I realize I've been a failure of a blogger in 2013. It's been a really hectic year. Cliff notes: Still not smoking. Mom to a beautiful boy, Carter. Living in Gulfport, MS. Incandescently happy.
But this long overdue post isn't about me.. Its about a little girl. I'll copy and paste from my Facebook post:
"Warning! I'm about to solicit some Christmas help! I went on a quest this holiday season to find a family we could help a little. I found several little ways to do small things, and I'm glad I was able to. Only today, at the last minute, have I found a family that could use some Christmas cheer from all of us. Ryli is an 8 year old girl from Pass Christian, MS. Her parents have both abandoned her in favor of meth. Ryli lives with her 60 year old grandmother who presses clothes at a local cleaner. They have a roof over their heads and food to eat, but not a penny to spare for presents or even a tree. Ryli LOVES Barbies. Her dream is to have a Barbie dream house (She has no idea how expensive they are!). She needs clothing. Grandma is horrified at the idea of anyone considering them a charity case. Do you remember being 8? She deserves a happy holiday. I am taking small donations.. $1, $5.. whatever you can spare towards a Barbie dream house and a few essentials. I have set up a PayPal donation link below. I will donate the contents of my PayPal account as well (It isn't much.. only about $50). We only have 24 hours or so to realistically put this together. I will post a screen shot of all account donations AND receipts from purchases for total transparency. If you want to pay by check or cash, pledge an amount and I'll cover it with my own funds. If we don't raise enough for a dream house, what we do raise will be spent on toys and clothes. If you can't donate, please repost this. Thanks in advance for your help! (If you'd rather donate a specific item, message me and we'll work that out too!). We gotta do this fast. Count your blessings and if you have enough left over to share a smidge, join me."
Tonight, in our last minute plight, we raised enough to purchase a deluxe Barbie Dream Home, 2 Barbie dolls and some stickers. I currently have $95 remaining to spend and will use it to purchase as many clothing items and necessary household items as I can with the remainder of the donations.
Pictures of all purchases and receipts are posted, as I get them, on Facebook.
Thank you to everyone who donated. For those of you who are still looking for a Christmas miracle to participate in.. even $1 can make an impact. I will personally email every donor a picture of what their funds purchased.
You may donate here: PayPal Christmas Fund or send to my email BellaDonkey@gmail.com
Lets do what we can for little Ryli this Christmas. Thank you all!
And since this thing still works.. ya'll can look for an actual update this week. Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Gender Eve, Change of Plans, More Blogs Forecasted
Tonight is Gender-Eve in our household. Which is the precise night before we find out the gender of our currently ambiguous baby, making his or her appearance mid-fall. Yes, boys and girls, I'm pregnant. I don't really need to explain HOW this happened (Do I?), or WHEN this happened. I will say that Steven and I are very happy. A bit surprised, but happy to wander into the unknown and tackle this parent thing head-on.
We weren't planning on having a child right now. Maybe some day in the very distant future. Apparently quitting smoking catapults your fertility into oblivion, making it capable of overriding even the most fastidious protection methods.
But really, I'm 32. He's 28. We're employed. We have money in savings. We have vehicles that run (fingers crossed!). Family for moral support. We love each other. Why not?
I know that I could spend the rest of my life with this man, and never question it. He's definitely "the one" for me. So why not? Parenthood, here with come!
Our immediate plans are to settle in Gulf Coast, Mississippi. We're looking to buy somewhere in the Gulfport or Long Beach area. Maybe Biloxi. Continue to travel with the WSOP some, deal here some and maybe utilize our educations a bit. Ultimately though, we still want to hit the Florida poker market and migrate towards warmer, sunnier climate. Maybe once the Walnut is school age.
We are both going to Vegas this summer.. though I'll be big as a house. And then to the WPO in Tunica, MS. After that, I may go into hibernation for the remainder of the year while he steps out a bit for various events (if necessary).
I won't bog the blog down with gritty pregnancy details. Though we're purely a couple formed through the poker world, I can't imagine a primarily poker playing demographic wants to hear about how I'd slay someone for Mexican food right now. If you're interested in following along, finding out more about the Walnut and whatnot, feel free to add me (or him!) on Facebook.
Needless to say, this is a big change for me. Those of you who know me, or even those who have just followed through the blog over the last few years, know that I've always been footloose and fancy free. A relationship was a stretch for me.. much less, a SERIOUS relationship. But things change.. and really, there is something different with this one. I chased this man down since the first conversation we had. I fell in love first. Head over heels really. I moved mountains to put myself in his path and win him over. And though he was never far behind me on any sentiment or idea... this is the first time in my life I've been 1,000% sure that I want something. Someone.
I couldn't be happier. Even when I'm bawling because the pregnancy has made me a temporary nutt bar.
So I won't be traveling the world, at least with as much frequency. But I will have more time to devote to my writing. I certainly have more time for reading. Please message me your recommendations for what blogs I need to add to my blogroll, or feel free to link your own below. Hopefully, I'll be seeing much more of all of you now.
Thanks for reading!
 |
| An accomplishment, indeed! |
We weren't planning on having a child right now. Maybe some day in the very distant future. Apparently quitting smoking catapults your fertility into oblivion, making it capable of overriding even the most fastidious protection methods.
 |
| Look at us. Un-pregnant smokers. Little did we know... |
But really, I'm 32. He's 28. We're employed. We have money in savings. We have vehicles that run (fingers crossed!). Family for moral support. We love each other. Why not?
I know that I could spend the rest of my life with this man, and never question it. He's definitely "the one" for me. So why not? Parenthood, here with come!
 |
| I know I joke all the time, but really, he is the greatest man I know. And I have fun with him. That's pretty much all the convincing I needed. Oh and he does dishes too. SCORE! |
Our immediate plans are to settle in Gulf Coast, Mississippi. We're looking to buy somewhere in the Gulfport or Long Beach area. Maybe Biloxi. Continue to travel with the WSOP some, deal here some and maybe utilize our educations a bit. Ultimately though, we still want to hit the Florida poker market and migrate towards warmer, sunnier climate. Maybe once the Walnut is school age.
We are both going to Vegas this summer.. though I'll be big as a house. And then to the WPO in Tunica, MS. After that, I may go into hibernation for the remainder of the year while he steps out a bit for various events (if necessary).
I won't bog the blog down with gritty pregnancy details. Though we're purely a couple formed through the poker world, I can't imagine a primarily poker playing demographic wants to hear about how I'd slay someone for Mexican food right now. If you're interested in following along, finding out more about the Walnut and whatnot, feel free to add me (or him!) on Facebook.
Needless to say, this is a big change for me. Those of you who know me, or even those who have just followed through the blog over the last few years, know that I've always been footloose and fancy free. A relationship was a stretch for me.. much less, a SERIOUS relationship. But things change.. and really, there is something different with this one. I chased this man down since the first conversation we had. I fell in love first. Head over heels really. I moved mountains to put myself in his path and win him over. And though he was never far behind me on any sentiment or idea... this is the first time in my life I've been 1,000% sure that I want something. Someone.
I couldn't be happier. Even when I'm bawling because the pregnancy has made me a temporary nutt bar.
So I won't be traveling the world, at least with as much frequency. But I will have more time to devote to my writing. I certainly have more time for reading. Please message me your recommendations for what blogs I need to add to my blogroll, or feel free to link your own below. Hopefully, I'll be seeing much more of all of you now.
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
"You Love Angry Birds More Than Me" - I am a Non-Smoker.
