I'm Totally (Not) Going to Blogher!!!

I started a comment on The Bloggess's post today about Blogher that got too long. So rather than eat up miles of her comment area* and totally piss everyone off**, I though I'd just parlay that here and piss you off because you already love me. It's about Blogher and how she's going and hanging out in the bathroom. Go read it. I'll wait...[the part where she says "If you’re not going to Blogher then just skip this post" just ignore that. I know we're not supposed to ignore what The Bloggess says, but indulge me] ...................

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Totally jealous. But if I were to go, I'd probably be not be in the bathroom, because that seems to be where all the real bloggers are (or "bloghers"? See? I don't even know the difference).

But it would never get to that point, because if I even brought it up, Max would be all "what? why? you're not even a real blogger" and I'd be all "I'm as real a blogger as you are a squash player"*** and he'd be like "no way" and I'd be all "way", and he'd be all "you mean that thing you do that wastes time when you should be giving me hummers?" and I'd be all "dude, you *never* got hummers before I started my blog [not even before we were married -- or rather, early in our marriage, mom -- so there was no fraud there, in case you were wondering], but if that's what you want to blame it on *now*, then yes" and he'd say "It's not even real!" But I'd ask, "If I 'fake' my entire life, and am 'real' on my blog, which is actually real? And would I be 'real' in a room full of strangers, or would they be strangers or would I be the strange one, or just the drunk on the table trying to drown her public anxiety?" and he'd answer "well, we don't have enough air-miles for you to go anywhere. Plus you don't have a passport."

We often have 'real' (not the opposite of 'fake', but rather In Real Life) whole conversations where one of us will have the discussion with the other right in front of them without the other actually speaking. This "conversation" is usually summarized by "see? I don't even need you to have a conversation. I know exactly what you're going to say."

[crying in my lonely fake-blog beer. At least the beer is real. Except that it's a glass of wine. Or sometimes Gin + OJ + 7UP, which I still haven't named]

So, to summarize: what is the name of my Gin + OJ + 7UP drink? I'm taking suggestions. Remember, a Gin + OJ + 7UP + GRENADINE is a Singapore Sling. While delicious, that's just too many ingredients to keep on hand for the summer.

Yes, I have two, if not three posts to write to summarize last week. And three filthy kids to bathe. And a shit-hole home to tidy up. Yes, I'm stalling.

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*[like I used to do to Nenette and is a large part of the reason I started my own, because she said "GETTHEHELLOFFMYBLOGALREADY!" although she said it nice]

**[I'm too small to piss off The Bloggess, although if I did, everyone would be wondering "hey, who pissed off The Bloggess so bad?" and come here and find out and be all "Really? hmph"]

***[I would TOTALLY never say THAT in real life, because he's worked WAY harder and WAY longer on squash than I have on any of this. He's got like 175 squash followers. Maybe more. But they don't count them like that because they're all "we're way too fucking cool to bother with something as bourgeois as 'counting followers'" But if I were to spring the word "bourgeois" on them, they'd be all "I totally loved the 2003. It had a delightfully peppery after-taste"]