This was the BlogHer where I was going to aim higher.
How I managed to sink so low is a bit of a mystery.
I mean I went to BlogHer as an invited speaker. The incomparable and awesome Mary Mac invited me to be on her and Stef's Room Of Your Own panel session, "Mom Stop Blogging About Me." (Or as I preferred, How To Effectively Scar Your Children For Life.)
My coolest swag, courtesy of the Animated Woman
Besides being a part of what may have been the most entertaining panel session I've ever participated on (thanks ladies) I was also asked to speak on a session for BlogHer's inaugural HealthMinder day. I was a little star struck with my fellow panelists Kristina Chew and Carol Greenburg but I like to think I didn't make a complete arse of myself.
Partial arse, however, is always a given.
In keeping with what is has now become a BlogHer tradition, I found myself filling in on a panel when a speaker failed to show up at the last minute. Except instead of speaking I found myself belly dancing on stage. In front of actual people. With a pulse. And camera phones.
When I walked out of that session I thought, well, that was awesomely awkward, but it's all cake from now on. The belly dancing would be the moment I'd document as my most embarrassing at the conference, and oh, what a giggle it will be.
I only wished.
No, the most embarrassing moment happened when I basically accused an old friend that she's sleeping with her son.
Because I am uber classy like that.
My only excuse is that I was
tired stupid. But for the record, when the lovely and slightly Dorian Grey-ish Georgia waves at you and says, "I want to introduce you to my son," while gesturing to a hot young thing in a suit, the CORRECT response would be, "I am pleased to meet you, Bossy's son. You're mother is a lovely lady and an old friend."
The incorrect response is to leer at the young man like he's a piece of meat, while waggling your eyebrows at his MOTHER and say, "Your son. Sure. WINK WINK."
"I don't really like that laugh Tanis," she replied. AS A PROPER MOTHER WOULD DO.
"Ya, I don't blame you, PURRRRRR, you dog you, RAWR, Georgia." I was about to high five her and congratulate her for getting her groove on Stella style when suddenly the hunky boy toy dropped the chair he was carrying and stuck his hand out to introduce himself to me and said, "Hi! You know my mom?"
For one single solitary second I hoped he was just playing along, in on my joke. But then I realized, nope, jokes on me! You know those moments you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole? I was wishing HARD for that to happen.
What made it even worse was my complete inability to refrain from purring whenever her son was around. Even after I embarrassed myself. I had no shame. No FILTER. And I wasn't even DRINKING.
Some mother's children should never be allowed near me. Bossy's son clearly falls into this category.
My deep and heartfelt apologies to the ENTIRE BOSSY FAMILY AND oh my god I swear I'm going to duct tape my mouth shut forever and walk around wearing blinders, staring only at my feet until the end of time.
I went to New York and turned into a dirty old woman. Lord have mercy.
Fate gave me a chance to redeem myself later that night when I crossed paths with Lisa Stone's 16-year-old son.
No, I did not hit on him. Sheesh. (But at this point, I don't blame you for asking.) (Sob.)
No, what I did do was sell my daughter to him in exchange for a goat and drink ticket. And after some twitter negotiation, the deal was sealed. We even worked out our future grandchildren's names.
@redneckmommy Earl Louise it is, after us both. S/he'll thank us.
— LisaStone (@LisaStone) August 3, 2012
My daughter's reaction, upon hearing her new fate?
Momma say what?
Of course, she changed her tune quick enough when I showed her a picture of her betrothed. Clearly this apple didn't fall far from my tree. Remind me to keep her away from her friend's sons when she is an adult.
So. The take away points of my trip weren't the swag I collected, the new friends I made, the hugs I traded or the knowledge I gained. Nope. My souvenirs will be mortifying myself with one mother and then trying to purchase another's son.
Like I said. We all attend blog conferences for different reasons.