I'm not here right now.
I'm at BlogHer 2009!
Well, actually, I am still "here" as in "here in my living room" or "here in the computer screen on your desk/lap."
I haven't gone anywhere yet. In fact, I haven't even finished packing because there's a load of laundry still drying, and until it dries, I can't go to Chicago because I cannot arrive without any clean socks or unmentionables.
See..right here on my official BlogHer What To Bring list, line 7, point a3, it is clearly stated that all attendees must have clean socks and at least one pair of unmentionables per day because they just aren't running "that kind" of women's blogging conference. Maybe next time when BlogHer is held in Paris, France where the ladies wear no pants, but in Chicago - as I understand it - there are some fairly strict rules and regulations about wardrobe and shenanigans.
I'm also to leave my mesh gauchos and my whoopee cushion at home.
So, in a few hours I will be in Chicago wearing very sensible shoes and possibly a pair of walking shorts in a neutral color and, of course, a camp shirt. And a sun bonnet. And gloves.
I will spend three days surrounded by one-thousand very sensible women, and we will talk about writing and punctuation and how not to be too much of a nuisance to all the guys on the Internet, and then we will all sit together with linen napkins on our laps and eat chicken croquettes, and then we'll have a small sherry before getting a good night's sleep.
It will be a lot like a convent, except with WiFi.
Now, the next question I know many of you will have about BlogHer (after "Will all the good ladies be appropriately and modestly dressed?") is "What do I do when I finally meet Madame Halushki live and in person?"
This is an excellent question, and one that I've answered countless times before many Internets2RealLife meetings. Understandably, what with my countless cyber communications enumerating my boundless good looks, substantial charm, and impressive height, most common (and I mean that in the best way possible) folks are simply petrified by the potential for self-loathing once they bask in my corporeal presence.
Let me put you at ease with
5 Mystical Insights Into The Legend That Is Madame Halushki
1. Contrary to what I may have told you on-line, I am only 5'4", I sport a muffin top, I slouch, and I have cellulite. If I have ever accidentally given the impression that I am actually Claudia Schiffer, I apologize for that. My bad.
2. I may at times seem distant and aloof. This is not me being coy, hoity-toity, or intentionally weird. It's simply that I may not hear you. I seem to be losing my hearing a bit lately, and there is a sweet spot where you need to stand (pitched about 47 degrees from either ear) in order for me to get your gist. Alternately, you could pass me a note on a napkin, and please do so as often as I have salad in my teeth.
3. Since Vatican II, it is no longer necessary to bow fully from the waist when you first meet me, nor do you need to retreat from my presence by walking backwards. Upon introductions, a small curtsy will do, and instead of walking backwards, please feel free to do the electric slide.
4. I'm given to incoherent non-sequiters in the middle of conversations. Please know that there actually is some line of thought I'm following that has gotten me from your mentioning that your sister was accepted to Yale to me asking, "Do you like Werner Herzog movies?"
Your mentioning your sister made me think of my sister.However, no matter how charmingly idiosyncratic or idiosyncratically charming my flights of mental fancy, if I do so misdirect the conversation, please feel free to give me a hard, silent stare and I will generally get the hint that I've been unmannerly and boorish. I will then correct the behavior and ask an appropriately engaged probing question: "Did your sister get to Yale on a ski jumping scholarship?" Or the like.
My sister has goats. Wool goats and meat goats.
I've never eaten goat. I have eaten horse.
I've eaten horse in France.
I lived in Grenoble in France.
The winter Olympics were held in Grenoble.
Ski jumping is an exciting winter sport.
I once saw a documentary on a ski jumping directed by Werner Herzog.
5. I like tonic with my gin, and vice versa. However, too many gin and tonics has the effect of brown acid on me, so please encourage me to pace myself with a 1:6 ratio, i.e. of one gin and tonics to ever six root beers and fresh air.
There! Now don't you feel more comfortable about the prospect of meeting me?
I know I do.
I was nervous all day about being me and meeting everyone.
It can be positively exhausting! People expect a tall, slender megalomaniac who can hold her liquor and make brilliant conversation, and instead they get a short, hard-of-hearing megalomaniac who speaks in tongues after too ingesting many crushed juniper berries.
If everyone just lowers there expectations and matches me drink for drink, we'll all get along just fine.
See you in Chicago!