[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
things you missed out on this weekend, and you're gonna hate yourself for it
you didn’t come to the blogger meetup weekend thing in atlanta, so there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know. i mean, a lot of stuff. it wasn’t just a weekend all about drinking and strip clubs.
that was just mostly what it was about.
so, i hereby present the cliffs notes version for those of you who missed out on the best blogger meetup weekend thing ever in the history of blogger meetup weekend things:
- styro is the shit. don’t even question it. she is nothing but the bomb, and there is no room for discussion. things she can do better than you include, but are not limited to: decorating a pineapple, charading “ticker tape parade,” etching the fucking coolest martini glasses in the entire universe, and writing vin diesel haiku.
- larry mac has a way with the strippers that boggles the mind. the strippers love larry so much that they feel compelled to write short stories for him. seriously. and then give him copies. and these aren’t just any short stories. these are short stories about demon-possessed vampire strippers. at least i think that’s what it was about. anyway, it was awesome. furthermore, larry is the consummate blogger, shaming all the other faux-bloggers by actually real-time blogging the event…something that, apparently, didn’t cross any of our minds. we are not worthy of carrying larry’s laptop.
- snowy is hotter than you are. she knows the universal hand sign for “kielbasa” and she’s not afraid to use it. additionally, she makes the best disco compilation cds ever and she will trash talk you during a jenga game until you're on the verge of tears. she can use the word “titration” in a sentence. correctly. when she isn’t putting bob vila to shame by putting up some drywall, she is a superhero. and, you might not know this, but she’s from sweden. or finland. or one of those nordic places. please make a note of it.
- michelle and her non-blogging [but we love her anyway] sister, julie, are so sexy that if you look at them for very long, it will burn your retinas out. seriously, you can’t handle it. none of us can, we’re only human. they look equally good sporting a pimp visor, and they have a secret language that they use to communicate with one another so that, even though you’re in the same room with them, they’re having their own conversation and you can’t even hear it. also, if either of them tells you that they have to leave the room because “you’re making us laugh so hard that our head hurts,” what they really mean is that they’re going downstairs because the massage chairs are open. they’re just trying to be nice.
- mark is a man of hidden talents. many of which are now no longer hidden. among these no-longer-hidden-talents: chugging a martini that contains absolutely no trace of a mixer whatsoever; making a veggie-pizza-thing that is so yummy that you can’t help but eat it the next day even though it sat out on the counter all night and might give you food poisoning or lockjaw; taking artsy pictures of booze and cute dogs; kicking ass at soul calibur even though he has never played before. your first instinct when faced with someone so multi-talented might be to hate them just a little...but he’s so damn nice, you just can’t bring yourself to do it.
- scott is a mixologist. a mix master. mixerrific. he can mix you any drink you want..as long as it doesn't require lime juice. hell, he can even make up a drink for you. on the spot. just like that. a brand new drink that no one has ever heard of because he just invented it right there in front of you. and, lest you think his mixiliciousness is limited to booze, it’s not. he can also mix a cd like nobody’s business. and, in case you were wondering: fantastic hair.
- k is such a rock star that she makes mick jagger look like lawrence welk. she can rock the old english blingified initial choker necklace in such a way that keith richards weeps because he realizes just how rock star he isn’t. she knows more about tattoos than you do. and she will gladly join you in making fun of the drunkest guy ever as he attempts to eat his french fries, but keeps knocking them off of his plate because he’s just too drunk to get them the eleven inches from his plate to his pie hole.
- cw has the following things that you do not: the world’s most patient wife, who happens to make the best waffles you’ve ever tasted. the world’s cutest dog. the world’s largest collection of flavored vodkas…although we might have lost that title for him, as we decimated it in one night. the most kick-ass massage chairs known to massage chairkind. a whole separate refrigerator that has nothing in it but beer. the foresight to save on tivo the best moment in reality television ever, and the patience to indulge me as i beg him to play it one. more. time.
we drank. we laughed. we drank more. we ate red velvet cake and s’mores. we tried not to think about whether those were cigarette burns or pox on that one stripper. we decided that the internets are good places to meet some cool people. and, we all shared something we had written.
reading someone's blog is an interesting thing. sometimes it is easy to believe that you know who a person is by staring at the pixels they cobble together. by reading their "100 things about me" list. by finding out what music they're listening to, or what they did over the weekend.
but hearing the voices of these people as they share with you the words that poured out of them and onto the screen, you realize that those pixels -- no matter how they moved you when you read them -- just don't do these amazing people justice.
all in all, you missed out on one helluva weekend.
and, when i say "you missed out" this means you.
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