Last night I sat at the bar with a cigarette laying in front of me, wondering for a full thirty minutes if I was going to smoke it. It's always hardest when drinking, but there was a test of wills at stake as well. Steven and I were a few shots deep, the people we were hanging out with had already left.. No one would know. We could slip, for just a second, and really no harm would come of it. It sort of became the purple elephant-in-the-room until I went to grab it, figuring I'd be doing us both a favor by lighting the damn thing already. Before I could, Steven snatched it and snapped in in two. The second he did, he looked as if he'd made a terrible decision. Had his eyes welled with tears, I wouldn't have been surprised. But they didn't. He's only a hair more resolute than I am with this whole not-smoking fiasco.
We've both been smoke free for two months, give or take a few days.
I didn't want to quit. Hell, I may start back some day. But I hope not. For me, it was about finding something that I loved and desired more than the cigarettes. And make no mistake.. If ever someone was loyal to a Marlboro Menthol Light, it was THIS girl. Not to imply that I quit for Steven. Hardly. You can't quit for a guy. J and I (The last most significant ex, for newer readers) talked about quitting for eons and it never stuck. And it wasn't for lack of affection for him, it just never happened. Steven never asked me to put them down. He made the decision to do it himself, and he was simply done. He never made any requests of me or even subtle suggestions.
This was different. I saw his resolve, despite it being hard for him, and I was inspired. There is no parade when you quit smoking. Quite the contrary.. You don't tell many people because half of them will be naysayers, suggesting your failure during the toughest first days.. some will offer you a smoke with the best of intentions and even worse; you don't want to broadcast it too prominently in case you DO fail. So without fanfare, I watched Steven choose this struggle that to non-smokers seems like a no-brainer and to smokers seems ludicrous, and it occurred to me that if I ever wanted non-judgmental, unwavering support from someone who always wants me to succeed I had to do it NOW. The vain girl in my brain pictured him becoming a non-smoker while I lit up day after day next to him in the car or hotel room, and slowly becoming more repulsive in his eyes. The smell of my hair and skin sickening him, or worse, tempting him to relapse. It was 24 hours, give or take an hour, after he smoked his last that I did the same.
Not only does his strength and resolve inspire me, but I want to be the best version of myself I possibly can be. Not just for me, but for him too. He deserves it.
This is my first attempt at quitting. Yes, I've heard it all about it taking multiple attempts before you finally get it right. Maybe I'll relapse and this entire blog post becomes embarrassing. The thing that makes it so challenging is the lack of oversight. There is no committee set up to issue fines if you break your vow to never strike another match. Just like quitting comes without fanfare, so does smoking. You don't have to face an inquisition or even a parade for buying a pack. You can do it whenever you like and face absolutely no immediate consequence. That makes it SO easy.
I don't mean to imply that every day is agony. Far from it. Most of the time I don't even think about smoking anymore. There is nothing to stop me from smoking. I can go buy a pack now and smoke the whole thing and I wouldn't owe even an explanation, to anyone. I think THAT is what makes this so different from most challenges. You are only accountable to yourself. Smoking is awesome, when you're a smoker. It relaxes you, it tastes amazing and you become part of a club where the members have no idea how disgusting they really are. Once you decide to quit, your membership card to that club isn't revoked, but now you get a glimpse of how repulsive the membership makes you. You have a choice to make. Lighting a cigarette is CHOOSING to be disgusting. To be in pain. To die of cancer. You can no longer delude yourself with the kid philosophy that you're not addicted and you can "quit at any time", because once you've made the decision to quit and then failed.. You've acknowledged that this is so much bigger than you. There is something far more sinister about CHOOSING to be repulsive, unhealthy and full of failure. All for what?'
The physical addiction is fleeting. The shortest part. After that, the psychological warfare can go on for a lifetime. I mourned the loss of cigarettes as if a good friend had died. And really, they had. Marlboro and I spent a lot of time together. Quite often at my most alone, most depressed and most exhausted is when I counted on Marlboro the most. And they never let me down. It was a $6 relationship I could call on any time I wanted that never stood me up.
For Steven, putting down the cigarettes was the passing of something more symbolic. The ability to make kid-decisions with abandon. A total lack of concern for the future or adult hood because the realities of repercussion were a distant possibility. Suddenly repercussion was all around him and instead of staring off a million years down the road, he is faced with the reality of his mortality. Grow up now, kid, or in five to ten years you won't be able to breathe. In 15 years you'll be facing yearly scans for lung spots. If you have any desire to be a parent, you won't be able to throw the ball around with your kids. You're not 21 any more. The approaching of 30 seemed to be the corner in his brain between "stupid twenty-something debauchery" and "this is my life", and he decided to be a non-smoker.
For those of you quitting yourself, or considering taking the leap, don't misunderstand what I've written here to imply that having someone to share the agony with is necessary. Or even easier. Make no mistake, there were a few days after we'd first given up the sticks that I truly believe a grisly homicide might occur. We don't really fight, the two of us. When we argue or disagree, we don't yell or throw things or stomp around or make ridiculous declarations. There is a lot of silence and discussion and sometimes wandering elsewhere to clear our heads usually. However, I think on nicotine-free day 3 (the hardest for me) I recall standing at the foot of our bed and yelling that he loved Angry Birds more than me before flinging myself dramatically from the hotel room and down the hall into a 3 am morning in Atlantic City, New Jersey. In December. This is insanity for many reasons, the first and foremost being that the man MAYBE plays Angry Birds once or twice a week. For a whole ten minute marathon. Secondly, I put it on his phone because I play it. Third, I don't give a damn what he does. I don't need a constant barrage of attention or have any need to control his time. But for some reason in that instant, I lost my mind. Absolutely gone. It was the end of the world and my boyfriend had chosen Angry Birds over our life together.
I quietly slipped back into the room 45 minutes later. He slept with one hand on my side all night long. This was partially out of affection for me, and partially so he would know where I was at all times. The man is smart.
The homicidal phase passed around a week later. After that its just a maintenance phase. Cravings surprise me. Not in their strength or intensity. Quite the opposite. Cravings are subtle. Little caressing whispers in your ear saying "Mmmmm, a cigarette would be delicious right now". So subtle that it starts to manifest as if it was YOUR idea instead of a compulsive desire, and suddenly you can't remember if you want one or not. I've found that acknowledging the craving and really focusing on it makes it harder to cope with. My way of not letting it sneak up on me. When this happens, I'll say out loud "Man, I really want a cigarette! Lets go buy a pack!" knowing Steven will say no. This is my way of sorting it out. Of course, I probably sound like a fiend always jonesing to him.. but as long as I'm not smoking, who cares how I get there, right?
Everyone talks about how food will taste SO much better, and you'll feel SO much better and how life will be grander and happier and full of rainbows and puppies and unicorns if you quit. I think this is a lie that people who've quit tell themselves to make their NEW clubhouse seem special. None of these things have happened for me yet. If food tasted better its because I was eating five times as much. You gain weight, you feel bloated, ankles that once displayed impeccable bone structure may or may not swell from excessive potato chip consumption or other sodium absorption. It isn't pretty.
I can, however, breathe a little deeper. I am proud of myself. And after a month or so, you stop wanting to eat every thing in sight. If the depression from a 20 pound weight gain doesn't launch you back into smoking, you may even find yourself ready to tackle diet and exercise around month two.
And that's where we are right now, in my journey towards staying a non-smoker. A lot of you are going through, have been through or are considering taking the plunge. Feel free to drop me a message. Wage your homicidal thoughts on me. I get it.
