At that time, Frank had just recently started seeing a lovely girl named Andrea.
A little over four years later, Frank and Andrea are getting married, and I am going to be Frank’s “groomswoman” (or “groomsbitch,” as he’s been calling me).
Groomsmen are usually in charge of throwing the bachelor party, but as it came closer to being about that time, it turned out that Frank wasn’t going to be able to squeeze it in. Money, the fact that he would need to travel from New York to Pittsburgh, saving up vacation days, and so on all prevented our hedonism. I felt kind of bad about this and told Frank that he should do something “bachelory” and we would watch via video chat and cheer him on. Since he’s not into strippers, my suggestions were to leave clothes and pizza boxes strewn all over his apartment while we watched and screamed, “WOOOO! YEAAAHHHHH! WOOOOO!”
Sounds silly, right? What actually ended up happening was not that far off. Armed with a new laptop, Frank pinged me on Gmail’s video chat on Saturday night and we decided that that would be his online bachelor party. He grabbed some beers and I made some half-assed margarita concoctions. Our conversation turned to Kicking and Screaming (alternate title: Kicking and Screaming…No, Not that Will Ferrell Soccer Movie), which is a favorite movie of ours. Rather than spending the whole night exchanging our favorite quotes, we decided to watch it…together.
“Okay, on ‘3’ I’m going to press play. Ready? 1…2…3!”
It was fun and nice and very much indicative of our friendship, but we agreed that it was kind of the most old person bachelor party ever…at least until I dozed off on the couch and Frank had to wake me up via video chat so that I could cart my old self to bed.
At least we took pictures of the wild and crazy time that we had.
I only had two beers at the MamaPop party the night before, but when we got back to the hotel, I was struck by how badly I missed the husband and the baby. I turned into a total sap and started getting weepy because I had arranged to stay until Tuesday to see some of the city and was totally regretting it. So in the morning, I had post-beer, post-karaoke, post-cry headache. But nothing will keep me from a breakfast buffet, so I staggered out of the room leaving my snoozing roommates to sleep for me.
Sessions that I Attended:
Since I was in need of a lot of coffee, I ended up staying for the morning keynote that included a panel with the International Activist Blogger Scholarship recipients. Four women, Esra’a Al Shafei of mideastyouth.com, Dushiyanthini Pillai of humanityashore.org, Marie Trigona of mujereslibres.blogspot.com, and Freshta Basij-Rasikh of Afghan Women’s Writing Project spoke about their experiences as bloggers. These young women put their lives in grave danger with every keystroke as they document injustices in their countries. It was tempting to listen to their stories and feel sheepish about my blog, which I repeatedly described to people as “just about my life.” (Like, “Oh, don’t read it. It’s terribly dull.” I clearly haven’t mastered this pitching thing yet.) But I didn’t. I can’t rush over to Afghanistan and change things there, but I can listen and try to understand where they’re coming from. And I can appreciate the communication tools that I have at my disposal that allow me to write and relate.
I attended the Women and Sports session that Sarah helped to lead. It’s too bad that Rob Dibble didn’t say that nonsense about women at sporting events until a few days later, because it was almost exactly what we discussed for a portion of the session.
Since I just have my son, I don’t have too many tales about encouraging young girls to participate in sports. But since I didn’t eject myself from the sisterhood the second we saw a tiny weenis on the ultrasound screen, it’s definitely something that I would like to see more of.
The only other session that I went to was the Humor Writing which…meh. And unfortunately not that funny. But I think I was getting tired and hungry at that point.
Before Humor Writing, Amber and Danielle and I took a spin around the expo hall, which is just this huge orgy of marketing. It never fails to both awe me and weird me out. Sometimes there’s cool stuff there, though. Like sausage dipped in pancakes and this guy:
That was my only celebrity sighting.
I also checked out a few of the suites, namely the Firefox suite where I fudged my way through a survey about add-ons and got a teeny-tiny tshirt.
