Okay, I already did a BlogHer post, and I know that, but now I have to put up some sort of special post because, theoretically, new people will be finding their way here via my “business” cards in the next few days. And considering that last year I stayed in an apartment all by myself and didn’t manage to blog once, pretending that I’m going to have time this year is laughable at best.

First, I don’t get into New York until Friday morning assuming all goes right, so if you think you saw me today or Thursday, you might be drinking too heavily. And if I look tired on Friday it’s because my flight left at 10pm Thursday from California and got me to Philadelphia at 6am Friday (Pennsylvania time), which was, you know 3 in the morning my time. And then I had a connecting flight to get to NYC. So uh, I may be a little bit exhausted. Maybe.

I have RSVP’d for just about every non-invite only party, so if you’re at the Voices of the Year Kirtsy Gala (where my piece is going to be featured!), Aiming Low party, Sparklecorn, Cheeseburgher and any other parties I might be missing, well, look for me. I’ll be the one holding a drink that looks like alcohol, but is probably actually either club soda or diet coke.

I am not pregnant. I just don’t drink much. Yes, you can probably have my drink tickets if you ask me politely and early.

I am staying in a room with La Primera, The Last Girl Standing and Daisy, JD. One time when I was staying at my father-in-law’s house, I woke up naked in the laundry room. So if you find me naked in the hallway, please return me to their room.

I have a blister on my heel. And that will be my excuse for wearing flip flops 90% of the time I’m there. See also, coordination issues in tall shoes.

I am bringing pretzel m&ms with me. But I’m only sharing if you’re really, really nice.

My business cards are hard to read, so if you get something that is bright! pink! it’s probably from me. Sorry about that.

Yes, you can totally look at my scar (you might be surprised at how many people ask me), but please, for the love of all that is sacred, do not touch it. Not that I think a lot of people want to, but it totally icks me out. I got my hair cut tonight and I had to fight myself to not slap the crap out of my hairdresser when she combed over it. Also, for the love of God, don’t hit me in the back of the head. I really have zero desire to go to the hospital in New York.

I’m trying not to have to check my suitcase. If my clothes look suspiciously like they were jammed tightly into a suitcase, it’s because they were. You know, to make room for the m&ms.

Since there aren’t that many pictures of my face on the internet and I can’t walk around backwards all day, I’ll have a little picture of my twitter avatar in my nametag. That also assures that you’ll spend MORE time looking at my boobs. Which is a win for both of us, really.

More than anything else, I’m just really excited for this trip, for a weekend with old and new friends. For a little break from real life. For another opportunity to feel connected to this amazing group of women (and men).

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