I'll be back later. Hopefully sooner than four months from now, which seems to be the last time I posted. My apologies for that. Thanks for still reading and reposting, as always. <3
We've both been smoke free for two months, give or take a few days.
 |
| Though smoking IS good for weight loss, I'm not interested so much in the above look. |
I didn't want to quit. Hell, I may start back some day. But I hope not. For me, it was about finding something that I loved and desired more than the cigarettes. And make no mistake.. If ever someone was loyal to a Marlboro Menthol Light, it was THIS girl. Not to imply that I quit for Steven. Hardly. You can't quit for a guy. J and I (The last most significant ex, for newer readers) talked about quitting for eons and it never stuck. And it wasn't for lack of affection for him, it just never happened. Steven never asked me to put them down. He made the decision to do it himself, and he was simply done. He never made any requests of me or even subtle suggestions.
 |
| Though we do kinda look adorable all dead and stuff.. |
This was different. I saw his resolve, despite it being hard for him, and I was inspired. There is no parade when you quit smoking. Quite the contrary.. You don't tell many people because half of them will be naysayers, suggesting your failure during the toughest first days.. some will offer you a smoke with the best of intentions and even worse; you don't want to broadcast it too prominently in case you DO fail. So without fanfare, I watched Steven choose this struggle that to non-smokers seems like a no-brainer and to smokers seems ludicrous, and it occurred to me that if I ever wanted non-judgmental, unwavering support from someone who always wants me to succeed I had to do it NOW. The vain girl in my brain pictured him becoming a non-smoker while I lit up day after day next to him in the car or hotel room, and slowly becoming more repulsive in his eyes. The smell of my hair and skin sickening him, or worse, tempting him to relapse. It was 24 hours, give or take an hour, after he smoked his last that I did the same.
Not only does his strength and resolve inspire me, but I want to be the best version of myself I possibly can be. Not just for me, but for him too. He deserves it.
This is my first attempt at quitting. Yes, I've heard it all about it taking multiple attempts before you finally get it right. Maybe I'll relapse and this entire blog post becomes embarrassing. The thing that makes it so challenging is the lack of oversight. There is no committee set up to issue fines if you break your vow to never strike another match. Just like quitting comes without fanfare, so does smoking. You don't have to face an inquisition or even a parade for buying a pack. You can do it whenever you like and face absolutely no immediate consequence. That makes it SO easy.
I don't mean to imply that every day is agony. Far from it. Most of the time I don't even think about smoking anymore. There is nothing to stop me from smoking. I can go buy a pack now and smoke the whole thing and I wouldn't owe even an explanation, to anyone. I think THAT is what makes this so different from most challenges. You are only accountable to yourself. Smoking is awesome, when you're a smoker. It relaxes you, it tastes amazing and you become part of a club where the members have no idea how disgusting they really are. Once you decide to quit, your membership card to that club isn't revoked, but now you get a glimpse of how repulsive the membership makes you. You have a choice to make. Lighting a cigarette is CHOOSING to be disgusting. To be in pain. To die of cancer. You can no longer delude yourself with the kid philosophy that you're not addicted and you can "quit at any time", because once you've made the decision to quit and then failed.. You've acknowledged that this is so much bigger than you. There is something far more sinister about CHOOSING to be repulsive, unhealthy and full of failure. All for what?'
 |
| I gotta give you credit for one thing, Marlboro, you were always faithful. <3 |
The physical addiction is fleeting. The shortest part. After that, the psychological warfare can go on for a lifetime. I mourned the loss of cigarettes as if a good friend had died. And really, they had. Marlboro and I spent a lot of time together. Quite often at my most alone, most depressed and most exhausted is when I counted on Marlboro the most. And they never let me down. It was a $6 relationship I could call on any time I wanted that never stood me up.
For Steven, putting down the cigarettes was the passing of something more symbolic. The ability to make kid-decisions with abandon. A total lack of concern for the future or adult hood because the realities of repercussion were a distant possibility. Suddenly repercussion was all around him and instead of staring off a million years down the road, he is faced with the reality of his mortality. Grow up now, kid, or in five to ten years you won't be able to breathe. In 15 years you'll be facing yearly scans for lung spots. If you have any desire to be a parent, you won't be able to throw the ball around with your kids. You're not 21 any more. The approaching of 30 seemed to be the corner in his brain between "stupid twenty-something debauchery" and "this is my life", and he decided to be a non-smoker.
For those of you quitting yourself, or considering taking the leap, don't misunderstand what I've written here to imply that having someone to share the agony with is necessary. Or even easier. Make no mistake, there were a few days after we'd first given up the sticks that I truly believe a grisly homicide might occur. We don't really fight, the two of us. When we argue or disagree, we don't yell or throw things or stomp around or make ridiculous declarations. There is a lot of silence and discussion and sometimes wandering elsewhere to clear our heads usually. However, I think on nicotine-free day 3 (the hardest for me) I recall standing at the foot of our bed and yelling that he loved Angry Birds more than me before flinging myself dramatically from the hotel room and down the hall into a 3 am morning in Atlantic City, New Jersey. In December. This is insanity for many reasons, the first and foremost being that the man MAYBE plays Angry Birds once or twice a week. For a whole ten minute marathon. Secondly, I put it on his phone because I play it. Third, I don't give a damn what he does. I don't need a constant barrage of attention or have any need to control his time. But for some reason in that instant, I lost my mind. Absolutely gone. It was the end of the world and my boyfriend had chosen Angry Birds over our life together.
 |
| My crazy Non-Nictotined brain saw her as the 'other woman'. |
I quietly slipped back into the room 45 minutes later. He slept with one hand on my side all night long. This was partially out of affection for me, and partially so he would know where I was at all times. The man is smart.
The homicidal phase passed around a week later. After that its just a maintenance phase. Cravings surprise me. Not in their strength or intensity. Quite the opposite. Cravings are subtle. Little caressing whispers in your ear saying "Mmmmm, a cigarette would be delicious right now". So subtle that it starts to manifest as if it was YOUR idea instead of a compulsive desire, and suddenly you can't remember if you want one or not. I've found that acknowledging the craving and really focusing on it makes it harder to cope with. My way of not letting it sneak up on me. When this happens, I'll say out loud "Man, I really want a cigarette! Lets go buy a pack!" knowing Steven will say no. This is my way of sorting it out. Of course, I probably sound like a fiend always jonesing to him.. but as long as I'm not smoking, who cares how I get there, right?
Everyone talks about how food will taste SO much better, and you'll feel SO much better and how life will be grander and happier and full of rainbows and puppies and unicorns if you quit. I think this is a lie that people who've quit tell themselves to make their NEW clubhouse seem special. None of these things have happened for me yet. If food tasted better its because I was eating five times as much. You gain weight, you feel bloated, ankles that once displayed impeccable bone structure may or may not swell from excessive potato chip consumption or other sodium absorption. It isn't pretty.
 |
| Gangrene, incidentally, is also not pretty. Does anyone actually know someone who got gangrene from smoking? I mean really. Come on. |
And that's where we are right now, in my journey towards staying a non-smoker. A lot of you are going through, have been through or are considering taking the plunge. Feel free to drop me a message. Wage your homicidal thoughts on me. I get it.
 |
| Marlboro should be forced to send me one of these. You know, as an apology for the COPD I'll probably still get. |
Saturday, September 8, 2012
My New Friend the Skink, Ante Up Cruise, 24 Hour Jaunt to Jersey and More.
I currently have a no-contact order against a blue tailed skink. One has taken up residence on my front porch. This is unfortunate, as this is my favorite place of refuge multiple times throughout the day. He seems as distraught by my presence as I am his, though, so hopefully we're able to come to a mutual division of assets and maintain a comfortable civil arrangement.
I just finished up dealing the Ante Up Cruise with the crew from the magazine. It was amazing. I don't know what I expected a "poker" cruise to be like, but I can't believe it's taken me this long to find out. I can't stress it enough.. you MUST go on one of these cruises. The next one I'll be on is Feb. 4-8th, leaving from Port Canaveral, Florida. I would love for some of you to come along.
The first day was spent at sea evading Hurricane Isaac. We dealt and played poker all day long, shared cocktails with friends and enjoyed the pretty awesome food aboard the Monarch of the Seas. The next day, Poker News Senior Editor and friend, Chad Holloway and I took our Moms to Nassau for shopping. (We both had our Moms as our dates aboard the ship!). The afternoon was spend zipping along on Jet Skis off the coast of Cabbage Beach behind the Atlantis Casino and Resort.
