The Details- Part 1

Roommates:
Heather greeted my sorry ass at the train station. She saved me from a blind man in a wheelchair that befriended me and told me he was going to surprise his nephew in Albuquerque that didn't know he was coming and had never even met before and made me rummage through his grocery bag luggage to pull out a map so he could show me his stalking route- that wasn't weird- at all!

She then helped me drag my broken wheeled suitcase to the bus stop through construction and had the patience of a saint during my cursing of all things living.

I will forever get misty- eyed when I hear the hum of a breast pump and not be able to look over and see Brittany draining her engorged bazookas with her computer on her lap- bitch can multi-task like no one's business. Sniff.

The room was trashed and not once did I try to clean it up. I'm pretty sure even the Hispanic cleaning staff never set foot in the room for fear of stepping on a dirty needle or catching airborne Hepatitis. The coffee and booze that I set on the table throughout the weekend stayed there the whole time. They were an intelligently safe cleaning team.

The best, messiest, and least modest roommates (Anissa) were understanding as fuck with the 7AM wake up calls from my husband that lead to my number of breakdowns. They totally saved the mocking for behind my back and those- are good friends!



Anissa, Me and Brittany (Heather left early- leaving me with a bed all to myself- yay, but of course, I missed her!)


The People:

The first people I met as I was walking into the lobby were these ladies and HOLY SHIT (of the cool as fuck Canadian Brigade) what kind of way to start off my weekend, right? I'm certain they were clueless who I was and have no recollection of meeting me, but, in my mind, we're totally acquaintances.

I met a lot of people. I remember every single one of them because I'm a dork like that-I have a dissociative mind of a steel trap. I won't list them all because the glamour of restraining orders are wading in my mind and they're a pain in the ass. I seriously enjoyed each and every person I met. I will, however, share the ones that I have pictures of... because blackmail is fun.

There should be a law of equity against someone being so god damn beautiful, leggy, and sincerely a nice person- there has to be a balance in the world- and she is proof that life ain't fair. Lisa's energy and charisma could be bottled up and it would outsell heroine easily! (Yeah, I don't look the least bit uncomfortable being in the same picture as her, do I? Self conscious much? At least she crouched down to my level- she's like 3 feet taller than me- she's a giver that way- just another aspect of her perfection- bitch! I mean that in the most loving way, dear!)
The Parties:

Friday night, we attended The People's Party. It was wrought with anxiety and perspiration in there. I'm pretty sure the room contained 200 people over the Fire Marshall's guidelines.

Jill, Brittany, and Me- couldn't push our asses and knock over more bloggers with our swag bags towards the bar fast enough!

When that party started clearing out- the people that knew the schedule and had their shit together went to the Room 704 party-that I totally forgot about. Besides missing out on the candy bar that makes the best sex you've ever had seem rather mediocre in that swag bag (thanks to my roommates for sharing!)- it was all good.
Because with the room winding down, Jenny, The Bloggess, came out of the bathroom! And we totally groped.
Then we (and by we, I totally mean Lisa) asked Nina from Imagination Movers if she would be willing to sign Jenny's boobs and she was all, "well..." and then her publicist jumped in and was all, " um... Hellz to the no," but politely and professional and blushing. You'd have thought she asked to do a blow job to one of her puppets! When Lisa discovered she was on a children's show with puppets- she was mortified- bless her Christian do-gooder heart. But the look on the publicist's face will live with me in hilarious infamy for the rest of my days!

As if that weren't entertaining enough... Jenny says, "that's Nancy"... then I say, "oh my fucking Christ"... (Nancy W. Kappes, paralegal) we compared and contrast medication bottles and hers put mine to shame with all the fun colors and shapes. She shared her vodka disguised as a water bottle with us since the bar had stopped serving.

You can see the combination of fear and excitement in my eyes- the fear was from that gang sign she was doing with her hand!

The Sessions:

On Saturday morning, there was a "speed dating" exercise where you introduce yourself randomly to someone and then move on after about 60 seconds. The first 10 people I met were travel bloggers, photography bloggers, Christian bloggers, and techies- I shit you not. If you have ever read me- you can imagine my eyes glazing over and the panic that began to set in. Then the next few people that I gave a card to- recognized me- they read me- they had been in my crazy mind and, although, that should have totally freaked me out- I was moons over my hammy about it! They reignited my flame- thank you so much!

On Saturday afternoon, HappyHour Sue graced us with her presence and reaffirmed that the friendships made on the interwebz can become lifelong ones! I love her and I'd share my last Xanax with her, if it came to it!

Credit for most of these pictures goes to Lisa- yet another thing she's good at.

First Blogher Wrap up- oh yeah, there will be more!

I wouldn't have guessed that this would be the hardest post I have EVER written.


The post Blogher post.


The anticipation and expectations are far too high for my post traumatic stress capabilities at this point.

I am still beyond exhausted, my ass aches from 12 hours on an upright train seat, and I have a tapestry burn on my leg from dragging my asinine suitcase with broken wheels 2 city blocks to the bus stop.

