination. The thrill of danger, the relief of successfully avoiding it. The necessary deletion of distractions and the ensuing clarity of thought. Grace.
It's time to ride.
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