It would have been problematic to walk around BlogHer with my hair artfully swept in front of my face all weekend.
According to the lady at the waxing salon, Instagram is the best way to network. Evidently, some chick who pours hot wax on my vag is the final word on networking, because I opened my Instagram account the day before BlogHer.
Annnnd, I posted pictures of myself on it. By the second day, I could no longer resist taking selfies with other bloggers. EVERYONE was doing it, and I
was stupid drunk just got into the spirit of things.
The first day of BlogHer, I clung anxiously to Quirky Chrissy, who took excellent care of me. She was completely chill about me being up her ass like a suppository. Chrissy is one of the most positive, light-filled people I’ve ever met. Even hungover, her optimism defies logic.
I stopped attending sessions at BlogHer, after sitting through ones that informed me I was violating all “rules” of blogging. My posts are too long, my titles suck, I have no niche, I don’t organize my blog-related files (organize my blog files? I get outwitted by laundry).
I did some networking at the Expo, and found out that although I can’t earn actual money writing for brands, I CAN get paid in dog food. I’m gonna buy a dog so I can finally monetize this blogging thing.
The best part of the conference was not the sessions or the Expo. It was the camaraderie. In my soulless suburban neighborhood, women specialize in haughty standoffish-ness. At BlogHer, the default behavior is “Hey! Let’s hang out!”
I was very much ME at the conference. And people still liked me.
– I dress like a middle aged rock star frantically trying to beat back death by shopping at Hot Topics.
– I am clumsy. Chrissy and Joules watched me slam-walk straight into a glass door.
– I’m a hot mess who loses EVERYTHING. I lost my wallet (recovered!), my conference badge (got another) and my sunglasses (prescriptions Ray Bans, sadly gone forever.)
– I can be nutty. The first thing I did after meeting Chrissy was jump up and down on her bed shouting “WHERE ARE THE LESBIANS???”
– I say inappropriate things, like, “Okay, I’m gonna go to my room, watch a little porn on my phone and touch myself.”
– I do inappropriate things, like grinding up against the beautiful Ponies and Martinis while dancing at the closing party. She was totally cool about it, even though I held about as much appeal as a kid grabbing on your clean blouse with greasy French Fry fingers.
– I am an incorrigible flirt. I picked up a man in the elevator.
This one needs an explanation, so I don’t sound like a slutty elevator strumpet. I was waiting for the hotel elevator with Chrissy and Joules, deep in discussion about whether testicles are essential, because, you know, that’s a vital topic to discuss in public.
A hot guy emerged from the hotel gym and joined in our conversation. We all bantered in the elevator, and because
his chiseled abs showed through his sweaty shirt he seemed interesting, I asked him, “Are you single?” He was, and asked for my number.
He then exited the elevator on the wrong floor 3 times, claiming that I “made him nervous.” It think it was more that I was wearing this:
Apparently, when I drink I feel the need to make out with bloggers like Aussa Lorens.
I’m practically blind without my glasses (which I wasn’t wearing, because that would make too much sense). So I introduced myself to bloggers with my “Helen Keller at the dinner table” impersonation, in which I would grab the badge from around their necks and yank it up to see who they were.
This was how Dawn and I discovered simultaneously who the other was, and SCREAMED at the top of our lungs in the hotel lobby like two hyenas escaped from the Central Park zoo.
Gunmetal Geisha is an enchanting, ultra feminine waif. She captured the whole experience on video but I swear that’s not why I’m saying all these nice things bout her.
I’ve “known” Emily as long as I’ve been blogging, but our friendship was firmly cemented when she proclaimed at the closing party, “If you can’t appreciate the glory of David Bowie you have no soul.”
Usually when I meet someone and I feel like I know them, it’s because they were in jail with me. Lucy, however, I think was my sister in another life. She took off this necklace and gifted it to me:
Molly (A Mother Life) is a funky redhead with a killer Aussie accent, Sarah (est. 1975) is even FUNNIER in person than on her blog, Jen Kehl, techie goddess extraordinaire, of COURSE had an extra phone charger thingey when my phone died.
The closing night party was on Pier 84 in Manhattan. The food was by McDonald’s, but cheeseburgers become ambrosia when a wait staff of all gorgeous male models serves them to you on trays.
As the sun set over the Hudson River, we drank free booze and danced our faces off to old school R&B. In between dancing, l lounged on the grass with the coolest group of chicks ever.
I started the weekend a nervous introverted wreck. I ended it laying on a blanket on the grass, laughing, talking, cuddling with my head in Lucy’s lap, purring contentedly while watching the stars in the night sky.
Writing is how I breathe. However, it can be a very lonely endeavor. I began blogging because I craved interaction. For me, that was my main takeaway from the conference. I connected.
Online friendships are missing a crucial physical component, that of touch. At BlogHer, I was able to hug/kiss/grab/grind/snuggle/hold all the people I’ve “known” online.
The beautiful people who have lived in my heart for a year and a half, became real.
Have you been to a blog conference? Have you met people you know from the Internet in real life?
What was I thinking with that outfit with my bra showing?? Talk to me. I’m listening.