Velociworld

DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDREL

Spree drinking is a kids' sport, of course, a fact I have been aware of for any number of years. But then Blogtoberfest raised its ugly haid in Helen, and I fancied myself something of a party boy.

Now, I knew better than to indulge in the Chatham Artillery Punch, it being for the more spritely of the Jawja Blodgers, and honorary Blodgers. But something went awry after the Honorary Sip, and thar she went. All downhill.

The Blodgers are a fantastic group of people. Hell, it's criminal that I even attempt to mingle with them. But they are a condescending amenable group of folk, and allowed me to play as long as I wore the choke collar (which I slipped twicet).

But enough about me (not really. That's just a figure of speech). Meet my special peeples!

Sam I Am: Whether it was sharing Lucite-embedded brown recluse necklaces, helping me up after yet another nasty fall off the swing, or refusing to pose for hot man-on-man pics, you indeed Ain't Right. Mebbe next time you pass out first, eh, hombre?

Zonker: You're the ultimate Mullethead, and don't forget it. I have some great pictures of your birthday party, however I believe the statute of limitations comes into play here. That, sir, is considered a crime in White County. Thankee for the Grey Goose brother. It bumpled me nice. And you are hereverafter the Inky Tight.

Shoe: you have to love a person who flies across time zones to party with reprobates. I especially appreciate your sharing your cabin with, well, whoever was trying to avoid me, and for loaning me your fancy pajamas. Although the pants were a little tight. I looked like the Dark Knight version of Robin Hood in those things. Which ain't a bad thing, mind you.

Donnie: We finally meet. You a helluva guy. A gentleman. AND a scholar. Heck, you could read the hieroglyphics in my pupils that you knew meant That dude's going down in about ten minutes. Seen it before. A pleasure, Donnie.

Dax: Fug, man. When I grow up to be a strapping feller like you maybe I can hang. I doubt it, but maybe. In the meantime, I am available to be given piggyback rides. And Shiner Bocks. Just Damn!

Key: Key is the ultimate blogmeet attendee. Kind, considerate, even pretended to like her birthday present until she could foist it upon her child. Cupcake eater, too. And one of the few people to say "Dude, you shouldn't use a funnel to drink that punch. Don't forget: Velocidog is Velocigod spelled backwards. Kinda."

Kelley: The third branch of the Holy Trinity of Gurl Cabin. Luster of the Punch. Playah. Hinky Tight. Not a blogmeet without the Kelsta. And one who saw my morbidly green complexion shovel chili hash browns into my gullet on Sunday morning at the Huddle House and say "Don't you have a 7 hour drive ahead of you, Mr. Extended Thinker??" Well, it ended up being closer to 8. Brown tsunami stops, and all.

Denny: The Grouchy Old Cripple is one suave, mellifluous cat. Raconteur, singer/guitarist extraordinaire, blower of kazoos. It ain't a blogmeet without my special friend. Literally, unfortunately. He fucking follows me everywhere!

Elisson: the man I wanted to meet. And the man who gifted me with a genuine Elisson fedora. And a Sazerac (uh, thanks, hoss. I was in dire need of 180 proof alcohol at that particular moment). Elisson brought his lovely wife, SWMBO, and she seemed to actually take to ole VMan, in the way that a person takes to a creature by whispering "Elisson, when they walk sideways like that, it means they have the rabies. Be careful. No sudden moves".

Straight White Guy and Fiona: Damn. I didn't know if my homey was going to make this trip. But he did, with his beautiful bride, and he even behaved! Which was kind of a letdown. A blogmeet without Eric and I scrapping, or his knife coming out? Pussified, I tell ya! We'll rassle next time, amigo. This was my turn to howl.

Leslie the Omnibus Driver and Buckaroo Banzai: To fly all the way down from Chicago to party with us was an honor for me Leslie. And to be presented with my very own cowbell. And More Cowbell shirt? You were truly too kind to me. And that Joann lady from Alabama? What said I was a dipshit? She was right. Even a blind pig from Alabama can find an acorn every now and then. Thank you. And BB. Please come visit.

Moogie: One of my favorites, this girl. I wish she and Ward could come to one of these things together. Still have the deer in the headlights look, dear, but it appears the low-beams were on this time. I keep telling you: Relax, it's not about the biting. That's just gravy.

Acidman: Really glad you could make it man. I enjoyed talking to you. It would have been even better if you had, you know, reciprocated the conversation. It's called dialogue. What I look like, Demosthenes? You get kudos for allowing us to see you on that massage table upon returning from the Troll, though, your skinny ass sitting there for all the world like a chicken breast about to go in the oven. And I'm sorry I felt compelled to ask your masseuse if she was an actual licensed massage therapist, or a handjobber from the yellow pages. If the latter I was gonna sell tickets.

Recondo32 and Georgia: Two of finest people I've ever been graced to know. Let my drunken ass crash with them when I couldn't find my room keys. And, yes, next time I will actually check the door. Just because you can't find your keys doesn't mean your dumb ass locked it in the first place. And my laptop wasn't even there. It was at Sammy's. Thanks for the punchbowl setup, Georgia. And a little head up next time you come to Atlantic Beach.

Last but certainly not least the Velocibride. She is a trooper. Puts up with my alternating tripolar states of arrogance, puling, whining, bitching, moaning, arguing, cursing, foaming, flecking (that be when the mouth is dry, and the foaming gets a little sinewy) for nigh on 30 years. She should have that bullwhip in her sole possession, for animal control.

And what's with me losing shit? No big. I do it all the time. I considered the entire compound my personal domain. Your room? Don't think so. Your clothes? Look good on me. Your liquor? Don't even go there.