The following day was spent at CoCo Cay. Eric Terpening, Heather Mae and I went snorkeling and despite clearly defined barriers.. immediately slipped off the shelf into "no man's land" and came face to face with a mutant Manta Ray. When Terp pointed it out, I literally couldn't see it because everything was dark in front of me. Then, in slow motion, as the current rippled it's arm/fin/skin flap thing.. I realized the darkness WAS the Manta Ray. It was the single most awesome and terrifying moment of my existence. Only heightened by the sheer terror I saw on the faces of my co-snorkelers as I realized a smaller (but still Volkswagen sized) Manta Ray had settled onto the sand directly beneath my feet. It was pretty amazing. We saw barracuda, eel and box jelly fish. We were attacked, rather viciously, by some variety of large tropical fish. I couldn't have had a better day.
The remainder of the cruise was spent in the poker room. It's amazing how you can board a ship with a handful of familiar faces and leave with dozens of friends. It might have something to do with the fact that no one can escape. These cruises are worth every penny they cost.. (And really, at around $350 a person, it's a bargain). I can't stress enough.. PLEASE come join us. You haven't lived until you've partied with the Ante Up Crew. For more information, please visit www.anteupmagazine.com.
Following my Bahamas experience, I went and visited my sister in Destin for a minute. My brother in law just returned from Afghanistan and it was nice to see him safely back stateside. Then a quick trip to return Mom to Memphis, and in less than 24 hours I was back on the coast to kill 36 hours with the always fun PK. In dealer world we're practically neighbors, and when I realized I had no specific plans for Labor Day.. it made perfect sense to recruit/force-by-guilt-trip him into spending the afternoon playing air hockey and seeing Possession with me. Time well spent. If you have the pleasure of having him deal to you, feel privileged. He's one of the good guys.
Speaking of good guys.. Chris Quan busted his ass to get me lined up to deal at the Borgata in Atlantic City. After leaving the coast, I rushed back to Memphis, pulled a quick dealing shift at an unspecified location and then immediately left the game to board a plane to Jersey. With almost zero sleep, I was quickly running on empty. On the flight out there I was rather delirious. So it's no surprise when I saw a strapping young gentleman assisting every lady over 40 with her luggage, that I'd pop off with some smart ass comment about him being on a work-release program. Instead of him being offended, he laughed. I knew then that we'd end up friends. But sleep was taking priority and I quickly forgot about my new travel buddy. It was when he heroically returned my driver's license (I'd dropped it without noticing) that I made the effort to chat him up a bit. Sarasota Greg made the second half of my flight a lot more enjoyable. He's interesting and smart and as charming as a Yankee can be. ;) Welcome to my blog, new facebook buddy! (P.S. I DID mention that almost everything I do ends up publicly spread all over the internet, didn't I? Oh I didn't? My bad.)
So now I'm in Jersey. At the prestigious Borgata WPT event. I'm THRILLED! All set to deal.. make new friends and continue to take the poker world by storm right?! Nope. Apparently if you've ever been married and divorced, you must have copies of your marriage and divorce decrees in order to obtain a Jersey gaming license. Yeah.. let me just grab those out of my purse. Oh wait. I don't carry those with me. FOILED. I spent the afternoon walking on the beach with Andy Lee, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. I still hadn't slept, so I was a swirling vortex of tears and heartbroken declarations. 12 hours later.. Yep. Back on a plane to Memphis.
I came home and slept 15 hours. Woke up. Turned over. Slept 15 hours more. And now we're here. I have no immediate plans. Going to play in a poker tournament with the illustrious Scott Williams tomorrow. Gonna go down to Bossier for the WSOP circuit stop and harass my dealer friends, have dinner with Bob Talbot, and hopefully run into Kenny Milam (Who I've been promising a blog mention for over a year now!) and perhaps take HIM to dinner. Right now my tentative plans include kidnapping PK after the event wraps up and road tripping down to Florida for some poker. But my car seats four comfortably.. and six in a pinch.. so anyone up for an adventure is welcome to come along. (It's ALWAYS an adventure in the Death-Focus!).
Thanks for reading, and continuing to read. <3
 |
| My Skink-A-Saurus Rex. He's larger than some house dogs. |
I just finished up dealing the Ante Up Cruise with the crew from the magazine. It was amazing. I don't know what I expected a "poker" cruise to be like, but I can't believe it's taken me this long to find out. I can't stress it enough.. you MUST go on one of these cruises. The next one I'll be on is Feb. 4-8th, leaving from Port Canaveral, Florida. I would love for some of you to come along.
 |
| Don't you want to cruise with this dealing staff? |
The first day was spent at sea evading Hurricane Isaac. We dealt and played poker all day long, shared cocktails with friends and enjoyed the pretty awesome food aboard the Monarch of the Seas. The next day, Poker News Senior Editor and friend, Chad Holloway and I took our Moms to Nassau for shopping. (We both had our Moms as our dates aboard the ship!). The afternoon was spend zipping along on Jet Skis off the coast of Cabbage Beach behind the Atlantis Casino and Resort.
 |
| Cabbage Beach is oddly lacking in cabbage. |
The following day was spent at CoCo Cay. Eric Terpening, Heather Mae and I went snorkeling and despite clearly defined barriers.. immediately slipped off the shelf into "no man's land" and came face to face with a mutant Manta Ray. When Terp pointed it out, I literally couldn't see it because everything was dark in front of me. Then, in slow motion, as the current rippled it's arm/fin/skin flap thing.. I realized the darkness WAS the Manta Ray. It was the single most awesome and terrifying moment of my existence. Only heightened by the sheer terror I saw on the faces of my co-snorkelers as I realized a smaller (but still Volkswagen sized) Manta Ray had settled onto the sand directly beneath my feet. It was pretty amazing. We saw barracuda, eel and box jelly fish. We were attacked, rather viciously, by some variety of large tropical fish. I couldn't have had a better day.
 |
| Terp, the co-snorkeler who had my back in the "Manta Ray incident of 2012". |
The remainder of the cruise was spent in the poker room. It's amazing how you can board a ship with a handful of familiar faces and leave with dozens of friends. It might have something to do with the fact that no one can escape. These cruises are worth every penny they cost.. (And really, at around $350 a person, it's a bargain). I can't stress enough.. PLEASE come join us. You haven't lived until you've partied with the Ante Up Crew. For more information, please visit www.anteupmagazine.com.
Following my Bahamas experience, I went and visited my sister in Destin for a minute. My brother in law just returned from Afghanistan and it was nice to see him safely back stateside. Then a quick trip to return Mom to Memphis, and in less than 24 hours I was back on the coast to kill 36 hours with the always fun PK. In dealer world we're practically neighbors, and when I realized I had no specific plans for Labor Day.. it made perfect sense to recruit/force-by-guilt-trip him into spending the afternoon playing air hockey and seeing Possession with me. Time well spent. If you have the pleasure of having him deal to you, feel privileged. He's one of the good guys.
 |
| Incidently, this movie poster is the scariest thing about the movie. It wasn't "bad". It was just kinda.. "Meh". |
Speaking of good guys.. Chris Quan busted his ass to get me lined up to deal at the Borgata in Atlantic City. After leaving the coast, I rushed back to Memphis, pulled a quick dealing shift at an unspecified location and then immediately left the game to board a plane to Jersey. With almost zero sleep, I was quickly running on empty. On the flight out there I was rather delirious. So it's no surprise when I saw a strapping young gentleman assisting every lady over 40 with her luggage, that I'd pop off with some smart ass comment about him being on a work-release program. Instead of him being offended, he laughed. I knew then that we'd end up friends. But sleep was taking priority and I quickly forgot about my new travel buddy. It was when he heroically returned my driver's license (I'd dropped it without noticing) that I made the effort to chat him up a bit. Sarasota Greg made the second half of my flight a lot more enjoyable. He's interesting and smart and as charming as a Yankee can be. ;) Welcome to my blog, new facebook buddy! (P.S. I DID mention that almost everything I do ends up publicly spread all over the internet, didn't I? Oh I didn't? My bad.)
