(Preface: Sorry, this grew in the writing. It's gotten a tad long. Don't say you weren't warned.)



Amen. Three days post-Bash and I'm still worn out, but holy shit, what a ride!

Yes, there was drinking - lots.

Yes, there was hugging - even more than the drinking.

Yes, there was ass-grabbing - however, not as much as you would think.

Yes, there was flashing - hey, I love the Clash, what can I say.

And yes there was snogging - lots. All good; one so good I was left weak in the knees.

Thanks to Al for setting up this edition of the Blogger Bacchanalia. Huge thanks to Astin for the ride down and to Evy for the accommodations; you two made it possible for me to even be there.

And to everyone I drank with, talked to and played with; thank you for making a middle aged broad feel fun and fabulous even if just for a weekend. My conversations and interactions with you all (and no, I'm not making a list as it's EVERYONE) are cherished.

And those cherished friends who could not make it were missed deeply. I woke up Monday morning filled with regret that we all live so far away, and the thought of waiting another 3 months to see you all again left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had to stop thinking about it. I'm thanking the powers that be for Astin (20 minutes away) and the Tuckfard gang (an hour away), whom I will hopefully be seeing in 2-4 weeks (right, guys?).

(this is where I begin to wax philosophical. You may want to bail now.)

Lately I'm finding that a trip's success isn't dependent on how many drinks I had, who I talked with, what game I played, who I hugged/kissed/ass-grabbed/flashed or who hugged/kissed/ass-grabbed/flashed me. Not to say however, that all those aren't +EV. Far from it.

No, a trip becomes more meaningful the more it makes me think. And I did a lot of thinking on the long, quiet ride to home. The very quiet ride home. There was little conversation as we all tried to recover.

I sat/laid in the back seat and replayed scenes from the Bash in my head. Some made me shiver, some made me cringe (note to self, don't think about that last SoCo shot while still recovering from that last SoCo shot), all made me smile and realize the extent of my good fortune to have stumbled upon and been accepted by this eclectic group of exceptional people.

Also did some internal poking and prodding, pondering the fickle nature of feminine ego and self esteem. Over the weekend I had people tell me I was beautiful, fun, talented, brave and amazing. It's a pity that deep down, I just don't believe them. My secret fear is that one day they'll all realize it's all just smoke and mirrors, and that really, I'm not all that.

Then I thought of the bike trip, and what happened to me both inside and out. And no, I still don't think I'm beautiful, fun, talented, brave or amazing; I'm just me. However, I am pretty damn comfortable now with what that is. And that really is enough.

****

One of my best memories of the Bash was sitting in at the upstairs bar talking to Otis. He asked, as so many do, about the trip to Alaska. It's difficult to explain, so I often just say "amazing" or "incredible", tell a quick anecdote and leave it at that. Like a photograph that fails to communicate the true scale and beauty of that wilderness, words fail to convey how the place got under my skin. But I tried anyway and told him of riding the highway between Haines, AK and Haines Junction, YK.

After I told my long winded and slightly weepy tale, we got into another conversation about writing. I was told not that I should write these stories or even that I need to, but that I had to. And I do believe he was right; I need release from the pressure of them crowding in my head.

So I've spent the morning writing. And it feels good.

Last seen upstairs at the Tyler James Pub on my face. No idea where I put them down, maybe around the back of the bar.

Reward if found - I'm not looking forward to shelling out for prescription lenses again. IM me at badkatitude at yahooo, or send me an email to badkatitude at gmail.

Many thanks.

Still in a post-Bash haze....more to come.


EDIT: The glasses were picked up by Al and will soon be back on my face. Al is my hero!

Home.

I know I should sleep as the young lovelies will crush me in my weakened state tomorrow; however am still too wired. I had such a good time. I know it's been said before and often, but these gatherings are far too brief and too far apart. I miss you all already.

I'm already yearning for the next one.

Consumption (as near as I can recall):

• Vodka and OJ.
• Another vodka and OJ.
• Beer.
• More beer.
• teqila shot.
• Beer.
• Water and Tylenol.
• Beer.
• Vodka and Red Bull.
• tequila shot.
• another vodka and Red Bull.
• tequila shot.
• SoCo shot (*shudder.... that's where I just about lost it.)
• yet another vodka and Red Bull.
• water and Tylenol.

High points:

• pretty much all of it.
  

Low points:

• misunderstod and over reacted to something. Had a hissy fit. walked away, cooled off, returned and apologised.
• lost my glasses and my mind

Long drive.

Astin's car is comfy and I had the back seat to myself. Knitting was done while we chatted and listened to Asin's most surreal playlist.

Quick dash into hotel (don't care if we're late, not wearing road clothes), then to tourney room where they are jsut getting started. A flurry of hugs, then at my table with DonK, Evy, Astin and others who I can't remember. Falstaff gets moved to our table and things go south from there.

the music was sucky and was getting a bit too sugary for me, so in my usual offhanded & unthinking way I ask:

Who do have to show my boobs to get some Clash played??

