So I'm going to the BlogHer10 conference. It's in NYC, so I really had no excuse, and it'll be more fun than a bag full of dirt squirrels. So anyway, everyone who is going (and if you're not going, I'm sorry for the influx of BlogHer10 posts. I remember 3 years ago when I didn't go, and I hated everything for like, a month. Especially the internet. I feel your pain. Just like Bill Clinton!) ANYhoodle,
Common Sense: Wait a minute.
Me: Oh no.
CS: You forgot about me, didn't you?
Me: YOU? Are not invited to the conference, bucko.
CS: Yes I am. You'll fall down and your Spanx will be EVERYWHERE and you'll forget your underpants again like last year. I'm going.
Me: Shit, you're right.
CS: Like I was saying…
Me: Wait. But I'm already PACKED. I don't need you!
CS: Your clothes are appropriate for an attention seeking 16 year old. You're 33.
Me: But that's how I dress every day.
CS: I know, it weighs on my soul. Every day.
Me: I hate you.
CS: Ditto, sister.
Me: Okay, what is it you wanted to say, oh enemy of joy?
CS: You need to warn people about meeting you.
Me: Truth! Okay. Here's the deal. I'll be the one in the inappropriate outfits with the nametag that says "MISS BANSHEE." This is what you do if you meet me:
- Say "Hi, Miss Banshee!!!!!"
- hug me
- wait for me to read your nametag, the only thing I'm worse at than remembering faces is remembering names
- that's it.
CS: Seriously? That's it?
Me: Dude? if anyone actually recognizes me AND says hi? I'll be thrilled. I'm not exactly Famous On The Internet. And I like hugs. I'm really a nice person in real life and I'll hug you and converse with you happily. Pay no attention to the wild freakout eyes. I'm always like that. Whatever you do, WHATEVER YOU DO, don't EVER think I won't talk to you or hug you. I will. Against your will, probably. Because I'm going to be totally manic and freakshow-like. I've met me, I know.
CS: What if you freak out and get wicked shy?
Me: Hug me anyway.
CS: Tell the nice people you're only mean to celebrities and reality show people and never ever mean to people in real life.
Me: I'm only mean to celebrities and reality show people and never ever mean to people in real life. Ever.
CS: No one is going to say hi to you.
Me: I know. I'm not cool. I'm the opposite of cool. It's okay. I'll just stand outside and smoke a lot and probably cry.
CS: THAT'S more realistic.
Me: I suck.
CS: You ain't just whistlin' Dixie, sister. What if people want to call you by your real name?
Me: That's fine, I'm not a Russian spy. My real name is Danielle. There, internet, now you know.
CS: What if your fabulous heels hurt so bad you want to die?
Me: Then I'll be the one in bare feet, CARRYING the fabulous heels.
CS: You're doomed, you know. You're going to do something unforgivably embarrassing.
Me: Shh. The people don't know that yet.
CS: SHE'S GOING TO EMBARRASS HERSELF. IT'S WHAT SHE DOES IN PUBLIC.
Me: Thanks a pantload, asshole.
CS: We need to do a photo blog of your outfits.
Me: Not till I Windex the mirror, we don't.
CS: Photo blog coming soon!
Me: I'm sure exactly no one cares.
CS: I'm sure you're right.
Me: Everyone's going to ignore/hate/kick me, aren't they?
CS: You're not a popular person. Accept it and move forward, or sit in the hotel all weekend.
Me: I'm going to cry.
CS: That's the Miss B we know and tolerate. Blog over?
Me: Blog over. More later.
CS: Goodbye, three people reading this!