 |
| This is a VERY flattering picture of Atlantic City. Trust me. |
So now I'm in Jersey. At the prestigious Borgata WPT event. I'm THRILLED! All set to deal.. make new friends and continue to take the poker world by storm right?! Nope. Apparently if you've ever been married and divorced, you must have copies of your marriage and divorce decrees in order to obtain a Jersey gaming license. Yeah.. let me just grab those out of my purse. Oh wait. I don't carry those with me. FOILED. I spent the afternoon walking on the beach with Andy Lee, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. I still hadn't slept, so I was a swirling vortex of tears and heartbroken declarations. 12 hours later.. Yep. Back on a plane to Memphis.
 |
| Starting out the trip, plane-resting on dealer cushions, curled up in my Carhartt Hoddie. Really excited, 24 hours without sleep. Didn't care.. running on adrenaline. |
 |
| Finishing up the trip, in the airport, 47 hours without sleep. I make end stage terminal patients look vivacious. |
I came home and slept 15 hours. Woke up. Turned over. Slept 15 hours more. And now we're here. I have no immediate plans. Going to play in a poker tournament with the illustrious Scott Williams tomorrow. Gonna go down to Bossier for the WSOP circuit stop and harass my dealer friends, have dinner with Bob Talbot, and hopefully run into Kenny Milam (Who I've been promising a blog mention for over a year now!) and perhaps take HIM to dinner. Right now my tentative plans include kidnapping PK after the event wraps up and road tripping down to Florida for some poker. But my car seats four comfortably.. and six in a pinch.. so anyone up for an adventure is welcome to come along. (It's ALWAYS an adventure in the Death-Focus!).
Thanks for reading, and continuing to read. <3
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Quick Update: 6 Days on the Coast, Fitness Goals, Waiting for Lightning to Strike.
I have 7 saved drafts, but no new blog post to speak of. I start this one, not knowing if it'll actually turn into a post or not. I always have the best intentions though. :)
I'm leaving tomorrow, to drive down to Port Canaveral to catch the Ante Up Poker Cruise. I'm taking my Mom as my date. Ordinarily, I would be looking forward to it.. but we're in the middle of tropical storm Isaac, and I think I'm up against 5 days of rain.
I walked four miles today. At the beginning of the year I blogged about wanting to get in better shape. Aside from Vegas (Or as I like to call it .. "The worst two months of my life").. I've been pretty faithful. My goal was to lose a significant amount of weight slowly so it would stick, add a moderate amount of muscle and increase my overall health. I'm 1/3rd of the way into the weight goal, down three sizes, and I've just upped the ante from casual increase in activity to hardcore exercise. With CatCat staying in Biloxi during the cruise, working out has replaced him as my natural anti-depressant. Right now my body hurts so good. I still have about 35 pounds to go before I'm content, and I want to be able to run a mile without being winded. Run. Not jog, not walk fast. Run. So far, so good.
I've been watching a ridiculous chick-flick mini series on Netflix. I won't name it, because it's embarrassing. My mom is a fan. It's a rom-com type of feel-good crap show I wouldn't normally watch. One thing it has made me realize, sadly, is that my life is utterly void of romance. I go out. I know plenty of men. When I choose to, I have a great sex life. But I have no romance. I look at the men in my life, the ones that interest me.. and the ones actively pursuing me, and not really any of them are categorical knight-in-shining-armor-types. Not that I necessarily need this.. but I think, maybe twice this year have I gotten butterflies. Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old(er) age, but I kind of want to hear some of that sentimental crap from time to time. I'm going to make more of an effort to go out on dates that don't involve a bar. My expectations are high though. Which is probably why I'm on a 2 year streak of flings-turned-friends. Not that I'm complaining. I heart those 3 or 4 guys who have managed to make it past my self-imposed walls. :)
I just spent six day down on the Coast, killin' time between Biloxi and New Orleans. It was fun. There were a few moments that were down right enchanting. I had dinner with three of my favorite friends, Pique, Kreigl and Zackary at the Old Cuevas Bistro. It was one of the best meals I've ever had. I'd anticipated a nice night out, so I spent ages doing the hair and makeup.. picking out the perfect rust-colored sundress.. and after two martinis and one fantastic dinner, I was back in jeans and and a hoodie driving down the coast. I can only do super-girly in short spells. I'm pretty sure the dress is still balled up in my car somewhere.
We did a day at the Aquarium in New Orleans, feeding Parakeets in the rain and watching rockstomper (Rockhopper?) penguins kick ass and take names. The night on Bourbon street I realized the difference between my buddies and I.. by 11:30, I was drunk and ready to retire to the condo. They stayed out till nearly dawn. I surprised myself by braving the streets of NOLA on a Friday night alone, during the walk home, as I fended off potentially-homeless conversationalist. I wonder sometimes if my lack of an internal fear gauge is strength or stupidity.
We went to Destin to visit my sister. She's dealing with some health issues and I haven't had the chance to spend time with her since being diagnosed. She looked great, and we had fun. Kreigl and I flopped around in the ocean a bit, in what will be one of those pictures that stays burned in my brain. Zack, PK and Bex on the shore, with the storm rolling in behind them. It was a perfect, imperfect day. The drive home we listened to music, waxxed philosophy about rat hair and lentil bisque and country music vs hip hop.
I saw The Campaign, and laughed so hard it hurt. Sat on the beach and poured my heart out over a can of beer. Lost a prop bet in a Best Buy. Watched Pirates of the Caribbean and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. (You all know how I love me some Meatwad).
And then it was over, and I came home. Without CatCat, without the three boys. Back to my regularly scheduled life.
But not so much. I've got to make some changes. I want to be closer to my sister, and yet still in the South. Poker is part of my blood. There is no escaping it. I can't imagine working wholly in another field. So I'm somewhat limited to where I can settle if I'm going to look into "House" jobs. I'm shopping a bit though, and I have irons in the fire. I want a bit more normalcy than I have now. And yet, I still want to travel. I want it all. But that isn't much of a surprise. Of all the people I know, though, I am most likely to have it all. I generally find a way to get what I want.
I'm not sure what the next step for me is. I'm drifting at the moment, and I'm waiting for lightning to strike. When it does, you all will be the first to know. :)
I'll update the details of the cruise, hopefully from the ship. The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, but I've got some half-written blog posts that I'm looking forward to finishing. A final tribute to Casey Jones, who has been laid to rest.. as well as another installment of "This Dealer Life".
As always, Thank you for reading.
<3
Bella Donkey
Post Script - I dyed my hair red a couple weeks ago, to get it a few shades closer to it's natural color. I posted a few pics online, and a blog reader, who is pretty handy with photoshop dolled up one of my photos with some sparkly stuff. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do with it, but it looks kinda neat.. so I'll repost. Thanks, Charlie!