Falstaff, apparently. (Thanks babes, rocking playlist!)

I'd only had four beer at that point. No shots. Christ only knows what tonight will be like.

I'm actualy a little afraid.

I can't tell you how good it is to see (and hug) everyone. I wished I coulld split myself into 6 of me last night and put one on every table so I could sit and talk with everyone.

24 hours from now, I'll be on the road with Astin and Vinnay.

36 hours from now, I'll be playing poker and drinking adult beverages with like minded degenerates.

Seriously, that's all I can think about. I know I played the Mookie / Dookie combo last night and was on BDR, but don't remember a damn thing.

Just as well really. I'm sure I spewed drunken nonsense as usual. EDIT: Jordan's confirmed it. Drunken babblings and interruptions. Just another Mookie BDR night then.

Kudos to April for winning! And commiserations to Waffles on losing the bet. I was rooting for ya, babes!

Ok my mind has drifted back to the hundred and one things I have to do before meeting up with Astin in the morning to head to the Bash.

OMG, the Bash. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

****

I've got this song stuck in my head for a few days now. Unlike other songs that become earworms, thiis isn't even clsoe to bugging me yet.

Full Tilt Poker hates me.

I have been busted out of the last 3 MTT's I have played on Full Tilt with the same hand: my AA vs Villian's QQ:

1. Q on the river
2. Q on the river
3. Q on the turn.

FT, you're fucking kidding me, right?

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
~ attributed to Albert Einstein

Yeah, then I'm insane. I log in to Full Tilt every Friday night, somehow thinking that maybe this week will be different, that this week will be fun, that the poker gods might stop fucking with me. I play the rebuy with wild abandon (maybe that's my problem), donate far more than I am really comfortable losing (or maybe that's my problem), drink maybe one beer too many (oooh, maybe that's my problem), and have a bit of a laugh.

But then it turns. Often faster than a peri-menopausal woman's mood swing (trust me, I know whereof I speak on this one; so does Keith, poor man). I'll get screwed by a two-outer on the river and a switch will be thrown. I'll either rant or sign off in a snit, and then feel like a goober once I've cooled down. I'm not amused by the fact that online poker and hormones are turning me into a whiney bitch sore loser.

Time to do some (more) attitude adjustment. SSDD is getting old.

****

The Friday Night Bloggerment will play without me next week. Thanks to some help from some friends, I'm going to the Bash, bitches!

(insert wheeeeeeeeee here)

****

Weekend wrap-up:

Saturday was a very good day. One of my students invited Keith and I up to the Brantford Jazz festival to watch her perform.

This kid is incredible. There she is, 15 years old, standing on stage in front of 500-600 people belting out Frank Sinatra like she's done it for 50 years. As we sat in the sunshine watching her and the other 3 "young divas", I was struck by how todays kids are so much more sophisticated and confident than me and my friends were at that age. Thinking about how brief childhood seems to be now cast a bit of a shadow over the afternoon. But then when she raced up to us after the show, all hugs and laughter and OMG's, I realized that hell, no matter what, 15 is still 15; the rest is really jsut all show.

After the show was over, we went to Taylor and Tawny's for a BBQ in honour of Tawny's birthday. Lots of laughter made the evening special, as always. Thanks guys, and Tawny, I meant what I said - more live life, less online life!

****

Today did not start out to be a good day; in fact it was pretty damn close to being the worst day in 10 years. Luckily, an apology and a nap saved it (and me) from total disaster.

Part of the fallout of the day was a continuation of a long internal conversation about friends.

I have friends that I feel I've neglected. Karen, Jules and Tawny - I am truly sorry, and can only say I will definitely make more of an effort. Feel free to whack me upside the head if it happens again. I mean it.

I have a good friend that I can no longer talk with, and the loss has left a hole in my life. I will abide by their wishes, and hope that their life goes well and that someday we can pick up our friendship again. I miss you.

It's official.

All hope of having a fun Friday night on Full Tilt has been beaten out of me.

D friend sent me these today:

What happens when I'm behind someone I assume knows the difference between this:


and this:

I find that my assumptions are faulty, and next thing I know I'm asking that someone to at least help me pick up the bike.

Exchange of insurance information follows.

Bike ok. I'm ok. Just some very minor bruises, a killer headache and a great desire to tear someone a new one.

Later: Mood somewhat soothed by appropriate application of expensive bubble bath products and chocolate. Desire to kill has now subsided to occasional grumblings about stupid cagers who can't read signs.

Now if I can only get rid of the headache. I'm oh so glad I wear a full face helmet.

Is that the real Katitude?
~ a Pokerslut player who's name escapes me at the moment

Good lord, I'd hate to think there's fake ones out there. Poor things need help if so.

I played the PokerSlut Rebuy game last night, bringing my secret weapon with me - a year and a half of Friday Night Bloggerment rebuys.

Man, it was fun last night. It's a close group, and the comments were flying fast and furious in the table chat window. It took a while for my tablemates to grasp my "all in first 5 or 10 hands" rule. Limpers were mocked. I may not be asked to play another.

