So this weekend I went to Blogher and basically it confirmed that I should never leave my house again. It was awesome and terrible. Like a tornado filled with glitter and pretty shoes.
I did a reading at the Community Keynote and (surprisingly) was the only one drinking heavily backstage and (unsurprisingly) was the only one who had to physically hang on to the stage curtain to keep from falling over because “the stage was slanty” (it wasn’t). Oh and my anxiety disorder kicked in so I had to wear my “confidence wig” and I think everyone kept thinking there was a reason I was wearing it, and were waiting for me to do a Britney Spears interpretation or something but no, actually I’m just a weirdo and it turns out that most people don’t even own a confidence wig. Laura sent me a videotape of the whole thing and it’s hard to hear which is a blessing, because basically I lost my place on the page I was reading from and just started ad-libbing crap and talking about the NRA. What the fuck, me?
I also went to the party I was supposed to be hosting and it was so awesomely big that I ended up staying for about 14 minutes before bolting and hiding in the men’s room for the next four hours. At one point I was interviewed in the bathroom and (I’m told) I gave an educational seminar about peeing standing up through labia manipulation. We can only hope that video tape was destroyed in the shoe tornado.
Then Laura shows up like 4 hours later and I’m still sitting on the sink and she’s all “The fuck, dude? People are concerned. I’m getting calls from people saying you’ve been in the bathroom for four hours!” and I’m like “Well, that’s probably because I’ve been in the bathroom for four hours. Hey, have you met the Backstreet Boys?! (I don’t really think they were the Backstreet Boys)” and she’s all “Those aren’t the backstreet boys and why have you been in the bathroom for four hours? You missed your own party!” and I’m like “Um…because I’m me” Then Laura’s like “Well..good point. We’re getting you some fresh air” and then she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom and I’m all “I miss my sink! Where are we going?” and she says “To the bar” and I’m like “YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND EVER, LAURA!” But then we get to the bar and she tells me I can only have water and she turns away for 12 seconds and suddenly a cocktail is in my hand and she’s all “Where the hell did you get that?!” exactly like I did when Hailey found the Tijuana porn under my bed but really I think she was more amazed than mad. Laura re: the drink, that is. Not Hailey re: the Tijuana porn.
Then I realized that I had forgotten my antidepressants. And that’s when things got really weird.
More to come unless I get distracted. Oh look! Dust!
PS. Photos stolen and vandalized from the awesome Aimee Greeblemonkey and Califmom.
Comment of the day: I totally did not know who you were backstage. I am not lying. I mean, I read your tweets and shit, but I did not have a real idea of what you looked like and I thought maybe you were a cancer survivor with a bad blonde wig. I am not making this up. ~ Suebob