Thanks!
This week’s “That’s What She Said” is all about the ‘she’. I talk about my weekend at the BlogHer09 conference. I don’t have a lot of pictures from the event, but what I do have you can see here.
I slept in, packed and am taking Daisy to my brother. WHO IS NOT ALLOWED TO LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO HER. Do you hear me Benjamin? Nothing.
Let’s just get this out of the way, shall we? Do you see my suitcase? Yeah, I packed my baby blanket because, apparently, I’m still six-years-old. Luckily the blanket is pink and therefore matches my second security blanket: my pink flask.
If anyone needs me I’ll be cuddled up in the corner drinking. Heavily. For the rest of you there will be a guest post tomorrow to keep you company and it will have nothing to do with BlogHer. I promise.
Last year I wanted to attend BlogHer, but didn’t. I was so worried I wouldn’t fit in. I’m not a mommy blogger and many of the sessions were parental themed because lots of attendees are moms.
What if we have nothing in common? Yeah, I’m an idiot like that. I have a lot of things in common with them. We all have a vagina and blogs for example.
This year I ignored all my fears and decided to go. Plus I finally found a silver lining to hanging out all weekend with thousands of moms. Are you ready for this? Moms are flask insurance.
Huh?
It’s brilliant really. Every mom I know has a bottle, or sippy cup somewhere in the bottom of a purse. Bingo! Sippy cup o’ vodka: it’s the must have drink for this year’s conference. The first thing I’m going to do when I arrive Thursday is beg my mommy roomies, Loralee and Sandi, to let me dig through their purses.
Now, whose purse has the vodka? Seriously, WHO? I want to meet you.
Actually I want to meet everyone, but vodka purses have priority. That’s the kind of bag that takes the edge off, which I’ll need because large crowds freak me out.
I’ve had a busy week, hence the boring blog. I’m leaving for BlogHer next Thursday and I’m trying to wrap up a bunch of school projects before I leave. This means the majority of Daisy’s time has been spent sleeping instead of demanding I fill her treat stick.
Luckily she hasn’t been too lonely. She had a stuffed friend to snuggle.
That or she’s found the dog equivalent of a blow-up doll which even grosses me out to write, so let’s stick to the snuggle partner.
I leave for BlogHer one month from today. I wasn’t stressed out until I wrote out my ‘to do’ list:
1) Lose ten pounds so no one has to see pictures of my ham arms all over the Internet and wonder why there weren’t Mormon funeral potatoes served with the ham.
2) Find someone to design a new blog header and business cards. This stresses me out beyond belief. Design work makes my brains explode, which would NOT make a cute design. Only zombie lovers like that shit.
3) Magically fix my dog’s rotten ass so I can find someone that will agree to watch her while I’m gone. No one will volunteer to keep a dog that can melt skin with her farts.
4) Figure out what clothing to pack. I don’t understand why pants are required in public. It would be a lot easier if I could wear my pajamas the entire weekend. Seriously, BlogHer planners, wouldn’t a giant girly sleepover party be more fun?
I’m only allowing myself to worry about four things. The rest will fall into place. And if it doesn’t? Well too bad. I’ve got school and work to stress about.
Here’s what I’ve done with my list so far:
1) Jillian Michaels is working my ass every single day but so far the only thing lost is my will to live.
2) I found someone who will design something I love, but she’ll also get it done quickly. Yay for Alma Loveland’s design work! Use her. Worship her. Do not send her chocolate. That you can send straight to my mouth. OK, so I think we figured out why I’m not losing weight.
3) I’ve only made Daisy’s ass worse by switching her food. If you live in the greater Salt Lake area and you smell something disgusting that is not the lake. That is Daisy. Sorry.
4) I had planned on wearing jeans and tee shirts the entire time, but I was lucky enough to find a clothing saint. Heather from Fawn Boutique has agreed to come pick through my closet and find just the right outfits to take. What she doesn’t know is all she’ll find is black shirts and jeans. I can’t wait to see what surprises she has in store. (Heather if you’re reading this please bring magic. You’re going to need it.)
Two out of four isn’t bad. I’m halfway through my list, people! I totally deserve a drink.
Dear Heart,
It’s Valentine’s Day. This should be the day of celebrating a loving relationship, yet we aren’t. I blame you.
No really, I do.
You’ve been so absent lately. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if you’re still working correctly. There’s no other explanation for your complete failure to love someone of the opposite sex properly. You’re so good at loving family, friends and even that stinky pug, so I know you are capable of love.
What’s your deal? Are you still upset with me for staying in that relationship even after you’d been broken? I’ve apologized so many times. I’ve even fed you ice cream, AND chocolates. There’s nothing more I can do. You need to let it go and forgive me.
Sure, I understand you’re probably a little scared of getting hurt again, but we are strong. If we work as a team we can kick the shit out of this love thing. We are tough bitches, my friend.
So what are you so afraid of?
Dude, stop being a pussy and live a little! If you break, you break. Broken hearts mend. And I have an entire box of Hello Kitty Band-Aids, just in case.
Now go out there and make momma proud. Or else.
Love,
Me