Parties that I Attended:
Saturday night was MamaPop’s Sparklecorn party which was just huge and crazy and sweaty and fun. Also, there was cake.
It was from Charm City Cakes and I’ve always been skeptical of them. I suspected that they were mostly hype and the cake wasn’t that good.
My friends, the cake was so good. SOOOO GOOOOD. It had several different flavors: blueberry muffin, bananas foster, and peanut butter and jelly. I tried the bananas foster and the peanut butter and jelly and they were both extremely delicious. Charm City Cakes: I am now a believer.
Ryan was on hand with his camera skills and documented the party in both stills and video. Like last year, I didn’t make the final cut, but maybe that’s because I look like this at parties:
Sweaty, drinky, scowly, with my arms sticking out. Photo by Amy.
Injuries Sustained:
One gigantic blister on my left foot. And one of my stockings didn’t even survive being put on, but I forged ahead with a huge run, looking somewhat deranged.
This is how parties end sometimes. Shoes, hair accessory, and tattered hosiery discarded, feet damp from doing the Hustle in a puddle of vodka.
People on Whom I Mouth-Breathed:
The husband rolled his eyes when he saw me packing my running gear. “You know you’re not going to go running while you’re there.” Ordinarily, this would be the case. But Saturday, before the party, I went for a quick jog through Central Park with Jess. It was really nice to jog with someone. One thing that is hurting my motivation for running right now is, I guess, getting bored and just wanting it to be over. Running with someone is different. We chatted (breathlessly) and took in the sights of the park. It was really cool. I wish I could do it all the time.
I’d say I accomplished my goal of meeting blogging types that I didn’t already know. It was pretty cool, actually, just introducing myself to strangers that I knew I had at least one thing in common with, chatting with them for a few minutes, finding out a little bit about them before the busy days swept us apart. It’s not something that I would normally do, but what’s life without new experiences?
Pictures that I Took:
In the interest of wrapping this thing up, two whole weeks after the fact, I’m going to punk out and put my flickr slideshow here.
The actual conference was Friday and Saturday. My official, stated goals were to: not sleep through breakfast, meet people I didn’t already know from the internet, attend sessions, and nerd out as much as possible.
Struggles that I Overcame:
I realized that whatever lingering childhood shyness that I used to have that would cause me horrendous anxiety when thrown into a group of strangers has all but disappeared. If anything, it’s made me more empathetic to people who feel the same way. Look at me! Growing! Changing! Not mumbling into my oatmeal and avoiding eye contact or eschewing society all together to tremble in the ladies’ room!
The handful of people that I sat with at breakfast were lovely and we had no trouble chatting. After the opening keynote address, there was a “speed-dating” session that sounded like it would be chaotic, but I managed to just remain in my seat and allowed people to come to me, like I was the Godfather or something. The key to these things is to act like you’re super important. Next time, if there is a next time, I’m hiring somebody to stand behind me and look like Secret Service. Then watch the business cards pile up. That’s how 50 Cent got where he is today.
My other struggle was referencing American Psycho when I went to lunch with several MamaPoppers at this place called Johnny Utah’s. It was suggested that we go there because there was a mechanical bull. But I guess lunchtime on a Friday isn’t prime bull-riding time, because it just sat there like…well, like a giant inanimate bull in the room. I mentioned that the restaurant reminded me of the no-longer-popular restaurant that Patrick Bateman takes Paul Allen to in American Psycho and everyone got kind of quiet. Like, maybe referencing a misogynistic serial killer that was dreamed up by a bougie misogynistic a-hole is a faux pas in the midst of a women’s conference. I don’t know, I’m not always in tune to these subtle social cues.
Sessions that I Attended:
The first was a session on resume-writing and social media profiles and it was really, really good. My internet-writing experience is not insignificant. Far from it. But I really don’t know how to incorporate that into my resume and I don’t know how to get over my fear that people will see that and read, “I WRITE INAPPROPRIATE THINGS AND SHAME MY EMPLOYERS! CALL ME! LOL!!!ONE1 twitter.” So it was really helpful to hear from people who have done so successfully and see examples of resumes that do this in a professional way.
