Blissed-Out Love Orgy 2015 (With MANY UPPER CASE LETTERS)
So I read at Blogging Out Loud Ottawa (HI LYNN) on Tuesday night and now it's Thursday and THIS is why I can't be a current-events blogger.
My friend Patti (HI PATTI) said about BOLO three (!!) years ago that reading there was a "small jump into a very soft landing", and that being nervous was silly. And I agree, but I was still nervous. But Pam picked me up so I didn't have to find the church or the parking lot or not down two gin and tonics for courage. We had dinner with Nat and Jennifer and Amanda, with so much laughter and loudness (and an incredibly patient waitress) that much of the nervousness drained away (and not just because of the gin), although a big part of me (and Nat) was saying "OR, we could just sit here and while the evening away in beer and idle chatter...."
Then we walked over to the church and tried to wander through the halls quietly and respectfully, looking for the right room. Then a small child bolted out in front of Jennifer and she said (ejaculated, really) "OH JESUS!", so we chucked the quiet part and a woman at the door remarked that we were really putting the Loud in Blogging Out Loud. She had curly gray hair and was wearing pearls all church-lady-ish, and I thought she might have meant it disapprovingly, but she totally dropped the f-bomb on me and Pam later while we were buying drinks from her, so it's all good.
Five - FIVE - of my non-blogging (NON-BLOGGING) friends (HI COLLETTE) drove DOWNTOWN, from BARRHAVEN, to watch me read. I feel like it really needs to be emphasized that they didn't know the event was licensed UNTIL THEY GOT THERE. Helen, my dance-mom friend who, come to think of it, is really just a friend since our daughters haven't danced together - or at all, in any organized capacity- for about four years - drove DOWNTOWN from KANATA, ALL ALONE, and she has driving anxiety just like me, and her GPS crapped out on her so she panicked and had to park in a garage which she hates. Did I mention she was ALL ALONE? I can't draw, I can't dance, I'm bad at math and my sense of direction is for shit, but I ROCK at picking friends.
I had to scan the room to see if enough people would get the part of the post that's only funny if you know me. I thought enough people probably would, so I left it in. And a bunch of people laughed, THANK GOD.
On the way out, a woman told me she loved my post and my hair. Of course, we all know intelligence and creativity is so much more important than hair, so the compliment on the post meant much more. Of course. (I am a sad, vain, petty creature).
I'm pretty sure that last year the podium covered everything from the boobs down, so I really just worked on looking good from the boobs up. I'm trying really hard (and mostly succeeding) not to let the 'oops-I-forgot-I-need-to-stop-being-so-fat' part of the evening overshadow the fizzy ginger-ale bubble joy.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. BOLO is awesome. And the waitresses at the Black Bear Pub are hot. The end.
My friend Patti (HI PATTI) said about BOLO three (!!) years ago that reading there was a "small jump into a very soft landing", and that being nervous was silly. And I agree, but I was still nervous. But Pam picked me up so I didn't have to find the church or the parking lot or not down two gin and tonics for courage. We had dinner with Nat and Jennifer and Amanda, with so much laughter and loudness (and an incredibly patient waitress) that much of the nervousness drained away (and not just because of the gin), although a big part of me (and Nat) was saying "OR, we could just sit here and while the evening away in beer and idle chatter...."
Then we walked over to the church and tried to wander through the halls quietly and respectfully, looking for the right room. Then a small child bolted out in front of Jennifer and she said (ejaculated, really) "OH JESUS!", so we chucked the quiet part and a woman at the door remarked that we were really putting the Loud in Blogging Out Loud. She had curly gray hair and was wearing pearls all church-lady-ish, and I thought she might have meant it disapprovingly, but she totally dropped the f-bomb on me and Pam later while we were buying drinks from her, so it's all good.
Five - FIVE - of my non-blogging (NON-BLOGGING) friends (HI COLLETTE) drove DOWNTOWN, from BARRHAVEN, to watch me read. I feel like it really needs to be emphasized that they didn't know the event was licensed UNTIL THEY GOT THERE. Helen, my dance-mom friend who, come to think of it, is really just a friend since our daughters haven't danced together - or at all, in any organized capacity- for about four years - drove DOWNTOWN from KANATA, ALL ALONE, and she has driving anxiety just like me, and her GPS crapped out on her so she panicked and had to park in a garage which she hates. Did I mention she was ALL ALONE? I can't draw, I can't dance, I'm bad at math and my sense of direction is for shit, but I ROCK at picking friends.
I had to scan the room to see if enough people would get the part of the post that's only funny if you know me. I thought enough people probably would, so I left it in. And a bunch of people laughed, THANK GOD.
On the way out, a woman told me she loved my post and my hair. Of course, we all know intelligence and creativity is so much more important than hair, so the compliment on the post meant much more. Of course. (I am a sad, vain, petty creature).
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| Photo credit: Nat Hanson |
I'm pretty sure that last year the podium covered everything from the boobs down, so I really just worked on looking good from the boobs up. I'm trying really hard (and mostly succeeding) not to let the 'oops-I-forgot-I-need-to-stop-being-so-fat' part of the evening overshadow the fizzy ginger-ale bubble joy.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. BOLO is awesome. And the waitresses at the Black Bear Pub are hot. The end.
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