(*Disclaimer: There is just no way to write this post without sounding like a self-important asshat and I am utterly aware of it. So what the freak…I might as well have fun and run with it. )
Months and months ago, I got an email from a long time bloggity pal of mine. Psychic Geek and I had talked from time to time and she helped me find my keys once.
She said she had.to.talk.to.me.on.the.phone.and.it.was.super.important!
She’s a friend, so I did.
Looooooong story short, she pretty much told me I was going to have the most amazing year ever.
But she was pretty much correct, because this year? WOW.
(Just do not bitch at me if she can’t find your keys, people. I’m just telling my story here.)
About 10 days ago, I was sitting on my recliner trying to figure out THE freak to transfer MP3′s from my computer to my phone, when I noticed I had a Direct Message on Twitter from my friend, Erin (thus known on the Internet as “The Queen of Spain”). She asked if she could call me on the phone to talk to me about a project she had me in mind for.
It’s always a party with Erin, so I said YES.
Since she was a key player in that whole, “Loralee went to the White House” thing, I figured it would be something along political lines.
I was wrong.
It took me about 3 minutes to comprehend that Erin was telling me that BlogHer wanted to send me and some other fabulous people to Ree’s ranch to film a segment about what I “really” wear in the day (pajama pants, yo) and how (if at all) I kick it up at night.
And for those who read “Far away face girl”?
THIS IS A WEBISODE.
THAT I WILL BE APPEARING ON.
OH, THE IRONY!
(That agent can BITE ME. ;) )
It is damn hard to do, but Erin managed to RENDER ME SPEECHLESS with this little chunk of news.
And I have had to stay quiet about it for 10 torturous days. (AND IT HAS KILLED ME)
(Whew. I feel so much better.)
It’s been hard keeping that in because really, the only person I could tell was Jonathan, and let’s face it…he doesn’t really “Get it”. When I went to him babbling in excitement he just sort of looked at me and blinked.
“Who? Why are you going to a ranch in Oklahoma? Huh?”
“Well…as a musician, let me try to put it in a way you can understand. Um…she is like the Beyonce of the blogging world and I am well regarded in Bassoon enthusiast circles. And I get to go and hang out with Beyonce at her house and sing and record and shake my booty with her to “All the Single Ladies”.
(Which ya know, knowing this crowd, could totally still happen.)
“EVERYONE knows how cool the White House invitation is, but in my world, this MIGHT actually be…bigger?”
Then Jon asked me something that caused me to really ponder and pause.
“So, which is a bigger deal to you? Going to the White House or this?”
The White House has THIS.
The Ranch has THIS:
AND IT’S THE RANCH FOR THE WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry, United States Government and Bo, the First Dog.
I am weak.
P.S. Photo Courtesy of Ree Drummond.
P.P.S. Jean-clad heiny of awesome courtesy of The Marlboro Man.
P.P.P.S. Photos of the White House courtesy of me.
P.P.P.P.S. I just wish I had a better camera at the time.
P.P.P.P.P.S. I will be taking my DSLR to “The Ranch”.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I can’t do anything about my lack of photography skills, though. That has nothing to do with having an inferior camera.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I shouldn’t have called my point and click “inferior”. It was a great little camera that served me well. And besides, I totally dropped it on the portico walkway that was made all famous by that photograph of Kennedy walking down it and it died. I did inquire if they would let me have a state funeral for it since it died at the White House but Valerie’s Chief of Staff seemed to think there wasn’t any protocol for camera death on government grounds.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I won’t kill my new camera when I visit The Pioneer Woman, though.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. AND I won’t try any dangerous Tom Foolery with it like trying to get a shot of something awesome. ALTHOUGH..if a situation arises like, um…I’m sitting on The Pioneer Veranda fanning myself and sipping a Mint Julip and eating Chili and cornbread and then there will be a commotion and The Marlboro Man will come rushing from the house and jump bareback on his trusty mare (Stallion? Cowboy in Shining Armor Horsey??) yelling, “Stagecoach attack! The Redcoats are coming!!!! (or whatever) ALL HANDS ON DECK!) and we all rush out to help and gallop away on conveniently saddled and placed horses, even though I’m bawling the whole time because of that one time I was on a horse and was thrown and now have nerve damage the size of a horse hoof on my rear-end and so while I really like horses they scare me to death n’ stuff, which isn’t a problem for Sheila, who is taking copious notes as we ride and Erin, Queen of Spain, because she’s not only riding like a pro but is cracking a bull whip like no tomorrow, but thankfully we don’t ride very far before we find the sieged wagon and Ree and The Marlboro Man stop the bad guys in a jiffy by the sheer power of them being weirdly good looking and super nice (Aided by Erin standing there bull whipping the air in INTIMIDATING fashion) and the final kicker of Ree offering to rustle them up some cobbler if they’d just give up and let the wagon proceed on to Gobbler’s Gulch, but they’d have to agree be hog tied for a bit just to be on the safe side (which of course they and they do, because HI, REE’S COBBLER? YUM) and then they ask ME to do the honor of tying them up and they give me a lasso only I can’t tie ANYTHING that isn’t in the form of super! cute!! bows!!! and stand there looking like a total IDIOT that can do nothing but cry, “I DON’ T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT BIRTHING NO BABIES, MISS SCARLETT!” like a loser and so while Ree is comforting me that I am a useful person despite my lack of hog-tying-knowledge and that she thinks Lowery’s Seasoning is still super even though most of society has turned its back on it, they turn the task over to Susan Wagner, who not only manages to tie up the bad guys but do so in a fashionable way, and the Wells Fargo Wagon safe and sound, it can deliver Ma and Pa Ingalls to safety and the prairie is once again safe for all mankind, we take the bad guys back to the ranch for pie??????!!!!! I MAY HAVE TO GO AND PHOTOGRAPH THAT.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. If this streak of “Loralee-weird” ends up getting me uninvited, I may just have to go cry. And call a friend. And eat an entire pie.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. But in the end it will be ok because TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY N’ STUFF!!!!