Hitting my stride

More about BlogHer? Please bear with me as I work this out of my system.

This year I finally learned to relax and enjoy what I was doing. I don't know what my pathology is, but usually I am always thinking "OMG, I am missing something!" Which, if you are at BlogHer, is always true. No matter what you are doing, there are 6 OTHER fun things you could be doing.

I relaxed into the moment and spent most of the conference chillin' like a villain, something I had never been able to do before. I had to keep reminding myself that I really, really hate big crowded parties where you have to scream at one another to be heard.

So Thursday night, instead of going to the People's Party, I sat outside in the warm Chicago night and snarfed tapas (Cheese and herb-stuffed eggplant! Garlicky garbanzo dip! Cheese & Olive plate!) with Suzanne and Maren.


On Friday, we (along with Count Mockula) skipped the hell that is Blogger Speed Dating (an introvert's worst nightmare - meeting 30 bloggers in an hour and giving them your spiel for a minute before listening to theirs. A headache waiting to happen, in my hermit-like little mind) and strolled to Marshall Fields (It is never gonna be Macy's to me!) to shop at Lush and pretend to be Ladies Who Lunch (except we lunched on Frango Mint Ice Cream Pie and banana splits) before returning just in time for MORE lunch and swag-collecting.

I seriously pondered going to a session or two, but that was before I found Laurie Writes and Goon Squad Sarah hanging out in a lower lobby near the latte place.

Since one of my top priorities this BlogHer was "spend more time with Laurie and Sarah," I ended up sitting with a view of the river in a comfy chair and enjoying myself thoroughly, as fascinating sessions sped by, unheard by me.



But I did not mind. I got all fancy and sparkled up for SparkleCorn and went out and shook my groove thing. The next night, I paraded my pajamas all over the hotel (much to the dismay of some other guests) for the Shutter Sisters PJ party (I explained to people in the elevator "I lost my clothes somewhere").

I missed out on Room 704, CheezeBurgHer, BowlHer, and most sessions. But I did what I wanted and it was pretty much perfect that way. It only took me four years to figure that out.

Next up: BlogHerWorld

Life is pretty rough on the 30th floor.


Oh, hai, the Red Stapler Photo Collection is up on Flickr.

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I think I took the wrong book to BlogHer. I picked up Aayan Hirsi Ali's "Infidel" from the library before I left. It was unnerving to be reading a book about how women are oppressed in tribal Muslim societies while marinating in a bubble bath of pure female empowerment.

It gave me perspective. I kept thinking "Hey, any good day you wake up with your external genitalia intact is a GOOD day." Despite that cheery, glass-half-full perspective, I still maintain that the book was not my best idea ever because I spent the weekend plotting BlogHerWorld, where every woman on the planet gets to find their voice, realize their power, and eat mini-cupcakes.

When I arrived on Thursday night, Barack Obama was across the street at the Hyatt. Did he stop by and say hi to us bloggers? Noooooo. I blame Jenny the Bloggess .

Can you imagine how hard it would be for BlogHer to get security clearance after she took inflatable sheep sex toys on a U.S. naval aircraft carrier? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Instead, his senior advisor Valerie Jarrett showed up to talk health care reform. These people are serious, y'all. If you have anything you want to say about health care, go talk to Queen of Spain and she will forward your comments on directly to the White House. That, my friends, is what is great about this country. And BlogHer. Yay, us.

The Inevitable BlogHer 2009 Post

Welcome to my BlogHer post-party post. My PJs I bought for the Shutter Sisters Pajama Party were so comfortable that I have been wearing them ever since.

I had some serious problems with BlogHer this year.

No, not really, but it gets your attention, doesn't it? My problem is that BlogHer is 99.9% fun, overwhelming smart, funny, happening squee-fest and .1% dumb jerks making a scene, yet, through the power of bloggyness, the scene gets exaggerated and commented on and exploded like confetti that you can never get out of your carpet.

The good thing about the scene is that it gives people who didn't go a chance to dust off their hands and say "Well, I am SO glad I didn't waste my time and money on THAT."

You go right on ahead thinking that, people. It just leaves more hugging and super-rich little chocolate and vanilla mini-cupcakes for me.

My other problem was with my roommates, these people:


My serious problem with Maren is that she doesn't think she is beautiful, which just hurts and flabbergasts me. I wanted Tim Gunn to take her aside and show her how to let the cat of her natural beauty out of the bag she keeps it hidden in. I would sell my soul to Beelzebub for her eyes and hair...sigh.

And my problem with Suzanne is that...well, ok, to tell the truth I don't have a problem with her, either. Over the past four-plus years she has become a soul-sister in somewhat intellectual, yet foulmouthed and scatalogical snarkiness, a rare combination of traits that pleases me to no end.

My two roommates put up with my snoring, my messy sprawl that engulfed the bathroom and most of the floor, and a classic Suebobian Grand Slam freak-out when we went to Geno's East for pizza and I discovered that I could not be in that place ONE MORE SECOND.

Ah, it was a great weekend, full of win. I did everything I wanted and very little of what I didn't.

I have 17 more BlogHer posts in me, but I wanted to put something down in pixels sooner rather than later. Adios, amigos.