I made out at BlogHer and I can’t even use, “I love Jesus, but I drink a little” as an excuse. *Edited. Which means that the other half of the photos I uploaded actually show up now.

To answer a question to the curious: I didn’t drink at BlogHer because I don’t drink.

I did have a wee bit of a “Drinking phase” after my son died and I went inactive from the Mormon church. (Because when many of us Mormons go inactive we run around like crazed idiots a smokin’ and a drinkin’ and a sinnin’ , guzzling coffee and basically screaming to the heavens, “LOOK AT ME, GOD! I’M BUYING NAUGHTY, LICENTIOUS, THONG UNDERWEAR FROM VICTORIA’S SECRET!”, to prove just how inactive we are to everyone around us.)

Once I got over the whole “Bite me, God” phase of my grief process I realized that I am just not a drinker. I don’t like the taste, I wasn’t raised with it, and I certainly never built up a tolerance because I skipped all the younger drinking years where most people get it out of their systems.

My “Wild child” phase (or rather, “Wild advancing-aged woman” phase) did provide some interesting entertainment for my seasoned drinking friends. They took SUCH good care of me when I was plastered off my ass:

EVERY 30-year-old should wake up with a Sharpie mustache and penis drawn on their face. It’s awesome.

I also get very, VERY affectionate when drinking. The more plastered I get, the more affectionate I get. See this photo? I was pretty much drunk off my ass and must have thought my friend, Brigitte had a ball of mistletoe on her ho-ho-HO-ness somewhere.

Besides all the Tomfoolery with Sharpie markers and making out with people, I am also a TOTAL LIGHTWEIGHT. One whiff of alcoholic fumes and I do things like slide up to my male buddies and spew forth such enlightened phrases like, “If you were a Hobbit I would totally have sex with you RIGHT NOW!”

Yeah. I will NEVER live that down. (Nor am I sure that I should.)

(Side note to my beloved Jenny, The Blogess, just know that many years before the whole mythical Hobbit hub-ub, your friend Loralee’s Looney Tunes had Hobbit embarrassment as well. Hugs, you cuddly bundle of adorableness.)

Since I really didn’t want to chase Y,Oh! The Joys! and Backpacking Dadaround BlogHer yelling, “FRODO! SAMWISE!! GANDALF!!! SCREW THAT STUPID RING AND COME MAKE OUT WITH ME!!!” I thought abstaining from the booze would be best for everyone.

Instead, I gave my drink tickets to Heather B. It was totally worth it because 1: I got to touch Whoorl’s hair when she picked them up and 2: Dude, anyone who can drink wine from a Starbucks cup while getting serenaded by a chick from Utah and not run screaming from the premises is just cool. Angella and Ali didn’t have any wine when I sang so I don’t know what they hell THEY did to help them cope.

I gulped down diet soda the whole conference so I can’t really blame the demon liquor for what happened here:
(Redneckmommy)
Or here…
(Mr. Lady)
Now, can I?

Hot women with nose rings that live in Canada must just have a major thing for me and my dorky awesomeness, right?

Seriously though, I lurve these two ladies. When I met Shannon (aka “Mr. Lady” of “Whiskey in my sippee cup” fame) she backed up, squeeled and hurled her tiny little body at me so hard I threw my back out. It was the ultimate of all BlogHer tackles, believe me. I don’t remember who had “Blog Love” first, but I do know that it was hard-core, with hearts and flowers shooting out of the screen every time we typed out each other’s URL.

And then there is my beeeeaaaaauuuuutiful pierced buttercup of awesomeness from the north country.

Tanis made me retake this photo because “Her hair was shitty” in the first photo. When Redneckmommy says to do something, DUDE…You DO it. Not that it was difficult. I adore Tanis with the power of a thousand burning suns. I’d adore her endlessly even if she wasn’t a mom that shared a lot of grief with me. Because of that, though? She’s my forever friend and in my heart always. I don’t mean to get all cheesy on you, but finally getting to meet her, talk to her about our boys in person and wrapping my arms around her (and her and her) was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be.

Plus, there is that whole “Nipple piercing” thing she has going on. (Which I can now TOTALLY verify. Hee.)

There is so much that I didn’t document about BlogHer here. I figured people would start throwing things if I didn’t write a story that everyone could enjoy. (Ok, my family and inlaws will probably NOT enjoy this tale of debauchery penned by their relation Slutty McSlutterson. I’ve warned you all not to read me. It’s bad for your health, yo.)

Please don’t get owied feelings if our photo isn’t here or you aren’t linked to. I LOVE YOU ALL and if I ever manage to get more coverage out here on this ASS LONG TRIP I am in the middle of (Currently somewhere in the wilds of Idaho) to publish this drivel, I am planning on writing detailed captions and links on my Flickr photos because there are people and stories I want you to meet and read.

I’ll leave you with something kewel, though…
One of the best things that I ever did to prepare for BlogHer last year was to read blogs where they posted a list of every business card they were handed at BlogHer. And I am so going to do it myself this year. I added the list of BlogHer business cards to my linky love page and will leave them there until BlogHer ’09. Go check it out.

While I loved all the making out, the cuddling, the groping and the laughing, I loved bringing home my swag to my sweet boys. (Including my husband, who is now wearing the sweet Zivio headset I snagged. This had better mean I am forgiven for being crappy in the wifely duties lately or I am SO taking it back!)

P.S. I am so sorry for this craptastic post. I am typing it on a phone in the middle of buttfreakingnowhere Idaho with horribly spotty internet connection. Please forgive errors, bad links and any of the other suckage that you would expect to find in a post typity-typed in the conditions.

And?

If you take this post or these photos too seriously, I may have to remind all y’all that you may not be reading the right blog for your temperament and sense of humor and/or morality. There was no tongue involved so get thine knickers out of a twist, ok? I’m just sayin’…

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