T-Minus Two Weeks!

You People Better Not Puss Out On This!

Two weeks until the Texas Blodger Bash in Austin. I'm definitely jazzed about it, but I'm getting that uneasy trepidatious feeling, too.

Seems to me there was a lot more fanfare and whoop-te-dos leading up to the previous Jawja Blodger events, and also the earlier Texas Blogfests. This one's been really low key, as far as I can tell. We've already got people dropping out, which is inevitable, I suppose. I'm kinda bummed Kurt's not coming. I was going to distract he & his wife with gifts of hard cider, then abscond with his Sable-coated Wigglehound.

It concerns me that so many rooms went unreserved, too. I mean, we got 40 people on the "I'm gonna be there" list, and only... what... 10? live close enough that they can crash at home. So, there's a whole lotta attendees that I guess will be sleeping under the Congress St. bridge with the 1.2 million Mexican freetailed bats. Mind the guano, guys. You'll never get it off that suede jacket...

I can't say I'm entirely thrilled about the free-form schedule. I know better than to try and wrangle 30+ bloggers into anything more structured than "Be in this town on these dates", but I was really looking forward to some serious face time in one location, punctuated by the occasional meal/sleep break. Having everyone depart for random locations in the Austin area kinda defeats the purpose of gathering bloggers together, doncha think?

There's talk of going shooting, which I'm all OK with. Shoe wants to go to Eeyore's Birthday, which I just can't abide. Ever see the South Park episode where Cartman has to invade the hippie music festival? Story of my life, dude. Life imitates art. No effin' way I can deal with that much concentrated liberalism and patchouli oil.

I'll have my portable bar with me. I think I'll be stocking the makings for gin & tonics, Key Lime Pies, maybe some scotch and some rum. Maybe bourbon. Hard to say what I'll be in the mood for when I'm loading up the Caddy.

Sigh. Guess we'll just play it by ear. A little shootin', a little drinkin', a little gripin'. Heh. Sounds just like a normal weekend at home...

Oh, yeah. One more thing. Had a dream the other night where I was out with a group of people and helped toast a really huge doobie full of really great weed. I apparently enjoyed myself immensely, and was able to rationalize my behavior somehow. Dreams never involve random urinalysis, so... if you happen to bring along the wacky tobacky, do NOT allow me indulge, no matter how well I debate the unlikely statistics of being called to pee in a cup out of a pool of 22,000+ employees. Just. Say. No. Thanks!