There were a couple other social media sessions that I wanted to go to, but I ended up lugging my camera to a photography session that ended up being more about composition than actual, hands-on technique. And I kind of already know a little bit about composition from taking a couple history and theory classes about photography in college. I was hoping for more practical advice on getting comfortable with adjusting manual settings for various shots. But I have a book for that, I just need to find it.
Parties that I Attended:
The MamaPop writers spent some quality time together, drinking, eating burritos, and doing karaoke. Funny. Drunken karaoke sounds a whole lot like shouting and giggling. This was actually my first foray into karaoke and Laurie and I belted out “Me and Bobby McGee.” I got a little too into it, I think, because after I handed off the mic, Amy looked at me and said, “That was…something else.”
Injuries Sustained:
I banged my knee on something getting out of a cab and got a small but healthy scrape. I dramatically declared that I would soon be coming down with hepatitis in that knee, but so far it seems okay.
People on Whom I Mouth-Breathed:
I know for sure that I met these people at breakfast or during the speed-dating: Pine Creek Cottage, Hide the Cheese, The Bellini Bunny, Dana from Rodale, and Naomi from Ketchum. I know I’m missing a few but I’ll do a round up of all of the cards that I’m having trouble placing with memories later. I also bumped into Jason and TwoBusy in the morning who were in search of that fine lady Mrs. Potato Head. Pimp! Adam P. Knave met up with us for drinks before the MamaPop party and I talked to him and his friend for exactly 2.5 seconds. I finally met Melissa and called her Christine.
Pictures that I Took:
This was the view from our hotel room. When we first walked past that LOVE sculpture, I pointed and yelled, “HEY! IT’S THIS THING!” I should be a tour guide.
Jodi, Tracey, Palinode, and Ryan. I don’t know why there’s so much bending in this picture.
Kelli, Laurie, Schmutzie, Sarah, and Marilyn cracking up over something with a cardboard cutout of somebody. Based on the direction of their gaze, I imagine it’s something PG-13. I don’t remember taking this picture or what was going on, which is weird because I really didn’t even drink that much.
Karaoke action with Palinode, Tracey, Amy, Catherine, Schmutzie, Amy, Amber, and I believe Miss Banshee is back there, too.
This picture doesn’t do them justice but Jodi and Amy are, like, radiantly beautiful in real life.
Last year, when I went to BlogHer, I didn’t feel like I had really taken in the conference. This was mostly my fault, as I cut too loose the first night that I was there and spent the first day of the conference recovering. The rest of the time, I mostly focused on soaking up as much time as possible with people that I had been friends with online. It was fun, of course, but not really the best use of the hundreds of dollars that I had spent to go there.
This year, I was determined to get my money’s worth. See, I had bought my ticket back when we thought the husband was about to start a job, so I nearly burned a hole in my MasterCard, reasoning that we would be paying it off within a few weeks. Then the job evaporated and I agonized over whether or not I should move forward with this trip that we definitely could not afford. But, obviously, I decided to go, resolving to squeeze every last drop, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be back.
But my experiences of every day that I was there can be summarized into one of a few categories: Struggles that I Overcame, Parties that I Attended; Sessions that I Attended; Injuries Sustained; People on Whom I Mouth-Breathed; Pictures that I Took.
Let’s start with Thursday.
Struggles that I Overcame:
I screwed up planning my flights and landed at JFK at 4:30. I nearly fell off the airplane because they let us off right onto the tarmac and I didn’t know you could do that unless you were the Beatles or on a private jet. Amber swooped by in a taxi and then I got to experience rush hour in New York City. My jaw is clenching just thinking about it. About two hours and countless brushes with death later, we burst into the hotel looking for our fellow MamaPop writers, who were in the lobby bar last we’d heard. And Amber was all, “I HAVE TO PEE!” and I was all, “NOBODY’S HERE AND THEY’RE NOT ANSWERING THEIR PHONES!” Eventually I got a hold of Danielle, who told me they were at the SocialLuxe party. I apologized to Amber as I ditched her around the taxi line because I really wanted to go to a party that I’d been invited to at the Martha Stewart offices.