I'm leaving tomorrow, to drive down to Port Canaveral to catch the Ante Up Poker Cruise. I'm taking my Mom as my date. Ordinarily, I would be looking forward to it.. but we're in the middle of tropical storm Isaac, and I think I'm up against 5 days of rain.
 |
| Part of walking so much, is you SEE so much more. Here a rainbow, literally pouring into my home up on the hill. |
I walked four miles today. At the beginning of the year I blogged about wanting to get in better shape. Aside from Vegas (Or as I like to call it .. "The worst two months of my life").. I've been pretty faithful. My goal was to lose a significant amount of weight slowly so it would stick, add a moderate amount of muscle and increase my overall health. I'm 1/3rd of the way into the weight goal, down three sizes, and I've just upped the ante from casual increase in activity to hardcore exercise. With CatCat staying in Biloxi during the cruise, working out has replaced him as my natural anti-depressant. Right now my body hurts so good. I still have about 35 pounds to go before I'm content, and I want to be able to run a mile without being winded. Run. Not jog, not walk fast. Run. So far, so good.
 |
| This stupid cat makes me happy. Lame, I know. But he's part of my heart. |
I've been watching a ridiculous chick-flick mini series on Netflix. I won't name it, because it's embarrassing. My mom is a fan. It's a rom-com type of feel-good crap show I wouldn't normally watch. One thing it has made me realize, sadly, is that my life is utterly void of romance. I go out. I know plenty of men. When I choose to, I have a great sex life. But I have no romance. I look at the men in my life, the ones that interest me.. and the ones actively pursuing me, and not really any of them are categorical knight-in-shining-armor-types. Not that I necessarily need this.. but I think, maybe twice this year have I gotten butterflies. Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old(er) age, but I kind of want to hear some of that sentimental crap from time to time. I'm going to make more of an effort to go out on dates that don't involve a bar. My expectations are high though. Which is probably why I'm on a 2 year streak of flings-turned-friends. Not that I'm complaining. I heart those 3 or 4 guys who have managed to make it past my self-imposed walls. :)
 |
| French Quarter Road Trip with the Boys! |
I just spent six day down on the Coast, killin' time between Biloxi and New Orleans. It was fun. There were a few moments that were down right enchanting. I had dinner with three of my favorite friends, Pique, Kreigl and Zackary at the Old Cuevas Bistro. It was one of the best meals I've ever had. I'd anticipated a nice night out, so I spent ages doing the hair and makeup.. picking out the perfect rust-colored sundress.. and after two martinis and one fantastic dinner, I was back in jeans and and a hoodie driving down the coast. I can only do super-girly in short spells. I'm pretty sure the dress is still balled up in my car somewhere.
 |
| Yes, it was every bit as good as it looks. |
We did a day at the Aquarium in New Orleans, feeding Parakeets in the rain and watching rockstomper (Rockhopper?) penguins kick ass and take names. The night on Bourbon street I realized the difference between my buddies and I.. by 11:30, I was drunk and ready to retire to the condo. They stayed out till nearly dawn. I surprised myself by braving the streets of NOLA on a Friday night alone, during the walk home, as I fended off potentially-homeless conversationalist. I wonder sometimes if my lack of an internal fear gauge is strength or stupidity.
 |
| Pique is quite the Parakeet whisperer. Apparently. |
We went to Destin to visit my sister. She's dealing with some health issues and I haven't had the chance to spend time with her since being diagnosed. She looked great, and we had fun. Kreigl and I flopped around in the ocean a bit, in what will be one of those pictures that stays burned in my brain. Zack, PK and Bex on the shore, with the storm rolling in behind them. It was a perfect, imperfect day. The drive home we listened to music, waxxed philosophy about rat hair and lentil bisque and country music vs hip hop.
I saw The Campaign, and laughed so hard it hurt. Sat on the beach and poured my heart out over a can of beer. Lost a prop bet in a Best Buy. Watched Pirates of the Caribbean and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. (You all know how I love me some Meatwad).
 |
| Oh hell yes. |
And then it was over, and I came home. Without CatCat, without the three boys. Back to my regularly scheduled life.
But not so much. I've got to make some changes. I want to be closer to my sister, and yet still in the South. Poker is part of my blood. There is no escaping it. I can't imagine working wholly in another field. So I'm somewhat limited to where I can settle if I'm going to look into "House" jobs. I'm shopping a bit though, and I have irons in the fire. I want a bit more normalcy than I have now. And yet, I still want to travel. I want it all. But that isn't much of a surprise. Of all the people I know, though, I am most likely to have it all. I generally find a way to get what I want.
I'm not sure what the next step for me is. I'm drifting at the moment, and I'm waiting for lightning to strike. When it does, you all will be the first to know. :)
I'll update the details of the cruise, hopefully from the ship. The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, but I've got some half-written blog posts that I'm looking forward to finishing. A final tribute to Casey Jones, who has been laid to rest.. as well as another installment of "This Dealer Life".
As always, Thank you for reading.
<3
Bella Donkey
Post Script - I dyed my hair red a couple weeks ago, to get it a few shades closer to it's natural color. I posted a few pics online, and a blog reader, who is pretty handy with photoshop dolled up one of my photos with some sparkly stuff. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do with it, but it looks kinda neat.. so I'll repost. Thanks, Charlie!
 |
| My hair.. it's on FIRE. Ahahahahaha. |
Friday, August 10, 2012
A call to all poker family - A pledge for Casey Jones.
I mentioned Casey briefly in my last post, but in light of recent decisions regarding his prognosis I feel like this warrants it's own post. I've never solicited donations for anything through my blog or column, but every once in awhile an actual worthy cause comes along. If donations aren't something within your ability, you will be doing me a personal favor by re-posting this in your own blogs/social media. Thanks in advance.
Casey Jones is a traveling poker dealer, WSOP supervisor and friend. He is the son of Dennis Jones, an institution in our poker world. On August 2nd, he fell into a coma from some undiagnosed ailment (presumed heart attack or stroke) during his sleep. Initially, though things looked grim as he was transported to ICU in New Mexico, a lot of prayers and hope were requested.
The doctors say the extent of brain damage is too much, and Casey isn't going to pull out of this one. His family has made the decision to put him in hospice care, rather than on life support, while they await the inevitable.
Casey is 29 years old, and the father of beautiful twin daughters. I could go on and on, in typical eulogy fashion.. albeit a bit premature.. about what a tremendous man he was, a devoted father and hard working pillar in the poker community. I think most of my readers know me better than that though, and those sentiments are best left for the family during a time of significant tragedy.
Casey was funny. He was tall, and gorgeous and completely unassuming. He was a big kid with a sarcastic sense of humor that echoed my own. I'd run into him in the halls of our Council Bluff hotel rooms after working a 14 hour day, and we'd exchange witty one liners about the joy that is dealing cards in cornfield Iowa. The "smoking gazebo" downstairs, in the middle of the night, became a place for dealers to gather and discuss all things from sports, hands we dealt, the particular shape of an especially endearing cocktail waitress, or just talk shop. Having worked with Casey dozens of times, it was in this gazebo that we became friends.
I saw him this summer at the Series, as did everyone else. We shared insight about our ability to eat chicken and rice every day for 70 some odd days (the standard WSOP staff meal at the Rio EDR). We'd grab a quick cigarette and talk about what was in store for us during the fall. These conversations were never earth shattering, but always enjoyable. I liked Casey. I liked seeing him at work, and I looked forward to catching up with him.
I could recount some of the things that endeared him to me, or made him stand out from other coworkers. But really, all that matters is that he was one of us.. and that he's missed. There is a big gaping hole that can't make sense of how unfair it all seems.
I've buried a few people that were tremendously close to me. I can say, with no uncertainty, that this is the hardest thing the Jones family will ever go through and that it will NEVER heal. It will get easier, as time progresses, but it never goes away. Whatever faith they have, and whatever source they draw comfort from will only numb them to the reality that they'll never sit around and shoot the proverbial shit again, with someone they never imagined losing. My heart breaks for them.
Like most people in our industry, Casey didn't have medical insurance. At 29, he didn't have the means or ability to properly plan for his girl's futures.. or even purchase life insurance. The darkest days in the situation are still yet to come as hope ebbs and reality sets in. Long after the rest of us go back to our regularly schedule lives, the Jones family will be living with a deeply personal loss compounded by financial strife.
