The BlogHer10 Finale (Aspiringmama Style)

 3 Responses »
Sep 022010
 

I know I’m a bit behind the 8-ball here, but I just got home this past Friday and figured now was as good a time as any to get my BlogHer groove on.Call it my (Semi) Wordless (Day After) Wednesday photo tribute, because I sure as hell am going to.
Juliette and I actually ran head on into TheNextMartha while trying to exit the elevator to find her. Yay for having a clue!

There was that stop in the  Smores suite where I pretty much embarrassed myself. Until that moment when the first bits of gooey melted chocolate and marshmallow smushed between crunchy graham cracker burst into my mouth, I’d pretty much denied myself all things not clean. Which means the Smore was dirty. But damn, dirty can be so good. And Theresa and Mary looked so much cuter than me and my  Smored-out face, so we’re gonna post this one and call it pretty.

The revolving doors at the main entrance to The Hilton. Pretty snazzy, eh?

We missed breakfast every morning. Rooming off-site and staying up half the night will do that to you. So we got our MilkMustache and then got some breakfast (hello sausage pancake on a stick!)

If Mrs. Potato Head The Pillsbury Dough Boy…Elmo…and Dora were on my Must Meet and Be Seen With at BlogHer10 list…I rocked that goal. Hard.

There was more than a bit of sightseeing…

And then there was The Bloggess. Don’t worry. She’s only offensive to assholes. Which is funny because I fancy myself an asshole and yet…I wasn’t offended. Go figure.

There was also plenty of glow-in-the-dark party fever at the Sparklecorn shin-dig

And then there was this. My poem. By The Bloggess.I’d call that pretty much done, wouldn’t you?

A Brain Cloud in Progress

 8 Responses »
Aug 222010
 

I’ve got these great ideas for blog posts. I think them up all the time.

When I’m brushing my teeth or giving Buttercup a bath.

When I’m driving.

When I’m knee-deep in a three week hell-cation and am aware that aside from, like, 2 friends, no one I actually know reads my blog (yet).

These moments happen all the time. You know the kind. Where you look up from whatever you are doing like Twist on The Fresh Beat Band and suddenly have a bright idea animate itself right next to your quirky little smile? Those moments are awesome…sometimes a blog post even writes itself. And when I’m in the habit of writing everyday, I can hold on to these mind pictures long enough to get through an entire day (including a story and bed time) before finding myself with enough free time to sit down and peck at the keyboard.

But I’m not in practice right now. Instead, I’m grasping at straws with no idea what I was thinking about five minutes ago because I am:

*simultaneously reading Eat, Pray, Love and Julie and Julia on my nook and calling it Baby F(Ph)at research while I continue to plod my way through the #agentsearch.

*bitching cuz I never found the time to get my sport length acrylics redone (read: filled and filed way the hell down) after BlogHer and am now hating life as I type because I still have a few BlogHer posts to write and at this point I’d really rather just not.

*ignoring and being mutually ignored by BFF Mel as our marathon-online-window shopping Skype session has surpassed the point of conversation, the interest of The Husband and Mr. @Bobherz, and has morphed into a nonversation. I’m writing a blog post and she’s trying to find the perfect accessories for her new nook and every 10 minutes or so one of us will ask the other how it’s going, the other will give a noncommittal “s’ alright” before resuming our BFF-y shared silence. Well shit…I think she just hung up on me. It’s cool. Not like we weren’t talking for three hours.

*recovering from 20 days away from home, even if home isn’t the home I still own 2,500 miles away because The Husband took a job 2,500 miles thissa way, and realizing that after this time on our own—with no real family or friends out here—I much rather prefer my own brand of crazy than the kind forced on me by competing personalities and agendas…even if it means scorpions and tarantulas because it’s legal to drown them in bug spray.

*thankful that the, like, 2 friends I have who read this blog won’t be mentioning this blog or the contents of this post to any of the little faces I may be imagining on said scorpions or tarantulas in the weeks to come.

*hoping that the little faces think I’m talking about other little faces should they ever come across this blog post when I’m at the top of the New York Times Best Seller List on a day that they got bored and decided to troll for a reason to start an argument because the laundry is done and the kids are in school and really, what else do we do right now?

*munching on Buttercup’s Gerber Graduates Mild Cheddar Lil Crunchies because I knowingly and willingly jumped so far off the wagon while away that I’m now resorting to pilfering my daughter’s cheesy snacks because it’s almost midnight and I’m not even looking at a spinach leaf until Monday morning after I wake up, not before I go to0 bed and oh hell yes is this an important distinction.

