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.

Don't mess

Public service announcement: Those decorative chenilley-velvety lap blankets? Should not go in the laundry:


They especially should not go in the laundry with your fuzzy pink slippers.

It was a lap-robesplosion. It was like it had been run through a shredder instead of a wash machine. Good thing I had bought it for $3 at a thrift store.

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I was in a hurry to drop Goldie off so the folks could watch her while I went to the gym.

Yes, I KNOW I can leave the dog home alone for 2 hours, but the dog does not know I can leave the dog alone for 2 hours. When I start getting ready to go, she stands out by the car and urges me to hurry up so she can go see the Beloved Grandparents.

I pulled up to the house and found the driveway fully blocked by a black Toyota truck. Not just the butt-end sticking a foot into the driveway, no - this was like someone thought the driveway was a real parking spot.

I saw the mass of people kitty-corner at a yard sale. I marched myself across the street.

"Does someone here have a black Toyota pickup?" I asked.

This lady separated herself from the crowd and I made this "move it on out" kind of gesture because I really didn't want to talk to someone so rude and stupid.

"Oooh, I didn't realize I was parked so far back," she said.

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Anyway, you could have parked somewhere else."

"What?" I yelled.

"I was only going to be a minute, you could have parked somewhere else."

"Don't be a rude idiot," I said.

My dad was slowly making his way out front. He is, after all, legally blind.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The woman was in the truck moving it forward, windows down.

"Some dumb bitch was parked blocking the driveway," I yelled.

"Hey!" she yelped as Dad laughed and I walked in the house.

A note of explanation. I don't lose my temper in public very often. I never swear in front of my parents. But there is a first time for everything. Fortunately Dad thought it was hilarious. He chuckled for an hour and made me repeat the story twice. I actually think he was kind of proud of me.

A second note: I got my period that afternoon. Which explains a lot.

Coincidence?

Once upon a time, my children, I rented a room in a house (that in itself is a story for another time).

In that time, great rains came. It rained every day and every night for 28 straight days.

Those of us who lived in the house knew the roof had some leaks, but we could not get the roof fixed because every roofer for 100 miles was busy patching leaks.

At this time of my life, I showered every night right before bed.

One night I lay on the couch thinking "I gotta go take a shower."

It got later and later, but I was struck by such a great fatigue that I felt like I couldn't get up.

It was very strange. I felt like a giant hand was pressing down on me, keeping me prone on the couch, unable to move.

I kept saying to myself "I HAVE to get up. I have to take a shower," but I could not move.

Suddenly there was a loud noise. Crashing. Breaking.

All four of us leapt up to see what had happened. The sound had come from the bathroom and we ran in there to look.

The floor was covered with a foot of sopping wet, heavy insulation and sheet rock. The bathtub was completely full of it. With the fallen, sodden material and the sheet rock, it weighed tons. Anyone who had been in the bathroom at the time it came crashing down would have been killed or, at very least, badly hurt.

When I look back I wonder what hand was pressing me down on the couch last night, and why.

Dog's Life

Schmutzie commented the other day that she likes it when I post photos of Goldie, because she always looks so happy.

Let us delve into what it is like to be Miss Goldie. Thus, her daily schedule:

5:15 Awaken Suebob
5:30 Awaken Suebob more forcefully, get scratched and praised for 5 minutes
5:40 Go outside to survey the yard, chase birds and check for evidence of cats. Eat cat poop.
5:45 Go back to sleep on couch

6:15 Sleep on bed while Suebob takes a shower in order to keep an eye on her
6:25 Get scratched on the belly
6:45 Go outside, wait by car
6:50 Come back in, sigh, and look at Suebob meaningfully - hurry up!
6:52 CAR RIDE CAR RIDE
7:05 Arrive at grandparents
7:07 First snack of the day
7:15 Chase birds
7:20 Go back to sleep
7:45-9:00 Demand to be let in and out to amuse self with grandparents
9:30 Sit on patio with grandparents, get scratched and treats
9:45 Chase birds in the backyard
9:50 Sleep on grass after rolling around for a while
11:30 Beg for food at lunch
11:45 Dog food
12:00 Naptime
2:30 Awake for snacks and Judge Judy
3:00 More nap
3:15 Walk with grandpa
3:40 A snack might be good
3:45 Sleep
5:05 SUEBOB!! OMG SHE CAME HOME!
5:07 Play catch in back yard
5:30 CAR RIDE! CAR RIDE!
6:00 HOME! HOME!
6:05 Torment dogs next door through the fence
6:15 Snack
6:20 Tired. Nap.
7:00 WALKIES!!!!!!

8:00 Home. Drink 1 gallon of water. Cool off under open window.
8:10 Sleep
8:30 Perhaps a bite to eat
8:40 Sleep on couch

I have no idea why she always looks happy in photos. Right.