Sigh. I really wanted to go to the big BlogHer conference in New York City this weekend. I wanted to go so badly that I have barely been able to read the blog posts of the bloggers who I knew were going. Even if they posted about the crummy garbage cans they had to clean before they left, I could not stand it.
I'm not there.
Neither, most likely, are you. Or you would be off having some stupid great time and certainly not reading material that created the network in the first place.Whatev.
Here is what I am doing instead. I mean, here are the super cool things I am doing to take special time for myself. My "me time".
I took a nap. I was poked no less than 4 times by bratty children who had been watching a Care Bears movie for the 89th time this week. One time I was poked because one of them had poked the other and the first one was tattling.
I smoked a few cigarettes. They were disgusting and yummy at the same time.
I tried to find a way to get vodka into a juice box. I have been so far unsuccessful. However, I found that sucking the vodka straight from the bottle is just as efficient. Probably more so.
I wore a fancy new dress "donated" to me by a super fancy dress designer in the hopes that I would wear it and describe it on my blog. I wore it to do laundry, specifically pee laundry. There. I described it.
I turned the lights down at dinner to pretend we were at some super fancy NYC restaurant paying a billion dollars for our tap water. But the kids bitched that they couldn't see what food they were complaining about so I turned the lights back on.
I demanded The Husband drive and let me sit in the back so I could pretend I was in a taxi. He let me call him "Driver".
Okay, which of these is true and which are false? Who wants to play? Make your own list if you want and link back! No one is going to comment and no one is going to play because no one is on their computers. I'm posting to myself. Maybe I'll comment a few times to myself just to make it look good. Maybe I should just go to bed and quit here. Yeah.
I'm here and I still love you!
ReplyDelete<3
See?
It did not occur to me that any of those were false. They all seemed reasonable to me. Except the free dress. How could you get a dress without trying it on? Maybe I only feel this way since I don't have one of those "good bodies" I'm always hearing about... Anyway, I'm pretty sure that a free dress for me would require about 10 pairs of socks for the top half and slits to my waist for the bottom half.
We must have been at the SAME Blogher PARTY!!! How could I have missed you!!
ReplyDeletePooh. I couldn't have gone, anyway. I'm still being reviewed.
Know how you feel. I wanted desperately to go to the adoption conference in Connecticut this week end and MK's due date ruined it. I should be meeting people IRL and instead I am home cleaning and trying to figure out where to put are newest. :(
ReplyDeleteBlogHer, SmogHer. The real party is in 11 days, baby...
ReplyDeleteI dunno. I guess I've never been one to want fame, and I don't know how you get to go to the conference, but it seems to me that if you had such a huge readership, then you'd get a lot more negative comments -- people telling you how they'd do your job, people complaining that you don't write about their favorite topic enough, people volunteering to be your unpaid editor ... now, that you wanted to go someplace cool and feel special -- that, I get.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm sure there has to be a way to get vodka into a juice box. The question is, does there still need to be juice in there?
No, I'm not at BlogHer either...but then, I didn't have to worry about bed bugs, hangovers, flight delays, or wearing heels.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking that the nap is false, because we all know how hard it is to get a nap with small kiddos around. Vodka in the juice box? I'm still working on it...and my kids are past juice box age.
LOL! Vodka in the juice box? Well, silly, I just use the turkey baster. Or maybe I just drink out of the baster and forget the dang box. Just remember to pretend you are slaving over dinner and basting like crazy. They don't have to know it's you getting baked.
ReplyDeleteGiven the fact that going to the grocery store by myself seems like a vacation I don't think I could handle the fun at an actual conference. Merging back into real life must be taken in baby steps.
The nap sounds true to me. (Actually I thought they were all true till I got to the end of your post.)
ReplyDeleteI also thought they all were true until I got to the end, so I am going to say that the nap one is true as well as the turn the lights down at dinner until the children complained. Ha Ha!
ReplyDeleteI amy be the last person in blogville to even know what blogher is...
I am not at Blogher either.
ReplyDeleteI celebrated by falling asleep on the toilet I am so effing tired with my rugrats.
I shouldn't be on the computer. There is no less than 6 semi-folded loads of laundry (some of it pee laundry because I got the asenine idea this year to use cloth diapers) that need to be put away.
I love your writing. Someday we will meet in NY. In like, 12 years when our kids are older and boring and we have no inspriation for our blogs.
I sooo wanted to go to the BlogHer party as well.. Alas, I'm socially incompetent and it would have been a flop.. Especially since a few of the bloggers I might have actually felt comfy hanging with (you being one) weren't there.. Plus the fact that for some reason (we'll blame my wayward period) I'm a raging witch this weekend and that's probably not the best for making new friends.. See it's better that I didn't go!! That's the theory I'm working with.
ReplyDeleteWe should just plan on going Next year.. or maybe the year after?!
Hey, I'm here! I haven't been out of the house for fun since the birth of my firstborn in 1970 and no i'm not agoraphobic.
ReplyDeleteWe know where the real party is: at home wearing comfy-cozies, sippin a cup of tea, children asleep and quietly (and without interruptions) reading each others' blogs, silly!
ReplyDeleteOh, you should have been on Twitter. We had a HomeHer10 conference. People even gave us things. Even real things like vacuums and fancy shmancy cupcakes. I personally won a crapload of M&M's and not to mention had a ton of fun. Great break out sessions like "I watch so much children's programming I wish I were an animal in trouble" Pairing wine with whine. We even had a super fantabulous dance party at the end with a sparkly unicorn and apparently the news covered it. Fun times. Sorry you missed it.
ReplyDeleteI'm not even on the right CONTINENT for BlogHer. Boo.
ReplyDeleteUntil you got to the dress, it didn't even cross my mind that they might not all be true. And I've been thinking about the vodka - a syringe, surely, would work? Like you get with baby paracetamol? I think that would do it :)
LOL! I can't believe you all thought they were all true! I so totally wish fancy designers were sending me clothes!
ReplyDeleteI did not actually try to get vodka into a juice box. I have fantasized about it, and tried to figure out how I could do it. It hadn't occurred to me that I might not need juice in the box....
Off to out of town.... will be off the grid a few days!
The fancy dress had me going...have a great time off the grid.
ReplyDeleteVodka + injector baster + juice box - a little juice = way more trouble than it's worth when you can pour it straight into a glass.
ReplyDeleteBut it would totally work.
Don't feel bad--BlogHer doesn't even know I exist. Their loss!
I'm guessing you did not really make your husband drive you around in a taxi. Are you going to give us the answers? :)
ReplyDeleteOK I am guessing you don't smoke.
ReplyDeleteOr drink vodka, especially from juice boxes! LOL
Or wear the super fancy dress to do pee laundry. Haha
Jacky
I couldn't play because I was listening to family history lectures in southern Indiana, instead of being where I wanted to be.
ReplyDeleteI think if you'd worn the designer dress you would have had someone photograph you. I think the cross between a nap and some sort of sleep-deprivation torture sounds real. Been THERE, for sure.
Try a funnel.