Long time poker family, Joanne Douglass has set up a trust to be administrated by the family to take care of Casey's needs and help him be comfortable in his final days. Any remaining sum will go towards raising and caring for his twin 3 year olds, Sadie and Kennedy. In case the half dozen links I have peppered this post with all fail, the website is Give Forward, specifically, giveforward.com/caseyjones. Or just do a search for Casey Jones Give Forward. You can also inbox me on facebook or email if you have any questions.
If you have the ability to make a contribution, regardless of size, please do. If you can't, you can do me a personal favor by re posting this to your facebook or twitter. At the very least, if you could offer a prayer to the Jones family, I will be in your debt. I will donate .10 cents for every page view this post gets, up to $250. It isn't nearly enough, but I'm hoping it will generate some awareness and help out a family that needs it.
Thank you in advance for your consideration and prayers.
 |
| Casey and Dad. <3 |
Casey Jones is a traveling poker dealer, WSOP supervisor and friend. He is the son of Dennis Jones, an institution in our poker world. On August 2nd, he fell into a coma from some undiagnosed ailment (presumed heart attack or stroke) during his sleep. Initially, though things looked grim as he was transported to ICU in New Mexico, a lot of prayers and hope were requested.
The doctors say the extent of brain damage is too much, and Casey isn't going to pull out of this one. His family has made the decision to put him in hospice care, rather than on life support, while they await the inevitable.
Casey is 29 years old, and the father of beautiful twin daughters. I could go on and on, in typical eulogy fashion.. albeit a bit premature.. about what a tremendous man he was, a devoted father and hard working pillar in the poker community. I think most of my readers know me better than that though, and those sentiments are best left for the family during a time of significant tragedy.
Casey was funny. He was tall, and gorgeous and completely unassuming. He was a big kid with a sarcastic sense of humor that echoed my own. I'd run into him in the halls of our Council Bluff hotel rooms after working a 14 hour day, and we'd exchange witty one liners about the joy that is dealing cards in cornfield Iowa. The "smoking gazebo" downstairs, in the middle of the night, became a place for dealers to gather and discuss all things from sports, hands we dealt, the particular shape of an especially endearing cocktail waitress, or just talk shop. Having worked with Casey dozens of times, it was in this gazebo that we became friends.
I saw him this summer at the Series, as did everyone else. We shared insight about our ability to eat chicken and rice every day for 70 some odd days (the standard WSOP staff meal at the Rio EDR). We'd grab a quick cigarette and talk about what was in store for us during the fall. These conversations were never earth shattering, but always enjoyable. I liked Casey. I liked seeing him at work, and I looked forward to catching up with him.
I could recount some of the things that endeared him to me, or made him stand out from other coworkers. But really, all that matters is that he was one of us.. and that he's missed. There is a big gaping hole that can't make sense of how unfair it all seems.
I've buried a few people that were tremendously close to me. I can say, with no uncertainty, that this is the hardest thing the Jones family will ever go through and that it will NEVER heal. It will get easier, as time progresses, but it never goes away. Whatever faith they have, and whatever source they draw comfort from will only numb them to the reality that they'll never sit around and shoot the proverbial shit again, with someone they never imagined losing. My heart breaks for them.
Like most people in our industry, Casey didn't have medical insurance. At 29, he didn't have the means or ability to properly plan for his girl's futures.. or even purchase life insurance. The darkest days in the situation are still yet to come as hope ebbs and reality sets in. Long after the rest of us go back to our regularly schedule lives, the Jones family will be living with a deeply personal loss compounded by financial strife.
 |
| Its amazing how the lines blur and the poker world, become real family. |
If you have the ability to make a contribution, regardless of size, please do. If you can't, you can do me a personal favor by re posting this to your facebook or twitter. At the very least, if you could offer a prayer to the Jones family, I will be in your debt. I will donate .10 cents for every page view this post gets, up to $250. It isn't nearly enough, but I'm hoping it will generate some awareness and help out a family that needs it.
Thank you in advance for your consideration and prayers.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
1 Lie, 5 Truths. Depression, Escape & Reflection. Carpe Diem, Kids!
Where to begin, where to begin.
My friend and DC (Dealer Coordinator) -slash- Oregon Mom says.. "Write from the heart!". So I suppose that's what I'll do. Remember that ridiculous game where you're given a few phrases and you have to guess which ONE is a lie, amongst 5 truths? We'll start there.
In the last four months I have:
The "kids", Zack and Kreigl and I, plus another dealer.. who I won't out (to protect his not-so-innocence), fled the city with no hesitation.. headed back to the dirty south for an event in Tunica. 24 short hours later, we were home. I was in the midst of my first bout of real depression in a long time. For long time readers, you know I've chronicled my battle with depression.. and nearly giving up.. but for the most part, I'm on the other side of it. I was dangerously close to the proverbial ledge in Vegas, a few times.
Being home is a wonder. I appreciate every thing I'd often taken for granted, so much more. I came home with only a fraction of the money I'd hoped to, and even less sanity, but by God I was happy to be here.
For those who have been at my various events, Pendleton.. Reno.. etc, you know that I've pretty much focused on work and scorned others for their lack of ambition. It's always been all about the paycheck for me. I took a different approach for my Tunica event and I actually got to know a lot of the crew. I had an incredibly awesome fling with a man I still can't get out of my head, despite it having already come to a close. (Now accepting applications for a rebound bitch. You know how to reach me). He revitalized my senses and gave me something to look forward to. Revitalized in the "I would drive 10 hours to have a cup of coffee with him" kinda way. It was much needed, and now I crave more. I am trying not to second guess myself, and wonder if the fling was a product of necessity or genuine connection. This is a huge stride for me, because I second guess most things. I patched up relationships this summer had nearly destroyed. I made new friends, and experienced alcoholic beverages I'm pretty sure aren't even legal. I lost 12 pounds I'd been trying to shake for eons.
In short, I needed to screw off a bit. I did.
Now that I'm on the other side of it, I'm sort of sweating the fall. I'm not sure, 100%, where I'm going or what I'm doing. I've applied to the events I'd like to do this fall.. but the jury still hasn't come in and I'm not confirmed for anything aside from an Ante Up cruise at the end of the month.
A friend, coworker and traveling dealer (Casey Jones), had a presumed heart attack in his sleep last week. He didn't wake up. He's on full life support and considered brain dead. A lot of the crew are still optimistic, and I'm not one to dash any one's want for prayer.. but the whole ordeal slammed me like a ton of bricks. It made me realize how quickly it could be any one of us, and how these people that we interact with on a daily basis, might not be here tomorrow. I don't use my blog to impart wisdom. It's more like a peep hole so that you all may enjoy a voyeuristic feed upon the vortex of calamity that is my life. With a small side of humor. But right now, I want to stress more than ever, that you need to grab on to every experience with both hands. Feel something. Or as a friend of mine would say, be bold. Think less, act more. Run the risk of being perceived as a little crazy, because on the off chance your "crazies" are well received.. you're going to be so glad you took a risk.
I am plagued with terrible nightmares. Have been for ages. But they've abated somewhat as time has progressed. I was in a hotel room the other night, next to the aforementioned fling, and I couldn't escape this horrible paralyzing fear-dream. I was running from something, and whatever it was.. was not good. It was dark, I was alone and I was absolutely petrified. I would wake up, realize I wasn't alone.. or in danger.. go back to sleep only to feel it again. It was something cataclysmic and much more significant than any human entity. I woke up in tears, despondent.
I have no idea what this means, or what it's signifying. I'm not good at analyzing these sorts of things. This was not a typical nightmare for me. I know myself, having lived with myself for 32 years, and I know that I always dread the end of something positive. Whether its an amazing weekend, a happy period in my life, or even an isolated incident. I think it's the sharp edge of depression that still thwarts my attempts at normalcy. Part of my brain says "Run while you can, I'll eventually catch you".
