Town of Bitch, population: Me.

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All I wanted was a bed.

Instead, I got a one way ticket to the town of Bitch, population: me.

So, this is my last tournament with Mischief. With the roster solid, and full of enough women players that I'm not needed, this should be the last tournament I go to with the team. Certainly as a player, as I haven't ruled out taking statistics. Of course, that assumes the team is okay with my tagging along. I think the next tournament isn't until the middle of August, so I have time to ponder the next tournament.

Given this is my last expected tournament with the team, I was really hoping, hoping beyond hope, that I would be able to go to the tournament and, like everyone else, just have everything taken care of for me: someone else rent the car, someone else deal with the rooms, someone else deal with game times and getting the players to the right fields, someone else deal with the organizing and coordinating, and just let me play.

The biggest reason I became the defacto team manager so long ago was because every time I left it to someone else, something disastrous happened and I would get screwed. Okay, a bit dramatic there, and a definite exaggeration, but if not screwed, certainly get the short end of whatever stick happened to be presented.

Think: Rippit, Regionals 2002 and the disgusting hotel to save $20 a night.

Of course, there are serious, way big exceptions to this rule, Nationals 2005 being the perfect example of this.

Yeah, well, tonight wasn't an exception, unfortunately. Since I was flying in from Chicago, and not with the group, despite the fact I was scheduled to arrive two hours before everyone, there wasn't car space for me, I'd have to get my own car. WTF? I'm arriving BEFORE everyone else so that they don't have to wait for me, but I have to rent my own car.

Fine. Whatever.

My carload, which I have to admit, was the best carload ever, with Mark, Wade and Andy, went to get cannolis in Boston's North End. However, by the time we finished eating and the retarded GPS unit navigated us through Boston to the hotel, we were the last to the hotel.

Last to the hotel that gave us three rooms with single king sized beds instead of two double beds. So, each room sleeps two, maybe three on the big bed, instead of four.

Last one to the hotel equals no bed space.

This is why I make the travel arrangements. This is why I always want to be the first to a hotel. This is why I always get more rooms than the team thinks it needs. $100 / 20 people is $5 a person, and $5 I'm willing to cover if needed. Hell, I was willing to get my own room tonight, I didn't care.

I went up to the woman at the front desk for help. "You gave us three rooms with King sized beds. That's six bed spaces. We reserved three rooms with double beds, that's twelve bed spaces. One of those missing spaces is my bed space. What are you going to do to fix this problem?"

"We don't have any rooms available."

Right. So much for getting another room. "That's not what I asked. I asked what are you going to do to solve my problem, the problem you created?"

"We don't have any rooms."

"Do you have any rollaway beds available?"

"Uh..."

"Perhaps you should move several rollaway beds into each room, and comp the cost, since this was your error."

"Uh... I'll have to wait for my manager."

In the end, I was so angry with the incompetence of the woman at the front desk that I just launched into bitch-mode, becoming completely ineffective in resolving the bed issue. Mark saved me by running down the hall, around the corner, and returning with a rollaway bed and three blankets. The rollaway had been used, but sleeping on a blanket and under another one, and I was fine.

Now that I have bed, I'm embarrassed about my inability to resolve the problem myself. If someone else had a problem, I'd be able to solve it. My problems? I just become bitch.

I need to know when Regionals are this year to make hotel arrangements sooner than later. That, and I'm glad the team has Spawnfest hotel rooms already. Gah.

Different type of terrified

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Okay, I am at this point nearly completely terrified. Nearly. Not all the way. Not so that I can't function.

Just mostly.

And differently than last time.

I've submitted an application for a presentation spot in the TechCrunch50 conference. It almost feels like the application to the spot for Team USA back in 2005, with one big exception. One REALLY BIG exception.

I have a backup plan.

A REALLY BIG backup plan.

Still.

My heart this thumping. My blood is racing. My fingers are flying. And I'm doing exactly what Kris told me to do: "No skipping out on this. No fear of failing. You do it this time. I mean it."

So, I am.

And I'm terrified.

Married does not mean dead

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Okay, people, let's get one thing straight: just because a person is married, doesn't mean she's dead. My grandfather said on many occasions, "I can look, as long as I don't touch." Which means, yes, looking, and talking, and flirting and all of that is OKAY, as long as we understand that NOTHING IS COMING FROM IT.

No, really.

No, REALLY. I mean it. NOTHING.

So, to the friend who freaked out on me, look, I like you. I like spending time with you, as little as I've spent with you so far. I think you're a neat person, someone who fits into my "good person" category, as well as my "hey, this could be fun" category. You're interesting, and funny, and engaging, and seem to have similar interests to me. This means, I'd like to get to know you better.

No. Not for a relationship. Not for dating. Not for anything of the sort.

I have an amazing marriage that's quite wonderful (well, except the WoW thing, but we talked about that, and we're making progress, and that's not as much the issue as it was at the beginning of the month), so that sex thing? Isn't going to happen. Not even partially happen. Not even a little bit happen. I don't want it to happen. Honestly, I'd be very surprised if you did, but, hey, I never claimed to understand men.

But the friends thing? Yeah, that could be great. It'd be nice to have another person interested in going for hikes, or attending various conferences, or throwing the disc, or hanging out at DevHouse events, or coming to Communal Dinner, or giving feedback on some project I'm working on, or just whatever.

And the flirting thing? That's as far as it goes. So, stop with the freaking out, okay?

Seems odd

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Seems odd to be able to say, "This is my back yard."

Looking tired

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Wow, the old house is looking old.

The trees were hacked

At least the one of the trees my dad planted when I was six was still growing.

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