Tag Archives: blogher 2012

Things I Learned at BlogHer12 (that they didn’t actually teach me)

(1) Just because a woman has ‘succulent’ in her blog name does not, repeat NOT, mean she has an erotica blog. Do not assume it. And, for the love of Henry, do not ask her to her face if she writes a sexy blog. She doesn’t. You will feel like a schmuck. And you will be forced to stand there for 10 minutes staring at each other and making small talk about the decor in the room around you.

(2) Know that when you have ‘tits’ in your blog name there is a risk of offending 1 in 2 people at BlogHer12. Seek these people out intentionally.

(3) Make people uncomfortable by asking them to determine whether or not you actually got the ‘new tits’ referenced in your blog title. Wear different quantities of bra padding daily to throw off your fellow attendees.

(4) Use your phone’s texting feature to communicate silently with your friends during moments where someone is speaking at a podium. Or you will be shushed. Often. And very stink-eyedly by the lady in front of you. And then you’ll realize that you have now made an enemy. Cover your name badge so she can’t associate you with immaturity and selfishness. If possible, steal your friend’s name badge so only she is slandered by this self-righteous woman.

(5) Realize that if you or your writing partners are too funny on the above mode of communication (mentioned in #4), your efforts will be futile because one of you will inexplicably burst out laughing and look like a complete asshole in an otherwise quiet room.

(6) Try to make your friend be the one who looks like the asshole (mentioned in #5) by outfunnying them. (Yes, it IS a word. Look it up.) (Pause for effect … and because at least one dumb ass will look it up.) (Fine. I owe you a Coke.)

(7) Know that, because you are new, you will not be invited to any of the special parties being hosted at the event. Decide that it is okay and secretly plot a pigs-blood-from-Carrie moment for next year’s convention against one of the popular girls. Then put it as #7 in your post so that everyone actually sees it and starts sweating it out wondering “Oh, shit. Will it be me?” as they make mental notes to leave all white clothing at home next summer.

(8) Regret that you wrote #7 but, instead of deleting it from your list, simply apologize to everyone and let them know that you will not be bringing any pig blood to Blogher13. Mostly because you’d need more than 2 ounces of it so airport security would just take it away anyway. Get fired up thinking about airport security and start googling ‘pig farms’ and ‘slaughterhouses’ in Chicago because the whole ‘Carrie’ plan is back on … but now targeted at airport security.

(9) Prepare your family for your inevitable arrest at O’Hare next year when you throw a suitcase of pig blood on the security team because you are fed up with being body-scanned every time you travel.

(10) Hope that everyone reading has a funny bone located somewhere in the 206 bones of the human body (nerd reference … so that you can walk away saying you learned at least one thing reading this post). Remind everyone that you are just an idiot who writes pretty much whatever you want. Sound convincing when you assure them that when they meet you in person you will only politely say “Nice to meet you. And what do YOU write about?” … while secretly clenching a small vial of pig’s blood in your clenched fist. Just in case.


A big shout out to my roommate and homegirl (I can say that because I’m white), Mel at According to Mags, for not stealing my kidney or posting naked pictures of me on the internet after rooming with me on the very first day she met me.


We brought dates to the Sparklecorn party. (And now you guys really think I’m obsessed with blood.)


If we’re very lucky … Mel’s Christmas card.

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Can’t wait ’til next year!

Attention all sponsors … I will wear, eat, say, write, demonstrate, juggle, sleep on, dropkick, sing about, paint, annihilate, augment, hurl, imitate, read, cheese-cover or endorse anything if you pay my way to Chicago in 2013.
“Well … almost anything,” she added cryptically.



In response to MamaKat’s writing prompt: write a blog post inspired by the word “fired.”

Fine. I took a few liberties. As in I searched my posts for the word “fired.” It appears in #8 of this post. As in “fired up.” And I laughed out loud when I re-read it. I wonder if anyone else finds me as funny as I do. (sigh)

Poche, party of one? Poche, party of one?

If you could write a letter to Money, what would you say? (For Wells Fargo)

Wells Fargo is having a contest. A contest that awards money. Which is honestly one of my favorite things in life. It takes me to foreign places, it brings me cheese and it helps me to spoil my kids with things like, I don’t know, socially-acceptable rodents. For that reason, when I saw this contest via Blogher as a means of discussing my lifelong relationship with money … well, I just couldn’t resist writing it a little letter. Enjoy.

Dear Money,

I wanted to drop you a quick line to check in and see if everything was okay. Have I offended you in some way? It seems like just a few years ago we hung out every day but now I see less and less of you. Was it because I flaunted the idea of using you frivolously for a boob job? Yes, it’s true. I was considering it but have tabled the idea for a while due to some health problems we discovered.

Honestly, whatever it is that I did, I want to apologize wholeheartedly. You and I have had a pretty solid relationship most of my life. And I felt very close to you until recently. Whenever I’ve needed you, you’ve always been there. Even if you were the last one to show up! Sometimes I think you liked watching me sweat it out a little. 🙂

But now you hardly ever stop by. And, when you do, it’s never for the kind of quality visits we use to have together. Remember the lunches, the pedis, the vacations? You just don’t seem to have time for me anymore. Haven’t I been good to you? Haven’t I always appreciated you?

Please consider coming for a visit when you have a chance. Dave, the kids and I would love to take you to dinner sometime soon.

Wishing you were here,