kdiddy.org

This title was an attempt at some clever adaptation of Superfans.

Get it? Da Bears? Da Blawggers? Chicago?

Anyway. I went to Chicago! I went to BlogHer! It was grand!

I arrived Thursday and met up with Tracey and Dana at the hotel. I had had a gin and tonic on the plane, despite the scandalized glances of my rowmates, because a) my vacation had officially begun and b) the baby sent me off saying, “Bye, Mum! I hope your plane doesn’t crash!”

Safely on terra firma, I was still preoccupied with the vacation aspect and spent the rest of that day drinking and meeting people and forgetting that I met them. I remember at some point crashing some private event and yelling at the bartender, “GIMME A GREEN ONE!” and double-fisting frou-frou drinks at the SocialLuxe party prior to taking the stage to help accept MamaPop’s award for Guilty Pleasure Blog.

It was fun and sorely needed release, but I felt really stupid when I kept reintroducing myself to people only to have them blink and say, “We met on Thursday.” Granted, I met a LOT of people those first few hours, so I was a little overwhelmed regardless. But that convinced me to take it easy the next two nights so that I could actually experience the whole thing.

Friday, we woke up late and while my much deserved hangover wasn’t too bad, my uterus got wind of the 1,500 women on the premises and got the brilliant idea to sync up with its fellow cramp enthusiasts. I groaned through one session in the morning then kind of shuffled around until it was time for lunch, then shuffled around until it was time for one of the mingling breaks (read: more food), then made my way to the Community Keynote. I was really glad that I made sure to attend that.

I think/hope that the prescriptivist hand-wringing over what blogging is doing to writing has died down somewhat. Or said hand-wringers are too busy losing their shit over Twitter’s role in the demise of civilization. Because what I had the honor of listening to at the keynote was some astounding writing. And I mean your professor from your undergrad writing class, the one who first drummed showing-not-telling into your head, would have been dumbstruck…that level of good. A few pieces were funny, a few pieces were serious. They were all inspirational. And not in a corny, wind-beneath-my-wings way, but in a, “Wow, I fucking love writing and I can’t wait to get a moment to be alone with my words and shape them into something even remotely as fantastic as what I’m hearing,” way. I cried a couple of times and completely lost it during Catherine’s reading, which I think scared Jodi a little bit. “Um, can I hug you?” she asked, concerned, after the keynote ended. I gratefully accepted because I needed a hug and something to wipe my nose on…like Jodi’s shirt, for example.

Certainly all of the subjects that are covered by bloggers are not for everyone. I was never a victim of childhood abuse, but I couldn’t help but be stunned by Grace’s reading. I have never experienced the devastation of a child’s death, but Tanis and Heather’s readings gave me just a taste of that unimaginable grief. It really doesn’t matter WHAT we write about, just HOW we write about it. And if you can spin a yarn then you have my attention.

The (thankfully) few times that I’ve received a harsh comment here is when people (trolls) have bashed me for writing at all. They don’t care what some mom has to say about her life and I’ve wasted their time by even putting it out here for them to stumble on. The question of WHY someone would bother to read something that they know they will hate and then take the time to complain about it is not worth pondering.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Friday night was MamaPop’s Sparklecorn party and Tracey and Catherine had been running around all day getting ready for it. They asked us to meet them before the party, so we gathered in this beautiful bar in the hotel for drinks and appetizers. There they presented us with the most heartfelt gifts and thanked us for our hard work on the site. I was overwhelmed. The gifts, of course, were lovely but the thanks were so touching. I sat on the couch and glanced around at this goofy group of people, who were all dressed for the party and looked amazing, and realized that not only was I lucky enough to know them at all, but I had the opportunity to be WITH them in a gorgeous city amongst a thousand or so people who understood my compulsive reading habits and frantic scribbles of thoughts. I realized that I have it pretty good, that I’m a really lucky person, and I need to acknowledge that more often.

Now, all of that mushiness is fine, but there is, of course, a much goofier side to me. Somehow, Tracey and Catherine reached inside the collective MamaPop body and grabbed whatever gland it is that makes one ponder things like the feminist and cultural statements of Weeds. They took that gland, ground it up in a Cuisinart, and sprayed that shit all over one of the Sheraton ballrooms. There were posters of all of our favorite cult movies. There was glitter. There were tiaras and boas. There was a unicorn cake. There was rye. I wish I had thought to take video of everyone running around and freaking out at how amazing the place looked.

As the party’s attendees filed in and people got a few drinks in them, the dancefloor filled up. The DJ was fantastic and coifs soon became frizzy shadows of their former selves. It was a blast.

At the end of the night, the last track was Bill Withers’ “Lean on Me.” A small group of people put their arms around each other…then a few more joined them…and soon there was a gigantic circle of tipsy writers, thrilled to be in each other’s company, shouting along to the music. It was fucking awesome.

