There’s about 8,476,294 posts out there about blogher. Whether it’s what to pack (which thank you to all of those that gave me a running list, as I know I’ll ultimately end up forgetting something that I won’t be able to buy at a store, or won’t want to fork over the money for, because it’s too expensive), what to wear, how not to make an ass out of yourself, how to make an ass out of yourself (I really don’t need help in this category), or tips from a seasoned blogher veteran, I haven’t yet seen the “omfgimfreakingthefuckoutbeauseiveneverbeentoblogher” posts.
Allow me to add one of those.
Except not really.
I mean, yes, this is my first blogher. I’ve wanted to go since its inception, as it was right in my backyard at the time, but I was a few months post miscarriage at the time, and while I was physically up for it, mentally, I just wasn’t ready to leave the confines of my house. Then the next summer, I was knocked up, then I was in Newborn Hell. Then Early Intervention “maybe your kid has Autism” hell, followed by “what the hell? PREGNANT AGAIN?!?” Finally followed by Newborn Hell part II, the extra heavy anxiety and depression chapter.
And when I thought about it, I realized, man, for someone who battled infertility for so many years, I spent a lot of time being knocked up and caring for babies. With proper editing, I could make myself seem like a Duggar.
So, five years later, I’m finally able to go to blogher, and I have to admit, I’m a little nervous. Mainly because it seems so big and overwhelming. I’m looking forward to seeing old friends, finally meeting people that I consider old friends and meeting new friends. I’m also excited to be in the city, because I don’t get there that often, and when I do, it’s so fleeting and I end up seeing most of Times Square, which I hate, because Times Square is like Disneyland, it’s just way too touristy.
So, if you read my blog, and you’re going to be there, here are a few things about me:
I may come off as bitchy or stoic.
I am so not. I’m pretty much as I am on my blog. I’m sarcastic, I’m a dork, I swear a lot (probably more because I have to curb my potty mouth around the kids) and I will probably talk your ear off out of nerves, but I pretty much roll with things. It’s just that I was cursed with a shitty pair of eyebrows that always make me look pissed off.
I like to talk.
See above. I may be quiet at first, not for lack of being shy or anything. I just take it in, and then forget it. The BFF always wonders if I’ll ever shut up (after three years, you’d think she’d know better).
I’m social media stupid.
Even after blogging for 8.5 years, I have no idea what the hell any of this new fangled stuff is. I’d love to write, but know nothing about my “brand”. I’m a casual, (more like spacey) tweeter, and I’m hopelessly addicted to frontierville on facebook. I’ll probably hand you a “business card” (calling card? blogging card?) and you’ll be like “um, wtf is this?”
So yeah, that about covers it. I get by on my humor, witty commentary, and the fact that I’m bringing multiple bottles of vodka with me. So stop over and say hi.
Yeah, I don’t have much else.