Parties that I Attended:
The aforementioned Martha Stewart thing, which was…well…I don’t want to say it was bad. It wasn’t. But it took forever to get there and then we stood in line so that we could stand in another line so that we could shuffle through the hallway and then squish into a tiny room with an admittedly amazing view. And I’m not complaining about that, really, I was just worn out at that point and gripped a glass of Prosecco and kept an eye out for the male model that was dispensing refills. At one point, we called him over and his eyes widened in alarm. Whatever, dude, just stand there and look pretty with a heavy hand while I veer into baby-cougar territory. Kelli then asked him if he watched Party Down and he got all irritated. But maybe he just doesn’t have cable.
When I told my mom and grandmother that I was going to this thing, their eyes rolled back in their heads and they clutched their pearls and asked what I was going to wear. (The correct answer to that, by the way, is a black shirt and white and black skirt and thirty buckets of sweat and angst.) But rumor was that Martha was in and out promptly at 6 leaving us to mingle with the staffers who were good sports but who were obviously thinking, “I’m so glad I could stay at work until 8 on a Friday so that this chick from Pittsburgh could stare at me.”
On our way out, I noticed the test kitchen and pressed my nose up against the window. And then I tried the door and the security guard made a move toward me. It was locked, but I guess he was concerned that I was going to try to take a refrigerator with me.
I was glad that I got to see the offices, but my first private party left me with the impression that they aren’t really worth the strife that they seem to cause. They’re just parties, man.
Sessions that I Attended:
Nothing official was happening that day but we did have an impromptu panel in our hotel room. I don’t remember what we talked about.
Injuries Sustained:
Four insect bites of unknown origin that are still red and angry looking nearly a week later.
After our hotel room session, we ventured about two blocks away from the hotel to find food and managed to find the one diner in New York City that closes at like 10:30. Part of the closing process includes glaring at the table full of bloggers who are shoveling food into their faces and having a cook pointedly punch a pile of meat. I don’t know, man.
Pictures that I took:
Just these two, with my phone.
Vintage Heimlich instructions in 10 point typeface posted in a corner of the room that will surely be of great use should someone start choking.
Tracey is not falling asleep at the table but taking pictures of our dinner mates from an artsy angle.
I know multi-part BlogHer posts are obnoxious but that’s too bad for you. More tomorrow
I’ve been limping around the internet as kdiddy since mid-2001. The husband, who was then the boyfriend, was helping me to come up with a new moniker as I began the slow, painful process of cutting my ties with my AOL address. At the time, Puff Daddy had recently christened himself Pdiddy, which was the most hilarious example of celebrity self-aggrandizing at the time. Obviously, this was before the Hiltons and all of their dingleberry knockoffs started making headlines on CNN, the “people” from Jersey Shore, and the Palins. Now, the Pdiddy debacle seems almost quaint and humble, a mere re-branding. No biggie (ohh, see what I did there?).
The boyfriend suggested kdiddy and after laughing heartily about how clever and pop-culture-savvy we were, I adopted kdiddy for my first non-AOL email. Well, first non-AOL email aside from my Pitt email, which was nothing too special. And I barely used it because up until my senior year, I had to access it using Pine and since I’ve already established that I was then a dedicated AOL user, you can imagine my bafflement at something like Pine. I vaguely remember never mastering some very basic task, like replying, maybe. It was some contorted keyboard command and I don’t have Rachmaninoff hands.
Since then, I’ve encountered other kdiddys (kdiddies?) and while I usually get a twinge of indignation, I’m fine with not being the most original person on the internet. What I hadn’t anticipated was Pdiddy dubbing his proteges with names that are variations of his.