*wondering if I should break up with my Blackberry gently or just tell it like it is…

*also wondering if I’d get more blog comments if I gave the two friends who are reading it a cute group nickname, like pranksters but not, cuz that one’s already taken.

*wondering also if I’d already be a famous writer with book deals and “Now a Major Motion Picture” stickers on my book covers if I had started out not actually wanting to grow up to be a famous writer.

*thinking that the idea of Catherine the Great peeing on me whenever it rains is one of the sweetest ways to bring a smile to my face when I might be having a particularly shitty day.

*am surprised you are still reading thi…never mind.

The BlogHer Mexi-Fro

 5 Responses »
Aug 112010
 

Remember this? I sure as hell do. After years of therapy to fix my kinked up ego after one too many childhood Halloween parties where my fellow Brownies confused my fro’d out, rainbow-striped hair for a real clown wig and tried to yank it off, I put it all on the line for Juliette.

And if you saw my pretty little up-do at BlogHer and ooh’d and ahhh’d over my slinky like frizzies and the masterpiece I constructed with about 50 bobby pins (for which the sole intention was humidity control, mind you), then it’s time for a reality check.

Yes, I know I looked cute. And Leah and Jenny told me so. Multiple times. Of course it went to me head.  Before Leah decided to throw me under the bus and tell Jenny that I would be more than happy to pay homage to the Chia Pet once again. (And yes, Bookieboo and The Bloggess asked me to so you can bet your sweet ass I agreed. Just call me “fan-girl”.)

So here it is, world.

This is before…

And this is back in my off-site BlogHer hotel and free of the 50 or so bobby pins I had to send a search party in to retrieve while TBFF Juliette laughed her ass off after…

Just imagine the chances I passed up for making homecoming court in high school. If I’d been this brave back then, I may not have had to beg my way into Student Congress.

No Room for Good Intentions

 2 Responses »
Aug 102010
 

You may recall that I may have mentioned something about possibly squeezing in a workout during the Craziness For Which I Was Not Prepared at BlogHer.

And, like, i totally meant to! I really did. I even packed gym shoes and workout clothes in that practically empty suitcase the day before heading out to New York. I really totally meant to when I saw Mamavation Queen Leah in person for the first time at The People’s Party and realized how absolutely adorable she is in person. I may have even told her that I was going to make good on last week’s blog post and sweat my booty off BlogHer style. She said something about thinking I was adorable, too, and I walked away hoping to got she was drinking enough to forget about my promise to be good and motivated.

I may have been able to make it to the gym during expo hall hours, but that would have meant that I missed out on chasing down Elmo like a mother posessed for a chance at a photo and solidifying my place as the Best Mother in the World upon my triumphant return home with this photographic tropy. And really, I’m thinking you would have done the same in my position.

Normally, I’m just getting revved up when the rest of the world is starting to relax for the evening. I get my best work done at night and as soon as Buttercup is asleep for the night, I’m ready to write, blog, clean house, and find a way to get a good work out in between 9 p.m. and midnight. Of course, my suitcase didn’t have any room let over for good intentions, what with all that swag, and all, so I spent my evenings in New York fan-girling with the best of them while acosting innocent little Bloggesses like Jenny just because she was sweet enough to punch out poetry for her minions while The Voices of the Year Gala raged on a few rooms over. Luckily, I convinced Her Blogessness to drop the stalker charges with promises of self-mockery and photos of my pretty up-do un-done in its Mexi-fro glory for the world to see. (You know, because it wasn’t embarassing enough the first time around Stay tuned on round 2. It’s coming.)

I did have a few hours in the afternoon when I could have stolen away and gotten myself good and sweaty, but I spent that little segment of time in a shuttle and at a luncheon at BLT Fish where I had my Yo Gabba Gabba moment when I was presented with a plate of fish. It was either eat the salmon and tuna I’d been avoiding since I was pregnant and my taste buds mutinied on me (Try it! You’ll like it!) or starve while I learned about the importance of seafood intake during pregnancy (ironic, I know). So I dined on this…

 

and I actually liked it. DJ Lance would be so proud.

And I’m plenty sure I could have made time to work out to my heart’s content while traipsing around the big city in an attempt to keep up with my TBFF, writing partner, and roomate, Juliette, on her multiple mad dashes to see Time’s Square and shop at Macy’s and take a bike taxi and get whiplash in a taxi. But well, by that time I had whiplash and how smart would it have been to work out?

So I had pizza instead before getting my minimum 2 hours of sleep before hopping on a plane away from the crazy and back to the slightly less (but not much less) crazy that I’m like, totally used to.

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