It's three (four?) days later and I still have that bleeping "Mr. Brightside" song slamming around in my skull. I hate you all. I'd have preferred "wrapped up like a douche." Did anyone else know it's actually "revved up like a deuce?" I didn't 'til now.
I feel like I'm trailing life by a furlong or so, trying to catch up on events that transpired during my Lost Weekend while also fielding reams of homework assignments from AJ's kindergarten, not to mention scheduling parent conferences and ordering school photos and fundraising (anybody wanna buy a cheesecake?). He's reading 20 minutes a night ON TOP of the homework which means there's really no place to put poker in this little scenario (unless you have Monday off and can sneak into the Hoy to pull out a 2nd place finish) and there's barely enough time to watch the A's clinch. Add to that, I've been fighting this cough for a few weeks. I finally got to the doctor for some antibiotics which have put me on the teeter-totter of phlegm. In the mornings, I'm all stopped up and it takes me a few hours to clear the plumbing. After that, I'm as dry and dehydrated as a bone. I'm also still looking for my first solid post-Bash bowel movement. That Yuengling knows how to grease the skids, or skid the greases.
It's too bad about the lack of poker time, 'cause I'm playing g00t. Comfortable, not getting myself into too many marginal situations, making good laydowns. The main change is that I've pulled back the aggression a bit, picking up pots with more of a three yards and a cloud of dust mentality than going for the Hail Mary. I've had a tendency to go blind in big pots, where the amount of money invested defines the decision rather than actually working through the mechanics of the hand and settling on a read. A few times recently, I've shut it down correctly, leaving me with a flesh wound to the chip stack, but still in the runnin'. Now if I can just resist that urge to bluff AlCantFold off a weak ace.
I wish I could write more about the Bash. I've sorta tried. But my memory of events is poor. All I know for sure is that I'm appreciative of whatever events have conspired to bring me into contact such such a diverse and generous group of people. My life is enriched (and was even, dare I say, saved) by your friendships, your willingness to lend a hand or an ear and by all the laughter. It truly is, for me, the best medicine. For those of you whom I met for the first time, it was a pleasure. I hope to see you again at future events and I hope you were able to experience what has made these gatherings so special. If not, I have a pic of drizz's Captain Morgan's underpants and that should do the trick. Just shoot me an e-mail.
Last but not least, a public show of massive gratitude to Donny Primetime for coming down and melting effortlessly into the spirit of the proceedings. As I repeated over and over to all of you, we've known each other since Little League and I was not only ecstatic to see him (and his family on Sunday), but proud to introduce him to all of you as my best friend. And if you learned some 20-year-old humiliations about me, so be it. Next time Donny meets the bloggers, we'll tell stories about him. Or you can just shoot me an e-mail.