Good Bloggers Gone Bad

When I first started writing this blog, it was strictly a means of personal therapy, trying to cope with the very recent death of my almost five year old son. Children aren't supposed to die before their parents, especially not in the middle of the night, in the back seat of their mom's car while she's got the pedal to the mat and is racing into the city to the hospital. It's just not very nice. Or very thoughtful.

It wasn't easy to blog. Hell, it wasn't easy to breathe. Yet I forced myself to sit in front of the computer and try and find something that would brighten my day and remember that life isn't just about the dead kid who was missing. It was about living. Living through the very worst moments of life and learning to survive. To never lose hope, to never lose one's self.

Blogging brought me out of my fog enshrouded world and gave me the ability to see my kids again. It reminded me to love. It helped morph me into the person I am today, sitting behind this computer screen, a person still struggling with heartbreak most days but a woman who can remember that life goes on. Even when when someone we cherish is lost.

The community I found on the vast internets swept me into their arms and loved me until I came back to the land of the living. I am forever in debt to all of you out there who have been a part of that.

But that left me with another problem. How much do I open myself up to this vast cyber community? Not everybody is friendly, and there are creeps out there. Perverts which I attract with my talk of boob rings, crotchless panties and blowjobs. And no, I don't care how nicely you ask, I'm still not sending you naked pictures of me. Sheesh.

I struggle with this, while trying to ensure I cross no online boundaries with my family members, because without them, I have nothing. Really. My husband pays for everything. Including the coffee I'm slurping. I'd like to keep it that way.

Yet I feel I owe my online community a small part of myself because truthfully, with out all of you I really don't think I would be here. Grief is a dark place and a mother's grief is the darkest corner of the universe there is. I don't like to think of the road I may have traveled if I hadn't found you. And you. Any maybe you too, but would you please stop picking your nose thinking we don't know what you are doing? Get a damn kleenex, for cripes sake.

I thrive with my online relationships, new and old. It gets me through the long and deafeningly quiet days that were once filled with drool and slamming cupboards and a constant humming from Bug. It gets me through the times Fric and Frac can't stop fighting and I can't remember why I wanted to be a parent at all. And it gets me through the lonely wee hours when I miss my husband so much I take a voodoo doll made in his image and stick pins in it. Right in his kneecaps.

So imagine my delight yesterday morning when I woke up to check my inbox and found several letters from my Toronto lady blogger friends. And then imagine the look of horror on my daughter's face when she peered over my shoulder to see what had made her mother keel over with laughter.

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Wow, those Toronto gals really um, love me.

It seems a group of Toronto bloggers got together to celebrate all that is good about the world of blogging and wanted to include me. My heart just grew three sizes, just like the Grinch. I mean, is there anything better than getting virtually licked by a group of hot women? No, I didn't think so.

I knew the gals and a few guys were having a get together and wanted me to join them. But with 2000 odd kilometers between us, a maxed out credit card and some familial obligations, there was just no way I could join them. It's too bad all of them live in the WRONG. DAMN. PROVINCE.

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I do believe that is MamaTulip flashing me her girls and getting frisky with another. Rawr. My type of lady.

What I sadly underestimated was just how wild a group of rowdy bloggers can get when you put a few bottles of beer in front of them and a blown up head shot snatched off of Facebook. (See Boo? Facebook isn't completely without it's uses...)

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I kinda like it when the always classy Her Bad Mother molests me.

Because you know, a creative group of clever writers are always the most boring people in a bar.

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Such pretty er, eyes you have Kittenpie.

It kinda went downhill from there.

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This lady is so restrained. I worry she may never come out of her shell.

As the night wore on, and I was at home happily minding my own business unaware of the shenanigans going on with out me, across the country things were winding down. My blogging buddies had their fill of their Redneck and turned to more important topics like world peace, vibrators and the upcoming BlogHer conference in San Francisco.

I quickly became nothing more than a coaster for their beverages.

I like to call this one the Money Shot. Heh heh.

Eventually, they all wandered home, some sober, some less so, but all had a good time. Especially me, from the looks of it.

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One liked me so much, he even thought to bring me home with him. What can I say? I'm irresistible.

Ya, this online community is a beautiful thing. The friendships that bloom here can be real and lasting and sweet as a freshly bloomed rose.

You know what's going to be sweeter though?

My revenge.


Coming soon to a Toronto pub near you. As soon as I dig out my passport, find my husband's hidden credit card and think of a plausible story to tell my husband as to why I need to fly across the country.

It's gotta be a good one too, because he's not nearly as dumb as he looks.

Wink, wink.

***Kidding Boo. I love you. Now really, where's that credit card???***