After the tears cleared up, it was a beautiful sunshiny day.. with a lot of laughs before, during and after work. I wonder if I'll ever be a girl, entirely free of shackles, who feels pretty enough and smart enough or special enough to walk in the sunshine all the time. I wonder, if when I get there, I'll still like me.. because I've grown so accustomed to being a well guarded pain in the ass, the cynicism has become like a comfortable hoodie. I used to pray for a rescue package. A perfectly timed "emergency low" when I'm dead to two outs. I don't so much anymore. I'm enjoying the mid-range, slightly playable hands I've been getting.. with the occasional really good one thrown in for variety.
Sorry I got so deep. At Penny's request, I wrote from the heart. I appreciate you all so very much, even in my long bouts of silence. <3 Thanks, as always for reading and reposting, and hopefully I'll see some of you soon. Drop me an email if anything interesting has come up you think I should write about. And if you're going to be cruisin' with Ante Up or playing IP Biloxi.. we must have a cocktail!
I'm off to shop for new jeans with the Zack, and then find a life-size Margarita to jump into.
<3
JGay
My friend and DC (Dealer Coordinator) -slash- Oregon Mom says.. "Write from the heart!". So I suppose that's what I'll do. Remember that ridiculous game where you're given a few phrases and you have to guess which ONE is a lie, amongst 5 truths? We'll start there.
In the last four months I have:
- Hit a royal flush in video poker.
- Watched a theatrically staged group orgy on stage with Scott Williams in LasVegas, where a 70 year old randomly chosen-from-audience grandmother from Crete simulated raunchy sex with what I'm pretty sure was a transvestite.
 |
| This is just a PG-13 snapshot. Zumanity is WELL worth the money. |
- Left a mostly naked male exotic dancer/playgirl model in a hotel room, because I would rather drink beer with a socially awkward slightly gangster dealer, who by all accounts is NOT my type, and who didn't appear to be the slightest bit interested in me. The dancer, on the other hand, was/is. I did this twice. I am a failure of a woman. But I'd make the same choice again.
- Got in the first, and only, physical fight I've ever been in. With a man. I was not the aggressor. We were not drunk, nor involved. It was purely random. I guess some people can't handle my sarcasm.
- Had a roommate threaten to kill me. With a frozen diet coke bottle. While chasing my cat around the apartment. In front of 10 witnesses. She wasn't kidding.
- I inherited two wayward dealers, who have become like little brothers to me, and suddenly I can't imagine not having them with me.. despite me preferring to travel/room solo.
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| West Coast Road Trip 2012. Zack and Kreigl. |
I'm not going to elaborate on any of the above subjects, but let's just say.. I've been running really bad at video poker. No royals, anywhere, to speak of.
I left Vegas abruptly, and in the middle of the night. Which was fitting. It was the worst experience of my life, being there. I had such high hopes. I worked too hard, I did it all on foot (My car was in the shop for a staggering two months), I was homesick and so socially shut in that all I did was work and sleep. I lived with 8 roommates in a 3 bedroom apartment, and every single day was like the reenactment of the battle of Normandy. Only, with more bloodshed. And less national commendation. I feel like I've fought a war. Right now I'm saying I'll never do it again, but I'm sure the pain will fade and next year I'll be rearing to go. Someone please bookmark this post and email it to me when I start making travel plans.
The "kids", Zack and Kreigl and I, plus another dealer.. who I won't out (to protect his not-so-innocence), fled the city with no hesitation.. headed back to the dirty south for an event in Tunica. 24 short hours later, we were home. I was in the midst of my first bout of real depression in a long time. For long time readers, you know I've chronicled my battle with depression.. and nearly giving up.. but for the most part, I'm on the other side of it. I was dangerously close to the proverbial ledge in Vegas, a few times.
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| Do you know how hard it was for me to get to my penguin cave when it was 120 degrees outside?! |
Being home is a wonder. I appreciate every thing I'd often taken for granted, so much more. I came home with only a fraction of the money I'd hoped to, and even less sanity, but by God I was happy to be here.
For those who have been at my various events, Pendleton.. Reno.. etc, you know that I've pretty much focused on work and scorned others for their lack of ambition. It's always been all about the paycheck for me. I took a different approach for my Tunica event and I actually got to know a lot of the crew. I had an incredibly awesome fling with a man I still can't get out of my head, despite it having already come to a close. (Now accepting applications for a rebound bitch. You know how to reach me). He revitalized my senses and gave me something to look forward to. Revitalized in the "I would drive 10 hours to have a cup of coffee with him" kinda way. It was much needed, and now I crave more. I am trying not to second guess myself, and wonder if the fling was a product of necessity or genuine connection. This is a huge stride for me, because I second guess most things. I patched up relationships this summer had nearly destroyed. I made new friends, and experienced alcoholic beverages I'm pretty sure aren't even legal. I lost 12 pounds I'd been trying to shake for eons.
In short, I needed to screw off a bit. I did.
Now that I'm on the other side of it, I'm sort of sweating the fall. I'm not sure, 100%, where I'm going or what I'm doing. I've applied to the events I'd like to do this fall.. but the jury still hasn't come in and I'm not confirmed for anything aside from an Ante Up cruise at the end of the month.
A friend, coworker and traveling dealer (Casey Jones), had a presumed heart attack in his sleep last week. He didn't wake up. He's on full life support and considered brain dead. A lot of the crew are still optimistic, and I'm not one to dash any one's want for prayer.. but the whole ordeal slammed me like a ton of bricks. It made me realize how quickly it could be any one of us, and how these people that we interact with on a daily basis, might not be here tomorrow. I don't use my blog to impart wisdom. It's more like a peep hole so that you all may enjoy a voyeuristic feed upon the vortex of calamity that is my life. With a small side of humor. But right now, I want to stress more than ever, that you need to grab on to every experience with both hands. Feel something. Or as a friend of mine would say, be bold. Think less, act more. Run the risk of being perceived as a little crazy, because on the off chance your "crazies" are well received.. you're going to be so glad you took a risk.
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| Oddly, this photo also works to sum up my roommate situation in Vegas. |
I am plagued with terrible nightmares. Have been for ages. But they've abated somewhat as time has progressed. I was in a hotel room the other night, next to the aforementioned fling, and I couldn't escape this horrible paralyzing fear-dream. I was running from something, and whatever it was.. was not good. It was dark, I was alone and I was absolutely petrified. I would wake up, realize I wasn't alone.. or in danger.. go back to sleep only to feel it again. It was something cataclysmic and much more significant than any human entity. I woke up in tears, despondent.
I have no idea what this means, or what it's signifying. I'm not good at analyzing these sorts of things. This was not a typical nightmare for me. I know myself, having lived with myself for 32 years, and I know that I always dread the end of something positive. Whether its an amazing weekend, a happy period in my life, or even an isolated incident. I think it's the sharp edge of depression that still thwarts my attempts at normalcy. Part of my brain says "Run while you can, I'll eventually catch you".
After the tears cleared up, it was a beautiful sunshiny day.. with a lot of laughs before, during and after work. I wonder if I'll ever be a girl, entirely free of shackles, who feels pretty enough and smart enough or special enough to walk in the sunshine all the time. I wonder, if when I get there, I'll still like me.. because I've grown so accustomed to being a well guarded pain in the ass, the cynicism has become like a comfortable hoodie. I used to pray for a rescue package. A perfectly timed "emergency low" when I'm dead to two outs. I don't so much anymore. I'm enjoying the mid-range, slightly playable hands I've been getting.. with the occasional really good one thrown in for variety.
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| You know you're making strides when you view this less as a metaphor for your existence, and more for a possible recreational activity. Jackpot recovery, here I come! |
I'm off to shop for new jeans with the Zack, and then find a life-size Margarita to jump into.
<3
JGay
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| For his fans, CatCat would like you all to know he's doing well and enjoying some much needed R&R. |
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