girl, compacted.

I am horribly nervous about meeting so many of you gorgeous internut friends all at once. Probably one of the main reasons I haven't posted anything for awhile, even though that main reason is certainly bolstered by lots of many other main reasons, like that we're still in the midst of buying/selling real estate, and that J is turning two, i.e., he's turning into a maniac, also, he's now "sleeping," ahem, in a toddler bed, goddddddddddd, apparently the nighttime is most fascinating to pad around in toddler feet and whisper to things, arghhhhhhhh. Also, there's the trip we're going on after I get back from Chicago 'cause Caleb's in a wedding for one of his good college friends, and I'll get to meet my lovely, breathtakingly awesome friend vis-a-vis FINALLY, even though I feel like I know her better than some of my IRL friends and definitely think she's funnier than almost everyone I know put together -- that is, if she isn't giving birth during my visit, and even so, I'm still gonna try to make her meet me. So what if I have to interrupt breathing techniques? I'm sure she can make time for me between contractions.

Btw, have you guys ever seen the Go-go-Babyz contraption that you stick to your carseat and it converts the carseat into a stroller? It's genius and every time we go through the airport with J rolling along behind us, blissfully at ease as we sweat our schleppy selves across the miles of psychedelic airport carpeting, people stop us, usually multiples of them, to request where we found such a gem of a tool. I highly recommend. Nobody's paying me to or anything, but seriously, it's a lifesaver if you have a toddler and have to haul the kid's heavy-ass carseat around when you fly. It makes me slightly easier about the wedding nocal visit when I remember that we are in possession of such a fine, fine thingy.

So. I'm gonna be selling some t-shirts (for the ladeez, not the kids) at blogher; they're semi-conference-specific, and if you'd like to pre-order one, I'll be happy to reserve it. I only have room for 20 because I'm simultaneously transporting the ones I made for Kristen, and that's a lotta shirts, people. Anyway, I'm gonna post a photo of the design (there's a front element as well as one on the back) later today and you can lmk via email (lildbsnack at yahoo dot com) if you'd like me to reserve one for you. After that, I hafta take orders, and I'll be happy to mail them to you post-conference.

Did I mention that my palms turn into roman baths when I get nervous? And that the thought of the upcoming weekend of monstrous blog-love bonanza is making me get every surface I touch all icky and stuff? Yay. Clammy palms = unfabulous. Remember that when you go to shake my hand, and instead, maybe opt for just smiling and winking. Or a side-hug. I'm a professional side-hugger. Or if you have a pair of big, brassy ovaries, I dare you to confront me with a full-frontal hug. I may pat your back more than is necessary, because it's my knee-jerk response when I'm internally nose-diving, and that may be bad because we're back to the clammy-palm ickiness being potentially absorbed by your shoulder blades; so here's a suggestion: if you wanna give me a hug, wear something highly absorbent. I would go with either a nice terry cloth, or maybe go for the big guns and sew yourself an impromptu jacket made entirely of feminine pads. You're sure to avoid any random encounters with CPS (clammy palm syndrome), and you may even garner some mentions as that one with the totally chic pad-jacket.

On second thought, I don't think you're ready for this wet-handed jelly. My hands are too sweatylicious for you, babes.

*wipes off keyboard with industrial-sized towel*

Comments

I hear you! I'm thinking it's going to be fabulous, but I guess there's also the possibility of it being like a bunch of girls in high school. You know -- the in crowd, the geeks, the popular girls who don't want to hang with the others.

My hug's a waitin' ... and I can't wait to see the photo of the T-shirt. FYI ... I've got some cool PunditMom pens and magnets for the taking!

Posted by: PunditMom | July 23, 2007 at 02:34 PM

You can get your palm sweat on my palms anytime, baby. Just not at BlogHer, as I won't be within 500 miles of Chicago next weekend.

Posted by: slouchingmom | July 23, 2007 at 04:13 PM

You could never be TOO sweatylishess dear woman. Am DYING to squeeze you soon!!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Sandra | July 23, 2007 at 05:32 PM

This post is just hilarious on so many levels. Now I want a maxi jacket just to have one.

And my palms are sweaty because I'm on the east coast and I'll go to bed before you post the photos of the damned t-shirt and I'll wake up and check and there will be 400 orders and I'll never be first and I'll never be cool either.

So there.

Posted by: Oh, The Joys | July 23, 2007 at 05:38 PM

I don't touch. Unless I've been drinking. Which I won't be. So we can still be buds. Even with your sweaty palms.

One of the reasons on my top 10 list of why I don't go to church anymore is because there is always "the passing of the peace." Which involves touching. Ew.

Posted by: canape | July 23, 2007 at 05:49 PM

I am a big hugger, sweaty or no. Just a warning.

You SHOULD be nervous, though, because we're all going to laugh at you.

That is a bad joke, based on an alternate version of the game "Doom" that the ex-Mr Stapler used to play. The hideous monsters would yell "They're all going to laugh at you!" to frighten you. And isn't that our basic fear?

Posted by: Suebob | July 23, 2007 at 06:22 PM