I’ll have to write more tomorrow because it’s getting a little long-winded as it is. Go get a Vengeful Unicorn. On me.

Things in my house that are dirty:

– everything
– me

Things in my house that are probably housing dangerous molds and spores and stuff:

– the fridge
– the toilets
– me

I really, really need to do some stuff here today but the past week and a half just caught up with me and now I can’t really imagine doing anything but watching old episodes of Mad Men.

Speaking of, and in honor of today’s uselessness, I give you kdiddy a la Mad Men:

The baby had his first soccer practice today. The coach freaked me out by openly talking shit on the parents of two kids who couldn’t be at today’s practice. Not cool. I had to spend the practice attempting to find a dry patch of ground that was in shade so that I wouldn’t combust, which means that I need to go whole hog on this soccer mom thing and buy a folding chair with an umbrella. I need something that will protect my pallor while I hand out Sunny D and say stuff like, “Gosh!” and “Golly!” and “Kick the shit out of it, kid!”

Maybe not that last one. I’m still learning.

In stark contrast to my surroundings just two days ago, I’m writing to you from a lake in upstate PA. It’s family vacation time and I’m tapping this out on my iPhone because there’s no Internet. Therefore I have hives.

Anyway, I just wanted to pop up real quick to say that I will post about my BlogHer experience next week…when everyone has moved on and no longer cares. I think that when I find my “mommyblogging tribe” we shall call ourselves, “Those Late Betches.” Should look nice on a silk jacket.

I’m taking a brief break in the hotel room to report that I’m having a fabulous time at BlogHer. I’ll admit to being more interested in the social stuff than the actual panels, especially because MamaPop threw a party last night that was unbelievably fun. But I’m heading out in a few seconds so that I can actually go pay attention to some shit. Pictures thus far are here, if you’re interested. Talk to yinz later.

There are lots of things that I could say about this whole catastrophe.

I will say right now that I do not want to discuss the legitimacy of the accusation. I’m just not going to get into it with anyone because offensive shit is always said in such a discussion and I’m at a point in life where I just avoid certain minefields.

I’m mostly just really furious with Roethlisberger not having the sense to behave like a grown man with a lot at stake. Regardless of what may or may not have gone down in that hotel room, this is not the first time that he’s acted like a reckless douche. And this is not the first time that he seems to have forgotten that it’s not just one career, and it’s not just one team. It’s a whole city and our pride in what WE accomplish year after year, the Steelers being a big part of that.

The really interesting aspect to all of this is how the Rooneys and Tomlin will respond. They are not subscribers to the theory that any publicity is good publicity. They run a respectable organization and don’t tolerate typical antics from their athletes. However, will Ben get special treatment?

Because of the short notice, not many people were able to attend the little party at AlphaLab last night, but it was still a very nice time. AlphaLab is an amazing space and we got to meet some of the people who are building their start-ups there. And we had a TON of food. I even gave away some brown sugar pound cupcakes with brown butter glaze to some ladies who were hanging out at the Double Wide Grill and started fantasizing about operating one of those trucks that tweets their location and sells yummy stuff. I think it would be an especially successful venture if I were to troll popular drunkard locations.

I was badly in need of a haircut. I’m pretty sure my last trim was in February and the last two inches or so of my hair looked like spun sugar gone awry. I realized that I was not going to be able to squeeze an appointment in before I left for Chicago if I didn’t go Saturday, so I pounded the pavement of the main street here. The husband joked that I would come home with poofy bangs since the beauty experts in our area tend to cater to a more, erm, nostalgic crowd.

I had faith, however. What I did not have was an appointment and as you might imagine beauty salons are busy places on Saturday afternoons. In fact, the only place that could take a walk-in was a small place that was decked out with Dean Martin figurines and possessed at least half of the world’s supply of rollers. I was the youngest person there by about 40 years but hey these are trained professionals and scissors are scissors.

I think the results are just fine and there’s not a bouffant or blue hair in sight. And it came just in time for my date with the husband to the Maxwell show which was AWESOME. As I stated last night, I predict that that show will urge a small baby boom and that at least 100 babies were made last night. (None here, though, for the record. I will say that the last time we saw Maxwell live, I was quite pregnant and Maxwell had an indirect role in that development. :-p)

And I know that this might get me kicked out of the sisterhood, but Maxwell’s version of “This Woman’s Work” is amazing and absolutely slayed everyone last night.

I really wanted that song to be playing when I gave birth, and yes I had seen She’s Having a Baby a few too many times, but emergency C-sections tend to blow your soundtrack plans out of the water.

ANYWAY, I’m trying to get myself motivated to do stuff around the house before heading out to the thing later. I think you’ll be shocked to learn that it’s not going so well.

