Sunday, July 26, 2009

BlogHer Confessional

I seriously need to get these things off my chest, because they are burning like the scarlet letter:

I lost my tweezers at some point – maybe I left them in Africa – and then I forgot to buy some new ones before I came to Chicago, and then I didn’t think to go out and buy one once I got to Chicago, so I spent the entire weekend with random black hairs trying to create a unibrow across my normally tamed brow area. I don’t *think* anyone noticed, but there were also a surprising number of times that people in a conversation with me suddenly needed to be somewhere else, which may not be a coincidence.

I am secretly a little glad that I wasn’t allowed into the MamaPop party on Friday night, because it gave me an excuse to go back to my room, shower, watch some TV, and go to bed early. I am, however, sad that I missed out on gastro-intestinally snogging unicorn butt.

I kind of want to offer The Bloggess $50 to be my roommate next year, so that if I have another bout of “Oh my God I can’t go downstairs I can’t even get out of my bed people will laugh at me why am I such a depressed and anxiety-ridden freak of nature?” I will have someone in the room who understands. However, I have this suspicion that offering someone $50 to be my roommate is sort of frowned upon and might be viewed as the kind of desperate need to be loved that causes most people to tactfully suggest seeking professional help.

On the ride from the Sheraton to the airport, I was thinking about the Room 704 party and how they had swag bags with vibrators. And I was thinking of how I had initially been hanging around near the swag bags with some other cool ladies, waiting for the party to start, excited to check out what fun frivolity lay within the brown Bloomingdale’s bags (not because I wanted a vibrator, because actually, I didn’t, but just for the fun and excitement of it). But after a little while, I started to feel like I was at a Who concert, pressed in on all sides by women who were clearly desperate for tiny sex toys in the shape of woodland creatures. So I decided to step out of the way and let others who cared much more than I did be first in line for the vibrators, and I gave up my chance for the bags. And later I saw some of the vibrators they were giving away in the drawing, and they looked like the chocolate bunnies you buy at Easter, and I decided I was glad I didn’t get one, because I don’t want anything near my lady bits that looks like something you would purchase and consume to celebrate a traditional Christian holiday. And I was thinking all of this while riding in the shuttle to O’Hare, and I suddenly realized that I was thinking all of this, and I was scared that the lady next to me was going to try to converse with me, because I just knew that if she asked me something I was going to accidentally blurt out, “VIBRATORS,” in that extra-loud voice like when someone asks you to repeat your name for the third time and you’re trying to be very clear so they won’t ask you a fourth. “Where are you from?” “VIBRATORS.” Or: “What do you do for a living?” “VIBRATORS.” Or, maybe worst of all, “Were you in Chicago for business or pleasure?” “VIBRATORS.” And I just knew that if that happened the whole shuttle – and it was a full shuttle – would get completely silent and the level of extreme discomfort would rise until someone farted to relieve the tension. And the way things were going, that someone would probably have ended up being me and I would have spent the whole ride wondering if the embarrassment of having farted in a van full of weary travelers was or was not a good trade for the embarrassment of having essentially admitted that I was in Chicago for neither business nor pleasure, I was there for VIBRATORS.

Okay, I’m feeling much better now. Anyone else? The confessional is open…

12 comments:

BetteJo said...

Ha! Love your stream of consciousness tram thoughts! I'm not far from Chicago in the suburbs, but that paralyzing "who would want to meet ME" thing totally kept me home. Didn't even consider going so I say you don't really need to pay anyone to be your roommate next year. You'll probably have volunteers! Everyone probably has some of those freak of nature fears.

Mrs. Chili said...

I just found out that BlogHer '10 is going to be within striking distance of Chez Chili, so I'm totally going. I've wanted to go for years now, but have never had the chance. This time? I'm starting to plan my getaway NOW.

1A said...

I thought your eyebrows looked perfect. It was so nice to meet you at BlogHer! Are you on Twitter?

flutter said...

I've seen you in person. You are beautiful and stylish and totally sweet.

stop worrying about who would want you for a friend.

I do.

Dysfunction Junction: said...

So, yeah. Meeting you & The Bloggess was the highlight of my night. Screaming about giant penises? Just icing on the cake.

And I didn't notice any stray eyebrows.

Major Bedhead said...

I didn't notice any stray eyebrows and if my eyebrows didn't get commented on, then yours were just fine.

I'm so glad I finally got to meet you and hang out with you at dinner. That was fun. My face hurts from all the smiling and laughing I did all weekend. 's great.

unmitigated me said...

I would pay YOU to be your roommate, and this post is hilarious. Except I need to point out that A)you are a lot of fun to be around, and B) I think VIBRATORS might actually fall into the 'Pleasure' category.

Nanny Goats In Panties said...

Oh God, LOL, you're KILLING me with this post!

I'm not sure I'd want the airport Security guys digging through my luggage and holding up a chocolate Easter Bunny with a cord attached to it, asking if it's a bomb and me trying not to blurt out "VIBRATORS". Oh, the whole thing makes me sweat just thinking about it.

Also? I'm sorry for staring at your unibrow. I'm sure it was a coincidence and that I was just daydreaming or something and not realizing where my eyes were. If you like, I can stare at your chest next time.

Lara said...

Nanny Goats - And that right there? That's EXACTLY why I always place my name badge in the location most likely to get people staring at my boobage - so that they get so distracted by my chest that they forget to notice the unibrow.

Velma said...

So, I'm pretty sure I was sitting right next to you and a bunch of other ladies I wanted to meet at dinner on Sat. night. (P.J. Clarke's, right?) But I think we were all suffering from introduction burnout right about then, so 'll chase you down next year. :)

Clair said...

If I'd been drinking anything, I would have just shot it out of my nose and onto my computer. Thanks!

Anonymous said...

HA!!! Love it.