My Twitter handle, @kdiddy (duh), is very close to that of Pdiddy protege Kalenna, which is @KDIDDYBOP.
I remember a couple of months ago seeing a reply to me pop up on Twitter that didn’t make much sense, but I dismissed it as spam. But these misfires now happen at least twice a month, and though they seem to be corrected and/or deleted after a short time, I always delight in seeing my “name” mistakenly mentioned in a tweet that is usually in all caps and contains excessive punctuation and use of “LOL.”
Case in point:
“My brother @kdiddy Okewa booked the Monica TOUR!!!! oh lay do it!!!! L O V E! God is @ workkkkk. Let’s Goooooo!!!!”
Apparently, I’m going on tour with Monica. If it were 1995 right now, I’m be PUMPED. Just one of dem days.
“Leo’s RT @KDIDDYBOP: RT @DRockStar2010: RT @DawnRichard: OBAmA’S bRTHDAY IS TODAY …. mIne is tomorrow ….@kdiddy”
My birthday isn’t actually until October 31st, but I am perfectly happy to celebrate with this fine group of people. I mentioned I’m going to be in New York this weekend, right? Diddy, can you hear me?
I have not yet worked up the nerve to reply to any of these tweets, but if I do, I fully intend to bluff my way into some kind of super-group through the cunning use of Twitter. Then you can say you knew me when.
It’s a rainy Saturday and I spent all afternoon at one of my grandmother’s Ladies’ Lunches. So I have that post-being-dressed-up fatigue and don’t want to do anything but bum around the internet. So, here we are.
About a year or so ago, I subscribed to this site that posted old VHS videos. I never really thought about it, but there was a lot going on in the world of home entertainment in the 80s and most of it was…not good. And the people behind the site managed to find some real treasures, even if they were just video greeting cards that people did for someone’s 40th birthday or something.
Anyway, I didn’t notice that nothing from the site had come through my Google Reader in quite some time until I was killing some time the other day, unsubscribing from stuff that had been abandoned. (The internet is littered with the dessicated corpses of blogs and websites that people lose enthusiasm for. It’s kind of depressing, especially when you remember a site that you used to really love and go there only to find tumbleweeds. There needs to be some kind of orphanage for these sites. Or at least a proper burial. Or perhaps I need to quit anthropomorphizing the internet. Does this mean the matrix has me?) So I clicked through and found that they had moved to a new site and collaborated with someone else doing the same thing. The whole operation is now at Found Footage Fest.
A recent favorite of mine is Shattered: When Your Kid’s on Drugs, which seems to be a pretty typical, “I smoked pot for the first time on Friday and now it’s Monday and I’ve given away all of my possessions for crack and I think I may have murdered my parents and it burns when I pee,” scare movie that they’ve been rehashing every generation since the days of Reefer Madness (and earlier, I’m sure).
What’s especially terrific about it is the cast. It stars Judd Nelson, who I thought for sure had a prolific drug problem but apparently not; Burt Reynolds, who, bless his heart, never had a thought that wasn’t written for him first; Dermot Mulroney, whose only movie roles I can ever remember are Bad Girls and Point of No Return and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person to have seen these movies because when we see him in something and the husband asks me, “What was he in?” I say, “Bad Girls and Point of No Return and I think he’s married to Catherine Keener,” he looks at me with a rather puzzled expression.
Best of all, Shattered stars Megan Follows as a budding crack-ho-to-be. Megan Follows, of course, was in the Anne of Green Gables movies, which were partially responsible for my pre-teen/early teen identity because I had red hair and was dramatic and liked puffy sleeves, which is perhaps the only fashion item that the Victorian era and 80s wedding dresses had in common. One time, I randomly found a small bottle of ipecac in the copier room at work and went on and on about how Anne and Diane saved Diane’s little sister with ipecac because the doctor couldn’t get there and blah blah blah Lady of Shallot Gil Miranda blah. And I wondered why I couldn’t get a boyfriend.