I have read great wrap up posts- better than the words that I can currently put together in my fragile state. I met amazing people and can honestly say that I wasn't disappointed in any one person that I met.

Canadians excrete coolness effortlessly- just an observation.

You won't get any trash talking here, not at least until I go through all my pictures so I have evidence.

I learned that I have not made much social advancement since high school. I am still the one that blends into a crowd. I am still the people watcher. I observe and soak it in. I smile and nod. As much as I'd love to be the party animal and life of the party, it is not to be.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel self conscious, though. Call it confidence, call it old age, call it xanax and vodka- whatever. I was excited to be out of the house- to be around all of those amazingly creative people that manipulate the language as an alternate form of expression to the awkwardness that is human interaction.

I know not of the 'drama' that I've heard going around, except my personal brand of baggage that I brought crying and cursing through the streets of Chicago on my cell phone (another story that will need to be carefully crafted for another time.)

What I do know is that flow of tears and humiliation were comforted by hugs, nudges, and a $21 buffet breakfast with people that I had never met.

First impression- FAIL.

They showered me with the warmth of a loving friend of many years and made me feel like a little less of an ass. In my snot infested nervous breakdown moment surrounded by virtual friends, but actual strangers, I felt, for the first time in a long time, like I fit in. I had a place. It was a distant place off in the corner, but still, a place.

This was the reason I went. This was the support and community I found in the cyber world and wondered if it would translate into real life.

I am happy to say that it did.

I'm Ready!

I'm overwhelmed with details right now, but so excited that I haven't slept in two days- I know that's going to eventually come back and bite me in the ass.

The packed suitcase on the floor of our bedroom has forced my husband into the next phase of mourning my absence- ACCEPTANCE! Can I get an AMEN? Seriously, this load has been lifted off of me and I actually feel like I can enjoy this trip now.

I've been trying to stock up my house with food, paper supplies, cleaning supplies- anything that might be needed. I've been scrubbing everything down, cleaning out cabinets (you know, so it looks like they are ALWAYS that neat!) As I was writing a note of instructions to the sitter (my husband's Aunt S) it dawned on me that I'm going to be found out soon.

In just about 48 hours, it's going to become clear that I don't do shit. My "stay at home mom of 4 kids" cover is going to be blown.

There were no real directions to write down- no medications, no allergies, no appointments, no special instructions. My kids are like a bunch of trained monkeys and this place runs like a well-oiled machine most of the time. I guess it is to my credit that I trained them. So maybe my new cover should be "animal trainer"- how does that pay?

Aunt S's head might explode when she first hears the fighting since she's a 40 something woman without children- she may not be aware of the overload of estrogen that can rage in girls ages 4,8, and 10. And she might be a little overwhelmed with my 14 year old son's hyperactivity and occasional destruction, but all in all, they're angels.

What does this mean?

I think it means I'm ready. I've done my part here. I've kept the savages fed for this long. 14 years, 4 kids, and only 2 trips to the emergency room- I'd say that's like a, what, 98.7% success rate?(Don't worry, I've kept the math teaching to the professionals.)

I think it means I'm due. I think it means I won't have to hear their fighting for a few days and my headaches will only be vodka-induced. I think it means I've done my job fairly well. I think it means I will be happy to get away for a while because I deserve it. I think it means I will miss them, but I will be better for them when I get back.

premonitions...

At the butt crack of dawn on Thursday morning, I will be driven to a train station for the first time. I will have an over sized suitcase and a duffel bag- that will have approximately 12 outfits, 10 pair of shoes (because it's good to be prepared for 3 1/2 days) and fabulous accessories like this from Sorrelli Jewelry.

(which by the by, they are offering an extra 5% discount on everything - use discount code "BLOGHER5"- even sale stuff...PLUS through Friday- they're having a summer sale of 15% off a $100 purchase- so that's 20% off- marvel at my math skills, do ya?)

Oh yeah- my suitcase will also contain vodka- if you know of some train conductor security measure that may confiscate my liquor, please tell me now!

My husband will make my departure miserable because that's what he does. That's why this will be my breakfast...
I will kiss the little dumplin's good bye for. the. first. time. evah!

Once in Chicago, you may notice a bounce in my step (or stumble, depending on how many Xanax it takes me to get out the door) with a gleeful, yet cluelessly, giddy smile (or glaze). I will be the only one without a Blackberry or i-Phone. I will be using a borrowed laptop that I have no idea how to use. I bought a new Nikon camera- which I also, have no idea how to use, but at least I didn't have to resort to the disposable and Ashton Kutcher is kinda cute and digs old chicks.

I may be groping people I admire in hopes that the greatness may rub off- or just for fun- who knows. I will be in awe of people that have talents that I can only dream of. I may get misty eyed. I will have waterproof mascara.

Ready, Set, Aim Low!

