Camp 'Point of No Return': AWP 2007, The Naughty Bits

Dave, as usual, did a wonderful, diplomatic job of describing our fun times at Camp AWP (This Year's Theme: "Boy, These Drinks Sure Are Expensive"). But I know what you people really want, even if you won't admit it: the good stuff, the behind-the-scenes look, the dirt, AWP: Uncensored.

So, first of all, let me just get this out of the way upfront: that was my dick. My frank n' beans. The Captain. Ol' Squint Eye. For all you ladies (and gents) out there who'd been wondering what Mike's twig and two berries look like -- well, you should have been at Some Bar Whose Name I Can't Remember at Some Time I'm Not Sure Of on Friday (I think) night. I've been told it was glorious.

Now, before you start asking, no, I'm not gonna get into the whys and hows and onto whoms -- a gentleman doesn't flash and tell -- but I will put this one thought out there into the Universe, and I hope all present will keep it in mind when they relate this story to their friends and loved ones in the future: It was very, very cold that night. Shrinkingly cold. Though, really, the owners of Some Bar Whose Name I Can't Remember should be thankful, because on a balmy night in July, Ye Olde Ramming Log would have blasted half the room's glassware to bits.

Okay, moving on.

Biggest Loser of AWP: John Irving. How many people were at your "keynote address," Mr. Irving? Five? Six? Did they all look like weiners? Well, that is what you get for scheduling your talk opposite The Barrelhouse KGB Bar All-Star Spectacular. Let this be a lesson to you: you go up against The House, you're gonna get Housed!

Second-Biggest Loser of AWP: AWP. Hey, conference organizers, here's an idea -- why not reject a super-fun, super-awesome panel that would have been more popular than an Obama rally, and instead approve one more dull-ass panel with the words 'reification' or 'nano-ontology' in the title? Seriously, did this conference exist in Bizzaro World? There were a couple interesting panels (like the ones featuring Friend of the Barrelhouse Thisbe Nissen) but, on the whole, the weekly schedule was enough to make MLA look like a Monsters of Rock festival.

Awesomest Dirty Mouth of AWP: the aforementioned Jess "Yeah, I'm From Brooklyn, What's It To Ya?" Piazza. Anyone who makes a rape joke before introducing herself gets four gold stars in my book. Bonus points for telling a middle-aged woman who spun our Wheel of Destiny that her death would be from venereal disease. Classy.

On the whole, a good time was had by all. Or so I'm told. Large chunks of my memory have been mysteriously replaced by old Foghorn Leghorn reruns, which I assume means either Jess or Alice Munro slipped something into my drink.

See all you bitches next year in Chicago!