Perhaps it would be best if I just stopped here and showed you the video I’m talking about.
Both my grandmother and the husband’s grandmother regularly sport house dresses, or “hahs dresses” as they pronounce them. They might also call them “dusters” from time to time. They’re loose, knee or calf-length dresses in a light, feminine fabric and often feature a zipper closure in the front. They’re worn for housework and general relaxing.
These seem to be a relatively generational feature as my mom and I both shun dresses and don sweatpants for housework and relaxing. Though since the rebirth of the maxi dress, I’ve spent many pleasant evenings relaxing in what is essentially a huge, spaghetti-strap tshirt.
Anyway, kdiddy.org has a new house dress, though it is so much nicer than actual house dresses, thanks to the fine folks at Sweet Blog. I answered some questions about what I would like to see, which mostly amounted to, “Err, durrr…” and Schmutzie took that and came up with that thoroughly awesome image that you see above. Then Dawn swooped in and stretched and pulled the code like so much taffy and now here we are, in new digs every bit as charming as the old, but made just for me.
Aside from the fact that Sweet Blog is run by my dear Tracey, who happens to be celebrating a kick-ass birthday today, I found the whole experience of working with the crew so pleasant. Schmutzie and Dawn were patient and open-minded, but also a huge help when I had trouble making decisions.
Our home computer died and our wireless router crapped out weeks ago. Did I already tell you this? I can’t remember. Anyway, I’m tapping this post out on my phone, which is miraculous, technologically, I guess, but mostly a pain in the butt…er, thumbs. This morning, I trudged the baby through the snow to the library so that I could at least pay the bills and write my posts for MamaPop and We Covet. So my real live Internet time was perforated by, “Mum, I’ve looked through all of the cool books. Can we please go now?” and a sickening squirt every time the guy at the next computer spit his tobacco juice into his coffee cup. (I really could not believe the librarian was cool with that. I know I wasn’t. But then my Master’s is in Professional Writing, not Library Science and Tolerating Repugnant Habits.)
I will tell you more about Christmas and show you some pictures the next time I have some extra minutes online. For now I have to get back to cuddling on the couch with baby, the husband, and his ManCold and waiting for what seems like an acceptable amount of time before eating some of the brownie bread pudding that I made (oh my god SO GOOD). Stay warm!
So, I had this really crappy headache all day yesterday. One of those that’s, like, on the side of your head. And after work we went to a pizza party for the baby’s soccer team and, surprisingly, a room full of screaming kids didn’t really help. When we got home, I took an inadvisable number of Aleve and gulped a glass of ginger ale before calling it quits and going to bed early, probably before most farmers and senior citizens.
Consequently, I forgot all about posting and have therefore failed at NaBloPoMo. I’m so irritated.
In much more important and serious news, one of our own, Anissa, suffered a stroke yesterday afternoon. I met Anissa at BlogHer this year and she is amazing. She’s a young wife and mother who’s been through a lot in life and we need her to get better. Please think good thoughts for her and her family and if you are interested in helping more, go here for more info.
I’m trying to not think about how far away Starbucks is and how badly I want a Pumpkin Spice Latte, so I started reading back through this blog’s archives and my LiveJournal archives.
October is, perhaps, my favorite month. It’s firmly in fall and has all of fall’s best features. It’s gorgeous to look at and the weather is fantastic. Plus, there’s Halloween, which I love, and my birthday (also on Halloween).
30 days from now, I will turn 31. That number sort of hit me yesterday. I remember talking to a friend last year about turning 30 and she mentioned being totally cool with 30, but 31 kind of got her because she could officially say that she was in her Thirties. 30 sounds kind of cute and grown up. 31 is suddenly, “Oh, this shit is real, huh?”
Anyway, one of the best things that I’ve done in life is to start documenting it on the internet. Honest! I never could commit to a regular diary or journal, but for some reason the internet and I were likethis. Now I can check in with my former self whenever I want.
So, if you like, come check out some past October 1sts with me… (more…)