But that makes two (count 'em, TWO) one dollah rebuys that I've ITM-ed in in three days. That makes two (count 'em, TWO) times I made money playing poker this weekend.

God, I run good.

Last night was a night of watching my favourite cult movies. Repo Man, Bruce MacDonald's Road Kill (with a cameo by Joey Ramone), Rock n Roll High School, and Heathers.

This morning I am groggy after disturbing dreams of dead aliens, rabbits, Vince Van Patton and Christian Slater. I've never been so glad to wake up.

I played some poker last night, of the cheap and cheerful variety. As I watched bad movies, I knocked out enough people in a $3+.30 KO MTT to make back my money. The highlight was going all in with the hammer and having the biggest tard at the table call me with AA. The board came 227,2,7.

The fireworks were so pretty.

Oh, and guess what??? I CASHED in the Donkament!! I KNOW! Weird, eh? I think maybe the RNG felt sorry for me; I won 9 of the first 11 hands. I spent all of 6 bucks on the thing, a far cry from my usual 20-30-40.

Which luckily leaves me donking funds in my Full Tilt account, as I've just received notice that the flavour of tonight's PokerSlut tour is a one dollah rebuy. I can't decide...all in first five hands as usuall? Or should I make it ten and some some singles as sacrifices to the poker gods?


Decisions, decisions.

From the Jezebel blog:

The sister act behind "Barracuda," the song used by the McCain-Palin campaign in reference to Sarah Palin's "Barracuda" nickname, is none too pleased that their pro-woman anthem is being co-opted by the GOP. Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart sent a cease and desist letter to the McCain campaign, and, in reaction to last night's use of it, Nancy sent an angry letter to Entertainment Weekly, tearing Sarah Barracuda a new one. "I feel completely fucked over," she said. "Sarah Palin's views and values in NO WAY represent us as American women. We ask that our song 'Barracuda' no longer be used to promote her image. The song 'Barracuda' was written in the late 70s as a scathing rant against the soulless, corporate nature of the music business, particularly for women. (The 'barracuda' represented the business.) While Heart did not and would not authorize the use of their song at the RNC, there's irony in Republican strategists' choice to make use of it there."

And I don't even mean that facetiously for a change!

A HUGE congrats to the ever-fabulous, ever-luscious and extremely boobalicious Evy for placing 5th of 1200 in the Borgata Poker Event today.

Way to go chickie!!!

I may have to re-think my non-Bash plan, so's I can congratulate her in person *wicked grin.

Woke up at 3am with a sore throat.

Felt so shitty that I took a bus as there was no way I was riding feeling like that. It's embarassing falling over at stops.

Plodded through the first day back with what I know to be Strep Throat; I get it every. damn. year.

Went to the walk in clinic. Say it with me now - EEEW. So, so gross.

Waited.

Finally saw a very attractive (like this guy attractive) but very frazzled doctor and got the prescription for something called Biaxin. A penicillin allergy limits my options.

Took it to Shoppers. Waited some more.

Finally home. $70 for the Biaxin; thank god for drug plans. Opened the bottle and shook out two of these:


ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????

I have STREP THROAT, cannot even swallow TEA for gods sakes, and you braniacs give me pills the size of my little finger from tip to first joint???

This is gonna hurt.

Yes, it's true. I go back to work tomorrow.

Well, technically I was back to work last week, but I don't really count two staff meetings that I zoned out of really working.

The kidlets are back tomorrow; that's working.

And I'm really looking forward to it. Honest.

****

The road trip is often on my mind. Since I've been back, people have asked "did you have fun?", "are you relaxed?", or some variation on that theme.

Short answer:

No.

Longer answer:

It wasn't that kind of vacation.

Fun is Vegas and blogger gatherings. Relaxation is remote northern cottages.

A five-week motorcycle road trip is an experience, a challenge. I re-learned that I can do anything, and that the specter of on-coming middle age is not nearly as big as I perceived it to be. I discovered that even while one is physically cold/wet/tired/miserable, there is still room for awe and wonder. I regained a sense of perspective. I lined up all the things that give me stress and threw them all in the mental file folder called "Fuck It".

It's funny, out of all the folks who asked about the vacation, only one asked the right question: are you happy now?

Yep.

****

My nephew and his wife just bought a cottage in Northern Ontario, where I spent the Labour Day Weekend. It is water-access only, has no cell service, no electricity, no running water other than that which gravity supplies from the tank up on the hill, and a cozy little one-holer for all your biological evacuation needs.

It also has a wood-fired sauna and a propane-powered beer fridge down by the dock. It's on a quiet lake where most of the shoreline is still Crown Land and so can't be sold for development. There are fish in lake and they are still edible.

Perfection.

I saw bears and bald eagles. I swam and played with my great-nephew. I sat on the dock and watched the light change from a killer sunset to a myriad stars of a cloudless night.

The bazillion mosquito bites I got and dealing with the traffic on the way home was a small price to pay for this: