So I said I’d write more Blogher stuff but I’m easily distracted and can’t fit in all of the wonderful people I met or missed or drunk-dialed and so instead I’m just going to skip to the part where I tell you the things I didn’t do. Like how I totally didn’t force Evany to give me her autograph while I babbled about the time I gave a non-plussed Amy Sedaris a love letter with pictures I’d drawn of her holding my (now dead) cat. And how I totally did not crawl over to a semi-conscious Amalah in Macy’s pantyhose section and start anxiously rambling away about the time I passed out on top of my cat at the vet’s office and woke up on the floor with my shirt ripped open and two paramedics and a bunch of dogs looking down at me because that? Would be ridiculous. Who would do that?! Not me. Also, I did not share a toilet seat with Mocha Momma or stick pregnant barbies in my boobs. Singing Little Mermaid songs in the men’s bathroom and attempting to use the urinals? No. Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.
In fact, one of the only things that I’ll admit to doing at Blogher was the community keynote address and the real, professional video has finally come out so I’m posting all the links here so you can hear them all. Watch them. It will remind you why you got into blogging in the first place: Random sex with strangers. The amazing power of a life story.
Eden and Sarah
Megan (Haven’t seen her video pop up yet but here’s her post.)
Stephanie and Zan and Casey
Doug and Polly
Lindsay and Yvonne
Evany and Deb on the Rocks
Also, I just want to clear up two things. First of all, when I say I’m an “addict” in my keynote I’m referring to being addicted to blogging, not drugs. I should have been more clear but I was a little high terrified.
Secondly, I’m going to make a t-shirt that says “I’m not as drunk as you think I am”. Because I’m not. Mostly because I can’t afford that much booze. Besides that, people think I’m drunk even when I’m dead sober because I’m filterless and stupid and fall a lot and so I basically have what I call “the three-drink handicap”. Everyone else in the world after 3 cocktails = me just waking up. Then I have one shot and I’m technically only slightly buzzed but with my three-drink-handicap I appear to others to be reaching the choke-to-death-on-my-own-vomit stage and bartenders stop serving me. Which is probably why I started getting calls from people after blogher asking if I would come to an intervention if they threw one for me, to which I replied, “What will you be serving?” In retrospect that might not have been the best answer but in my defense I was drunk. Also, I’m not sure they said they would “throw me” an intervention as much as they implied they would tie me to my bed until the D.T.’s passed but my way sounds nicer. Mainly because it seems like something that would involve confetti and tiny napkins. I’m not proving my point here very well but just take my word for it that I am less of a dangerous alcoholic and more of an entertaining cheap date who drinks lots during terrifying social situations and not much otherwise. In fact, last week I only had one inch of alcohol (for charity!) and absolutely no crack at all so when you take into account my three-drink-handicap I’m actually in the negative and am now subtracting drinks I had at blogher.
I’m no mathematologist but I’m pretty sure that’s how algebra works.
Comment of the day: George Bush is sober. Need I say more. ~ Always home and uncool