First, we have just launched a new, fun, freaking fantastic website called Aiming Low- taking low to new heights. Somehow the witty powers that be that are running the digs over there saw right through my perfect facade **cough** and thought me and my slacker ways would fit in- how right they were. I do have a hunch that some over-achievers have snuck in and infiltrated the place though- because they've been a busy!

My first post is up now and I could use some comment love. I think my niche over there is "the old bitter lady- that doesn't like to shower"- I'll take it. But all of my posts won't be that introspective- promise!

I must now speak about BlogHer-T minus 3 DAYS. OH. MY. GOD!

I told/reminded the husband yesterday about my impending travels. After I took a Xanax. At my son's baseball game surrounded by people.

He was less than thrilled. He really doesn't get it. He really doesn't get blogging. I'm trying my best to keep my cool and hold my tongue before I say something I regret.

He has threatened to go to Europe by himself when I get home- so that seems fair, wouldn't ya say? It would be funny, if it wasn't. If he wouldn't have to take out a second mortgage our house for it- I would throw him a Bon Voyage party myself!

He doesn't "understand why I want to go." Plain and simple- he just doesn't get it and he won't. I don't think there is anything I can say to convince him and his old-fashioned, guarded ways any different. I can't help, but to think how awesome it would be him to say "go, have a good time!" But alas, he won't, he is not fond of me going to meet my "freaky computer friends".

So, yes, this will add to my anxiety, as I was afraid it would, but not take away from my excitement, damn it! I will do this and I will enjoy myself.

What BlogHer Means to Me

I remember this time last year- I was new to blogging and kept seeing this term "BlogHer". Every other post I would read mentioned it and my eyes would glaze over because 1.)I didn't know what it was 2.) I wasn't going and 3.) figured I would never be able to go to such a thing.

Oh have times changed!

That's your cue if you're still in the "eyes glazing over" phase- this is probably going to be an all BlogHer- all the time zone for the next 2 weeks- deal!

I now know that BlogHer is a convention of bloggers (mostly women, but not discriminating, but that's where the "Her" comes in). It is in a different place each year- this year- Chicago. You can learn about the business aspect of a blog, advertising, formatting- all the shit I'm clueless about. That's why I probably won't be found in those sessions.

However, it's going to be a hotel full of bloggers.

I have blogged for a little over a year. When I started, my complacency with being a stay at home mom had begun to fade. My husband's anxiety and fear of the unknown had become my sickness as well. I needed an outlet- for what? At that point, I didn't quite know.

I knew I was sad and lonely. I knew I needed something to call my own. I knew I had a lot to say. I knew my creative juices were simmering within me and being held back for fear of political incorrectness. I knew my kids and my husband deserved someone that was happier and well-adjusted.

I have poured my heart and frustration onto the keyboard at times. I have put things out here, I wished I might not have. I have gone through a couple near nervous breakdowns and many bouts of depression. I've shared embarrassing stories and admissions. Through it all, though, I found that outlet I had been looking for. I no longer feel like I'm going to bust. I finally have something that is under my control.

Along the way, I have found a community of people that understand, empathize or just listen. I've found so many times that I'm not the only one feeling the way I do.

The only weird thing about this, to many, and I suppose to me also, is that these people that have given me such hope, talked me through difficult times and been there as a support system- I have never met.

That's where BlogHer comes in. I finally get to meet some of these people "In Real Life" (that's the tag line of the conference).

I've never said the statement "I blog" in my real life. There's a stigma that goes along with that and it's just another headache that I don't need- and let's be honest- my blog is not exactly the "mommy blog" that we want circulating around my kids' strict Catholic school!

That's not to say that I don't want to say it. I do. Believe it or not, I've been proud of some of the stuff I've put out here. I'm damn proud of what my blog has done for me. It has gotten me to search for me again. It has given me the confidence to be me again and not just say the things I think I'm supposed to say.

Next weekend, among meeting some of the people that I credit with saving my sanity and embracing me as me, I am going to be surrounded by people that get it.

Next weekend I will proudly say "I blog."

The dress

It's 1:35am and it's just me, my anxiety and the keyboard! Insomnia can kiss my ass.

I shopped today for clothes (a little black dress, to be precise)for BlogHer.

The first store I went into with high hopes, good intentions, and a smile. I was cocky- grabbing strappy dresses with little structure in single digit sizes. I had all 4 kids in tow and thought I could do it.

I learned otherwise.

I left crying and feeling bitch-slapped by time and gravity.

But there was still a job to be done.

So I put on my big girl pants (my Spanx), found a babysitter, and braved the fitting room alone- with me and my big girl sizes- gulp.

I decided that the first dress that zipped up pass my boobs and gave me the balls to walk out of the fitting room to look in the 3-way mirror was the victor.

It was the 12th dress I tried on!

I pulled a muscle trying to get the zipper up. However, my backfat only got pinched a little, so there's that.

I will need some assistance getting dressed that night- preferrably someone that can manhandle backfat and is a warrior with zippers, any takers?