Last year, Sarah and Devra took part in a Mom Road Trip on their way to BlogHer. They’re doing it again this year and are stopping in Pittsburgh. They’ll be in town on Sunday and we’re having a little get-together with them.

I traipsed around Las Vegas with Sarah (and pressured her into buying a cute dress), so I can vouch for her awesomeness. I’ve never met Devra, but I’m sure she doesn’t suck.

Anyway, there will be some yummy food and drinks and, of course, sparkling conversation and perhaps a farting contest. We haven’t yet nailed down the itinerary. We do know that it will start at 6 p.m. at AlphaLab on the South Side. If you can make it, RSVP to kdiddy.org@gmail.com.

Earlier this week, the husband worked some magic with the Allen wrenches and my house, formerly The Land of Flat Packs, now has some shelving and bins and stuff. When we saw the first patch of floor in my son’s room, we cautiously whispered, “What is that?” Then, when we realized that it was the hideous green speckled carpeting that we had first encountered three years ago before the toy layer was set in place like sediment, there was much rejoicing.

We still have a number of things to do before we can move him into the smaller bedroom that we’ve been remodeling off and on since we bought the place. For your reference, here is what we were faced with when we got here (you’ll have to supply the cat urine smell yourself):

I really wonder why this look was so popular. It’s like living under an oppressive burnt marmalade regime.

And here’s what it looked like when the walls met the business ends our sledgehammers and crowbars:

Work and school and money have slowed the process considerably, but the small room now has insulation and new walls and new trim. I’m really pushing (read: whining) to have this room done by the end of the summer. Then I’ll get to take “after” pictures!

We went to see the new Harry Potter movie last night. It was okay. I was mostly entertained by the previews for 2012, which looks god-awful. Plus, John Cusack is the heroic lead, which is just kind of funny to me, and I think they should have played up this unlikely casting in the script and previews more. “John Cusack saves the world…and mends his broken heart. Unlucky in love but ready to kick some apocalyptic ass!”

We finally joined everyone in 2007 and watched Tropic Thunder last night, which was also okay. It definitely had its moments of brilliance, but I think I was expecting it to be a little more skewering of the movie industry.

On a final, totally unrelated note, when do kids learn how to ask hypothetical questions that…like…make sense? I’m getting really frustrated with my son asking me stuff like, “What if our car was blue?” THEN IT WOULD BE BLUE, DUDE! GAH! I know that I should appreciate his childish wonderment before that fateful day when he first calls me a bitch (you know it’s coming). But how do you explain to someone that hypothetical questions need to pose serious, altering conditions to a situation? Is there some sort of Theory for Tots class I can send him to?

The husband and I went to a wedding on Saturday night. The groom has been friends with the husband for a number of years, but neither of us had met the bride, despite them being together for over two years. She knew of the husband and knew that he was DJing the first portion of the evening. But when she spotted me at the reception she looked a little concerned, like I might be a wedding crasher.

“I’m [the husband]’s wife! Also, you and I are friends on Facebook! Congratulations!” I saw the spark of recognition and all was well.

By the way, the husband’s DJing portion was pretty rad. The bride walked out to “It’s a Man’s World” by Marvin Gaye and then right after the couple kissed and started making their way down the aisle, he played “Lovely Day” by Bill Whithers. It was pretty sweet.

The ceremony and reception were both at Phipps, which was lovely and the couple kept things light by just having a tower of cupcakes from Dozen and hors d’oeuvres. The only flaw with this plan was that they had an open bar (wine and beer) and the hors d’oeuvres were light and limited. Soooo people got kind of rowdy…including a certain blogger we all know and love and whose name rhymes with jbibby.

The husband and I were 1 for 1 for exes present. My ex was easily avoided. The husband’s ex came and sat with us to chat at around Chardonnay #4 on a relatively empty stomach. I remember this conversation going just fine and even commiserating with her over our badly stubbed toes.

After she rejoined her date, the husband turned to me later and said, “You were all loud and kind of snippy with her.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I WAS NOT!”

“Yeah, you were. It’s okay, though. It was kind of funny.”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN, JAGOFF.”

And, yes, I do feel kind of sheepish about the fact that my last two blog entries have been about my twisted ability to accidentally get drunk, as though I don’t know what causes it.

Speaking of alcoholics, our useless neighbors forgot to put their trash out again and dumped it with ours. This practice in and of itself doesn’t bother me. I’m scatterbrained and can’t really judge anyone for forgetting such a task. However, it’s the CONTENTS of their trash that infuriates me. In the entry I linked to above, it was a bag of dirty diapers.

This week it was two cases of Beast. *horf*

As we got in the car to leave this morning, I said, loudly so that they might hear it, “I don’t want anyone thinking we drink that shit!” Think of my reputation, jerkfaces.